But...

I feel like no-one ever told the truth to me
About growing up and what a struggle it would be
In my tangled state of mind
I’ve been looking back to find
Where I went wrong
— Queen (Too Much Love Will Kill You)

Everyone at some point in their life hears the phrase “ Its not you but …”. It may perhaps not be exactly as quoted, however the message is the same in all languages and so is its effect. As a kid it is sometimes heard after a scolding from their parents, especially in public, for some minor offence. The parents later explain that the diatribe was more intended for the benefit of neighbors who have thoroughly spoilt their children. Although the intentions were noble, it doesn’t make up for the utter humiliation in front of all your friends and random strangers. These days eventually pass and just as you think that you can do no wrong, those dreaded words come back to haunt you.

This time it’s the coach at school who cuts you from the team since the “so called regulations” allow for only certain number of players. Usually coupled with a “Keep trying son and you may make it next year”, it feels like an almighty slap especially since the coach is fully aware that it is your last year at that school. Now, one starts to comprehend that along with the neighbors, it is also the people who write sporting-rules who are to blame. So you start thinking that everything henceforth should be fine since surely, there is nobody else on this conspiracy to ruin your life. What you do not realize that it is just the beginning.

With a stunned look on your face, you await the college professor outside his office. He has just flunked you in a course, which you expected to sail through. As he lets you in, he starts with those words again while explaining that he had to fit all the grades on a curve, which of course means that some students have to flunk. I guess that it was unfortunate that your name got plucked out of the hat. Now you are beginning to get a grip on the entire situation. For the first time, there is a slight chance that there was never a conspiracy between the neighbors, the sporting authorities and the educational board. Perhaps it was something else. In any case you have had your share of misfortunes – or have you.

During a momentary lapse of reason, you decide that you have what it takes to be a research scientist and thus apply for graduate studies. It is only a matter of time before the best program is going to offer you admission with financial support. Then the letters start arriving, and they appear to be awfully thin. Shouldn’t there be a lot of acceptance forms to sign? Upon opening, they usually start with “We regret…” and continue to explain the same thing, which you are now accustomed to hearing. However, there are always some institutions that need cheap labor and you find yourself working for a research advisor who has you convinced that he is the reincarnation of Einstein. After an energetic beginning, it is only a few weeks till both of you realize the futility of the collaboration, but continue nevertheless like a couple in a bad marriage. Then suddenly you find that your paychecks have gone missing and after confronting your boss, it is learned that it was not you but the funding situation, which has led to the unfortunate event. Such a conversation is usually had just before you head off to beg for food and your advisor leaves for his biannual vacation. But surely, graduate school is just the last hurdle. Once it’s done, you are going to land up a nice job with a fat salary.

It is not a good sign when your boss approaches your desk with a security officer. As much as it hurts him, he has come to let you go. He explains that the company desperately wants your services but they are headed in a new direction and some sort of “re-structuring’ was needed. Honestly, it was not you but numbers, which some financial consultant pulled up, thus necessitating the lay-offs. While your manager does his best to put on a sad face, the rest of your ex-colleagues give you sympathetic looks while pretending to work. However jobs are dime a dozen, aren’t they? With your qualifications, recruiters would be lining up outside your door…at least soon enough when the economy recovers.

It is a wonderful morning. The one bright beacon of your life has asked you to meet her for lunch. Today is finally when she declares her undying love to you, which of course you have known for a long time. Then you will give the rehearsed speech about how you never thought of her as more than a friend, but now that she has mentioned it, you may actually contemplate going out with her. Amongst these flights of fancy, it is unpleasant to hear her talk so admiringly about a handsome co-worker who wants to go out with her for the opera. At this moment, plan A has been abandoned and the time for groveling is upon you. After you have blabbered for an eternity, there is a strange expression on her face, which will need a symposium of psychologists to decipher. Then finally she says what you have only heard several times before. Just for good measure, she adds an epilogue of “ There will be some other lucky girl”.

All your life you have been told that it was not your fault. You were just placed at the wrong place at the wrong time. Everyone has sympathized but no one has offered any solution. Let’s hope that next time anything goes wrong, it is your fault. Maybe that will break the jinx.

Disclaimer: All of the above is just an objective view. Not a personal memoir.