Being Myself ....

Sometimes, I wonder what is being ‘I’, what I am? Silly isn't it. But I don’t know the answer really. And I believe, to have a precise answer for this is utmost important. But even if I get an answer, who is going to testify and approve the sanity? So what should be done? Who can help me with my self-realization trauma? Can my family members help? Can my colleagues at the work-place help? Can my friends (I am short of this rare commodity already) help? Of-course they would love to comment and endorse strong views over me, for being judgmental comes naturally to all the human beings. People love to judge people. But … Ok, let it be, before I get diverted further, the ‘question’ here is how will I get the answer to my ‘question’? Not sure.

Theoretically speaking, who am I? A ‘software professional’ who believes in having the feet firmly stuck to the ground; who knows only one way of survival that is ‘hard work’; who personally and mutely rubbishes factors like ‘luck’, ‘fate’ etal; who hates boasting about self-achievements and absolutely loves cribbing about self-issues and problems (only superficially. Because I am seriously interested in a self-introspection here, hence trying the best to be truthful… pardon me.); who loves maintaining a low profile and concentrate more on walking the talk; who hates judging the people around and plainly ignores judgmental views (being judgmental is preposterous and barbaric, a symbol of illiteracy. Call these views ‘Taliban’ic, I would still take that … amen!! And because you did so, you are judgmental … ‘Catch-22’fied?); who occasionally is extremely low with confidence and self-esteem (so low that sometimes even the blood group changes from ‘B+’ to ‘B-‘ … funny. Cheapster PJ.); who hates getting angry, forget about a public or even private display of anger, absolutely 0 decibel levels here; who is a strong believer of the theory that the most difficult animal to be tamed is a human being – no matter what happens, a perverted mind will remain so vis-à-vis a person with beautiful thoughts will remain so; who believes that ‘piece of mind’ if traded is always cheaper at any price; who plainly loves his family and will forever – family is above everything; who is absolutely lazy and extremely introvert at times; who takes time identifying a bonding with people; who believes that every individual has something good in him or herself and one should always try to concentrate and take a cue only from those good and great qualities and ignore the shortcomings.

With all the crap jotted above, the only conclusion that I could draw is that it is inconclusive to precisely categorize and define myself. And surely, I need some ‘judgmental’ external views for refinement and reaching a conclusion … amen!!

Heart broke ... and humbled.

Heart broke … It has been more than a week and I have been writing a lot over this. I wonder if writing is just a hobby for me. It indeed is more than that – my blog is my closest friend. Almost everything I experience and feel is either on the surface or would lie buried deep into the drafted archives somewhere. Most of these details capture the joys and sorrows that touch my soul some way or the other. Reading these archives is sometimes soothing and relaxing, sometimes it is cheerful and sunshine. But then sometimes it is painful and depressing; sometimes even causing soreness and moisture to accumulate across my eyes. I guess most of my recent archives have been of the latter type keeping my handkerchief busy. Today again, it is one of those days when I am in a desperate need of some cozy, emotional support. My blog comes to my rescue.

Sometimes when you allow others to play with your self-esteem to the extreme, you tend to forget that the only possible outcome of the tryst would be a murderous painful split. This is something that I got to understand recently after a scary encounter. 

At the same time, there are instances when everything seems to be correct and perfect. Everything falling into the place; but then not to be; for some unknown reason it doesn’t. And then you get restless. 

Both of these are painful humbling experiences, but with a piece of learning. There are a lot of things which are not in our control, one of them being the human behavior. A person good at heart and straight in the thoughts might be harsh but will be adorable. Whereas another person with wittiness and malice in thoughts and deeds will never change, no matter how much affection and care one showers. The love and affection will be made a mockery of on the face and you will be stabbed regularly and continuously … till the last drop of red or till the time you will allow. Depends on how low you can get with yourself and your self-esteem. 

In my case, the self-esteem was almost killed. For, there are adversities that come alongside of being too humble. Fortunately, I pulled out of this massacre before it was too late. But just like any other mishap, there have been aftermaths. There have been a lot of attempts to defame the family, but all in vein. Besides, these acts of sheer naivety have further bolstered the sanity of our decisions. As shameless and brazen as one could get, still it is hard to get down to that level and endorse a fake malice as ‘they’ have been trying. It is utter scary and dark to actually experience in reality, the grey shades as that of the ‘soap vamps’ and ‘venomous characters’ out of the celluloid, and that too this close.

