Written by Arjit Sharma
The death of three civil services aspirants in the basement of a coaching centre — Shreya Yadav, Tanya Soni, and Nevin Dalvin — has caused a furore in the country. Questions have been raised about the entire UPSC ecosystem. I call it an ecosystem because the term “industry” cannot capture the full gamut of what is happening in these institutes. With this incident, the ecosystem seems to be undergoing an existential crisis — with everyone questioning the value of the exam, the way it is conducted, the continued obsession with UPSC, the government’s role, etc.
It is undeniable that the UPSC Civil Services Examination is one of the most prestigious government exams in the country. On clearing these exams, power is a guaranteed reward. So is influence and recognition at a relatively young age. The attention that successful candidates receive from the media, family and friends, and sometimes even the government, adds to its allure.
But what about the life of the aspirants both “successful” and “unsuccessful”? Movies, web series, podcasts, etc., have tried to capture the lives of aspirants time and again — yet most provide a superficial view.
As someone who has been a part of this ecosystem, both as an aspirant and a cog in the machine, the recent news reports highlighting the issues faced by UPSC aspirants ring a little too close to home.
When I started preparing for the UPSC, the success stories all around me gave me a sense of both confidence and dread. Bouts of anxiety due to the inability to cover and understand the syllabus, jealousy over others’ success (both in the exam and otherwise), crippling self-doubt, incessant worry about the future, and the fear of ending up as a “wasted talent” took a serious toll on my mental, physical, and emotional health.
While dealing with all of this, I started working at one of the most prominent coaching institutes in the country. My office was in Rajinder Nagar, the site of the recent tragedy. It was during this time, I saw what the aspirants go through. Terrible living conditions, nearly inedible food, non-functioning infrastructure, exorbitant rents; the list goes on.
When I appeared for the exam in 2022, it was my second attempt and just like the previous one, I did not clear the preliminary rounds. But this time, I did not feel as bad. Perhaps, the fact that I was earning gave me some sense of comfort. I spent a year at this organisation before I decided to resign and focus again on my preparation.
What could go wrong? As I would find out, almost everything. Every burden and trouble I thought I had left behind, came back with a vengeance. Failure this time around almost took me to the point of no return. I soon found myself battling with depression. I was out of motivation and my savings. I questioned myself constantly: Why can’t I clear this exam? Am I not good enough? Will I ever be able to do anything in life?
Surprisingly enough, it was during this time I realised the privilege that I had. The privilege of not having to worry about failing the exam because it was my only shot; the privilege of being surrounded by understanding people. In retrospect, I believe that had I not gone through this harrowing experience, I would not have worked toward bettering myself emotionally, mentally, and physically.
As I recall those memories and experiences, I wonder what were Shreya, Tanya, and Nevin’s journeys. What were they facing? What would have been going through their mind as they entered the library? What were they thinking as they were surrounded by water in their final moments?
I can only wonder.
The writer is Assistant Developmental Editor at Rupa Publications
