THE INTERVIEW(PART 1)

(Mobile phone ringing)

Hello !!

Yes maa…..

Yaa, ready to go..

Thanks maa !

Yaa, I ‘am prepared

Maa, how can I tell!!

It’s 11/250, climbing numerator is like climbing the Everest!!

Well I’am getting late now, ttyl,byee!!!

I was getting ready for the 7th interview of my selection starved career so far. After corruption I guess the most scoffy thing in India might be my resume. Although I had my decent share of good or better say gleaming moments when it comes to academics. But after graduation, the profusion of failures degraded the whole scenario. One can say that I tried way too much. Actually I was the victim of the most reputation destroying motivational line, “if you try, you may achieve success, but if you don’t, you will definitely not achieve one”. But now I realise that if I had not tried then there would be one less failure story for me to tell. I may appear very frustrated right now. But I’am not frustrated, I ‘am an “engineer”.

This time I had a bit higher expectations from this interview. This was my 7th interview, and some astrologer told my parents that 7 is my lucky number. These astrologers are the ages old family counsellors in our fate driven indian society. Well this may appear very irrational to the rational minds out there, but for a student esp. engineer in india, superstition is the best vaccine against depression. Believe it or not, you find some mystical motivation or better say hope when you feel that some supreme power is always there to help your cause. We can consider this one perk of being a theist.

My story starts way back in 2001.

KALPANIK YUGA(IMAGINATION ERA)

“Sarang initiating a sprint from the left wing availing a gap. Utkarsh trying for the challenge, but what a beautiful 360 turn by Sarang , complimenting his idol zizou(zidane), here comes the shot and it’s a goooaaaaallllllll!!!!!!!!!!, this 10th standard boy from st. peter’s is such an artist.”

I’ am Sarang Mishra. This was the final of the interschool football tournament. I scored the winning goal and our school lifted the trophy. Watching me linger on the ground was synonymous to witnessing magic, they used to say. I was a huge zizou fan. From copying his skills to even have my hair trimmed to match his, I followed him in every possible way I could. Last night , he hit that gorgeous volley into back of the net in the champions league finale granting Real Madrid with the victory, I was on cloud nine. Back then, football was my life and zizou was my god. I could spend days and nights on that football field. On that green meadow wearing a Madrid jersey, I was flawless, myself, free unstoppable, and unaware of the commotions outside. But this was the ‘kalpanika yuga’ after all.it was destined to remain as relic of my childhood in memories. the yathartha yuga was  waiting.

Yathartha yuga(reality era)

I finished my secondary education and scored decent 81% percent marks. And now came the much appalled +1 and +2 education. For a student especially those opting for science stream, transition from 10th to +1 feels like the transition of life. Our daily routine topples all of a sudden. Our teachers will scare the hell out of us by explaining the subtleness of the course. Siblings would brag about their respective +1 and +2 careers. And then you go to the tution classes and witness those fanatically strange teachers with a story of their own prolific but success less career to tell.

But amidst these rigorous and challenging circumstances, the thing that concerned me the most was that I would have to renounce my bond with football. Dad used to say, “they won’t ask you to score a goal in jee. Leave this crap and focus on your studies. “ you cannot win an argument with your father you know. Because you can never initiate one. A slightest of the hint of an initiation is potent enough to bring nightmares to your peaceful day. Talking about football as a career is like talking suicide, especially in mbbs/engineering obsessed like ours. So finally, I too took my harbour in the likes of concepts of physics, sk goyal, and other +1 and +2 version of vedas and verses. Two years went swiftly. A lot had been changed. I struggled with calculus, was really uncertain with uncertainity principle, I was frameless in rigid body dynamics and frenzied by those menacing waves and reactions. Boards came and solidifying my till then reputation as an average student, I came up with a very familiar result, 78%. The rigorous lifestyle had taken a toll on me. My shrewdness with football was lost. Meanwhile, we lost in that year’s inter school football tournament. I wasn’t allowed to participate in it, thanks to my dad.

I didn’t talk about my friends though. I must say, I enjoyed the company of one the freakiest group you will ever see. Ratnesh, my second best friend after football. Give him a six string and he will leave you spellbound. His fingers were carved to play guitar. Ambikesh, the steve wojniack of our group, was the craziest among us. He was a coding freak and he could even code one’s life, we used to say. But he knew coding and ………………coding only. Vivek, the poet, the calm, serene boy with his eyes potraying a dream. There was nothing more surreal thing in our school than vivek’s poems. We were like photons of dreams. Those were the days!!

