I sat down in my old chair, hardly noticing the groaning old fabric as I fumbled around the desk, trying to find the leather-bound journal. My eyes closed when my fingers felt the

familiar callouses. Flicking open the magnetic latch, I grabbed a black pen and began to write.

January 29, 2014

Sometimes when I look back at my life, I don’t even know where it all began. Perhaps that’s because it began before I was born. The cycle had started many generations ago. The same story repeated itself every thirty years, but this time mine had a twist.   My parents, born and raised in India, had wanted to be doctors, but in fulfilling their parents’ unrequited dreams; they

became the other kind of doctors, the ones with Ph.D. stamped behind their names. Then, August 3, 1987, I was born, daughter of two immigrants, with my fate already sealed – I was to become a doctor from Harvard Med.

People always say, chase after your dreams. They say, don’t listen to anyone but your heart. Do what you want to do and just forget about the rest. It’s not that easy to forget about the rest of the world and just be who you want to be. It’s not that easy.  My name is Priya Aggarwal and this is the story of fulfilling your dreams “Year of the Indian Chick”.

The years came and went somewhere. After my dad died, my mom became even moreobsessive, telling me it would be a tribute to him if I became a doctor. After that, I don’t know

where my days went. All I remember is that every waking minute was spent studying for stressful AP classes, finding new extracurriculars to enhance my resume, and sneaking in writing

time long after my mom went to sleep.

I paused my pen for a moment and leaned back. Wanting to relive the journey that got me here, I rested my pen on the wooden desk, picked up the journal, and began to flip back.

May 18, 2001

It was a warm morning in sunny California. I woke up that morning, stretched, and smiled until I heard my mom yelling. “Priya, wake up, look the college letters came in. Come

down quickly, you need to pray before you open them!”

Solemnly I walked downstairs and into our home temple. Standing in front of the idols, I silently prayed. “Please god, oh please god let me get a rejection letter from Harvard today.

PLEASE, please help me god!”

“Come on Priya lets go open the letters!” See, I’m soooo excited, my hands are shaking.”

My mother said as she latched onto my arm.

Walking into the kitchen, on the counter was a pile of letters.

“Eeeee,” my mom squealed as she walked to the pile. “Nope, no, nah, nope, no, ahhh here it is!”

Turning towards my frozen state, she said, “Your dream.”

I wanted to shout and say no, “It’s not my dream, my dream is the third letter in that stack, this is your dream.” But I stayed quiet and just said “yah.”

Already opening the envelope she said, “I know you are probably scared so how about I open it for you? Hmm?”

Saying nothing, I walked over to the pile, grabbed the NYU envelope and shakily began to open it.

“YOU GOT INTO HARVARD! OH MY BABY I AM SO PROUD OF YOU I CANNOT TELL YOU HOW HAPPY YOUR FATHER WOULD BE IF HE WAS HERE.” She exclaimed as she hugged me tightly, oblivious to the letter in my hand or the tears in my eyes.

“Yah mom, that’s great” I said as I peeled her off of me and ran up the stairs. Slamming my door and sinking down against it, I began to sob. Why, why did I have to get into Harvard?

Why did today have to be the most awful day of my life? The day when I got into my dream school, NYU, I got into my parents’ dream school as well. I sobbed and sobbed, ignoring my

mother’s knocks.

November 10, 2001

The days have faded into each other. I don’t remember graduating, I don’t remember leaving my childhood home, I don’t remember freshman orientation, I just don’t remember. It’s

like the days were all passed in a sub consciousness and now I cannot believe I’ve been in these classes for over a month. I don’t understand why anyone would want to come here. It’s like a prison, like every breath I take here is stale with the blood, sweat and tears of all the other kids that came here and broke their backs to stay afloat of the competition. I feel like I’m slowly becoming a hollow shell.

I talked to mom today. The conversation naturally started out about my classes.

“Well mom,” I said, “today in French, I wrote a poem.”

“WHAT? I pay so much money for your classes and you waste your time on that stupid writing hobby of yours.”

“It’s not just a hobby, it’s my passion.”

Quiet for a second

“Well let’s hear your passion then.”

“You really want to hear it?”

“Yes.”

“It’s called Tragedy.

Blinding light hits my eyes

It’s an arena, my fate it will decide

To each his own

There is no place to hide

I walk alone

Scared but strong

The lights fade out

I am a pawn

Dancing and twirling

A fake smile on my face

I know, I know, once I fall down

Another will take my place

Never ending ladders

It’s a race to the top

Do or die

Below is a plummeting drop

Broken souls lay littered

Break or be broken, it’s the strategy

After all,

Reality is the tragedy”

“I have to go now. Bye.” That’s all she said.

