One of my dreams came true on July 31st of that year. Hyderabad Medical College accepted me. I was gradually attempting to recover from the shock of Didi's passing. I occasionally had the feeling that she was calling to me while I slept. I was a little afraid, but I did not panic easily, so even though this was a significant event in my life, I was not depressed. Shweta, who was from a very traditional Telugu household, was my first buddy in college. I realized that grief may take many different forms after meeting her. For long years, Shweta suffered from depression. She does not even know why she was depressed. Every week, she attempted suicide, but she was so terrified that she would always stop when she had to take the final step. She attempted to hang from the noose and drink rat poison occasionally. She even attempted to sever her hand's veins once, but she was stopped just in time. For her, every day was her last day. She would occasionally cry uncontrollably by herself in her room. She would frequently tell me that she wanted to cry uncontrollably but did not know why. Since she was otherwise a completely normal person, it would not be fair to call it lunacy. In fact, she was one of the most genuine and charming people I have ever encountered.
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