The interview

“Good morning and welcome all to the second day of this program. I hope you are all comfortable and we shall start very soon,” Mr. Devabandhu's voice boomed across the eagerly awaiting students in the packed seminar hall. He was one of the instructors for English at Anand Niketan School of Foreign languages.

Anand Niketan School of Foreign languages was housed in the same building, as its parent organization – the Dadabhai Nowrojee College of Biological sciences. The institution was renowned for the likes of Dr. Geeta Shankaran and Late Dr. Rammadhu Kalelkar, for no one else had contributed to diagnostic medical Science more than these two combined from the state of Maharashtra (Indian state situated in middle part of India).

The English, French and German language courses were an essential part of the otherwise purely scientific curriculum, since many years at this institute now, contributed to its global appeal.

Dada (meaning Grandpa) Devabandhu, as most of them called him, fifty eight now, had taught English at Anand Niketan for more than two decades now. His style of teaching was somewhat orthodox. But he had used modern gadgets and tools, like the computer and the internet, to improve the otherwise boring classes for literature to great success.

Dada was always dressed in shades of grey. His physique was imposing at six feet six and his posture would beam of the respect and authority he commanded. Not that he was a senior lecturer at the school, but his outspokenness and immaculate dressing sense had made him a favorite amongst most, feared by some and hated by a few.

"Today, we are going to talk on interviews," he said as he walked across the podium. The huge blackboard and the white projection screen stood in contrast behind him and his slate grey suit amalgamated those two things quite nicely.

"I am going to show you footage of a candidate appearing in an interview for the post of a laboratory assistant, at our own college. Watch it carefully, as it is our starting point for today's discussions," the room went dark as he switched on the projector and dimmed the lights using the remote control in his hands. Many students were quite amazed at the deftness he showed in handling the gadgets even at his age, which was nearing sixties.

*** *** ***

The students hushed up as the film started, after creating a mini commotion while retrieving their notebooks from their backpacks. The featured room in the first scene was quite familiar to all of them. It was their exam hall No.4. The room was a fitting tribute to Roman architecture as it boasted of the huge arches and the ornate carvings on the pillars and the ceiling. The room had been redecorated to house a semicircular table for the interview committee and the temporary partition between the waiting candidates and the interview panel.

The panel was seated. The chairperson was none other than Madam Lata Shilpikar, also known as the ‘All seeing’ principal of the Dadabhai Nowrojee College. She was quite respected in community for her long and successful stint as the principal of the only Degree College in the province of Marathwada. A remote region though, Marathwada was once the forte of native warriors ‘The great Marathas’ in the early seventeenth century.

“Please be seated Mr. Devrukhe,” madam Lata said, as the young and soberly dressed candidate entered the panel area. He was wearing a plain white shirt and light brown trousers with no tie, but matching socks and well polished tan shoes. He was smiling weakly as he took his seat in the center of the U-shaped table.

“Thank you, madam. Very good afternoon to you all,” he bowed a little as he sat and placed his document file on his lap. He was serene and calm as he watched the panel members go through his profile.

“I see here that you have applied for the post of the laboratory assistant! You have a degree in Microbiology from Nagpur University, a reference from the dean of the Mohitewada Medical institute and a nationally acclaimed project report on malarial parasites in Marathwada. I think you are overqualified for this post. What I meant was that you could have got into any R&D center in the region with such credentials, then why be an assistant? Don’t you think this is below you?” one of the member said to him as few others nodded in agreement.

The candidate shifted a bit in his chair and replied in a calm tone, “Respectfully, sir I beg your pardon. In my opinion, hiring graduates for such posts, commonly occupied by non-graduates, would not only improve the quality of education, but also the learning capability of the students in the labs. I myself faced tough times in graduate school for our lone professor along with his assistant could not help us reach beyond the scope of our curriculum, often lesser.”

He then waited for a moment and studied the expressions on the faces of the members of the panel. Clearly, they were thinking hard. He continued, as his first words had hit on target, “Respected ladies and gentlemen in the panel,” he started cautiously, “If you would agree to the fact that the laboratory is where the students spend half of their study life caters to the inquisitive minds of the young. They experience the truth of the beating heart of a dissected frog, or the color of the blood when smeared onto a slide.”

He had them bound in a spell as they let him talk. “I may not be the instructor, but I could be the vigilant assistant, helping the young and the careless but sharp and hungry minds as they delve into the realm of biology,” he was feeling nervous himself, clearly seen by the crease on his forehead, if he had not spoken too much as panelists listened to him intensely.

“I may not have scored heavily in my degree exams, but I always had the interest to work in a laboratory with students, who are not afraid to try out new things and still have fun, and in a way enjoying the whole experience of experimenting. What could be better than working at one of the finest laboratories in our region with some of the finest professors of our time, not ignoring that Dr. Geeta or Dr. Rammadhu operated from the same labs?”

“You speak very passionately of this, but let me share my experience of teaching young minds,” the panelist sitting on the extreme left adjusted her glasses as she took a fleeting look at the candidate’s profile, “It is a mundane job. It may sound exciting to you but, at the end of a day, I am forced to think that ‘Hey! I think I gave similar answers to the similar queries as last year’s.’  And then it starts to get heavy and boring and one dimensional.” A psych-out question, or was it answering it self? The other members nodded and hummed their approvals.

