Vellore Institute of Technology’s entrance exam VITEEE 2009 was held today. My exam centre was allotted at Doon Public School in Paschim Vihar Some Godforsaken Place. The previous statement is hilarious, because the directions said ‘Behind Laxmi Narain Mandir’. Honestly, I totally wasn’t expecting to give this exam. Post April 1, I’ve scrambled to get my act together and sort something concrete out first with univ applications abroad, then think of the ones here. Till around late fall last year I did prep seriously for these Indian exams, but then abandoned that line after listening to feedback from friends currently in colleges about the state there; more on this some day later. Anyway, today’s exam was one I went in with pretty much no prep.
Finding out where the school is located took me most of the morning. Eventually, I reached there – tucked away in its Godforsaken Corner. As always there were people who were startled to find out that they had to use black ballpoint pens to mark their answers. (“Really? I thought this was just supposed to be an oral viva.”) I went up to check which room had been allotted for my roll number series. That particular row has been highlighted in the image shown above, to buttress my point (room number is written on the extreme left column). Life keeps on doing these things to me. And then people accuse me of being ‘obsessed with 42’. You tell me what am I supposed to do about this persistent ‘persecution’. ЁЯШР
I went up to the classroom in question. Hilarity ensued. Until now, it was just a number on a piece of paper. Now I saw the actual classroom…and it did have that number written. Prominently. Fellow candidates would be forgiven to think that I was walking in for an audition for Ravan‘s role (note to self: get a moustache to make said entrance more dramatic). I need to work on controlling my laughter. I kept breaking into laughing fits every few minutes in the exam; causing much consternation to the invigilator, which ultimately gave way to genuine concern on her part for my mental health. I could do most of physics and a bit of math, but for the most part in math and chem I was left without a clue. They have a very succinct mathematical term for this in Hindi to describe this situation which goes something along the lines of ‘mother and sister got integrated’. (Speaking of Hindi, you should definitely look up the translation of рднрд╛рдбрд╝ рдореЗрдВ рдЬрд╛рдУ рддреБрдо!) Onwards ho to the next exams then, quite a bit later so maybe I can scramble together by then.
(Back in Valhalla, Thor and his minions are having a cracker of party. Mead flows freely, wild sex orgies are taking place, a few of the minor gods are getting killed in the usual skirmishes which accompany such debauchery. A valkyrie is on her way to deliver news; she’s had to fill in for The Messenger after he was accidentally mauled by the particularly vicious swing of a club being used by a Norse God to swat a fly. The news she brings pertains to a meeting which was held earlier, where one of Thor’s minions came up with this fantabulous idea:
Hey guys, you know, there’s this kid on Earth who thinks he’s haunted by the number ’42’ wherever he goes. Won’t it be howlarious if we can convince The Godess of Chance to allot the room number for an exam he’s giving to ’42’? LOLZ!!1
The idea is well-received by his fellow Gods, who congratulate him for coming up with this gem by slapping him on the back affectionately – and thus snapping his spinal cord for the end of days to come. The Godess of Chance is persuaded to agree to the deed.
The valkyrie approaches Thor and tells him the news. “Sire, your order were carried out successfully. The kid was sufficiently distraught by this development. Look look, he’s even written a blog post here. LOLAX!!1“
Thor lets out a huge guffaw which causes gale force winds in George Bush’s ranch a week later. Thor is about to call for a bottle of chianti to celebrate when Dirk Gently gently tiptoes in and beheads Thor with a ninja shuriken.
The End. Of Thor. Literally.)