Vidushi?

 My name is Vidushi. It originates from the Sanskrit word "Vidvat" (विद्वत्), meaning "learned" or "scholarly."

In other words, "Vidushi" means "learned woman." When your name connotes intelligence, people have certain expectations of you. You yourself have certain expectations of me. 

Looking back, I don’t think I was ever an “intelligent” student; rather, I was a diligent one. I studied, even though I never got enough marks to be called “the topper.”. 

I was never perfect at anything. I wasn’t the best in studies, I wasn't at all good at sports, I wasn't good at public speaking, and I wasn't a good singer or dancer. I always thought I was solving a math equation—an unsolvable proof. A proof of being Vidushi. I tried every written theorem in the book, but none coincided with my equation.

I always felt like I needed to act a certain way, to sound a certain way to fit in, to find those theorems. I think I wasn't searching for my place in the world, but rather trying to conform to what I thought was expected of me. I was constantly trying to fit into the mold defined by the books around me.

Where do you see yourself in the next five years?

I never had an answer to this question because I never gave thought to my future. I was so obsessed with living up to the expectations of my name that I never took the time to consider any goals or aspirations. I always felt puzzled over how people had such a certain answer to this question. Did they solve their proof already? But how? From which book?

When would I find the book? How did you find the book? In what library?

As I continued to ponder these questions, I stumbled upon a book about rules to follow while writing essays. Every paragraph should be connected to each other; there should be a continuous theme throughout. Every subheading should have a consistent flow; Have a good conclusion. 

Isn't it funny how we put restrictions even on creativity? While writing, I never followed any such rules. Both connectivity and a single theme are always absent from my class. I don't know how to confide in these basic rules. My mind is simply too hindered to follow such rules. To escape these questions, I started writing blogs, but the never ending restrictions seemed to follow my every footstep. (P)

But I don't want to have a theme. No, I don't want everyone to understand what I write. I want my writing to be raw and unfiltered. It should reflect the chaos of my thoughts. I want my words to be like me—disorganised, cluttered, and flawed.

Who am I?

I'm not sure why, but when someone says something like, "I believe in you" or "you will do great in the future," I become so overwhelmed. How do they know this? How are others so certain of my uncertainty? 

It's both comforting and unsettling to have someone believe in us so strongly.

I don't know why, but whenever someone points out something, my first instinct is to argue and prove myself. I have a constant need to prove myself. I have a constant need to live up to my name. I have a constant need to prove myself Vidushi. Maybe deep down, I just want to believe in myself as much as others do.

I wonder if I should have followed those rules, maybe then I wouldn’t feel as lost as I do today. “Your words are good, but they lack a consistent flow. Arrange your words better so that they hit better.” (K) Do I agree? Yes, my words are like my life. They lack a consistent flow. 

Up until tenth grade, I was a studious student who scored enough to be called a "so-so topper." When I got into 11th grade, my grades started to dip, and I started having an entire identity crisis. If I am not that so-so-topper, then who am I? I didn't know.

I hated the feeling of not getting enough marks. It bothered me that I wasn't living up to my name anymore.

I know I can not be defined solely on the basis of my academic growth; I have a life outside of school, filled with interests and passions that make me who I am. I know all of this, yet I don't know how to let go. I don't know how to forget how that teacher included my name on the list of students who failed physics. I was at a loss for words.

I am sorry if I talk too much about my grades. I understand. But, what can I do? For the majority of my life, all I knew were my grades.

That unsolvable proof never got solved because I was searching for my proof in other books. How would I find theorems that are yet to be published in the common books of libraries? 

After rummaging through obscure sections of a library, I at last located the book. I thought, at last, I could solve my theorems. Yet something didn't feel right. Why was I searching for my theorems in other books? Why am I trying to confide in solutions written by someone else? I closed the book and set it aside. It was time to shift from searching for answers to crafting my own solutions.

Let me write my book; don't worry with the book.

A single page hasn't been written,

What I wrote is just some waste paper.

~Vidushi Anand