Locked in Doubt: Chapter 3
3
Dec 13, 2022 (4 months back)
Progress University
4 months back…
Sanath waited for his professor’s attention with an ever-so-straight spine.
Professor Arora’s eyes scuttled across the ‘Science and Technology’ section of the day’s newspaper. The sports pages underneath sang tales of glory and downfall. The space for politics seemed to yell ‘scam!’ every ten lines. And the business section flaunted seven-digit numbers.
Yet, just as with Sanath, the professor remained oblivious to these cries for attention. He hummed a tune Sanath had never heard as he perused the lucky pages.
Sanath observed his yellow-walled surroundings to see what had changed in the last few months. Arora’s aura ensured that he avoided visiting this place whenever possible. But there was no denying that the room itself was fascinating.
Mini-humanoid robots of varying sizes moved across the window sill. Sanath watched the larger ones first. They opened flaps on their chests every now and then. Water would then gush out from their open bodies and hit the glass window. The smaller robots had hairy bodies which they used as brushes to wipe the window clean.
“One, two, three –,” began Sanath, counting the robots before rebuking himself.
The professor tapped the table and the vending machine put together a glass of tea. A toy crane picked this glass up and deposited it on its customer’s table.
Just then, Arora rolled the newspaper. Swearing under his breath, he flung it out through the open doorway with a disgruntled sigh. And Sanath knew what that meant — it was all old news to him. Again.
The professor looked up at the fair, wide-eyed, diminutive boy sitting in front of him. He brushed his long, greasy hair out of his eyes. Finishing his tea, he motioned for the crane to collect it. Finally, came his voice — “What brings you here, Sanjit?”
Sanath replied, his voice quivering — “As you had asked, Sir, I’m here to show you my final year project.” He resisted the urge to repeat the last few words.
“Ah, yes, the big project! Or should I say, the small project with euphemisms?”
Sanath bit his lips to avoid gritting his teeth. And this time, it wasn’t his strange mannerisms he was fighting. He knew he had to control his temper. The last thing he wanted was for the next day’s newspaper to add spice to his life. He could do without an “Arrogant prodigy attempts to silence his critics through murder” headline.
“My project is a multipurpose iris camera,” began Sanath. He had rehearsed a much better opening line for his product. But as always, meeting the head of his department had tied a knot in his throat.
“How many purposes can a camera have?” barked Arora. He was not one for fancy names.
“Well, my project is this, Sir,” said Sanath. “I have developed a tiny camera which you can insert in your eyes like a contact lens. So what you see is what it captures. It offers video recording with audio. It allows for still shots by slow blinking. What’s more is –,”
“Hold your horses, kid,” cut in the professor. “How do you view all these ‘videos’ without a device? Oh — I’m sorry. I forgot this is just one of those ‘prototypes’ that will head to the trash-can once I give you a grade!”
“As a matter of fact, Sir, I do have a mechanism to view these videos with existing devices,” said Sanath. He tried to sound calm, but his voice shook with triumph. He was certain that the ball was in his court today. He reached for his shirt’s pocket and produced two objects. One of them looked just like a contact lens. The other was a silver-coloured metallic cuboid of the dimensions of a matchbox.
“So this contact lens here is our iris camera,” said Sanath. Turning the box towards his professor, he said, “See this opening here? That’s a USB port. Whenever -,”
“I know a USB port when I see it, genius!”
“Yes Sir, I understand. Whenever you want to view a video, you connect this to a computing device. Then, you place the camera on top of this box. This glass stores data in a new format I developed, called The OptiMag Format. The paper I’ve submitted explains this name.
“The OptiMag data ‘seeps’ through to the box which converts it to mp4. After that, it’s all regular file transfer.
“And I must add,” continued Sanath. “These image frames are automatically sent to the cloud along with all relevant details like date, time and location. Further, all these images are watermarked so that nobody else can arbitrarily quote or modify your unique experience!”
Professor Arora nodded as Sanath waited with bated breath for his verdict.
“Okay, I’ll give you a grade — provided,” said the professor, “this thing of your works. I’ll keep it here for testing.”
“Thank you, Sir,” said Sanath, rising. He thought for a moment and added, “So what would be your comments on the project?”
“Well, what can I say?” said Arora, his arms outstretched, as if in surrender. And as Sanath’s face broke into a smile, Arora continued, “This is rubbish.”
Sanath’s mouth made weird movements as his expression oscillated between exasperation and disappointment. He had worked harder than he ever had to please the professor whom he had always failed to impress. Sanath figured he had two choices — to be the sensible guy and walk out with a nod, or to press Arora for an explanation. He chose the latter after taking a moment to select his words with care.
“Could you specify the areas in which I can improve?” he asked.
Arora shook his head with vigour as his hair swayed in either direction. “It’s not about this particular product, Sanjit,” he said. “See, you’re a prodigy and it’s about time you accepted that. Everyone in this college has heard stories of how you could solve integrals at the age of three. And it’s the gifted people like you who need to bring about disruptive innovation. And I mean disruptive with a capital D!”
He tapped the table twice. This time, he got water. “What you’re doing here,” continued Arora between gulps. “Is making miniscule improvements to existing technologies. Which is what I would call one half-hearted attempt for a prodigy.”
Sanath winced when he heard the word ‘prodigy’ for the second time. He had grown to hate this word.
“And what the hell is the deal with the cloud uploading stuff you talked about?” said Arora. “Do you really know any customer who would wish to send a snapshot of his sad life to a corporate server? I wouldn’t, for sure, no matter how secure you claim it to be.”
“Look at your friend Jagan,” he continued, keeping his glass down. “He pines to innovate, though he doesn’t have the talent. You could do with adopting his attitude towards engineering.”
Sanath offered a melancholic nod and exited the room. One of the robots shouted, “Next!”
*****
“Dude, how did it go?” asked a perspiring Jagan. Sanath smiled as he saw his lovable lump of a friend charging towards Arora’s room at the call of the robot.
“Nah, the usual ‘I’m disappointed with you’ remark,” said Sanath with an indifferent wave of his hand.
“Oops. So he’s in a bad mood, eh?”
“Chill, Jug, you’re in his good books! He’ll love your project no matter what!” And Sanath was being truthful. For someone to have been branded ‘talent-less’ by his professor, Jagan sure was an over-achiever. He stood second in class, just after Sanath. His resume was adorned with computer-related projects, prizes and publications. And he had spent many a sleepless night working on his secretive final year project. Sanath yearned to discover what his friend had been working on.
“I sure hope so! Wish me luck,” said Jagan, as he excused himself into Arora’s room.
*****
The familiar gloom was back.
The worst part, thought Sanath, was that Professor Arora was right.
“Of course I’m a prodigy,” said Sanath to himself, as he lay on his hostel bed.
“But I never asked for it. I don’t think I even have an inextinguishable passion for the field. Heck, I don’t even try to be the topper. It’s just that everything is so… easy.”
And for the umpteenth time in his life, Sanath glared at the ceiling crying aloud, “Once, just for once in my life, I wish I were an underdog!”
Click here for Chapter 4
