Good things happen to good people, bad things also happen to good people, but weird things happen to people like me, who are mostly good with being occasionally bad. Confused? Well, after all that has happened to me, even I am caught in a similar imbroglio. Even I am not able to decide, why, of all the people, all this has to happen to me? I think I have aroused a lot of curiosity as to what has actually happened to me. (Mission accomplished! If you are not confused, read above lines a hundred times and convince yourself that you are confused, even if you are not, before starting the next section). Let me get to the details now.
I had my interview for admission into MBA on the on which day all this happened. The night before I had neatly pressed my trousers, my tie and the shoes were ready. My shirt was to be pressed by a local laundry person and he had promised an early morning delivery. I was pleased with my preparation. I did some spiritual reading on the internet before I went to bed that night in the company guest house in Mumbai. Early morning, I was awoken by a loud thumping on my door. I got up and checked the alarm clock by my side; it was 6:00 in the morning, I had still half an hour more to sleep according to my plan. Lazily, I dragged myself to the door only to find the laundry person smiling, stretching his lips so wide that my cheeks ached. I took the shirt and sleepily put it along with my other interview stuff and went off to sleep.
A loud shrill propelled me out of my bed like a ball bouncing off the ground. I quickly tried to suffocate the alarm clock but my hands were fumbling all over it to find the correct switch. I heaved a huge sigh once it was put off. I smiled to myself generously to congratulate myself for the great achievement. I had a quick shower, put on the neatly pressed clothes and my shoes. I was ready by 7:00. I was supposed to reach the venue by 8:00. All was going according to the plan. I looked at myself in the mirror, turned left, turned right and then center. Everything was perfect.
I reached the local station at 7: 10, took the fast local to Andheri and reached the venue at exactly 7:50 with ten minutes to spare. I went inside and found many other people waiting to be called in. At 8:00 sharp, we were called in. Our names were called one by one and we were divided into groups of 12 for the group discussion. When my name was called, I went and joined my group which was followed by a lot of (twelve, to be precise) hellos-best of lucks-let’s rock the GDs. We were asked to keep pen and paper handy, that’s when I realized that my pen was in my bag and not in my pocket.
I took out the pen and placed it in my pocket. Somebody tapped my shoulder; I turned around to see a fellow from my group handing over a pen which looked so much like my pen which I had just put in my pocket. I looked harder and was surprised to see that it was my pen. I thanked him and put it back in my pocket. I felt a tickle run down on the left side of my tummy and something landing on the floor near my neatly polished shoes. I bent down to see my pen lying down helplessly. I looked down my left breast pocket. I widened my eyes through my spectacles which were probably looking like marbles popping out of a magnifying glass. There was a huge slit underneath the breast pocket which I probably was not able to see in the mirror because my hand was covering it.
I quickly rushed to the wash room. I stood in front of the mirror and raised my left hand straight over my head to have a proper look at the newly constructed ventilator on my shirt. It was more than just a slit, it was a huge hole! It did not take much time for me to realize who had done this. I could now properly recall the laundry guy’s face and his I-did-it-but-you-dint-see-it smile. I was furious. I wanted to strangle that fellow’s neck using his own elongated smile. This was my last chance of getting into a decent B-School. I had screwed up all other GDs or interviews or both. I was well equipped this time with adequate preparation. I looked at the frowning reflection of my face. It was looking funny actually; I never had seen myself so thoroughly frustrated.
I started thinking of the alternatives. All I could come up with was going out and buying a new shirt. Yes, that was the only way out. I clumsily washed my face and dried it with the paper napkins and literally ran out of the washroom. People were staring at me as if they had never seen a human before. I ignored the stares and went towards my batch all of whom were waiting outside the interview room. I learnt from them that the group discussion was to begin in 5 minutes. My heart skipped a beat. There was no way I could go out and come back with a new shirt in five minutes. I decided to stay back and manage the discussion like how I had managed to admire myself in the mirror that morning.
Five minutes passed. No one came out of the room to call us in. One of the restless fellow participants went in only to be sent out and was asked to come in after five more minutes. Another five minutes passed. No communication from the people inside the room. I was getting curious, had they gone asleep? I could have bet on 10 minutes to get a new shirt. It was Andheri after all and I could have easily found a street vendor even at this early hour. Another five minutes passed. Still there was no sign of anything taking place! The people inside were supposed to be mentoring us in future for management studies, I hoped they would take a quick course on time management. Fifteen minutes were definitely more than adequate to buy a shirt in Mumbai. This was getting on my nerves now. I could bear it no more. I stood up so violently that I heard a crack from beneath me. I bent down to see that the left side of my trouser, from the knee to just above the shoe, was ripped apart by a confident looking nail which was protruding out of the chair as if to check out the outer weather. As I looked at the culprit, the evil nail, it shone as the sun rays from the window fell on to it and gleamed proudly at me.
