Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both.
I always had it planned out: write the NEET exam and, become a doctor. Simple, right? Or so I thought. It’s amusing because I never considered an alternative if that didn’t pan out. It was ingrained in every fiber of my being. It wasn’t just a dream; it was my identity. Because that’s what 8-year-old Agnes wanted, and what 10-year-old and 12-year-old Agnes wanted, and even 15-year-old Agnes wanted it. I didn’t consider anything else. I was so convinced that 18-year-old Agnes would want the same, right?
Medicine was the conventional path. It seemed like the “safe” choice, a respected and lucrative career. Along with it, an undeniable allure, the noble endeavor of saving lives.
I opted for science in grade 11 (surprise, surprise). However, as time passed—not swiftly enough though—studying turned into a heavy burden. The looming pressure of the “final board exams” weighed heavily on me, and what used to bring me joy now became a source of dread. The subjects that once brought comfort now induced anxiety and distress.
Faced with the possibility that it might not materialize, I’m forced to confront the reality of having to reimagine my future. The weight of uncertainty hung heavy on my shoulders, casting doubt on the path ahead. I found myself at a crossroad, confronted with two distinct paths, each leading into the unknown.
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Change is inevitable, isn’t it? Nobody remains static; our beliefs evolve, our viewpoints shift, and our passions fluctuate. In our society, conformity often seems like the path of least resistance—the safe choice—to simply go along with the crowd and emulate the norm. For a long while, I stood and gazed down one road, trying to discern its destination amidst the undergrowth. The path stretched out before me, disappearing into the unknown. It beckoned with familiarity.
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Deep down, the fear gripped me that letting go of my vision of becoming a doctor stemmed from the apprehension of bidding farewell to my childhood. Letting go of that dream meant relinquishing the 8, 10, 12, and 15-year-old versions of Agnes, each deeply intertwined with the pursuit of medicine. It felt like severing ties with a part of myself that had been with me through every stage of growth and aspiration.
While attending a webinar, a college representative shared something that provoked my thoughts: holding on signifies believing in a past, while letting go signifies believing in a future.
Those words resonated deeply within me, challenging my perception of clinging to the familiar versus embracing the unknown. Perhaps, in releasing my childhood dream, I am not losing a part of myself, but rather making space for new dreams to take root and flourish. And then, almost impulsively, I chose the other road – Business.
I was faced with many uncertainties, doubts, and unanswered questions. Should I join the inaugural batch of BBA? Will this endeavor prove successful? What about living away from home? Will I regret this decision?
But, in that moment, I embrace the road less traveled, embracing the notion of carving my own unique path through life. The grassy path, the path no one has journeyed through, wanting wear, calls out to me.
Similar to the persona in Frost’s poem, we maneuver through the intricacies of decision-making, where each choice contributes to our individual story. Ultimately, “The Road Not Taken” serves as a timeless ode to the human experience, inspiring introspection and contemplation.
Back in June 2023,
Personal Interview Round,
“So, Agnes, tell me, why do you aspire to pursue business despite your background in science?”