Vulnerable to get inspired. I am having the weakness of getting inspired. That’s why my appearance is changed frequently. Inspiration is what has been a source to propel myself ahead.
This was a nice evening. My small home in Bibi Pakar Mohalla was surrounded from three sides and we do not have any window to the three sides. The home was where I lived since my memory goes back. I was developing myself and advancing. Getting inspired by people around. In the end of road was Don Bosco School in front, to the opposite side of road. I walked to left till Shoaib Manzil, crossed Zafar Sb home and there was SIO office. I had met some great people from old SIM when I was kid. I was offered to read “Naqli Shezada”, “Ibn-e-batoota” stories and lot more books. These books served me to develop a strong character building material. I wonder if coming generation will get enough time to read or not, as they are bombarded with information, innovation and technology. These forces kids of next-gen to use their mind less and being more materialistic in nature.
There were familiar faces. Iqbal was my old good friend. There I met Mujahid. A person I admired in first glance, since he was holding “H C Verma”. “Concepts of physics” by “H C Verma” was something like Harry Potter’s flying broom in Darbhanga. Students’ right from their class 9th starts taming it. I had a natural inspiration to this book. Anyone talking H C Verma was thought as a genius on earth. There was another person in discussion on a question from Optics, with Mujahid. The critical angle was in discussion. Mujahid’s father was a professor in Physics and he used to take classes. As I had developed a liking to K K Jha, so was not interested in any other teacher. Mujahid and the SIO program were a kind of ice breaker. We had similar mindset, so I, Iqbal and Mujahid along with other friends used to have SIO programs in Sundays. Some small competitions for children wings.Meanwhile when I discovered the Verma’s English more difficult than the numericals, I started solving M Karim’s numericals. Abbujan has named me Newton and since childhood I was made to believe myself as a scientist. I had developed a natural bias towards Mathematics and Physics. I was on.
One problem with inspiration is that you are hooked most of the times. The time today is resonating fast. I loved Physics, the path. But I forgot, or rather I would say didn’t defined an associated objective. Why I am studying this subject so deeply. Do I want to clear IITJEE, do I want to be a doctor, or what. I didn’t have the answer. I loved what I studied and I studied what I loved. A deadlock what happens in a love affair.
There happened other factors also. The love didn’t prove me to be intelligent. I was not an intelligent student. Till 10th class I was very weak in mathematics. I scored below average in Science as well. Things you love most are not where you score most. Love belongs to heart and intelligence belongs to mind. They seldom synchronize. There was a spark but not the light. I felt the tinkling heated pinch of my desires being in a turbulent storm of expectations from my parents and teachers.
“So, well you scored 42 out of 50 in physics. Quite impressive. Ok now tell me, had it been out of 100, what was the percentage?”
I was puzzled. The question was asked by one of the Physics professor of Patna Science College. I was there with Abbujaan to submit admission form. I knew for sure that 70% is not enough for Patna Science College, but I tried. We Bihari have this attitude. We know we will fail, but we try in the name of luck. We are reasonably highly unreasonable. There was discomfort on Abbu’s face which I noticed. I didn’t answer the question for 1 minute, and professor shouted.
“Is this the candidate you people want admission in Patna Science College?”
We were there to get my photo state mark sheets attested by this professor. I was deeply insulted. Professor thought me being an insult to the institution. And I was. Any average 8th class student could have answered this. But I was silent. I was not a hero. I was on the brink of bursting into tears. I hold. I was expecting a big lesson from Abbujaan.
“Koi baat nahi beta, ye sab hota rahtahai. Mehnat keejiye aura aage nikalye (Don’t worry Son, this all happens, keep doing hard work and get ahead)”. Abbu replied with a smile.
I was not expecting this reply from Abbujaan. I had just made him shameful in front of a professor. He controlled his emotion. He loved me and I knew, I felt something strong. I got a reason to come back.
Upon reaching the home, I was crying when all were sleeping. I made a pledge. I prayed to Allah. I started mathematics again. C M Sc College, year 1998-99. Five tuitions a day.Going shop to help Abba. Getting shop goods transported from transport office to our tower chowk shop. Focus on Mathematics and Physics. Memorizing biology. I was playing hard. I solved Maths and Physics mostly on our tower chowk crockery shop. Dusty clothes, patched pants, dealing customers, biology taxonomy in mind, my notebook in “Jhola (clothed bag) made by Ammi”, returning home in night on my Vespa scooter memorizing the whole day lesson. Getting satisfied. In night turning “Kerosene Lamp” on since I forgot some terms again. Catching the memories flying fast. Calculus, Algebra, Trigo, Coordinate and my Sir J L Chowdhary, Physics by master mind K K Jha, English by K KSinha, Biology by R P Sinha, Chemistry by H N Mishra. Help from Iqbal and Mujahid and other friends. I remember enthusiastic GhulamRabbani as well in SIO.
I learned a lot in the year 1998-99. Morning started with Soothing beautiful Azaan. In 5 AM, Going to Physics Tution, while crossing Naka5, the rhythm of Hanuman Chalisa in background “Jai JaiJai, g y a n gursa a agar, jai kapeesh tri lok ujagar …”, a day with college, tuitions and my shop “Darbhanga Glass House”. Azaan in Maghrib.Occassional Namaz, I was not punctual then. Home with daily sabzi in night from “Gudri Bazar”, I lived multiple lives, and I enjoyed it.