The Life of Snakes and Ladders

When I arrived in front of IBA, my watch showed 5:52. As I got down, I saw my younger brother Pappu and his friend Arefin standing there. At that time, I had my gift shop ‘Dobhana.’ Pappu and Arefin were my working partners. They often came to Dhaka from Chawk Bazaar in Old Dhaka to buy wholesale goods for the shop. I had withdrawn myself from the shop to focus on my BCS exam preparation. They ran everything. They were already in Dhaka on shop business. I had told them to go to the IBA MBA program office and keep me updated by phone about the viva board situation. Through repeated conversations with them, I was checking whether the interview board was still there, asking them to go to the program office and explain that I couldn’t arrive on time due to flight delays, terrible traffic jams, and so on. As soon as I got down, they informed me, “Bhaiya, the board left 4-5 minutes ago. Now only the Executive MBA viva remains.” After introducing them to Romel bhai, I rushed up to the MBA program office on the second floor. As soon as they saw me, everyone there stopped their work and looked at me. I saw Rahi Sir busy with something; he didn’t respond to my greeting. “Sir, I’m very late. Despite trying hard, I couldn’t arrive on time. I…” Without giving me a chance to say anything more, he shouted, “You Idiot! Get out!” “Sir, I…” “I said, Get out! Out! Out!! I knew very well that you wouldn’t be able to come on time. Is it possible to take one exam in Chittagong and then come to Dhaka for another exam? That easy? You’ve just wasted my time! I had told everyone that a boy from Chittagong would come at 5:15, and we needed to take his viva. Did you think I am a joker?” “Sir, I came here with great difficulty. The flight was delayed, there was heavy traffic on the road. I really…” “It’s none of my business! Get out! Go back where you came from.” “Sir, I had many dreams of studying at IBA.” “Everyone on the street has such dreams. I gave you a chance but you missed it. That’s all! Get out of here.” “Sir, please have some mercy…” (I felt like falling at his feet and crying…) Right beside him sat a gentle-looking gentleman much younger than the sir. He said, “Sir, I’ve heard about him. His younger brother kept coming to our program office. They had been standing in front of the office for hours. His flight was indeed delayed. And there’s heavy traffic in Dhaka today too. A friend of mine came to my room from the airport a while ago; it took him a long time to get here too. Give him a chance, Sir. He’s come so far, taking such risks with great difficulty! He apparently has another written exam tomorrow too. The poor fellow has to return to Chittagong today itself.” “Son, you junior faculty members don’t even know what you’re saying, what kind of requests you make. Why are you pleading for him? Is he your relative or something?” “No no Sir, I’m seeing him for the first time today. Just look at his face once, Sir. He’s really come here with great difficulty. Please do him a favor, Sir.” “You have no idea what you are talking about! Will the Executive MBA viva be the same as theirs? They have 3 years of job experience, while these are just children in comparison!

“This won’t be possible, brother. I am sorry!” “Sir, please help the poor fellow a bit. He’s come such a long way with so much hope!” “Son, we can’t manage anything more for you!” I stood a little distance away, head bowed. Looking at me, he called out loudly, “Hey, stupid! Why are you standing there like a donkey? Go on, go to the third floor! Go and stand there absolutely quietly. We’ll call you.” I truly couldn’t understand whether such a beautiful moment had ever come anywhere in this world before! Tears began streaming down my face. I prayed again and again from my heart for Babu sir. Rahi sir seemed like a father figure to me. I kept remembering mother’s words: “Never get angry at teachers’ scolding. When teachers scold, it means blessings.” Overwhelmed with emotion, as I was about to leave after thanking and saluting the teachers, Rahi sir called from behind, “Hey crazy boy! Comb your hair before entering the board! Wash your face at the basin! Don’t be so scared! Hahaha…” I couldn’t say anything more. I kept staring blankly at sir’s face. My cheeks were wet with tears from both eyes. Babu sir placed his hand on my shoulder and said, “Go on, go upstairs and wait. We are not that much bad people as you thought us to be. Sometimes even the IBA faculties are too good! Freshen up, give your interview properly, now there’s no tension anymore. What’s your exam tomorrow?” “Sir, Mathematical Reasoning and Mental Ability.” “How will you go?” “Sir, I have a return plane ticket.” “Good! Brother, splash some water on your eyes and face to fix your appearance. Give your viva quickly and rush to the airport! Good luck!” At that moment I felt like touching sir’s feet in salute. People get frightened by sudden intense love. For the first time, it suddenly struck me: “What if I can’t honor this love of my teachers? What if I don’t get a chance at IBA in the end?”

When we find ourselves in trouble, if our intentions are pure, a way out always emerges! I went to the washroom on the third floor and tried my best to “make myself presentable” by wetting my hair and smoothing it down. After splashing water on my face, I went and waited in front of the notice board. I was called after 10 minutes. It was nearly seven o’clock. When I entered the room, I saw many faculty members seated there. I hadn’t known that so many would be present for an interview. I thought this was perhaps how IBA interviews were conducted. I later learned that this entire panel had been assembled just for me. Apart from Babu Sir and Rahi Sir, I didn’t recognize anyone else. After getting admitted, I realized that those present that evening were IBA’s most senior and accomplished faculty members. The board included Saiful Majid Sir, Shama-e-Zahir Sir, Mamun Sir, Munir Khosru Sir, Niaz Sir, and Saif Noman Khan Sir. Most of the junior faculty had finished their interviews and gone home, while some senior faculty were in their offices conducting Executive MBA interviews. Some of them had been specially called in. I was in the interview for about 18-20 minutes. Many of the faculty members knew about my situation that day. I had heard of something called “divine possession” in life. At certain special moments, due to particular external influences or circumstances, people suddenly gain extraordinary power. In those moments, they step outside their normal state and display different behavior. They can harness the utmost potential of their inner infinite strength. In that wondrous balanced fusion of emotion and capability, the best version of themselves emerges. From the moment I entered the interview room, I had very likely become a different person, or perhaps the very best ‘me’ from within had emerged that day. By what divine signal this happened, I don’t know. No hesitation, doubt, nervousness, fear, the day’s exhaustion, or lethargy was affecting me at all. I felt incredibly composed and light as a feather. It felt as though whatever I was saying or doing was the best possible. I was experiencing the finest moment of my life right then and there. I can say with complete honesty that the style in which I spoke English that day—I have never in my entire life, even to this day, been able to speak English so flawlessly and fluently. That day the faculty members engaged in various kinds of humor during the interview. They were having great fun with me. Most likely, the faculty wanted to “shake me up” somehow. I don’t know why, by whose indication I don’t know, but I kept answering all their questions one by one with a very cool head and a smile that day. They interviewed me in English on various diverse topics, starting from describing the entire day’s events and the preceding Facebook incidents to many other subjects. (Of course, at IBA there’s absolutely no opportunity to give interviews in Bengali.) Why I wanted to pursue an MBA, why IBA if I was going to take government job exams anyway, my weaknesses, whether I’d ever been in love, how I spend my leisure time, some conversation about reading books, various economic issues of Bangladesh, some personal and family matters, my future plans, the breathless motorcycle journey from A to Z, the BCS examination system, why I went into engineering despite having no interest, why I delayed my honors degree, why I didn’t study properly, why my CGPA was so low, what I like to eat, what kind of personality I prefer in people, what I know about IBA, some current affairs, and several other questions. I was answering very quickly in correct English. The faculty praised this too. I gave a very simple, straightforward, and candid interview. I didn’t speak a single false word that day.

I didn’t need to think before speaking—whatever came to mind, I simply said, so there was no chance to fabricate lies. At the end, they asked me to sing a song. When I said, “I can’t, Sir,” Babu Sir showed me my info-form and laughed, saying, “But you’ve claimed so.” I had written Reading, Writing, Singing in the hobbies section… At that moment, it felt like I was living the best day of my life. I sang, “Aaj ei dintake…” “I see, we’re getting a singer for our cultural program!” As Saiful Majid Sir was saying this, Babu Sir interjected, “Sir, he has another exam tomorrow. He’ll probably be flying back to Chittagong tonight.” Then three or four teachers exclaimed in unison, “What! He’s going back to Chittagong right now? Well then, run along, run along! Go downstairs and see if your superman biker is there! Hahahaha…” As I was leaving with my salaam, the teachers called out, “Best of luck for your tomorrow’s exam.” I kept thinking, again and again—I’ll make it, I’ll make it! (Even after giving the BCS viva, I didn’t feel this good.)

When I stepped out of IBA, it was half past seven on the clock. I knew there was no way I could catch the 7:45 flight. I also knew that I had no idea how I would get to Chittagong that night. I didn’t even feel like thinking about it. Only the exhilarating rush of having given a good exam was coursing through me. Pappu and Arefin had been waiting for me at Madhu’s canteen. Taking them along, I went to the front of Dhaka University’s Central Library and leisurely began eating vegetable pakoras and tea. Many of my students studied in various departments at Dhaka University. Quite a few came to see me. They were asking what questions had been asked in the interview. After a day of incredible experiences, my head had become almost entirely empty. I couldn’t understand why I wasn’t feeling the slightest urgency to return to Chittagong. Pappu asked, “Brother, will you take the night bus?” I said, “Yes, that could work.” (It amuses me now to think how casually I had said ‘that could work’!) The road conditions weren’t good then either, there were always traffic jams. It didn’t even occur to me—what would happen if I couldn’t reach by 10 AM tomorrow? Ripon, a dear younger brother who lived in Chittagong and was one of my former students, said, “Brother, I have a non-AC train ticket; for Turna Nishitha, leaving tonight. It doesn’t matter if I don’t go to Chittagong today. Brother, you take it.” “Alright, fine,” I said, took the ticket, and set off toward Kamalapur Station. That night the train left nearly an hour and a half late. I didn’t even want to think about what was going to happen! I had already surrendered myself to fate long before. In my mind I kept repeating only this: whatever will be, will be. Whether I want it or not, it will happen. And whatever is happening is surely for the good; whatever will happen will surely be for the good too. Let’s see! After the day’s exhaustion, I had a very peaceful sleep. Suddenly I woke up hearing commotion around me. The train had stopped at Comilla. Apparently there was some problem with the line. We were delayed there for nearly two and a quarter hours. I couldn’t understand why I wasn’t feeling any kind of anxiety! I fell asleep again. Sleep is the world’s only faithful lover. Whenever I want it, I find it near. Never, under any circumstances, does it abandon me. There can be no purer love than the love for sleep.

When the train reached Chittagong railway station the next day, it was a quarter to ten in the morning. My exam was scheduled to start at ten. It takes only fifteen minutes to get from the station to my house. When I got home, I found my mother sitting there with everything ready in her hands—my pencil box, board, scale, pen, calculator, admit card, registration card, all of it. My parents had been terribly anxious at home. I hadn’t been able to speak to them since after half past one at night. My mobile had run out of charge. (I was using a cheap Nokia 1100 mobile set back then. Everyone called it the “national set”! It was so sturdy that many would joke, “Dude, you could crack jackfruit with that phone!” I’d tease my friends who used expensive mobiles, saying, “My phone’s model is ‘N Eleven Zero Zero’!”) As soon as my mother saw me, she said, “Dear, how are you? Will you take today’s exam?” I felt emotionally numb. It seemed as though I was lighter than a feather at that moment, floating around in some kind of trance! I smiled and said, “Ma, I’m perfectly fine. I’ll take the exam.” Saying this, I took the packed shopping bag from my mother’s hands and left the house just as I was. It was 10:05 on the clock. From our house to the exam center, it takes at least thirty minutes by CNG during office hours. When I reached the college gate, it was 10:43. That day was the mathematical reasoning and mental ability test. The first two hours were mathematical reasoning, followed by one hour of mental ability. The exam had already started forty-three minutes earlier. Naturally, the police wouldn’t let me enter. I pleaded extensively, kept trying futilely to explain what had happened, but they weren’t willing to listen to anything. But I had made up my mind—I wasn’t going to turn back, I would get inside no matter what. A small commotion started gathering there. Seeing the crowd, the magistrate came over. After hearing my entire story, he said, “You only have one hour left. Can you finish all the math problems in this time?” Without a moment’s hesitation, I said, “I can, sir!” “Alright, go ahead. Good luck!” My heart overflowed with gratitude toward him. At that moment, he seemed to me not human, but divine! I went in, looked at the questions, took the exam. I even showed three problems to the person sitting next to me. (He got a job in Audit and Accounts in the 30th batch.) I scored 98 on that day’s exam—50 in math, 48 in mental ability. After that… well, as everyone says—the rest is history!

But this much is true: had that day’s exam been something other than mathematics, I would have been in real trouble. I can handle math because the type of problems that appeared in the BCS written exam back then weren’t particularly difficult for me to solve. Such problems don’t strain the mind much, and the 30th BCS written exam featured relatively easy math. Even if I worked through each step carefully and added side notes, it shouldn’t have taken more than half an hour. It didn’t for me either. However, spending two and a half hours on the International Affairs exam the day before had been risky. Actually, no matter how incredible the whole affair might seem, everything appears to have been predetermined by the Creator or nature itself. What remains inexplicable to our limited understanding is simply a natural, ordinary occurrence for the Creator. All our failures and successes are already decided beforehand. But to reach that point, the effort—or making the right decision at the right time—that we must do ourselves. I wasn’t even supposed to pass my undergraduate degree. Yet it was my destiny to complete my undergraduate studies, become a BCS cadre, study at IBA—all of it was written in my fate. Had my destiny been bound elsewhere, I would have gone there instead. I had enrolled in another master’s program under Dhaka University—MDS. After continuing that course for three months, I left it of my own accord. They had said I would need to officially hide the fact that I was simultaneously pursuing another master’s at IBA. I refused to lie. I harbor no regret about this, though. I’ve accepted that pursuing that particular master’s degree simply wasn’t written in my destiny. This is the truth, this is reality. I had gained admission to Dhaka University’s Evening MBA program in Finance, ranking sixth on the merit list, but never had to attend classes there. I received my IBA admission test results before that. I did complete my master’s in Finance from Dhaka University, but the Evening MBA program wasn’t destined for me, so I didn’t pursue my master’s degree from there.

Stepping into two boats in the middle of a river ensures certain death. Logic dictates this. But I placed my feet in two boats, taking the maximum risk—I had no other choice—yet both boats moved forward in parallel at the same speed at the same time, so I didn’t slip between them and lose my life. What explanation could there be for this? Life doesn’t follow logic; life follows the Creator’s signals. Life doesn’t always operate according to explanations. Sometimes life moves on faith. So there’s nothing to say about anyone’s personal philosophy and the life they live according to their beliefs, as long as that life doesn’t interfere with someone else’s way of living. Somewhere, no explicable form of life can be seen, and life is just like this!

Through sheer mental strength alone, I had believed that some miracle would surely occur. It did happen, because in Providence’s master plan, that’s what was meant to happen. Everything in between was the Creator’s games or plans to test my patience and concentration. You will never be given a gift you don’t deserve. You will be tested, and if you fail to pass that test, you will deprive yourself of the Creator’s grace through your own fault. I’m sharing with you the Facebook status I posted after the IBA admission test results came out, along with a couple of my own comments on it:

Friends, I’ve been finally selected for admission into the MBA Program of IBA, Dhaka University. …… feeling happy. ……. HATS OFF to Sharmeen didi, Ira madam & Romel bhai!!

# My dear friends….. Your gorgeous presence on my wall makes me think twice about the POWER of friendship & the MAGIC of love. YES……… They matter!! I just want to be with you forever. Please never say GOODBYE…. It hurts!! Your kindness and care mean a lot to me. You’ve always given me much more than I really deserve. Please accept my sincere GRATITUDE.

Happy Social Networking!!

Long live Facebook!!

My best wishes for our Friendship!!

……… Love you all ……

# (To one of my close friends) Dost, not reaching the Interview Session on 17 January at 5:30 pm was what I thought to be….. reaching there in time was what was written in my DESTINY….. And, I ended up calling it a MIRACLE, something I never believed in before…… Just have a look at the schedule of 17 January……

International Affairs Exam (BCS written exam)…. 10:00 am — 1:00 pm

The departure time of the GMG Airlines: 3:20 pm, there was a delay of about 1 hour due to fog and I availed another delayed flight of Bangladesh Biman at 4:37 pm.

The plane landed on Dhaka Airport at 5:13 pm and then I started my fight against time to meet the deadline by bike with Romel bhai!! Who managed those three saviours (Sharmeen didi, Ira madam & Romel bhai) for me? I don’t know. You better ask the Heaven! I saw such a breath-taking motor-bike driving only in English movies. Before that day, I had never thought I would experience it!!

Life is sometimes stranger than fiction . . . . Who can tell it better than I?

# (To one of my senior high-profile Indian friends) Thank you Sir for your words of felicitation. IBA of Dhaka University is considered as the most prestigious institute for doing MBA in Bangladesh. As per the rules of that Business School, the Major/Field of Specialization is allowed to be chosen at the final semester judging the academic records & intention of a candidate. I don’t have much idea about what to choose and why to choose. Please share some ideas on it as you’ve huge practical knowledge (so far as I know) about the present corporate trend.

You’ve nicely stated the trend of our careerist B-school graduates. No one really cares about their own aptitude, rather, tries to be what market wants them to be. Personally, I always like the decision-making and mainstream operational sections of giant companies. And, probably I’ll go for finance as my major when I’ve to choose it in my final semester. Yes, my semester results must be well enough to work on my advantage. That’ll be a story of one and a half years later. Till then, I’ll have to undergo the generalized curriculum as my B-school formulates. The recent economic recession worries our friends studying at the US universities. And, almost all of them suggest me not to plan of staying there. But at the same time, they suggest me completing my PhD in the US if I want to and grab that opportunity. Let’s wait and see. . . . . Are you in India now? Hope you’re quite OK along with your busy schedule. Please, sometimes give me your valuable suggestions when you’ve time and you’re here on Facebook. . . . . Thank you once again for your helpful advice. Take care.

In explaining the final part of the status shared above, I had written these words:

Let me share the Story behind the Story and elucidate the last part of my status. It would have been quite impossible for me to reach Dhaka University from Dhaka International Airport within just 50 minutes (!!) to attend the interview session of IBA in time on Jan 17, but for the cordial help of Sharmeen didi (Sharmeen Muiz) & Ira madam (Johora Bebe Ira). They’re the persons who made that miracle happen!! And, Romel bhai (Monirul Alam Romel) is the “Man with the Bike” who dared fight against time to meet the deadline!! ……. I feel honoured to express my heartfelt gratitude to these three saviours. …….. Miracles Happen When You Believe!!

I conclude this piece with a beautifully strange comment Sharmeen didi made on that status: “My prayers, good wishes, and prayers remain with you. Dear brother of mine, may you grow to great heights. And may the successful reflection of our efforts (Ira’s and mine) shine through in everything you do. I was there, I am here, I will be there. …….. Heaps of hugs and love.”

What sustains a human being? We live on love, on prayers, on good wishes. These are what keep me alive—quite well alive, in fact. My gratitude!

P.S. Let me offer you some practical wisdom. Those who think they know too much, who consider themselves supremely intelligent, who speak in grand terms without any real qualifications or notable position, who try to diminish others even through outright lies, who pontificate without knowledge, who speak to you in such a manner that you begin to doubt your own confidence—I would advise you to absolutely, absolutely, and absolutely avoid such people. They themselves cannot go very far in life, nor will they allow you to go very far either.

(Written 2-3 years ago)

I had never been on a plane before. I thought that wherever you go, you need a passport to fly. My elder brother called a friend who works with passport services and asked what documents are needed for an emergency passport to Dhaka. He burst out laughing! He said, “Buddy, what do you need a passport for? A plane and a bus are the same thing. One flies in the sky, the other runs on the road. That’s all there is to it! Just go buy a ticket. That’s it! Which one is good? You can go with GMG. That’s pretty good.” I didn’t know that you don’t have to rush to the airport to buy a plane ticket. I had no idea how much tickets cost. Getting off the bus in the morning, I went straight to a Dutch-Bangla Bank booth and withdrew ten thousand taka. Then I jumped into a CNG and rushed to the airport. I bought a ticket from the GMG Airlines counter for the 3:20 flight on Monday, the 17th. That was the first Chittagong-Dhaka flight of the afternoon. I booked a return ticket for the same day on the 7:45 evening flight. I felt like I could see it right before my eyes—me attending classes at IBA! Such a strange vision! I returned home with a victorious smile, almost as if I had already gotten into IBA! At night, I tried to prepare from various guides and the internet about what they might ask in the IBA interview. I studied for about 4-5 hours. At the same time, I posted a status on Facebook: How much time does it take to reach Dhaka University from Dhaka International Airport? Is it possible to reach in 40 minutes? Friends, any suggestion, please? I was truly a very simple person back then. I saw the world in very simple terms. Since I hadn’t visited Dhaka much, I didn’t know that in 2011 it wasn’t possible to get from the airport to Shahbag in 40 minutes. Everyone was saying it would take a minimum of two hours to get from the airport to the university campus in the afternoon. All sorts of bizarre comments came in reply to my status. Many started making fun of me. I’ll share some of my friends’ suggestions: “It’s possible if you run.” “It would be great if you jogged to the university. You’d get your evening exercise too!” “You shouldn’t have bought that plane ticket! With that money, if you had thrown us a party, we all would have prayed together and your BCS would have worked out! Hahahaha…..” “Young man! You’re young, just run as soon as you get off the plane! You’ll see, you’ll reach before time!” “Listen, such-and-such bus runs on such-and-such route. Hanging and sleeping, you’ll reach IBA just fine!” I got many such absurd comments. I knew absolutely nothing about Dhaka then. When you’re in trouble, doesn’t everyone have to give you a kick? It began to feel like that’s just how life is! People can’t extend a hand to pull you up, but they can certainly extend a foot to kick you down! Without getting the least bit discouraged by anyone’s words, I kept waiting to see if someone would give some good advice. I didn’t react to anyone’s reply that day. How helplessly calm a person becomes when in trouble. All I knew was this: “I’m giving my IBA interview on the 17th.” One person wrote, “You can go by bike. There’s no faster way to reach the university campus.” Some people even supported that idea. A few mentioned taxi cabs. Support was strongest for the bike option. Up until then, I had ridden a bike maybe 2-3 times in my entire life, counting generously. I didn’t really know anyone in Dhaka who had a bike, or if I did know someone, my mind wasn’t working at all then. Sometimes I think now, alas!

I couldn’t even afford to manage a bike at that time. I wrote, “My flight is scheduled to land at Dhaka Airport at 4.10 pm on 17 January. I must reach Dhaka University at or before 5.15 pm. I’ve an interview at IBA at that time. . . . Can’t I do it? Is it not possible? I need to do it at any cost. As I don’t know about the routes of Dhaka City, I’m asking for your help. Dhaka City is an unknown city to me. Can a taxi cab help me reach there in 1 hour? I can’t be late, otherwise I’ll miss the interview schedule. I’ve managed that schedule today through an application. . . Can a bike be a better solution? Or, something else? I’m in great trouble. . . .” After posting this, the mocking and laughter began all over again. I replied to the distinguished gentleman (one of Bangladesh’s most successful businessmen) who had advised me to jog there: “Thank you Sir for you ‘jogging’ suggestion. I was also seriously thinking of this option. Yes, I’ll surely manage to reach in time by vehicles, on foot, again by vehicles, again on foot . . . . And, I’ll go. I’ll be there in time by any means.” Someone said, “Change the schedule once more.” I wrote, “The schedule can’t be changed! Hopefully, there will happen some miracle and I’ll manage to avail the schedule in time.” A younger brother wrote, “Brother, you should go by taxi-cab. But you could try the bus once. Dhaka buses run quite well!” I replied, “Brother, I’m not surely making any attempt of getting on a bus! That’ll be horrible, you know. I was just seeking for a suggestion as I don’t know about the route. Thanks for the suggestion. I think a CNG powered taxi can help me in this regard. A taxi-cab is prone to getting stuck up in the congestion forever. A bike could be a better solution. But, I can’t manage it.”

Mrs. Zohra, whose name was Ira—an extremely distinguished lady—commented, “You need a bike?” “That would be wonderful.” “Alright, let me see what I can do.” She was the Deputy Managing Director of ONE Bank. After completing her studies in Chemistry from Chittagong University, she had done her MBA from IBA. She worked in the corporate sector, but there were very few people who didn’t know her. I have a sister. Her name is Sharmin Muiz Khan. At that time, she was one of those rare souls who loved someone as insignificant as me far more than necessary, showered me with affection for no particular reason. She was almost my mother’s age, but I addressed her as ‘tumi’ and she called me ‘tui’. She had studied English Literature at Dhaka University. She particularly loved my writing. She was a business magnate and had connections with many prominent people. I have rarely seen a lady as distinguished, refined, elegant, and utterly graceful as her. She commented, “Bappi, someone needs to grab you and give you a good thrashing. Are you enjoying confusing everyone by calling them all the time? Please stop wasting your time browsing Facebook and concentrate on tomorrow’s exam. Otherwise, you’re calling for another disaster. There is a saying: ‘Que sera, sera’ meaning: Whatever will be, will be. So, pray and try your best. I have given this opinion after a lot of serious thoughts. Please follow it. You will leave here right now. I don’t want to see you making even one more comment! MIRACLES HAPPEN IF YOU BELIEVE IN YOURSELF!” I replied, “Didi, things are that they’re. Things will be that they will be. And, between this two there lie some miracles that we’re never aware of. And, miracles are often stranger than facts. Facts are because they’re. Miracles are because we or someone else wants them to be. That’s the truth!” She called Mrs. Zohra. She said, “Look Ira, my brother has gotten into a bit of trouble. The poor thing is a simple soul, we should do something for him. Can’t you arrange a bike for him?” A little while later, I saw a message from Mrs. Zohra in my inbox: “Please give me your contact number. Regards” I gave it immediately. The call came within seconds. After introducing herself, she said, “You need a bike Monday at 4 PM, right?” “That would be wonderful.” “OK, a bike will be there for you at 4. My colleague Romel will pick you. Alright?” “I am truly, truly grateful. Thank you so very much!” “Let’s get the work done first, then you can thank me. I’m texting you Romel’s number. Take care.” She hung up immediately. I wrote to her: “Life is stranger than fiction, I repeat. From myself, I’ve got much less than I truly deserve. From others, I’ve got much more than I truly deserve. Is it the thing that they call miracle? I don’t know and never try to know. I let miracles happen and thankfully they always happen . . . . . . . Thank you for your generous approach. This really means a lot to me.” I wrote my piece. I don’t know if she ever read it or had the time to read it. Noble souls don’t wait for thanks. Besides, she was truly, truly busy.

He was the head of the credit section at One Bank. He had no reason to know a nobody like me, yet he knew me through my writing. Otherwise, I would never have had the privilege of speaking with him directly. And the fact that Sharmin didi had spoken to him about me—that was a big deal too. The next day was the Bangladesh Affairs Paper 2 exam. I went to sleep without studying any of it. The day after, straight from the exam hall, I went to the Westex showroom at Probortak intersection. My life’s first interview. I was incredibly excited! I had decided I’d go to the interview board wearing everything brand new. I bought a formal white shirt, black pants, black tie, black belt, black socks, white undershirt, and brown shoes. Later, from Gallery Apex I bought formal Oxford shoes, and from Time Zone a Titan wristwatch, then returned home in the evening. Seeing my antics, Ma was laughing. “Ma, why are you laughing?” “Just because, dear.” The funny thing was, Ma went with me to the exam hall every single day. She always kept me close, just like a child. Ma said, “Tomorrow I’m going to the airport with you.” And she did go—despite my protests.

