From what I observed during my college days, the only three caste systems that actually run campus life in IITs are ...
Degree: BTech > MTech (मटका) > PhD
Branch: CS/MC > EE/EC/Mech > Civil/IP/Chem > Biotech/Textile/Others
CGPA: नहली > अट्ठी / सत्ती > छग्गी / पंजी > फक्का
It is 2001. I arrive at my JEE Mains centre in a Home Minister's car. "Lal batti" flashing. An armed guard riding along, if I remember right. My classmate Kuber's father was the home minister of Madhya Pradesh. I have stayed the night at their Bhopal bungalow, and his mother cooked dinner for me herself.
That is the kind of school Daly College is. My friends' fathers run states. I am the kid whose aunt paid the school fees.
The car waits outside through the whole exam. But the paper does not care who drops you off.
Inside the hall, I already know it has gone badly. I can attempt only a few questions.
I had bet two years on that exam - quit hockey, quit the quizzes and debates, studied while all my friends played. I placed the bet myself, and I lost it. The backup plan was a year in Kota. My father did not have the money for Kota.
So: RV College, Bangalore. Cauvery Block, 1st Floor. Nothing about my situation said "researcher." No brand name, no coaching, no one watching.
I pulled IEEE Transactions off the library shelf anyway, because the desire was mine and I stopped waiting for someone to authorize it.
A year in, I gave the JEE one more shot from my hostel room. Second attempt: 3363. Petrochemical at IIT-BHU. An IIT seat, at last - and I turned it down. I already had one paid-for year of computer science, and just three years left before I could start earning. Starting over meant four more years of fees, in a branch I did not want.
Fourteen years later, IIT Bombay calls. Not with a rank. With an offer to teach.
In 2016 I walk into CS763, Computer Vision, as the professor. Every student in that room cleared the exam I could not. It never once comes up. The exam's authority, it turns out, expires.
I teach there four years. Graduate 2 PhD students. One of them, Rishabh, is a professor today at Max Planck - the institute where I did my own PhD. The credit is his. At most I held a door open. But the symmetry stuns me: my student teaches where I trained, and I taught where I could not study.
So if an exam has just told you who you are - if you are stuck, and you know you are capable - hear me: it is not the end. The exam decided where I started. It had no authority over where I ended. Neither does yours. Do not wait for permission. Work like the desire is already authorized, because it is. It will work out - not on their schedule. On yours.
So tell me in the comments: the exam that said no to you, and the person you became anyway. Someone sitting tonight where I sat needs to read your comment more than my post.
𝗚𝗼 𝘁𝗮𝗸𝗲 𝘄𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗶𝘀 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿𝘀.
@JioCare@reliancejio Over a month of poor service and complete negligence. I've sent 5+ emails, raised support requests on X, and made several calls requesting JioFiber disconnection. No response, no action. Kindly disconnect my connection immediately.
@JioCare@reliancejio Can someone from the escalation team or a competent authority please take ownership of this issue and process the disconnection? This has gone on for far too long, and the lack of accountability is extremely disappointing.
The chairman of India’s largest private bank just resigned citing “ethical differences.”
He named no person. No incident. No practice.
But if you read carefully, he already told you everything.
A thread.
There’s no better proof that life is unfair than the second bhatoora. Think about it - both bhatooras start off as equals. The second could easily have been the first. But fate intervenes.
By the time you’re done with the first, three things happen:
1. You’re already full.
2. 300 calories of guilt are whispering in your ear.
3. The second one has gone limp.
You still eat it, but half-heartedly. No oohs, no aahs - just quiet resignation.
The second bhatoora did nothing wrong. It simply suffered from bad timing - and fades away unappreciated.
So next time someone preaches about karma or fairness, ask them - what about the second bhatoora?