After Math

Distinction in school. Double Major in Math & Physics. Dream of a flying career in the Air Force.

She had successfully done her solo in gliding (winch-operated glider). TheWing Commander (NCC Air Wing, 2 TN Batalion) knew she was good at it, encouraged her to become a fighter pilot and helped her with the preparations. Her senior who had succeeded, also gave her some tips. She had the NCC 'C' Certificate, which was an added advantage.

There were only 3 centres for the PABT (Pilot Aptitute Battery Tests) - Mysore, Varanasi and Dehradun. Though she had opted for Mysore because it was closer home, she was allocated Varanasi as her exam centre. Her family, relatives, friends, classmates, fans (yeah, she had a huge fan following at the University), lecturers to the Chancellor, fellow NCC cadets, Wing Commander, Squadron Leader and more or less the whole of the city geared up for the day when the lady fighter pilot would return with her badge, beaming. One of her friends was going to Mysore to attempt the PABT. They exchanged their good lucks and went their way. Her dad accompanied her, because Varanasi was not familiar territory. It was a long journey, from Coimbatore (in Tamil Nadu) to Varanasi (in Uttar Pradesh), by train.

The hippie culture in Varanasi still existed. There were rickshaw pullers and mule-carts. There was chaos and dirt. Dope and dreams. They found a decent place to stay for the night. The next morning, they headed for the exam centre. There were more than 185 aspiring pilots, from North, South, East and West. The accompanying family members / friends were asked to return to their place of stay. Completely organized and disciplined, the whole process. Candidates were split into groups of three and allotted rooms where they were allowed to settle down. A girl from Orissa (daughter of a high ranking Air Force Officer) and another girl from Haryana were her roommates. Breakfast was served at the Canteen. Then they were asked to assemble in the gallery for a briefing.

First there was to be a Written test (On basic Air Craft Instrument reading), and candidates selected in the Written test would have to go through the Machine test (To judge if the candidate can control simple joy stick and rudder controls). A candidate was allowed to take this test only once in his/her lifetime. Failure in PABT test permanently debars the candidate from appearing for flying branch. And, there would be Physical tests, Medical tests, Group discussions and Interview.

She was excited and looking forward to giving it her best shot. The written test results were announced. Only 20 out of 185 had made it. She was one of them. The other candidates were sent back home, dejected. The twenty 'proud' candidates proceded to take the Battery test.

It was pretty much like a video game parlour. Two different machines. One had a steering wheel which worked just like the ones in a car. There was a moving lead shot and grooves that were placed in a zig-zag lane. The task was to use the steering wheel to veer the lead shot into each of the grooves. Each groove fetched a point. There was a time limit. She was good behind the wheels and was confident on getting this one right.

The second one was quite like an inside of a cockpit with a screen that had a small square and an outer square, a joy stick, 2 rudder pedals under the feet and a lever on the arm of the chair. There was a moving spot of light. The task was to use the joystick and pedals to focus the light within the smaller square which fetched more points than the bigger square. There would be occasional beeps (deliberate distractions) which had to be silenced using the lever on the left arm of the chair. She had maneuvered a glider with ease and found it way too easy, made a mathematical calculation in the mind and came out smiling.

The candidates discussed among themselves their performance. A punjabi girl candidate (who also had a solo wing in gliding) was the one other candidate who was just as confident. All candidates were called to the Gallery. An Officer started 'We are disappointed with the results this year. Only 2 out of the 20 candidates have made it through the Machine test, who will stay with us for the rest of the selection tests...'. There was a lump in her throat, but she was still smiling. Roll number of one candidate was called out. It wasn't her, nor the Punjabi girl's. It was some guy's, who seemed surprised himself. He was son of so-and-so in the Army.

Her heart was now beating in her ear and she could hardly hear anything. The second roll number was called. Thud, she landed on the ground. It wasn't hers. It was the Orissa roomie's. The Orissa girl had said that she had barely scraped through the written test and had no hope of getting through the machine test, because she couldn't really figure out how it worked. She was daughter of so-and-so in the Air Force.
She (back to the protogonist of this 'real' story) was disappointed. She hadn't tasted failure. It tasted bitter. She didn't like it one bit. Her mind was racing at supersonic speed. What next, since there was no second shot! She got out of the hall to see her father waiting for her. No words between them. The emotions were running high. Dad tried to make small talk, console her. But she was lost in thought. The journey back was tough and seemed to take forever. She had to get back home with nothing, just a shattered ego and nothing more left of the dream. The aftermath was tough to handle. She wasn't ready for this. But nothing would jerk the tear out of her eyes.

There wasn't going to be a flying career, unless of course she wanted to consider getting a CPL (Commercial Pilot License). Her Wing Commander gave her a choice between CPL (50% sponsored by NCC) and Air Force SSC (Short Service Commission) Officer. But she was dejected. She wanted to be a fighter pilot and had failed. She suspected if there was some favouritism / bias, because it just didn't add up how she could have failed. She had made her decision. She shot down the option to get into the Air Force. She heard there were many pilots with CPL in their hands and no job, so she ruled out that option too.