Monday, the 17th. International Affairs exam. I couldn’t stay in the exam hall for the entire time due to nerves. I don’t have a car, what if the CNG takes too long to reach the airport! What if I miss the flight! The flight was at 3:20. And it takes at least 2 hours to reach the airport from Omar Gani MES College by 1 PM. Our written exam had been during winter. In the bitter cold, my fingers would freeze. Still, I kept rubbing my palms together to warm them, blowing hot breath into the hollow of my cupped hands, and wrote with all my strength. Instead of 1 o’clock, I finished the exam at 12:30, submitted my paper, and rushed out. When I emerged from the hall and reached the gate, everyone thought I must have been expelled! The intense stress was clearly written all over my face. Many showed me sympathy, told me not to worry, advised me to do better in the next BCS. I didn’t have time to respond. What could I say anyway—at that moment, life itself was one giant question mark for me! I don’t know what strength possessed my mother. She ran almost twice as fast as me, covering the distance from the college campus to the road. We got into a CNG without bargaining, paying nearly one and a half times the normal fare. I told the driver, “However you manage it, get us to the airport within two hours. If necessary, I’ll pay you extra.” It was 12:50 on the clock. The CNG started speeding. Mother opened the tiffin box and fed me khichuri, meat, and fried egg. One thought kept spinning in my head: “Will I catch the plane? If we get stuck in traffic, it’s all over!” I took off my sweater. I had left home that morning wearing my viva outfit, everything except the tie. After escaping two minor traffic jams, when we reached the airport, it was 5 minutes to 3. As soon as I got down, I touched my mother’s and aunt’s feet in respect (a distant aunt had come with us since mother couldn’t return home from the airport alone) and ran to the counter. There I learned that the flight was delayed by an hour due to dense fog. I thought, if the plane leaves at that time, there’s no way I can reach IBA by 5:15. I informed the counter staff about this. They said there was nothing they could do; they were very sorry. I inquired and learned that no other flights were departing at that time either. At that moment, I felt utterly helpless, just wanting to cry. I felt like I had no one, no one at all! I kept going from counter to counter. I found out there was a Bangladesh Biman flight departing at 3:45. There was no other flight before that. It was a bigger plane, taking 30 minutes to reach, whereas other planes take at least 40 minutes. Meaning, I would reach Dhaka airport by 4:15! I bought the ticket right then. There was great hope in my heart—if this one leaves on time, there’s nothing more to worry about. I went to the airport restroom and quickly put on my tie. I adjusted my shirt once more. Looking in the mirror, I fixed my hair with my hand. The clock hand crossed 4 after passing 3:45. The plane was delayed due to fog. We all boarded the plane at 4:15. It was my first time on a plane. I kept thinking, when will it take off, when will it take off! Every second felt like an hour! The tension was making it hard to breathe, yet the plane wouldn’t take off. I thought, oh! If only I could spend all my strength to make this plane soar into the sky! I pressed my handkerchief over my eyes to hide my tears. Finally, the plane took off. It was 4:37 on the clock. I was thinking, oh!

The plane could have taken off directly without taxiing! At least a couple of minutes would have been saved! The plane landed on Dhaka’s runway at 5:13.

I burst out of the domestic terminal running with all my might, and gasping for breath, I saw a motorcycle come to a stop right in front of me. “You’re Sushanta, right? Get on the back!” I extended my hand to shake hands with the young man in the black helmet. He didn’t raise his black-gloved right fist for a handshake. “Time’s wasting, brother! Please get on! Quick!” I didn’t argue further. “You’re not used to riding bikes, are you?” “Yes. How did you know?” “Brother, I’ve been riding bikes for the past 18-20 years. I can tell.” “I see.” “Lean forward and press your chest firmly against my back! You can even wrap your arms around me, otherwise you’ll get thrown off. For sure! I’m going to ride fast.” The way that bike tore out of the airport—I don’t have the courage to even think about it today. Under normal circumstances, I might have screamed in fear and told him to stop, or I really would have been thrown off. But at that moment I knew that being afraid was important, but far more important was reaching IBA alive. I don’t know if the wheels of that 150cc bike actually touched the ground that day, but for the second time in my life I understood this truth: you cannot frighten someone who stakes their life to touch their dreams. I had only seen bikes racing so recklessly on the roads in movies. The bike was literally cutting through the whooshing sound of wind, as if flying through the air! “Say brother, are you somebody really important?” “What do you mean?” “Well, Madam told me that one of her very important friends had to be delivered from the airport to IBA within half an hour, no matter what. That was her order! Who are you, brother? Hahahaha………” “I’m Madam’s Facebook friend.” “What are you saying, man? How’s that possible! I was thinking even more… you mean you’ve never even met her?” “No, brother. Why?” (There’s a railway crossing ahead. The barrier is coming down.) “Brother, duck your head a little.” Saying this, he quickly rode the bike under the barrier without obeying the signal. Many people behind us were shouting for us to stop. “Brother, just don’t be afraid. Nothing will happen. You can close your eyes if you want.” Right at that moment, while quickly emerging from between two trucks standing side by side, he said, “Sit a bit smaller, brother!” A little further ahead—massive traffic jam at a signal! Romel bhai lifted the bike onto the sidewalk. “Brother, please give way a little, give way a little,” he kept saying as he raced forward. He had to do this several times. Sometimes when riding on the central divider in the middle of the road, traffic police would catch us, and he’d say in a tearful voice, “Sir, my aunt is fighting for her life in the medical college. I’m going to donate blood. O-negative blood—we can’t find any. If I don’t reach on time, we won’t be able to save my aunt, sir!” He’d manage the police with this story and then race off at the same speed again! Whenever there was a traffic jam on the road, he’d immediately change to another road. That day I learned that when obstacles appear on the road, it doesn’t mean there is no road. Rather, it means you have to take a different road! Right now!! I had only seen such daredevil biking in Hollywood action movies. Looking at my hair in the bike’s mirror, it seemed as if it had stood up straight after an electric shock! My face was covered with dust from the city. In the fierce wind, my tie was flying behind me in the air. I don’t know if anyone has ever seen a bike race so recklessly through Dhaka’s roads during rush hour. But for some reason, I truly wasn’t afraid at all. I kept thinking over and over, “How quickly can one reach IBA!” Romel bhai had finished his honors and master’s from Dhaka College before joining the bank. I had asked him, “What’s your designation at the bank?” He had joked, “Not much, just 14 more promotions and I’ll be able to sit in Zohra Madam’s chair. Hahaha…….”

When I arrived in front of IBA, my watch showed 5:52. As I got down, I saw my younger brother Pappu and his friend Arefin standing there. At that time, I had my gift shop ‘Dobhana.’ Pappu and Arefin were my working partners. They often came to Dhaka from Chawk Bazaar in Old Dhaka to buy wholesale goods for the shop. I had withdrawn myself from the shop to focus on my BCS exam preparation. They ran everything. They were already in Dhaka on shop business. I had told them to go to the IBA MBA program office and keep me updated by phone about the viva board situation. Through repeated conversations with them, I was checking whether the interview board was still there, asking them to go to the program office and explain that I couldn’t arrive on time due to flight delays, terrible traffic jams, and so on. As soon as I got down, they informed me, “Bhaiya, the board left 4-5 minutes ago. Now only the Executive MBA viva remains.” After introducing them to Romel bhai, I rushed up to the MBA program office on the second floor. As soon as they saw me, everyone there stopped their work and looked at me. I saw Rahi Sir busy with something; he didn’t respond to my greeting. “Sir, I’m very late. Despite trying hard, I couldn’t arrive on time. I…” Without giving me a chance to say anything more, he shouted, “You Idiot! Get out!” “Sir, I…” “I said, Get out! Out! Out!! I knew very well that you wouldn’t be able to come on time. Is it possible to take one exam in Chittagong and then come to Dhaka for another exam? That easy? You’ve just wasted my time! I had told everyone that a boy from Chittagong would come at 5:15, and we needed to take his viva. Did you think I am a joker?” “Sir, I came here with great difficulty. The flight was delayed, there was heavy traffic on the road. I really…” “It’s none of my business! Get out! Go back where you came from.” “Sir, I had many dreams of studying at IBA.” “Everyone on the street has such dreams. I gave you a chance but you missed it. That’s all! Get out of here.” “Sir, please have some mercy…” (I felt like falling at his feet and crying…) Right beside him sat a gentle-looking gentleman much younger than the sir. He said, “Sir, I’ve heard about him. His younger brother kept coming to our program office. They had been standing in front of the office for hours. His flight was indeed delayed. And there’s heavy traffic in Dhaka today too. A friend of mine came to my room from the airport a while ago; it took him a long time to get here too. Give him a chance, Sir. He’s come so far, taking such risks with great difficulty! He apparently has another written exam tomorrow too. The poor fellow has to return to Chittagong today itself.” “Son, you junior faculty members don’t even know what you’re saying, what kind of requests you make. Why are you pleading for him? Is he your relative or something?” “No no Sir, I’m seeing him for the first time today. Just look at his face once, Sir. He’s really come here with great difficulty. Please do him a favor, Sir.” “You have no idea what you are talking about! Will the Executive MBA viva be the same as theirs? They have 3 years of job experience, while these are just children in comparison!

“This won’t be possible, brother. I am sorry!” “Sir, please help the poor fellow a bit. He’s come such a long way with so much hope!” “Son, we can’t manage anything more for you!” I stood a little distance away, head bowed. Looking at me, he called out loudly, “Hey, stupid! Why are you standing there like a donkey? Go on, go to the third floor! Go and stand there absolutely quietly. We’ll call you.” I truly couldn’t understand whether such a beautiful moment had ever come anywhere in this world before! Tears began streaming down my face. I prayed again and again from my heart for Babu sir. Rahi sir seemed like a father figure to me. I kept remembering mother’s words: “Never get angry at teachers’ scolding. When teachers scold, it means blessings.” Overwhelmed with emotion, as I was about to leave after thanking and saluting the teachers, Rahi sir called from behind, “Hey crazy boy! Comb your hair before entering the board! Wash your face at the basin! Don’t be so scared! Hahaha…” I couldn’t say anything more. I kept staring blankly at sir’s face. My cheeks were wet with tears from both eyes. Babu sir placed his hand on my shoulder and said, “Go on, go upstairs and wait. We are not that much bad people as you thought us to be. Sometimes even the IBA faculties are too good! Freshen up, give your interview properly, now there’s no tension anymore. What’s your exam tomorrow?” “Sir, Mathematical Reasoning and Mental Ability.” “How will you go?” “Sir, I have a return plane ticket.” “Good! Brother, splash some water on your eyes and face to fix your appearance. Give your viva quickly and rush to the airport! Good luck!” At that moment I felt like touching sir’s feet in salute. People get frightened by sudden intense love. For the first time, it suddenly struck me: “What if I can’t honor this love of my teachers? What if I don’t get a chance at IBA in the end?”

When we find ourselves in trouble, if our intentions are pure, a way out always emerges! I went to the washroom on the third floor and tried my best to “make myself presentable” by wetting my hair and smoothing it down. After splashing water on my face, I went and waited in front of the notice board. I was called after 10 minutes. It was nearly seven o’clock. When I entered the room, I saw many faculty members seated there. I hadn’t known that so many would be present for an interview. I thought this was perhaps how IBA interviews were conducted. I later learned that this entire panel had been assembled just for me. Apart from Babu Sir and Rahi Sir, I didn’t recognize anyone else. After getting admitted, I realized that those present that evening were IBA’s most senior and accomplished faculty members. The board included Saiful Majid Sir, Shama-e-Zahir Sir, Mamun Sir, Munir Khosru Sir, Niaz Sir, and Saif Noman Khan Sir. Most of the junior faculty had finished their interviews and gone home, while some senior faculty were in their offices conducting Executive MBA interviews. Some of them had been specially called in. I was in the interview for about 18-20 minutes. Many of the faculty members knew about my situation that day. I had heard of something called “divine possession” in life. At certain special moments, due to particular external influences or circumstances, people suddenly gain extraordinary power. In those moments, they step outside their normal state and display different behavior. They can harness the utmost potential of their inner infinite strength. In that wondrous balanced fusion of emotion and capability, the best version of themselves emerges. From the moment I entered the interview room, I had very likely become a different person, or perhaps the very best ‘me’ from within had emerged that day. By what divine signal this happened, I don’t know. No hesitation, doubt, nervousness, fear, the day’s exhaustion, or lethargy was affecting me at all. I felt incredibly composed and light as a feather. It felt as though whatever I was saying or doing was the best possible. I was experiencing the finest moment of my life right then and there. I can say with complete honesty that the style in which I spoke English that day—I have never in my entire life, even to this day, been able to speak English so flawlessly and fluently. That day the faculty members engaged in various kinds of humor during the interview. They were having great fun with me. Most likely, the faculty wanted to “shake me up” somehow. I don’t know why, by whose indication I don’t know, but I kept answering all their questions one by one with a very cool head and a smile that day. They interviewed me in English on various diverse topics, starting from describing the entire day’s events and the preceding Facebook incidents to many other subjects. (Of course, at IBA there’s absolutely no opportunity to give interviews in Bengali.) Why I wanted to pursue an MBA, why IBA if I was going to take government job exams anyway, my weaknesses, whether I’d ever been in love, how I spend my leisure time, some conversation about reading books, various economic issues of Bangladesh, some personal and family matters, my future plans, the breathless motorcycle journey from A to Z, the BCS examination system, why I went into engineering despite having no interest, why I delayed my honors degree, why I didn’t study properly, why my CGPA was so low, what I like to eat, what kind of personality I prefer in people, what I know about IBA, some current affairs, and several other questions. I was answering very quickly in correct English. The faculty praised this too. I gave a very simple, straightforward, and candid interview. I didn’t speak a single false word that day.

I didn’t need to think before speaking—whatever came to mind, I simply said, so there was no chance to fabricate lies. At the end, they asked me to sing a song. When I said, “I can’t, Sir,” Babu Sir showed me my info-form and laughed, saying, “But you’ve claimed so.” I had written Reading, Writing, Singing in the hobbies section… At that moment, it felt like I was living the best day of my life. I sang, “Aaj ei dintake…” “I see, we’re getting a singer for our cultural program!” As Saiful Majid Sir was saying this, Babu Sir interjected, “Sir, he has another exam tomorrow. He’ll probably be flying back to Chittagong tonight.” Then three or four teachers exclaimed in unison, “What! He’s going back to Chittagong right now? Well then, run along, run along! Go downstairs and see if your superman biker is there! Hahahaha…” As I was leaving with my salaam, the teachers called out, “Best of luck for your tomorrow’s exam.” I kept thinking, again and again—I’ll make it, I’ll make it! (Even after giving the BCS viva, I didn’t feel this good.)

When I stepped out of IBA, it was half past seven on the clock. I knew there was no way I could catch the 7:45 flight. I also knew that I had no idea how I would get to Chittagong that night. I didn’t even feel like thinking about it. Only the exhilarating rush of having given a good exam was coursing through me. Pappu and Arefin had been waiting for me at Madhu’s canteen. Taking them along, I went to the front of Dhaka University’s Central Library and leisurely began eating vegetable pakoras and tea. Many of my students studied in various departments at Dhaka University. Quite a few came to see me. They were asking what questions had been asked in the interview. After a day of incredible experiences, my head had become almost entirely empty. I couldn’t understand why I wasn’t feeling the slightest urgency to return to Chittagong. Pappu asked, “Brother, will you take the night bus?” I said, “Yes, that could work.” (It amuses me now to think how casually I had said ‘that could work’!) The road conditions weren’t good then either, there were always traffic jams. It didn’t even occur to me—what would happen if I couldn’t reach by 10 AM tomorrow? Ripon, a dear younger brother who lived in Chittagong and was one of my former students, said, “Brother, I have a non-AC train ticket; for Turna Nishitha, leaving tonight. It doesn’t matter if I don’t go to Chittagong today. Brother, you take it.” “Alright, fine,” I said, took the ticket, and set off toward Kamalapur Station. That night the train left nearly an hour and a half late. I didn’t even want to think about what was going to happen! I had already surrendered myself to fate long before. In my mind I kept repeating only this: whatever will be, will be. Whether I want it or not, it will happen. And whatever is happening is surely for the good; whatever will happen will surely be for the good too. Let’s see! After the day’s exhaustion, I had a very peaceful sleep. Suddenly I woke up hearing commotion around me. The train had stopped at Comilla. Apparently there was some problem with the line. We were delayed there for nearly two and a quarter hours. I couldn’t understand why I wasn’t feeling any kind of anxiety! I fell asleep again. Sleep is the world’s only faithful lover. Whenever I want it, I find it near. Never, under any circumstances, does it abandon me. There can be no purer love than the love for sleep.

When the train reached Chittagong railway station the next day, it was a quarter to ten in the morning. My exam was scheduled to start at ten. It takes only fifteen minutes to get from the station to my house. When I got home, I found my mother sitting there with everything ready in her hands—my pencil box, board, scale, pen, calculator, admit card, registration card, all of it. My parents had been terribly anxious at home. I hadn’t been able to speak to them since after half past one at night. My mobile had run out of charge. (I was using a cheap Nokia 1100 mobile set back then. Everyone called it the “national set”! It was so sturdy that many would joke, “Dude, you could crack jackfruit with that phone!” I’d tease my friends who used expensive mobiles, saying, “My phone’s model is ‘N Eleven Zero Zero’!”) As soon as my mother saw me, she said, “Dear, how are you? Will you take today’s exam?” I felt emotionally numb. It seemed as though I was lighter than a feather at that moment, floating around in some kind of trance! I smiled and said, “Ma, I’m perfectly fine. I’ll take the exam.” Saying this, I took the packed shopping bag from my mother’s hands and left the house just as I was. It was 10:05 on the clock. From our house to the exam center, it takes at least thirty minutes by CNG during office hours. When I reached the college gate, it was 10:43. That day was the mathematical reasoning and mental ability test. The first two hours were mathematical reasoning, followed by one hour of mental ability. The exam had already started forty-three minutes earlier. Naturally, the police wouldn’t let me enter. I pleaded extensively, kept trying futilely to explain what had happened, but they weren’t willing to listen to anything. But I had made up my mind—I wasn’t going to turn back, I would get inside no matter what. A small commotion started gathering there. Seeing the crowd, the magistrate came over. After hearing my entire story, he said, “You only have one hour left. Can you finish all the math problems in this time?” Without a moment’s hesitation, I said, “I can, sir!” “Alright, go ahead. Good luck!” My heart overflowed with gratitude toward him. At that moment, he seemed to me not human, but divine! I went in, looked at the questions, took the exam. I even showed three problems to the person sitting next to me. (He got a job in Audit and Accounts in the 30th batch.) I scored 98 on that day’s exam—50 in math, 48 in mental ability. After that… well, as everyone says—the rest is history!

But this much is true: had that day’s exam been something other than mathematics, I would have been in real trouble. I can handle math because the type of problems that appeared in the BCS written exam back then weren’t particularly difficult for me to solve. Such problems don’t strain the mind much, and the 30th BCS written exam featured relatively easy math. Even if I worked through each step carefully and added side notes, it shouldn’t have taken more than half an hour. It didn’t for me either. However, spending two and a half hours on the International Affairs exam the day before had been risky. Actually, no matter how incredible the whole affair might seem, everything appears to have been predetermined by the Creator or nature itself. What remains inexplicable to our limited understanding is simply a natural, ordinary occurrence for the Creator. All our failures and successes are already decided beforehand. But to reach that point, the effort—or making the right decision at the right time—that we must do ourselves. I wasn’t even supposed to pass my undergraduate degree. Yet it was my destiny to complete my undergraduate studies, become a BCS cadre, study at IBA—all of it was written in my fate. Had my destiny been bound elsewhere, I would have gone there instead. I had enrolled in another master’s program under Dhaka University—MDS. After continuing that course for three months, I left it of my own accord. They had said I would need to officially hide the fact that I was simultaneously pursuing another master’s at IBA. I refused to lie. I harbor no regret about this, though. I’ve accepted that pursuing that particular master’s degree simply wasn’t written in my destiny. This is the truth, this is reality. I had gained admission to Dhaka University’s Evening MBA program in Finance, ranking sixth on the merit list, but never had to attend classes there. I received my IBA admission test results before that. I did complete my master’s in Finance from Dhaka University, but the Evening MBA program wasn’t destined for me, so I didn’t pursue my master’s degree from there.

Stepping into two boats in the middle of a river ensures certain death. Logic dictates this. But I placed my feet in two boats, taking the maximum risk—I had no other choice—yet both boats moved forward in parallel at the same speed at the same time, so I didn’t slip between them and lose my life. What explanation could there be for this? Life doesn’t follow logic; life follows the Creator’s signals. Life doesn’t always operate according to explanations. Sometimes life moves on faith. So there’s nothing to say about anyone’s personal philosophy and the life they live according to their beliefs, as long as that life doesn’t interfere with someone else’s way of living. Somewhere, no explicable form of life can be seen, and life is just like this!

Through sheer mental strength alone, I had believed that some miracle would surely occur. It did happen, because in Providence’s master plan, that’s what was meant to happen. Everything in between was the Creator’s games or plans to test my patience and concentration. You will never be given a gift you don’t deserve. You will be tested, and if you fail to pass that test, you will deprive yourself of the Creator’s grace through your own fault. I’m sharing with you the Facebook status I posted after the IBA admission test results came out, along with a couple of my own comments on it:

Friends, I’ve been finally selected for admission into the MBA Program of IBA, Dhaka University. …… feeling happy. ……. HATS OFF to Sharmeen didi, Ira madam & Romel bhai!!

# My dear friends….. Your gorgeous presence on my wall makes me think twice about the POWER of friendship & the MAGIC of love. YES……… They matter!! I just want to be with you forever. Please never say GOODBYE…. It hurts!! Your kindness and care mean a lot to me. You’ve always given me much more than I really deserve. Please accept my sincere GRATITUDE.

Happy Social Networking!!

Long live Facebook!!

My best wishes for our Friendship!!

……… Love you all ……

# (To one of my close friends) Dost, not reaching the Interview Session on 17 January at 5:30 pm was what I thought to be….. reaching there in time was what was written in my DESTINY….. And, I ended up calling it a MIRACLE, something I never believed in before…… Just have a look at the schedule of 17 January……

International Affairs Exam (BCS written exam)…. 10:00 am — 1:00 pm

The departure time of the GMG Airlines: 3:20 pm, there was a delay of about 1 hour due to fog and I availed another delayed flight of Bangladesh Biman at 4:37 pm.

The plane landed on Dhaka Airport at 5:13 pm and then I started my fight against time to meet the deadline by bike with Romel bhai!! Who managed those three saviours (Sharmeen didi, Ira madam & Romel bhai) for me? I don’t know. You better ask the Heaven! I saw such a breath-taking motor-bike driving only in English movies. Before that day, I had never thought I would experience it!!

Life is sometimes stranger than fiction . . . . Who can tell it better than I?

# (To one of my senior high-profile Indian friends) Thank you Sir for your words of felicitation. IBA of Dhaka University is considered as the most prestigious institute for doing MBA in Bangladesh. As per the rules of that Business School, the Major/Field of Specialization is allowed to be chosen at the final semester judging the academic records & intention of a candidate. I don’t have much idea about what to choose and why to choose. Please share some ideas on it as you’ve huge practical knowledge (so far as I know) about the present corporate trend.

You’ve nicely stated the trend of our careerist B-school graduates. No one really cares about their own aptitude, rather, tries to be what market wants them to be. Personally, I always like the decision-making and mainstream operational sections of giant companies. And, probably I’ll go for finance as my major when I’ve to choose it in my final semester. Yes, my semester results must be well enough to work on my advantage. That’ll be a story of one and a half years later. Till then, I’ll have to undergo the generalized curriculum as my B-school formulates. The recent economic recession worries our friends studying at the US universities. And, almost all of them suggest me not to plan of staying there. But at the same time, they suggest me completing my PhD in the US if I want to and grab that opportunity. Let’s wait and see. . . . . Are you in India now? Hope you’re quite OK along with your busy schedule. Please, sometimes give me your valuable suggestions when you’ve time and you’re here on Facebook. . . . . Thank you once again for your helpful advice. Take care.

In explaining the final part of the status shared above, I had written these words:

Let me share the Story behind the Story and elucidate the last part of my status. It would have been quite impossible for me to reach Dhaka University from Dhaka International Airport within just 50 minutes (!!) to attend the interview session of IBA in time on Jan 17, but for the cordial help of Sharmeen didi (Sharmeen Muiz) & Ira madam (Johora Bebe Ira). They’re the persons who made that miracle happen!! And, Romel bhai (Monirul Alam Romel) is the “Man with the Bike” who dared fight against time to meet the deadline!! ……. I feel honoured to express my heartfelt gratitude to these three saviours. …….. Miracles Happen When You Believe!!

I conclude this piece with a beautifully strange comment Sharmeen didi made on that status: “My prayers, good wishes, and prayers remain with you. Dear brother of mine, may you grow to great heights. And may the successful reflection of our efforts (Ira’s and mine) shine through in everything you do. I was there, I am here, I will be there. …….. Heaps of hugs and love.”

What sustains a human being? We live on love, on prayers, on good wishes. These are what keep me alive—quite well alive, in fact. My gratitude!

P.S. Let me offer you some practical wisdom. Those who think they know too much, who consider themselves supremely intelligent, who speak in grand terms without any real qualifications or notable position, who try to diminish others even through outright lies, who pontificate without knowledge, who speak to you in such a manner that you begin to doubt your own confidence—I would advise you to absolutely, absolutely, and absolutely avoid such people. They themselves cannot go very far in life, nor will they allow you to go very far either.

(Written 2-3 years ago)

I had never been on a plane before. I thought that wherever you go, you need a passport to fly. My elder brother called a friend who works with passport services and asked what documents are needed for an emergency passport to Dhaka. He burst out laughing! He said, “Buddy, what do you need a passport for? A plane and a bus are the same thing. One flies in the sky, the other runs on the road. That’s all there is to it! Just go buy a ticket. That’s it! Which one is good? You can go with GMG. That’s pretty good.” I didn’t know that you don’t have to rush to the airport to buy a plane ticket. I had no idea how much tickets cost. Getting off the bus in the morning, I went straight to a Dutch-Bangla Bank booth and withdrew ten thousand taka. Then I jumped into a CNG and rushed to the airport. I bought a ticket from the GMG Airlines counter for the 3:20 flight on Monday, the 17th. That was the first Chittagong-Dhaka flight of the afternoon. I booked a return ticket for the same day on the 7:45 evening flight. I felt like I could see it right before my eyes—me attending classes at IBA! Such a strange vision! I returned home with a victorious smile, almost as if I had already gotten into IBA! At night, I tried to prepare from various guides and the internet about what they might ask in the IBA interview. I studied for about 4-5 hours. At the same time, I posted a status on Facebook: How much time does it take to reach Dhaka University from Dhaka International Airport? Is it possible to reach in 40 minutes? Friends, any suggestion, please? I was truly a very simple person back then. I saw the world in very simple terms. Since I hadn’t visited Dhaka much, I didn’t know that in 2011 it wasn’t possible to get from the airport to Shahbag in 40 minutes. Everyone was saying it would take a minimum of two hours to get from the airport to the university campus in the afternoon. All sorts of bizarre comments came in reply to my status. Many started making fun of me. I’ll share some of my friends’ suggestions: “It’s possible if you run.” “It would be great if you jogged to the university. You’d get your evening exercise too!” “You shouldn’t have bought that plane ticket! With that money, if you had thrown us a party, we all would have prayed together and your BCS would have worked out! Hahahaha…..” “Young man! You’re young, just run as soon as you get off the plane! You’ll see, you’ll reach before time!” “Listen, such-and-such bus runs on such-and-such route. Hanging and sleeping, you’ll reach IBA just fine!” I got many such absurd comments. I knew absolutely nothing about Dhaka then. When you’re in trouble, doesn’t everyone have to give you a kick? It began to feel like that’s just how life is! People can’t extend a hand to pull you up, but they can certainly extend a foot to kick you down! Without getting the least bit discouraged by anyone’s words, I kept waiting to see if someone would give some good advice. I didn’t react to anyone’s reply that day. How helplessly calm a person becomes when in trouble. All I knew was this: “I’m giving my IBA interview on the 17th.” One person wrote, “You can go by bike. There’s no faster way to reach the university campus.” Some people even supported that idea. A few mentioned taxi cabs. Support was strongest for the bike option. Up until then, I had ridden a bike maybe 2-3 times in my entire life, counting generously. I didn’t really know anyone in Dhaka who had a bike, or if I did know someone, my mind wasn’t working at all then. Sometimes I think now, alas!

I couldn’t even afford to manage a bike at that time. I wrote, “My flight is scheduled to land at Dhaka Airport at 4.10 pm on 17 January. I must reach Dhaka University at or before 5.15 pm. I’ve an interview at IBA at that time. . . . Can’t I do it? Is it not possible? I need to do it at any cost. As I don’t know about the routes of Dhaka City, I’m asking for your help. Dhaka City is an unknown city to me. Can a taxi cab help me reach there in 1 hour? I can’t be late, otherwise I’ll miss the interview schedule. I’ve managed that schedule today through an application. . . Can a bike be a better solution? Or, something else? I’m in great trouble. . . .” After posting this, the mocking and laughter began all over again. I replied to the distinguished gentleman (one of Bangladesh’s most successful businessmen) who had advised me to jog there: “Thank you Sir for you ‘jogging’ suggestion. I was also seriously thinking of this option. Yes, I’ll surely manage to reach in time by vehicles, on foot, again by vehicles, again on foot . . . . And, I’ll go. I’ll be there in time by any means.” Someone said, “Change the schedule once more.” I wrote, “The schedule can’t be changed! Hopefully, there will happen some miracle and I’ll manage to avail the schedule in time.” A younger brother wrote, “Brother, you should go by taxi-cab. But you could try the bus once. Dhaka buses run quite well!” I replied, “Brother, I’m not surely making any attempt of getting on a bus! That’ll be horrible, you know. I was just seeking for a suggestion as I don’t know about the route. Thanks for the suggestion. I think a CNG powered taxi can help me in this regard. A taxi-cab is prone to getting stuck up in the congestion forever. A bike could be a better solution. But, I can’t manage it.”

