Free The Lost Pearl (2012) by Lara Zuberi

their education interrupted suddenly because their parents did not have the means or the will to let them pursue their dreams. A large number of them were possibly so bright, they could outshine the best graduate of Stanford. I was blessed to be studying what I wanted to at one of the world’s most prestigious schools. I had worked hard to be where I was but had also been very fortunate.
    Many of my earlier courses focused on language and literature, and my assignments often involved reading and reviewing books, which had been my long-standing passion. I always tried to remember Professor Davis’s words, “When you write, make the product unforgettable. If you have had any setbacks in life, remember that they are your greatest assets. If you have sadnessinside you, write with your tears. If you have anger raging in you, use it as your weapon.”
    I loved to write but continued to dread presentations. For days beforehand, I would pray that my anxiety would not show through and that my voice would remain steady as I spoke. I always lost points on my speeches and struggled to maintain a satisfactory grade point average. I once had to give a talk on the assigned topic of “The Pleasures and Perils of Technology,” which I spent weeks preparing for. I edited it several times after the first draft and rehearsed it countless times before the day of the presentation, placing extra teabags in my mug to help me stay awake through the night. I shook as I walked toward the podium, and by the time I reached it, I forgot all the words. I looked at the paper copy I had in my hand, took a deep breath, and started,
    “Here at Stanford, we are amidst the best technological minds in the world. I believe that technology begins with an idea, which is its birth, and then advances over time with better ideas and innovations, which are not its death, but its reincarnation.”
    I struggled to continue, but my voice shook and I felt lightheaded. Suddenly my mouth became so dry that I started coughing and nearly choked. A thoughtful colleague quickly brought me a glass of water. After thanking her, I attempted to resume my speech, but time was running out, and I did not know which parts to skip and which to include in my disastrous speech.
    “…Paradox of lost communication between people by devices meant for improving communication…”
    I was stuttering and could not stop my hands from shaking uncontrollably. I suddenly lost my train of thought and stopped in the midst of a sentence, unable to find my voice. Embarrassed, I stepped down, mumbling a general apology and wondering if I would have to repeat the semester. I was tearful, miserable, and felt defeated beyond expression. My professors were of the opinion that this degree of stage fright and lack of confidencewas sure to hinder my success and suggested that I meet with a counselor. They were willing to work with me and give me some time, and I was eternally grateful for that.
    That evening I talked to my aunt, narrating to her an abridged version of my disastrous afternoon. She consoled me, as she always did, and offered encouragement. For the remainder of the evening, I curled up on my couch, trying in vain to cheer myself up with an episode of
Everybody Loves Raymond
while devouring the leftover Halloween candy from the month before.
    Despite my struggles with confidence, I soon became well integrated and adjusted in Stanford’s congenial environment. I had two good friends: Jennifer, who had been with me since middle school, and Kavita, whom I had met in college. Jennifer was a student of architecture, and Kavita was majoring in psychology. Jennifer’s parents had been divorced since we had been in school, and she had grown up without her father, who had remarried and relocated to Michigan soon after the divorce. She frequently used her good sense of humor to dilute her problems, and it often helped me put mine on the back burner as well. She had blue eyes and long, blonde hair and