A person who spends years of their life teaching seems to gain a remarkable ability to erase any hints of doubt in a person's mind; an ability not limited to their area of expertise, and irrespective of the strength of their conviction and understanding of the matter. Although it's hard to find any apparent correlation between solving a physics problem and convincing a student they've made the right decision, there must be one, for the coaching industry has gotten both down to an exact science.

The billboards plastered across the streets, the photos and names squeezing through each inch, struggling to breathe amidst the constant onslaught of a neverending rank list of an institute scrambling to showcase their success, is enough for even the most passionate science-hating student to question whether their resentment was a mere misunderstanding. None of the students joining would have any doubts in their mind of success; if anything, the only thing to be decided was which corner your photo would be. Everyone joining a coaching institute knows that it guarantees victory; follow their steps and you're ensured a place in a premier institute. It's as simple as that. Of course, It just so happens that the vast majority attending these places are incapable of doing so; A logical explanation of why most fail. If only they had the nation's finest! They would've gotten them into the nation's finest colleges in no time. Alas! Such is life.

From one picture to another, a boy stood staring at the billboards from the gateway to the institute he was going to join. He stood there for several minutes, eyeing each person with admiration. He felt everyone there was a kindred spirit; fuelled by a sense of tribal admiration, akin to one commonly inflicted on fans of a sports club. He projected himself onto their shoes; imagined the faces poorly cropped onto a template cut out of a body was his, and felt a great sense of pride for them, however misplaced it might've seemed. But at the same time, he felt a grave sense of responsibility rising. By joining the institute, he had been passed an invisible baton; the legacy of the institute. Through their achievements, they had proved it possible; now the only thing remaining was to show it. When the next students show up to join the place, they should look at his face with the same reverence he now had. This was something he was ready to work for. Decisions are always easy when you're guaranteed success. At that moment, he believed he was; he hadn't even glanced below to the bottom of the board where the 3-digit ranks lay. The 4 digit ranks hadn't even crossed his mind; he only had the deepest sympathies for those poor souls who had to suffer that fate.

With the confidence that all his apprehensions were at ease, he stepped towards the chai walla on the side street. "Cheta, tea". It's incredible what a little reassurance can do to a person. Normally apprehensive of everything, the boy felt he was compelled to say every word as they came, each one he spoke furthering his self-assurance with the confidence of saying the right thing. "New admission, ah?" the chai walla smiled, his half-rhetoric question a reliable conversation starter customary at that time of the year. The boy nodded shyly; his confidence wasn't yet strong enough to mask the uneasiness he felt about having to figure out the way he would traverse an impending academic discussion with a person far less experienced in it. "Been here abou' 5 years and I'll tell ya this--can't find a better institute anywhere else. If ya put in the work like they say, you're definitely gonna be on one of 'em boards in 2 years." He dipped the strainer into a steaming canister and hung it above an empty glass till the coppery liquid dripped slowly down, and rose to a ridge slightly below the rim. Emptying a spoonful of sugar onto another, he swished the liquid back and forth, from greater and greater heights with rising assurance in his intuition each second. Soon the sugar was swept down in the clashing waves, doused in the onslaught till finally the hazel pearls seemed to disappear in the confused panic. The tea like a baby on a swing, laughed and screamed, frothing to the brim. "Anyone who don't make it there", he placed the cup on the counter, "only don't 'cause they were too lazy to put in the effort. It's all abou' the effort, nothing else." The boy flushed at the universe's quick reassurance and could only muster a relieved smile. He had buried down months of apprehension while deciding to join a prep school, and he would require every positive sign he could have for however long he'd be committed to it, to lift him out of the skies, far from the shaky ground that threatened to go down under any moment.