Mrs. Zohra, whose name was Ira—an extremely distinguished lady—commented, “You need a bike?” “That would be wonderful.” “Alright, let me see what I can do.” She was the Deputy Managing Director of ONE Bank. After completing her studies in Chemistry from Chittagong University, she had done her MBA from IBA. She worked in the corporate sector, but there were very few people who didn’t know her. I have a sister. Her name is Sharmin Muiz Khan. At that time, she was one of those rare souls who loved someone as insignificant as me far more than necessary, showered me with affection for no particular reason. She was almost my mother’s age, but I addressed her as ‘tumi’ and she called me ‘tui’. She had studied English Literature at Dhaka University. She particularly loved my writing. She was a business magnate and had connections with many prominent people. I have rarely seen a lady as distinguished, refined, elegant, and utterly graceful as her. She commented, “Bappi, someone needs to grab you and give you a good thrashing. Are you enjoying confusing everyone by calling them all the time? Please stop wasting your time browsing Facebook and concentrate on tomorrow’s exam. Otherwise, you’re calling for another disaster. There is a saying: ‘Que sera, sera’ meaning: Whatever will be, will be. So, pray and try your best. I have given this opinion after a lot of serious thoughts. Please follow it. You will leave here right now. I don’t want to see you making even one more comment! MIRACLES HAPPEN IF YOU BELIEVE IN YOURSELF!” I replied, “Didi, things are that they’re. Things will be that they will be. And, between this two there lie some miracles that we’re never aware of. And, miracles are often stranger than facts. Facts are because they’re. Miracles are because we or someone else wants them to be. That’s the truth!” She called Mrs. Zohra. She said, “Look Ira, my brother has gotten into a bit of trouble. The poor thing is a simple soul, we should do something for him. Can’t you arrange a bike for him?” A little while later, I saw a message from Mrs. Zohra in my inbox: “Please give me your contact number. Regards” I gave it immediately. The call came within seconds. After introducing herself, she said, “You need a bike Monday at 4 PM, right?” “That would be wonderful.” “OK, a bike will be there for you at 4. My colleague Romel will pick you. Alright?” “I am truly, truly grateful. Thank you so very much!” “Let’s get the work done first, then you can thank me. I’m texting you Romel’s number. Take care.” She hung up immediately. I wrote to her: “Life is stranger than fiction, I repeat. From myself, I’ve got much less than I truly deserve. From others, I’ve got much more than I truly deserve. Is it the thing that they call miracle? I don’t know and never try to know. I let miracles happen and thankfully they always happen . . . . . . . Thank you for your generous approach. This really means a lot to me.” I wrote my piece. I don’t know if she ever read it or had the time to read it. Noble souls don’t wait for thanks. Besides, she was truly, truly busy.

He was the head of the credit section at One Bank. He had no reason to know a nobody like me, yet he knew me through my writing. Otherwise, I would never have had the privilege of speaking with him directly. And the fact that Sharmin didi had spoken to him about me—that was a big deal too. The next day was the Bangladesh Affairs Paper 2 exam. I went to sleep without studying any of it. The day after, straight from the exam hall, I went to the Westex showroom at Probortak intersection. My life’s first interview. I was incredibly excited! I had decided I’d go to the interview board wearing everything brand new. I bought a formal white shirt, black pants, black tie, black belt, black socks, white undershirt, and brown shoes. Later, from Gallery Apex I bought formal Oxford shoes, and from Time Zone a Titan wristwatch, then returned home in the evening. Seeing my antics, Ma was laughing. “Ma, why are you laughing?” “Just because, dear.” The funny thing was, Ma went with me to the exam hall every single day. She always kept me close, just like a child. Ma said, “Tomorrow I’m going to the airport with you.” And she did go—despite my protests.

Monday, the 17th. International Affairs exam. I couldn’t stay in the exam hall for the entire time due to nerves. I don’t have a car, what if the CNG takes too long to reach the airport! What if I miss the flight! The flight was at 3:20. And it takes at least 2 hours to reach the airport from Omar Gani MES College by 1 PM. Our written exam had been during winter. In the bitter cold, my fingers would freeze. Still, I kept rubbing my palms together to warm them, blowing hot breath into the hollow of my cupped hands, and wrote with all my strength. Instead of 1 o’clock, I finished the exam at 12:30, submitted my paper, and rushed out. When I emerged from the hall and reached the gate, everyone thought I must have been expelled! The intense stress was clearly written all over my face. Many showed me sympathy, told me not to worry, advised me to do better in the next BCS. I didn’t have time to respond. What could I say anyway—at that moment, life itself was one giant question mark for me! I don’t know what strength possessed my mother. She ran almost twice as fast as me, covering the distance from the college campus to the road. We got into a CNG without bargaining, paying nearly one and a half times the normal fare. I told the driver, “However you manage it, get us to the airport within two hours. If necessary, I’ll pay you extra.” It was 12:50 on the clock. The CNG started speeding. Mother opened the tiffin box and fed me khichuri, meat, and fried egg. One thought kept spinning in my head: “Will I catch the plane? If we get stuck in traffic, it’s all over!” I took off my sweater. I had left home that morning wearing my viva outfit, everything except the tie. After escaping two minor traffic jams, when we reached the airport, it was 5 minutes to 3. As soon as I got down, I touched my mother’s and aunt’s feet in respect (a distant aunt had come with us since mother couldn’t return home from the airport alone) and ran to the counter. There I learned that the flight was delayed by an hour due to dense fog. I thought, if the plane leaves at that time, there’s no way I can reach IBA by 5:15. I informed the counter staff about this. They said there was nothing they could do; they were very sorry. I inquired and learned that no other flights were departing at that time either. At that moment, I felt utterly helpless, just wanting to cry. I felt like I had no one, no one at all! I kept going from counter to counter. I found out there was a Bangladesh Biman flight departing at 3:45. There was no other flight before that. It was a bigger plane, taking 30 minutes to reach, whereas other planes take at least 40 minutes. Meaning, I would reach Dhaka airport by 4:15! I bought the ticket right then. There was great hope in my heart—if this one leaves on time, there’s nothing more to worry about. I went to the airport restroom and quickly put on my tie. I adjusted my shirt once more. Looking in the mirror, I fixed my hair with my hand. The clock hand crossed 4 after passing 3:45. The plane was delayed due to fog. We all boarded the plane at 4:15. It was my first time on a plane. I kept thinking, when will it take off, when will it take off! Every second felt like an hour! The tension was making it hard to breathe, yet the plane wouldn’t take off. I thought, oh! If only I could spend all my strength to make this plane soar into the sky! I pressed my handkerchief over my eyes to hide my tears. Finally, the plane took off. It was 4:37 on the clock. I was thinking, oh!

The plane could have taken off directly without taxiing! At least a couple of minutes would have been saved! The plane landed on Dhaka’s runway at 5:13.

I burst out of the domestic terminal running with all my might, and gasping for breath, I saw a motorcycle come to a stop right in front of me. “You’re Sushanta, right? Get on the back!” I extended my hand to shake hands with the young man in the black helmet. He didn’t raise his black-gloved right fist for a handshake. “Time’s wasting, brother! Please get on! Quick!” I didn’t argue further. “You’re not used to riding bikes, are you?” “Yes. How did you know?” “Brother, I’ve been riding bikes for the past 18-20 years. I can tell.” “I see.” “Lean forward and press your chest firmly against my back! You can even wrap your arms around me, otherwise you’ll get thrown off. For sure! I’m going to ride fast.” The way that bike tore out of the airport—I don’t have the courage to even think about it today. Under normal circumstances, I might have screamed in fear and told him to stop, or I really would have been thrown off. But at that moment I knew that being afraid was important, but far more important was reaching IBA alive. I don’t know if the wheels of that 150cc bike actually touched the ground that day, but for the second time in my life I understood this truth: you cannot frighten someone who stakes their life to touch their dreams. I had only seen bikes racing so recklessly on the roads in movies. The bike was literally cutting through the whooshing sound of wind, as if flying through the air! “Say brother, are you somebody really important?” “What do you mean?” “Well, Madam told me that one of her very important friends had to be delivered from the airport to IBA within half an hour, no matter what. That was her order! Who are you, brother? Hahahaha………” “I’m Madam’s Facebook friend.” “What are you saying, man? How’s that possible! I was thinking even more… you mean you’ve never even met her?” “No, brother. Why?” (There’s a railway crossing ahead. The barrier is coming down.) “Brother, duck your head a little.” Saying this, he quickly rode the bike under the barrier without obeying the signal. Many people behind us were shouting for us to stop. “Brother, just don’t be afraid. Nothing will happen. You can close your eyes if you want.” Right at that moment, while quickly emerging from between two trucks standing side by side, he said, “Sit a bit smaller, brother!” A little further ahead—massive traffic jam at a signal! Romel bhai lifted the bike onto the sidewalk. “Brother, please give way a little, give way a little,” he kept saying as he raced forward. He had to do this several times. Sometimes when riding on the central divider in the middle of the road, traffic police would catch us, and he’d say in a tearful voice, “Sir, my aunt is fighting for her life in the medical college. I’m going to donate blood. O-negative blood—we can’t find any. If I don’t reach on time, we won’t be able to save my aunt, sir!” He’d manage the police with this story and then race off at the same speed again! Whenever there was a traffic jam on the road, he’d immediately change to another road. That day I learned that when obstacles appear on the road, it doesn’t mean there is no road. Rather, it means you have to take a different road! Right now!! I had only seen such daredevil biking in Hollywood action movies. Looking at my hair in the bike’s mirror, it seemed as if it had stood up straight after an electric shock! My face was covered with dust from the city. In the fierce wind, my tie was flying behind me in the air. I don’t know if anyone has ever seen a bike race so recklessly through Dhaka’s roads during rush hour. But for some reason, I truly wasn’t afraid at all. I kept thinking over and over, “How quickly can one reach IBA!” Romel bhai had finished his honors and master’s from Dhaka College before joining the bank. I had asked him, “What’s your designation at the bank?” He had joked, “Not much, just 14 more promotions and I’ll be able to sit in Zohra Madam’s chair. Hahaha…….”

When I arrived in front of IBA, my watch showed 5:52. As I got down, I saw my younger brother Pappu and his friend Arefin standing there. At that time, I had my gift shop ‘Dobhana.’ Pappu and Arefin were my working partners. They often came to Dhaka from Chawk Bazaar in Old Dhaka to buy wholesale goods for the shop. I had withdrawn myself from the shop to focus on my BCS exam preparation. They ran everything. They were already in Dhaka on shop business. I had told them to go to the IBA MBA program office and keep me updated by phone about the viva board situation. Through repeated conversations with them, I was checking whether the interview board was still there, asking them to go to the program office and explain that I couldn’t arrive on time due to flight delays, terrible traffic jams, and so on. As soon as I got down, they informed me, “Bhaiya, the board left 4-5 minutes ago. Now only the Executive MBA viva remains.” After introducing them to Romel bhai, I rushed up to the MBA program office on the second floor. As soon as they saw me, everyone there stopped their work and looked at me. I saw Rahi Sir busy with something; he didn’t respond to my greeting. “Sir, I’m very late. Despite trying hard, I couldn’t arrive on time. I…” Without giving me a chance to say anything more, he shouted, “You Idiot! Get out!” “Sir, I…” “I said, Get out! Out! Out!! I knew very well that you wouldn’t be able to come on time. Is it possible to take one exam in Chittagong and then come to Dhaka for another exam? That easy? You’ve just wasted my time! I had told everyone that a boy from Chittagong would come at 5:15, and we needed to take his viva. Did you think I am a joker?” “Sir, I came here with great difficulty. The flight was delayed, there was heavy traffic on the road. I really…” “It’s none of my business! Get out! Go back where you came from.” “Sir, I had many dreams of studying at IBA.” “Everyone on the street has such dreams. I gave you a chance but you missed it. That’s all! Get out of here.” “Sir, please have some mercy…” (I felt like falling at his feet and crying…) Right beside him sat a gentle-looking gentleman much younger than the sir. He said, “Sir, I’ve heard about him. His younger brother kept coming to our program office. They had been standing in front of the office for hours. His flight was indeed delayed. And there’s heavy traffic in Dhaka today too. A friend of mine came to my room from the airport a while ago; it took him a long time to get here too. Give him a chance, Sir. He’s come so far, taking such risks with great difficulty! He apparently has another written exam tomorrow too. The poor fellow has to return to Chittagong today itself.” “Son, you junior faculty members don’t even know what you’re saying, what kind of requests you make. Why are you pleading for him? Is he your relative or something?” “No no Sir, I’m seeing him for the first time today. Just look at his face once, Sir. He’s really come here with great difficulty. Please do him a favor, Sir.” “You have no idea what you are talking about! Will the Executive MBA viva be the same as theirs? They have 3 years of job experience, while these are just children in comparison!

“This won’t be possible, brother. I am sorry!” “Sir, please help the poor fellow a bit. He’s come such a long way with so much hope!” “Son, we can’t manage anything more for you!” I stood a little distance away, head bowed. Looking at me, he called out loudly, “Hey, stupid! Why are you standing there like a donkey? Go on, go to the third floor! Go and stand there absolutely quietly. We’ll call you.” I truly couldn’t understand whether such a beautiful moment had ever come anywhere in this world before! Tears began streaming down my face. I prayed again and again from my heart for Babu sir. Rahi sir seemed like a father figure to me. I kept remembering mother’s words: “Never get angry at teachers’ scolding. When teachers scold, it means blessings.” Overwhelmed with emotion, as I was about to leave after thanking and saluting the teachers, Rahi sir called from behind, “Hey crazy boy! Comb your hair before entering the board! Wash your face at the basin! Don’t be so scared! Hahaha…” I couldn’t say anything more. I kept staring blankly at sir’s face. My cheeks were wet with tears from both eyes. Babu sir placed his hand on my shoulder and said, “Go on, go upstairs and wait. We are not that much bad people as you thought us to be. Sometimes even the IBA faculties are too good! Freshen up, give your interview properly, now there’s no tension anymore. What’s your exam tomorrow?” “Sir, Mathematical Reasoning and Mental Ability.” “How will you go?” “Sir, I have a return plane ticket.” “Good! Brother, splash some water on your eyes and face to fix your appearance. Give your viva quickly and rush to the airport! Good luck!” At that moment I felt like touching sir’s feet in salute. People get frightened by sudden intense love. For the first time, it suddenly struck me: “What if I can’t honor this love of my teachers? What if I don’t get a chance at IBA in the end?”

When we find ourselves in trouble, if our intentions are pure, a way out always emerges! I went to the washroom on the third floor and tried my best to “make myself presentable” by wetting my hair and smoothing it down. After splashing water on my face, I went and waited in front of the notice board. I was called after 10 minutes. It was nearly seven o’clock. When I entered the room, I saw many faculty members seated there. I hadn’t known that so many would be present for an interview. I thought this was perhaps how IBA interviews were conducted. I later learned that this entire panel had been assembled just for me. Apart from Babu Sir and Rahi Sir, I didn’t recognize anyone else. After getting admitted, I realized that those present that evening were IBA’s most senior and accomplished faculty members. The board included Saiful Majid Sir, Shama-e-Zahir Sir, Mamun Sir, Munir Khosru Sir, Niaz Sir, and Saif Noman Khan Sir. Most of the junior faculty had finished their interviews and gone home, while some senior faculty were in their offices conducting Executive MBA interviews. Some of them had been specially called in. I was in the interview for about 18-20 minutes. Many of the faculty members knew about my situation that day. I had heard of something called “divine possession” in life. At certain special moments, due to particular external influences or circumstances, people suddenly gain extraordinary power. In those moments, they step outside their normal state and display different behavior. They can harness the utmost potential of their inner infinite strength. In that wondrous balanced fusion of emotion and capability, the best version of themselves emerges. From the moment I entered the interview room, I had very likely become a different person, or perhaps the very best ‘me’ from within had emerged that day. By what divine signal this happened, I don’t know. No hesitation, doubt, nervousness, fear, the day’s exhaustion, or lethargy was affecting me at all. I felt incredibly composed and light as a feather. It felt as though whatever I was saying or doing was the best possible. I was experiencing the finest moment of my life right then and there. I can say with complete honesty that the style in which I spoke English that day—I have never in my entire life, even to this day, been able to speak English so flawlessly and fluently. That day the faculty members engaged in various kinds of humor during the interview. They were having great fun with me. Most likely, the faculty wanted to “shake me up” somehow. I don’t know why, by whose indication I don’t know, but I kept answering all their questions one by one with a very cool head and a smile that day. They interviewed me in English on various diverse topics, starting from describing the entire day’s events and the preceding Facebook incidents to many other subjects. (Of course, at IBA there’s absolutely no opportunity to give interviews in Bengali.) Why I wanted to pursue an MBA, why IBA if I was going to take government job exams anyway, my weaknesses, whether I’d ever been in love, how I spend my leisure time, some conversation about reading books, various economic issues of Bangladesh, some personal and family matters, my future plans, the breathless motorcycle journey from A to Z, the BCS examination system, why I went into engineering despite having no interest, why I delayed my honors degree, why I didn’t study properly, why my CGPA was so low, what I like to eat, what kind of personality I prefer in people, what I know about IBA, some current affairs, and several other questions. I was answering very quickly in correct English. The faculty praised this too. I gave a very simple, straightforward, and candid interview. I didn’t speak a single false word that day.

I didn’t need to think before speaking—whatever came to mind, I simply said, so there was no chance to fabricate lies. At the end, they asked me to sing a song. When I said, “I can’t, Sir,” Babu Sir showed me my info-form and laughed, saying, “But you’ve claimed so.” I had written Reading, Writing, Singing in the hobbies section… At that moment, it felt like I was living the best day of my life. I sang, “Aaj ei dintake…” “I see, we’re getting a singer for our cultural program!” As Saiful Majid Sir was saying this, Babu Sir interjected, “Sir, he has another exam tomorrow. He’ll probably be flying back to Chittagong tonight.” Then three or four teachers exclaimed in unison, “What! He’s going back to Chittagong right now? Well then, run along, run along! Go downstairs and see if your superman biker is there! Hahahaha…” As I was leaving with my salaam, the teachers called out, “Best of luck for your tomorrow’s exam.” I kept thinking, again and again—I’ll make it, I’ll make it! (Even after giving the BCS viva, I didn’t feel this good.)

When I stepped out of IBA, it was half past seven on the clock. I knew there was no way I could catch the 7:45 flight. I also knew that I had no idea how I would get to Chittagong that night. I didn’t even feel like thinking about it. Only the exhilarating rush of having given a good exam was coursing through me. Pappu and Arefin had been waiting for me at Madhu’s canteen. Taking them along, I went to the front of Dhaka University’s Central Library and leisurely began eating vegetable pakoras and tea. Many of my students studied in various departments at Dhaka University. Quite a few came to see me. They were asking what questions had been asked in the interview. After a day of incredible experiences, my head had become almost entirely empty. I couldn’t understand why I wasn’t feeling the slightest urgency to return to Chittagong. Pappu asked, “Brother, will you take the night bus?” I said, “Yes, that could work.” (It amuses me now to think how casually I had said ‘that could work’!) The road conditions weren’t good then either, there were always traffic jams. It didn’t even occur to me—what would happen if I couldn’t reach by 10 AM tomorrow? Ripon, a dear younger brother who lived in Chittagong and was one of my former students, said, “Brother, I have a non-AC train ticket; for Turna Nishitha, leaving tonight. It doesn’t matter if I don’t go to Chittagong today. Brother, you take it.” “Alright, fine,” I said, took the ticket, and set off toward Kamalapur Station. That night the train left nearly an hour and a half late. I didn’t even want to think about what was going to happen! I had already surrendered myself to fate long before. In my mind I kept repeating only this: whatever will be, will be. Whether I want it or not, it will happen. And whatever is happening is surely for the good; whatever will happen will surely be for the good too. Let’s see! After the day’s exhaustion, I had a very peaceful sleep. Suddenly I woke up hearing commotion around me. The train had stopped at Comilla. Apparently there was some problem with the line. We were delayed there for nearly two and a quarter hours. I couldn’t understand why I wasn’t feeling any kind of anxiety! I fell asleep again. Sleep is the world’s only faithful lover. Whenever I want it, I find it near. Never, under any circumstances, does it abandon me. There can be no purer love than the love for sleep.

When the train reached Chittagong railway station the next day, it was a quarter to ten in the morning. My exam was scheduled to start at ten. It takes only fifteen minutes to get from the station to my house. When I got home, I found my mother sitting there with everything ready in her hands—my pencil box, board, scale, pen, calculator, admit card, registration card, all of it. My parents had been terribly anxious at home. I hadn’t been able to speak to them since after half past one at night. My mobile had run out of charge. (I was using a cheap Nokia 1100 mobile set back then. Everyone called it the “national set”! It was so sturdy that many would joke, “Dude, you could crack jackfruit with that phone!” I’d tease my friends who used expensive mobiles, saying, “My phone’s model is ‘N Eleven Zero Zero’!”) As soon as my mother saw me, she said, “Dear, how are you? Will you take today’s exam?” I felt emotionally numb. It seemed as though I was lighter than a feather at that moment, floating around in some kind of trance! I smiled and said, “Ma, I’m perfectly fine. I’ll take the exam.” Saying this, I took the packed shopping bag from my mother’s hands and left the house just as I was. It was 10:05 on the clock. From our house to the exam center, it takes at least thirty minutes by CNG during office hours. When I reached the college gate, it was 10:43. That day was the mathematical reasoning and mental ability test. The first two hours were mathematical reasoning, followed by one hour of mental ability. The exam had already started forty-three minutes earlier. Naturally, the police wouldn’t let me enter. I pleaded extensively, kept trying futilely to explain what had happened, but they weren’t willing to listen to anything. But I had made up my mind—I wasn’t going to turn back, I would get inside no matter what. A small commotion started gathering there. Seeing the crowd, the magistrate came over. After hearing my entire story, he said, “You only have one hour left. Can you finish all the math problems in this time?” Without a moment’s hesitation, I said, “I can, sir!” “Alright, go ahead. Good luck!” My heart overflowed with gratitude toward him. At that moment, he seemed to me not human, but divine! I went in, looked at the questions, took the exam. I even showed three problems to the person sitting next to me. (He got a job in Audit and Accounts in the 30th batch.) I scored 98 on that day’s exam—50 in math, 48 in mental ability. After that… well, as everyone says—the rest is history!

But this much is true: had that day’s exam been something other than mathematics, I would have been in real trouble. I can handle math because the type of problems that appeared in the BCS written exam back then weren’t particularly difficult for me to solve. Such problems don’t strain the mind much, and the 30th BCS written exam featured relatively easy math. Even if I worked through each step carefully and added side notes, it shouldn’t have taken more than half an hour. It didn’t for me either. However, spending two and a half hours on the International Affairs exam the day before had been risky. Actually, no matter how incredible the whole affair might seem, everything appears to have been predetermined by the Creator or nature itself. What remains inexplicable to our limited understanding is simply a natural, ordinary occurrence for the Creator. All our failures and successes are already decided beforehand. But to reach that point, the effort—or making the right decision at the right time—that we must do ourselves. I wasn’t even supposed to pass my undergraduate degree. Yet it was my destiny to complete my undergraduate studies, become a BCS cadre, study at IBA—all of it was written in my fate. Had my destiny been bound elsewhere, I would have gone there instead. I had enrolled in another master’s program under Dhaka University—MDS. After continuing that course for three months, I left it of my own accord. They had said I would need to officially hide the fact that I was simultaneously pursuing another master’s at IBA. I refused to lie. I harbor no regret about this, though. I’ve accepted that pursuing that particular master’s degree simply wasn’t written in my destiny. This is the truth, this is reality. I had gained admission to Dhaka University’s Evening MBA program in Finance, ranking sixth on the merit list, but never had to attend classes there. I received my IBA admission test results before that. I did complete my master’s in Finance from Dhaka University, but the Evening MBA program wasn’t destined for me, so I didn’t pursue my master’s degree from there.

Stepping into two boats in the middle of a river ensures certain death. Logic dictates this. But I placed my feet in two boats, taking the maximum risk—I had no other choice—yet both boats moved forward in parallel at the same speed at the same time, so I didn’t slip between them and lose my life. What explanation could there be for this? Life doesn’t follow logic; life follows the Creator’s signals. Life doesn’t always operate according to explanations. Sometimes life moves on faith. So there’s nothing to say about anyone’s personal philosophy and the life they live according to their beliefs, as long as that life doesn’t interfere with someone else’s way of living. Somewhere, no explicable form of life can be seen, and life is just like this!

Through sheer mental strength alone, I had believed that some miracle would surely occur. It did happen, because in Providence’s master plan, that’s what was meant to happen. Everything in between was the Creator’s games or plans to test my patience and concentration. You will never be given a gift you don’t deserve. You will be tested, and if you fail to pass that test, you will deprive yourself of the Creator’s grace through your own fault. I’m sharing with you the Facebook status I posted after the IBA admission test results came out, along with a couple of my own comments on it:

Friends, I’ve been finally selected for admission into the MBA Program of IBA, Dhaka University. …… feeling happy. ……. HATS OFF to Sharmeen didi, Ira madam & Romel bhai!!

# My dear friends….. Your gorgeous presence on my wall makes me think twice about the POWER of friendship & the MAGIC of love. YES……… They matter!! I just want to be with you forever. Please never say GOODBYE…. It hurts!! Your kindness and care mean a lot to me. You’ve always given me much more than I really deserve. Please accept my sincere GRATITUDE.

Happy Social Networking!!

Long live Facebook!!

My best wishes for our Friendship!!

……… Love you all ……

# (To one of my close friends) Dost, not reaching the Interview Session on 17 January at 5:30 pm was what I thought to be….. reaching there in time was what was written in my DESTINY….. And, I ended up calling it a MIRACLE, something I never believed in before…… Just have a look at the schedule of 17 January……

International Affairs Exam (BCS written exam)…. 10:00 am — 1:00 pm

The departure time of the GMG Airlines: 3:20 pm, there was a delay of about 1 hour due to fog and I availed another delayed flight of Bangladesh Biman at 4:37 pm.

The plane landed on Dhaka Airport at 5:13 pm and then I started my fight against time to meet the deadline by bike with Romel bhai!! Who managed those three saviours (Sharmeen didi, Ira madam & Romel bhai) for me? I don’t know. You better ask the Heaven! I saw such a breath-taking motor-bike driving only in English movies. Before that day, I had never thought I would experience it!!

Life is sometimes stranger than fiction . . . . Who can tell it better than I?

# (To one of my senior high-profile Indian friends) Thank you Sir for your words of felicitation. IBA of Dhaka University is considered as the most prestigious institute for doing MBA in Bangladesh. As per the rules of that Business School, the Major/Field of Specialization is allowed to be chosen at the final semester judging the academic records & intention of a candidate. I don’t have much idea about what to choose and why to choose. Please share some ideas on it as you’ve huge practical knowledge (so far as I know) about the present corporate trend.

You’ve nicely stated the trend of our careerist B-school graduates. No one really cares about their own aptitude, rather, tries to be what market wants them to be. Personally, I always like the decision-making and mainstream operational sections of giant companies. And, probably I’ll go for finance as my major when I’ve to choose it in my final semester. Yes, my semester results must be well enough to work on my advantage. That’ll be a story of one and a half years later. Till then, I’ll have to undergo the generalized curriculum as my B-school formulates. The recent economic recession worries our friends studying at the US universities. And, almost all of them suggest me not to plan of staying there. But at the same time, they suggest me completing my PhD in the US if I want to and grab that opportunity. Let’s wait and see. . . . . Are you in India now? Hope you’re quite OK along with your busy schedule. Please, sometimes give me your valuable suggestions when you’ve time and you’re here on Facebook. . . . . Thank you once again for your helpful advice. Take care.