She was at the crossroads. No more of Math or Physics she had decided. She didn't want to be an academician nor a scientist nor a researcher. She met her friend who had attempted PABT at Mysore. She didn't make it either. By sheer coincidence, they both chose advertising. They did their Post Graduation in Advertising & Communication Management. A soaring career in advertising took her to greater heights. The aftermath wasn't too bad afterall. God has His ways! She can now fly a jet plane with her feet on the ground :)

I am 16, going on 16+17

At 16, I thought the world was all about me. I felt very important, and I was actually considered quite mature for a teenager. I didn’t worry about trivial things. I was the happy-go-lucky kind, happy with life and everything around. Maybe I was lucky after all, because there were kids with real problems. I didn’t have any cares in this world. Just home, school, family, friends…and of course, the all important ‘me’.

At 16+4, a Math & Physics graduate, aiming to be a fighter pilot in the Indian Air Force, but as destiny would have it otherwise, I was lost at the crossroads, wondering which way the life-full-of-promises was awaiting me. Advertising. A marked deviation from Science obviously, but I couldn’t imagine myself as an academician or a scientist, and I thought the only other thing that I could do was write. So I set out. I had to do something after all, coz there was no such thing as a free meal!

At 16+8, I was an accomplished copywriter, on my own two feet. A few of us got together to start up an ad agency. The very first year saw a huge turnover. Then one fine day, it so happened that one of the lead guys got an assignment abroad (a call from his previous agency which he couldn’t refuse), another guy – a printing engineer got an appointment as professor in a reputed institution (he would have been a fool if he’d turned it down), one lady had to join her family who had just then moved to Dubai (again, no choice there) and then myself…well, I got married (the timing couldn’t have been better, or I would have perhaps been at the crossroads again!). Each of us went our own way. The success story came to an abrupt end. (The agency was open for a couple of years after that, but finally wound up, is what I heard). I wasn’t the typical ‘stay-at-home, cook-and-clean-for-pati (husband)’ patni (wife), but my hubby wasn’t the typical pati either. He gave me my space. I gave him his. And we shared a space that was truly special.

At 16+10, I was working on big brands in an Ad Agency in Bombay. Then, I had my first baby. For a year I stayed at home and enjoyed the just-turned-mother phase thoroughly. I continued working from home though (man, was I raking in the moolah!). But I was already pining to get back to full time work! With a baby in my arms, I heard school and college kids referring to me as “aunty”! Mama was fine, but “aunty” was something I was yet to get used to!

At 16+12, I moved down south with family. Worked hard, partied harder. Bought a house. We were on the fine line, balancing work and home. But found quality time, however sparse, to spend with family. I used to cook back then. And it showed. My husband lost a good 8-10 kilos and I was ‘skinny legs and all’. I got used to “aunty”, grrrr…udgingly.

At 16+15, I had my second baby. Not an easy pregnancy, I must tell you. A hiatus of 3 months from work. At home, enjoying the mother-again phase. It felt nice every time the baby smiled. I coochy-cooed, giggled and played with her. Felt like a baby myself. However, the career woman had to get back to work after the maternity leave, leaving the poor child sucking on lactogen. Youngsters fresh out of college were showing up at work. A good ‘decade’ younger than I. I realize I’m now full time “patni”, “mama”, “ma’am” and “aunty”, but enjoying every single responsibility fully well.

At 16+17, here I am, singing ‘I am 16, going on 16+17’ (Remember Sound of Music?). My kids help keep the child in me alive. I still feel as good as 16. Though now my world means – My kids, hubby, the rest of my family & friends, myself, and then anybody else who matters to me in this world, in that precise order!

I remember, when I was about 22 years old, I thought 28 was old. When I was 28, I thought 32 was old. But now I’m thinking, ‘old’ is only in the ‘thinking’. If you think you are young, you are forever young. That reminds me of my all time favourite song - Bob Dylan’s ‘May you stay forever young’.

“May your hands always be busy,
May your feet always be strong,
May you stay…forever young!”

Survivor's Guide

Sometimes it takes a bit more than smart copy and hard work to keep your job and move up the ladder. Here are a few tips:
1. No cliches or jargons please - Do not follow the conventions or what others have set to follow, per se.
2. Use 'polished' terms or words that add that extra 'finesse' to whatever it is that you are doing [eg: Say 'Approach Note' instead of 'Plan'; 'Concept' instead of 'Idea']
3. When you present something, package it differently, better still, add a flourish [Whether it is verbal or written] - Eg. For a logo demo, include a rationale and put it up as a powerpoint presentation; When you come up with a brand name, put on an accent (anglicized) - it makes it sound good.

More tips coming soon....