Everything Else Is Rubble
The administrative office in front of the main building. In this age of endless information, I sometimes pause and realize something strange. I am drowning in information, but starving for memories. Every day, my mind absorbs hundreds of headlines, messages, videos, opinions, and notifications. Most of them vanish without a trace. Yet when I stop for a moment, memories from forty years ago return with astonishing clarity. Today, for some reason, my thoughts wandered back to my school and its teachers. I remember my kindergarten teacher, Ms. Carol at Little Angels. She was Anglo-Indian, impeccably dressed, and absolutely determined that every letter I wrote should sit neatly within the four lines of my notebook. Not touching the ceiling. Not falling through the floor. Perfectly contained. I don't remember what I had for lunch three days ago. But I remember those four lines. My first-grade teacher, Ms. Alice at BP Indian Public School, was...
It just doesn't matter how much ever the Professor says - It is a simple 100 marks paper. You will have five questions each of 20 marks. You should ideally be out of the exam hall in half an hour. The effort you put in to prepare for a relatively easy paper is almost the same as that of a tough one. Ultimately, whether the paper is easy or not, the contents can be filled in the sheet only when something is there in the mind. I am a professional as far as writing exams are concerned. Right from my school days, struggling through my Pre-University exams and battling it out in my undergraduate exams, I would have written close to 250 exams (tests inclusive) easily. Life doesn't change though when you are again preparing for an exam, the only difference being now you are writing a graduate exam. Atleast let me get the preparations right! Let's care about the result later!
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