AIPMT – The Entrance Exam Extravaganza

May 4^th marked an important (read : career deciding, life ruining etc etc) day for medical aspirants (me too!) nationwide. While being Star Wars day, it also played host to the All India Pre-Medical Test, an exam which enables one to get into premier (or so they say) Govt. and private medical institutions (or institutes) across the country.  

It was quite the festival for smart people; I was sharing my exam centre with around five to six THOUSAND students, most fresh out of school and raring to go forth to decide their lives. No amount of man power is enough to successfully discipline so many young adults, and quite surely, mayhem ensued even prior to our entry into the exam hall. The girls outnumbered the guys three to one; I really don’t see where the problem with the sex ratio is.  

What is a day in India without a strike or a dharna called? Incomplete. But not the 4^th of May. Mid-way through our exam, our ears were met with the sounds of loud hollering and general chaos. The purpose of the demonstration is something only Morgan Freeman knows, but the vociferous chanting soon fizzled out and died, akin to the rains in B’lore, leaving us to write our exams in relative peace.

An entrance exam in India is a family affair, extending to joint families even, with grandpas tottering around with walking sticks a fairly uncommon sight. Some turned it into a family outing, with my uncle alleging that he definitely saw some picnic mats and elaborate luncheons. Groceries and local eateries, in and around the centre, probably had the best business day of the year. The auto-drivers had a field day as well, charging outrageous amounts to anxious parents pleading with the gods of the traffic jams and such for safe passage.

An entrance exam affords one an opportunity to observe at close quarters the various kinds of students that comprise your competition and your peer group through college life.  The following forms a comprehensive list as to the type of students I found at the AIPMT, and which I believe applies to most other exams :

       

      1. The Freaks and the Geeks aka Sherlock and the Rainman : 

      The former lot are like Sherlock, freaks of nature capable of solving most problems with no apparent effort,    their brain cells making impossible connections to arrive at the answer. The latter like the Rainman, have prodigious memories and/or are hard workers, committing vast amounts of information to their cranial data banks. These students are the ones, who walk in and out the exam hall, with smiles on their faces, knowing fully well that it’s their names that are going to be in the newspaper.

          2. The Starks of Entrancehell :

This is where the junta (me too!) resides. The students with above-average intellect and moderate preparation who fervently hope that what they haven’t studied won’t be tested. They can be found tucked away in quiet places, notes in hands, feverishly invoking the old gods and the new. While some of the Starks might survive, most of them will perish at the Red Wedding.

       3.The Rahul Gandhis :

Why are they writing the entrance exams? Because Mummy(or Daddy) said so. These are students who want to do journalism or arts, but whose parents want them to do a basic degree first. They are characterized by their sullen expressions, and a singular response to most questions, which may or may not be ‘Women Empowerment’.

      4. The John Watsons :

These students have already been accepted into universities abroad or at home, but are writing the exams because their friends are doing it. Moderately intelligent and loyal to a fault, they’ll be the ones with confused expressions on their faces, as they watch their friends (who may be Sherlocks) discuss theories they’ve never heard of.

All in all, writing an entrance exam in India is an unforgettable experience, one that you’ll cherish or curse to doom’s day. It’s also the place to be, if you’re looking to meet smart young adults your own age (wink wink). I’d better get back to studying (read : watching  TV shows) for my next entrance now , lest I turn into the unfortunate Rob Stark. I wish my fellow aspirants the very best of luck, and pray that they score less than I do. Just kidding. Maybe.

Take heed and bear witness - Ishwar Pandey

I seem to have underestimated the reach of my blog, because Captain Cool MSD seems to have taken heed of my fair warning and replaced Nehra straight away, leading to a mammoth 94 run win. The fact that Dwayne Bravo sustained an injury might have helped along the decision making process, but let us not lose the big picture among the details.

Humour aside, three words made the win look so easy today : Quality Pace Bowling. Taking quick wickets up front is vital in the smallest format of the game, and Ishwar Pandey, inexperienced as he might seem, delivered to perfection. It might have been beginners' luck or the DD batsmen were in the mood for a bout of catching practice (and thank god we held on to them), but only time and few more outings for the CSK will reveal the depth of his talent.

With Dwayne Bravo out of the picture, Ben Hilfenhaus was handed the baton, and I felt he was right to play second fiddle to Pandey, keeping the pressure on the batsmen and swinging the ball both ways. An economy of 4.50 in an IPL match is most definitely one to be proud of, and with a more or less guaranteed place in the side, we can expect consistent performances from the strapping Aussie.

