But completely unfazed by this furor, Dr. Pranav Banerjee was sitting in his office, composed as ever and immaculately dressed as ever, with all his mental faculties focused on one thing and one thing alone, which was to solve the Rubik’s cube that was presently in his hands. The task he faced was one that required sharp focus and patience; carefully he must plot and plod his way through every twist and turn; a wrong move born out of panic would only protract his pains.
Suddenly the phone in his office rang. It was a call from another of the trustees, the seventh one this morning. He picked up the phone and tried to pacify this one as he had pacified the others before him.
“This has been going on for a week, and you have not taken any steps to deal with it!”
“Trust me Sir, I will have it under control in a couple of days.”
“But it has gotten in the newspapers now, do you think this is going to be so easy to control?”
“You chose me to be the Director of this Institute, now believe me when I say that I will have it under control in a couple of days.”
“Well you better.”
“I will. Now have a good day Sir.”
Putting down the phone, he sighed and shook his head, disappointed at the impatience of these commoners. He was about to go back to solving his cube, when suddenly his cell phone chimed, signaling the arrival of a new e-mail.
A content smile lit up his face as he read that e-mail. It was all he required to solve this mess. He picked up the phone on his desk again and called his assistant to join him in his office.
His assistant was a younger man who had been working for him for a couple of years. All morning long he had been dealing with a tsunami of phone calls, giving glib-tongued responses to media, parents and other miscellaneous, all of whom were looking for either answers or reactions after the newspaper article of this morning.
Now, he was stepping in to the office of his employer, a man he had come to respect and idolize in these past two years.
“Do you have that circular ready? The one I asked you to prepare three days ago.” Doctor Banerjee asked him, getting straight to business.
“Yes Sir,” the young assistant replied.
“Have it circulated then,” his employer instructed, an assured look on his face.
“I..I really think this one is a brilliant idea Sir. Hats off to you for this ingenuity,” It was a genuine compliment from the young man who was well aware of the Director’s aversion towards any kind of sycophancy.
“It is very simple Sharma. Protests are easy when you have nothing on the line, when you have nothing to lose. We are just giving them something to lose now, let’s see if they are ready to make a sacrifice or two for their cause,” The Doctor laid out and as his assistant turned to leave, he immersed himself back in to the cube, giving it a twist that he knew could turn out to be a pivotal one in attaining the final solution.
*******
3
‘It is hereby announced that Screenshot Consultancy Services shall be coming to the campus next week for the placement of final year students. All necessary details about it, such as the registration process, eligibility criteria etc. are now available on the college website.
It is also conveyed to you that the students who continue to participate in the ongoing protest shall not be allowed to be a part of this placement process.’
Above was the notice which was circulated in the college campus that afternoon. And as Dr. Banerjee had anticipated, within minutes of the circulation of that notice, the protestors in large chunks began abandoning their posts on the floor and returning back to their regular seats, the zealot insurgents converting back to their former status of subservient and docile pupils in mere instants.
By the end of the day there remained only a handful of them and even they were a dispirited and dejected lot. Satisfied over these fruitful events, Dr. Banerjee and his assistant were seated in the former’s office, enjoying some hot delicious coffee.
“It was bound to work. The students are well aware of the fact that Screenshot Consultancy Services has the most number of intakes when it comes to placements in our campus. No way were they going to miss out on that opportunity for the sake of a meaningless protest. It was a stroke of genius on your part Sir, to get them to come to the campus a month earlier than it was originally scheduled,” the assistant summed up, as he took a warm sip of that delicious coffee, its flavors seemingly enhanced by the eminent company which his employer currently bestowed upon him.
“It was no genius Sharma, none at all,” the doctor reproached lightly. “It was a very simple idea and anyone could have thought of that. So let us be done away with the praises, and tell me, how many of these students still remain in the protest?”
“Well the notice caused most of the seniors to pull out, which in turn effectively ended the participation of the juniors that those seniors had dragged along with them. All in all there are some seven students left now, all seniors. One is the boy Rishabh Jain, who started this whole thing in the first place. Another is a Sameer Verma, the captain of our football team, my sources tell me that he is a close friend of Rishabh Jain. Then there is that student activist Ajit Singh, and the rest of them are his ardent followers. There is no else left Sir,” the assistant thus described the remaining protestors to his employer, before he went on to briefly add his own opinion on the course they could take from here on. “Merely seven of them left Sir, if we just leave them be, like we did earlier, this time they will surely whittle away within days at most.”
“No Sharma, that won’t do,” The doctor was quick to turn down his advice. “The trustees want it to be completely wiped off, they don’t want to see a sign of it,” he added and then leaned back in to the chair, falling in to a ponderous mood. It was some while later when the doctor spoke again. “That boy Ajit Singh, I believe he wants to go abroad for his Masters?”
