I remember failure never used to bother me before. When I was a kid, going to school for me was almost like a ritual. It was something every child my age was doing so since I couldn't sit home and do nothing with my time I had to do it as well. I was never pressurised by my parents to do well. In fact, my parents were the cool kinds who would let me stay home from school whenever I wanted. I was never forced to do my homework and even one day before exams if I was seen playing in our colony park it was never cause for concern. I would return home, have dinner, watch television and then go off to sleep. I was the kind of child that went to school on exam days with the least amount of tension. I had accepted that I was up to no good and no matter how hard I tried I would never get what was being taught to stay in my head.

There was nothing extraordinary about me as a child. There still isn't but I like to think I've improved a little. The best part of this was that my parents were never disappointed in me. They never complained to their friends about how their children didn't study or didn't do their homework etc. They complained about other things; like how I didn't eat enough green vegetables. That used to offend me more than my sad state of affairs in studies which I accepted with no questions.

I am still coming to terms with how there are hardly any similarities between me and that child a decade ago. I never imagined I would grow up to be competitive. I think it was around the time when I was 15 that my grades began to matter to me. It was as if suddenly I had gotten brains and I wanted to prove to people that I could use them. I just didn't want to be average. If there was something that I couldn't do I just couldn't accept it. It never became serious enough for it to be a problem but I have a harder time accepting failure than most people.

Ever since the tenth grade I have been getting good grades. All my friends and teachers always knew I'd end up doing well. Even with history honours. I didn't want it. I still ended up topping first year of college. Somehow my best friend and parents were more elated than I was. There's this nagging fear sometimes. What if all this turns out to be a sheer lucky streak? What will I do when the fact that no hard work is behind those marks becomes apparent?

I just hope that it continues. Studying at the last minute, sometimes just reading through notes in the bus and hoping that that question comes because that's the one that you've atleast read. I don't know how long I can rely on this method. I just seem to be following it subconsciously.

Hmm..its so strange. I think at one point of time I was the stupidest child in my family. I hope the change is a permanent one.