Weekend cries !

And finally Friday ended. Not the way I would have liked to, but it did end ! Friday's always a welcome day at B-school, albeit different reasons for different people. Some like to hang out with their friends, having escaped from the rigors of an 8.00 am submission the next day. Some like to study the week's portions, anticipating a test the next week. Some people are still more paranoid, studying the next week's portions ahead of schedule, so as to be prepared for a test in the next-to-next week.

And there are people like me. Who dread the next morning's exam on managerial communication, and who do not neglect its importance because, after all, it's a two - credit course.

Not because we're overly bothered about topping the class. But just because this is our last attempt to salvage pride. Pride of being in B-school, pride of clearing CAT, pride of a thousand things. So the Friday goes off, fairly unproductive, save mugging the format of a business proposal (if I remember, the text's exact words were - "Though the importance of marriage/divorce proposals cannot be undermined, the textbook shall limit its scope to academic and business proposals. ")

Saturday morning. I wake up to the sound of the paper dropping on my doorstep. And to the stifling odor of Good-night spreading through the fan-less room slaughtering a thousand mosquitoes in its wake. So much for all the malarial paranoia. In all earnestness, I wipe my whiteboard clean and write down all that's pending over the term. All submissions, tests, exams. Even the biz-fest events that I've committed to participate in, God only knows why. I sit back with a smile, not unlike the way Saif Ali Khan sits watching his dad and sis's pictures on a wall coated with Asian paints. (that's a popular Indian ad for those who are still wondering if I've gone nuts).

Then I suddenly remember that the exam's at 2.00 pm and sit down to study. Reminders of how I used to practice "Formal Letter" and "Informal letter" in class VI come flowing in. Why, oh why, is it so hard now ? It used to be so unbelievably easy back then. English was a subject that made you earn brownie marks and raise your average if you did badly in Social studies or something. Now, it's the other way round.

Amid such thoughts, and more, I manage to complete the exam. We receive our feedback at the end of the exam, and a chilling shudder goes up the spine of men who hitherto considered themselves gods. Some people did badly. Some did worse. But the chosen few, who did cross 70, jumped their way back to the hostel. And I, was not among them. Yet another "Aam aadmi" exam.

Saturday night ends on the same ambitious note as the morning began. Only this time, the list on the whiteboard gets longer, as your neighbors ungenerously remind you that you've overlooked three or four tests and the resume verification due next week.

Sunday morning finally arrives. It's probably a time for celebration, you think. But with the grim feeling that the grades dished out the previous day, you decide that the final presentation in Managerial communication that is due Tuesday, deserves more respect and effort than you envisaged it would. Especially since it's now your only chance to gain any leeway in this subject, and all your life you've claimed to have the proverbial gift of the gab. A line from "Snapshots from Hell" comes to mind - "Strangle weaknesses. Strengthen opportunities."

And then Parkinson's law takes its toll. Work expands to fill the time available to complete it. You never know how time flies. It's 2.30 pm, you've missed lunch because your friends tell you the food in the mess is pathetic, and anyway there's just too much rush with all the exchange foreigners coming in. So we order food from outside, and somehow you're never happy with the quality of the food. The grass, as they say, is always greener on the other side of the fence.

You return to your desk to find that your presentation is nowhere near completion. An exaggerated sense of urgency grips you, and your fingers tap away on the laptop till they're comfortably numb. Finally at around 10 pm, the P.P.T.'s done, and you lean back with a sense of accomplishment. "Substantial", as my neighbor would call it. You turn around, and you see the whiteboard in a position where you can rub nothing off your list. The same list that gave you pride and inspiration last morning, now gives you a sense of revulsion mixed with cynical philosophy. Stomach wildly heavy with the naans and rotis that you hogged for lunch, you just crash onto the bed, with nothing to fight for.

Monday morning arrives, and you realize you're no better off than Friday. If anything, you're probably worse off. If you've honestly been reading this putting yourself in my shoes whenever I wrote 'you' instead of 'I' or 'me', you'll understand what a weekend at B-school is.

Unenviable, says Collins, is the right word.