The digital clock on the bottom right corner of the laptop screen ticked to 11:30pm. There had been an announcement on the college notice board earlier that morning that the grades for the final paper of MBA would be declared that day. I had been staring at the screen for the past one hour, waiting for the mail which would reveal the final grades. I was both excited as well as afraid.
My grade point average over the past 6 terms and nearly half a ton of papers was hovering just below 6. And getting it to that number hadn't been easy. The first two terms in college had been tough and packed with extracurricular and placement activities, with little or no time for proper studies. After 2 terms, my average grade point was just over 5. And it was then that I had taken the decision to give it my all - to do whatever it takes to bring that to 6 by the end of the two years - a landmark relevant not just because of the wholesome figure, but also because many companies used to keep a cut off of a 6 grade point average for students in order to participate in their placement process. And I had done whatever it took - from pampering my professors, studying when all my friends were hanging out and partying, to cheating in exams over the next 4 terms.
And then I saw it. The mail for which it seemed I had been waiting for half a lifetime. My hand automatically shifted to the touchpad and my fingers instinctively clicked on the link. The next page that lay before me gave me joy which I had not felt in a long long time. I had done it! I had raised my grade point average from 5 to 6 in four terms! I was a hero! I danced around my room and congratulated myself over and over. I had achieved my life's dream! If someone had killed me at that moment, I would have died in peace, without regrets or remorse.
Today, when I look back on that day, I cannot help but laugh at myself for my actions. I was that dog which runs after cars barking behind it, but does not know what to do when the vehicle finally stops and the man steps out. The grade points had not really mattered during my placements in the end. I had been placed along with 11 of my batch mates in a Bank, and it is safe to assume that my grades had played absolutely no role in that. Till date, no one has ever asked me about my grades in college: not even a single person.
But still the grades had mattered then. It had given me a target during my MBA years. The figure of 6 had acted as a flickering light on a dark night, guiding the ship of my aspirations and pushing me to try that much harder. But sadly, somewhere down the line that determination had given birth to an obsession. That obsession for grades had made me miss out on many experiences I might otherwise have had in college. And that obsession today has finally given rise to feelings of amusement and guilt in my heart.
The past is like a funhouse mirror. When we look back on our memories, we see them as distorted. Memories often lack the intensity of the real experience. The reason is not because memories fade with time, but because our own attitudes and ways of thinking are often transformed over time. The emotions we feel from a certain stimulus tends to change as we grow older. Our reactions to the same event changes as time goes by. And so the resultant image of our feelings from a past experience or event is distorted - mixed with humour, shame and awe - ingredients arising from the difference in our inclinations and approaches with respect to time. As I write this down, smiling at my stupidity in running after grades in a past life, who knows how I might feel when I read this blog post 5 years from now?
My grade point average over the past 6 terms and nearly half a ton of papers was hovering just below 6. And getting it to that number hadn't been easy. The first two terms in college had been tough and packed with extracurricular and placement activities, with little or no time for proper studies. After 2 terms, my average grade point was just over 5. And it was then that I had taken the decision to give it my all - to do whatever it takes to bring that to 6 by the end of the two years - a landmark relevant not just because of the wholesome figure, but also because many companies used to keep a cut off of a 6 grade point average for students in order to participate in their placement process. And I had done whatever it took - from pampering my professors, studying when all my friends were hanging out and partying, to cheating in exams over the next 4 terms.
And then I saw it. The mail for which it seemed I had been waiting for half a lifetime. My hand automatically shifted to the touchpad and my fingers instinctively clicked on the link. The next page that lay before me gave me joy which I had not felt in a long long time. I had done it! I had raised my grade point average from 5 to 6 in four terms! I was a hero! I danced around my room and congratulated myself over and over. I had achieved my life's dream! If someone had killed me at that moment, I would have died in peace, without regrets or remorse.
Today, when I look back on that day, I cannot help but laugh at myself for my actions. I was that dog which runs after cars barking behind it, but does not know what to do when the vehicle finally stops and the man steps out. The grade points had not really mattered during my placements in the end. I had been placed along with 11 of my batch mates in a Bank, and it is safe to assume that my grades had played absolutely no role in that. Till date, no one has ever asked me about my grades in college: not even a single person.
But still the grades had mattered then. It had given me a target during my MBA years. The figure of 6 had acted as a flickering light on a dark night, guiding the ship of my aspirations and pushing me to try that much harder. But sadly, somewhere down the line that determination had given birth to an obsession. That obsession for grades had made me miss out on many experiences I might otherwise have had in college. And that obsession today has finally given rise to feelings of amusement and guilt in my heart.
The past is like a funhouse mirror. When we look back on our memories, we see them as distorted. Memories often lack the intensity of the real experience. The reason is not because memories fade with time, but because our own attitudes and ways of thinking are often transformed over time. The emotions we feel from a certain stimulus tends to change as we grow older. Our reactions to the same event changes as time goes by. And so the resultant image of our feelings from a past experience or event is distorted - mixed with humour, shame and awe - ingredients arising from the difference in our inclinations and approaches with respect to time. As I write this down, smiling at my stupidity in running after grades in a past life, who knows how I might feel when I read this blog post 5 years from now?
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