A civil services aspirant arrives at Jia Sarai, Delhi for preparations of civil services exam. This is the qualifying exam in India for getting into coveted administrative services A week by week account of his stay. The exam is one of the most bitterly contested exams over the world. Total candidates applying for the exam exceeds 300000 every year. No of selected candidates less than 300. Jia sarai is a small place near IIT Delhi gate, South Delhi, where 1000s of aspirants prepare for this coveted exam. Here's the first installment.
New Delhi. The capital of India. At last, I am here. 10.00 PM, 2nd of november, 2005. The city is peaceful. It seems to me. Can’t believe there were bomb explosions few days back. The roads are empty. The auto chugs along. The driver hums a 'bhojpuri' song. I guess it reminds him of his home. This being the season of diwali and ‘chhatt’ (a festival of Bihar and UP), the longing becomes painful. The song gets louder; perhaps, unknown to autowallah, his heart vents the pain through the song. Giving courage to him in a land so far from his home. The wind is mild with a tinge of cold, hinting the arrival of winter. Heard there was a snowfall in Shimla. It would take 2 days for the cold air to come down to Delhi. I feel the thermals inside the bag. Yes, it’s there. I am safe. The auto takes a left turn into a small lane. Bold letters on a cement platform proclaim: “Jia Sarai Village”. I can see numerous papers on the boundary walls on both sides of the lane, advertisements from coaching institutes. “IAS made easy”, “Bhawani Singh public administration”, “GS for IAS”, “GATE 2006”, “JEE Physics”, the papers shout at me. Perhaps, they are hiding “Don’t stick bills” underneath. The street lamps wage a constant war with the darkness, winning a battle each night. The steep slope drives the auto into first gear. The rising throttle gives out a cry as if it understands the pain and longing of autowallah’s heart. I finally get down. Paid and thanked him. The ‘thanks’ from me lights up his face. Simple words work magic on hearts. Learnt from a friend. Jia Sarai, my home for next one and half years. I give a call to one of the seniors whom I know. He comes, wishes and hugs me. The hug saying all that he couldn’t express in words. Hands me over the key of my room, shows the location and hurries away. He has cleared the preliminary of civil services exam and is appearing for mains. He can’t afford to waste his time. I understand. I can see something in his eyes. Yes, I have seen it before. Where? Perhaps, in the eyes of a hungry tiger on discovery channel. I know the hunger is real. The eyes are also desperate. Don’t know why. I learnt it later. It’s his last attempt on the exam. He has exhausted all his attempts. The future hangs on it. A candidate is allowed only four attempts. Now I understand the intensity in his eyes. The eyes have the hunger and the urge to kill. The survival depends on it. Inside the room, I search for a mirror. To see if my eyes too have the same killer instinct. Can’t find one. I mean, I can’t find a mirror. My roomi doesn’t have one I suppose. Bugger, how does he shave? Well doesn’t matter. Let him come back from home. He’s supposed to come back in next 2 days. The room was not looked after for past 15 days. I switch on the fan. It’s foggy inside. Wait, it’s not fog. It can’t be. It was clear outside. Omigod, this is dust. Bugger has kept the ventilators open. There is this dust all over the room. Switch off the fuckin fan. 20 minutes fly by. Everything in the room is covered in dust, including me. The tap in the attached bathroom works. Cold water. Flush is ok. The room is a small 8 by 8 feet box with an attached toilet. Two cots occupy the major part. A table with my roomi’s comp occupies remaining. There’s a folded table too. Thrown in by a friend who left after failing three attempts at the exam. The room is full with various cartons of different sizes. Newspapers, bags, wastes and a whole monster world under the cot, questioning my very existence in the room. I see a mattress too, thrown inside in a hurry. Looks like the table friend has dumped this too. The shape of mattress explains the reason of his failure. Ahem, maybe partially. Used and worn out. Looks like he spent the major part of his time on it. Sleeping, wriggling…perhaps, masturbating, who knows? I come down. It’s 11.30 PM. The narrow lanes of Jia Sarai look busy. The tea and cigarette stalls are open. Hundreds of them having tea. Chatting away. Some looks serious. Some tired. And some, with the same killer instinct in their eyes. I can see numbers, am an engineer at heart. Tried guesstimating the percentage. Around 10 percent have it in their eyes. Took a tea. Damn cheap at 3 bucks for a full tea. Surrchai. Lit a cigarette. The combo is pleasure. The smoke curls as it comes out of my mouth. The turbulence reminds me of my internal churning, not yet streamlined. Came back to room. No, hold it. No fan now. Removed the bedspread carefully and put mine on the cot. Converted my winter jacket into pillow. Freshened up and went to sleep. Tomorrow, the day begins. Have to buy a mirror first. Unemployed by choice, lying in an obscure corner of jia sarai in Delhi, listening to music of mosquitoes, trying to sleep, waiting for the dreams. IAS, the dream, I, the dreamer. Tiru
