A question of half-a-mark; a lesson in life

I have been planning to write this blog for a considerable amount of time now.
Procrastination is my forte, if I say, you would agree without a moment’s delay, dear reader, would you not, with that limited and largely biased view of the clogging circumstances that surround my life (yes, the fairer sex does have competition here, not receiving the attention due to them).

The reasons attributed to this state of affairs are diverse, and at times conflicting engagements which in their own individual capacities have come to be commonly recognized as a part and parcel of my persona, if I have the right to call it mine, what with the state of bombardment it has been subject to, with a much-needed invigorating bit of rest every then and now. Catching up on the Homo Sapiens’ much-professed 8-hour beauty-sleep is more of a daydream now (‘course, who has the time to dream, we all are busy completing assignments, aren’t we?).

The problem with me is that of making decisions when a sumptuous variety of debatable topics lies before me. While begging people to suggest a topic to deliver sleep-inducing reams upon the beholder, the relevance and truthfulness of a classic Hindi adage dawned upon my wretched self. For the sake of following the rules of literary uniformity, rather than for the purpose of introducing any humour in my articulate article, I decided to frame it in the colloquial language of the Americans: ‘As many mouths, so many talks’. Don’t get it? Okay, okay- hold yer stable-animals, won’t you? Simple and short. Jitne muuh, utni baatein.
One of the absolute mentionables is the fad that has caught the fancy of many in our highly remarkable batch, the four P’s. Of marketing, any normal person who has ever touched Kotler, that holy text of marketing would blurt out in her/his sleep. Put down that hand, my friend, yes, the very upper limb you subconsciously raised as if in class. We are not being graded here, though if I had my way, I would have done so without the slightest hesitation, so that this text gets maximum readership. Of course, I have discounted the fact that Kyunki… is not being included here, otherwise they would have somehow managed to manipulate the RRPs*(Guess what this means without reading the legend at the end of this passage). Pardon me for taking some more of your time here, but I would like to recall an anecdote which almost resulted in a gross violation of human rights, all because of half a mark.
Yes, aadha ank. Halber punkt.

Once upon a time, during the reign of the economics teachers, there lived a daring, courageous fellow called Khosla. Any article remotely related to marks in this era will be incomplete without the mention of this historic episode. Any mention of marks, in fact, brings to my tiny mind the memories of this former classmate I have had the pleasure of being acquainted with. To get to the point, this gent was unfortunately not one of those who would find mention in any list of academic toppers ever designed in human memory. To carry the tradition forward, once when we received, with many a groan, the marks of one of our tests on that insufferable subject, economics, which I suspect is more likely a test of patience than anything else, Khosla had, not to the wonder of many, scored an exact 1.5 out of a total of 20. There was only one inconsistency. There was, believe me, a totaling error in that legendary paper. Now, this would have not created a stir had Khosla been a meek, submissive fellow who did not know how to fight for his rights. And if there was one thing in this world that he had ever done well, it was fight. Goaded on by many of his mates, who had given him a tough time in winning the race to the lowest marks in class, he drew on his reserves of audacity and stubbornness, which he had never ever felt a scarcity for. He determinedly went up to the teacher and quote thus,

“Excuse me ma’am, but there is a counting error of half a mark in my paper.”
The teacher, looking at him through the specs balanced on her long, thin nose, gave him a ‘why-were-you-born’ look filled with pure, undiluted wrath.
“Ma’am, my total marks add up to two out of twenty.”
Now Miss Chadha, who was one of those who belonged to the school of thought that marks are secondary to the greater goal of learning, let loose a barrage of pent-up emotions upon the couldn’t-care-less gent in front of her. Ultimately, after about what seemed like an hour of discourse, she did credit him with the differential in her records register. Khosla turned to his friends with a triumphant smirk. But this uncalled-for act caught the eye of the teacher and, losing control, she snatched the paper and tore it up into symmetrical pieces in front of the vastly-amused classmates. This, however, did little to bend the enthusiasm of the beneficiary, but it must go to his credit that he managed to make a respectfully apologetic face.
Thus, everyone involved with this experience came off the better, the teacher having had the personal satisfaction of setting an example to the general benefit of the class that any repetitions would not be tolerated in the future; Khosla, who had done it again, won yet another contest of wills and in the process, caught hold of a story to be told to generations of his buddies in other batches, who were, it is regrettably mentioned, followed the adage ‘Birds of a feather…’ to the core and to generations of freshers to come, for he lived in that college to share companionship with people many years his junior. Also, the class deserves a mention over here. They enjoyed a full hour of pure mirth at the cost of their studies, a term which was already swimming in the Dead Sea of ignorance.

As for the unforgettable Mr. Khosla, he became a DJ after dropping out in his third year of college and now owns a Discotheque of his own in Delhi.

Hope this leaves a lasting impression on all of us who would do anything in pursuit of those elusive grades. Tennis is not played while keeping an eye on the scoreboard, nor is the biggest game of them all, life. Mere marks or money don’t maketh a woman/man, her/his character does.

Enough for now. I have already exhausted my quota of superlatives. Hope everyone(including me) gains from the moral of this story.


*Readership Rating Points. If you are a communications student and not guessed this by now, a plea is made to you to learn from the hero of the story. Whoz that? Mr. Khosla, of course.




Narrator: Shardul ‘Sandy’ Bist