I don't remember having felt this worthless before!
In an attempt to take up journalism I attempted the SPJS entrance test. I was looking forward to an interview call after the written test. I got it. The interview was scheduled today. Right from the moment of my arrival at the venue, I was having a gut-feeling that something was amiss. I couldn't figure out what it was; but something was wrong. I was almost certain of it when, the moment I entered the school premises, the personnel could recognise me without any reference. It was as if they had known me since long; they could recognise my face and recall my name at once.
I had reasons to be shocked. Firstly my name is not very common. People usually mistake it to be Prachi, Preeti, or Preetha; but rarely do I meet individuals who can get it right the first time. The looks of the personnel did not suggest that they would get it the first time. Well, looks are deceptive at times. I decided somewhat uncomfortably that they were two of the very few. On further thoughts it occurred to me that they must have handled my documents during all these days; which made it easier to remember the name-face combination. Moreover mine was possibly a unique profile. So considering all factors it was not entirely impossible.
Secondly, while I sat at the classroom that served as the waiting room for candidates and an elderly gentleman came in; his looks suggested that he was one of the senior officials at SPJS. Curiously, even he recognised me at once. Apparently he had come in to inform me that there would be a delay in starting the interview process, owing to the poor condition of the city streets on the rainy morning. He actually meant that the candidates were being given time to handle the somewhat paralysed civic infrastructure. He also seemed to be amused at my being there on time. Indeed, his first question was "How did you manage to be here on time?" Well, keeping time is an almost unheard of phenomenon in Kolkata, especially so when the weather God plays mischief. This gentleman who had seen and known much might have had the urge to know the particulars of the candidate who had reached on time, despite the flooded roads. Things were understandable till here; but officials don't generally bother about their loopholes. I was a little shocked when this gentleman took the trouble to inform me of the delay. Even in this situation when I was more doubtful about everything that had been happening since morning, I couldn't help thanking the person who had helped me make punctuality a second nature.
Next, very strangely this gentleman was concerned about my comfort levels in the room which was kept at a fairly low temperature by two ACs. Though the room was quite comfortable, yet I saw him checking the two machines and trying to make it better. My doubts got graver. I had never heard of a senior official taking note of a candidate's comfort level at any of the interviews that I had faced till date.
This was when the idea of someone having referred my candidature to the officials struck me. Who could it be??? I flashed through the contact list on my cell phone. If this was the case, there was only 1 person on earth who could have done this. In fact, I had scheduled an appointment with him and needed to call him to reschedule it in view of the SPJS interview. I called him. Before I could tell him anything, he knew why I couldn't keep the appointment. I was convinced that it was him.
The thought of the referral shook my confidence. I had answered the test quite well. I knew I could do it. The referral didn't let me assess my performance.
The interview began a little later. At the interview hall, I met the same two officials.
The interview went on predicted lines. The elderly gentleman ended it saying "We will give you a seat." This again was something incoherent. I was the first candidate to be interviewed. How could someone conclude without interacting with the others that I deserved a seat?
Later I learnt that the elderly gentleman was the veteran journalist Sam Rajappa. I read his pieces quite often; I had pictured him to be a tougher man.
Well...all's well that ends well!
I have a lot to prove now.