Indeed, God balances the lows and highs in one’s life - a beautiful instance of the existence of the law of averages. Just when everything seemed to be moving smoothly, this mishap popped to retain the equilibrium of life, reminding me to stay stuck to the ground. I wonder how long will it take for me to rush out of this terrible phase. 

Heart broke ... prologue

Eerie place it is, the Gurgaon Railway Station. It was another three hours to go before my train would have arrived. Completely drenched, it was the third time I was sipping the dreaded tea ... so was the rain, dreaded. I hate rains. And annoyingly, exactly at the same time, every other person I knew was not answering the phone - friends, office mates, even those who act as perfect fillers for this very kind of situation when there is a desperate urge to kill time. What was more intriguing was the thought that I would again get into that gloomy mood unless I would have got something to get distracted. Short of options, I clogged my ears with some Telegu music (from the movie called 'Dookudu'. This one is a separate story, a comical one. Some other day and time.) and triggered the lappy and rushed straight to my blogger archives.

Heart-broke ... (16th August 2011)

I cannot explain the way I am feeling right now. Its blasphemous.

Insane but interesting it is. Every other problem in life looks the biggest yet. Funny ....

Never ever in my life had I ever thought about that special being. I did not ever cared, too much concerned and pre-occupied with hypothetical educational and then career dreams forever. Then un-till it was utmost impossible task to do away with the parental pressure, I had to succumb to it. With a swollen state of mind I had to follow the procedures. Un-till it was to an extent that more than half of the year passed and an eerie feeling dwelled across me over the entire setup. I was hating the process.

Then it was Monday, 15th of August 2011. Yet another prospect to be visited. Only this time, I had a strange feeling about it. It was one of my cousin aunt who had set up this meeting. My aunt, this was not something worth a mention here but the reason I did that was a fact that she was one of the few relatives whom I could associate with bringing good omen for 'us'. (I am not fond of my relatives anyway. Yaa, I know ... pathetic.) The last time I met her was at IIT Powai - the counseling session for kiddo bro - and it was a 'triumph'ical tryst. This time again, I met her and she was smiling as ever. I greeted her, and she responded gleefully. The only difference this time was the extra special mention and attention I got. Ohh, for the love of God, I hate special attention. As we entered the place, a swarm of unfamiliar but cheerful faces awaited us. Everybody got seated and it was only then that I started feeling a little scratchy with the setup; for everybody was looking at me with a peculiar glare. Shuts, I hate special attention. Then to break the monotony of the setup, sundry talks started ranging from 'politics' to 'the harsh weather' to 'generations and their differences' and 'who's who of what and when'. ....

[The Nokia Jingle]

My phone rang. It was Varun, possibly responding to an unattended call. The efforts helped. I got distracted. So much so that I could not comprehend and recall what all I chatted with Varun. I was still thinking about what I read. Gloomy memories. I could not 'not think' about her.

Humbled … yet again. (Part-1)

The eerie feeling yet again; humbled yet again ….

While life was strolling just fine with a gorgeous career and the delicious piece of mind, something had to break the beautiful monotony and this happened. Shit happened ….

Within a short span of eight months, how much could one loose and to what extent? Unimaginable damage … humbled yet again. While I try to jot down what all I have lost, I feel ashamed and dejected. For, apart from the perishable losses, the most chronic was the mental trauma for my parents and me. I was responsible for all of it. I wish I could be forgiven for that someday … amen.

But at the same time, on the hindsight, the positive out of all this is the fact that had I have had not pulled out, this torture could have continued even further and scarily forever.

Still recovering from the shock, there are a lot of ‘things to learn’ out of the mishap. A human being can fight anything, but not wittiness. Had my manners have had allowed me to drop to the same level as that of ‘them’, I could have used the appropriate adjectives to elaborate. Humbug …. However, curbing the temptation to abuse, I rather want to concentrate on what went wrong, terribly. Of course, we (me and family) were new to this, but still it was a horrible mistake to gamble with a new relationship without quizzing 'their' backdrop. I feel rather ashamed of disowning and humiliating my inherited ethics and family values for the sake of holding on to a single relationship. Ignoring the ‘loud-mouthed’ness and brazenness, considering them as the initial jitters of a nascent relationship and thinking that everything will be fine eventually, turned out to be a slanderous mistake that I committed.

