Exam musings and body art

I am back after a long time.No,it is not writer's block that kept me on the hold.It was the scourge of every student's life.Yes ,no prizes for guessing -exams.

Why is that we students hate exams. It only involves writing down the answers to some questions. Surely breaking your legs or getting a nasty bump on the head is worse than writing from memory.But many people disagree,including yours truly.And as our system goes empirical evidence suggest that the the questions to be asked in the upcoming exams can be guessed pretty accurately by looking up previous question papers

And after knowing all of this,we quake in our boots, our stomachs turn somersaults and palms become sweaty!! And for many others breathing becomes more ragged. Classic smptoms of a heart attack. Don't think I am making this up. You may no longer have to sit in an exam hall but look back to those times and a involuntary shiver will run up your spine.

I have been thinking all about this since exams were over and I guess that knowing what is coming sometimes makes things more fearsome than they actually are.Fear sort of overhypes things.It is just like if we ever had to go to a village many of us city bred types would insist on drinking from mineral water bottles rather than drink the water which comes out of the village well though it does nothing to the villagers.So coming back to our original topic exams put the fear of god in us.And however much you prepare you always feel inadequate.

And at this crucial moment that part of your inner voice with the pitchfork and the pointed tail steps in. We put that good voice with the halo out of our heads and stuff it with a pillow so that it can't disturb us when we invoke our dark side and temporarily become Dr Faust.And invoking the dark side involves rituals which you have guessed by now.We prepare chits in which is written almost in microscopic letters,write on our arms and legs answers to the most likely question asked and wear full sleeved shirts to cover up the body art.Dressed to kill...err to cheat.

And how do we reconcile all this with our good selves when we release it from uhder the pillow where it has been gasping for breath. We murmer hurried protestations, swear on our favorite cricketer's head and the father,son and the holy ghost and on the whole 330 milliion gods of the Hindu pantheon that this will be the last time.

And after six months we again reach out for that pillow. And put it to dual use for the night before the big day.