FROM A LAST-MINUTE GENIUS TO A FULL-TIME MENTOR : HOW OVERCONFIDENCE MELTS FASTER THAN ICE-CREAM

Back in school and college, I was what you might call an efficient student, I’d study for a couple of days before exams, sail through with average marks, and still believe I was a born genius. The “bookworms” who slogged all year for state ranks were, in my view, missing out on the finer joys of life, fun, movies, and mischief.

A few friends shared my philosophy, until the SSLC results arrived. That’s when I discovered that some of the “fun-loving” ones had also managed state-level ranks, while I had merely managed to stay comfortably average.

Luckily, my admission to PUC was automatic since it was the same school, so I didn’t yet feel the sting that others faced. But the same story continued in college: my academic graph stayed horizontal while my extra-curricular curve soared happily upward. When the results came, my smarter friends moved into engineering and medicine, and I was left behind, clutching my memories and my ‘same-school advantage’ that got me a B.Sc. seat my marks didn’t deserve.

With that track record, post-graduation was a distant dream, the top three got in, and I wasn’t even on the waiting list.

THE REDEMPTION PROJECT

Thirteen years younger, my brother became the unfortunate recipient of my “wisdom.” Having mastered the art of academic shortcuts, I was determined that he wouldn’t repeat my mistakes.

I drafted hourly timetables so detailed that they could’ve powered an ISRO launch, my plan was for him to finish his entire syllabus in the first quarter, leaving the next three for revision. Poor fellow, he had to live with my constant supervision, marathon review sessions, and motivational speeches on time management.

By the time he reached Class 10, I had enrolled him in every IIT coaching centre. Each institute came with its own truckload of study material. I was convinced that with my relentless guidance, IIT was a done deal. The only pending decision was which discipline to pick,  because, obviously, Computer Science was the only one that “made sense.”

THE ICE-CREAM ENLIGHTENMENT 

When he was in Class 12, three-quarters through the year, I was already plotting how he could finish the IIT entrance with perfect time management,  attempting all five questions even if the instructions said “any three.” That was the level of my “involvement.”

My brother, a quiet and disciplined boy, had a tall, six-foot-four tabla-playing, badminton-loving extrovert for a friend,  whose father, conveniently, was a professor at IISc. Perfect company, I thought, a friend who would also be his IIT study partner.

One evening, I took the two of them to Mac Fast Food on Church Street. Feeling indulgent, I ordered the PYRAMID, a grand ice-cream tower of five scoops, along with finger chips. As we dug in, we began chatting about school, exams, and IIT.

The conversation soon veered to their preparation. My brother, usually reserved, began to open up. “IIT is tough,” he admitted. “Agarwal and Brilliant add to the load. At school, they want us to focus on the CBSE board, and if anyone’s caught attending outside classes, they’re punished or even suspended. The pressure is crazy.”

I gave him a patient hearing, then slipped into full problem-solving mode, ready with my ready-made wisdom.

That’s when his tall friend calmly took over. With the poise of a debate champion, he began,  “IIT selection depends on both board marks and the entrance test. State board students score higher in their boards, so they’ll have an advantage. If we focus only on IIT, we might lose out on local college admissions.”

My confident assumption, that IIT preparation automatically boosts board scores,  began to evaporate faster than the ice-cream.

He went on, “There’s also a chance that if we focus on IIT, we might clear the entrance but fail a couple of CBSE papers. What do you think we should focus on?”  I was stunned. I quickly gulped down all three glasses of water on the table.

Then, using my trademark decision-making skills, I ordered another round of ice-cream for the boys,  and two more glasses of water for myself.  

By now, they had me fully hooked. Finally, they asked, “If we give up on IIT and just focus on state colleges, we’ll get in easily, right?”

I agreed solemnly, “Absolutely. Focus on the sure thing."

Both nodded in satisfaction. The second round of ice-cream arrived, and as they cheerfully dug in, I sat back and realised, that’s how my IIT dreams crashed, with reality getting the better of me than my redemption project.



Stories, not instructions. Experiences, not advice—medical or otherwise. Data, only what the internet quietly gathers anyway. Proceed with equal parts curiosity and common sense.

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