“Yes Sir, he has been trying to get in to the Ontario University,” eagerly replied the assistant, having done a good job of gathering information on the students, he was glad that it was turning out to be useful for his employer.
“I believe, a reference letter from an alumnus of that University would go a long way in helping him get that admission,” the doctor mused.
“Indeed Sir!” the assistant agreed.
“Isn’t Professor Dhawan of the Mechanical Department an alumnus of that University?” the doctor hinted and a knowing smile spread itself on the visage of the assistant.
“I will set up a meeting with him, first thing tomorrow,” the assistant was once again impressed at the cleverness of the move his employer had devised.
“You do that, let us see if Mr. Ajit Singh is ready to give up on something that he desires,” the doctor wondered, though he was quite confident about the success of his plan.
*******
He did not rejoice when others had joined him in the protest, and he saw no reason to despair, now that they had forsaken him. The cause was always a personal one and it remained so, he was determined as ever to carry on with his fight, and the tide of the multitudes was not going to affect either his patience or his poise.
When Ajit Singh, so far one of the biggest proponents of the protest, came up to him that morning and told him of his decision to withdraw, in response to it, he did not even flinch.
“It’s alright man, no problems,” he had replied simply.
“You have to understand that it is a lost battle now, and it is not only wise, but graceful as well to concede defeat. Save your energy now. Prepare for the next battle,” The student activist had gone on to explain vehemently, trying hard to cloak his personal greed as wisdom.
“It’s cool man, no problems,” Rishabh had reiterated before going back to resume his seat on the floor for the coming lecture.
*******
Cowards!
Selfish Muppets!
Pudden-headed dolts!
These were some of the phrases
Sameer used in his head to describe his peers after the recent set of events. Unlike Rishabh, he couldn’t help but feel disgusted and enraged towards them for the abject selfishness they had shown in the past twenty four hours.
Perhaps these people did not deserve a better education system, may be they were only worthy of what they were getting, of boring lectures and useless assignments turning them in to half-assed engineers.
Sameer was walking through one of the corridors of the college, his mind brewing with such distressful thoughts, when suddenly he felt someone touching his shoulder from behind. As Sameer turned to look back, he was met by the official looking face of Mr. Sharma, the Director’s personal assistant.
“The Director has summoned you to his office. Please come with me,” Mr. Sharma announced formally, and then immediately turned and began to make his way towards the stated destination.
Sameer started to follow him, more than a little surprised at the sudden summoning. He found himself wondering about the reason for it, and it was only after he had passed a few moments in his mentations that the stark possibility of it being about the protest presented itself to his mind.
On reaching the Director’s office Sameer was ushered straight inside, where he encountered the sharp and stately looking figure of Dr. Pranav Banerjee.
“Good morning, Mr. Verma. Please sit down,” the Director, who was seated behind his large mahogany wooden desk, signaled to the seat opposite him.
“Good morning Sir,” Sameer moved to the offered seat. The civility shown by the Director to him was not at all unexpected. Unlike many of the professors and college administrators who always treated students with a degree of condescension, the Director was well known for showing an equal degree of courtesy towards everyone he encountered, be it the professors, the students, security or maintenance personnel, or any one from any other department.
“Thank you for coming Mr. Verma. I will not waste your time and come straight to the point. Your aggregate total in the exams up to now is 59.8%, while it clearly states in the rules that a student requires at least a 60% aggregate to be eligible for taking part in any extra-curricular activities,” Dr. Banerjee stated concisely, and then paused to let the situation sink itself in to the young man’s mind. He did not have to wait for long, for soon there rose lines of alarm on his face, testament to the fact that he had realized the precarious position he was in.
“You mean, to say, I…I..I can’t be a part of the college football team now??” Sameer put forth in a weak voice, his world turning upside down in duration of just a few seconds. Football was his life, playing for the football team was the entity on which his whole existence was based, there was nothing else in the world he loved so much as this game, and facing the possibility of having it snatched away from him was akin to someone stabbing him in his stomach with a sharp ice pick.
“It seems so, young Sir, I am afraid, it seems so,” Dr. Banerjee continued to let his words linger, adding to the pangs of the young man. “I do not want to be an unreasonable man though. I am sure you can cover the percentage gap in the next exams. And I certainly do not wish for our team to lose its captain for the upcoming tournament. So I will make you a deal Mr. Verma. You end this protest of yours and I will overlook this minute gap in your marks and we can both have what we want.” After stating out the morally scandalous proposal the Director went silent, focusing his piercing gaze unto Sameer’s face in an attempt to gauge him up.
“This…this is blackmail!” Sameer muttered out in a strained voice, fighting hard to keep his emotions in check. What was happening here was detestable, outrageous, a blatant mockery of justice!