I was doomed. I sat down on the unfortunate chair and cupped my hands around my head. I was more disappointed with my misfortune than angry at everything around me. At this very instant, a professor came out of the interview room, apologized for the delay, gave us the first lessons on patience and called us in. I reluctantly got up from my seat and assured myself that nothing worse can happen to me. I told myself that I should leave everything to fate and prayed to god that the professors don’t notice the discrepancy in my attire.
I was the sixth person among the group of twelve. On other occasions, I couldn’t have been happier for being allotted a number which will put me in focus in the group discussion, putting me right in the center of the group. But today, when I wanted to be as inconspicuous as possible, I was thrown right in the center of the group. The assurance that I given to myself a few minutes ago faded away completely and I realized that worse times are ahead.
We went in and I sat in the center. The hole under my arm, I could cover somehow but what will I do about the trouser rip? This was the only thing running in my mind, even when the topic was announced and others started jotting down points. I entwined my left leg around the leg of the chair and put my arm at such an angle such that I covered the shirt-hole. If anyone would have looked at me adjusting like that, they would have definitely concluded that I was either a retard or a cripple. The discussion began. I somehow managed to say a couple of points and thankfully, those points were taken well by the group. This, in spite of my awkward sitting position.
We were asked to conclude the GD. I raised my left hand to make a point and that’s when I realized what I had just done. People on the left side of the group first were left agape and then I saw the twinkle in their eyes, the silent laughter. I had become a joke which all of them would go home, to their friends, narrate and have a hearty laugh. I quickly lowered my arm and continued talking. The GD finally came to an end after a long 15 minutes which were no less than eternity for me. “Now you may go out and wait for your turn of the interview. Each of you will be called number wise, starting with number 1. You may come inside after five minutes. Thank you”, the professor announced.
The famous five minutes, I thought, as we were coming out of the room. I was thinking of various alternatives for managing the interview. I escaped the group discussion somehow but in interview everything would be noticed. I have to act fast. I heard a few giggles from the corner. I forest fire was spreading. The girl sitting beside me was giggling with her friends mocking at me, raising her right arm. I felt like correcting her, it is not the right arm Madam, it is the left arm, but rightfully decided against it. I had already made enough fool of myself.
The fellow participant, numbered one, was called in for the interview. They had finally learnt that each minute has only sixty seconds; I mused and tried to amuse myself but I was too worried to even smile. He came out after 10 minutes. Everybody flocked around him to ask him the questions that were asked. He answered patiently and left. I immediately got an idea. I prayed to god that this idea would work out and He come and help me out with the implementation of this idea. Even otherwise, any person who would have helped me would be no less than God himself to me. I followed “number-one” and called him from behind. He turned around and waited. I ran up to him and made a weird request. He smiled first; I was sure that actually wanted to laugh, then apologized and said that he has to go for work and cannot stay back any longer. That’s a polite way of denial, I thought. I was dejected. There was some hope which seemed to be dying out too.
I decided not to give up. The second person came out and I made the same weird request to him too. He too declined. Three more rays of hope, I counted. I was eagerly waiting for the third person to come out. The third person was a girl. I had not thought of this possibility, just two rays of hope had left now. The next person, Number-four, took extremely less time to come out and surprisingly no one flocked towards him to ask any questions. They probably considered that he might not have performed well and that his feedback wouldn’t be useful. He was of the same height and build as me, I noticed. I had to make the kill now.
I approached him and talked to him very carefully “Look mate, I don’t want to embarrass you or anything but I am currently in deep trouble. I have to make this weird request to you and you are my only source of hope as the next person to be called in for the interview is I. I want you to lend me your shirt and trouser for the time this interview lasts. We could go to the washroom and change, exchange would be a better word, our clothes. I will return them as soon as I finish my interview. We have to be quick as I have just another five minutes left. Will you help me? Please don’t say No!”
He dint smile or suppress a laugh, as others had. He plainly agreed. I was more than elated. I thanked him profusely and we almost ran into the washroom. We changed and I asked him to wait outside the interview room. He said he preferred not coming out of the washroom in the torn shirt and trousers, and asked me to return to the washroom when I was done. I grinned, completely having understood his situation; I thanked him again and ran towards the interview room.
As I was approaching the interview room, I saw that a person was flocked by many fellow participants, the usual feedback session. I over heard them saying “Your interview lasted for the longest time. I am sure you will be through”. I peeped through the flock to check who the person they were talking to was, so that I knew whether it was my turn. I was stunned and dumbfounded. It was the same person who I had just exchanged clothes with, Number-Four. I ran back towards the washroom but found no one inside there. I searched in the corridor but he was to be seen nowhere. He had disappeared.
“There comes a time in facing a challenge when we have done all that we can, and still the situation remains unresolved. This is the time to turn the problem over and release our cares into His hands. When we let the Him take charge, anything becomes possible. He can do for us what we could not do for ourselves. Do your best and leave to God the rest” I was trying to recollect the rest of the text which I had read on the internet the previous night. I heard someone call out for me. “Number-Six, this is the last time I am calling the candidate for the interview else we will have to move on to Number-Seven....”
