Gulbadan

I spent two years of my life at Aitchison, deciding to set foot in its hallowed halls and on its manicured lawns for my GCE A'Levels, after having spent all my school life in measly old Beaconhouse (first Faisalabad, then Pindi, then finally Garden Town, Lahore). And I must say those were two of the most disturbing years of my life. For starters, I was almost a complete loner when I went there. I had a handful of friends, and was looked down upon by the other kids as nothing more than a half-breed, a parasite encroaching upon their grand traditions and looking to mooch off the school's prestige to get a nice thappa (stamp). For these blue-bloods, us newcomers were worthless, disposable, alien beings who have nothing better to do in their lives than to sink their noses in Physics textbooks, while they themselves enjoy life in the fast lane, driving the fancy cars (and kill passersby, and then regularly get caned by the principal for sitting behind the wheel - a story worth telling on its on), smoking those fancy joints in the toilet, and getting it on with the hot chicks from Lahore Grammar.

Ah yes, those hot chicks from Lahore Grammar, with their formal sparkling white shalwar kameezes and those dark-blue dupatta like things.

Sorry, got distracted there for a second. Yes, gaining acceptance in Aitchison is very difficult. You must either be rich, or cool, or rebellious, or beat them at their own game. (I kind of managed the last bit in my second year when I got a nice SAT score, and was suddenly being talked to by people who had never even acknowledged my existence. Funny.) But otherwise, one has no chance, and is relegated to the second tier of students who can never hope to get those yellow stripes on their ties signifying that they have joined the most upper echelon of Aitchisonian society and become a prefect (whose duties include, besides other things, making juniors bend down. Honestly.)

Of course, having gained confidence from my good SAT score, I decided to do what all Aitchisonians do, and apply to universities abroad (since naturally they consider the Pakistani ones below them). And oh my god, was that a demoralizing experience that was. Not only was I not accepted in any university I applied to (despite having stellar grades and all, mind you) but some people also say that the student counsellor sent incorrect transcripts to make sure a boy he liked (an old Aitchisonian, of course) got preference over me at these universities. And I had to suffer the sheer the indignity and shame of attending a worthless Pakistani institution (in the mind of an Aitchisonian, it is irrelevant that LUMS is considered one of the best places to study in Pakistan.)

At least one thing I enjoyed thoroughly during my stay there was the truly beautiful campus (there is nothing like it in the country, I must admit). The large fancy trees were heaven to a closet environmentalist like myself, while the old colonial-era buildings really reinforced the point that you, as a student here, are better than the average Pakistani. It's the perfect closed-up, self-sustaining, better-than-the-rest environment suited for the perfect closed-up, self-sustaining, better-than-the-rest lifestyle.

It is quite ironic that the people I used to hang out with on a regular basis during my stay there, for some reason I have not had a decent conversation with them for the past three years. While in university I regularly interact with, on extremely friendly terms, people who in Aitchison never acknowleged my presence (yes, Mosa I am talking about you :p) or mocked my non-Aitchisonian heritage (yes, Areeb I am talking about you :p). And despite my rantings against the place, I will still advise you to send your son there. There is simply no better ladder for upward social mobility in the entire country. Just make sure he joins way before A'levels. :p