Caution: we are in yathartha yuga , no room for passion and ardour here.

We were abandoned of our dreams by the dictators of our not so democratic life, our parents.  Ratnesh, wanted to be a rockstar. He used to mention it in our dream deluged gossips. His fantasy was to give a performance that would compel the audition to cry out of glee. Ambikesh, felt short of making it to iits due to his lack of knowledge in pcm. And our kumar vishwas vivek wanted to be a writer, but his family had different plans. Ratnesh went to delhi to pursue eng.from dce. Our wozniack took admission in city college to pursue bachelors degree in the subject his had aversion of, science. And me on the basis of marks in aieee managed a nit for myself to pursue b.tech in cs branch. So we all were wrought to follow the path prescribed by our parent who had more knowledge of life.

 

Am I missing something? How can a narration of school life be complete without mentioning your biggest crush. Yes, I too was a victim of the nature’s art. Sanhita, my classmate was the first girl I fantasised for. She induced first summit of hormonal secretions in my brain. She was the first to produce ripples of coherent beats in my heart. Did I try for her? Actually I am a Brahmin and love is a non solemnised criminal offense in brahminian condo. And I had no plans of becoming a criminal during those times. So I kept my feelings within myself and moved on.

So now came the life which can be entitled as the cusp of anyone’s life. The COLLEGE LIFE. I would call KRANTI YUGA(rebellion era).

KRANTI YUGA

Initially I was introduced to the do’s and dont’s of college life. I followed the dictum passed on by our godfathers in college, our seniors. One month and life had taken a completely different turn. There was an elusive freedom in that campus. A freedom which could be felt everywhere. As the rule of nature goes, a sense or even a crave for freedom results in rebellions. I wasn’t born to be an exception anyways. I too became a rebel, not in a socially positive sense though. I started breaking rules. I would bunk lectures and escape to movies with my other rebel friends. We would often go out for night outs. We had an army of rebels there. We strayed freely and carelessly. I even tasted the gourmet food which could have led to my exemption from my family had they known it. Yes, the revolution was at it’s peak and I was enjoying each and every moment of it.

But the problem with rebels is that they don’t usually enjoy good grades. And I wasn’t an exception like I told you. First semester results ceded me with two backlogs. So to curb the rebellion, the ultimate boss, my father took charge. The cause of the calamity was interrogated, ultimatum to change the attitude was imposed and the rebellion was over. Back to yathartha yuga friends.

So  once again, I had to indulge myself into studies to carry out the repairing work. Now, it was the time to endure thermodynamics, M2, those enigmatic c-programs, those crafty marginal utility curves and much more. I used to hate c-programming especially. My temper just kept floating in those floating point variables. I never knew that there existed such a huge crap behind these mobile phones, laptops, calculators, washing machines and all these so called digital systems. And I was never intrigued to learn that crap. It sometimes used to remind me of ambikesh. A guy like me who was novice to programming and had no interest in it was pursuing bachelors degree in computer science from such an elite institute. And on the other hand, a guy like him who was a coding freak and was expert in the field was tagged inapt to pursue the course. And then we complain about not producing extraordinary engineers. Here passion starves for opportunity.

Anyways, coming back to myself. I somehow managed decent grades in my subsequent semesters. And the repair work was over. But now was the time for the most euphoric and fervent era of one’s life. The youvan yuga(the age of rage).

YOUVAN YUGA

Out of age factor, watching so many beautiful faces around and instigated by romantic movies and songs of Bollywood, my crave for a beautiful encounter was invoked. I became mad for a girl named kavita of my batch. A girl who could stir the poet, dreamer, singer, lover and so much more in my romance starved heart. She was like a nucleus and I was like an electron revolving around her. Her eyes were the cause of commotion in my wits. Her smile incited sweet tingling in my heart. Her presence was poignant. Slowly and carefully, by exchanging notes and casual talks, I somehow managed a light bond of friendship with her. But then out teenage commotions, I divulged all my feelings before her. And without deviating from the familiar results in such cases I was gifted with the first touch of her skin on my cheeks. Yes , in the form of a tight slap. You know, there cannot be a more disgraceful incident for a boy than being slapped by a girl. And after all I am a Brahmin and that too a sharp one, like my grandfather used to say(although I still don’t know what that sharp one pointed to). But still it quailed profound respect for us in our community. Here a brahminian ego was hurt. This incident marked the beginning of “SANGHARSHA YUGA”(trepidation era).