To disrespect the family, being hopelessly selfish, hijacking the agenda to a self-righteous cause, being indifferent to the cause of keeping the family ties bonded, being shamelessly witty and immaculate at backstabbing are some qualities that could not do any good to the cause of the relationship. Even with repeated hints and displeasure shown, ‘they’ could not understand that 'their' deeds were killing the relationship. Rather, it seemed that my silence and softness was taken as some kind of affirmation. Good for us, for the fact that the malice and wittiness was exposed in time.

In the true faith of God, God knows how ‘deep red’ was my commitment for the relationship. But like a leeching mite would relish flesh, 'they' dwelled onto it, leaving my heart drenched in ‘deep red’. I feel dejected to have allowed 'them' to try and part me away from my family. Foolish 'them', for nothing in this world could have made me part away from mom and dad, it’s a no brainer. Again, I took 'their' foolish attempts to be, as I mentioned previously, the initial jitters of a nascent relationship. Also, I had faith in the purity of my commitment to the relationship and was deliberately ignoring a lot of ‘issues’ just thinking that everything will be fine eventually. But, I guess it was enough to reach the breakeven and hence the dreaded end.

‘They’ killed the relationship out of 'their' wittiness and, I would rather say, brazenness. And, foolishly, have possibly not realized it yet. Or rather, 'they' do not want to admit it.

Now if I could allow myself to be that despicable (cannot contain my fury any further) and down-market as 'they' are (as 'they' have been asking for a ‘ransom’ money in lieu of refraining from faking a bad publicity), I could jot the ‘$ impact’ down to be somewhere ranging a quarter million. But I feel good for the fact that those plethora immortal things that were a token of love, would haunt 'them' and possibly if at all 'they' are human, would make 'them' feel ashamed for 'their' deeds … amen.

The utter “chronic” discomfort ....... its killing me.

The last couple of days have been terrible to say the least. I cannot think of anything else but her. I have been eating less, losing interest in surfing, rope skipping (the flashy past-time I have been flaunting over since a few months now), driving etal. All of a sudden, especially from the last few days, those memories are haunting me again. That simplicity and innocence is haunting. That aura of positive energy that surrounded her is haunting. The fact that I might be deprived of that flawless smile and persona for the rest of the lifetime is almost causing the adrenalin to freeze and choke and ‘the bodily fluids causing acute depressions’ to shoot up.

This déjà vu, I have experienced a trillion times in last few years it seems. The entities, to which I do get attached emotionally, get denied always. Be it the great educational institutions I could never be a part of, the toughest ‘tests’ I could never crack, the most relishing job profiles I could never compete for and others. The only part missing till date was that none of the entities were causing any emotional pain. Thanks however to this girl now that I am suffering this painful emotional trauma that was a miss earlier. 

I wonder if I could have done anything different that day. That day when I met her and her family, could I have expressed myself a little better? Could I have had taken extra care in discussion with her younger brother over his career; and with her father when he asked me about my career interests and goals; and with her cousin brother when he did asked suggestions over a career with engineering; and had ‘shy’ed away over her grandmother not asking anything but observing ‘I don’t know what’. Could I have had approved to her explicitly and could I have had told her, how much I …?

Alas, nothing of such sort did happened and all I had been left to deal with is ambiguity and hopeless in silence. I wonder, a plain denial would have had been a thousand times better, but that was not to be and here I am suffering with sleepless nights underway.

Amen …

The utter discomfort ....... its killing me.

I don’t know whether to feel happy or sad, but something did happen this last time with the end of the process, especially as a reject. It is not the first time that I am relishing the job at hand and an intention to avoid any aberrations that potentially falter my agenda of being married to the job faithfully. But it is just this time that I am not liking the outcome one bit (surprisingly, it did not happened immediately but with a delay). While I have been busy with the awesome opportunity at hand and am almost on the verge of relishing the first harvest of the efforts put in, this just one ‘tete-a-tete’ with this girl had really disturbed the equilibrium, shaken the momentum. And shaken enough to cause the utter discomfort and not to mention, I am not liking it one bit. I must be busy planning, dreaming and living the good times at present and near future, but just cannot because of the discomfort.

