Roll Number 48: A Twist of Fate

“If our roll numbers are assigned alphabetically, how come yours is 48 while mine is 47?” Swapnil from my engineering class asked.

Her name came after mine in alphabetical order, so her curiosity was understandable.

“Oh, there was a delay in my admission, so I got pushed to the end of the list,” I replied.

I gave this same explanation to anyone who asked the question, never revealing the actual reason. Yet, every time I answered or heard my name called during attendance, I silently remembered the truth—but I never spoke of it.

We all dance to an unknown music—omnisonic and celestial. We sense the mystery of life, an invisible thread connecting us to something greater, something profoundly spiritual. We hear its whispers, feel its presence, and recognize its quiet conspiracies, almost as if they guide our path, saving us time and again, offering insights for our next move. As we grow older, this truth becomes more evident.

This is the story of the peculiar way I got into engineering college—woven with coincidence, passion, faith, and fate.

In the summer of 2010, I dropped out of my BSc Physics program at St. Xavier’s and started preparing for the Indian Embassy Scholarship to study engineering at NIT in India. Back then, the Indian Embassy selected over 100 students based on an entrance examination for admission to NIT. I took the exam but failed to secure a spot. Completely dejected, frustrated, and unsure of my future, I went back home. I was no longer studying BSc Physics, and I had no idea what to do next. My parents, unfamiliar with higher education opportunities beyond what was available in the capital, couldn’t offer much guidance. They had never lived there, so they weren’t well aware of the available options.

My elder brother was in Australia at the time. When he first left for Australia, the plan was for him to bring me there after high school. But after experiencing the harsh realities of life abroad, he advised me to complete my bachelor’s degree before considering moving. Financially, going abroad wasn’t an option either—our family wasn’t well off, and my brother was still studying and struggling in Australia. In the meantime, I thought about applying to IOE (Institute of Engineering), where a few of my seniors were studying. However, IOE’s entrance exam required months of rigorous preparation, and the next one was only 1.5 months away. I spoke with my parents about it, and they encouraged me to give it a try.

“At least make an attempt. Something will work out,” they said.

I pondered over their words—something… At that moment, I realized I had no other choice. Returning to BSC was no longer an option for me.

I packed my bag—half a sack of rice, and some spices—and headed to Kathmandu. I joined PEA for entrance exam preparation. Those suckers made me pay the full amount, even though I was only going to study for a month in a three-month course. Every morning, I attended classes at PEA, and after that, I would head to Pulchowk Campus—the most prestigious engineering institute in Nepal. At first, I went there just to watch cricket. National and international matches were played there, and as a die-hard cricket fan, I couldn’t resist. But as I spent more time on campus, I started feeling something unusual—a strange mix of emotions. Looking back now, I realize it was a blend of motivation and something almost divine, a kind of blessing. I watched engineering students walking between their hostels and the main campus. Many wore old, worn-out clothes and flip-flops, yet their faces glowed with energy and excitement. Deep inside, I knew these were some of the brightest minds in the country.

One particular Day, a wave of envy, mixed with a powerful surge of motivation, ran through my veins. I had never experienced anything like it before—it was in the air, in the serene greenery of Pulchowk’s campus grounds, surrounding me like an unspoken force. Slowly, I started planting the dream of studying there. I still remember the day I spoke with a few students on campus. That day, I silently prayed to God to give me an opportunity to study there. And so, my routine continued—mornings at PEA for preparation, afternoons at Pulchowk, soaking in the atmosphere, imagining myself walking those same paths as a student.

After about a month of this ritual, the day of the entrance exam arrived. My exam center was Kathmandu Engineering College, Kalimati. I thought I would do okay in math, physics, and other subjects, but I knew my English was weak. I had always struggled with English. As expected, I did reasonably well in most subjects—except for English. Out of desperation, I tried sneaking answers from the guy sitting next to me. But later, I discovered that the exam had different question sets for students seated together. I was devastated when I realized this—I had lost all hope of getting into my dream college. But back then, my young mind didn’t dwell on it for too long. Then came the result day. Those days I used a UTL dongle for the internet—fuck that UTL (The Downfall of UTL), it barely loaded a webpage. So, I had no choice but to travel two hours to the Pulchowk Campus, where the results were posted on the walls. To give you some context, Pulchowk offered various engineering concentrations. My dream was to get into Electronics Engineering—not because I had a deep understanding of it, but simply because I thought it was cool and had more physics in it. I was a huge fan of modern physics and Feynman, so electronics seemed like the obvious choice. At the time, securing a spot in Pulchowk meant ranking within the top 336 (48 in each Computer, 3xCivil, Mechanical, Electronics, and Electrical) out of thousands of applicants. The acceptance rate was less than 3%. I needed to be within that cutoff.

But I wasn’t. I think my rank was above 350—I don’t remember exactly (probably 384?). But I was out. My dreams were crushed. That surreal feeling of faith and destiny shattered in an instant. Fate had other plans for me.