He hated, more than anything, to be wrong and threaten the thin threads of external reassurance his self-worth hung on. "You see 'at kid at the middle row? One without glasses? Over 'ere on the left corner." the man stretched out, pointing to the largest of the boards over the side street. "Used to see 'im here everyday. Knew from the moment I laid eyes on him he was gonna make it. Real smart kid." He beamed with such pride that couldn't possibly be found on the faces of the kids' parents. His devotion to the institute was initially just a facade to rope in new parents and kids with promises of a few fabricated tales of success. But soon the intense fervor he pretended to love the institute with slowly started creeping into his true self. He began living through the institute vicariously, parroting the management's motivational sessions word by word to every kid's parents looking to join the place, subconsciously noting down dates of exam results, anxiously awaiting their arrival, and rejoicing at the institute's continued success. He had the blind devotion of a religious fanatic, and the mad frenzy of a football fan, and found fulfillment in the evangelist purpose he bestowed upon himself.

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The boy looked around the street, unaware it would be one of the few times he'd see it in his life, even though he would spend an entire year there. The imposing concrete block of a building, stood tall over the road, offering no sense of comfort. He had been told from a young age the world was unkind, and he would anxiously roll around in bed at night, wondering if he'd ever be capable enough when the time came. He felt revolted by his feelings and his general ineptitude to life he had convinced himself of, and this repulsion had taken the form of a dark, sickly beast that followed him around, whispering in his ears every time even a tiny failure weighed on him. He was a clay ball, molded and shaped by others' opinions and beliefs, struggling with the idea that he could not fit the cast he was not meant to. The leashes he was tied down by were too tight for him, but he did not know where else to run to. He did not like putting himself out there, he knew in his heart he was not ready to. But he knew better than to trust his heart, at least, he knew his heart had not been welcome anywhere so far, and he would be better off wrapping it tightly around his trench coat from the mocking, critical eyes of the world. The only things he had known and believed in were sacrifices and pain, and he derived a sickly pleasure from its relentless pursuance. This was the only truth he had known, and the only philosophy he believed in. He had forgotten, but his conviction in his decision relied on an extremely contrived set of hopes and beliefs set by a few anonymous reviews on some corner of the internet. Of course, the opinions of people on the internet, who always seemed smarter than he was, could be trusted and there was no reason not to, but if for some godforsaken reason things went south, the threads would slowly snap and undo themselves, till his whole self would come crashing down.

The boy had not known what entrance exams were till a month back when one of his friends mentioned about joining a prep school in the city in preparation for them. Back then his haughty self had been very dismissive of his friend; he had taken pride in never requiring tuition or external help in academics his whole life, and coaching seemed like a natural extension to tuition, meant for people unable to rely on themselves. A lifetime of incompetent teachers and a bureaucratic education system, only serving to be an over-glorified daycare, had given him a god complex and an irreversible distrust in his fellow beings. But as he watched, all his classmates began joining coaching or enrolling in faraway schools one by one, till one day as he was boarding his bus for the final examination, his teacher inquired about the students who would remain in their school and only 2 or 3 hands poked out, half raised with a growing hesitancy at the lack of support. Faced with this haunting reality, he started looking into coaching and entrance and engineering, and he learned how they would teach things schools would never be capable of or interested in, and how success in this examination was the ultimate and lifelong proof of a person's self-worth and right to existence in this country. Anyone who could climb up to the top ranks was promised the world; while others would scramble for mere survival and lead a futile life, these destined few were promised the upper echelons of the universe. A person like that could drop down dead after their names were announced at the top of the rank list, and even then their death would glow in the grandeur of this everlasting achievement transcending life. The very little trust his entire family placed on him ever being independent, and the constant mockery that followed it only added to the uneasiness in his earlier convictions rising inside him. Now entrance was the final word and the meaning of life itself for the boy who had never even touched an OMR sheet in his life till a few days back. The boy placed the glass down and stood up, gave a customary wave with a faint smile to the chai walla, and walked out. With a shaky sense of self and a heart clutched tightly in his hands, he took a deep breath and peered at the void through the open gate.