Though there wasn’t anything special with this girl, rather it was the simplicity and innocence that one could notice and ignore instantaneously as I did. But yet it was the same simplicity that beckons now and is causing the discomfort. The more I am trying to ignore, avoid and get engaged to the work, the more the increase in the discomfort.

Just wondering why at all I am writing this at ~3:00 AM nascent morning or late night soaked in the black and not sleeping post a tiring journey. Why can I not ignore that face that is flashing with simplicity and shyness and sleep sound? Why is that I am now bothered if I could have had done something to topple the outcome that day? Holy why I had to choose Information Technology as my profession and had to be deeply in love with the work? Why I could not have been a ‘Finance Guy’ or an ‘MBA Gimmick’ etal? Had the things been different then? I just wonder. But wait … why at all I want the things to be different? Am I not in love with the job anymore? Did something happen with such a magnanimous impact that I am planning to shed loyalties? What was so special about that simplicity I wonder? What was so special about that girl?

Wish me sound sleep and luck to get out of this dilemma ….. amen !!

There are certain things that are just not acceptable at a workplace .....

This post was not planned! But is an outcome of outrage. Seriously. Is there or not a limit to everything? Seriously. And yes .. so, is a limit to my cautious as well. There are certain things that are just not acceptable at a workplace, even if you go by the least professional standards (and of course we are not talking about the PSUs of India). I mean if you want to categorize unacceptable workplace behaviors into conduct-levels and go by examples in the way that follows, this the-crime-under-discussion will fall in the category of the gravest possible.

Level-1-breach-of-conduct *

Occurs every time you take the official stationary back home (remember that office notepad which is now your landline-take-a-note-pad at home or that bunch of pens that proved to be handy in the recent family-get-together-celebration-lotto game?)

Level-2-breach-of-conduct *

Occurs every time you use your desk land line phone to make calls to your friends during the office hours. Or every time when you bribe the cab driver to alter the route and drop you at some other "disclosed" location. 

Level-3-breach-of-conduct *

Occurs every time you take those prolonged sutta or coffee breaks just to discuss (or even watch the day games in the cafeteria) the cricket match India played against Sri Lanka (Having already been registered in the record books for playing the most number of matches against each other, these encounters now look like any other List A match played in the country side. I will praise them some other day.) and your communicator shows 'Away' or 'Be Right Back' status message for almost half of the working day. 

Level-4-breach-of-conduct *

Occurs every time when you submit those FAKE bills claiming for medical or leave travel allowances. Or the FAKE rent receipts with an exaggerated claim amount when you actually own the house (and in fact have tenants already paying the rent to you).

*[Please note that this segregation is not a part of some management gimmick (like say a CMMI Level x or something) but something absolutely fictional. Please feel free to suggest changes to this before I file a claim to register it as an industry standard (LxBOC Standard ... or some other fancy name). And also note that just because I have listed these different ways of mis-conduct, it does not mean that I have actually gone to the level of experimenting with all these.]

But this the-crime-under-discussion hardly falls under any of the mentioned categories. And to my understanding requires a lot of guts (informal) and innovation (formal). Now without any further annoying delay, here is what the-crime-under-discussion is, straight from the crime scene:

No no! not an overdose of marijuana. Also not a case of work killing an employee. It is what it looks like - plain simple sleeping in the office. If you are already doubting that I have faked this image (inspired by the hardworking editors (Image Editors) found at the award winning news channels) to cook up a breaking news , here are a few more untampered snaps:

(Had this had been only the case of a silent sleep and there had been no monotonous snoring chords accompanying this act and had I myself was not feeling like sleeping and thus feeling envy - my left over self esteem never allowed me to take a shot at this; I would have never have raised any voice over this.) 

Now if some of you are already wondering and analyzing all the possible permutations of how is this a possibility and what would have had happened if only I would have tried to bring this matter to light (Yes, I did that after the 'n'th occurrence of this event, where n is a sufficiently large number.): 

But nothing much happened and it turned out that public rage on issues like these is confined only to Bollywood flicks (and now a days, only to Tollywood movies) and what I got was a universal snub:

And when everybody else was least bothered with this, I was convinced that this is a case of 'mass-bribery-to-influence-the-jury'. Now even till this instant I was not in a mood to publicize this act and kept faith in the system and believed that this act will be considered as a sever behavioral misconduct in the office premise and will hamper the annual appraisal claim for the convict.  