Since my rank wasn’t too far from 336, I had a good chance of securing a full scholarship at a private engineering college. I visited Advanced Engineering College and was assured that I would receive a full scholarship. I thought, This isn’t too bad—I’ll get to study Electronics Engineering for free. Not bad at all.

I coordinated with the college and got admitted. However, they had a strange rule—even though I was eligible for a full scholarship, I had to pay around 2 lakhs upfront during admission. They promised to reimburse the amount once the session started. I asked my brother for the money, he sent it, and I got enrolled. But deep down, I was still attached to the Pulchowk Campus. I could feel a fading voice within. I used to mutter, calm down buddy, we have no luck.

Later, I discovered that I still had a minor chance of getting in. If some students decided to leave before classes started, the college would publish a second list, allowing the next eligible students—based on rank—to claim the vacant spots. When I heard this, my heart raced. Fuck, man, I still have a chance, you hang in there!

From that moment on, I started checking the noticeboard every single day. One day, I saw it. There were a few vacant seats, IIRC 2, in Computer Science.

Computer Science? Do I want it? I hated it during my short stay at St.Xavier College. “Print a Pascal’s Triangle in console, Turbo C”

Fuck that—I’ll take it! It wasn’t too far off from Electronics, and more than anything, I just wanted to study at Pulchowk. I applied immediately. But applying didn’t guarantee admission. Others with better ranks could apply too, and they would have priority over me. So, after submitting my application, I prayed—honestly, I prayed. I even visited Pashupati Temple a couple of times.

Then came the wait. I constantly refreshed the university website, checking if my name was on the list. Day 1—no name. Day 2—no name. The desperation and anxiety were killing me. I still remember checking almost every hour, even on weekends. It was a mental grind for a 19-year-old, thin, underweight, migraine-ridden boy. Five days passed—Sunday to Thursday—still no update. My 500MB UTL data pack ran out. At that point, I had lost all hope. Like, literally. On Friday, I decided to go to Pulchowk Campus—primarily to watch cricket. At the time, if I am not mistaken, the Cricket Association of Nepal had organized the National Championship as a selection tournament for the upcoming ICC Division 5. I reached the ground around 9 AM and watched an entire match. I even remember talking to Basanta Regmi, Nepal’s national team right-arm spinner. He acted modestly.

On my way back, walking uphill from the field towards the main campus road, I met a guy named Kabindra Gautam??. We started talking, and I learned that he had been admitted to Pulchowk Campus for the upcoming session—either in Mechanical or Civil Engineering (I can’t recall exactly). I congratulated him and shared my story. He felt pity for me. Then, I mentioned my application to the secondary list, and that’s when the magic happened.

He asked for my name again. “Saurab,” I said.

“Oh! I think I saw your name on the secondary list in the administrative building,” he replied.

I was shocked.

“What? Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I think so. I was there earlier—one of my friends had applied for the secondary list too, so I went with him. While checking, I noticed the name ‘Saurab.’”

“Are you absolutely sure?” I asked again, my heart pounding.

“Yeah, you better go and check.”

It was Friday, around 2:30 PM.

Hope and pray, hope and pray that my name is there. I sprinted towards the administrative building, barely able to breathe. And then—I saw my name.

For the first time in my life, I cried—not out of pain, but out of pure joy and happiness. I can’t explain the feeling, but I’m sure some of you have experienced a similar emotion—that overwhelming mix of relief, gratitude, and disbelief. Wiping my tears, I rushed inside to understand the admission process.

“Hello ma’am, I am Saurab Dulal. I’ve found my name on the secondary list, and I would like to know about the admission process.”

“Oh, where have you been until now? Today is the last day for admission. Sunday, a new list will be posted, noting that the earlier list wasn’t satisfied, so other people will have a chance.”

I explained,

“I didn’t know my name was on the list, so I didn’t come earlier.”

“Alright,” she said. “Now, you have 1 hour to complete your admission and reserve your seat.”

“Okay,” I replied, trying to absorb the urgency. “What do I need to complete to reserve my seat?”

“Take this form, fill it out, and bring two passport-sized photos along with your citizenship details. More importantly, you’ll need about 75 thousand rupees.”

“What?” I said, stunned. “Where do I get 75 thousand in 1 hour? Can you please reserve the seat until Sunday morning?”

“No, I can’t, even though I wish I could,” she explained.

“I’m just administrative staff. The lists and vacancies are managed by another department, and they’re already closed for the day. So technically, it’s impossible to reserve your seat unless you do it today.”

I felt my entire world crashing down. After everything I had gone through, this was my one chance to become a student at the college I had admired for so long. I felt broken. I begged her, but there was no way she could help me.

She added, “If you can manage the money, we can sort out your documents — like your citizenship, next week. But to reserve your seat, the money is the most important thing.”