In explaining the final part of the status shared above, I had written these words:

Let me share the Story behind the Story and elucidate the last part of my status. It would have been quite impossible for me to reach Dhaka University from Dhaka International Airport within just 50 minutes (!!) to attend the interview session of IBA in time on Jan 17, but for the cordial help of Sharmeen didi (Sharmeen Muiz) & Ira madam (Johora Bebe Ira). They’re the persons who made that miracle happen!! And, Romel bhai (Monirul Alam Romel) is the “Man with the Bike” who dared fight against time to meet the deadline!! ……. I feel honoured to express my heartfelt gratitude to these three saviours. …….. Miracles Happen When You Believe!!

I conclude this piece with a beautifully strange comment Sharmeen didi made on that status: “My prayers, good wishes, and prayers remain with you. Dear brother of mine, may you grow to great heights. And may the successful reflection of our efforts (Ira’s and mine) shine through in everything you do. I was there, I am here, I will be there. …….. Heaps of hugs and love.”

What sustains a human being? We live on love, on prayers, on good wishes. These are what keep me alive—quite well alive, in fact. My gratitude!

P.S. Let me offer you some practical wisdom. Those who think they know too much, who consider themselves supremely intelligent, who speak in grand terms without any real qualifications or notable position, who try to diminish others even through outright lies, who pontificate without knowledge, who speak to you in such a manner that you begin to doubt your own confidence—I would advise you to absolutely, absolutely, and absolutely avoid such people. They themselves cannot go very far in life, nor will they allow you to go very far either.

(Written 2-3 years ago)

I thought, why should I surrender before I’ve even lost? I’ll see this through to the end. At home, my parents were also saying, “Give up one of them.” My heart was telling me, “I won’t give up, not for anything!” Let me gamble with life this once and see what happens! You have to listen to your heart. I called the MBA Program Office. Zakir bhai was in charge there. He said, “IBA’s schedule doesn’t change for anyone. You change your schedule.” I said, “That’s not possible. You have several slots. BCS has only one.” Even after that he said, “It’s not possible in any way. We’re sorry!” Saying this, he hung up the phone, and my stubbornness only grew stronger. I put aside studying for the next day’s exam. After some inquiries, I learned that Rahi Sir was the Program Chairman for IBA’s MBA at the time. Only he could change my interview slot if he wanted to. Rahi Sir is an incredibly fierce person. IBA’s Marketing Department is the best in Bangladesh. Rahi Sir is the best faculty in that department. I got his number. The person I got the number from asked, “Are you really going to call Rahi Sir?” “Yes. Why?” “We students never dare to call Sir. And you’re going to call him for this?” “I will. I have to. My back is against the wall.” “God bless you, man! You better think twice.” I said, “Sometimes life doesn’t give you the opportunity to think twice. It’s the first and the only chance! I must grab it before it’s too late! I will call him. I’ll make my attempt—if it works, it works; if not, so be it. If I don’t try, it definitely won’t work. Thank you, bhai!” Right after finishing that conversation, without any second thoughts, I called Rahi Sir. A man with an extremely serious voice. It’s frightening just to speak with him. But I have nothing left to lose. I only know this: I passed IBA’s written exam and IBA has to conduct my interview. I had truly become reckless. I blurted out my entire problem in one breath. Rahi Sir said, “You silly kid! You’ve dared to call Rahi Sir for this! Did you think I am your friend? It’s not my business whether you can attend the viva board or not. You have only 2 choices: Leave IBA, or, Leave BCS.” To my infinite amazement, I heard myself saying, “Sir, I have called you to hear about the third choice. If you don’t have that, please make it for me. I know I’ll be at IBA.” Sir said very loudly over the phone, “You are a stupid little boy. You just know nothing about the things here! Don’t waste my time. I am busy!” “Sir, please give me a chance. I am………” I couldn’t make him hear any more—he hung up before that. I couldn’t understand what had happened, only felt an even stronger desire to believe that I would definitely study at IBA. BCS seemed to fade for a moment. Whatever happens in tomorrow’s exam will happen. Right now I need to sort out the IBA situation first. I called the program office again.

I asked, “When can I actually meet Rahi sir?” “What do you mean?” “Sir told me to come see him.” “Ask sir himself when you can actually meet him.” (I mustered the courage to lie….) “Sir said to call the program office and find out.” “He told you to ask us? Really! Alright, stay on the line, let me check sir’s class schedule.” Zakir bhai informed me that if I came next Friday evening, I could meet sir. Saying “thank you very much,” I hung up the phone and immediately left home to buy a bus ticket. From near Gariullah Shah’s shrine in Chittagong, I bought a ticket on Unique’s non-AC bus to Dhaka for Thursday night. The next day, under tremendous mental pressure, I took my Bangladesh Studies Paper 1 exam. Even in the exam hall, my mind kept racing: “Will Rahi sir keep his word?” In my answer sheet, I mistakenly wrote the word “Rahi” several times, though I crossed it out later.

I arrived at IBA before afternoon on Friday. I stood waiting in front of the MBA Program Office. Zakir bhai wasn’t there at the time—he came in the evening, two hours later. I went up and introduced myself. “Oh, I see, you’ve come from Chittagong. Rahi sir mentioned he would speak with you about changing your interview schedule? Really??” “Yes, he told me to come see him!” We were talking when Rahi sir arrived shortly after. He went straight through the program office into his room. A dignified man of serious disposition. His office was right next to the program office. Zakir bhai said, “Please sit on the sofa. Let me ask sir if he’s free right now.” When he told sir, “Someone named Sushanta Pal has come from Chittagong to see you—you had asked him to come,” sir immediately shouted quite loudly, “I didn’t ask anyone to come see me! Tell him to leave. Disgusting!” Zakir bhai told me, “Sir won’t see you. You should go.” “I’ll leave, but only after meeting with sir. Brother, I haven’t come here to turn back. I must see him.” Almost forcefully, I entered sir’s room without permission. After I said very politely, “Assalamu alaikum, sir,” he returned the greeting and said, “What do you want?” There were several other students in the room who had come to sir for various matters. “Sir, I called you the day before yesterday evening.” “Is it my duty to remember your call? Get out!” I said nothing and stood there with my head bowed. The words “Get out!” didn’t register in my mind. At that moment, I only knew that I would speak with Rahi sir about changing the schedule, and sir would surely agree to do so. After standing like this for nearly half an hour, sir said, “Why are you standing here like a statue?” I fearfully placed an application about changing the time slot on sir’s desk and began to say, “Sir, the day before yesterday I spoke with you on the phone…” “Speak in the language I am using now.” “Sir, my interview has been scheduled for next Monday at 10 in the morning. I am appearing for the 30th BCS written exam. I have an exam at the same time. So, I request you to shift my schedule to another convenient time slot.” “Sorry, we cannot.” “Please Sir! Otherwise, my dream to be here will be shattered.” “Let it be. Just go for BCS. You will do better being a civil servant.” “But Sir, it’s uncertain.” “Is being here certain for you?” “No Sir, that’s why I cannot leave any of these 2 opportunities. Please Sir, give me a chance. Do me a favour. I will be ever grateful, Sir.” “What time is your exam?” “10 o’clock, sir.” “How long?” “Three hours, sir.” “Okay fine, come straight here after your exam. Can you make it by 1:30?” I realized sir had forgotten that I’d come from Chittagong. “Sir, I’m taking the exam from Chittagong.” “Stupid! We cannot change our schedule for you! Are you Mr President?” “No Sir, I just want to be your student! I will do anything you tell me to do. Please give me a chance, Sir!” “Look, brother, you won’t be able to finish your exam at 1 o’clock and come from Chittagong to take the interview anyway.

You won’t make it even if you leave at 10 PM. The roads are in terrible condition, there’s heavy traffic.” “Sir, I can come in the evening.” “How? By plane?” “Yes, sir. Please give me a chance, sir.” “Alright. Don’t you have an exam the next day?” “I do, sir. I can manage. I’ll buy a return ticket.” “What time can you arrive?” “Whatever you say, sir.” “Your exam will end at 1 PM. Hmm… okay, can you make it to the 3 o’clock board?” “Yes sir, I can be there at 3.” “Do you know if there are flights at that time?” “I don’t know, sir. I’ll find out.” “I think there’s a flight around 3.” “What time can you arrive?” “4 o’clock, sir?” “Foolish boy! Your brain isn’t working. How can you take a 3 o’clock flight from Chittagong and get from the airport to IBA by 4? You have no idea about Dhaka city. Okay, you come by 5:15 sharp. You will be last person in that board. If you come after that, nothing can be done. The evening board is for Executive MBA. It won’t be possible to hold your viva there. Okay?” “Thank you, sir.” “Youngman, you have decided to play with your life! Best of luck!” “Please pray for me, sir. I can do this!” Tears came to my eyes. I realized that though this man appeared stern on the outside, he was very gentle within. I offered many prayers for the sir and left IBA. I went to Aziz and bought some books. Then I went to Fakirapul and took the 10 PM non-AC bus from Unique, reaching Chittagong in the morning.

I’m sharing the application with you:

15 January 2011

The Program Director, MBA Program

Institute of Business Administration

University of Dhaka

Dhaka

Subject: Prayer for changing the time slot of the interview schedule of the MBA Program Admission

Sir,

This letter expresses my earnest request to change my interview schedule of the MBA Program Admission 2010-2011. I am a candidate for Full-Time Course, my admit number is 2745 and I am on Interview Board 6 scheduled to be conducted at the 10:00 am to 1:00 pm time slot on January 17, 2011. I am appearing at the 30th BCS written examination and my Examination Centre is at Chittagong. I have an examination on January 17, 2011, coincided with the same time slot of the interview and so it is not possible for me to come from Chittagong and attend the interview at 10:00 am.

I will be highly obliged if you kindly permit me to attend the interview at the 6:00 pm to 8:30 pm time slot scheduled for Evening Board 3 and Evening Board 4 on January 17, 2011.

Yours faithfully

Sushanta Paul

I had never been on a plane before. I thought that wherever you go, you need a passport to fly. My elder brother called a friend who works with passport services and asked what documents are needed for an emergency passport to Dhaka. He burst out laughing! He said, “Buddy, what do you need a passport for? A plane and a bus are the same thing. One flies in the sky, the other runs on the road. That’s all there is to it! Just go buy a ticket. That’s it! Which one is good? You can go with GMG. That’s pretty good.” I didn’t know that you don’t have to rush to the airport to buy a plane ticket. I had no idea how much tickets cost. Getting off the bus in the morning, I went straight to a Dutch-Bangla Bank booth and withdrew ten thousand taka. Then I jumped into a CNG and rushed to the airport. I bought a ticket from the GMG Airlines counter for the 3:20 flight on Monday, the 17th. That was the first Chittagong-Dhaka flight of the afternoon. I booked a return ticket for the same day on the 7:45 evening flight. I felt like I could see it right before my eyes—me attending classes at IBA! Such a strange vision! I returned home with a victorious smile, almost as if I had already gotten into IBA! At night, I tried to prepare from various guides and the internet about what they might ask in the IBA interview. I studied for about 4-5 hours. At the same time, I posted a status on Facebook: How much time does it take to reach Dhaka University from Dhaka International Airport? Is it possible to reach in 40 minutes? Friends, any suggestion, please? I was truly a very simple person back then. I saw the world in very simple terms. Since I hadn’t visited Dhaka much, I didn’t know that in 2011 it wasn’t possible to get from the airport to Shahbag in 40 minutes. Everyone was saying it would take a minimum of two hours to get from the airport to the university campus in the afternoon. All sorts of bizarre comments came in reply to my status. Many started making fun of me. I’ll share some of my friends’ suggestions: “It’s possible if you run.” “It would be great if you jogged to the university. You’d get your evening exercise too!” “You shouldn’t have bought that plane ticket! With that money, if you had thrown us a party, we all would have prayed together and your BCS would have worked out! Hahahaha…..” “Young man! You’re young, just run as soon as you get off the plane! You’ll see, you’ll reach before time!” “Listen, such-and-such bus runs on such-and-such route. Hanging and sleeping, you’ll reach IBA just fine!” I got many such absurd comments. I knew absolutely nothing about Dhaka then. When you’re in trouble, doesn’t everyone have to give you a kick? It began to feel like that’s just how life is! People can’t extend a hand to pull you up, but they can certainly extend a foot to kick you down! Without getting the least bit discouraged by anyone’s words, I kept waiting to see if someone would give some good advice. I didn’t react to anyone’s reply that day. How helplessly calm a person becomes when in trouble. All I knew was this: “I’m giving my IBA interview on the 17th.” One person wrote, “You can go by bike. There’s no faster way to reach the university campus.” Some people even supported that idea. A few mentioned taxi cabs. Support was strongest for the bike option. Up until then, I had ridden a bike maybe 2-3 times in my entire life, counting generously. I didn’t really know anyone in Dhaka who had a bike, or if I did know someone, my mind wasn’t working at all then. Sometimes I think now, alas!

I couldn’t even afford to manage a bike at that time. I wrote, “My flight is scheduled to land at Dhaka Airport at 4.10 pm on 17 January. I must reach Dhaka University at or before 5.15 pm. I’ve an interview at IBA at that time. . . . Can’t I do it? Is it not possible? I need to do it at any cost. As I don’t know about the routes of Dhaka City, I’m asking for your help. Dhaka City is an unknown city to me. Can a taxi cab help me reach there in 1 hour? I can’t be late, otherwise I’ll miss the interview schedule. I’ve managed that schedule today through an application. . . Can a bike be a better solution? Or, something else? I’m in great trouble. . . .” After posting this, the mocking and laughter began all over again. I replied to the distinguished gentleman (one of Bangladesh’s most successful businessmen) who had advised me to jog there: “Thank you Sir for you ‘jogging’ suggestion. I was also seriously thinking of this option. Yes, I’ll surely manage to reach in time by vehicles, on foot, again by vehicles, again on foot . . . . And, I’ll go. I’ll be there in time by any means.” Someone said, “Change the schedule once more.” I wrote, “The schedule can’t be changed! Hopefully, there will happen some miracle and I’ll manage to avail the schedule in time.” A younger brother wrote, “Brother, you should go by taxi-cab. But you could try the bus once. Dhaka buses run quite well!” I replied, “Brother, I’m not surely making any attempt of getting on a bus! That’ll be horrible, you know. I was just seeking for a suggestion as I don’t know about the route. Thanks for the suggestion. I think a CNG powered taxi can help me in this regard. A taxi-cab is prone to getting stuck up in the congestion forever. A bike could be a better solution. But, I can’t manage it.”

Mrs. Zohra, whose name was Ira—an extremely distinguished lady—commented, “You need a bike?” “That would be wonderful.” “Alright, let me see what I can do.” She was the Deputy Managing Director of ONE Bank. After completing her studies in Chemistry from Chittagong University, she had done her MBA from IBA. She worked in the corporate sector, but there were very few people who didn’t know her. I have a sister. Her name is Sharmin Muiz Khan. At that time, she was one of those rare souls who loved someone as insignificant as me far more than necessary, showered me with affection for no particular reason. She was almost my mother’s age, but I addressed her as ‘tumi’ and she called me ‘tui’. She had studied English Literature at Dhaka University. She particularly loved my writing. She was a business magnate and had connections with many prominent people. I have rarely seen a lady as distinguished, refined, elegant, and utterly graceful as her. She commented, “Bappi, someone needs to grab you and give you a good thrashing. Are you enjoying confusing everyone by calling them all the time? Please stop wasting your time browsing Facebook and concentrate on tomorrow’s exam. Otherwise, you’re calling for another disaster. There is a saying: ‘Que sera, sera’ meaning: Whatever will be, will be. So, pray and try your best. I have given this opinion after a lot of serious thoughts. Please follow it. You will leave here right now. I don’t want to see you making even one more comment! MIRACLES HAPPEN IF YOU BELIEVE IN YOURSELF!” I replied, “Didi, things are that they’re. Things will be that they will be. And, between this two there lie some miracles that we’re never aware of. And, miracles are often stranger than facts. Facts are because they’re. Miracles are because we or someone else wants them to be. That’s the truth!” She called Mrs. Zohra. She said, “Look Ira, my brother has gotten into a bit of trouble. The poor thing is a simple soul, we should do something for him. Can’t you arrange a bike for him?” A little while later, I saw a message from Mrs. Zohra in my inbox: “Please give me your contact number. Regards” I gave it immediately. The call came within seconds. After introducing herself, she said, “You need a bike Monday at 4 PM, right?” “That would be wonderful.” “OK, a bike will be there for you at 4. My colleague Romel will pick you. Alright?” “I am truly, truly grateful. Thank you so very much!” “Let’s get the work done first, then you can thank me. I’m texting you Romel’s number. Take care.” She hung up immediately. I wrote to her: “Life is stranger than fiction, I repeat. From myself, I’ve got much less than I truly deserve. From others, I’ve got much more than I truly deserve. Is it the thing that they call miracle? I don’t know and never try to know. I let miracles happen and thankfully they always happen . . . . . . . Thank you for your generous approach. This really means a lot to me.” I wrote my piece. I don’t know if she ever read it or had the time to read it. Noble souls don’t wait for thanks. Besides, she was truly, truly busy.

He was the head of the credit section at One Bank. He had no reason to know a nobody like me, yet he knew me through my writing. Otherwise, I would never have had the privilege of speaking with him directly. And the fact that Sharmin didi had spoken to him about me—that was a big deal too. The next day was the Bangladesh Affairs Paper 2 exam. I went to sleep without studying any of it. The day after, straight from the exam hall, I went to the Westex showroom at Probortak intersection. My life’s first interview. I was incredibly excited! I had decided I’d go to the interview board wearing everything brand new. I bought a formal white shirt, black pants, black tie, black belt, black socks, white undershirt, and brown shoes. Later, from Gallery Apex I bought formal Oxford shoes, and from Time Zone a Titan wristwatch, then returned home in the evening. Seeing my antics, Ma was laughing. “Ma, why are you laughing?” “Just because, dear.” The funny thing was, Ma went with me to the exam hall every single day. She always kept me close, just like a child. Ma said, “Tomorrow I’m going to the airport with you.” And she did go—despite my protests.

Monday, the 17th. International Affairs exam. I couldn’t stay in the exam hall for the entire time due to nerves. I don’t have a car, what if the CNG takes too long to reach the airport! What if I miss the flight! The flight was at 3:20. And it takes at least 2 hours to reach the airport from Omar Gani MES College by 1 PM. Our written exam had been during winter. In the bitter cold, my fingers would freeze. Still, I kept rubbing my palms together to warm them, blowing hot breath into the hollow of my cupped hands, and wrote with all my strength. Instead of 1 o’clock, I finished the exam at 12:30, submitted my paper, and rushed out. When I emerged from the hall and reached the gate, everyone thought I must have been expelled! The intense stress was clearly written all over my face. Many showed me sympathy, told me not to worry, advised me to do better in the next BCS. I didn’t have time to respond. What could I say anyway—at that moment, life itself was one giant question mark for me! I don’t know what strength possessed my mother. She ran almost twice as fast as me, covering the distance from the college campus to the road. We got into a CNG without bargaining, paying nearly one and a half times the normal fare. I told the driver, “However you manage it, get us to the airport within two hours. If necessary, I’ll pay you extra.” It was 12:50 on the clock. The CNG started speeding. Mother opened the tiffin box and fed me khichuri, meat, and fried egg. One thought kept spinning in my head: “Will I catch the plane? If we get stuck in traffic, it’s all over!” I took off my sweater. I had left home that morning wearing my viva outfit, everything except the tie. After escaping two minor traffic jams, when we reached the airport, it was 5 minutes to 3. As soon as I got down, I touched my mother’s and aunt’s feet in respect (a distant aunt had come with us since mother couldn’t return home from the airport alone) and ran to the counter. There I learned that the flight was delayed by an hour due to dense fog. I thought, if the plane leaves at that time, there’s no way I can reach IBA by 5:15. I informed the counter staff about this. They said there was nothing they could do; they were very sorry. I inquired and learned that no other flights were departing at that time either. At that moment, I felt utterly helpless, just wanting to cry. I felt like I had no one, no one at all! I kept going from counter to counter. I found out there was a Bangladesh Biman flight departing at 3:45. There was no other flight before that. It was a bigger plane, taking 30 minutes to reach, whereas other planes take at least 40 minutes. Meaning, I would reach Dhaka airport by 4:15! I bought the ticket right then. There was great hope in my heart—if this one leaves on time, there’s nothing more to worry about. I went to the airport restroom and quickly put on my tie. I adjusted my shirt once more. Looking in the mirror, I fixed my hair with my hand. The clock hand crossed 4 after passing 3:45. The plane was delayed due to fog. We all boarded the plane at 4:15. It was my first time on a plane. I kept thinking, when will it take off, when will it take off! Every second felt like an hour! The tension was making it hard to breathe, yet the plane wouldn’t take off. I thought, oh! If only I could spend all my strength to make this plane soar into the sky! I pressed my handkerchief over my eyes to hide my tears. Finally, the plane took off. It was 4:37 on the clock. I was thinking, oh!

The plane could have taken off directly without taxiing! At least a couple of minutes would have been saved! The plane landed on Dhaka’s runway at 5:13.

I burst out of the domestic terminal running with all my might, and gasping for breath, I saw a motorcycle come to a stop right in front of me. “You’re Sushanta, right? Get on the back!” I extended my hand to shake hands with the young man in the black helmet. He didn’t raise his black-gloved right fist for a handshake. “Time’s wasting, brother! Please get on! Quick!” I didn’t argue further. “You’re not used to riding bikes, are you?” “Yes. How did you know?” “Brother, I’ve been riding bikes for the past 18-20 years. I can tell.” “I see.” “Lean forward and press your chest firmly against my back! You can even wrap your arms around me, otherwise you’ll get thrown off. For sure! I’m going to ride fast.” The way that bike tore out of the airport—I don’t have the courage to even think about it today. Under normal circumstances, I might have screamed in fear and told him to stop, or I really would have been thrown off. But at that moment I knew that being afraid was important, but far more important was reaching IBA alive. I don’t know if the wheels of that 150cc bike actually touched the ground that day, but for the second time in my life I understood this truth: you cannot frighten someone who stakes their life to touch their dreams. I had only seen bikes racing so recklessly on the roads in movies. The bike was literally cutting through the whooshing sound of wind, as if flying through the air! “Say brother, are you somebody really important?” “What do you mean?” “Well, Madam told me that one of her very important friends had to be delivered from the airport to IBA within half an hour, no matter what. That was her order! Who are you, brother? Hahahaha………” “I’m Madam’s Facebook friend.” “What are you saying, man? How’s that possible! I was thinking even more… you mean you’ve never even met her?” “No, brother. Why?” (There’s a railway crossing ahead. The barrier is coming down.) “Brother, duck your head a little.” Saying this, he quickly rode the bike under the barrier without obeying the signal. Many people behind us were shouting for us to stop. “Brother, just don’t be afraid. Nothing will happen. You can close your eyes if you want.” Right at that moment, while quickly emerging from between two trucks standing side by side, he said, “Sit a bit smaller, brother!” A little further ahead—massive traffic jam at a signal! Romel bhai lifted the bike onto the sidewalk. “Brother, please give way a little, give way a little,” he kept saying as he raced forward. He had to do this several times. Sometimes when riding on the central divider in the middle of the road, traffic police would catch us, and he’d say in a tearful voice, “Sir, my aunt is fighting for her life in the medical college. I’m going to donate blood. O-negative blood—we can’t find any. If I don’t reach on time, we won’t be able to save my aunt, sir!” He’d manage the police with this story and then race off at the same speed again! Whenever there was a traffic jam on the road, he’d immediately change to another road. That day I learned that when obstacles appear on the road, it doesn’t mean there is no road. Rather, it means you have to take a different road! Right now!! I had only seen such daredevil biking in Hollywood action movies. Looking at my hair in the bike’s mirror, it seemed as if it had stood up straight after an electric shock! My face was covered with dust from the city. In the fierce wind, my tie was flying behind me in the air. I don’t know if anyone has ever seen a bike race so recklessly through Dhaka’s roads during rush hour. But for some reason, I truly wasn’t afraid at all. I kept thinking over and over, “How quickly can one reach IBA!” Romel bhai had finished his honors and master’s from Dhaka College before joining the bank. I had asked him, “What’s your designation at the bank?” He had joked, “Not much, just 14 more promotions and I’ll be able to sit in Zohra Madam’s chair. Hahaha…….”

When I arrived in front of IBA, my watch showed 5:52. As I got down, I saw my younger brother Pappu and his friend Arefin standing there. At that time, I had my gift shop ‘Dobhana.’ Pappu and Arefin were my working partners. They often came to Dhaka from Chawk Bazaar in Old Dhaka to buy wholesale goods for the shop. I had withdrawn myself from the shop to focus on my BCS exam preparation. They ran everything. They were already in Dhaka on shop business. I had told them to go to the IBA MBA program office and keep me updated by phone about the viva board situation. Through repeated conversations with them, I was checking whether the interview board was still there, asking them to go to the program office and explain that I couldn’t arrive on time due to flight delays, terrible traffic jams, and so on. As soon as I got down, they informed me, “Bhaiya, the board left 4-5 minutes ago. Now only the Executive MBA viva remains.” After introducing them to Romel bhai, I rushed up to the MBA program office on the second floor. As soon as they saw me, everyone there stopped their work and looked at me. I saw Rahi Sir busy with something; he didn’t respond to my greeting. “Sir, I’m very late. Despite trying hard, I couldn’t arrive on time. I…” Without giving me a chance to say anything more, he shouted, “You Idiot! Get out!” “Sir, I…” “I said, Get out! Out! Out!! I knew very well that you wouldn’t be able to come on time. Is it possible to take one exam in Chittagong and then come to Dhaka for another exam? That easy? You’ve just wasted my time! I had told everyone that a boy from Chittagong would come at 5:15, and we needed to take his viva. Did you think I am a joker?” “Sir, I came here with great difficulty. The flight was delayed, there was heavy traffic on the road. I really…” “It’s none of my business! Get out! Go back where you came from.” “Sir, I had many dreams of studying at IBA.” “Everyone on the street has such dreams. I gave you a chance but you missed it. That’s all! Get out of here.” “Sir, please have some mercy…” (I felt like falling at his feet and crying…) Right beside him sat a gentle-looking gentleman much younger than the sir. He said, “Sir, I’ve heard about him. His younger brother kept coming to our program office. They had been standing in front of the office for hours. His flight was indeed delayed. And there’s heavy traffic in Dhaka today too. A friend of mine came to my room from the airport a while ago; it took him a long time to get here too. Give him a chance, Sir. He’s come so far, taking such risks with great difficulty! He apparently has another written exam tomorrow too. The poor fellow has to return to Chittagong today itself.” “Son, you junior faculty members don’t even know what you’re saying, what kind of requests you make. Why are you pleading for him? Is he your relative or something?” “No no Sir, I’m seeing him for the first time today. Just look at his face once, Sir. He’s really come here with great difficulty. Please do him a favor, Sir.” “You have no idea what you are talking about! Will the Executive MBA viva be the same as theirs? They have 3 years of job experience, while these are just children in comparison!

“This won’t be possible, brother. I am sorry!” “Sir, please help the poor fellow a bit. He’s come such a long way with so much hope!” “Son, we can’t manage anything more for you!” I stood a little distance away, head bowed. Looking at me, he called out loudly, “Hey, stupid! Why are you standing there like a donkey? Go on, go to the third floor! Go and stand there absolutely quietly. We’ll call you.” I truly couldn’t understand whether such a beautiful moment had ever come anywhere in this world before! Tears began streaming down my face. I prayed again and again from my heart for Babu sir. Rahi sir seemed like a father figure to me. I kept remembering mother’s words: “Never get angry at teachers’ scolding. When teachers scold, it means blessings.” Overwhelmed with emotion, as I was about to leave after thanking and saluting the teachers, Rahi sir called from behind, “Hey crazy boy! Comb your hair before entering the board! Wash your face at the basin! Don’t be so scared! Hahaha…” I couldn’t say anything more. I kept staring blankly at sir’s face. My cheeks were wet with tears from both eyes. Babu sir placed his hand on my shoulder and said, “Go on, go upstairs and wait. We are not that much bad people as you thought us to be. Sometimes even the IBA faculties are too good! Freshen up, give your interview properly, now there’s no tension anymore. What’s your exam tomorrow?” “Sir, Mathematical Reasoning and Mental Ability.” “How will you go?” “Sir, I have a return plane ticket.” “Good! Brother, splash some water on your eyes and face to fix your appearance. Give your viva quickly and rush to the airport! Good luck!” At that moment I felt like touching sir’s feet in salute. People get frightened by sudden intense love. For the first time, it suddenly struck me: “What if I can’t honor this love of my teachers? What if I don’t get a chance at IBA in the end?”

