Education or Corruption

Debayan Das Mohan sighed behind the long queue of students. The weather was sultry itself and as the storm brew overhead and the thunder roared out of hunger, Mohan could feel the sweat trickle down his face. He carefully wiped the little bit of sweat that had dropped on his documents- he did not want to waste this opportunity for a mere bleach of the papers. 2 years of continuous pain and labour was about to bear fruit now. He painfully remembered about the day his mother died out of extreme fatigue in cleaning the floors of the upper -class people- how his father saved coin after coin after selling fruits at the local market and putting their small house on mortgage to collect money for his education- for Mohans education, their only child- heir to a house made of a few broken bricks and smaller than a kitchen. How he had relentlessly studied each day and night and managed to crack the entrance exam. His father wants him to become an engineer and be successful in life- now after 8 years since his mothers death, his father will finally smile!

Mohans thoughts were interrupted with a loud screeching sound. A huge black car (Mohan saw something like BM* written but could not make out the name properly) with a heavy bass music pulled in front of the office. Mohan hadnt realized that he had reached the front of the line when he heard his name being called out. He darted forward, cleared his throat and saw from the corner of his eye of a boy about his age and smoking a cigarette getting down from the car.

The man behind the desk did not appear to Mohan to be a learned man. However he pays him the due respect his father had taught him and stands, for it was against his courtesy to sit without permission. Suddenly, the other boy from the car came and sat down on the chair without any hesitation. This seemed pretty rude to Mohan and he was about to object when he saw the man looking at the new boys documents. Mohan noticed that the other boy had 55% written in bold on the top of his documents. Mohan mentally chuckled and glanced at his 90%. The man then asked for Mohans documents and was about to shake his hand with Mohan when he suddenly stopped. The other boy was doing

something weird. He had taken out a large wad of what seemed to be notes from his expensive bag and was thrusting them into the mans hands. The man reconsidered for a moment and then took Mohans documents and returned it back to him with a sad face. But immediately his expression changed as he shook the hands of the other boy warmly and asked him which stream he would prefer. A guard came and ushered Mohan out from the room.

Mohan was puzzled and shocked as he made his 8km journey back home on foot. Why had the man opted for the worse boy? Was it for the money he had offered? Was money of such importances? Does intelligence even matter nowadays? Is it a crime to be poor? Will boys like him continue to be a victim of corruption? All these questions haunted Mohans thoughts as the thunder roared the loudest and it started pouring heavily!

Mohans father was waiting in front as his son returned home. So are we getting a new home my Son? his father beamed at him. No Baba! Mohan replied as the cold rain washed away the tears streaming from Mohans cheeks, but we are surely losing this one!