This piece is courtesy our first guest writer, Mahika Kothawade!
In January 2020, the Batch of 2020 was deemed to be the luckiest of the lot, entering industries that functioned like well-oiled machines, welcoming graduates with open arms and paychecks lower than expectations, as expected.
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Fast forward (or slow scroll) to July 2020 and we have millions of graduates around the world feeling like plastic bags drifting in the wind. If you still haven’t caught drift of this wind, allow me to give you a rundown of how I, a Batch of 2020 graduate, entered into a long-term relationship with rejection and a little summer fling with uncertainty.
As a fashion enthusiast, I allowed myself to splurge on a farewell saree well in advance for a farewell that catfished me on social media and ultimately, rejected me. The next rejection which, unknowingly, opened the floodgates for more, came in the form of a text message from a potential recruiter saying that the management had decided to freeze hiring due to COVID-19.
After a 5-year long relationship with undergraduate education that ended with no closure, I switched to Tinder for professionals, otherwise known as LinkedIn. I expected my ‘impressive’ biodata to get me multiple matches, a dreamlike scenario where I would be spending hours getting to know my new match, maybe even indulging in banter in the form of ideal work environment conversations. But there I was, religiously swiping right on every potential recruiter, whilst waking up to a grand total of zero new matches every day for 4 months.
Resorting to online courses during the initial lockdown phases felt similar to texting the ex that I had sworn I was through with, but could not resist talking to for the sake of validation and entertainment. There were several moments where I looked for deeper validation from society by overestimating my privilege. If I may say so without being bashed for it, I assumed that getting accepted into an MBA program at Stanford without work experience would be as easy as getting a gym membership whilst being unfit. My biggest rejection came in the form of a potential big-league recruiter ghosting me. It felt wrong and for a split second, I deemed myself to be completely useless, as I saw myself being turned down for another familiar face.
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My worries were no longer about family, friends, romantic interests, shopping or recreational activities, but about the ‘real’ problems, or so I thought. I learned to form poetry in the ruins of rejection and, as bleak as the poetry may be, my biggest lesson was that I was not the only piece of scrap in the yard. This optimism opened my eyes to the few good things that continue to happen for me. I have been cooking because I want to, not because my grandmother is preparing me for marriage *cough* Indian Matchmaking *cough*, I learn because the internet is an interesting place and not because it guarantees societal validation.
Times and rejections have been draining but I have received more, than given, from the worries I assumed were childlike. A string of video calls with friends unseen for months, memes depicting our stagnant but unanimous livelihoods and the moments of joy when the entire family could come together to work out, play cards or even just watch the sunset every evening, everything that I was allowed to take for granted until rejection showed me my place. Maybe it was more about finding the ‘precedented’ joy in unprecedented times.
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