When we find ourselves in trouble, if our intentions are pure, a way out always emerges! I went to the washroom on the third floor and tried my best to “make myself presentable” by wetting my hair and smoothing it down. After splashing water on my face, I went and waited in front of the notice board. I was called after 10 minutes. It was nearly seven o’clock. When I entered the room, I saw many faculty members seated there. I hadn’t known that so many would be present for an interview. I thought this was perhaps how IBA interviews were conducted. I later learned that this entire panel had been assembled just for me. Apart from Babu Sir and Rahi Sir, I didn’t recognize anyone else. After getting admitted, I realized that those present that evening were IBA’s most senior and accomplished faculty members. The board included Saiful Majid Sir, Shama-e-Zahir Sir, Mamun Sir, Munir Khosru Sir, Niaz Sir, and Saif Noman Khan Sir. Most of the junior faculty had finished their interviews and gone home, while some senior faculty were in their offices conducting Executive MBA interviews. Some of them had been specially called in. I was in the interview for about 18-20 minutes. Many of the faculty members knew about my situation that day. I had heard of something called “divine possession” in life. At certain special moments, due to particular external influences or circumstances, people suddenly gain extraordinary power. In those moments, they step outside their normal state and display different behavior. They can harness the utmost potential of their inner infinite strength. In that wondrous balanced fusion of emotion and capability, the best version of themselves emerges. From the moment I entered the interview room, I had very likely become a different person, or perhaps the very best ‘me’ from within had emerged that day. By what divine signal this happened, I don’t know. No hesitation, doubt, nervousness, fear, the day’s exhaustion, or lethargy was affecting me at all. I felt incredibly composed and light as a feather. It felt as though whatever I was saying or doing was the best possible. I was experiencing the finest moment of my life right then and there. I can say with complete honesty that the style in which I spoke English that day—I have never in my entire life, even to this day, been able to speak English so flawlessly and fluently. That day the faculty members engaged in various kinds of humor during the interview. They were having great fun with me. Most likely, the faculty wanted to “shake me up” somehow. I don’t know why, by whose indication I don’t know, but I kept answering all their questions one by one with a very cool head and a smile that day. They interviewed me in English on various diverse topics, starting from describing the entire day’s events and the preceding Facebook incidents to many other subjects. (Of course, at IBA there’s absolutely no opportunity to give interviews in Bengali.) Why I wanted to pursue an MBA, why IBA if I was going to take government job exams anyway, my weaknesses, whether I’d ever been in love, how I spend my leisure time, some conversation about reading books, various economic issues of Bangladesh, some personal and family matters, my future plans, the breathless motorcycle journey from A to Z, the BCS examination system, why I went into engineering despite having no interest, why I delayed my honors degree, why I didn’t study properly, why my CGPA was so low, what I like to eat, what kind of personality I prefer in people, what I know about IBA, some current affairs, and several other questions. I was answering very quickly in correct English. The faculty praised this too. I gave a very simple, straightforward, and candid interview. I didn’t speak a single false word that day.

I didn’t need to think before speaking—whatever came to mind, I simply said, so there was no chance to fabricate lies. At the end, they asked me to sing a song. When I said, “I can’t, Sir,” Babu Sir showed me my info-form and laughed, saying, “But you’ve claimed so.” I had written Reading, Writing, Singing in the hobbies section… At that moment, it felt like I was living the best day of my life. I sang, “Aaj ei dintake…” “I see, we’re getting a singer for our cultural program!” As Saiful Majid Sir was saying this, Babu Sir interjected, “Sir, he has another exam tomorrow. He’ll probably be flying back to Chittagong tonight.” Then three or four teachers exclaimed in unison, “What! He’s going back to Chittagong right now? Well then, run along, run along! Go downstairs and see if your superman biker is there! Hahahaha…” As I was leaving with my salaam, the teachers called out, “Best of luck for your tomorrow’s exam.” I kept thinking, again and again—I’ll make it, I’ll make it! (Even after giving the BCS viva, I didn’t feel this good.)

When I stepped out of IBA, it was half past seven on the clock. I knew there was no way I could catch the 7:45 flight. I also knew that I had no idea how I would get to Chittagong that night. I didn’t even feel like thinking about it. Only the exhilarating rush of having given a good exam was coursing through me. Pappu and Arefin had been waiting for me at Madhu’s canteen. Taking them along, I went to the front of Dhaka University’s Central Library and leisurely began eating vegetable pakoras and tea. Many of my students studied in various departments at Dhaka University. Quite a few came to see me. They were asking what questions had been asked in the interview. After a day of incredible experiences, my head had become almost entirely empty. I couldn’t understand why I wasn’t feeling the slightest urgency to return to Chittagong. Pappu asked, “Brother, will you take the night bus?” I said, “Yes, that could work.” (It amuses me now to think how casually I had said ‘that could work’!) The road conditions weren’t good then either, there were always traffic jams. It didn’t even occur to me—what would happen if I couldn’t reach by 10 AM tomorrow? Ripon, a dear younger brother who lived in Chittagong and was one of my former students, said, “Brother, I have a non-AC train ticket; for Turna Nishitha, leaving tonight. It doesn’t matter if I don’t go to Chittagong today. Brother, you take it.” “Alright, fine,” I said, took the ticket, and set off toward Kamalapur Station. That night the train left nearly an hour and a half late. I didn’t even want to think about what was going to happen! I had already surrendered myself to fate long before. In my mind I kept repeating only this: whatever will be, will be. Whether I want it or not, it will happen. And whatever is happening is surely for the good; whatever will happen will surely be for the good too. Let’s see! After the day’s exhaustion, I had a very peaceful sleep. Suddenly I woke up hearing commotion around me. The train had stopped at Comilla. Apparently there was some problem with the line. We were delayed there for nearly two and a quarter hours. I couldn’t understand why I wasn’t feeling any kind of anxiety! I fell asleep again. Sleep is the world’s only faithful lover. Whenever I want it, I find it near. Never, under any circumstances, does it abandon me. There can be no purer love than the love for sleep.

When the train reached Chittagong railway station the next day, it was a quarter to ten in the morning. My exam was scheduled to start at ten. It takes only fifteen minutes to get from the station to my house. When I got home, I found my mother sitting there with everything ready in her hands—my pencil box, board, scale, pen, calculator, admit card, registration card, all of it. My parents had been terribly anxious at home. I hadn’t been able to speak to them since after half past one at night. My mobile had run out of charge. (I was using a cheap Nokia 1100 mobile set back then. Everyone called it the “national set”! It was so sturdy that many would joke, “Dude, you could crack jackfruit with that phone!” I’d tease my friends who used expensive mobiles, saying, “My phone’s model is ‘N Eleven Zero Zero’!”) As soon as my mother saw me, she said, “Dear, how are you? Will you take today’s exam?” I felt emotionally numb. It seemed as though I was lighter than a feather at that moment, floating around in some kind of trance! I smiled and said, “Ma, I’m perfectly fine. I’ll take the exam.” Saying this, I took the packed shopping bag from my mother’s hands and left the house just as I was. It was 10:05 on the clock. From our house to the exam center, it takes at least thirty minutes by CNG during office hours. When I reached the college gate, it was 10:43. That day was the mathematical reasoning and mental ability test. The first two hours were mathematical reasoning, followed by one hour of mental ability. The exam had already started forty-three minutes earlier. Naturally, the police wouldn’t let me enter. I pleaded extensively, kept trying futilely to explain what had happened, but they weren’t willing to listen to anything. But I had made up my mind—I wasn’t going to turn back, I would get inside no matter what. A small commotion started gathering there. Seeing the crowd, the magistrate came over. After hearing my entire story, he said, “You only have one hour left. Can you finish all the math problems in this time?” Without a moment’s hesitation, I said, “I can, sir!” “Alright, go ahead. Good luck!” My heart overflowed with gratitude toward him. At that moment, he seemed to me not human, but divine! I went in, looked at the questions, took the exam. I even showed three problems to the person sitting next to me. (He got a job in Audit and Accounts in the 30th batch.) I scored 98 on that day’s exam—50 in math, 48 in mental ability. After that… well, as everyone says—the rest is history!

But this much is true: had that day’s exam been something other than mathematics, I would have been in real trouble. I can handle math because the type of problems that appeared in the BCS written exam back then weren’t particularly difficult for me to solve. Such problems don’t strain the mind much, and the 30th BCS written exam featured relatively easy math. Even if I worked through each step carefully and added side notes, it shouldn’t have taken more than half an hour. It didn’t for me either. However, spending two and a half hours on the International Affairs exam the day before had been risky. Actually, no matter how incredible the whole affair might seem, everything appears to have been predetermined by the Creator or nature itself. What remains inexplicable to our limited understanding is simply a natural, ordinary occurrence for the Creator. All our failures and successes are already decided beforehand. But to reach that point, the effort—or making the right decision at the right time—that we must do ourselves. I wasn’t even supposed to pass my undergraduate degree. Yet it was my destiny to complete my undergraduate studies, become a BCS cadre, study at IBA—all of it was written in my fate. Had my destiny been bound elsewhere, I would have gone there instead. I had enrolled in another master’s program under Dhaka University—MDS. After continuing that course for three months, I left it of my own accord. They had said I would need to officially hide the fact that I was simultaneously pursuing another master’s at IBA. I refused to lie. I harbor no regret about this, though. I’ve accepted that pursuing that particular master’s degree simply wasn’t written in my destiny. This is the truth, this is reality. I had gained admission to Dhaka University’s Evening MBA program in Finance, ranking sixth on the merit list, but never had to attend classes there. I received my IBA admission test results before that. I did complete my master’s in Finance from Dhaka University, but the Evening MBA program wasn’t destined for me, so I didn’t pursue my master’s degree from there.

Stepping into two boats in the middle of a river ensures certain death. Logic dictates this. But I placed my feet in two boats, taking the maximum risk—I had no other choice—yet both boats moved forward in parallel at the same speed at the same time, so I didn’t slip between them and lose my life. What explanation could there be for this? Life doesn’t follow logic; life follows the Creator’s signals. Life doesn’t always operate according to explanations. Sometimes life moves on faith. So there’s nothing to say about anyone’s personal philosophy and the life they live according to their beliefs, as long as that life doesn’t interfere with someone else’s way of living. Somewhere, no explicable form of life can be seen, and life is just like this!

Through sheer mental strength alone, I had believed that some miracle would surely occur. It did happen, because in Providence’s master plan, that’s what was meant to happen. Everything in between was the Creator’s games or plans to test my patience and concentration. You will never be given a gift you don’t deserve. You will be tested, and if you fail to pass that test, you will deprive yourself of the Creator’s grace through your own fault. I’m sharing with you the Facebook status I posted after the IBA admission test results came out, along with a couple of my own comments on it:

Friends, I’ve been finally selected for admission into the MBA Program of IBA, Dhaka University. …… feeling happy. ……. HATS OFF to Sharmeen didi, Ira madam & Romel bhai!!

# My dear friends….. Your gorgeous presence on my wall makes me think twice about the POWER of friendship & the MAGIC of love. YES……… They matter!! I just want to be with you forever. Please never say GOODBYE…. It hurts!! Your kindness and care mean a lot to me. You’ve always given me much more than I really deserve. Please accept my sincere GRATITUDE.

Happy Social Networking!!

Long live Facebook!!

My best wishes for our Friendship!!

……… Love you all ……

# (To one of my close friends) Dost, not reaching the Interview Session on 17 January at 5:30 pm was what I thought to be….. reaching there in time was what was written in my DESTINY….. And, I ended up calling it a MIRACLE, something I never believed in before…… Just have a look at the schedule of 17 January……

International Affairs Exam (BCS written exam)…. 10:00 am — 1:00 pm

The departure time of the GMG Airlines: 3:20 pm, there was a delay of about 1 hour due to fog and I availed another delayed flight of Bangladesh Biman at 4:37 pm.

The plane landed on Dhaka Airport at 5:13 pm and then I started my fight against time to meet the deadline by bike with Romel bhai!! Who managed those three saviours (Sharmeen didi, Ira madam & Romel bhai) for me? I don’t know. You better ask the Heaven! I saw such a breath-taking motor-bike driving only in English movies. Before that day, I had never thought I would experience it!!

Life is sometimes stranger than fiction . . . . Who can tell it better than I?

# (To one of my senior high-profile Indian friends) Thank you Sir for your words of felicitation. IBA of Dhaka University is considered as the most prestigious institute for doing MBA in Bangladesh. As per the rules of that Business School, the Major/Field of Specialization is allowed to be chosen at the final semester judging the academic records & intention of a candidate. I don’t have much idea about what to choose and why to choose. Please share some ideas on it as you’ve huge practical knowledge (so far as I know) about the present corporate trend.

You’ve nicely stated the trend of our careerist B-school graduates. No one really cares about their own aptitude, rather, tries to be what market wants them to be. Personally, I always like the decision-making and mainstream operational sections of giant companies. And, probably I’ll go for finance as my major when I’ve to choose it in my final semester. Yes, my semester results must be well enough to work on my advantage. That’ll be a story of one and a half years later. Till then, I’ll have to undergo the generalized curriculum as my B-school formulates. The recent economic recession worries our friends studying at the US universities. And, almost all of them suggest me not to plan of staying there. But at the same time, they suggest me completing my PhD in the US if I want to and grab that opportunity. Let’s wait and see. . . . . Are you in India now? Hope you’re quite OK along with your busy schedule. Please, sometimes give me your valuable suggestions when you’ve time and you’re here on Facebook. . . . . Thank you once again for your helpful advice. Take care.

In explaining the final part of the status shared above, I had written these words:

Let me share the Story behind the Story and elucidate the last part of my status. It would have been quite impossible for me to reach Dhaka University from Dhaka International Airport within just 50 minutes (!!) to attend the interview session of IBA in time on Jan 17, but for the cordial help of Sharmeen didi (Sharmeen Muiz) & Ira madam (Johora Bebe Ira). They’re the persons who made that miracle happen!! And, Romel bhai (Monirul Alam Romel) is the “Man with the Bike” who dared fight against time to meet the deadline!! ……. I feel honoured to express my heartfelt gratitude to these three saviours. …….. Miracles Happen When You Believe!!

I conclude this piece with a beautifully strange comment Sharmeen didi made on that status: “My prayers, good wishes, and prayers remain with you. Dear brother of mine, may you grow to great heights. And may the successful reflection of our efforts (Ira’s and mine) shine through in everything you do. I was there, I am here, I will be there. …….. Heaps of hugs and love.”

What sustains a human being? We live on love, on prayers, on good wishes. These are what keep me alive—quite well alive, in fact. My gratitude!

P.S. Let me offer you some practical wisdom. Those who think they know too much, who consider themselves supremely intelligent, who speak in grand terms without any real qualifications or notable position, who try to diminish others even through outright lies, who pontificate without knowledge, who speak to you in such a manner that you begin to doubt your own confidence—I would advise you to absolutely, absolutely, and absolutely avoid such people. They themselves cannot go very far in life, nor will they allow you to go very far either.

(Written 2-3 years ago)

I thought, why should I surrender before I’ve even lost? I’ll see this through to the end. At home, my parents were also saying, “Give up one of them.” My heart was telling me, “I won’t give up, not for anything!” Let me gamble with life this once and see what happens! You have to listen to your heart. I called the MBA Program Office. Zakir bhai was in charge there. He said, “IBA’s schedule doesn’t change for anyone. You change your schedule.” I said, “That’s not possible. You have several slots. BCS has only one.” Even after that he said, “It’s not possible in any way. We’re sorry!” Saying this, he hung up the phone, and my stubbornness only grew stronger. I put aside studying for the next day’s exam. After some inquiries, I learned that Rahi Sir was the Program Chairman for IBA’s MBA at the time. Only he could change my interview slot if he wanted to. Rahi Sir is an incredibly fierce person. IBA’s Marketing Department is the best in Bangladesh. Rahi Sir is the best faculty in that department. I got his number. The person I got the number from asked, “Are you really going to call Rahi Sir?” “Yes. Why?” “We students never dare to call Sir. And you’re going to call him for this?” “I will. I have to. My back is against the wall.” “God bless you, man! You better think twice.” I said, “Sometimes life doesn’t give you the opportunity to think twice. It’s the first and the only chance! I must grab it before it’s too late! I will call him. I’ll make my attempt—if it works, it works; if not, so be it. If I don’t try, it definitely won’t work. Thank you, bhai!” Right after finishing that conversation, without any second thoughts, I called Rahi Sir. A man with an extremely serious voice. It’s frightening just to speak with him. But I have nothing left to lose. I only know this: I passed IBA’s written exam and IBA has to conduct my interview. I had truly become reckless. I blurted out my entire problem in one breath. Rahi Sir said, “You silly kid! You’ve dared to call Rahi Sir for this! Did you think I am your friend? It’s not my business whether you can attend the viva board or not. You have only 2 choices: Leave IBA, or, Leave BCS.” To my infinite amazement, I heard myself saying, “Sir, I have called you to hear about the third choice. If you don’t have that, please make it for me. I know I’ll be at IBA.” Sir said very loudly over the phone, “You are a stupid little boy. You just know nothing about the things here! Don’t waste my time. I am busy!” “Sir, please give me a chance. I am………” I couldn’t make him hear any more—he hung up before that. I couldn’t understand what had happened, only felt an even stronger desire to believe that I would definitely study at IBA. BCS seemed to fade for a moment. Whatever happens in tomorrow’s exam will happen. Right now I need to sort out the IBA situation first. I called the program office again.

I asked, “When can I actually meet Rahi sir?” “What do you mean?” “Sir told me to come see him.” “Ask sir himself when you can actually meet him.” (I mustered the courage to lie….) “Sir said to call the program office and find out.” “He told you to ask us? Really! Alright, stay on the line, let me check sir’s class schedule.” Zakir bhai informed me that if I came next Friday evening, I could meet sir. Saying “thank you very much,” I hung up the phone and immediately left home to buy a bus ticket. From near Gariullah Shah’s shrine in Chittagong, I bought a ticket on Unique’s non-AC bus to Dhaka for Thursday night. The next day, under tremendous mental pressure, I took my Bangladesh Studies Paper 1 exam. Even in the exam hall, my mind kept racing: “Will Rahi sir keep his word?” In my answer sheet, I mistakenly wrote the word “Rahi” several times, though I crossed it out later.

I arrived at IBA before afternoon on Friday. I stood waiting in front of the MBA Program Office. Zakir bhai wasn’t there at the time—he came in the evening, two hours later. I went up and introduced myself. “Oh, I see, you’ve come from Chittagong. Rahi sir mentioned he would speak with you about changing your interview schedule? Really??” “Yes, he told me to come see him!” We were talking when Rahi sir arrived shortly after. He went straight through the program office into his room. A dignified man of serious disposition. His office was right next to the program office. Zakir bhai said, “Please sit on the sofa. Let me ask sir if he’s free right now.” When he told sir, “Someone named Sushanta Pal has come from Chittagong to see you—you had asked him to come,” sir immediately shouted quite loudly, “I didn’t ask anyone to come see me! Tell him to leave. Disgusting!” Zakir bhai told me, “Sir won’t see you. You should go.” “I’ll leave, but only after meeting with sir. Brother, I haven’t come here to turn back. I must see him.” Almost forcefully, I entered sir’s room without permission. After I said very politely, “Assalamu alaikum, sir,” he returned the greeting and said, “What do you want?” There were several other students in the room who had come to sir for various matters. “Sir, I called you the day before yesterday evening.” “Is it my duty to remember your call? Get out!” I said nothing and stood there with my head bowed. The words “Get out!” didn’t register in my mind. At that moment, I only knew that I would speak with Rahi sir about changing the schedule, and sir would surely agree to do so. After standing like this for nearly half an hour, sir said, “Why are you standing here like a statue?” I fearfully placed an application about changing the time slot on sir’s desk and began to say, “Sir, the day before yesterday I spoke with you on the phone…” “Speak in the language I am using now.” “Sir, my interview has been scheduled for next Monday at 10 in the morning. I am appearing for the 30th BCS written exam. I have an exam at the same time. So, I request you to shift my schedule to another convenient time slot.” “Sorry, we cannot.” “Please Sir! Otherwise, my dream to be here will be shattered.” “Let it be. Just go for BCS. You will do better being a civil servant.” “But Sir, it’s uncertain.” “Is being here certain for you?” “No Sir, that’s why I cannot leave any of these 2 opportunities. Please Sir, give me a chance. Do me a favour. I will be ever grateful, Sir.” “What time is your exam?” “10 o’clock, sir.” “How long?” “Three hours, sir.” “Okay fine, come straight here after your exam. Can you make it by 1:30?” I realized sir had forgotten that I’d come from Chittagong. “Sir, I’m taking the exam from Chittagong.” “Stupid! We cannot change our schedule for you! Are you Mr President?” “No Sir, I just want to be your student! I will do anything you tell me to do. Please give me a chance, Sir!” “Look, brother, you won’t be able to finish your exam at 1 o’clock and come from Chittagong to take the interview anyway.

You won’t make it even if you leave at 10 PM. The roads are in terrible condition, there’s heavy traffic.” “Sir, I can come in the evening.” “How? By plane?” “Yes, sir. Please give me a chance, sir.” “Alright. Don’t you have an exam the next day?” “I do, sir. I can manage. I’ll buy a return ticket.” “What time can you arrive?” “Whatever you say, sir.” “Your exam will end at 1 PM. Hmm… okay, can you make it to the 3 o’clock board?” “Yes sir, I can be there at 3.” “Do you know if there are flights at that time?” “I don’t know, sir. I’ll find out.” “I think there’s a flight around 3.” “What time can you arrive?” “4 o’clock, sir?” “Foolish boy! Your brain isn’t working. How can you take a 3 o’clock flight from Chittagong and get from the airport to IBA by 4? You have no idea about Dhaka city. Okay, you come by 5:15 sharp. You will be last person in that board. If you come after that, nothing can be done. The evening board is for Executive MBA. It won’t be possible to hold your viva there. Okay?” “Thank you, sir.” “Youngman, you have decided to play with your life! Best of luck!” “Please pray for me, sir. I can do this!” Tears came to my eyes. I realized that though this man appeared stern on the outside, he was very gentle within. I offered many prayers for the sir and left IBA. I went to Aziz and bought some books. Then I went to Fakirapul and took the 10 PM non-AC bus from Unique, reaching Chittagong in the morning.

I’m sharing the application with you:

15 January 2011

The Program Director, MBA Program

Institute of Business Administration

University of Dhaka

Dhaka

Subject: Prayer for changing the time slot of the interview schedule of the MBA Program Admission

Sir,

This letter expresses my earnest request to change my interview schedule of the MBA Program Admission 2010-2011. I am a candidate for Full-Time Course, my admit number is 2745 and I am on Interview Board 6 scheduled to be conducted at the 10:00 am to 1:00 pm time slot on January 17, 2011. I am appearing at the 30th BCS written examination and my Examination Centre is at Chittagong. I have an examination on January 17, 2011, coincided with the same time slot of the interview and so it is not possible for me to come from Chittagong and attend the interview at 10:00 am.

I will be highly obliged if you kindly permit me to attend the interview at the 6:00 pm to 8:30 pm time slot scheduled for Evening Board 3 and Evening Board 4 on January 17, 2011.

Yours faithfully

Sushanta Paul

I had never been on a plane before. I thought that wherever you go, you need a passport to fly. My elder brother called a friend who works with passport services and asked what documents are needed for an emergency passport to Dhaka. He burst out laughing! He said, “Buddy, what do you need a passport for? A plane and a bus are the same thing. One flies in the sky, the other runs on the road. That’s all there is to it! Just go buy a ticket. That’s it! Which one is good? You can go with GMG. That’s pretty good.” I didn’t know that you don’t have to rush to the airport to buy a plane ticket. I had no idea how much tickets cost. Getting off the bus in the morning, I went straight to a Dutch-Bangla Bank booth and withdrew ten thousand taka. Then I jumped into a CNG and rushed to the airport. I bought a ticket from the GMG Airlines counter for the 3:20 flight on Monday, the 17th. That was the first Chittagong-Dhaka flight of the afternoon. I booked a return ticket for the same day on the 7:45 evening flight. I felt like I could see it right before my eyes—me attending classes at IBA! Such a strange vision! I returned home with a victorious smile, almost as if I had already gotten into IBA! At night, I tried to prepare from various guides and the internet about what they might ask in the IBA interview. I studied for about 4-5 hours. At the same time, I posted a status on Facebook: How much time does it take to reach Dhaka University from Dhaka International Airport? Is it possible to reach in 40 minutes? Friends, any suggestion, please? I was truly a very simple person back then. I saw the world in very simple terms. Since I hadn’t visited Dhaka much, I didn’t know that in 2011 it wasn’t possible to get from the airport to Shahbag in 40 minutes. Everyone was saying it would take a minimum of two hours to get from the airport to the university campus in the afternoon. All sorts of bizarre comments came in reply to my status. Many started making fun of me. I’ll share some of my friends’ suggestions: “It’s possible if you run.” “It would be great if you jogged to the university. You’d get your evening exercise too!” “You shouldn’t have bought that plane ticket! With that money, if you had thrown us a party, we all would have prayed together and your BCS would have worked out! Hahahaha…..” “Young man! You’re young, just run as soon as you get off the plane! You’ll see, you’ll reach before time!” “Listen, such-and-such bus runs on such-and-such route. Hanging and sleeping, you’ll reach IBA just fine!” I got many such absurd comments. I knew absolutely nothing about Dhaka then. When you’re in trouble, doesn’t everyone have to give you a kick? It began to feel like that’s just how life is! People can’t extend a hand to pull you up, but they can certainly extend a foot to kick you down! Without getting the least bit discouraged by anyone’s words, I kept waiting to see if someone would give some good advice. I didn’t react to anyone’s reply that day. How helplessly calm a person becomes when in trouble. All I knew was this: “I’m giving my IBA interview on the 17th.” One person wrote, “You can go by bike. There’s no faster way to reach the university campus.” Some people even supported that idea. A few mentioned taxi cabs. Support was strongest for the bike option. Up until then, I had ridden a bike maybe 2-3 times in my entire life, counting generously. I didn’t really know anyone in Dhaka who had a bike, or if I did know someone, my mind wasn’t working at all then. Sometimes I think now, alas!

I couldn’t even afford to manage a bike at that time. I wrote, “My flight is scheduled to land at Dhaka Airport at 4.10 pm on 17 January. I must reach Dhaka University at or before 5.15 pm. I’ve an interview at IBA at that time. . . . Can’t I do it? Is it not possible? I need to do it at any cost. As I don’t know about the routes of Dhaka City, I’m asking for your help. Dhaka City is an unknown city to me. Can a taxi cab help me reach there in 1 hour? I can’t be late, otherwise I’ll miss the interview schedule. I’ve managed that schedule today through an application. . . Can a bike be a better solution? Or, something else? I’m in great trouble. . . .” After posting this, the mocking and laughter began all over again. I replied to the distinguished gentleman (one of Bangladesh’s most successful businessmen) who had advised me to jog there: “Thank you Sir for you ‘jogging’ suggestion. I was also seriously thinking of this option. Yes, I’ll surely manage to reach in time by vehicles, on foot, again by vehicles, again on foot . . . . And, I’ll go. I’ll be there in time by any means.” Someone said, “Change the schedule once more.” I wrote, “The schedule can’t be changed! Hopefully, there will happen some miracle and I’ll manage to avail the schedule in time.” A younger brother wrote, “Brother, you should go by taxi-cab. But you could try the bus once. Dhaka buses run quite well!” I replied, “Brother, I’m not surely making any attempt of getting on a bus! That’ll be horrible, you know. I was just seeking for a suggestion as I don’t know about the route. Thanks for the suggestion. I think a CNG powered taxi can help me in this regard. A taxi-cab is prone to getting stuck up in the congestion forever. A bike could be a better solution. But, I can’t manage it.”

