MEMOIRS OF A FRESHER

Following article is written by Maitrey, he expressed true feelings of the every UPSC (Civil Service Aspirant)….. it made me nostalgic….

Aniket

MEMOIRS OF A FRESHER

Maitrey Kulkarni, IFS(P)

Exactly a year ago, on the day before yesterday, I fell out of a most amazing yet enigmatic process that is held annually in our country. The nostalgia still holds. And so, this memoir...

Looking back, it took long getting here. Looking at the present, how big a deal was it?

The conveyor belt started hacking in Decembers. They must be making a killing out of selling 'Employment News' on those Friday evenings. Those not bothered about the process might feel getting hold of an early copy counts for a bonus in the examination! Post-Offices across the country would then begin buzzing with unusual activity. The first govt. functionary (usually a postal clerk) with whom one interacted in the process of becoming an 'Officer' treated you as dirt. The anxiety of whether or not the CRF was properly stamped remained right until you received the hall-ticket. Those who toiled a bit hard and queued in front of a Facilitation (!?) Counter on Shahjahan Road were at least assured of an acknowledgment!

The steeple-chases to book-stores continued for 'India Year-Books', 'Economic Surveys', 'Vaji's Notes' and what not. In whatever little time remained, lakhs across the country gorged on tomes, scribbled on tables, gazed funnily at world maps and repeatedly engaged in mockery- for that is what they are literally called: 'Mock Tests'. The whirlwind of activity suddenly calmed on the day previous to the day of execution. Never was a wait so intimidating.

It is an unsolved mystery in the study of logic as to why the human mind chooses those particular four hours to play all available tricks in its repertoire. And yet it is an ode to human stoicism that none admitted of a bad performance in the sadistically torturous three hour break – the confessions poured out late in the afternoon, once the fete' was over. Then, as the day slowly faded, thousands of likely cases of OCD checked their answers compulsively- not just against one key, but every available one! Exuberance, delight, satisfaction, diffidence, disbelief, doom..all slowly ebbed into a lull...

Eventually, the wagon started creaking again. This journey was to be much more exhaustive. Whether or not the itinerary was new, the obstacles of additional subjects, long answers, essays were always startlingly fresh. Three Hundred Thousand journeys began in Three Hundred Thousand ways, with Three Hundred Thousand strong beliefs – that they were treading the wrong path! Around August 15^th a big, lucky chunk celebrated independence from this enigmatic race. Those left behind engaged in a unique ritual of filling a ½ kg form according to a 3 kg instruction set. Anxiety hung in the air about hobbies and achievements to be filled in the blank spaces, until the last date of posting the forms cut creativity short.

Then, the dark ages began. Those two months belonged not to bare necessities of life like food, drink, movies, cell-phones, but to newspaper cuttings, 'Yojana's, 'Kurukshetra's, underlined notes, class specific esoteric success mantras, previous years' (decades'? centuries'??) papers and innumerable other miserable means of sustenance. In the last few days one suddenly started pondering upon the questions of life. No wonder 'Philosophy' has been doing so well as an optional!

Of course, after all the pains, what you had studied and what you were questioned in the Mains were two mutually exclusive concepts. Yet, everyone utilized the whole three hours for each paper. But again, however much one may have scribbled under the punched letters in that examination, one always felt a lot more could still have been scribbled.

And it is in this mode of 'juda hoke bhi, tu muzme kahi baaki hai...' that four gloomy months passed. In the backdrop ran ideas of alternate career options, the love bug (for what an age to write an examination!), financial concerns, life- and other such trivial matters. Then, in the midst of all the 'confirmed' speculations, the result was declared at the most unexpected moment - interestingly, plunging all into disbelief regardless of the outcome.

Those more fortunate to have gotten a chance to quit the slush unfailingly failed to take advantage of the situation. With a brave face on heavy hearts, they went back to the Yearbooks, the Surveys- another year- newer facts...It's true that fools rush where angels fear to tread- ask us.

Meanwhile, those who found themselves trapped proceeded to 'prepare their personalities' (never mind the oxymoron) and plunged into Mockery 2.0 (The Next Level- Oral!). Eventually the day arrived, the previous night of which no one sleeps well. As one entered that eerie room, one seriously doubted the existence of one's knees. Of course, the atmosphere was cordial; Of course, simple questions were asked; Of course, the wise old men on the other side were very encouraging (these are no fairy tales to be narrated to aspirants so that they may sleep happily ever after – things actually happen that way). Yet one infallibly came out of the room amazed – amazed at one's enormous capacity of bungling things up!

In that last month, one just held books in front of one's eyes and convinced oneself that he/she was preparing for the next round of the conveyor belt – until that one message from a friend said “ rslt out”! In the haze of things that followed, those who found their names missing (sinful though it sounds after that ordeal) had every right to take pride in the way they accepted it as part of the game and, haltingly, went back to the drawing boards. But the question that was posed at the beginning of this memoir was for those stunned few, who asked nearby absolute strangers to confirm if it really was their name that the screen was flashing:

Looking back, it took long getting here. Looking at the present, how big a deal was it?

Still shaken by the nightmare, as we rub our eyes to the bright career ahead of us, one fact does wonders to our self-beliefs. In our early days in the service, as we meet seniors at every level of the hierarchy, a realization repeatedly keeps striking us- at some point in their lives, they too went through this! And yet, the sheer magnitude of the their achievements makes one feel that maybe the entrance exam was just net-practice, or better still, padding-up!

And so, to finally answer that question of 'looking back' and 'looking at the present', - as we try to follow the huge footsteps of those ahead of us and dare to dream of adding our little contribution, we suddenly realize that what the morrow heralds for us is the opportunity of channelizing better avenues to our fellow citizens; what it heralds is the privilege of sitting with a small tricolor in front of us at the negotiating tables of the world, presenting the views of our country; what it heralds is the honor of representing our motherland!

- Looking ahead, it was this big a deal!