I still remember the day I got my 12th class result. I was sobbing because I knew those marks were not enough to secure a seat in Delhi University in the course of my choice.
And then there was my Dad — happy, proud, glowing with excitement. For him, these were “first class” marks. What more could a parent want? He distributed sweets in the neighbourhood along with xerox copies of my marksheet. Yes, you read that right! It wasn’t the Facebook era, so my father literally distributed photocopies of my marksheet in our lane.
He was celebrating his daughter’s achievement. But I still remember how exposed I felt when my marks became public conversation. I felt as if my identity had escaped my control. A marksheet was no longer a mere document. It had become reputation.
There is a peculiar cruelty in how Indian society treats marks. A child who scores 95 becomes “bright.” A child who scores 65 becomes “average.” Somewhere in between, millions quietly learn to measure their worth using red ink.
Perhaps that is where the damage begins. Once a society starts attaching self-worth to marks, children stop learning for curiosity. They begin learning for survival.
Today, years later, I watch the same system collapsing under its own weight year after year. NEET paper leaks, recruitment scams, On-Screen Marking controversies, students claiming answer sheets are not even theirs... the same society that told students “one mark can change your life” now casually tells them the system itself may be compromised.
Imagine the mental toll. A teenager spends two years, or even more, isolated inside coaching factories pausing vacations, hobbies, and joy itself. Then one morning, news breaks that the paper leaked, or that evaluation systems malfunctioned, or that ranks may not reflect merit at all.
What exactly are children supposed to believe after this? That marks define them? Or that marks depend on luck, access, corruption, softwares, and institutional competence?
The tragedy is not merely corruption. The tragedy is emotional overinvestment. We built an education culture where a 17-year-old believes life is permanently damaged by one exam. No civilization should place that much emotional burden on children.
This does not mean effort is meaningless. Hard work matters. Discipline matters. Knowledge matters. But marks are, at best, an imperfect snapshot taken on one particular day, under one particular system. They cannot measure kindness, imagination, resilience, storytelling, emotional intelligence, or the ability to survive failure without becoming bitter.
I have seen some toppers spend adulthood terrified of losing validation because when self-worth is built entirely on performance, life becomes one endless examination hall.
As children, we were told that marks decide our future. As adults, we slowly discover that relationships, health, character and adaptability decide happiness, peace, trust, and survival.
Marks may open a door, but they cannot walk your life for you.
The real lesson our generation must teach the next one is this: study seriously, work hard, and respect learning, but never confuse a number with your identity. Systems fail. Question papers leak. Evaluation methods break. And after all that, you still remain a human being far bigger than the marks printed on paper.
