It’s 10:00 AM already, and I’m late for the exam. It feels weird to be back in exam mode. You know how you get that sinking feeling just before walking into the exam because you don’t know anything about the subject? I thought I’d left that feeling behind when I finished my Engineering, but apparently, its a feeling you carry for life. It’s like learning a bicycle – You never forget it.

Today’s exam is Marketing. Marketing is one of those subjects where you never know what the hell is happening in class. We had a text book prescribed to us – The infamous Kotler, for those in the know – but on the first day of class, our prof said that he’d never liked the text book, and he recommended we NOT waste our time reading it.

The Prof saying the recommended text book is of no use. That’s new. I wish all of our Engineering Profs had come to this realization.

Even without a text book to do last-minute mugging from, the familiar exam-hall scene doesn’t disappoint. There are scores of people reading through some printouts and notes, trying desperately to grasp on to the subject – to get hold of something that sounds familiar, but no use. It’s like a drowning man in the middle of the sea, desperately splashing about trying to get hold of something to float on to, but finding nothing. And you all know what happens to the man next – He drowns into the vast ocean, which has euphemistically been called the ocean of knowledge. If you drown into an ocean, even if it is the one of knowledge, isn’t that a bad thing? ‘Cause you’re drowning for god’s sake! How can that be a good thing?

Anyway, we enter the exam hall. The Question Paper is sitting right in front of me. Everyone in the room is tensed, even more so because this is an open book exam. We’re allowed to bring in any textbook/notes/reference material into the exam, but all of us know what that means – The answers are not going to be in any text book. That makes matter worse.

“You may begin” the TA announces, and I gingerly open the exam booklet. ‘Please let me understand the first question. Please let me at least know what the question means’ – I utter my silent prayer to myself.

And then there it is – The first question. Just as I finish reading it, I feel the sudden juxtaposition of fear and humor. That feeling where you don’t know whether to laugh or to cry – to smile or to bang your head against the desk.

“How will you go about selling razor blades in Afghanistan? Discuss.”

The Prof wants us to sell razor blades in a country where beards are all the rage. And that too when a large percentage of the population has not brushed their teeth EVER, let alone heard of toothpaste. How am I supposed to sell razor blades to these bearded tribesmen? The best use they have for razor blades is probably to shave their sheep and goats. And I haven’t heard of goats trying to shave.

This is just awesome. I spend the next 10 minutes staring at the ceiling, because, well, there was nothing better to do.

Since I don’t want to leave the exam paper blank, I go to the extent of recommending selling razors to women – I had to write SOMETHING – to help penetrate the Afghan razor market. After the exam is over we all sit and discuss the paper. No one knows what’s going to come of it, but at the end of the day, it was fun.

I hope I get marks for my handwriting at least. Not because my handwriting is good, but because it is so bad that he won’t understand what’s written and give me the benefit of the doubt. That’s my only chance!

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