“O by the way, [Uzer], you also have to write an article about third year.” “…I’m sorry? Excuse me?” “I’m sorry [Uzer], you have no choice. No questions asked, I’m afraid…”

A very persuasive argument I must say, but Zaraq’s words go beyond simple argumentation. They serve to highlight a very pervasive concept in AKU’s environment today. “No questions asked.” “You shall all study like dogs… You shall all fail in Pharmacology… you shall all be witness to a façade appearing to show how much we care about you all passing, etc. but you all shall still fail. And no questions shall be asked.”

I remember when I first came to AKU, a lecture was given by a lady about academic life in AKU. I don’t remember much of it at all (another very pervasive concept), but the few words that do stick in my mind are, “In AKU you need just 55% to pass… PLEASE at least get this much!” Oh how we all laughed in our blissfully arrogant ignorance. Little did we know that a medical student is to pass third year as well. Little did we know that in our much-loved third year we would be answering MCQs that could be passed off as anagrams… each worth 10%, give or take. Little did we know that our exams would come, and keep on coming more often than Pakistan’s Prime Ministers. Oh how very ignorant we were. It is too ‘fond’ a memory lest we forget that in our ever so recent CAT II, I, thank Allah, achieved the aforementioned percentage in an equally lovable subject of ours. Seeing me thereafter, would have lead the less well-informed to believe I had achieved honors…

One is inclined to ask, what brought about such a sad state of affairs. Where was the wrong turn taken to land us in this abandoned alley of life? How could such intellectually satisfied, and culturally stratified individuals go so wrong? It’s because they asked questions. “Bhai jaan, tell me something about third year.” “Oh thand hai jee, chill karain.” And in my naivete I actually believed them. They said it’d be fun. That I’d enjoy the learning. That medicine didn’t get better. That the lectures would actually be worth attending. God Almighty! The lectures would actually be worth attending! But I see know. I had been no more than another victim to the sadistic nature of our seniors’ sarcasm. Yet, another pervasive concept.

The very least that could happen to a normal, average third-year medical student in such a situation would be that he goes insane. Psycho. Stark-raving mad. Of the type that sit and rot in a corner, endlessly mumbling to themselves. But thankfully, us 05ers are made of sterner stuff. We find sanity in places one would least expect. Take the male hostel for example. It is no coincidence that third year is the year that the class of 2005 male hostellites upped the number of PCs owned to record numbers. All the past years of vented anger can now finally be released in an ensemble of blazing rockets and ricocheting bullets leaving behind trails of exploded heaps of indiscernible red gore and the innards of lesser men. No coincidence, therefore, that just a few days before the CVS/Respo CAT a considerable session of the lovable Counter-Strike took place among our restless souls, dragging us into the wee hours of the morning. Sanity in insanity. Such is the logic of our life.

But as much as this doom and gloom scenario may serve to disenchant independent observers, our beloved third year isn’t all as such. No doubt, clinics do serve their purpose well as an introduction for the naïve medical student to the gray reality of the medical profession and the suffering patients whom it claims to serve. My experience with the meningococcemic patient who had just lost the distal end of one of his gangrenous toes (just ‘the tip’ would be an understatement) because it “just fell off” resulting in blatant exposure of bone would serve to highlight this. And him being my first patient, ever.

Nor does this scenario, expose the fact that third year contains what is arguably the best celebration one has as a student at AKU: the T½. From the Masquerade and scavenger hunt to the T½ Icon and T-shirts, most students would consider this extended party as among their most cherished memories of medical college.

Indeed, third year is the year that will either make you or break you. It is the year that separates the men from the boys and the women from the girls. It is the year in which you eat X-rays for breakfast, ECGs for lunch, ABGs for dinner and a healthy serving of Robbin’s for dessert. It is the year in which you’re called ‘doctor’ for the first time ever. And we’re half-way through already.