December 1, 2001

“Mom, I’ve decided to drop out. What you aren’t going to yell or scream at me?”

“I’m disappointed.”

The line went dead.

February 5, 2002

It’s been a month at NYU and it feels like I’m walking in the clouds. I’m so glad I had asked them to hold my spot for a year. I have friends here, I love my professors, I love getting up

in the morning because I get to write. It’s just like everything has been going right except mom still hasn’t talked to me. I didn’t even go home for winter break; I just stayed in New York. I think, I think I broke her heart.

April 1, 2004

I GOT THE JOB AT THE NEW YORK TIMES! I cannot believe it. I don’t even remember my interview. It was finals week, I was half dead, and I kind of just winged it. All I remember is the last question.

The interviewer asked, “You aren’t even a graduate yet. Why should you get the job over all the others and how are you going to manage it with all your coursework?”

You know when your heart stops going wild and you’re totally calm and your inner self tells you ‘girl you got this!’ Well, that’s what it felt like then. I just calmly stated, “You should hire me because of my passion. I am more passionate about writing then every single one of those other people out there. And if you don’t believe what I say, take a look at the facts. I

dropped out of Harvard to pursue writing. As for the juggling a job and coursework, Joseph Campbell once said, “Find a place where there is joy and the joy will burn out the pain.”(Finding

Joe".

I think the Joseph Campbell line did the trick.

I called mom to let her know, but she didn’t pick up. It’s been two years and I don’t know how to fix our relationship anymore.

April 9, 2005

Today was indescribable. Mom came today.

I came to the apartment from my English lit. class and saw mom sitting on the couch, sobbing her heart out while clutching something to her chest.

“Mom, mom what’s wrong? Are you hurt, mom please.”

She just grabbed my face and said, “I never knew, I never knew. Oh god, I am so sorry.”

“Mom, mom what are you talking about?”

“I read it.”

“Read what.”

“This.” She handed the thing she was clutching over to me.

“My book, you read my book?” I whispered.

“Yes, and I’m so sorry sweetie. I had come to ask you why you did it, why did you dropout and then I read your book and everything makes sense now.”

“Mom I--”

“No just let me talk. I hated you for two years. You know that? I hated you. I hated you for ruining my dream, your father’s dream, your dream. I hated you for making me break my

promise to your father that you would become a doctor. I couldn’t believe that you had dropped out because a little competition scared you, so I had come to find out the real reason behind your dropping out. And then, after reading that, I realized becoming a doctor was never your dream.

You spent your entire childhood trying to appease us, but all you wanted to do was write. You just wanted to write and we never understood that. And finally when you listened to your heart, I punished you for that. I’m so sorry and I want you to know that I’m so proud of you for becoming such a beautiful, talented, and strong woman. I love you Priya.”

“Oh mom, I love you too.” We hugged and then I leaned back. “But what about dad’s promise?”

“Honey he is dead and to keep a promise I made to the dead alive, I cannot kill the living.”

We spent the whole night yapping away.

The next morning, when I woke up, mom was already awake.

Stumbling bleary-eyed into the kitchen and graciously taking the cup of coffee my mom offered, I plopped down on the couch.

“Honey,” she began.

“Hmmm”

“I did something good without your permission. I showed your book to my friend who is high up in a publishing company.”

“WHAT?”

“Just listen, and they want to publish it.”

“How could you? I trusted you with that book!”

“Honey, she is already here.”

“Hi Priya, I’m Denise.”

I spun around to see a tall lady smiling at me.

Grumpily I accepted her hand.

“I’m Priya, nice to meet you.”

“So Priya, what do you want to name the book? We will start the editing process soon and need a working title.”

“Umm, Year of the Indian Chick.”

“You sure?”

“Yes and thank you so much for this opportunity.”

“No problem. Here’s my card, I’ll call you to get some logistics done.”

“Thank you so much!”

“Oh, my pleasure and honey.”

“Yes?”

“You have some drool on the side of your face.”

A smile adorned my face as I remembered my horror-like expression. I closed my journal and took out my book; Denise had sent the final version in today. Looking at it I realized, I really had come a full circle. The journey was hard, plagued by fear, I lost something every step of the way, but I unseen forces opened up door where there walls. I found my heaven on earth, I found my bliss.