The testimony to the rise in the class of pace bowling is the fact that MSD didn't feel the need to hand the ball to the spinners until late into the innings. The spinners just bowled 4 and half overs among them, though picking up four wickets in the process, which bucked the CSKian trend of spin spearheading the attack, as I mentioned in my previous post. This certainly bodes well for the Chennai Super Kings, who can now depend on their strike bowlers to deliver the early breakthroughs.

Ravichandran Ashwin is always a delight to watch, with his arsenal of variations and deceptions. It was quite a lovely delivery that bowled Dinesh Karthik over, which just goes to show the constancy with which Ashwin delivers. There are no words for a man who is announced to the crease as SIR Ravindra Jadeja, but that this man has delivered time and again, for both CSK and India, with both bat and ball, and there can be no replacing him.

Lastly and most importantly, this match gave us a chance to fully understand the depth of our batting line up. As my favorite commentator, Danny Morrison said,"It's all quite well for a bowler to get McCullum and Smith out, but with the likes of Raina, Faf and MSD to come in, he's got his work quite cut out." Truer words have never been spoken. When five of your batsmen have strike rates nudging 200, I think it's safe to say that batting is the least of your concerns.

This CSK win was a complete all-round victory for the side and there is only one way to go from here and that is up. Watch out for the exciting new talent that is Ishwar Pandey and some bigger wins from the Men in Yellow. Until next time, #WhistlePodu!

11 + Nehra : CSK's IPL Conundrum

The Indian Premier League (IPL) has returned to much scepticism as to whether cricket's Superbowl will retain it's massive fan following after having it's dirty laundry aired in public. Let all such doubts perish because after three matches, it has become certain that cricket's prodigal son is back with a bang. Being a ardent fan of a team that has reached the knockout stages in every single edition of the IPL, not to mention has won the coveted trophy twice, is a matter of great pride. But post today's loss to the Kings XI Punjab, who played brilliantly, a certain doubt that arose in my mind after the IPL auction was confirmed. 

CSK’s bowling has taken a hit and the initial prognosis doesn’t look good.

(Backstory rant : CSK shocked it’s fan base when it brought in ageing fast bowler Ashish Nehra, which raised questions about the mental sanctity of the bidders. The justification for this move was the bags of international experience (GHANTA!) Nehra brings with him, which includes bowling full tosses to a well set batsman in the final over of the innings (That worked once against Pakistan, mate). CSK’s official website describes Nehra as a “fast bowler with pace, accuracy and the ability to enforce subtle variations in line and length” which couldn’t be further from the truth. On a good day, Nehra clocks 135 km/hr and leaks runs at around 8 an over. Hardly a T20 stalwart. Nehra is absolute rubbish with the bat and we witnessed a fine example of his fielding prowess with that spectacular dropped catch off Maxwell.)

                                                CSK’s *ahem* acclaimed *ahem* bowling unit

Ian Bishop made a comment during today’s match which hit squarely home, “CSK’s bowling attack is headed by the likes of Ashwin and Jadeja, backed up by Nehra and Sharma.” When your spinners are touted to be spearheading your bowling attack, Houston, we have a problem. Observing the above picture, you might wonder, why doesn’t CSK simply replace Nehra with Hilfenhaus? Seems an easy enough thing to do.

Compounding CSK’s bowling woes is IPL’s four overseas player cap, which in today’s case, was utilised to field McCullum, Smith, Bravo and Faf. Now, you see Chennai’s conundrum. With their fine display of explosive hitting, replacing McCullum and Smith at the top of the order is out of question. Bravo has proven himself to be adept at accelerating at ease as well as chipping in with some handy pace bowling. The question that now remains is whether to risk replacing Faf, and break the successful CSKian trend of batting deep, or placing your trust in the likes of Nehra and Sharma to be able to successfully defend par totals. (NOT!)

If their struggle to defend a massive total of 205, is anything to go by, the latter option seems to fly out the proverbial window. But knowing Dhoni, and his extremes of conservatism and faith in struggling players (aka Yuvraj), CSK might just be heading for a first round exit, courtesy Nehra.

Well, man lives to hope, and an injured lion is your worst enemy. Let us hope that Nehra can reproduce his dream run of 2003, where full tosses were rewarded with catches and Kenya reached the Semi-finals. (LOL). Until then, #whistlepodu!

A 'Zara-hatke' Love Story.

He was devastated. She was but a few feet away, hanging precariously from a ledge, while he could do nothing about it. Or so he thought..

