Life Is What You Make It A Story Of Love, Hope And How Determination Can Overcome Even Destiny

Life Is What You Make It A Story Of Love, Hope And How Determination Can Overcome Even Destiny by Preeti Shenoy Page A

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Authors: Preeti Shenoy
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seconds.
    “ Arre. Yeh sach mein P.T. Usha nikli boss!” Joseph exclaimed.
    I walked up to Joseph and said in a quiet voice, “Don' t ever fucking doubt what I say in future? Got it?” There was an edge in my voice which was alien to me. I had no idea why I was seething and aggressive. It was as though I wanted to strike him. I could suddenly see the concern and slight fear in his eyes. Everybody was quiet. It seemed very funny and I started laughing uncontrollably. There was silence for a fraction of a second and then all of them joined in the laughter and the moment passed off as a joke. But I sensed something in me close to snapping at that point in time. But as was my usual way, I brushed it aside.
    I.T or information technology was one of the subjects in the course. We had an exam coming up soon. I studied like a maniac. I had made extensive notes again in colour. When the results came out a week later, I had topped the class. I had scored a ninety eight out of hundred. The person who came second was Uday and he had scored only seventy six. The Faculty who taught the course was very impressed with me. But I was far from happy. I kept looking at the paper and kept getting angry that I had lost two marks. It was as if I was possessed by a spirit of perfection.
    “I like your attitude. Very well done,” said Sushil Mehra, the faculty for the course. He was very young and everybody called him Sushil.
    “But Sushil, I was expecting a centum,” I said, the disappointment showing in my voice.
    “Next time, Ankita,” he smiled.
    There was to be no next time. This was the zenith, the pinnacle. There would be more mountains to climb but of a different kind. But to climb those I had to descend first.
    But before I descended I would stun everybody including myself. The chain of events that happened at the first Inter collegiate event in my new course was the backdrop to it.
    That was to come later. For now I was content and secure basking in the glory of my academic success and my daily running.

    11
    Dancing in the dark
    T he cultural festival was exactly like the numerous ones I had attended in my previous college but it was not competitive at all. It was more for fun and entertainment. Ye t it had a lot of corporate sponsors. I was told that it gave the seniors a good working experience to organise such events.
    When we entered the venue, I was dazzled by the flamboyant way it was done up. The glitter, glamour and the stylish way the compere was addressing everyone, the huge speakers and the shiny ball in the centre suspended from the ceiling which reflected disco lights, the dance floor, the stage, the corporate banners that blended in seamlessly and smoothly, were all well integrated.
    Chaya, Jigna, Uday and Joseph too were impressed. We were a little late and it had already begun. The compere was now announcing the next contest which was popularly called JAM or ‘Just a minute’.
    “You must take part in this,” Joseph said.
    The Compere was calling for entries and before I could protest to Joseph, he caught my hand and raised it high, calling out my name. She immediately announced it on the mike and I had no option but to go up on stage.
    Standing on that stage with the spotlight focussed on me I felt a strange sense of exhilaration. A million thoughts were swarming in my mind like a pack of bees whose beehive has been disturbed. I struggled to rein them in. They were floating across in hordes and my mind struggled to keep up the pace. I tried to slow down my thinking, tried to desperately make sense of what I was feeling but the more I tried the more aware I became that I couldn't. A sense of ecstatic feeling was washing over me in waves.
    I was aware of the compere now pushing a bowl towards me which held bits of paper that had the topic for JAM written on them. I took out one and opened it. It read “Clint Eastwood's drinking preference Good Vodka, Bad Martini and Ugly Rum.” I had ten seconds to compose my

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