BACK in 1991, Punjab was going through dark times. Turmoil, uncertainty and a lingering sense of fear had woven themselves into the fabric of everyday life. College and university campuses were no exception to the unrest, which was exploited by opportunistic elements.
A university’s MBA programme was highly coveted, with only 20 seats available. Initially, I was placed third on the waiting list. Fortune smiled on me when the two candidates ahead of me opted out, clearing my path to admission.
However, my joy was short-lived. A faction of influential students had set their sights on a candidate further down the list. Rumours were rife that deep pockets and political muscle were at play to secure his spot. By stepping up to claim what was rightfully mine, I had unwittingly disrupted a well-oiled machine.
The day I went to deposit my admission fee, a hostile crowd of nearly 70 students cornered me. I had only two friends by my side. At first, the instigators tried sweet-talking me into backing out. When I dug my heels in, they showed their true colours. Persuasion gave way to outright bullying, threats and intimidation. They demanded that I forfeit my seat, making it crystal clear that defiance would come at a heavy price. Facing such overwhelming numbers, panic set in. Fearing for my safety, my resolve cracked. With a heavy heart, I signed a withdrawal statement — even though I had already paid the fee.
For the next few days, that decision tore me apart. The more I reflected, the more the injustice stung. I had been bullied into surrendering something earned through sheer merit. Giving up meant throwing away years of sacrifice. I gathered a few trusted friends and took up my case with the Vice-Chancellor. He listened patiently and assured me that justice would prevail, advising me only to keep a low profile.
I quietly slipped back into classes. When the bullies caught wind of my return, they tried to corner me again. This time, I stood my ground. Respectfully yet firmly, I told them point-blank that I would not surrender a seat I had earned fair and square.
The weeks that followed were an emotional rollercoaster. Looking over my shoulder became second nature. I stayed in different hostel rooms every night, constantly on high alert. Yet, despite the knot of fear in my stomach, I refused to back down.
Realising that I wouldn’t bend, the intimidation faded. Shortly afterwards, the Dean of Academic Affairs invited me to his office for a cup of tea, full of praise for my resilience.
I held on to my admission and successfully completed my MBA. Looking back, that wasn’t just a battle for a seat; it was a defining fight for self-respect and the principle that merit should never bow to might. That ordeal taught me a lesson that has stayed with me for a lifetime: when you earn an opportunity through hard work, never lay it down at the feet of fear.
The writer works at All India Radio, Jalandhar