THE WAIT

The results of UPSC exams are supposed to come anytime. I expect good results in two exams that I appeared last year. One is Engineering Service exams (results due any moment) and the other is IAS mains (resultS expected in first or second week of March). In fact, everyone expects good results. Failure is no option. It means a year gone waste. Not exactly waste, but in a way, nothing less than waste.
One learns things from failure. So nice to hear/preach this but so difficult to bear when it comes to oneself. One never learns from failure. One bears them. Grudgingly. That process of bearing teaches things. Not the failure. I can already see the desperate eyes moving around in Jia Sarai. I see the pain of long wait. I see the anxiety. I see the worry lines. I see the anticipation. I see a mix of feelings. I see so much that now I don't see. Rather I choose not to see.
The results mean a lot to me. And to everyone who appears in this exam. A favorable result will lead me into interview (final stage) and an unfavorable result will negate all my good work of last year and make me stand at the beginning line. To start the race all over. Will I have the courage to pick up from there then? Will I feel the same strength in my shoulders to carry the weight of expectations? Will my brain cells support me? Will my body take all those long night outs for studies all over again? Will I have the guts to stay in these crowded yet lonely, dark lanes of Jia Sarai? Can I manage one more year in a 6 feet by 8 feet room where I and my books jostle for space? Will I have money to make my ends meet in case I want to take up the exam again? Will I have the will to take on? Take on the challenge?
The same questions bother others too I suppose. When I wish that I should get through, I also wish that all those who appeared and worked hard should clear the hurdle. But I know, all can't get through. Some might be left out. That 'some' is a big lot. The question is, whether I belong to this 'some' lot or the cleared lot? It does mean a lot.


Tiru

Addicted

Competition gives me high. It makes me feel alive. When I compete, I am completely in the present. I lose the time sense. I forget my limitations, I forget my worries, and I cease to have multiple identities. In fact, when the competition is at the peak, I merge with whatever I am doing. There is no difference between the actor and the activity.

Competition implies instability. One may succeed or fail while competing. Stability implies prediction. I hate to have a predictable future. Uncertainty is life. Living life on the edge is actual living. The motor neurons perform best when there is danger to life. The brain neurons fire best when they are under pressure to perform. Observe the sentences in this paragraph. They are short. Sentences formed by someone competing. No nonsense approach. Like rain drops falling. Do you see the hurry it implies? Do you see the sense of urgency? Do you see carelessness towards trivial things of life? Do you see a higher sense of purpose?

I love to fight. I can’t have physical fights now. I am grown up. So I fight mentally. That’s where competition comes in. I can virtually fight with millions who are competing with (or against?) me. I might win or lose. That’s not important. What’s important is the act of competing. I am fully alive throughout the process. The process ends after the results are out. Then what would I do? I can compete again if I lose. What if I win? I need one more competition. I am an addict. And I know there is no way out of this addiction. I will be this way all my life. Chucking stability and welcoming challenges. Why? You feel I am crazy? No, I am not. I have to do this, as I know that the day I stop competing, I am dead. And you see I don’t want to die anytime soon.

Tiru