My Valentine’s Day

One rainy day in the land of Saki, the Duchess asked Clovis to tell her a story that had enough truth in it to be interesting, but not so much as to make it tiresome. This is one such story.

I was impeccably dressed in a suit I had purchased the night before (my uncle had bullied me all the way into a Raymonds showroom, at my mother’s insistence. Its amazing how much influence she wields in my life from several hundred kilometers away). The blazer was hot and uncomfortable and I fidgeted quietly in a chair, reading the day’s paper. To add to my troubles, I was the only one suited up that day, and I was garnering strange looks from the rest of the candidates, imperfect creatures that they were, dressed merely in a shirt and tie. Or so I consoled myself.

I made the acquaintance of Red-Nose that day. He was sitting beside me, reading the Economic Times, when he turned to me with a ferociousness that startled me. Consequently, I missed his name. I murmured my own in reply, and there followed a strained silence that I did not wholly discourage, for my butterflies were acting up again. After a few moments, my companion saw fit to break the silence.

“Oil’s at forty dollars a barrel,” Red-Nose informed me intelligently.

“Ah… I see.”

“Gold’s fallen,” he shook his head dejectedly. “Bad for the rupee.”

“D’you really think they’ll ask you all this in the interview?”

Red-Nose beamed at me. “It never hurts to be prepared, is it?”

I decided that I disliked Red-Nose. I borrowed the crossword page from ET, and steadfastly refused to be drawn into conversation with him. Not that he minded, he continued to talk, casting financial pearls of wisdom before the proverbial swine.

They called us in.

*

We were seated in a circle, in an inner chamber of the Institute of Hotel Management. There was an air of expectancy all around, all that was left for us to do was hold hands and we wouldn’t have looked out of place in a séance. The two spirit mediums distributed papers and bade us to ponder over the topic for the group discussion. The door suddenly burst open and a wild-eyed girl entered, stammering out profuse apologies for being late. After some haggling, the two examiners let Wild-eye join the circle.

We had before us a summary of the first expedition to the South Pole, and the hardships they overcame and all that sort of stuff. There was apparently an Indian expedition to Antarctica in the coming month, and the leader of the expedition was desperately seeking advice from us. We were to discuss what advice to give him. As to why we were the best people to impart the aforementioned advice, the examiners did not deign to tell us.

The discussion went on like all discussions do, with longwinded arguments that were oft repeated and fairly boring overall. After five minutes, desiring to include a fresh direction, I started, “I think we should look at it from a leadership perspective…” I trailed off as someone else interrupted.

Wild-eye interrupted when the faceless person stuttered for a bit. “I think we should look at it from a leadership perspective…” she began. I stared at her in undisguised astonishment. She stared back at me shamelessly and continued on with her thoughts about leadership. I decided that I disliked Wild-eye as well, perhaps more than Red-Nose, who thankfully wasn’t in our group.

As the discussion went on, an aggressive Wild-eye interrupted people often and made herself unpopular. When she called for a consensus on the issue, everyone agreed that more discussion was needed. Petty as it was, I nonetheless shared a smile with a fellow candidate at our minor victory.

The high point of the discussion was at the very end, when someone was expounding the dangers of snow-blindness. “But that’s not a problem,” Wild-eye said confidently. She looked around, evidently pleased with the interest that the statement generated. “With all the global warming going on these days, there won’t be much snow left in Antarctica…”

What made this even worse was while some people were in a state of disbelief, others were nodding along, acknowledging her point! No doubt they were furiously berating themselves for not thinking of this earlier and thinking frantically about something to add to the global warming argument. Perhaps the examiners suspected so too, for they halted the discussion at that point.

*

We trooped outside to wait for the interview summons. I met a senior from college whom I hadn’t recognized earlier due to his haircut (he hadn’t recognized me because I was wearing my suit). As we caught up on old times, I noticed that Red-Nose had made Wild-eye’s acquaintance and they were happily discussing ITC’s market share in biscuits…

I was the first one called for the interview from my group. I stepped inside, carefully closing the door behind me and wishing the interviewers a good morning. From that point on, the details of the interview are slightly hazy. In the mists of my memory though, one thing stands visible. During the interview, I discovered that I had a voice in my head.

On hindsight, I realize this may have been a slightly worrisome thing to happen, but I didn’t really think about it then. And since then, the Presence has consequently muted itself, and I have never heard from it again. This in a way is a pity, because the Presence gave me excellent suggestions during the interview. The stranger and infinitely more ironic thing was that I did the exact things the voice told me not to…

“So why is it that you don’t want to pursue an MS degree abroad?”

Talk about how, while you like Electrical Engineering, you don’t see yourself doing it for the rest of your life, the voice suggested. And then you can talk about why you want to do an MBA instead.

“Well sir, it is difficult to get admission into the good universities in the US,” I replied. The voice voiced an expression of disgust.

The interviewer raised an eye-brow. “Despite graduating from IIT?”

“With my CPI, I won’t get admission into the best universities…” I trailed off, realizing what I was saying. Nice one, the voice glowered at me.

“Do you have a role model? Some public figure?”

I opened my mouth and closed it. “Abdul Kalam,” I invented. “His success story, from a fisherman’s son to the President of India is very inspiring. And he’s done a lot of work too, the Father of India’s nuclear programme…”

“Really?” the other interviewer drawled. “Are you sure you’re not referring to someone else?”

I did my fish imitation again. A name floated up from the murky depths of my mind. Homo Baba? Homi Baba? No definitely not Homo Baba, you fool! What was I thinking? I did not reply to his question.

“Tell me about any news item you’ve been following.”

I told them about the Indo-US nuclear deal, but unfortunately (predictably?), I was unable to give too many details. Did I have another? Well, I had something I’d followed in the newspaper every day…

Not that, the voice groaned.

I proceeded to tell them about Shilpa Shetty and the Big Brother fiasco.

And after I stumbled out shoulders drooped, I realized that I’d forgotten to give them my recommendation letters. I waited outside for five minutes, and handed it in when the interviewer opened the door. He smiled pityingly at me.

I think he genuinely felt sorry for me.

*

This is not a sad story. It is in fact, a story which strengthens one’s faith in a benevolent force up there in the heavens, smiling sunnily down at us humans scurrying forth busily here there everywhere. This is because, after a couple of months, I got a letter from IIM Bangalore informing me that if I were interested, I could join the MBA programme on June 25^th. I was, and here I am now. Miracles happen.

No, I haven’t seen Wild-eye or Red-nose around here…