But as the fate unfolded it did happened that the convict turned out to be the 'star performer' in the team and got a staggering 43% pay-hike (I don't know which/what calculations led to this figure) and as a reward for my misconduct and unacceptable behavior (trying to hinder the 'sleeping patterns' of the star performer), my appraisal has been kept on a halt since the last 6 months and my confirmation has been delayed till any further notice.

More than awed by how the things unfolded, I was in sheer desperation to figure out what the hell went wrong or right. One of my close (professional) friends, who, somehow felt the unrest and discomfort I was going through came to me and said: 

"The convict and our manager like the same brand of scotch, like the same brand of cigarettes and the same smoker zone, like the same bar nearby, like chicken tikka .... and you my dear friend are a non smoker, non drinker, vegetarian fool ...."

So !!!!

now I know that there are certain things that are just not acceptable at a workplace - you cant afford to be a non smoker, non drinker, vegetarian, all at the same time.

Ordinary ..... (Déjà vu)

Some day in April 2007, 02:00 AM 

‘Who …. Ohh Ani sir, yaar he is a good guy but a bit low at confidence.’

‘He is an average guy, good at programming because of Tarun sir’s influence. I have seen him working on codes, he is apprehensive and very non technical in approach – worried more about indentation, décor and nomenclature than the actual code.’

‘Ok here he comes … hi sir.’

As I got inside my room after the customary shower after the customary four hour sleep, I was surprised to see the juniors in my room in the wee hours of the morning, and then the very next instant I got the connection. Abhi was not in the hostel so they had, by the book, approached their secondary point of contact.

‘Wassup guys, so late in the night? Good boys sleep at this time.’

‘Then why are you awake?’

‘Hmm good question …. I guess we all are bad boys then.’ We all chuckled and almost forgot that others might be sleeping. It was the irritated look at Akshay’s face that made me realize that we have intruded his sound short-live sleep.

‘Ok guys, let us get into the common room, it’s not good to earn curses just before the final exams.’ It was all muted grins this time. I switched off the table lamp, latched the door and we moved to the common room.

I saw the laptop and the rickety note book in their hands. ‘No guys, no technical questions for me. I am not good at this stuff, just good at the mumbo-jumbo talks. Let’s do that, not this yaar … please I beg to you.’ I wish I had said these words, but it was too late now, we were in the common room.

‘Sir, this image compression thing is not working. Abhi sir helped us with the code yesterday but the result is not as desired. Please see what can be the issue here. ’

‘Ok let’s see.’

………………………….

03:30 AM

‘Are sir … you are a rock star. Thanks a lot for the help.’ They had a relieved look at their face. But I bet it was more relieving for me than it was for them. The hollow impression prevails – somevoice saves me yet again. I relived the past.

Someday in December 2001, at school 02:00 PM – day time.

‘Hey Ani, see this problem yaar. This multivariable equation thing is crap yaar, please help me.’ Then the conspired smile ‘The teacher praises you every other day; let’s see if you can get me through this.’

‘Shit yaar, even I am facing trouble with this stuff. It needs a lot of practice to master mathematics, why don’t you understand; I am not a magician that you come to with a celebrated tough problem and get the solution just like that.’ I never said that.

‘Hmm, let’s see.’

………………………….

02:55 PM

‘You are a rock star dude. Thanks a lot, I ll get you some more problems that are troubling me.’

It was a smile of relief on my face.

Someday in October 2008, at the company 02:00 PM after the lunch.

‘Hey jain, I have heard that you are good at quant? Yaar please help us out with this ‘distance and time’ problem man.’

‘No sir, it’s not like that. I am not that good but ….’

‘Are yaar dhek to ek baar … and besides everybody knows that you are preparing for the entrance exams.’

‘Ok sir, let me see that.’

………………………….

Next day, lunch time.

I rushed to Atif sir and pushed the solution on the desk.

‘I have solved it sir – 3 mins.’

’Well this is a good approach yaar, the mistake I committed was with the variation in the velocity of sound. It has been quite a while that I was thorough with this stuff. Thanks anyways … you are a rock star. ‘

Well yes I may be, but I doubt that. By the way, is this the way one defines the real déjà vu, I guess not. 