Mrs. Zohra, whose name was Ira—an extremely distinguished lady—commented, “You need a bike?” “That would be wonderful.” “Alright, let me see what I can do.” She was the Deputy Managing Director of ONE Bank. After completing her studies in Chemistry from Chittagong University, she had done her MBA from IBA. She worked in the corporate sector, but there were very few people who didn’t know her. I have a sister. Her name is Sharmin Muiz Khan. At that time, she was one of those rare souls who loved someone as insignificant as me far more than necessary, showered me with affection for no particular reason. She was almost my mother’s age, but I addressed her as ‘tumi’ and she called me ‘tui’. She had studied English Literature at Dhaka University. She particularly loved my writing. She was a business magnate and had connections with many prominent people. I have rarely seen a lady as distinguished, refined, elegant, and utterly graceful as her. She commented, “Bappi, someone needs to grab you and give you a good thrashing. Are you enjoying confusing everyone by calling them all the time? Please stop wasting your time browsing Facebook and concentrate on tomorrow’s exam. Otherwise, you’re calling for another disaster. There is a saying: ‘Que sera, sera’ meaning: Whatever will be, will be. So, pray and try your best. I have given this opinion after a lot of serious thoughts. Please follow it. You will leave here right now. I don’t want to see you making even one more comment! MIRACLES HAPPEN IF YOU BELIEVE IN YOURSELF!” I replied, “Didi, things are that they’re. Things will be that they will be. And, between this two there lie some miracles that we’re never aware of. And, miracles are often stranger than facts. Facts are because they’re. Miracles are because we or someone else wants them to be. That’s the truth!” She called Mrs. Zohra. She said, “Look Ira, my brother has gotten into a bit of trouble. The poor thing is a simple soul, we should do something for him. Can’t you arrange a bike for him?” A little while later, I saw a message from Mrs. Zohra in my inbox: “Please give me your contact number. Regards” I gave it immediately. The call came within seconds. After introducing herself, she said, “You need a bike Monday at 4 PM, right?” “That would be wonderful.” “OK, a bike will be there for you at 4. My colleague Romel will pick you. Alright?” “I am truly, truly grateful. Thank you so very much!” “Let’s get the work done first, then you can thank me. I’m texting you Romel’s number. Take care.” She hung up immediately. I wrote to her: “Life is stranger than fiction, I repeat. From myself, I’ve got much less than I truly deserve. From others, I’ve got much more than I truly deserve. Is it the thing that they call miracle? I don’t know and never try to know. I let miracles happen and thankfully they always happen . . . . . . . Thank you for your generous approach. This really means a lot to me.” I wrote my piece. I don’t know if she ever read it or had the time to read it. Noble souls don’t wait for thanks. Besides, she was truly, truly busy.

He was the head of the credit section at One Bank. He had no reason to know a nobody like me, yet he knew me through my writing. Otherwise, I would never have had the privilege of speaking with him directly. And the fact that Sharmin didi had spoken to him about me—that was a big deal too. The next day was the Bangladesh Affairs Paper 2 exam. I went to sleep without studying any of it. The day after, straight from the exam hall, I went to the Westex showroom at Probortak intersection. My life’s first interview. I was incredibly excited! I had decided I’d go to the interview board wearing everything brand new. I bought a formal white shirt, black pants, black tie, black belt, black socks, white undershirt, and brown shoes. Later, from Gallery Apex I bought formal Oxford shoes, and from Time Zone a Titan wristwatch, then returned home in the evening. Seeing my antics, Ma was laughing. “Ma, why are you laughing?” “Just because, dear.” The funny thing was, Ma went with me to the exam hall every single day. She always kept me close, just like a child. Ma said, “Tomorrow I’m going to the airport with you.” And she did go—despite my protests.

Monday, the 17th. International Affairs exam. I couldn’t stay in the exam hall for the entire time due to nerves. I don’t have a car, what if the CNG takes too long to reach the airport! What if I miss the flight! The flight was at 3:20. And it takes at least 2 hours to reach the airport from Omar Gani MES College by 1 PM. Our written exam had been during winter. In the bitter cold, my fingers would freeze. Still, I kept rubbing my palms together to warm them, blowing hot breath into the hollow of my cupped hands, and wrote with all my strength. Instead of 1 o’clock, I finished the exam at 12:30, submitted my paper, and rushed out. When I emerged from the hall and reached the gate, everyone thought I must have been expelled! The intense stress was clearly written all over my face. Many showed me sympathy, told me not to worry, advised me to do better in the next BCS. I didn’t have time to respond. What could I say anyway—at that moment, life itself was one giant question mark for me! I don’t know what strength possessed my mother. She ran almost twice as fast as me, covering the distance from the college campus to the road. We got into a CNG without bargaining, paying nearly one and a half times the normal fare. I told the driver, “However you manage it, get us to the airport within two hours. If necessary, I’ll pay you extra.” It was 12:50 on the clock. The CNG started speeding. Mother opened the tiffin box and fed me khichuri, meat, and fried egg. One thought kept spinning in my head: “Will I catch the plane? If we get stuck in traffic, it’s all over!” I took off my sweater. I had left home that morning wearing my viva outfit, everything except the tie. After escaping two minor traffic jams, when we reached the airport, it was 5 minutes to 3. As soon as I got down, I touched my mother’s and aunt’s feet in respect (a distant aunt had come with us since mother couldn’t return home from the airport alone) and ran to the counter. There I learned that the flight was delayed by an hour due to dense fog. I thought, if the plane leaves at that time, there’s no way I can reach IBA by 5:15. I informed the counter staff about this. They said there was nothing they could do; they were very sorry. I inquired and learned that no other flights were departing at that time either. At that moment, I felt utterly helpless, just wanting to cry. I felt like I had no one, no one at all! I kept going from counter to counter. I found out there was a Bangladesh Biman flight departing at 3:45. There was no other flight before that. It was a bigger plane, taking 30 minutes to reach, whereas other planes take at least 40 minutes. Meaning, I would reach Dhaka airport by 4:15! I bought the ticket right then. There was great hope in my heart—if this one leaves on time, there’s nothing more to worry about. I went to the airport restroom and quickly put on my tie. I adjusted my shirt once more. Looking in the mirror, I fixed my hair with my hand. The clock hand crossed 4 after passing 3:45. The plane was delayed due to fog. We all boarded the plane at 4:15. It was my first time on a plane. I kept thinking, when will it take off, when will it take off! Every second felt like an hour! The tension was making it hard to breathe, yet the plane wouldn’t take off. I thought, oh! If only I could spend all my strength to make this plane soar into the sky! I pressed my handkerchief over my eyes to hide my tears. Finally, the plane took off. It was 4:37 on the clock. I was thinking, oh!

The plane could have taken off directly without taxiing! At least a couple of minutes would have been saved! The plane landed on Dhaka’s runway at 5:13.

I burst out of the domestic terminal running with all my might, and gasping for breath, I saw a motorcycle come to a stop right in front of me. “You’re Sushanta, right? Get on the back!” I extended my hand to shake hands with the young man in the black helmet. He didn’t raise his black-gloved right fist for a handshake. “Time’s wasting, brother! Please get on! Quick!” I didn’t argue further. “You’re not used to riding bikes, are you?” “Yes. How did you know?” “Brother, I’ve been riding bikes for the past 18-20 years. I can tell.” “I see.” “Lean forward and press your chest firmly against my back! You can even wrap your arms around me, otherwise you’ll get thrown off. For sure! I’m going to ride fast.” The way that bike tore out of the airport—I don’t have the courage to even think about it today. Under normal circumstances, I might have screamed in fear and told him to stop, or I really would have been thrown off. But at that moment I knew that being afraid was important, but far more important was reaching IBA alive. I don’t know if the wheels of that 150cc bike actually touched the ground that day, but for the second time in my life I understood this truth: you cannot frighten someone who stakes their life to touch their dreams. I had only seen bikes racing so recklessly on the roads in movies. The bike was literally cutting through the whooshing sound of wind, as if flying through the air! “Say brother, are you somebody really important?” “What do you mean?” “Well, Madam told me that one of her very important friends had to be delivered from the airport to IBA within half an hour, no matter what. That was her order! Who are you, brother? Hahahaha………” “I’m Madam’s Facebook friend.” “What are you saying, man? How’s that possible! I was thinking even more… you mean you’ve never even met her?” “No, brother. Why?” (There’s a railway crossing ahead. The barrier is coming down.) “Brother, duck your head a little.” Saying this, he quickly rode the bike under the barrier without obeying the signal. Many people behind us were shouting for us to stop. “Brother, just don’t be afraid. Nothing will happen. You can close your eyes if you want.” Right at that moment, while quickly emerging from between two trucks standing side by side, he said, “Sit a bit smaller, brother!” A little further ahead—massive traffic jam at a signal! Romel bhai lifted the bike onto the sidewalk. “Brother, please give way a little, give way a little,” he kept saying as he raced forward. He had to do this several times. Sometimes when riding on the central divider in the middle of the road, traffic police would catch us, and he’d say in a tearful voice, “Sir, my aunt is fighting for her life in the medical college. I’m going to donate blood. O-negative blood—we can’t find any. If I don’t reach on time, we won’t be able to save my aunt, sir!” He’d manage the police with this story and then race off at the same speed again! Whenever there was a traffic jam on the road, he’d immediately change to another road. That day I learned that when obstacles appear on the road, it doesn’t mean there is no road. Rather, it means you have to take a different road! Right now!! I had only seen such daredevil biking in Hollywood action movies. Looking at my hair in the bike’s mirror, it seemed as if it had stood up straight after an electric shock! My face was covered with dust from the city. In the fierce wind, my tie was flying behind me in the air. I don’t know if anyone has ever seen a bike race so recklessly through Dhaka’s roads during rush hour. But for some reason, I truly wasn’t afraid at all. I kept thinking over and over, “How quickly can one reach IBA!” Romel bhai had finished his honors and master’s from Dhaka College before joining the bank. I had asked him, “What’s your designation at the bank?” He had joked, “Not much, just 14 more promotions and I’ll be able to sit in Zohra Madam’s chair. Hahaha…….”

When I arrived in front of IBA, my watch showed 5:52. As I got down, I saw my younger brother Pappu and his friend Arefin standing there. At that time, I had my gift shop ‘Dobhana.’ Pappu and Arefin were my working partners. They often came to Dhaka from Chawk Bazaar in Old Dhaka to buy wholesale goods for the shop. I had withdrawn myself from the shop to focus on my BCS exam preparation. They ran everything. They were already in Dhaka on shop business. I had told them to go to the IBA MBA program office and keep me updated by phone about the viva board situation. Through repeated conversations with them, I was checking whether the interview board was still there, asking them to go to the program office and explain that I couldn’t arrive on time due to flight delays, terrible traffic jams, and so on. As soon as I got down, they informed me, “Bhaiya, the board left 4-5 minutes ago. Now only the Executive MBA viva remains.” After introducing them to Romel bhai, I rushed up to the MBA program office on the second floor. As soon as they saw me, everyone there stopped their work and looked at me. I saw Rahi Sir busy with something; he didn’t respond to my greeting. “Sir, I’m very late. Despite trying hard, I couldn’t arrive on time. I…” Without giving me a chance to say anything more, he shouted, “You Idiot! Get out!” “Sir, I…” “I said, Get out! Out! Out!! I knew very well that you wouldn’t be able to come on time. Is it possible to take one exam in Chittagong and then come to Dhaka for another exam? That easy? You’ve just wasted my time! I had told everyone that a boy from Chittagong would come at 5:15, and we needed to take his viva. Did you think I am a joker?” “Sir, I came here with great difficulty. The flight was delayed, there was heavy traffic on the road. I really…” “It’s none of my business! Get out! Go back where you came from.” “Sir, I had many dreams of studying at IBA.” “Everyone on the street has such dreams. I gave you a chance but you missed it. That’s all! Get out of here.” “Sir, please have some mercy…” (I felt like falling at his feet and crying…) Right beside him sat a gentle-looking gentleman much younger than the sir. He said, “Sir, I’ve heard about him. His younger brother kept coming to our program office. They had been standing in front of the office for hours. His flight was indeed delayed. And there’s heavy traffic in Dhaka today too. A friend of mine came to my room from the airport a while ago; it took him a long time to get here too. Give him a chance, Sir. He’s come so far, taking such risks with great difficulty! He apparently has another written exam tomorrow too. The poor fellow has to return to Chittagong today itself.” “Son, you junior faculty members don’t even know what you’re saying, what kind of requests you make. Why are you pleading for him? Is he your relative or something?” “No no Sir, I’m seeing him for the first time today. Just look at his face once, Sir. He’s really come here with great difficulty. Please do him a favor, Sir.” “You have no idea what you are talking about! Will the Executive MBA viva be the same as theirs? They have 3 years of job experience, while these are just children in comparison!

“This won’t be possible, brother. I am sorry!” “Sir, please help the poor fellow a bit. He’s come such a long way with so much hope!” “Son, we can’t manage anything more for you!” I stood a little distance away, head bowed. Looking at me, he called out loudly, “Hey, stupid! Why are you standing there like a donkey? Go on, go to the third floor! Go and stand there absolutely quietly. We’ll call you.” I truly couldn’t understand whether such a beautiful moment had ever come anywhere in this world before! Tears began streaming down my face. I prayed again and again from my heart for Babu sir. Rahi sir seemed like a father figure to me. I kept remembering mother’s words: “Never get angry at teachers’ scolding. When teachers scold, it means blessings.” Overwhelmed with emotion, as I was about to leave after thanking and saluting the teachers, Rahi sir called from behind, “Hey crazy boy! Comb your hair before entering the board! Wash your face at the basin! Don’t be so scared! Hahaha…” I couldn’t say anything more. I kept staring blankly at sir’s face. My cheeks were wet with tears from both eyes. Babu sir placed his hand on my shoulder and said, “Go on, go upstairs and wait. We are not that much bad people as you thought us to be. Sometimes even the IBA faculties are too good! Freshen up, give your interview properly, now there’s no tension anymore. What’s your exam tomorrow?” “Sir, Mathematical Reasoning and Mental Ability.” “How will you go?” “Sir, I have a return plane ticket.” “Good! Brother, splash some water on your eyes and face to fix your appearance. Give your viva quickly and rush to the airport! Good luck!” At that moment I felt like touching sir’s feet in salute. People get frightened by sudden intense love. For the first time, it suddenly struck me: “What if I can’t honor this love of my teachers? What if I don’t get a chance at IBA in the end?”

When we find ourselves in trouble, if our intentions are pure, a way out always emerges! I went to the washroom on the third floor and tried my best to “make myself presentable” by wetting my hair and smoothing it down. After splashing water on my face, I went and waited in front of the notice board. I was called after 10 minutes. It was nearly seven o’clock. When I entered the room, I saw many faculty members seated there. I hadn’t known that so many would be present for an interview. I thought this was perhaps how IBA interviews were conducted. I later learned that this entire panel had been assembled just for me. Apart from Babu Sir and Rahi Sir, I didn’t recognize anyone else. After getting admitted, I realized that those present that evening were IBA’s most senior and accomplished faculty members. The board included Saiful Majid Sir, Shama-e-Zahir Sir, Mamun Sir, Munir Khosru Sir, Niaz Sir, and Saif Noman Khan Sir. Most of the junior faculty had finished their interviews and gone home, while some senior faculty were in their offices conducting Executive MBA interviews. Some of them had been specially called in. I was in the interview for about 18-20 minutes. Many of the faculty members knew about my situation that day. I had heard of something called “divine possession” in life. At certain special moments, due to particular external influences or circumstances, people suddenly gain extraordinary power. In those moments, they step outside their normal state and display different behavior. They can harness the utmost potential of their inner infinite strength. In that wondrous balanced fusion of emotion and capability, the best version of themselves emerges. From the moment I entered the interview room, I had very likely become a different person, or perhaps the very best ‘me’ from within had emerged that day. By what divine signal this happened, I don’t know. No hesitation, doubt, nervousness, fear, the day’s exhaustion, or lethargy was affecting me at all. I felt incredibly composed and light as a feather. It felt as though whatever I was saying or doing was the best possible. I was experiencing the finest moment of my life right then and there. I can say with complete honesty that the style in which I spoke English that day—I have never in my entire life, even to this day, been able to speak English so flawlessly and fluently. That day the faculty members engaged in various kinds of humor during the interview. They were having great fun with me. Most likely, the faculty wanted to “shake me up” somehow. I don’t know why, by whose indication I don’t know, but I kept answering all their questions one by one with a very cool head and a smile that day. They interviewed me in English on various diverse topics, starting from describing the entire day’s events and the preceding Facebook incidents to many other subjects. (Of course, at IBA there’s absolutely no opportunity to give interviews in Bengali.) Why I wanted to pursue an MBA, why IBA if I was going to take government job exams anyway, my weaknesses, whether I’d ever been in love, how I spend my leisure time, some conversation about reading books, various economic issues of Bangladesh, some personal and family matters, my future plans, the breathless motorcycle journey from A to Z, the BCS examination system, why I went into engineering despite having no interest, why I delayed my honors degree, why I didn’t study properly, why my CGPA was so low, what I like to eat, what kind of personality I prefer in people, what I know about IBA, some current affairs, and several other questions. I was answering very quickly in correct English. The faculty praised this too. I gave a very simple, straightforward, and candid interview. I didn’t speak a single false word that day.

I didn’t need to think before speaking—whatever came to mind, I simply said, so there was no chance to fabricate lies. At the end, they asked me to sing a song. When I said, “I can’t, Sir,” Babu Sir showed me my info-form and laughed, saying, “But you’ve claimed so.” I had written Reading, Writing, Singing in the hobbies section… At that moment, it felt like I was living the best day of my life. I sang, “Aaj ei dintake…” “I see, we’re getting a singer for our cultural program!” As Saiful Majid Sir was saying this, Babu Sir interjected, “Sir, he has another exam tomorrow. He’ll probably be flying back to Chittagong tonight.” Then three or four teachers exclaimed in unison, “What! He’s going back to Chittagong right now? Well then, run along, run along! Go downstairs and see if your superman biker is there! Hahahaha…” As I was leaving with my salaam, the teachers called out, “Best of luck for your tomorrow’s exam.” I kept thinking, again and again—I’ll make it, I’ll make it! (Even after giving the BCS viva, I didn’t feel this good.)

When I stepped out of IBA, it was half past seven on the clock. I knew there was no way I could catch the 7:45 flight. I also knew that I had no idea how I would get to Chittagong that night. I didn’t even feel like thinking about it. Only the exhilarating rush of having given a good exam was coursing through me. Pappu and Arefin had been waiting for me at Madhu’s canteen. Taking them along, I went to the front of Dhaka University’s Central Library and leisurely began eating vegetable pakoras and tea. Many of my students studied in various departments at Dhaka University. Quite a few came to see me. They were asking what questions had been asked in the interview. After a day of incredible experiences, my head had become almost entirely empty. I couldn’t understand why I wasn’t feeling the slightest urgency to return to Chittagong. Pappu asked, “Brother, will you take the night bus?” I said, “Yes, that could work.” (It amuses me now to think how casually I had said ‘that could work’!) The road conditions weren’t good then either, there were always traffic jams. It didn’t even occur to me—what would happen if I couldn’t reach by 10 AM tomorrow? Ripon, a dear younger brother who lived in Chittagong and was one of my former students, said, “Brother, I have a non-AC train ticket; for Turna Nishitha, leaving tonight. It doesn’t matter if I don’t go to Chittagong today. Brother, you take it.” “Alright, fine,” I said, took the ticket, and set off toward Kamalapur Station. That night the train left nearly an hour and a half late. I didn’t even want to think about what was going to happen! I had already surrendered myself to fate long before. In my mind I kept repeating only this: whatever will be, will be. Whether I want it or not, it will happen. And whatever is happening is surely for the good; whatever will happen will surely be for the good too. Let’s see! After the day’s exhaustion, I had a very peaceful sleep. Suddenly I woke up hearing commotion around me. The train had stopped at Comilla. Apparently there was some problem with the line. We were delayed there for nearly two and a quarter hours. I couldn’t understand why I wasn’t feeling any kind of anxiety! I fell asleep again. Sleep is the world’s only faithful lover. Whenever I want it, I find it near. Never, under any circumstances, does it abandon me. There can be no purer love than the love for sleep.

When the train reached Chittagong railway station the next day, it was a quarter to ten in the morning. My exam was scheduled to start at ten. It takes only fifteen minutes to get from the station to my house. When I got home, I found my mother sitting there with everything ready in her hands—my pencil box, board, scale, pen, calculator, admit card, registration card, all of it. My parents had been terribly anxious at home. I hadn’t been able to speak to them since after half past one at night. My mobile had run out of charge. (I was using a cheap Nokia 1100 mobile set back then. Everyone called it the “national set”! It was so sturdy that many would joke, “Dude, you could crack jackfruit with that phone!” I’d tease my friends who used expensive mobiles, saying, “My phone’s model is ‘N Eleven Zero Zero’!”) As soon as my mother saw me, she said, “Dear, how are you? Will you take today’s exam?” I felt emotionally numb. It seemed as though I was lighter than a feather at that moment, floating around in some kind of trance! I smiled and said, “Ma, I’m perfectly fine. I’ll take the exam.” Saying this, I took the packed shopping bag from my mother’s hands and left the house just as I was. It was 10:05 on the clock. From our house to the exam center, it takes at least thirty minutes by CNG during office hours. When I reached the college gate, it was 10:43. That day was the mathematical reasoning and mental ability test. The first two hours were mathematical reasoning, followed by one hour of mental ability. The exam had already started forty-three minutes earlier. Naturally, the police wouldn’t let me enter. I pleaded extensively, kept trying futilely to explain what had happened, but they weren’t willing to listen to anything. But I had made up my mind—I wasn’t going to turn back, I would get inside no matter what. A small commotion started gathering there. Seeing the crowd, the magistrate came over. After hearing my entire story, he said, “You only have one hour left. Can you finish all the math problems in this time?” Without a moment’s hesitation, I said, “I can, sir!” “Alright, go ahead. Good luck!” My heart overflowed with gratitude toward him. At that moment, he seemed to me not human, but divine! I went in, looked at the questions, took the exam. I even showed three problems to the person sitting next to me. (He got a job in Audit and Accounts in the 30th batch.) I scored 98 on that day’s exam—50 in math, 48 in mental ability. After that… well, as everyone says—the rest is history!

But this much is true: had that day’s exam been something other than mathematics, I would have been in real trouble. I can handle math because the type of problems that appeared in the BCS written exam back then weren’t particularly difficult for me to solve. Such problems don’t strain the mind much, and the 30th BCS written exam featured relatively easy math. Even if I worked through each step carefully and added side notes, it shouldn’t have taken more than half an hour. It didn’t for me either. However, spending two and a half hours on the International Affairs exam the day before had been risky. Actually, no matter how incredible the whole affair might seem, everything appears to have been predetermined by the Creator or nature itself. What remains inexplicable to our limited understanding is simply a natural, ordinary occurrence for the Creator. All our failures and successes are already decided beforehand. But to reach that point, the effort—or making the right decision at the right time—that we must do ourselves. I wasn’t even supposed to pass my undergraduate degree. Yet it was my destiny to complete my undergraduate studies, become a BCS cadre, study at IBA—all of it was written in my fate. Had my destiny been bound elsewhere, I would have gone there instead. I had enrolled in another master’s program under Dhaka University—MDS. After continuing that course for three months, I left it of my own accord. They had said I would need to officially hide the fact that I was simultaneously pursuing another master’s at IBA. I refused to lie. I harbor no regret about this, though. I’ve accepted that pursuing that particular master’s degree simply wasn’t written in my destiny. This is the truth, this is reality. I had gained admission to Dhaka University’s Evening MBA program in Finance, ranking sixth on the merit list, but never had to attend classes there. I received my IBA admission test results before that. I did complete my master’s in Finance from Dhaka University, but the Evening MBA program wasn’t destined for me, so I didn’t pursue my master’s degree from there.

Stepping into two boats in the middle of a river ensures certain death. Logic dictates this. But I placed my feet in two boats, taking the maximum risk—I had no other choice—yet both boats moved forward in parallel at the same speed at the same time, so I didn’t slip between them and lose my life. What explanation could there be for this? Life doesn’t follow logic; life follows the Creator’s signals. Life doesn’t always operate according to explanations. Sometimes life moves on faith. So there’s nothing to say about anyone’s personal philosophy and the life they live according to their beliefs, as long as that life doesn’t interfere with someone else’s way of living. Somewhere, no explicable form of life can be seen, and life is just like this!

Through sheer mental strength alone, I had believed that some miracle would surely occur. It did happen, because in Providence’s master plan, that’s what was meant to happen. Everything in between was the Creator’s games or plans to test my patience and concentration. You will never be given a gift you don’t deserve. You will be tested, and if you fail to pass that test, you will deprive yourself of the Creator’s grace through your own fault. I’m sharing with you the Facebook status I posted after the IBA admission test results came out, along with a couple of my own comments on it:

Friends, I’ve been finally selected for admission into the MBA Program of IBA, Dhaka University. …… feeling happy. ……. HATS OFF to Sharmeen didi, Ira madam & Romel bhai!!

# My dear friends….. Your gorgeous presence on my wall makes me think twice about the POWER of friendship & the MAGIC of love. YES……… They matter!! I just want to be with you forever. Please never say GOODBYE…. It hurts!! Your kindness and care mean a lot to me. You’ve always given me much more than I really deserve. Please accept my sincere GRATITUDE.

Happy Social Networking!!

Long live Facebook!!

My best wishes for our Friendship!!

……… Love you all ……

# (To one of my close friends) Dost, not reaching the Interview Session on 17 January at 5:30 pm was what I thought to be….. reaching there in time was what was written in my DESTINY….. And, I ended up calling it a MIRACLE, something I never believed in before…… Just have a look at the schedule of 17 January……

International Affairs Exam (BCS written exam)…. 10:00 am — 1:00 pm

The departure time of the GMG Airlines: 3:20 pm, there was a delay of about 1 hour due to fog and I availed another delayed flight of Bangladesh Biman at 4:37 pm.

The plane landed on Dhaka Airport at 5:13 pm and then I started my fight against time to meet the deadline by bike with Romel bhai!! Who managed those three saviours (Sharmeen didi, Ira madam & Romel bhai) for me? I don’t know. You better ask the Heaven! I saw such a breath-taking motor-bike driving only in English movies. Before that day, I had never thought I would experience it!!

Life is sometimes stranger than fiction . . . . Who can tell it better than I?

# (To one of my senior high-profile Indian friends) Thank you Sir for your words of felicitation. IBA of Dhaka University is considered as the most prestigious institute for doing MBA in Bangladesh. As per the rules of that Business School, the Major/Field of Specialization is allowed to be chosen at the final semester judging the academic records & intention of a candidate. I don’t have much idea about what to choose and why to choose. Please share some ideas on it as you’ve huge practical knowledge (so far as I know) about the present corporate trend.

You’ve nicely stated the trend of our careerist B-school graduates. No one really cares about their own aptitude, rather, tries to be what market wants them to be. Personally, I always like the decision-making and mainstream operational sections of giant companies. And, probably I’ll go for finance as my major when I’ve to choose it in my final semester. Yes, my semester results must be well enough to work on my advantage. That’ll be a story of one and a half years later. Till then, I’ll have to undergo the generalized curriculum as my B-school formulates. The recent economic recession worries our friends studying at the US universities. And, almost all of them suggest me not to plan of staying there. But at the same time, they suggest me completing my PhD in the US if I want to and grab that opportunity. Let’s wait and see. . . . . Are you in India now? Hope you’re quite OK along with your busy schedule. Please, sometimes give me your valuable suggestions when you’ve time and you’re here on Facebook. . . . . Thank you once again for your helpful advice. Take care.

In explaining the final part of the status shared above, I had written these words:

Let me share the Story behind the Story and elucidate the last part of my status. It would have been quite impossible for me to reach Dhaka University from Dhaka International Airport within just 50 minutes (!!) to attend the interview session of IBA in time on Jan 17, but for the cordial help of Sharmeen didi (Sharmeen Muiz) & Ira madam (Johora Bebe Ira). They’re the persons who made that miracle happen!! And, Romel bhai (Monirul Alam Romel) is the “Man with the Bike” who dared fight against time to meet the deadline!! ……. I feel honoured to express my heartfelt gratitude to these three saviours. …….. Miracles Happen When You Believe!!

I conclude this piece with a beautifully strange comment Sharmeen didi made on that status: “My prayers, good wishes, and prayers remain with you. Dear brother of mine, may you grow to great heights. And may the successful reflection of our efforts (Ira’s and mine) shine through in everything you do. I was there, I am here, I will be there. …….. Heaps of hugs and love.”

What sustains a human being? We live on love, on prayers, on good wishes. These are what keep me alive—quite well alive, in fact. My gratitude!

P.S. Let me offer you some practical wisdom. Those who think they know too much, who consider themselves supremely intelligent, who speak in grand terms without any real qualifications or notable position, who try to diminish others even through outright lies, who pontificate without knowledge, who speak to you in such a manner that you begin to doubt your own confidence—I would advise you to absolutely, absolutely, and absolutely avoid such people. They themselves cannot go very far in life, nor will they allow you to go very far either.

