Crossing The i's And Dotting The t's

(VII) Consequential Motivation

The worst thing about perfection is that it can never be achieved. It can only be chased.

We work hard for it, burning the midnight oil, or rather, as the twenty first century version states, abstaining from using the wi-fi.

But the moment we move even close to it, our entire definition of perfection changes, to become something even better. Perfection for the seven year old me was to achieve first division in my Kathak dance practical. When I got that, I no longer cared, for my eyes were on the glittering trophy in the Capital Talent Hunt.

Perfection for the fifteen year old me was to achieve good enough marks for getting science. Suffice to say it changed the minute I actually got science, for then I wanted to achieve perfect marks in my chosen stream.

However, now I am stuck. And I wish it was because of a change in definition yet again. But no, it was the result of my incompetance to fulfill my previous definition.

If I failed, at a point which was below the first level of success, what are the odds that I would actually succeed? In life that is.

It was the worst feeling ever. A sense of failure with a tablespoon of low confidence along with two tablespoons of self pity and garnished by a pinch of insecurity. Toss them and mix well and voila! Your miserable morning breakfast is complete.

For good measure, add liberal amounts of the jelly of materialistic horrors to taste. It was a hellish concotion of an acne breakout, oozing oil from every pore, shredding eyebrows and hair so rough it felt like sandpaper.

If the breakfast still wasn't enough, couple it with a handful of disappointed stares from your mother and teacher in the PTM the same morning, and you'll surely feel miserable.

"What does this mean madam?" ma had asked.

"Don't worry, you won't be detained just because of this. The final result is made by taking a forty-sixty ratio of the first and second term results. You have to score more than forty marks in theory next time and you'll be good to go. It's not a surprised that so many students failed, it always happens in class eleventh. But I didn't expect you to be among those Ashiana."

My head was hung. Ma didn't say anything but her silence spoke volumes.

The ride back home was heavily silent, of course. After parking the car, my mother turned to me.

"Don't be like that," her voice was stern.

"What?" I looked up.

She took a deep breath, "It doesn't matter, this report card," she said, waving the cardboard in question. "You would work hard, I know you would and then you'd forget everything about this damn result."

"But I failed."

"Sweetie, everyone fails. Not just in school but generally, in life. I'm sorry to break this to you but this certainly is not going to be your last failure. So, back straight, chin up, I do not want you crying over this piece of paper," she said, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear, "besides, your father, like always, is right," she finished, smiling softly.

My thoughts turned back to my papa. He had seen the report card, shrugged, and simply stated that it was just a result, nothing to worry about.

Maybe I was exaggerating.

{[]}

"Okay Ash that was right but you took fifteen minutes in solving the question. Let's try this one."

It was a week later and Vivaan, true to his words, was helping me with Newton's worst, I mean best, gift to mankind __forces.