The landline in the dining room had been ringing since morning with calls from hordes of well-wishers going unanswered. It was barely afternoon, but Mrs. Mehta had already spent 3 hours in front of the dressing table making sure that she looked perfect in her new sari. Mr. Mehta had spent the entire morning greeting the flock of journalists who had reached the house within hours of the announcement. For today was a day of great pride for the otherwise ordinary Mehta household with their son Ajit having secured AIR 1 in the prestigious IIT JEE examination and cemented his special position in family folklore. A similar atmosphere existed across another 10000 households in the country whose son/daughter had done them proud.
A celebration for this special occasion was more than warranted, for it was 2 to 3 years of sincere hard work that had paid off. What nobody seemed to care about was the fate of the 450000 others that they had left in their wake set to be branded as failures. Questions like ‘Is one exam enough to judge a child of barely 17 or 18 yrs?’ didn’t even cross people’s minds when they burdened the children with their verdict that they were apparent failures. Until today.
It didn’t come as a surprise really. Anyone who’d observed Niku for the past month would have seen the signs. Every dinner plate he pushed aside, every night he spent sleeplessly staring out of the window counting stars, waking up to pillows wetted by his tears. The colours and his paintbrush that once captured his imagination and happiness lay unused beneath the pile of books he’d thrown aside in his frustration. Every time he saw his mother look at him with those sad eyes he felt guilt rise in him like venom. Every night the news channels replayed Ajit’s success story and night after night his father would switch the channels and shake his head. He had refused to answer his friends’ calls to join them as he felt he’d lost his standing among them. He could feel Sharma uncle, who had once poured adulations on his class 10 success by praising his intelligence, now whisper behind his back and wonder aloud where his parents went wrong along the way. The day his younger sister asked him if she’d fail too if she studied like him? was the one he receded into a shell he never came out of. Though she never forgave herself afterwards it wasn’t her fault really.
She’d been bred and born in a system where your worth in the student community was solely decided by your success in competitive exams. She only knew a country where the beady eyes of the society followed you every step of the way, where people suggested cures worse than the malady you were portrayed to be. Just on the basis of the CA entrance exam you failed a 2nd time or the JEE you failed to crack. What nobody had told her was that it was the same country where more than 80 people out of every 100 have failed to clear an exam in their lives, but it didn’t really reflect in the outcome of their lives. What the media conveniently failed to mention was that for every person in this country who actually clears an examination there are at least a few dozen others who don't, and this doesn’t really make them ordinary.
What Niku needed then was to be reminded that there were stalwarts who had broken these societal stereotypes. What he should have considered before he decided to take that drastic step was that he was one among millions like him who had lost the so-called rat race and that in these huge numbers were the seeds of a revolution. That the times are changing and the nation’s perceptions have to be overturned. That the greatness you will achieve in life is not in the hands of people judging you on the basis of a single exam. The time when the only person questioning your potential can be you and the confidence you have is your own, others don't get to decide it. This is the time to light up hope in our hearts and happiness forever in our being. The time has come to put a smile on one billion faces.