My heart was racing. I was stressed—literally, I was about to burst. I had no idea how to get such a huge amount of money in such a short time. Who could I ask for 75 thousand?

Brother? No, there’s no way I could contact him in time.

Family? No, they don’t have that kind of money, and even if they did, it would be impossible to send it from Terai to the Valley in just 1 hour.

Our brains work in strange, fascinating ways under stress, especially when hope is right there within reach but feels so far.

I sat down on the couch, trying to think—How? How can I get 75k in one hour?

And then, suddenly, an idea popped into my head. What if I go to Advance Engineering College and ask for the money I paid during my admission? Maybe I could bring it back here. Would it work? I wasn’t sure, but it was worth a try. A round trip from Pulchowk Campus to Advance College takes about 30 minutes. If I could somehow get them to give me the money within 30 minutes, I could rush back and complete my admission in time.

I rushed back to the desk and begged her,

“Could you please stay until at least 4 PM?”

She had been observing me throughout this stressful moment and felt sympathy for my situation. She agreed.

In Nepal, Friday is a half-day off, so almost all the staff were already gone.

“Okay, I’ll be here on time, by 4,” I promised her, barely able to believe I might have a chance.

I ran towards Advance Engineering College and reached in 13 minutes. I went straight up to the administrative department - third floor, explained my situation, and asked for the money I had paid for my admission. The response was blunt: “Denied.”

Everybody who makes these decisions are in a meeting, and I would have to wait until it was over.

“What?” I screamed, the second scream of the day.

“I can’t wait! I need the money now!”

There was no luck. Fifteen minutes passed with nothing but back-and-forth. I was extremely angry, but that didn’t help. I was dejected, my hope slipping away once again. I was so anxious, that I could feel my heart racing. I asked the guy,

“Where is this meeting going on?”

“Next building, second floor. But you can’t go there.”

“I can,” I said. “This is now or never for me!” I don’t care anymore. I don’t want to study at your college!

I rushed towards the other building, and that’s when I saw Prashant Sir, a teacher I had respected deeply during my coaching class at PEA. He was getting off his old bike. “Hello, Sir, I’m Saurab.” He didn’t remember me, and I understood. I explained my situation. He said, “Let me see what I can do.” Together, we went to the administrative building, 3rd floor. Since he was a board member, the administrative staff couldn’t deny his authority. He gave me the money—175,000 rupees. In that moment, tears dropped for the second time that day. But the money wasn’t exactly the full amount. I had paid 200,000 earlier.

“Why 175,000?” I asked.

The staff explained it was the campus rule—if you withdraw your application, 25,000 is deducted.

“What?” I was furious. “25,000 rupees? That’s a huge amount!”

To give you context, I had been living on 1,500 rupees a month in the valley, so 25,000 is more than an entire year’s worth of expenses. I started arguing, telling them I had never taken a class or used any resources from the college, so why should I pay that fee? The argument lasted for about five minutes. That’s when Prashant Sir intervened. “Look, Saurab, studying at Pulchowk is more important than this 25,000. I suggest you rush to the college, get your admission, and you can always come back and fight for the refund later.”

I calmed down, thought, he is right.

I took the check—but it wasn’t over. I rushed to the bank, cash it, and got the money. Thankfully, the bank was right in front of Pulchowk Engineering Campus. I got the cash and rushed to the administrative building.

And then… another twist again. There was nobody in there.

What the hell? It was 4:30 PM, and everyone had probably left since it was Friday.

All my efforts, the rush, the fight, the tension—it all seemed in vain. I couldn’t reserve my seat. I was devastated again. That’s when a thought hit me: “If something can go wrong, it will go wrong.” I don’t remember who said it back then, but it jolted through my mind. I sat down on a wooden chair in front of the administrative room, completely alone. Nobody was around. I could cry. I did. This time, the tears weren’t of joy, but of despair and loss.

A few minutes passed, and then I heard footsteps coming from the restroom. And that’s when I saw the MAM coming out. She looked at me and said,

“Hait bhai, kasto dhila garya bhanya, yetro ber lagaune ho? Ma ta jhandai niski sakya theya, dhanna aaye chau.” ( Hey brother, why are you so late, taking so much time? I was about to leave, but I’m glad you came).

It was as if the universe had conspired for me. At that moment, I thought of Paulo Coelho’s “The Alchemist”: “When you want something, all the universe conspires in helping you to achieve it.” Deposit at Advance College, The cricket match, Kabindra Gautam, the secondary list, that MAM, Prashant Sir—all of these were part of the universe’s plan to help me.

That day became the best day of my life. I was on cloud nine—ecstatic. I wish my family could have seen my face. Anyone who saw me that day must have known—I had hit the jackpot. Finally, I got admitted to Computer Science, Batch of 2010 (067). That’s why my roll number was 48, despite some being alphabetically before me.

A fork in my universe, a fork that made me get into Computer Science.