I’m back, after spending my day in the worst way imaginable. What FIITJEE did was not just illogical and pointless, but spitefully mean. It’s fine, if they want the world to think they’re magnanimous for being the first ones to “support talent”, but by making a test that was so gratuitously hard that any talented guy who took it would shortly find himself demoralized to obscurity, they only showed how low they could go to get what they wanted. FIITJEE Delhi hasn’t given us much reason to believe in its ability to judge. The FIITJEE system in general has shown itself to be incapable of coordination. If they wanted to have an all-India test at all, then the least they could have done by way of at least PRETENDING to be professional was to make sure all of its branches had reached the same stage in the course. By not doing that, and then by expecting people from the Hyderabad branch to happily waste a perfectly good Sunday in taking a test in which a third of the topics hadn’t been covered for them, and afterwards tell the newspapers how helpful it was, they’re shamelessly proclaiming their obsession with false advertising, unearned money, and self-destructive publicity. If the test and the circumstances under which it was to be taken were inevitable, they should have at least not named it the “FIITJEE Talent Support Exam”, which gave people the impression that they were some kind of Guardian Angels out to make sure every IIT-aspirant’s dream came true, because the intention was clear as day: Their goal wasn’t to support talent; it was to destroy it.
The Subject Tests, on the other hand, went rather well, provided I didn’t make stupid mistakes on the math and physics tests, as I have a tendency to do, even when I think I’m thinking clearly. Losing a shot at 800 because I misread the question, or missed some essential information, would be unacceptable. The Literature test, on the other hand, was pretty messy. I understand that people are expected to analyze obscure 17th century romance poems – which were probably never published, even when their authors were alive – drab, sentimental contemporary works, and the occasional boring play, and answer questions about them that the authors themselves might not have conceived of – all within the span of one hour. But would it hurt to be at least a little more generous with the scoring? After being put through that hackneyed romance poem about the country girl who fell in love with the town guy, and failing spectacularly to be impressed by it, I think I’m entitled to a refund.
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