“Madam, you are very correct in this observation. But, if I would look at in an other angle, every year, a few students ask the right questions, a few of them ask the same at the right time, a few others ask at the right place, a few others listen and absorb in the right manner while a few others are showing complete disinterest in them. It is the collection of human minds, so diverse and yet so connected, and not only the theory, or the practice of it in the labs that matters. I dream of the schools as the guiding path to realities of life, if I may not sound pompous.”

“That is quite an answer! Won’t you think that your love for human interaction can weigh you down at times?” asked one of the gentlemen, who was sitting next to the Chairperson and was most probably the vice-chairman of the committee, as hinted by the red ribbon tag on his pocket.

“Has longing for human interaction harmed any one, Sir? Yes, but to those who do not know how to set its need and its priority. I hope I will be able to manage that. I think I should take that challenge and test myself. If I fail here, which I should not, I could still apply for the jobs at research labs of the medicine companies.” And the tone of lesser enthusiasm was clearly noticeable as the candidate spoke.

“It seems you rate the JOBS as boring, or not-interesting,” quipped one fairly young panel member. “You speak as if prejudiced against such offers. You get more funds, more projects and more things to do at such places.”

“If I sound that way, I may be sub-consciously. But, I am not completely opposed to the idea. I would love to work wherever I would greet a fresh mind everyday and I am biased towards the schools for this matter.” The candidate smiled a bit as he said this and a few panel members smiled too.

“If you permit, can I have some water please?” he asked and took a few gulps from the glass brought to him by the office helper boy, who was sitting at the corner of the room, who would be silently listening to interviews all day long.

“Well! That would be it, Mr. Devrukhe,” the chairperson aid after some consultation with her colleagues. “Thank you for coming. And I must say, never, have I interviewed a more interesting candidate,” she said as all of them nodded and smiled in unison.

“The pleasure was mine, madam,” he bowed a little again before rising from his chair, “Good day, to all of you and if I may take your leave.” He left the panel area giving a final look at the decorative stone carvings on the ceiling of the area, as the office boy escorted him out. The next candidate was waiting near the receptionist’s desk, waiting for the call bell to ring.

*** *** ***

The seminar hall brightened and the film scene blurred out. The students started discussing the scene. Mr. Devabandhu was busy in shutting down the projector and this gave everyone a chance to brace themselves for his questions.

“So, what might you do as a panelist? You, gentleman in the third row, second seat,” he asked in his typical manner, never naming anyone and identifying the students by their seat numbers.

“Sir, I would not hire him,” was the reply. Many turned to look at the person who just disqualified, what they thought, was destined to become the greatest lab assistant of all times.

“And why would you do that? He answered the questions with fantastic consequences,” Mr. Devabandhu quipped back. Everyone turned towards the student, clearly seen by many as the villain of the moment.

“Sir, I would rather offer him the job of a guest lecturer, if I would be the chairman. He does not deserve to serve under the curriculum-bound professors,” the student answered and this sent a sudden shock wave across the hall. Every one agreed to this secretly but speaking in front of the professor himself! They admired the student’s courage, foolish at first they had thought, but true.

“Very well students, would you like to know what happened to Mr. Devrukhe?” asked Mr. Devabandhu and the students were very interested indeed.

“He was appointed to our college as a guest lecturer for microbiology and subsequently inducted as honorary member of the curriculum revision team in the Marathwada University after completing six years of his distinguished service to our college. I think you knew him by any chance, row three, second seat?”

Every one faced the student. “Sorry sir, but I have never been his student till date.” He answered and he was sounding disappointed. So was everyone else.

“Yes, you may not have seen him also. He died four years ago. He was my good friend. He died of multiple organ failure, because of malaria P. Falciperum. He remained a true gem of a teacher till the end. Pity, the doctors could not detect the disease at an early stage. I would miss him and so would his thousands of students who would have been, and who were.” The room was so silent that each and every tiny noise was audible. There were a few coughs and noises of pen scratching the notebook surfaces.

“You can see his portrait being hung in all the galleries of our Exam halls. You may not have noticed till now, but please take sometime to read the short note scribed at the bottom of the portrait.” Mr. Devabandhu said slowly as he increased the intensity of lights in the room using the remote control. He continued, “There was no technical question in the interview, nothing at all related to what the committee was prepared to ask and even though the candidate was rejected, the committee found a fitting role for him.”

“Do not consider that you are being judged only across the table, or based upon the exam results. You are judged every instant of your stay in your school, your college, a company you enter to appear for an interview or anywhere. Never waste even a second of your precious time doing something which may not improve you in any way.” Mr. Devabandhu had written this last sentence in block letters across the black board. “Your home work for today is to prepare your introductory speech for an interview. And be original. If you speak the truth, however harsh it may sound at first, it will pay off nicely in the end.”

“With this, I leave you to your thoughts. Good day children and be prepared for another session, same time tomorrow.” Dada waved once at everyone as he left the seminar hall amidst loud discussions about the interview everyone had witnessed.

***
THE END