The scenes are familiar: long snaking files of young people, anxious parents in tow, waiting patiently under a scorching sun to get admission. To most of us, they are part of a faceless crowd ? or cold statistics flashed in the media when the higher secondary results come out. If we take a long hard look at the young faces in the crowd, we realize with a start that most of the faces are not those of eager entrants into an exciting phase in life; rather, they seem to belong to victims of a heartless system transiting from one grind to another.

Sometimes we are affected. We write against the system, organize seminars and workshops, and even draw up blueprints for a better system. We rarely try to find out if these efforts bring any real change in their lives.

Let us zoom in on one such face: a girl. Ankita (not her real name) couldn?t make it to the merit list in this year?s Joint Entrance Examination. The daughter of a middle-ranking executive in a private firm, she studied science in a well-known city school. She also took private coaching in three subjects. She had put in all her energy into the JEE, giving short shrift to the board exam. Not finding her name on the list was thus a great shock. No, she did not suffer a nervous breakdown. Her parents were supportive all along, but the pressure had been there.

The large sums spent on her tuition burnt a big hole in her family?s income. Also, there was the subliminal stress of being a girl. Being part of a generation out to reverse gender stereotypes, girls like Ankita often face the silent pressure to overperform. That may be why, among the suicides that routinely occur in the wake of every result, almost all are girls.

On the day Ankita?s dream of becoming an engineer was dashed, the Tamil Nadu government announced its decision to abolish the common entrance examination, the state?s version of the JEE. From now on, entry into the engineering and medical colleges in the state will be on the basis of plus two (board) results. The decision smells of political opportunism, we are told, as the entrance test there allegedly had an urban bias. But it is overtly sensitive to the plight of the students: ?It was a traumatic experience for parents and children,? said chief minister J. Jayalalithaa, ?as it ...determined at one stroke the future of the child.?

This sentiment has been echoed in other parts of the country, including West Bengal, and it was in the agenda of the Central advisory board for education that met in New Delhi on June 8. But the JEE results of the last few years shows more names from the districts. So the Left Front government is in no mood to scrap the test, or to make way for a common entrance test for all the states.

Let us come back to our story. With luck, Ankita will probably get a seat in a science course in one of the city?s 100-odd colleges. But that will not be the end of her old dream, or the beginning of another. She will take it as a stop-gap arrangement as she prepares for next year?s JEE with renewed effort. She will take more coaching, which means spending more money, and invite more pressure on herself. She will also put at risk her undergraduate education.

What if she fails the entrance test next time too? Will she be able to keep her cool? Will her family and friends remain supportive?

Let us hope she succeeds next time, or the one after that. Will her agony end then? Chances are that she might contract what is known as the ?burn-out syndrome?: a complete depletion of mental energy and focus, thanks to years of punishing preparation for the entrance test.

There are thousands like Ankita who flock college campuses every year like potential birds of passage. Many of them can never make it, and lose all sense of purpose in life. Those who do, leave behind half-empty classrooms peopled with bored drifters. But that is another story.