Welcome to a tale that’s as much a head-scratcher as it is a heart-wrencher. Somewhere amidst the hallowed halls of Mae Fah Luang University in the picturesque province of Chiang Rai, a drama unfolded—a drama that would flit across the screen on a Monday morning, courtesy of the TV3 programme ‘Morning News’. There we met “Dr Keng”, a former lecturer and PhD scholar, transformed overnight from an academic to a protagonist in a financial thriller.
Picture this: a young dreamer, born into the rough embrace of poverty, clutching at the ladder of education with hands worn bare by ambition. It’s the kind of story we all root for—the kind where scholarships flutter down like autumn leaves from the Ministry of Higher Education and Mae Fah Luang’s beneficent boughs. It’s a testament to human resilience, isn’t it? Dr Keng, our beacon of determination, fighting odds and oceans to snag that doctoral cap in England, her tenacity undeterred even as the shadow of mental illness loomed. For 28 days, the specter of anxiety gripped her, but she—valiant as ever—prevailed.
Come 2012, she emerged victorious with PhD in hand, returning to her homeland with the kind of smile that inspires sonnets. Here was Dr Keng, joining Mae Fah Luang University not just as an alumna but as a purveyor of knowledge, a lecturer dealing in dreams and intellect.
But alas! Even the brightest day can succumb to twilight. In 2014, Dr Keng’s mind once more became a battleground for her anxiety, a foe she presumedly vanquished on foreign soil. This led to a letter—a resignation penned with a heavy heart—and, surprisingly, the university’s brisk nod to set her free. Ordinarily, we might expect a story of sickness to tug heartstrings and pass along; but in this tale, the university had written a financial chapter starting with a colossal number: 16 million baht. A number that Dr Keng, in her wildest scholarly dreams, wouldn’t have imagined scribbling next to her name on a lawsuit.
The plot thickens with Dr Keng’s appearance on TV, her predicament broadcasted for the nation to exhale a collective gasp. Should suffering be synonymous with debt? Is mental health a luxury only the affluent can afford? And where do we draw the line between contractual obligations and compassion? As Dr Keng’s plea echoed into the ether, it found its way into the digital corridors of power, reaching none other than Takorn Tantasith, the higher education committee’s chair, who snapped it from the realms of Facebook—a testament to our modern saga where justice can be sought at the click of a ‘Share’ button.
We are promised an investigation, a convening of minds on December 14, where the tale of Dr Keng will be pored over by authorities. The Minister of Higher Education herself, Supamas Isaraphakdi, extends a hand of assurance—justice, she says, will be this chapter’s byline.
As this investigation unfurls, we are left to ponder the price of scholarship, the cost of knowledge, and the worth of human understanding. Will Dr Keng’s tale receive a somber ending or will it be an epic where the academe’s humanity rises to cradle one of its own? Stay tuned, dear reader, for in this saga’s finale we hope lays not just answers, but a measure of solace for Dr Keng and all those who follow in her stead—scholars grasping at stars, hoping against hope that their reach will not prompt an unintended fall.
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