I lost myself in the relentless rat race of JEE preparation.
My dad is a scientist. So, the pressure on me to become something started early. I was enrolled in tuitions as early as Class 3 to ensure someone kept an eye and made sure I didn’t slack off on my studies.
It felt as though the rat race had already begun for my parents, long before I even started preparing for JEE, or Joint Entrance Examination, for engineering courses.
In elementary school, scoring less than 35 out of 40 marks would be met with disapproval from my mother. Although my parents never expressed their disappointment outright, their indirect reactions often felt sharper.
I started believing that my performance in school was less about me and more about not letting my mother feel hurt because somehow my marks let her have a better position in society.
Photo: Abhinav P.S.
I do not have a single memory of my childhood where I was not worried about academics – the pressure was always looming over me like a shadow.
Whether I was playing football or was engaged in other co-curricular activities, I felt guilty, thinking I should be studying instead. At the time, this constant pressure didn’t seem to affect my mental health because I never had the opportunity to reflect on it.
Things escalated in class 8 when I was enrolled for JEE coaching and they started teaching us mathematics for class 11, as if a three-year head start was essential to clear the entrance test.
Initially, I was performing well in coaching and even scored 94% in my class 10 exams, which encouraged me to keep pursuing JEE. However, grade 11 and 12 were when I realised I felt trapped in a system I never wanted to be part of but couldn’t voice my thoughts to my parents.
The coaching system is rigid and monotonous; they train students for speed not for fostering creativity or a deeper understanding. Somehow, my well-educated parents too believed it was worth investing five years of my life in it.
However, I wonder now – was I put into this race because they didn’t want to take a risk? Or was I unable to convince them that I could pursue something else that I truly loved? After so many years of tuition and academic conditioning, I wasn’t even sure anymore.
I felt like I had no personality and no awareness beyond my subjects – I was, quite frankly, worried I had turned into a boring person. Was it the environment at home that made the JEE process so difficult for me or the inherently grueling nature of the exam itself?
I would spend hours at the coaching centre, even when I didn’t have any classes. I wasn’t sure whether the weekly proficiency exams were tracking my progress or adding to my fear of getting scolded by my parents.
I existed with no reflections of my own; I just followed instructions without a question, too scared to do anything outside what I was told.
I forced myself to fit into the system and in the process I lost touch with who I was. I used to like making origami but I had given up all hobbies apart from what I needed to do for JEE.
Then, at the beginning of class 12, the pandemic hit. This unexpected pause gave me space to breathe and reflect. That’s when I realised chasing a blind and aimless race into an abyss.
I reconnected with origami, a hobby that became my outlet and a necessary distraction. Origami, with its blend of discipline and creativity, felt like a contrast to JEE preparation, which lacked any creativity.
I still don’t know if I am the son who lost or the son who survived.
Origami became a metaphor for me, a gateway to express my emotions of when I felt trapped and when, eventually, I rediscovered hope.
We students are often forced into systems we never chose, and many of us silently endure the struggles. The series of photographs below are a depiction of the same.
Photo: Abhinav P.S.
The system seems alien at first. You are the lone red butterfly in a field of white – not by design, but by circumstances.
This is the first glimpse of a world modified by the poisonous coaching culture, where difference is a cross to be borne. The burnt edges of the paper signify the pressure, consuming the hopes and dreams – the true self you lost to be shaped into an unfitting mold. The white butterflies owe their resemblance to the peers who have already found adaptation – or resignation – in this system. When you now enter this universe you realise that personalities are mass-produced here. You’re the one outlier, in a world waiting for answers that conform to its regulations.
Photo: Abhinav P.S.
The person in red depicts students who are drawn into an individualistic and creative mind – the red butterfly. They stare back with curiosity, hope, and perhaps a willingness to embrace their uniqueness. The students in black shirts, expressionless, watch the white butterflies or look lost, while the student in red, smiling, follows the red butterfly – a symbol of individuality and creativity. But as the days unfold, the pressure of JEE slowly pulls them into conformity.
In conformity, disappearing feels safer. But what about happiness?
Photo: Abhinav P.S.
Some people embrace their individuality while others adhere to society’s social contract – there is a stark divide between them. The overshadowing of the white butterfly represents the system designed to normalise homogeneity and conventional success empowering over a single individual who tries to be different.
Photo: Abhinav P.S.
Once you are knee deep into a system like that of JEE coaching, you forget who you truly are. You get so alienated from yourself that your own perception is formed on the basis of what this world desires from you, not what your true desires are.
Photo: Abhinav P.S.
Then comes a time when one thinks they can borrow some traits of the masses in the rat race in order to keep up the pace; just so that they can have a “secure” future.
Photo: Abhinav P.S.
The breaking point: This image captures a powerful moment of self-realisation while nearing a collapse of individuality under pressure.
Photo: Abhinav P.S.
The value of individuality: Another realisation hits – the student realises that everyone belongs to a different background, possessing varying sets of aptitudes and abilities. The burnt paper under the red butterfly symbolises the indelible impact on their mind of the student due to the impact of this gruelling system.
Photo: Abhinav P.S.
There are times when the student, lost in the race, succumbs to the pressure. Some end up taking their lives.
Photo: Abhinav P.S.
However, sometimes, a few students try to shake up the system; they break free and pave their own path, albeit with sacrifices. They learn to build their own road to success.
Abhinav P.S. is pursuing engineering at Shiv Nadar University. This visual project has emerged out of a course on photographic image taught by Sreedeep Bhattacharya.