“Let us not be so irresponsible with our words Mr. Verma,” the director advised, aplomb in the face of his allegation. “We have a very simple situation here, one with a very simple solution. All you have to do is to make a decision, whether you want to be part of the problem, or part of the solution.”
“Rather I would prefer to leave now,” Sameer suddenly stood up from his seat, a rage was brimming underneath his skin and he wanted to get away from here before he got himself in some greater trouble.
“Very well, so I infer that you are going to carry on with your protest?” the doctor asked, once again calm and unaffected by the happenings in front of him.
“Yes Sir, I am not going to ‘sell’ myself out to you,” Sameer said bitterly, grinding his teeth. There was a lot more that he wished to say at that moment, but fewer the words he spoke, the better it was for him.
“Very well, I respect your spirit young Sir. Good luck and have a good day,” the doctor smiled and showed him the way out.
Sameer turned and moved towards the door, but as he was about to make his exit, out of some murky corner of his mind, a question cast itself forth in front of him. It was a question that at once compelled him to stop and walk back in to that room, a question for which he and every other student who had participated in that protest was owed an answer to.
“Do you think our education system is perfect Sir?” Sameer asked.
“No, young Sir, it is not perfect, far from perfect,” the director answered him candidly.
“Then when we are asking for improvement, why are you not even ready to recognize our voice? Can you at least answer me that Sir?” Sameer demanded after gathering all his courage.
“I will tell you what, I respect your spirit, and a spirit like yours deserves the truth. So I will let you have it. The system requires improvement, but the points you raised in your protest, they do not fulfill that purpose the least bit. So that is why they were discarded without even being considered,” the director gave it to him straight, without any pretense, without any attempt at mincing his words.
“I am not sure…I understand what you mean Sir,” Sameer replied, confused.
“What do you think the main purpose of our education system is, or let me be more particular, what do you think the main purpose of our college is?” the director asked.
“To teach engineering, to turn out good engineers..” Sameer ventured to answer.
“Ah, this is where you are wrong my good Sir. The purpose of our system is not to turn students in to good engineers. Instead the purpose of our system is placements. Because it is our placements on which we are judged upon young Sir. Do not look so surprised now, and just answer me this next question, which are the two biggest companies that come to our college for placements?” the director went on to inquire.
“Screenshot consultancy services, and Excel Sheet Technologies I believe,” Sameer answered.
“And your belief is correct. So are these two companies looking for good engineers? I will answer that question for you, no young Sir, they are not. What they are looking for, are confused and perplexed minds with decent communication skills and some basic reading and writing abilities. And that are what we, the system, are committed to provide for them.”
“I do not understand Sir, why would they not want good engineers?” A dismayed Sameer asked, the whole thing making no sense to him.
“See it this way. Screenshot consultancy services intakes 150 students from our campus each year. Say if all of these 150 students, are inspired by the ingenious and noble ideas of men like Fourier, Parseval, Faraday etcetera, if they are adept in the complex technologies of Robotics, Signal Processing etcetera, do you believe for a moment then, that these students will be able to survive in a job that will require them to sit at a desk and take screen shots all day, no, young Sir, they will not. And can you fathom, such inspired minds, working for ExcelSheet Technologies, where they will be required to spend their days making a variety of excel sheets, no Sir, again, they will not. So correct your facts young Sir, we are not here to turn out good engineers, we are here to turn out good placement prospects for these large multination companies.”
“but how can it..be? this is..insane!”
“Nothing is insane at all. It is so very well laid out, even from the time when y
our schooling starts. You are given regular dosages of large chunks of information to cram, getting good marks in examinations is drilled in to your minds as the motive of your life, the results and the positions are to give you a false sense of accomplishment, and this same thing is carried forth in to the college. And it works, it works so very well. Why do you think all your fellow protestors chose placement instead of continuing their fight for a good education system?”
“Because for the past three years, placement has been drilled in to their minds as the main motive of their lives..?”
“Indeed, you are a fast learner Mr. Verma. I admire that. Now that you know what our system is designed for, you can also see that your suggestions are only detrimental to it. Lesser number of sessionals will result in more time for our students to explore and learn, and what if they ended up learning something useful! No young Sir, we can’t have that. It is the same reason we can’t reduce the mandatory percentage of attendance required to appear in the exams. And about giving assignments that deal with practical real life problems, well that would be like committing suicide. So there you have it, why we can’t consider any of your demands. But if you have any, which would rather improve our system, help us turn out even more bewildered young minds than before, then you are welcome to share them with me anytime, my doors are always open for you.”
“And I have told you all this, because I hope that after hearing it, you will know how futile a cause it is that you are fighting for. Be wise and shun it therefore. Now have a good day young Sir, and one more thing before you go, this conversation never happened.”
Sameer was so flabbergasted after hearing these words that he said no more, gave no more reactions, and just wandered out of the Director’s office, with puzzled looking eyes staring at the faces of all that passed around him.