That space between the lines

I was in a dilemma, a big dilemma. (Though when I look back, it looks quite insignificant, such are the illusions of time).

I had qualified for one of the better business schools in the country, after a half-hearted, half year of preparation. Now I had two options – the usual ones, take it or leave it. I could have taken the golden option, be content with the great education and opportunity - it was after all a great institution, though not Ivy League. Or take my chances and try writing the exam yet again the next year – with the additional risk of failing altogether. It was not everyday that one aced perhaps one of the toughest entrance exams in the world, statistically speaking in terms of success ratio.

It was at this point that I decided to reach out to the director of the training institute I used to go to. He was a paunchy fellow, with an ever-present smile, that made it easier to ask the hardest questions.

It was a wet spring evening as I entered the Camac Street office in Calcutta and went straight for his room. He knew me, my fame having improved after my recent success. But one look at my face, and his experience started speaking, ‘You are not happy, are you Ayan?’

‘I am extremely confused, Sir,’ I replied diffidently.

Silence, and he continued to work out his mind-reading, as if casting some Legilimency spell in a Potteresque world. ‘You don’t want to take the offer, do you? I shook my head

‘And yet, you are afraid forsaking it!’

Nods, this time.

‘You have any idea how many people in the country would fall into a fit to swap places with you right now?’ I gave a flat pouty face, as he continued dissecting my mind with surgical precision, giving me answers I already knew but failed to extract in the right order.

‘And yet you hesitate, because perhaps something inside you tells that you have it in you to go for the bigger kill. It is a difficult position, I agree, but tell me, how much did you really prepare this year?’

‘I started quite late but accelerated a lot in the last months.’

‘Then you can definitely do much better, but you need to continue with the hard work – discipline, diligence and dedication and you will make it to the top 4 next year for sure!’

He had solved my problem with the 3Ds of his curriculum, and plonked on his revolving chair, hands on the back of his head, having saved the world. Perhaps he had not realised that a fourth D was still playing havoc in my mind – Doubt.

‘There are a few issues Sir,’ I continued.

He nodded. Of course, he saw it coming and smilingly concluded, ‘There’s never enough time…’

I got a bit annoyed, to be honest. How would he understand the ardour of delivering a 10-crore turnover that was my target that year? It was serious nation-building stuff, my work contributing to raise a steel plant in Vizag. Of course, the price had to be heavy as well – long hours were getting longer. Alas, a day had but 24 hours!

‘Actually, work is becoming more demanding, given I am becoming more ingrained in my work. It will be more difficult to keep working on my lessons every day. I am not sure if I can persist and better my success.’

He smiled, then got up and walked up to me, opening one of the windows to the room that immediately brought in a sweep of rain-drenched freshness. ‘I am not sure if this will reassure you or discourage you, but let me speak from experience, that there will be candidates who will have more rigorous work hours than yours this year, and yet, will perform better than you.’

I fell quiet, as he continued.

‘Time is something you will need to manage, not just for the next year for your exam preparation but for years thereon. Do you have any idea of the syllabus in the MBA curriculum? The endless stream of reports and assignments you will need to submit? And what of job thereafter? You think a post MBA job will be easier and less demanding than anything you are doing right now? More workload and stress – the curve keeps climbing my friend, and let’s not even start talking about work and family in the chapter thereafter.’

As the words began to hit, he toned down and picked up a Tolstoy from the nearest cabinet, and opened a random page, showing me the blurry lines in blotted ink on a dull-grey page.

‘Look at this page, it is crammed with lines that makes it a pain to read at times. Yet, no matter how packed the lines are, there is always some space between them. Take any page from any book in the world, this rule goes unviolated. Same is the case with every day. No matter how bad the job, how lopsided the work-life balance, there is that space in between your must-dos. And that space belongs to you, and you alone! How people use it, consciously or sub-consciously, is up to them. But once you recognise it, you will admit there is still some time left, maybe just 15 minutes in a day – but imagine what 15 minutes of daily tool sharpening can lead to in one year! The truth is, you will always find time to complete the things you want to do, no matter how busy the day is….’

Reflecting on the profundity on what I had just heard, I look at the blurred lines … and slowly they warp in time and space.

As I look back today, I realise it was one of the most powerful lessons I had ever learnt, that the busiest man has the most time.

Yes, I wrote the exam again the next year, struggled with work and my lessons, but made time enough to get a better score, and with that, a better institution. Then came the rigour of a two year program, where staying awake all night for assignments became everyday parlance, then followed the life of a jet setting consultant, the chapters go on and on…but in every stage, those words of the director – a true mentor – keep inspiring me. To write poetry after a tiring day at work, to tune my photos even after endless hours of household chores, or to write something while staying awake till 3 am on a Saturday morning.

It need not be for the outside world to see, but it is all yours to grab and hold onto, that last refuge of a busy mind, that last space to be yourself in a world that prefers masquerades, that last whiff of rain-washed freshness…

…that space between the lines…

 

13^th June, 2020