(Written 2-3 years ago)

I have been meaning to write this piece for at least the past four years. Due to my characteristic laziness, it remained buried among my lost writings all this time. Unable to let it slip away entirely, I have resolved today to begin writing with the firm determination that, no matter how difficult it becomes, I will not leave this chair until it is finished. The trouble with not writing when one should is that the emotion and enthusiasm of that moment are lost, and often the writing fails to come alive. However, there are many exceptions to this. Sanjibchandra Chattopadhyay, the elder brother of Bankimchandra Chattopadhyay, worked for quite some time as a Deputy Magistrate in the exquisitely beautiful, remote forest region of Palamau. Many years later, he wrote ‘Palamau,’ a work born of memory and reflection. For those who have not yet read ‘Palamau,’ I will say just one thing to convey what kind of writing it is: when Bishwa Sahitya Kendra began its publishing work, everyone at the center was perplexed about which among so many masterpieces of world literature should be printed first. It was then that Abdullah Abu Sayeed decided that the first book published by Bishwa Sahitya Kendra would be ‘Palamau.’ But let me return to what I was saying. To discuss why writing intended to be written often never materializes would be to commit great injustice to oneself and others. So I shall not venture into that discussion. However, regarding this particular piece, I will only say this much: when attempting to describe one of life’s most incredible events, my hands tremble with excitement, memories blur, and a fear pervades my entire being—what would today have been like if everything that day had unfolded differently? I keep thinking that today would not have been anything like today. Today I would have been someone else entirely. Everything around me would have seemed like something else altogether. The truth is, life does not unfold the way we imagine it will. Life unfolds as life does. The color of life appears one way in imagination, but the actual color is different. Even if we think we will spend our lives playing with life itself, it does not necessarily follow that life will pass in precisely that manner. What will happen and what will not—all of this is predetermined. Our task is simply to perform brilliantly on this stage in our own way. The more skillful one’s performance, the more intimately one tastes the flavor of life.

The 30th BCS written examination began on January 11, 2011, and concluded on January 23. On the evening of Wednesday the 12th, I checked the IBA website at Dhaka University and discovered that I was among those who had passed the written portion of the MBA program admission test for the 45th batch. The candidates who passed the written exam would be divided into several groups for interviews, and my group was scheduled for Monday, January 17, at 10 AM at IBA. I had taken the BCS examination from Chittagong, where the PSC-designated examination center for Chittagong candidates was Omar Gani MES College. On the day of my IBA interview, the International Affairs exam was also scheduled to begin at 10 AM. Attending an exam at Dhaka University at the same time was simply impossible. I knew that IBA didn’t offer many second chances. Having secured this opportunity, I couldn’t imagine myself foolish or generous enough to let it slip away. Instead of studying for the next day’s Bangladesh Affairs Paper I, I began calling everyone I knew who had studied at IBA or was familiar with it. I still remember the intense excitement of that time. When something you desperately want comes within reach, yet circumstances force you to let it go—staying calm in such a moment is nearly impossible. Everyone I spoke with on the phone said the same thing: “You can’t have two good things at once. You’ll have to give up one of them. If you try to keep a foot in both boats, you’ll end up with neither. Besides, you can take the BCS exam again, and you can also take the IBA admission test again. Let go of one.” Those who valued the corporate sector highly told me to abandon BCS. Those who valued the civil service told me to pursue IBA later. No one could suggest a way to manage both. At that moment, neither option seemed bigger or smaller to me—my mind had gone completely blank, and I felt as though life was playing a game of Snakes and Ladders with me. The dice might roll such a number that I’d end up in the belly of a snake—but then again, it might not. Sometimes the number that comes up sends you climbing a ladder high above. Life’s Snakes and Ladders board doesn’t contain only snakes—there are ladders too! Who’s to say this throw won’t land on a ladder? Life is indeed like Snakes and Ladders, where the highest number isn’t necessarily the best. Perhaps I’d roll two sixes and then a five—totaling seventeen, the highest possible—yet still end up sliding down a long snake. But equally possible: rolling the smallest number, just one, and finding myself climbing rapidly up a ladder to great heights. Understanding the game of less is the most difficult thing of all! The highest number isn’t always the best. You must see how much is actually needed. Great income, great torment—what need is there for such a large sum? Knowing how to choose the right number for your life is a great art indeed!

I thought, why should I surrender before I’ve even lost? I’ll see this through to the end. At home, my parents were also saying, “Give up one of them.” My heart was telling me, “I won’t give up, not for anything!” Let me gamble with life this once and see what happens! You have to listen to your heart. I called the MBA Program Office. Zakir bhai was in charge there. He said, “IBA’s schedule doesn’t change for anyone. You change your schedule.” I said, “That’s not possible. You have several slots. BCS has only one.” Even after that he said, “It’s not possible in any way. We’re sorry!” Saying this, he hung up the phone, and my stubbornness only grew stronger. I put aside studying for the next day’s exam. After some inquiries, I learned that Rahi Sir was the Program Chairman for IBA’s MBA at the time. Only he could change my interview slot if he wanted to. Rahi Sir is an incredibly fierce person. IBA’s Marketing Department is the best in Bangladesh. Rahi Sir is the best faculty in that department. I got his number. The person I got the number from asked, “Are you really going to call Rahi Sir?” “Yes. Why?” “We students never dare to call Sir. And you’re going to call him for this?” “I will. I have to. My back is against the wall.” “God bless you, man! You better think twice.” I said, “Sometimes life doesn’t give you the opportunity to think twice. It’s the first and the only chance! I must grab it before it’s too late! I will call him. I’ll make my attempt—if it works, it works; if not, so be it. If I don’t try, it definitely won’t work. Thank you, bhai!” Right after finishing that conversation, without any second thoughts, I called Rahi Sir. A man with an extremely serious voice. It’s frightening just to speak with him. But I have nothing left to lose. I only know this: I passed IBA’s written exam and IBA has to conduct my interview. I had truly become reckless. I blurted out my entire problem in one breath. Rahi Sir said, “You silly kid! You’ve dared to call Rahi Sir for this! Did you think I am your friend? It’s not my business whether you can attend the viva board or not. You have only 2 choices: Leave IBA, or, Leave BCS.” To my infinite amazement, I heard myself saying, “Sir, I have called you to hear about the third choice. If you don’t have that, please make it for me. I know I’ll be at IBA.” Sir said very loudly over the phone, “You are a stupid little boy. You just know nothing about the things here! Don’t waste my time. I am busy!” “Sir, please give me a chance. I am………” I couldn’t make him hear any more—he hung up before that. I couldn’t understand what had happened, only felt an even stronger desire to believe that I would definitely study at IBA. BCS seemed to fade for a moment. Whatever happens in tomorrow’s exam will happen. Right now I need to sort out the IBA situation first. I called the program office again.

I asked, “When can I actually meet Rahi sir?” “What do you mean?” “Sir told me to come see him.” “Ask sir himself when you can actually meet him.” (I mustered the courage to lie….) “Sir said to call the program office and find out.” “He told you to ask us? Really! Alright, stay on the line, let me check sir’s class schedule.” Zakir bhai informed me that if I came next Friday evening, I could meet sir. Saying “thank you very much,” I hung up the phone and immediately left home to buy a bus ticket. From near Gariullah Shah’s shrine in Chittagong, I bought a ticket on Unique’s non-AC bus to Dhaka for Thursday night. The next day, under tremendous mental pressure, I took my Bangladesh Studies Paper 1 exam. Even in the exam hall, my mind kept racing: “Will Rahi sir keep his word?” In my answer sheet, I mistakenly wrote the word “Rahi” several times, though I crossed it out later.

I arrived at IBA before afternoon on Friday. I stood waiting in front of the MBA Program Office. Zakir bhai wasn’t there at the time—he came in the evening, two hours later. I went up and introduced myself. “Oh, I see, you’ve come from Chittagong. Rahi sir mentioned he would speak with you about changing your interview schedule? Really??” “Yes, he told me to come see him!” We were talking when Rahi sir arrived shortly after. He went straight through the program office into his room. A dignified man of serious disposition. His office was right next to the program office. Zakir bhai said, “Please sit on the sofa. Let me ask sir if he’s free right now.” When he told sir, “Someone named Sushanta Pal has come from Chittagong to see you—you had asked him to come,” sir immediately shouted quite loudly, “I didn’t ask anyone to come see me! Tell him to leave. Disgusting!” Zakir bhai told me, “Sir won’t see you. You should go.” “I’ll leave, but only after meeting with sir. Brother, I haven’t come here to turn back. I must see him.” Almost forcefully, I entered sir’s room without permission. After I said very politely, “Assalamu alaikum, sir,” he returned the greeting and said, “What do you want?” There were several other students in the room who had come to sir for various matters. “Sir, I called you the day before yesterday evening.” “Is it my duty to remember your call? Get out!” I said nothing and stood there with my head bowed. The words “Get out!” didn’t register in my mind. At that moment, I only knew that I would speak with Rahi sir about changing the schedule, and sir would surely agree to do so. After standing like this for nearly half an hour, sir said, “Why are you standing here like a statue?” I fearfully placed an application about changing the time slot on sir’s desk and began to say, “Sir, the day before yesterday I spoke with you on the phone…” “Speak in the language I am using now.” “Sir, my interview has been scheduled for next Monday at 10 in the morning. I am appearing for the 30th BCS written exam. I have an exam at the same time. So, I request you to shift my schedule to another convenient time slot.” “Sorry, we cannot.” “Please Sir! Otherwise, my dream to be here will be shattered.” “Let it be. Just go for BCS. You will do better being a civil servant.” “But Sir, it’s uncertain.” “Is being here certain for you?” “No Sir, that’s why I cannot leave any of these 2 opportunities. Please Sir, give me a chance. Do me a favour. I will be ever grateful, Sir.” “What time is your exam?” “10 o’clock, sir.” “How long?” “Three hours, sir.” “Okay fine, come straight here after your exam. Can you make it by 1:30?” I realized sir had forgotten that I’d come from Chittagong. “Sir, I’m taking the exam from Chittagong.” “Stupid! We cannot change our schedule for you! Are you Mr President?” “No Sir, I just want to be your student! I will do anything you tell me to do. Please give me a chance, Sir!” “Look, brother, you won’t be able to finish your exam at 1 o’clock and come from Chittagong to take the interview anyway.

You won’t make it even if you leave at 10 PM. The roads are in terrible condition, there’s heavy traffic.” “Sir, I can come in the evening.” “How? By plane?” “Yes, sir. Please give me a chance, sir.” “Alright. Don’t you have an exam the next day?” “I do, sir. I can manage. I’ll buy a return ticket.” “What time can you arrive?” “Whatever you say, sir.” “Your exam will end at 1 PM. Hmm… okay, can you make it to the 3 o’clock board?” “Yes sir, I can be there at 3.” “Do you know if there are flights at that time?” “I don’t know, sir. I’ll find out.” “I think there’s a flight around 3.” “What time can you arrive?” “4 o’clock, sir?” “Foolish boy! Your brain isn’t working. How can you take a 3 o’clock flight from Chittagong and get from the airport to IBA by 4? You have no idea about Dhaka city. Okay, you come by 5:15 sharp. You will be last person in that board. If you come after that, nothing can be done. The evening board is for Executive MBA. It won’t be possible to hold your viva there. Okay?” “Thank you, sir.” “Youngman, you have decided to play with your life! Best of luck!” “Please pray for me, sir. I can do this!” Tears came to my eyes. I realized that though this man appeared stern on the outside, he was very gentle within. I offered many prayers for the sir and left IBA. I went to Aziz and bought some books. Then I went to Fakirapul and took the 10 PM non-AC bus from Unique, reaching Chittagong in the morning.

I’m sharing the application with you:

15 January 2011

The Program Director, MBA Program

Institute of Business Administration

University of Dhaka

Dhaka

Subject: Prayer for changing the time slot of the interview schedule of the MBA Program Admission

Sir,

This letter expresses my earnest request to change my interview schedule of the MBA Program Admission 2010-2011. I am a candidate for Full-Time Course, my admit number is 2745 and I am on Interview Board 6 scheduled to be conducted at the 10:00 am to 1:00 pm time slot on January 17, 2011. I am appearing at the 30th BCS written examination and my Examination Centre is at Chittagong. I have an examination on January 17, 2011, coincided with the same time slot of the interview and so it is not possible for me to come from Chittagong and attend the interview at 10:00 am.

I will be highly obliged if you kindly permit me to attend the interview at the 6:00 pm to 8:30 pm time slot scheduled for Evening Board 3 and Evening Board 4 on January 17, 2011.

Yours faithfully

Sushanta Paul

I had never been on a plane before. I thought that wherever you go, you need a passport to fly. My elder brother called a friend who works with passport services and asked what documents are needed for an emergency passport to Dhaka. He burst out laughing! He said, “Buddy, what do you need a passport for? A plane and a bus are the same thing. One flies in the sky, the other runs on the road. That’s all there is to it! Just go buy a ticket. That’s it! Which one is good? You can go with GMG. That’s pretty good.” I didn’t know that you don’t have to rush to the airport to buy a plane ticket. I had no idea how much tickets cost. Getting off the bus in the morning, I went straight to a Dutch-Bangla Bank booth and withdrew ten thousand taka. Then I jumped into a CNG and rushed to the airport. I bought a ticket from the GMG Airlines counter for the 3:20 flight on Monday, the 17th. That was the first Chittagong-Dhaka flight of the afternoon. I booked a return ticket for the same day on the 7:45 evening flight. I felt like I could see it right before my eyes—me attending classes at IBA! Such a strange vision! I returned home with a victorious smile, almost as if I had already gotten into IBA! At night, I tried to prepare from various guides and the internet about what they might ask in the IBA interview. I studied for about 4-5 hours. At the same time, I posted a status on Facebook: How much time does it take to reach Dhaka University from Dhaka International Airport? Is it possible to reach in 40 minutes? Friends, any suggestion, please? I was truly a very simple person back then. I saw the world in very simple terms. Since I hadn’t visited Dhaka much, I didn’t know that in 2011 it wasn’t possible to get from the airport to Shahbag in 40 minutes. Everyone was saying it would take a minimum of two hours to get from the airport to the university campus in the afternoon. All sorts of bizarre comments came in reply to my status. Many started making fun of me. I’ll share some of my friends’ suggestions: “It’s possible if you run.” “It would be great if you jogged to the university. You’d get your evening exercise too!” “You shouldn’t have bought that plane ticket! With that money, if you had thrown us a party, we all would have prayed together and your BCS would have worked out! Hahahaha…..” “Young man! You’re young, just run as soon as you get off the plane! You’ll see, you’ll reach before time!” “Listen, such-and-such bus runs on such-and-such route. Hanging and sleeping, you’ll reach IBA just fine!” I got many such absurd comments. I knew absolutely nothing about Dhaka then. When you’re in trouble, doesn’t everyone have to give you a kick? It began to feel like that’s just how life is! People can’t extend a hand to pull you up, but they can certainly extend a foot to kick you down! Without getting the least bit discouraged by anyone’s words, I kept waiting to see if someone would give some good advice. I didn’t react to anyone’s reply that day. How helplessly calm a person becomes when in trouble. All I knew was this: “I’m giving my IBA interview on the 17th.” One person wrote, “You can go by bike. There’s no faster way to reach the university campus.” Some people even supported that idea. A few mentioned taxi cabs. Support was strongest for the bike option. Up until then, I had ridden a bike maybe 2-3 times in my entire life, counting generously. I didn’t really know anyone in Dhaka who had a bike, or if I did know someone, my mind wasn’t working at all then. Sometimes I think now, alas!

I couldn’t even afford to manage a bike at that time. I wrote, “My flight is scheduled to land at Dhaka Airport at 4.10 pm on 17 January. I must reach Dhaka University at or before 5.15 pm. I’ve an interview at IBA at that time. . . . Can’t I do it? Is it not possible? I need to do it at any cost. As I don’t know about the routes of Dhaka City, I’m asking for your help. Dhaka City is an unknown city to me. Can a taxi cab help me reach there in 1 hour? I can’t be late, otherwise I’ll miss the interview schedule. I’ve managed that schedule today through an application. . . Can a bike be a better solution? Or, something else? I’m in great trouble. . . .” After posting this, the mocking and laughter began all over again. I replied to the distinguished gentleman (one of Bangladesh’s most successful businessmen) who had advised me to jog there: “Thank you Sir for you ‘jogging’ suggestion. I was also seriously thinking of this option. Yes, I’ll surely manage to reach in time by vehicles, on foot, again by vehicles, again on foot . . . . And, I’ll go. I’ll be there in time by any means.” Someone said, “Change the schedule once more.” I wrote, “The schedule can’t be changed! Hopefully, there will happen some miracle and I’ll manage to avail the schedule in time.” A younger brother wrote, “Brother, you should go by taxi-cab. But you could try the bus once. Dhaka buses run quite well!” I replied, “Brother, I’m not surely making any attempt of getting on a bus! That’ll be horrible, you know. I was just seeking for a suggestion as I don’t know about the route. Thanks for the suggestion. I think a CNG powered taxi can help me in this regard. A taxi-cab is prone to getting stuck up in the congestion forever. A bike could be a better solution. But, I can’t manage it.”

Mrs. Zohra, whose name was Ira—an extremely distinguished lady—commented, “You need a bike?” “That would be wonderful.” “Alright, let me see what I can do.” She was the Deputy Managing Director of ONE Bank. After completing her studies in Chemistry from Chittagong University, she had done her MBA from IBA. She worked in the corporate sector, but there were very few people who didn’t know her. I have a sister. Her name is Sharmin Muiz Khan. At that time, she was one of those rare souls who loved someone as insignificant as me far more than necessary, showered me with affection for no particular reason. She was almost my mother’s age, but I addressed her as ‘tumi’ and she called me ‘tui’. She had studied English Literature at Dhaka University. She particularly loved my writing. She was a business magnate and had connections with many prominent people. I have rarely seen a lady as distinguished, refined, elegant, and utterly graceful as her. She commented, “Bappi, someone needs to grab you and give you a good thrashing. Are you enjoying confusing everyone by calling them all the time? Please stop wasting your time browsing Facebook and concentrate on tomorrow’s exam. Otherwise, you’re calling for another disaster. There is a saying: ‘Que sera, sera’ meaning: Whatever will be, will be. So, pray and try your best. I have given this opinion after a lot of serious thoughts. Please follow it. You will leave here right now. I don’t want to see you making even one more comment! MIRACLES HAPPEN IF YOU BELIEVE IN YOURSELF!” I replied, “Didi, things are that they’re. Things will be that they will be. And, between this two there lie some miracles that we’re never aware of. And, miracles are often stranger than facts. Facts are because they’re. Miracles are because we or someone else wants them to be. That’s the truth!” She called Mrs. Zohra. She said, “Look Ira, my brother has gotten into a bit of trouble. The poor thing is a simple soul, we should do something for him. Can’t you arrange a bike for him?” A little while later, I saw a message from Mrs. Zohra in my inbox: “Please give me your contact number. Regards” I gave it immediately. The call came within seconds. After introducing herself, she said, “You need a bike Monday at 4 PM, right?” “That would be wonderful.” “OK, a bike will be there for you at 4. My colleague Romel will pick you. Alright?” “I am truly, truly grateful. Thank you so very much!” “Let’s get the work done first, then you can thank me. I’m texting you Romel’s number. Take care.” She hung up immediately. I wrote to her: “Life is stranger than fiction, I repeat. From myself, I’ve got much less than I truly deserve. From others, I’ve got much more than I truly deserve. Is it the thing that they call miracle? I don’t know and never try to know. I let miracles happen and thankfully they always happen . . . . . . . Thank you for your generous approach. This really means a lot to me.” I wrote my piece. I don’t know if she ever read it or had the time to read it. Noble souls don’t wait for thanks. Besides, she was truly, truly busy.

He was the head of the credit section at One Bank. He had no reason to know a nobody like me, yet he knew me through my writing. Otherwise, I would never have had the privilege of speaking with him directly. And the fact that Sharmin didi had spoken to him about me—that was a big deal too. The next day was the Bangladesh Affairs Paper 2 exam. I went to sleep without studying any of it. The day after, straight from the exam hall, I went to the Westex showroom at Probortak intersection. My life’s first interview. I was incredibly excited! I had decided I’d go to the interview board wearing everything brand new. I bought a formal white shirt, black pants, black tie, black belt, black socks, white undershirt, and brown shoes. Later, from Gallery Apex I bought formal Oxford shoes, and from Time Zone a Titan wristwatch, then returned home in the evening. Seeing my antics, Ma was laughing. “Ma, why are you laughing?” “Just because, dear.” The funny thing was, Ma went with me to the exam hall every single day. She always kept me close, just like a child. Ma said, “Tomorrow I’m going to the airport with you.” And she did go—despite my protests.

Monday, the 17th. International Affairs exam. I couldn’t stay in the exam hall for the entire time due to nerves. I don’t have a car, what if the CNG takes too long to reach the airport! What if I miss the flight! The flight was at 3:20. And it takes at least 2 hours to reach the airport from Omar Gani MES College by 1 PM. Our written exam had been during winter. In the bitter cold, my fingers would freeze. Still, I kept rubbing my palms together to warm them, blowing hot breath into the hollow of my cupped hands, and wrote with all my strength. Instead of 1 o’clock, I finished the exam at 12:30, submitted my paper, and rushed out. When I emerged from the hall and reached the gate, everyone thought I must have been expelled! The intense stress was clearly written all over my face. Many showed me sympathy, told me not to worry, advised me to do better in the next BCS. I didn’t have time to respond. What could I say anyway—at that moment, life itself was one giant question mark for me! I don’t know what strength possessed my mother. She ran almost twice as fast as me, covering the distance from the college campus to the road. We got into a CNG without bargaining, paying nearly one and a half times the normal fare. I told the driver, “However you manage it, get us to the airport within two hours. If necessary, I’ll pay you extra.” It was 12:50 on the clock. The CNG started speeding. Mother opened the tiffin box and fed me khichuri, meat, and fried egg. One thought kept spinning in my head: “Will I catch the plane? If we get stuck in traffic, it’s all over!” I took off my sweater. I had left home that morning wearing my viva outfit, everything except the tie. After escaping two minor traffic jams, when we reached the airport, it was 5 minutes to 3. As soon as I got down, I touched my mother’s and aunt’s feet in respect (a distant aunt had come with us since mother couldn’t return home from the airport alone) and ran to the counter. There I learned that the flight was delayed by an hour due to dense fog. I thought, if the plane leaves at that time, there’s no way I can reach IBA by 5:15. I informed the counter staff about this. They said there was nothing they could do; they were very sorry. I inquired and learned that no other flights were departing at that time either. At that moment, I felt utterly helpless, just wanting to cry. I felt like I had no one, no one at all! I kept going from counter to counter. I found out there was a Bangladesh Biman flight departing at 3:45. There was no other flight before that. It was a bigger plane, taking 30 minutes to reach, whereas other planes take at least 40 minutes. Meaning, I would reach Dhaka airport by 4:15! I bought the ticket right then. There was great hope in my heart—if this one leaves on time, there’s nothing more to worry about. I went to the airport restroom and quickly put on my tie. I adjusted my shirt once more. Looking in the mirror, I fixed my hair with my hand. The clock hand crossed 4 after passing 3:45. The plane was delayed due to fog. We all boarded the plane at 4:15. It was my first time on a plane. I kept thinking, when will it take off, when will it take off! Every second felt like an hour! The tension was making it hard to breathe, yet the plane wouldn’t take off. I thought, oh! If only I could spend all my strength to make this plane soar into the sky! I pressed my handkerchief over my eyes to hide my tears. Finally, the plane took off. It was 4:37 on the clock. I was thinking, oh!

The plane could have taken off directly without taxiing! At least a couple of minutes would have been saved! The plane landed on Dhaka’s runway at 5:13.

I burst out of the domestic terminal running with all my might, and gasping for breath, I saw a motorcycle come to a stop right in front of me. “You’re Sushanta, right? Get on the back!” I extended my hand to shake hands with the young man in the black helmet. He didn’t raise his black-gloved right fist for a handshake. “Time’s wasting, brother! Please get on! Quick!” I didn’t argue further. “You’re not used to riding bikes, are you?” “Yes. How did you know?” “Brother, I’ve been riding bikes for the past 18-20 years. I can tell.” “I see.” “Lean forward and press your chest firmly against my back! You can even wrap your arms around me, otherwise you’ll get thrown off. For sure! I’m going to ride fast.” The way that bike tore out of the airport—I don’t have the courage to even think about it today. Under normal circumstances, I might have screamed in fear and told him to stop, or I really would have been thrown off. But at that moment I knew that being afraid was important, but far more important was reaching IBA alive. I don’t know if the wheels of that 150cc bike actually touched the ground that day, but for the second time in my life I understood this truth: you cannot frighten someone who stakes their life to touch their dreams. I had only seen bikes racing so recklessly on the roads in movies. The bike was literally cutting through the whooshing sound of wind, as if flying through the air! “Say brother, are you somebody really important?” “What do you mean?” “Well, Madam told me that one of her very important friends had to be delivered from the airport to IBA within half an hour, no matter what. That was her order! Who are you, brother? Hahahaha………” “I’m Madam’s Facebook friend.” “What are you saying, man? How’s that possible! I was thinking even more… you mean you’ve never even met her?” “No, brother. Why?” (There’s a railway crossing ahead. The barrier is coming down.) “Brother, duck your head a little.” Saying this, he quickly rode the bike under the barrier without obeying the signal. Many people behind us were shouting for us to stop. “Brother, just don’t be afraid. Nothing will happen. You can close your eyes if you want.” Right at that moment, while quickly emerging from between two trucks standing side by side, he said, “Sit a bit smaller, brother!” A little further ahead—massive traffic jam at a signal! Romel bhai lifted the bike onto the sidewalk. “Brother, please give way a little, give way a little,” he kept saying as he raced forward. He had to do this several times. Sometimes when riding on the central divider in the middle of the road, traffic police would catch us, and he’d say in a tearful voice, “Sir, my aunt is fighting for her life in the medical college. I’m going to donate blood. O-negative blood—we can’t find any. If I don’t reach on time, we won’t be able to save my aunt, sir!” He’d manage the police with this story and then race off at the same speed again! Whenever there was a traffic jam on the road, he’d immediately change to another road. That day I learned that when obstacles appear on the road, it doesn’t mean there is no road. Rather, it means you have to take a different road! Right now!! I had only seen such daredevil biking in Hollywood action movies. Looking at my hair in the bike’s mirror, it seemed as if it had stood up straight after an electric shock! My face was covered with dust from the city. In the fierce wind, my tie was flying behind me in the air. I don’t know if anyone has ever seen a bike race so recklessly through Dhaka’s roads during rush hour. But for some reason, I truly wasn’t afraid at all. I kept thinking over and over, “How quickly can one reach IBA!” Romel bhai had finished his honors and master’s from Dhaka College before joining the bank. I had asked him, “What’s your designation at the bank?” He had joked, “Not much, just 14 more promotions and I’ll be able to sit in Zohra Madam’s chair. Hahaha…….”

When I arrived in front of IBA, my watch showed 5:52. As I got down, I saw my younger brother Pappu and his friend Arefin standing there. At that time, I had my gift shop ‘Dobhana.’ Pappu and Arefin were my working partners. They often came to Dhaka from Chawk Bazaar in Old Dhaka to buy wholesale goods for the shop. I had withdrawn myself from the shop to focus on my BCS exam preparation. They ran everything. They were already in Dhaka on shop business. I had told them to go to the IBA MBA program office and keep me updated by phone about the viva board situation. Through repeated conversations with them, I was checking whether the interview board was still there, asking them to go to the program office and explain that I couldn’t arrive on time due to flight delays, terrible traffic jams, and so on. As soon as I got down, they informed me, “Bhaiya, the board left 4-5 minutes ago. Now only the Executive MBA viva remains.” After introducing them to Romel bhai, I rushed up to the MBA program office on the second floor. As soon as they saw me, everyone there stopped their work and looked at me. I saw Rahi Sir busy with something; he didn’t respond to my greeting. “Sir, I’m very late. Despite trying hard, I couldn’t arrive on time. I…” Without giving me a chance to say anything more, he shouted, “You Idiot! Get out!” “Sir, I…” “I said, Get out! Out! Out!! I knew very well that you wouldn’t be able to come on time. Is it possible to take one exam in Chittagong and then come to Dhaka for another exam? That easy? You’ve just wasted my time! I had told everyone that a boy from Chittagong would come at 5:15, and we needed to take his viva. Did you think I am a joker?” “Sir, I came here with great difficulty. The flight was delayed, there was heavy traffic on the road. I really…” “It’s none of my business! Get out! Go back where you came from.” “Sir, I had many dreams of studying at IBA.” “Everyone on the street has such dreams. I gave you a chance but you missed it. That’s all! Get out of here.” “Sir, please have some mercy…” (I felt like falling at his feet and crying…) Right beside him sat a gentle-looking gentleman much younger than the sir. He said, “Sir, I’ve heard about him. His younger brother kept coming to our program office. They had been standing in front of the office for hours. His flight was indeed delayed. And there’s heavy traffic in Dhaka today too. A friend of mine came to my room from the airport a while ago; it took him a long time to get here too. Give him a chance, Sir. He’s come so far, taking such risks with great difficulty! He apparently has another written exam tomorrow too. The poor fellow has to return to Chittagong today itself.” “Son, you junior faculty members don’t even know what you’re saying, what kind of requests you make. Why are you pleading for him? Is he your relative or something?” “No no Sir, I’m seeing him for the first time today. Just look at his face once, Sir. He’s really come here with great difficulty. Please do him a favor, Sir.” “You have no idea what you are talking about! Will the Executive MBA viva be the same as theirs? They have 3 years of job experience, while these are just children in comparison!

