Jack of All Trades, Master of None

 

Have you ever felt the pain of being just a mediocre? Despite having great ambitions and putting in your best to it, have you had this feeling of being nowhere? Does it haunt you? If so, this is for you.

I grew up knowing comforts that many around me didn’t have. Perhaps because I am the elder daughter of someone whose own life was a ledger of unfulfilled dreams, many doors towards learning were opened for me from a very young age. Everything to foster my education and talent was provided to me way before I had to ask or even be aware of my need.

From the Balarama magazines delivered to our home as far back as my memory goes, to every book I read later on, everything was bought with the strict intention that I must grow up reading. I was around eight when I started learning music. Soon after, I was enrolled in dance classes. I was in the fifth grade when I first acted in a play for the school youth festival. For a long time, I used to participate in elocution competitions. Then, my interest gradually shifted toward writing. Poetry, short stories, essays...

But nothing took solid shape. The three teachers I went to learn dance, all quit their jobs within three days of my joining. I studied music for many years. It took me years just to pitch my voice correctly to the shruthi. When I realized I was only fit to be a chorus singer for the talented vocalists around me, I stepped away from group songs and all in school. Somewhere along the way, I did manage to grasp enough music to hum a tune. But I often wish I possessed the depth of knowledge that matched the number of years I put into studying it.

From my lack of talent in music that I fled into acting gradually. I loved doing theatre. It was not just the acting; back then, there was a thrilling rush in forming a team, coordinating it, practicing and steering it to success. I was the one coordinating the team, but I was never a great actress. Throughout my time on stage, neither my talent nor my physicality ever gave me a ‘central character vibe.’ We were a government school team that would make it up to the district level every single time, bag the second prize, and return. Because we did not have the money to spend more on the production or to go on an appeal. That was it. Similarly, my stories, poems, essays, and speeches never rose above a mediocre level. Never.

As I grew older, the complete freedom and responsibility to choose my own path was placed squarely on me. I chose to study English Literature because of my inclination toward reading, or more precisely, towards literature. Even now, I am sure that if it hadn’t been English, I might have chosen to study Malayalam or Sanskrit. I cannot imagine myself choosing a field outside of literature. My brain does not work otherwise.

It was my father who inspired me to dream big. When I was in high school and mentioned I want to become a schoolteacher, my father who told me that I could study so much more, and that if I wanted to teach, I can learn more and teach the college students. At every milestone, he would show me the greater heights I could reach. Thus, having studied in the Malayalam medium at a school near my house, I joined the best government college in Palakkad for my bachelor’s degree in English. Moving from there to a Central University for my post-graduation, and later joining an even better university for research, was not just my luck; it was also my hard work. Arriving there, it felt for a moment that life truly rewards us in proportion to our efforts.

When I secured admission to a PhD programme at the country’s one of the best Central Universities, I believed I had finally found my place. To me, it was never just another degree. In my mind, earning a PhD from such an institution meant that a life in academia was within reach. A faculty position at a good Central University right after my study, the opportunity to pursue research more seriously, to write, to teach, to participate in conversations that mattered, and to contribute to the field I loved.

Today, the two letters “Dr.” stand before my name. But instead of happiness, I feel a strange sense of numbness. The realization that these two letters will not take me to the places I yearned for is painful. My talent and hard work have merely elevated me from a mediocre person to a slightly better version of mediocre and left me stranded there. The weight of dreams and expectations numbs me. I lie awake at night, unable to sleep, thinking about how I lack the capability or the circumstance to do anything for the parents who gave me wings, now in their old age. It feels like my destiny is to remain unnoticed in the professional sphere, despite holding the highest degree in the country from one of its finest universities.

What I did not know was that, in today’s world, a PhD is just another degree after graduation, rather than a reflection of years of intellectual commitment or scholarly curiosity. I had imagined that earning a doctorate would signify something more. Completing a PhD does not promise financial stability, recognition, or even the opportunity to continue doing the work that brought you to research in the first place. The path I had imagined, moving from doctoral research into teaching and scholarship turned out to be far more uncertain than I had ever anticipated. Forget a place in academia; it doesn’t even assure you of a job in a nearby parallel college.

No, that is not entirely true. A PhD will get you something, somewhere. After all, that is what almost any degree is expected to do. But that was never what I had worked towards. I did not spend years writing entrance examinations, publishing paper after paper, and pushing myself to finish my PhD on time simply to end up anywhere, earning a below-average salary in a job that has little to do with the scholarship I have spent years cultivating.

Yet, what I am being offered and what I will probably be offered is the role of a language teacher in some random institution, for random pay, teaching communication skills and soft skills.   I cannot help asking myself why I spent five years immersed in research on Translation Studies, only to find myself explaining nouns and verbs to adults. Somewhere between the dream of becoming a scholar and the reality of the job market, I seem to have lost sight of what these five years were meant to prepare me for.

Of course, there are people with exceptional brains who find their place in academia with relative ease. I am not talking about them. They have earned what they have through brilliance. Some people are incredibly lucky to be at the right place at the right time. I am not talking about them either. I do not possess what it takes to reach where I am striving to go. Neither the shrewd intelligence, nor the influence. I do not know if I will ever reach the places I dreamed of walking toward. Yet, my mind refuses to settle for something random because I know I deserve better.

At every stage of life, my results remind me that I am nothing extraordinary. I am exhausted by this war between the ordinary and the extraordinary. At times, I hate and curse my own mind for wandering in search of the exceptional. I crucify it, asking why it cannot just be content. I am tired of constantly carrying the pressure to do better, to become better. I am tired of this endless rat race that life seems to have become. But if I give up now, I won’t even have an income to support myself, let alone my family.

And yet, I still hope that someday, everything will align in my favour.

I know I am not speaking just for myself. I understand those who hesitate to admit this. To them, a tight hug. Let’s start a club: “Jack of all trades, master of none...” And the battle continues.