Ordinary .... (Excerpt)

This was my chance to erase the imprints of the infamous loss to the fragile D-Block team. The Super-six game-six overs in all; I occupied the crease with Gautam to chase down a target of 126 runs. Raju was standing on the other end, ready to deliver the first ball, the common-field all set, Vishal cheering from the stands with the monotonic ‘come-on’ cries, the make shift umpires analyzing the length and dimensions of the home, and Gautam shouting ‘shorter boundary Ani, shorter boundary.’ I recalled a situation, very similar and unpleasant, class 8th board examinations, when I had similar apprehensions and the same horrible some-voice echoed, ‘if you lose it would be humiliation yet again’.
‘Wait I am not ready to take this, I cannot accept this challenge. I just ….’ I never said those words, but the facial expressions revealed them all over. What if I fail yet again? What if … another one? No, I cannot stand the same depression, it’s just not possible, I have to win, and there is just no other alternative available. I just have to ..
As Raju took off with the familiar run up, he looked different, was it today that he was running so fast, fuming in to deliver the ball – or was he the same routine bowler, I have been facing all these years. The ball left the hand, swinging in air, landed just a bit fuller in length, a perfect half-volley, a sitter, a gift. A powerful swing of the bat, my eyes closed at the perfect imperfect time, and a miss! The sound of the stick getting uprooted, then falling head on, then toppling, and then falling again; the next thing I noticed was the disappointment at Gautam’s face. I heard the cries from Raju and Amit and with them the umpire shouting ‘Minus 5 for the loss of one wicket’.
Why me, why am I like this? Why I cannot deliver when it matters the most? Why me always? I felt like my shoulders were heavier than ever, I felt like throwing away the bat – which I doubt had transformed its chemical composition, getting heavier and heavier.
Gautam came running, ‘Forget it yaar Ani, just try and squeeze a single. I will see him through. We will manage the runs in Amit’s over.’ He grinned, probably to assure me I think, as he rushed to occupy the home at the other end.
As I saw the second ball, short of length, wide-outside off making its way and a perfectly miss-timed upper cut carved of the willow followed – straight to the insanely-square third man position, where waited the anxious pair of hands and eyes ...
…………………….
Last 10 minutes:
‘Three balls left and 23 runs required’ shouted the short square-leg umpire. Panting and sweating, Gautam came to me yet again, ‘Bro this is our last chance, just eye the 8-box, straight over Raju’s head.’
Can I hit that far? Is it possible? Do I really deserve to win? Cut the crap …
I saw Raju steaming in, and as he started running – so did I, started walking down the pitch, an attempted yorker, not to be, a low full-toss, tossed all over the bowlers head, clearing the square, coveted 8-box with perfection. ‘It’s a maxer, 8 runs!!’ shouted Vishal.
‘117/3 with 2 ducks, 15 needed for a straight win, 14 for a win by wicket count.’ The umpires announced the score.
Amit rushed to Raju to discuss the strategy for the coming two balls and rearrange the available common-field. It had to be atleast another maxer or a topple-shot to clear the opposite 8-box between the square short third man and short fine leg, almost an impossible shot to be played, but would fetch valuable 12 runs.
What will he bowl? May be another yorker, or a slower ball, as Raju started with the run-up, I was walking down the pitch. I saw the fingers rolling over the seam, a slower ball, a swing of the bat and …
…………………….
Next year, the club championship final ceremony:
As the team posed with the trophy, Gautam stood beside me and said ‘You failed me yet again.’
We both were smiling as we posed for the group photograph.

Ordinary .... (Excerpt)

