Sushmita

Today was the day. A lot was on bet for a lot many. Years and years of learning, of failures, of successes, of challenges won over and reputation earned was reduced to a single page resume. Based on that, a couple of professional strangers were to judge and give their acceptance or denial and so, of course, a lot of what mattered was removed from the page to give space for shiny glittering achievements and CPI. I, a placement volunteer, was carrying one such page.

I gazed around the familiar hostel corridors which looked quite different this cold December evening. The scene appeared an unclear night painting on a wrinkled paper. The spread of colours was either the work of an artist or a child. It was odd and uncomfortable. To see myself one year later being a participant of this made me shiver cold. A sullen murmur floated around in every corner and it was awfully silent and yet incredibly loud. I couldn’t imagine that a week back in these very corridors laughter and heavy abuses ran over fried chicken, smokes and Blenders Pride.

But amid the pacing tensions, the desperations and prayers, an image appeared different, as if made by strokes of a lighter pencil. I looked at her and then looked at the page in my hand.

Sushmita Patil

M.Tech, Computer Sciences and Engineering

Sitting hunched forward with both elbows on the lap and fingers interlocked and eyes looking down, she looked as if she didn’t belong here. Lost in her own cloud, she wasn’t soaking anything that was happening around her. Neither did she notice the people around, nor the murmurs that were so clear in my ears. It seemed like a different fight here. Fight, yes, but different.

“Sushmita Patil”, I inquired.

“Yes Bhaiya”, raising coffee-brown eyes a soft voice spoke, softest I’ve ever heard.

“No need to call me that”, I said. She must have been three or four years older than me.

”Well, you’re up in five minutes. You ready?”

“Yes… Bhaiya”, she nodded nervously, her voice even softer now. I knew she had tried not to call me that and I knew she would still do. For few more moments I looked at her, I don’t know what I was thinking.

I roamed in the corridor outside the interview room waiting for the company people to shout “Send the next one in”. During all this time, I kept thinking of her, making my own impressions, as I often do, of what the placements meant to her. ‘M. Tech, Computers’. Her profile was set and her career path defined. It looked to me a single straight road. No turns. A good sitting job with decent pay will be her life someday. An early someday if recruited here through the campus, a longer and rougher path if not. But it would lead there sure, someday. They always do.

Now, I knew a lot many people who were passionate about this field and worked on it for four years, day and night, committed to do the same for many more years. Today was a battle for them. Undoubtedly, it was her fight too, but I couldn’t tell how much she wanted to be a part of it. Some are soldiers for they want to, some because they ought to. No, she didn’t seem repulsive or sad about it. But not too passionate either. It looked like a duty and she made her peace with it. No complaints, none visible at least. It’s difficult to understand the ideologies and philosophies of the radicals, of those who wish to do great things, but it’s much harder to comprehend a simple mind. And so, I let go off the thoughts.

After ten minutes I sent her in the interview room as I had sent so many more the entire day. Twenty two people I sent in, including her, and all twenty two came out the same way they had gone in; nervous and unsure. In each face I saw something I didn’t want to see in mine the next year. (It always is that way, isn’t it? We sympathise with others not because the road is rough for them, but out of a deep inner fear that we might have to walk through it ourselves someday. ‘Better it befalls on him, than me’, we pray in our dark corners, silently, never loud. A whole race of hypocrites, of self-centered sweet talking bastards.)

After the interviews, I sent them all to the waiting room where light snacks were available and water too. We had an extra big supply of water during the placement season. It was needed.

Then I went inside the room to get the results. The interviewers were still having a final discussion and scribbling their circles and crosses all over the papers. I wanted to intervene and put forward requests. I wanted to make a case for everyone out there. I wanted them to select them all. For they did not know these people, they did not know our college’s culture and the great things we’ve learned and endured here. Had they known, I was sure, they would select them all. We deserved it, I was sure.

But I didn’t speak. I let them put their circles and crosses while I stood, smiling whenever they looked at me. For ten minutes I stood here, thinking all sorts of things and many a times thinking of Sushmita and her voice. More than anything else, I wanted them to select her. And I had only one reason for that. I didn’t want to be the one to break sad news to her. I had done it so many today, and I hated my job. Yes, to some I had shouted ‘Congratulations’ and it felt great and few even hugged me. But telling someone that they weren’t considered ‘good enough’ for the job is a cruel task. I couldn’t bear the thought of being that cruel to her, in all my helplessness. And so, when the sheet was handed to me, I did shake a bit.

Eight people they had selected they told me while handling over the paper. Eight out of twenty two.

I ran through the names. The seventh one read, Sushmita Patil. I was more relieved than happy and somehow grateful. “Thank You Sir”, I said, “Thank You very much.”