“I keep thinking about my brother. He’s in 12th right now. And I swear he didn’t ask for much. Just wanted to take commerce. He never liked science. Especially chemistry. God, he’s always hated chemistry. I still remember how he used to frown during tuition, muttering under his breath about “organic” like it was some monster under the bed.
But when the time came after 10th, my dad said no. Just like that. A straight no. Like his opinion didn’t even exist. “Commerce is for kids who don’t want to work hard,” dad said once. Or something like that. I tried to speak up. So did my mom. But dad wouldn’t budge. He said there are only two real options. Medical or non-medical. Pick your poison.
My brother picked non-med. Probably because he saw me struggle through medical and thought, yeah, that’s not worth it. But now? Now the same people who didn’t let him choose are standing there, waiting for him to top. Like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Like forcing someone into a race and then yelling at them for not winning it.
I’m in college now. A hosteler. And I won’t lie, being away from home has helped me breathe. I don’t have to watch those fights every day. I don’t have to hear the yelling, the taunts, the silent dinners. But he does. He’s in it every single day.
Sometimes he sends me voice notes late at night. Just rants. Half sentences. Anger sitting right beneath his voice. Once he said, “I told him, I can’t do this, let me switch to commerce. It’s just one subject, Papa. Just one subject.” But of course, dad said no. Said it’s too late. Said he should just study harder.
But he’s tired. That much I can tell. These days when I ask him how he’s doing, he just says, “Bas ho hi nahi raha. Kuch samajh nahi aa raha.” I know what that means. I’ve said those words too.
And I hate that I can’t fix this. I hate how I’m sitting here, miles away, while he’s drowning in a mess he didn’t even create. Sometimes I just tell him, hold on, just a few more months. College is close. Freedom is close. But inside, I know that doesn’t erase the last two years. Doesn’t undo the pressure, the suffocation, the nights he spent staring at pages he didn’t believe in.
I just hope he makes it out without forgetting how bright he used to be.
Because he really was. He really is.”
— From a college student
Editor’s Note:
This story comes from a sibling, watching his brother get pushed into a stream he never chose and then blamed for not excelling in it.
We chose to keep this monologue raw. Because sometimes, the way students speak in private – the way they vent, curse, and cry – tells the truth better than anything polished ever could.
If you’ve ever felt powerless in the face of someone else’s expectations… this story is for you.
You’re not alone.
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