One day in the life of a PLAB aspirant

In 1997, I left the comfortable, well paid job I had, left the comfort of my homeland, my people and came to work in the UK. The first step in this direction was to pass PLAB, a qualifying test that foreign doctors need to pass if they intend to work in the UK. I soon found myself in East London, the home of PLABers from the subcontinent. Several PLAB aspirants lived there, and prepared for PLAB in 'libraries - study groups where you could meet and study with other PLABers and access 'PLAB material' - past question papers, books, left there by previous users. We lived as guests in houses, and the living conditions were bleak. The general mood there was one of desperation, and everyone looked forward to the day when they could leave East London behind. For many of us, it was our first experience of being jobless and poor.
When I thought of writing about my experiences, 'One day in the life of Ivan Denisovich', came to my mind. One day.... is a Russian classic by Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn. Uncharacteristically short for a Russian novel, it relates the events of a day in the life of a prisoner in a 'gulag' ( A punishment prison camp from Stalin's Russia). Now, I think it would be a bit harsh to equate my life in East London to that in a gulag. Maybe a combination of cold, the hardship and desperation that defined those 'libraries' reminded me of a gulag.

CUT! to ...

1997/8, winter.............................................

(A disclaimer: All names are changed. Most of the characters in this post are a synthesis of a few real ones I met)

I wake up, as I always do, at six. The first thing I feel is the cold. I quickly get out of the bed. Kannan and his friends are still asleep. I make my way downstairs into the kitchen. Our landlord is not a generous man. However, he does not stint on tea. I make some tea, and walk over to the backyard to drink it. Patrick is up, and he nods at me, cigarette in one hand, cup of tea in the other. Patrick is unique. Unlike us, he is not after PLAB. He already has a job in the UK. His days here are numbered, because his benefactor pulled the plug on him. He is trying to get to the US. I finish my tea, and shower.The water is freezing. Wrapped ineffectually against the cold, I step out of the house and the cold envelops me instantly. I grip the polythene shopping bag containing my books and writing material, and huddle into the thick jacket that my friend lent me. The streets are empty, very few people are out. I walk past rows of houses, with small pocket sized front gardens. Neat houses are interspersed with decrepit houses with boarded up windows. I step around old cardboard boxes and discarded food cartons. Plastic drink bottles lie about, quietly leaking their contents.

As always, when I turn the corner at the end of the street, I look down at the rather shabby bag in my hand, and a feeling of disbelief washes over me - what am I doing here? I allow myself a brief moment of introspection.

I walk past closed shops. Large animal carcasses hang in the shop window of the butchers. I duck to avoid the low awning. The metallic steps ring under my feet as I climb the stairs to the library. I enter walk down the darkened, long, narrow corridor leading to the small 'reading' room.

As usual, I am the first one in. It is exactly eight.

I settle down, and immediately start the first 'mock' test, answering questions from old question papers. All the questions seem familiar. That is not surprising, considering I have revised them several times. I complete my first test, it is 10:00. My fellow PLABers are trickling in. The results of the latest test are in and it is not good news. Neel has failed again. He nearly breaks down when I speak to him later in the day. It is his fourth attempt, and he is facing up to going back home. Going back home unsuccessful, is something we all dread, and most of us fear humiliation. I try to console him. I know Neel from back home - a confident doctor who did very well. It is nearly 11:00 - time for a tea break. In the kitchen, a radio plays music from the 'Titanic' movie.Back to my desk, it is time to hit the books. I go through them, revising topics that I seemed to be a bit rusty about. It is lunch time. I trudge back to the house. My host has no time for vegetarians ( he told me that). Lunch is exactly the same as yesterday (and the day before, and the dinner), but I barely notice what I am eating. I finish quickly and hurry back.

Back in the library, it is time for a study session with my group. The members of my group are waiting. Dutta talks incessantly- he has an opinion on everything. Ali is quiet today, he has a few health problems, and he does not look well. Aman is the fourth member. He is not due to appear for the exam until later in the next year. We go through more questions. It is nearly five when we break up for the day. As I gather my books and papers and start I notice Sekhar sitting on the sofa at the entrance. Sekhar is an old timer. He first came here in 1989, and returns whenever he manges to persuade his rich father in law to fund another of his trips to London. He will never pass, and he is in denial of that. For all of us, he is a constant and visible reminder of how hopeless this venture could be.

I return home to the rather predictable dinner. I revise a few more topics and prepare to turn in. Our landlord, has turned off the heating, in preparation to bed time. The bed linen smells faintly of stale meat, just like everything else in the house. The sheets are icy cold by the time I pull them on. I have survived another day, just few more months to go before I get an opportunity to appear for the test. I hope I pass.

Kannan and his friends are deep in study. They will continue till the early hours of the morning........

In Solzhenitsyn's novel, Denisovich hopes to be released at the end of his term.

I am still a prisoner of my own ambitions.

Epilogue:

Of the 40 odd in our library, three passed. Me, Dutta and Ali. Neel got through on his fifth attempt. However, he had to wait another year before he got his first job. Kannan went home after his second unsuccessful attempt, never to return again.