Class 9th:
As I was sitting in the room waiting for ‘sir’ to come in, I could see the weary mathematics book lying on the table. Amit was sitting on the left grinning in his mischievous way as he always did – obnoxious moron. Next to him was Ajay, very calm and lost as usual. He, I wondered, did not know why he was where he was – sir came in.
‘Today we will just revise what was taught yesterday, linear equations. You will write a test.’
RS sir was an elderly figure; thick spectacles, a limping right leg, wearing a traditional semi sleeve brief and loosely tied pajamas. It seemed that he hardly shaved and if ever then not properly because I never saw him with a groomed and manicured face. The wrinkles all over the face depicted the immense experience in hand. If one believed in the visual perceptions, sir would never be judged a mathematical maestro, which he was.
‘The sum of digits of a number is one-seventh of the original number. Find the number (2 marks).
Next, find the number of integral solutions of the equation: x+y = x.y = xy (18 marks)
Solve. Remember, the cutoff is 50%’ he chuckled as he said the last sentence.
As soon as the questions were delivered, Amit, the eternal show off, pretended as if he already knew the answers. I knew that it was the second question that was the key and started working on it. Ajay was lost; he must have not even tried the first question, because he never looked like writing anything.
I was working on the 2nd problem:
x+y = x.y = xy
x+y = x.y
x – xy + y = 0
x – 2xy + y – xy = 0
(x - y)2 = xy
x – y = √xy
shitt .. I could not solve it, tried it ones again:
x.y = x.x.x.x …. y times
y = x.x.x.x …. y-1 times.
shitt … could not solve it.
‘Just 2 more minutes’ he said.
I jumped on the first question, to secure the miniscule 2 marks. As I completed the first question, rang the bell.
‘Time’s up, stop writing. Let’s see what you have done. Ajay? …. Ajay, I am talking to you.’ He almost shouted.
‘Yesss .. yes sir’
‘Show me your notebook …’ he almost snatched the notebook from his hands.
‘What …. What is this Aj ..’ he slapped the copy on the table. Ajay’s notebook had the following lines:
Solution 1:
21
………. Rest all blank.
Sir was furious, ‘What is this yaar Ajay, if you don’t want to study, then why wasting your father’s precious money. I wonder how such an intelligent man has sons like you and Nitesh. You are a disappointment not only for me but for your father as well. I have put a note here, get a signature here tomorrow, I want your father to see this.’
‘But sir, I …’
‘Shut up yaar, Amit show me what you have done.’
‘Ohh .. yes sir, I have solved the first question, the answer is 21’ he said that with such an authority as if it was one of the toughest problems ever encountered.
‘And for the second question I have been working on it and I think we will have to use differentiation and integration formulas which are beyond our syllabus, my elder brother in standard 12th has … ’
‘Are what differentiation and integration and your elder brothers, you both have disappointed me, cannot solve a simple logical question and working for NTSE’ NTSE stands for National Talent Search Examination.
‘What about you? … just tell me if you have solved the second question.’
‘No sir, I have not.’ I could see the disappointment on his face.
He declared the day as off and insisted that we work not only on conceptual but also on logical and observational skills. Later when we were walking back home, I took the notebook from Ajay’s hands; he had a dejected look on his face.
‘Are, koi naa yaar. The second problem was unsolvable and sir knows it’ said Amit as I nodded in agreement.
As I saw the note on Ajay’s notebook, he said ‘I have worked on the 2nd problem yaar, the answer is (2, 2).’
After a bit of silence, Amit chuckled, ‘This must be a joke man, how could you …. ’
‘Hey wait, the ordered pair (2, 2) satisfies the equations’ I interrupted, ‘Why you did not responded to sir in the class.’
‘He never listens. The anger was lesser on me but more on the failure of my elder brother Nitesh whom he taught and who could not get through. Tell me yaar Ani (that was my nick name), is a success in a competitive exam such an important parameter?’I was speechless.

Ordinary .... (Prologue)

Graduation is always a special, a memorable experience for people and probably the best phase of one’s life. When I was into my 12th standard, I was preparing and preparing hard for the IIT JEE examination. I must quote here that it was such a hard work that I gave up on cricket both watching and playing which, according to my mother was the best part of the preparation period. The good and the bad thing was that I had started enjoying the immense pressure and had set up such high and unrealistic benchmarks that eventually my own expectations were hard on me and I failed big time. Now the problem was that I had no alternative strategy, no planning to follow up the loss. Thus from a dedicated achiever of the past evolved a looser, an under-confident guy who knew nothing and did nothing, as if under the influence of sedatives or high on narcotic drugs. I got admitted to a B. Tech. degree graduation course in the year 2003, not by choice but because of the state of mental equivocation. To end up as software engineer was a social obligation and I opted for the same. Getting into some private institute with a hefty fee structure is not that difficult if you belong to a financially sound family. And even if you don’t, like me, education loan is a good but an expensive alternative. However, since I got admitted somewhere, parents were happy, grandparents were happier, relatives who mattered were happy and thus me, by analogy, had to be happy.
It was for the first time that I was moving away from home and the very thought of staying away was nostalgic. More so because now it was me to decide for me – right from choosing the shirt to wear to the management of expenses – which unfortunately I had never done. The loss of the cherished group of friends was also painful.