Their family had always been there for him. Right from the very beginning. Cleaning up after him, wiping away his tears, so on and so forth. He couldn’t have asked for much more. As he grew older, they became a shoulder to cry on, a companion in his loneliness and a source of warmth in the cold.

But this ‘family’, if you’d call them that, seemed to age differently, a lot faster than human years, and he lost many close companions, before he’d even turned five! Having any emotional attachment to them was folly, but they were so close to him all through the years, that this was nigh impossible.

Then ‘SHE’ came. ‘SHE’ was different. A ray of sunlight at the end of a long winter, heat in the midst of freezing cold. As soon as he had set his eyes on her, there had been a connection. A deep seated attachment, which would soon become much more. Always decked in blue with red polka dots, ‘SHE’ became an intergral part of his life, someone to share his joys and sorrows.

He knew that getting attached was a mistake. ‘SHE’ would soon be gone. But well, the forbidden nature of this romance, was the spark to his fire. All had gone well, until… he moved house. This had been very recent, and SHE’D obviously come with him, but the move had driven them apart. ‘SHE’ had become distant, an outsider. Thus began the problems, which brings us to the present…

He was scantily clad, down to his boxers, hot water dripping from his body. They were in a relatively dark room, a single bulb providing illumination. He looked up to see her swaying gently in a light breeze. ‘SHE’ was on the verge of slipping over the edge, and if she did, that would mean definite end. Separating them, was a three foot expanse of cold, slippery, TREACHEROUS terrain.

He stood at the threshold, a single foot dangling in the air.. Bringing it down with a sense of finality, he braced himself for the cold. It surged through him like a current, arching his back. He almost turned back to the warmth, but the thought of her drove him on. He took  step after step, shivering his teeth away in the process, while she continued to sway precariously. His arms outstretched, he could almost feel her in his arms.

Just when he thought it was all over, ‘SHE’ began to fall. Gracefully, almost floating to the ground. In a mad rush, he slipped and slid over the last foot of the ice cold ground, as she fell and fell quickly. It was an almost certain end. With a burst of speed that could only have been a lovers’, he caught her, just an inch above the ground. *WHEW* He clutched her close to his chest, feeling the warmth spread through him. A joyous reunion, and she would have cried if she could. Holding her close around him, he opened the door to a gust of wind, thankful for her warmth. He smiled and stepped out..

15 minutes later.

He lay on his bed, fully clothed and warm, his blue and red ‘TOWEL’ lying next to him. He made a mental note to ask the carpenter to install a rack closer to his bathtub. It had been so much better in the old house, a rung closeby, ‘TOWEL’ within reach. These everyday shenanigans in the cold were going to kill him. And oh most importantly, as he crinkled his nose, he realized his favourite ‘TOWEL’ needed a wash.

Planned to success.

21:30 PM

The protagonist stood, his head bowed, his feet beating a steady rhythm to the tune thumping in his ears. The cord of his iPod snaked down into his back pocket, his face emotionless as a million things  raged through his mind. His thoughts turned to previous failed missions, as butterflies fluttered incessantly in his stomach. The Boss wouldn’t be so forgiving this time around, well, sometimes the Boss made the slender-man seem like a homely guy. The Boss was definitely not someone to cross. This time was different, he would redeem himself, because today he had a plan.

 Standing amidst a throng of non-descript, bordering on boring, people, he felt the strong common purpose, underlying in their emotions. He stood under a cavernous roof, the air-conditioning insufficient as droves of people continued to pour down the narrow staircases. If front of him lay an enormous blackness, stretching infinitely to both sides, as far his vision allowed. The air was thick with worry, as people anxiously looked at their watches.  Our teen protagonist could do nothing but bide his time….

21:35 PM

And then suddenly, the air was electric with excitement. He could feel it right down to his bones. This was it. The time had come. He heard a distant voice replaying a message, but his mind was busy going through his plan. A plan which could mean the end of a hundred careers, friendships and in some cases, even lives. But he was desperate, he had go through with this. His life hung in the balance. His face was still a mask, betraying not a hint of emotion, as his feet beat a faster rhythm in anticipation of what was to be.

21:40 PM

The tunnel in front of him burst into light, as a deep grating sound was heard, and a sleek monster of a machine came into view. People glanced at each other with smiles of sheer happiness, as the deadline was upon them. As the magnificent beast screeched to a halt in front of them, the crowd moved as one towards it, crushing all those unwary. But our protagonist, with the practiced ease of a pro, was already moving toward one of the many openings running along the side of the machine. He surged on relentlessly, knowing that the slightest delay could prove fatal. Knocking over a veteran, clearly worn out by some infinite such missions, he paused just enough to give her an apologetic smile, she was unfortunately, one of the many casualties in this mission.

