The future's not ours, to see. Que Sera, Sera.

My trajectory in life, to what I want to be has changed many times, between growing eye brows and growing weight. For the longest part of my growing years, I wanted to be a doctor – surgeon to be precise, even before I could spell it. It all changed one fine day. The day, I marched into the lab for my first dissection. As we entered the OR, the scene was tense, chloroformed rats lay in a jar, and we picked one individually to our operation table. The crowded room of spectators added to the tension. They were girls, who’d not signed up for bloodshed by opting for Computers instead. Watching us perform was the closest they’d ever get.

I placed the drugged rat on my mat and there was a moment. My first surgery. I froze. I didn’t know its name, didn’t know if it had a family, didn’t know if it had plans for the evening before ending up here. Not that knowing would make me comfortable. I was just plain uncomfortable and I thought this was wrong. Yes, I wanted to learn to save a life but not by starting to kill one. It’s been 10 years and I’m still dramatic about it!

After watching me cry for 45 mins, the teacher felt it was time to take things into her own hands. No, not dissect it for me, but threatened to flunk me if I didn’t unfreeze and now! Every sound was magnified, just like my breathing. It felt like a hangover. Between the two of us, I was glad to be the one breathing.

Loud clapping broke my trance. ‘You’ve got the hands of a surgeon’ she said. ‘Not a drop of blood!’ I wasn’t sure where I was or what she was talking about till I looked down. There lay my rat, naked & exposed. Along with its organs, I saw something else. I saw 8 little fetus all packaged in embryos, tiny pods in a pea, inside. That was my last memory before I collapsed.

It didn’t matter how clean my hands were. The precision and finesse I carried out my first dissection with, none of that mattered. To me, I was the murderer. That day I felt my dreams dissolve into the rats body fluids. That day, I also realized another phobia. The sight of blood, it made my insides churn.

Realization that the one thing you always thought you’d be is not what you want to be anymore, does not work wonders for self esteem. I was done. Then, somewhere between Biology and Physics I discovered Chemistry. It was good while it lasted, puppy love :)

I then moved on wanting to pursue a career as a fashion photographer or as cabin crew. Getting paid and touring the world fascinated me. It still does. But intervention changed the course. My parents didn’t think being cabin crew was a career. And photography - too expensive and unheard of. Post an MBA, having spent a number of years doing what I think I’m good at; I’m staring into familiarity again. A familiar feeling, just like the one in the Bio Lab. I’m done. It’s now time. But what is my calling, where am I headed, why isn’t life intervening now?

Should the disillusionment be worrying? I vaguely remember the words of Baz Luhrmann’s ‘Sunscreen’

'Don’t feel guilty if you don’t know what you want to do with your life…the most interesting people I know didn’t know at 22 what they wanted to do with their lives, some of the most interesting 40 year olds I know still don’t.'