Look at me, look where I’m in. Here I am at my study table, desperately fighting to keep a job, which I’m not very fond off. This is one of the strangest paradox I know of, and it’s happening to me! I’ve to score a minimal 50% and have to mug up a lots of names, numbers, dates, figures and rationales for that. I feel so old to do it & the life is so cruel to me. There was a ‘test-it’ test prior to this and I scored a whooping 33%. Now you know where I am ended to.
Now as far as my compatriots are concerned, they would come up with clichés like ,’Dude I have screwed it pretty big’. You would sigh with relief that there’s someone to share your misery in spite of the feeling of a weird déjà-vu. When the results are out the exclamation would be, ‘Dude, I managed to scrape through’. The margin of scrape through is best left to imagination. Anyways I will be left alone to contemplate my plight- the typical Mallu hypocrisy. My real issue is I would be fooled by the question paper. It gives me an impression that I would score the highest- leaving be pathetically deprived when results are out.
I’ve been like this all my life. Exam has always been a struggle. I was never of the ‘group-study’ type as crowds make me fidget. For me to by-heart is extremely painful. So I have to spend long hours working through small passages repeatedly. I always envied people who have to put only half my efforts. One such guy , from my college, used to screw all the girls he could get his hands on & pick up fights with all sundry guys. But he cleared every imaginable exam and today works with the Central Banker. Who said hard work reaps benefits.
When I closed the last exam of my college five years ago, I promised myself not to bother myself again with these. I dreamt of retiring to some sunset beach. Life had something else in store for me. I might have spent a lion’s share of my free time and money to appear for exams- MBA, Bank exams, PG exams, interviews. Next week I would appear for the Armageddon where the 50% mark is to be met or else I’m going to be booted out. I suspect the big shots have developed some sadistic pleasure in seeing poor guys sweat and fret it out.
(To be continued...)