As the end seemed near, a huge shape filled his view. He deftly sidestepped, preventing himself from being run-over by an enormous woman with a pram. Her large pram blocked his only means of passage, and well the flashing, warning orange lights, only compounded his problems. Vaulting over small babies was definitely, not part of his job description. But desperate times called for desperate measures. As the woman’s eyes widened with unmitigated surprise, he sailed over the small blond child, landing with a thump on his brand new Converse.  He turned around, bending down to give the child, the sweetest of smiles. Brushing down his shirt, he squeezed in through the narrowing gap between the closing doors.

21:43 PM

He sat back on the blue and white upholstery, glancing around at his fellow victors. The protagonist was surprised to see the old woman, aka the veteran, smiling at him from the corner, well, experience does count. As his watch ticked away the seconds, he looked down to see the time was only 21:45 PM. The Boss was going to be pleased. Now his mom was definitely not going to kill him for coming late. His plan had been a success. As he rested his head on the darkened window of the Dubai Metro, he watched as the city flashed by, bringing him closer to home.

The Ultimate Prize

There he sat, with twenty others just like him, waiting… Waiting to begin what would be his first and hopefully last quest for the ultimate prize. Squatting on his haunches, he checked whether the Object of Requirement was secure in his pocket of his extremely uncomfortable attire. This was essential to his attaining his goal. He kept his breathing measured knowing not to allow the gravity of the situation overwhelm him. And he waited… Oblivious to all else about him. Waiting… for the signal.

And then in the distance could be heard the shrill toll of the signal. This was it. Like Olympic athletes, they burst out of the blocks as one, dashing out into the wide space. Our protagonist was fortunately the ones out front or else he would have been crushed to smithereens. He knew he had to be quick, for the ones that had escaped weren’t far behind. He quickly looked around, weighing his options, as he spotted the only and quickest way out. For out there was the prize. The ultimate glory.

He raced through the roofed corridor, for corridor it had now become.  He squeezed into the narrow opening as from the corner of his eyes, he saw challengers fall, many his dear friends. But now was not the time to mourn losses.  For he had now arrived at or should I say ran headlong into the first obstacle: The Stairs.

Now rushing madly down the stairs is never a very good idea and here he had done just that. He mentally kicked himself for not counting in so trivial, yet so crucial, a matter. He struggled to maintain his balance on the steep slopes of … not death … probably serious and life crippling injury, thankful for all the training he had received.  A sideways glance revealed the fact that his competitors were not lagging far behind but just far enough. This was turning out to be too easy.

All this was obviously before he encountered the second speed breaker, bigger than most, but it, rather she, did the job. He had just come face to face with the Enforcer. There she stood with her usual long, thin, razor sharp sword. He tried put on the brakes but his forward momentum took him just a tad too close. Not one for mercy, she lunged at him with the deadly weapon… just as he danced out of her reach. Giving up wasn’t an option now nor was going back. And the only forward was through her. He looked past her to see the sunshine glinting against the tiles, beckoning him and something clicked in his mind. And he did the unthinkable, he jumped back into the fray.

Ducking and weaving through the flurry of attacks, like a ballet dancer cum samurai warrior, he avoided most of the blows. The ones that did hit him were glancing but they did sting badly. He saw off most of her advances but he soon ran out of luck. The sword zoomed out of nowhere and our protagonist, reflexes a little slow after all the battering, wasn’t fast enough to dodge it. He caught a blow straight to his face, turning it all red as if he were blushing. Holding his face in agony, he saw the weapon bear down on him for its final blow. He deftly sidestepped causing her just to lose balance momentarily. That was all he needed. Vaulting over her bent back, he dodged a desperate swing and … he was through.

He landed out into the open on both feet, like a cat, dusting off his clothes as he stood up. Shading his eyes against the harsh sun he saw that his destination wasn’t far off.  He ran with an easy loping pace, looking around to see that none of his pals had got past her yet. He savoured the moment as the lovely feeling of victory washed over him. 

Slowing down as he reached his approached his goal , he beheld a sight for sore eyes, the ultimate prize!! He slipped his hand into his pocket marvelling at the fact that the Object of Requirement hadn’t fallen out through all those adventures. He stared greedily at the mouth-watering treasure. Looking at aproned man ,standing behind the counter, in the eye, he took out the one dirham coin. Sliding it across the counter with a sense of relief, the student said,” Uncle, please can I have a samosa?”