“This won’t be possible, brother. I am sorry!” “Sir, please help the poor fellow a bit. He’s come such a long way with so much hope!” “Son, we can’t manage anything more for you!” I stood a little distance away, head bowed. Looking at me, he called out loudly, “Hey, stupid! Why are you standing there like a donkey? Go on, go to the third floor! Go and stand there absolutely quietly. We’ll call you.” I truly couldn’t understand whether such a beautiful moment had ever come anywhere in this world before! Tears began streaming down my face. I prayed again and again from my heart for Babu sir. Rahi sir seemed like a father figure to me. I kept remembering mother’s words: “Never get angry at teachers’ scolding. When teachers scold, it means blessings.” Overwhelmed with emotion, as I was about to leave after thanking and saluting the teachers, Rahi sir called from behind, “Hey crazy boy! Comb your hair before entering the board! Wash your face at the basin! Don’t be so scared! Hahaha…” I couldn’t say anything more. I kept staring blankly at sir’s face. My cheeks were wet with tears from both eyes. Babu sir placed his hand on my shoulder and said, “Go on, go upstairs and wait. We are not that much bad people as you thought us to be. Sometimes even the IBA faculties are too good! Freshen up, give your interview properly, now there’s no tension anymore. What’s your exam tomorrow?” “Sir, Mathematical Reasoning and Mental Ability.” “How will you go?” “Sir, I have a return plane ticket.” “Good! Brother, splash some water on your eyes and face to fix your appearance. Give your viva quickly and rush to the airport! Good luck!” At that moment I felt like touching sir’s feet in salute. People get frightened by sudden intense love. For the first time, it suddenly struck me: “What if I can’t honor this love of my teachers? What if I don’t get a chance at IBA in the end?”

When we find ourselves in trouble, if our intentions are pure, a way out always emerges! I went to the washroom on the third floor and tried my best to “make myself presentable” by wetting my hair and smoothing it down. After splashing water on my face, I went and waited in front of the notice board. I was called after 10 minutes. It was nearly seven o’clock. When I entered the room, I saw many faculty members seated there. I hadn’t known that so many would be present for an interview. I thought this was perhaps how IBA interviews were conducted. I later learned that this entire panel had been assembled just for me. Apart from Babu Sir and Rahi Sir, I didn’t recognize anyone else. After getting admitted, I realized that those present that evening were IBA’s most senior and accomplished faculty members. The board included Saiful Majid Sir, Shama-e-Zahir Sir, Mamun Sir, Munir Khosru Sir, Niaz Sir, and Saif Noman Khan Sir. Most of the junior faculty had finished their interviews and gone home, while some senior faculty were in their offices conducting Executive MBA interviews. Some of them had been specially called in. I was in the interview for about 18-20 minutes. Many of the faculty members knew about my situation that day. I had heard of something called “divine possession” in life. At certain special moments, due to particular external influences or circumstances, people suddenly gain extraordinary power. In those moments, they step outside their normal state and display different behavior. They can harness the utmost potential of their inner infinite strength. In that wondrous balanced fusion of emotion and capability, the best version of themselves emerges. From the moment I entered the interview room, I had very likely become a different person, or perhaps the very best ‘me’ from within had emerged that day. By what divine signal this happened, I don’t know. No hesitation, doubt, nervousness, fear, the day’s exhaustion, or lethargy was affecting me at all. I felt incredibly composed and light as a feather. It felt as though whatever I was saying or doing was the best possible. I was experiencing the finest moment of my life right then and there. I can say with complete honesty that the style in which I spoke English that day—I have never in my entire life, even to this day, been able to speak English so flawlessly and fluently. That day the faculty members engaged in various kinds of humor during the interview. They were having great fun with me. Most likely, the faculty wanted to “shake me up” somehow. I don’t know why, by whose indication I don’t know, but I kept answering all their questions one by one with a very cool head and a smile that day. They interviewed me in English on various diverse topics, starting from describing the entire day’s events and the preceding Facebook incidents to many other subjects. (Of course, at IBA there’s absolutely no opportunity to give interviews in Bengali.) Why I wanted to pursue an MBA, why IBA if I was going to take government job exams anyway, my weaknesses, whether I’d ever been in love, how I spend my leisure time, some conversation about reading books, various economic issues of Bangladesh, some personal and family matters, my future plans, the breathless motorcycle journey from A to Z, the BCS examination system, why I went into engineering despite having no interest, why I delayed my honors degree, why I didn’t study properly, why my CGPA was so low, what I like to eat, what kind of personality I prefer in people, what I know about IBA, some current affairs, and several other questions. I was answering very quickly in correct English. The faculty praised this too. I gave a very simple, straightforward, and candid interview. I didn’t speak a single false word that day.

I didn’t need to think before speaking—whatever came to mind, I simply said, so there was no chance to fabricate lies. At the end, they asked me to sing a song. When I said, “I can’t, Sir,” Babu Sir showed me my info-form and laughed, saying, “But you’ve claimed so.” I had written Reading, Writing, Singing in the hobbies section… At that moment, it felt like I was living the best day of my life. I sang, “Aaj ei dintake…” “I see, we’re getting a singer for our cultural program!” As Saiful Majid Sir was saying this, Babu Sir interjected, “Sir, he has another exam tomorrow. He’ll probably be flying back to Chittagong tonight.” Then three or four teachers exclaimed in unison, “What! He’s going back to Chittagong right now? Well then, run along, run along! Go downstairs and see if your superman biker is there! Hahahaha…” As I was leaving with my salaam, the teachers called out, “Best of luck for your tomorrow’s exam.” I kept thinking, again and again—I’ll make it, I’ll make it! (Even after giving the BCS viva, I didn’t feel this good.)

When I stepped out of IBA, it was half past seven on the clock. I knew there was no way I could catch the 7:45 flight. I also knew that I had no idea how I would get to Chittagong that night. I didn’t even feel like thinking about it. Only the exhilarating rush of having given a good exam was coursing through me. Pappu and Arefin had been waiting for me at Madhu’s canteen. Taking them along, I went to the front of Dhaka University’s Central Library and leisurely began eating vegetable pakoras and tea. Many of my students studied in various departments at Dhaka University. Quite a few came to see me. They were asking what questions had been asked in the interview. After a day of incredible experiences, my head had become almost entirely empty. I couldn’t understand why I wasn’t feeling the slightest urgency to return to Chittagong. Pappu asked, “Brother, will you take the night bus?” I said, “Yes, that could work.” (It amuses me now to think how casually I had said ‘that could work’!) The road conditions weren’t good then either, there were always traffic jams. It didn’t even occur to me—what would happen if I couldn’t reach by 10 AM tomorrow? Ripon, a dear younger brother who lived in Chittagong and was one of my former students, said, “Brother, I have a non-AC train ticket; for Turna Nishitha, leaving tonight. It doesn’t matter if I don’t go to Chittagong today. Brother, you take it.” “Alright, fine,” I said, took the ticket, and set off toward Kamalapur Station. That night the train left nearly an hour and a half late. I didn’t even want to think about what was going to happen! I had already surrendered myself to fate long before. In my mind I kept repeating only this: whatever will be, will be. Whether I want it or not, it will happen. And whatever is happening is surely for the good; whatever will happen will surely be for the good too. Let’s see! After the day’s exhaustion, I had a very peaceful sleep. Suddenly I woke up hearing commotion around me. The train had stopped at Comilla. Apparently there was some problem with the line. We were delayed there for nearly two and a quarter hours. I couldn’t understand why I wasn’t feeling any kind of anxiety! I fell asleep again. Sleep is the world’s only faithful lover. Whenever I want it, I find it near. Never, under any circumstances, does it abandon me. There can be no purer love than the love for sleep.

When the train reached Chittagong railway station the next day, it was a quarter to ten in the morning. My exam was scheduled to start at ten. It takes only fifteen minutes to get from the station to my house. When I got home, I found my mother sitting there with everything ready in her hands—my pencil box, board, scale, pen, calculator, admit card, registration card, all of it. My parents had been terribly anxious at home. I hadn’t been able to speak to them since after half past one at night. My mobile had run out of charge. (I was using a cheap Nokia 1100 mobile set back then. Everyone called it the “national set”! It was so sturdy that many would joke, “Dude, you could crack jackfruit with that phone!” I’d tease my friends who used expensive mobiles, saying, “My phone’s model is ‘N Eleven Zero Zero’!”) As soon as my mother saw me, she said, “Dear, how are you? Will you take today’s exam?” I felt emotionally numb. It seemed as though I was lighter than a feather at that moment, floating around in some kind of trance! I smiled and said, “Ma, I’m perfectly fine. I’ll take the exam.” Saying this, I took the packed shopping bag from my mother’s hands and left the house just as I was. It was 10:05 on the clock. From our house to the exam center, it takes at least thirty minutes by CNG during office hours. When I reached the college gate, it was 10:43. That day was the mathematical reasoning and mental ability test. The first two hours were mathematical reasoning, followed by one hour of mental ability. The exam had already started forty-three minutes earlier. Naturally, the police wouldn’t let me enter. I pleaded extensively, kept trying futilely to explain what had happened, but they weren’t willing to listen to anything. But I had made up my mind—I wasn’t going to turn back, I would get inside no matter what. A small commotion started gathering there. Seeing the crowd, the magistrate came over. After hearing my entire story, he said, “You only have one hour left. Can you finish all the math problems in this time?” Without a moment’s hesitation, I said, “I can, sir!” “Alright, go ahead. Good luck!” My heart overflowed with gratitude toward him. At that moment, he seemed to me not human, but divine! I went in, looked at the questions, took the exam. I even showed three problems to the person sitting next to me. (He got a job in Audit and Accounts in the 30th batch.) I scored 98 on that day’s exam—50 in math, 48 in mental ability. After that… well, as everyone says—the rest is history!

But this much is true: had that day’s exam been something other than mathematics, I would have been in real trouble. I can handle math because the type of problems that appeared in the BCS written exam back then weren’t particularly difficult for me to solve. Such problems don’t strain the mind much, and the 30th BCS written exam featured relatively easy math. Even if I worked through each step carefully and added side notes, it shouldn’t have taken more than half an hour. It didn’t for me either. However, spending two and a half hours on the International Affairs exam the day before had been risky. Actually, no matter how incredible the whole affair might seem, everything appears to have been predetermined by the Creator or nature itself. What remains inexplicable to our limited understanding is simply a natural, ordinary occurrence for the Creator. All our failures and successes are already decided beforehand. But to reach that point, the effort—or making the right decision at the right time—that we must do ourselves. I wasn’t even supposed to pass my undergraduate degree. Yet it was my destiny to complete my undergraduate studies, become a BCS cadre, study at IBA—all of it was written in my fate. Had my destiny been bound elsewhere, I would have gone there instead. I had enrolled in another master’s program under Dhaka University—MDS. After continuing that course for three months, I left it of my own accord. They had said I would need to officially hide the fact that I was simultaneously pursuing another master’s at IBA. I refused to lie. I harbor no regret about this, though. I’ve accepted that pursuing that particular master’s degree simply wasn’t written in my destiny. This is the truth, this is reality. I had gained admission to Dhaka University’s Evening MBA program in Finance, ranking sixth on the merit list, but never had to attend classes there. I received my IBA admission test results before that. I did complete my master’s in Finance from Dhaka University, but the Evening MBA program wasn’t destined for me, so I didn’t pursue my master’s degree from there.

Stepping into two boats in the middle of a river ensures certain death. Logic dictates this. But I placed my feet in two boats, taking the maximum risk—I had no other choice—yet both boats moved forward in parallel at the same speed at the same time, so I didn’t slip between them and lose my life. What explanation could there be for this? Life doesn’t follow logic; life follows the Creator’s signals. Life doesn’t always operate according to explanations. Sometimes life moves on faith. So there’s nothing to say about anyone’s personal philosophy and the life they live according to their beliefs, as long as that life doesn’t interfere with someone else’s way of living. Somewhere, no explicable form of life can be seen, and life is just like this!

Through sheer mental strength alone, I had believed that some miracle would surely occur. It did happen, because in Providence’s master plan, that’s what was meant to happen. Everything in between was the Creator’s games or plans to test my patience and concentration. You will never be given a gift you don’t deserve. You will be tested, and if you fail to pass that test, you will deprive yourself of the Creator’s grace through your own fault. I’m sharing with you the Facebook status I posted after the IBA admission test results came out, along with a couple of my own comments on it:

Friends, I’ve been finally selected for admission into the MBA Program of IBA, Dhaka University. …… feeling happy. ……. HATS OFF to Sharmeen didi, Ira madam & Romel bhai!!

# My dear friends….. Your gorgeous presence on my wall makes me think twice about the POWER of friendship & the MAGIC of love. YES……… They matter!! I just want to be with you forever. Please never say GOODBYE…. It hurts!! Your kindness and care mean a lot to me. You’ve always given me much more than I really deserve. Please accept my sincere GRATITUDE.

Happy Social Networking!!

Long live Facebook!!

My best wishes for our Friendship!!

……… Love you all ……

# (To one of my close friends) Dost, not reaching the Interview Session on 17 January at 5:30 pm was what I thought to be….. reaching there in time was what was written in my DESTINY….. And, I ended up calling it a MIRACLE, something I never believed in before…… Just have a look at the schedule of 17 January……

International Affairs Exam (BCS written exam)…. 10:00 am — 1:00 pm

The departure time of the GMG Airlines: 3:20 pm, there was a delay of about 1 hour due to fog and I availed another delayed flight of Bangladesh Biman at 4:37 pm.

The plane landed on Dhaka Airport at 5:13 pm and then I started my fight against time to meet the deadline by bike with Romel bhai!! Who managed those three saviours (Sharmeen didi, Ira madam & Romel bhai) for me? I don’t know. You better ask the Heaven! I saw such a breath-taking motor-bike driving only in English movies. Before that day, I had never thought I would experience it!!

Life is sometimes stranger than fiction . . . . Who can tell it better than I?

# (To one of my senior high-profile Indian friends) Thank you Sir for your words of felicitation. IBA of Dhaka University is considered as the most prestigious institute for doing MBA in Bangladesh. As per the rules of that Business School, the Major/Field of Specialization is allowed to be chosen at the final semester judging the academic records & intention of a candidate. I don’t have much idea about what to choose and why to choose. Please share some ideas on it as you’ve huge practical knowledge (so far as I know) about the present corporate trend.

You’ve nicely stated the trend of our careerist B-school graduates. No one really cares about their own aptitude, rather, tries to be what market wants them to be. Personally, I always like the decision-making and mainstream operational sections of giant companies. And, probably I’ll go for finance as my major when I’ve to choose it in my final semester. Yes, my semester results must be well enough to work on my advantage. That’ll be a story of one and a half years later. Till then, I’ll have to undergo the generalized curriculum as my B-school formulates. The recent economic recession worries our friends studying at the US universities. And, almost all of them suggest me not to plan of staying there. But at the same time, they suggest me completing my PhD in the US if I want to and grab that opportunity. Let’s wait and see. . . . . Are you in India now? Hope you’re quite OK along with your busy schedule. Please, sometimes give me your valuable suggestions when you’ve time and you’re here on Facebook. . . . . Thank you once again for your helpful advice. Take care.

In explaining the final part of the status shared above, I had written these words:

Let me share the Story behind the Story and elucidate the last part of my status. It would have been quite impossible for me to reach Dhaka University from Dhaka International Airport within just 50 minutes (!!) to attend the interview session of IBA in time on Jan 17, but for the cordial help of Sharmeen didi (Sharmeen Muiz) & Ira madam (Johora Bebe Ira). They’re the persons who made that miracle happen!! And, Romel bhai (Monirul Alam Romel) is the “Man with the Bike” who dared fight against time to meet the deadline!! ……. I feel honoured to express my heartfelt gratitude to these three saviours. …….. Miracles Happen When You Believe!!

I conclude this piece with a beautifully strange comment Sharmeen didi made on that status: “My prayers, good wishes, and prayers remain with you. Dear brother of mine, may you grow to great heights. And may the successful reflection of our efforts (Ira’s and mine) shine through in everything you do. I was there, I am here, I will be there. …….. Heaps of hugs and love.”

What sustains a human being? We live on love, on prayers, on good wishes. These are what keep me alive—quite well alive, in fact. My gratitude!

P.S. Let me offer you some practical wisdom. Those who think they know too much, who consider themselves supremely intelligent, who speak in grand terms without any real qualifications or notable position, who try to diminish others even through outright lies, who pontificate without knowledge, who speak to you in such a manner that you begin to doubt your own confidence—I would advise you to absolutely, absolutely, and absolutely avoid such people. They themselves cannot go very far in life, nor will they allow you to go very far either.

(Written 2-3 years ago)

I had never been on a plane before. I thought that wherever you go, you need a passport to fly. My elder brother called a friend who works with passport services and asked what documents are needed for an emergency passport to Dhaka. He burst out laughing! He said, “Buddy, what do you need a passport for? A plane and a bus are the same thing. One flies in the sky, the other runs on the road. That’s all there is to it! Just go buy a ticket. That’s it! Which one is good? You can go with GMG. That’s pretty good.” I didn’t know that you don’t have to rush to the airport to buy a plane ticket. I had no idea how much tickets cost. Getting off the bus in the morning, I went straight to a Dutch-Bangla Bank booth and withdrew ten thousand taka. Then I jumped into a CNG and rushed to the airport. I bought a ticket from the GMG Airlines counter for the 3:20 flight on Monday, the 17th. That was the first Chittagong-Dhaka flight of the afternoon. I booked a return ticket for the same day on the 7:45 evening flight. I felt like I could see it right before my eyes—me attending classes at IBA! Such a strange vision! I returned home with a victorious smile, almost as if I had already gotten into IBA! At night, I tried to prepare from various guides and the internet about what they might ask in the IBA interview. I studied for about 4-5 hours. At the same time, I posted a status on Facebook: How much time does it take to reach Dhaka University from Dhaka International Airport? Is it possible to reach in 40 minutes? Friends, any suggestion, please? I was truly a very simple person back then. I saw the world in very simple terms. Since I hadn’t visited Dhaka much, I didn’t know that in 2011 it wasn’t possible to get from the airport to Shahbag in 40 minutes. Everyone was saying it would take a minimum of two hours to get from the airport to the university campus in the afternoon. All sorts of bizarre comments came in reply to my status. Many started making fun of me. I’ll share some of my friends’ suggestions: “It’s possible if you run.” “It would be great if you jogged to the university. You’d get your evening exercise too!” “You shouldn’t have bought that plane ticket! With that money, if you had thrown us a party, we all would have prayed together and your BCS would have worked out! Hahahaha…..” “Young man! You’re young, just run as soon as you get off the plane! You’ll see, you’ll reach before time!” “Listen, such-and-such bus runs on such-and-such route. Hanging and sleeping, you’ll reach IBA just fine!” I got many such absurd comments. I knew absolutely nothing about Dhaka then. When you’re in trouble, doesn’t everyone have to give you a kick? It began to feel like that’s just how life is! People can’t extend a hand to pull you up, but they can certainly extend a foot to kick you down! Without getting the least bit discouraged by anyone’s words, I kept waiting to see if someone would give some good advice. I didn’t react to anyone’s reply that day. How helplessly calm a person becomes when in trouble. All I knew was this: “I’m giving my IBA interview on the 17th.” One person wrote, “You can go by bike. There’s no faster way to reach the university campus.” Some people even supported that idea. A few mentioned taxi cabs. Support was strongest for the bike option. Up until then, I had ridden a bike maybe 2-3 times in my entire life, counting generously. I didn’t really know anyone in Dhaka who had a bike, or if I did know someone, my mind wasn’t working at all then. Sometimes I think now, alas!

I couldn’t even afford to manage a bike at that time. I wrote, “My flight is scheduled to land at Dhaka Airport at 4.10 pm on 17 January. I must reach Dhaka University at or before 5.15 pm. I’ve an interview at IBA at that time. . . . Can’t I do it? Is it not possible? I need to do it at any cost. As I don’t know about the routes of Dhaka City, I’m asking for your help. Dhaka City is an unknown city to me. Can a taxi cab help me reach there in 1 hour? I can’t be late, otherwise I’ll miss the interview schedule. I’ve managed that schedule today through an application. . . Can a bike be a better solution? Or, something else? I’m in great trouble. . . .” After posting this, the mocking and laughter began all over again. I replied to the distinguished gentleman (one of Bangladesh’s most successful businessmen) who had advised me to jog there: “Thank you Sir for you ‘jogging’ suggestion. I was also seriously thinking of this option. Yes, I’ll surely manage to reach in time by vehicles, on foot, again by vehicles, again on foot . . . . And, I’ll go. I’ll be there in time by any means.” Someone said, “Change the schedule once more.” I wrote, “The schedule can’t be changed! Hopefully, there will happen some miracle and I’ll manage to avail the schedule in time.” A younger brother wrote, “Brother, you should go by taxi-cab. But you could try the bus once. Dhaka buses run quite well!” I replied, “Brother, I’m not surely making any attempt of getting on a bus! That’ll be horrible, you know. I was just seeking for a suggestion as I don’t know about the route. Thanks for the suggestion. I think a CNG powered taxi can help me in this regard. A taxi-cab is prone to getting stuck up in the congestion forever. A bike could be a better solution. But, I can’t manage it.”

Mrs. Zohra, whose name was Ira—an extremely distinguished lady—commented, “You need a bike?” “That would be wonderful.” “Alright, let me see what I can do.” She was the Deputy Managing Director of ONE Bank. After completing her studies in Chemistry from Chittagong University, she had done her MBA from IBA. She worked in the corporate sector, but there were very few people who didn’t know her. I have a sister. Her name is Sharmin Muiz Khan. At that time, she was one of those rare souls who loved someone as insignificant as me far more than necessary, showered me with affection for no particular reason. She was almost my mother’s age, but I addressed her as ‘tumi’ and she called me ‘tui’. She had studied English Literature at Dhaka University. She particularly loved my writing. She was a business magnate and had connections with many prominent people. I have rarely seen a lady as distinguished, refined, elegant, and utterly graceful as her. She commented, “Bappi, someone needs to grab you and give you a good thrashing. Are you enjoying confusing everyone by calling them all the time? Please stop wasting your time browsing Facebook and concentrate on tomorrow’s exam. Otherwise, you’re calling for another disaster. There is a saying: ‘Que sera, sera’ meaning: Whatever will be, will be. So, pray and try your best. I have given this opinion after a lot of serious thoughts. Please follow it. You will leave here right now. I don’t want to see you making even one more comment! MIRACLES HAPPEN IF YOU BELIEVE IN YOURSELF!” I replied, “Didi, things are that they’re. Things will be that they will be. And, between this two there lie some miracles that we’re never aware of. And, miracles are often stranger than facts. Facts are because they’re. Miracles are because we or someone else wants them to be. That’s the truth!” She called Mrs. Zohra. She said, “Look Ira, my brother has gotten into a bit of trouble. The poor thing is a simple soul, we should do something for him. Can’t you arrange a bike for him?” A little while later, I saw a message from Mrs. Zohra in my inbox: “Please give me your contact number. Regards” I gave it immediately. The call came within seconds. After introducing herself, she said, “You need a bike Monday at 4 PM, right?” “That would be wonderful.” “OK, a bike will be there for you at 4. My colleague Romel will pick you. Alright?” “I am truly, truly grateful. Thank you so very much!” “Let’s get the work done first, then you can thank me. I’m texting you Romel’s number. Take care.” She hung up immediately. I wrote to her: “Life is stranger than fiction, I repeat. From myself, I’ve got much less than I truly deserve. From others, I’ve got much more than I truly deserve. Is it the thing that they call miracle? I don’t know and never try to know. I let miracles happen and thankfully they always happen . . . . . . . Thank you for your generous approach. This really means a lot to me.” I wrote my piece. I don’t know if she ever read it or had the time to read it. Noble souls don’t wait for thanks. Besides, she was truly, truly busy.

He was the head of the credit section at One Bank. He had no reason to know a nobody like me, yet he knew me through my writing. Otherwise, I would never have had the privilege of speaking with him directly. And the fact that Sharmin didi had spoken to him about me—that was a big deal too. The next day was the Bangladesh Affairs Paper 2 exam. I went to sleep without studying any of it. The day after, straight from the exam hall, I went to the Westex showroom at Probortak intersection. My life’s first interview. I was incredibly excited! I had decided I’d go to the interview board wearing everything brand new. I bought a formal white shirt, black pants, black tie, black belt, black socks, white undershirt, and brown shoes. Later, from Gallery Apex I bought formal Oxford shoes, and from Time Zone a Titan wristwatch, then returned home in the evening. Seeing my antics, Ma was laughing. “Ma, why are you laughing?” “Just because, dear.” The funny thing was, Ma went with me to the exam hall every single day. She always kept me close, just like a child. Ma said, “Tomorrow I’m going to the airport with you.” And she did go—despite my protests.

Monday, the 17th. International Affairs exam. I couldn’t stay in the exam hall for the entire time due to nerves. I don’t have a car, what if the CNG takes too long to reach the airport! What if I miss the flight! The flight was at 3:20. And it takes at least 2 hours to reach the airport from Omar Gani MES College by 1 PM. Our written exam had been during winter. In the bitter cold, my fingers would freeze. Still, I kept rubbing my palms together to warm them, blowing hot breath into the hollow of my cupped hands, and wrote with all my strength. Instead of 1 o’clock, I finished the exam at 12:30, submitted my paper, and rushed out. When I emerged from the hall and reached the gate, everyone thought I must have been expelled! The intense stress was clearly written all over my face. Many showed me sympathy, told me not to worry, advised me to do better in the next BCS. I didn’t have time to respond. What could I say anyway—at that moment, life itself was one giant question mark for me! I don’t know what strength possessed my mother. She ran almost twice as fast as me, covering the distance from the college campus to the road. We got into a CNG without bargaining, paying nearly one and a half times the normal fare. I told the driver, “However you manage it, get us to the airport within two hours. If necessary, I’ll pay you extra.” It was 12:50 on the clock. The CNG started speeding. Mother opened the tiffin box and fed me khichuri, meat, and fried egg. One thought kept spinning in my head: “Will I catch the plane? If we get stuck in traffic, it’s all over!” I took off my sweater. I had left home that morning wearing my viva outfit, everything except the tie. After escaping two minor traffic jams, when we reached the airport, it was 5 minutes to 3. As soon as I got down, I touched my mother’s and aunt’s feet in respect (a distant aunt had come with us since mother couldn’t return home from the airport alone) and ran to the counter. There I learned that the flight was delayed by an hour due to dense fog. I thought, if the plane leaves at that time, there’s no way I can reach IBA by 5:15. I informed the counter staff about this. They said there was nothing they could do; they were very sorry. I inquired and learned that no other flights were departing at that time either. At that moment, I felt utterly helpless, just wanting to cry. I felt like I had no one, no one at all! I kept going from counter to counter. I found out there was a Bangladesh Biman flight departing at 3:45. There was no other flight before that. It was a bigger plane, taking 30 minutes to reach, whereas other planes take at least 40 minutes. Meaning, I would reach Dhaka airport by 4:15! I bought the ticket right then. There was great hope in my heart—if this one leaves on time, there’s nothing more to worry about. I went to the airport restroom and quickly put on my tie. I adjusted my shirt once more. Looking in the mirror, I fixed my hair with my hand. The clock hand crossed 4 after passing 3:45. The plane was delayed due to fog. We all boarded the plane at 4:15. It was my first time on a plane. I kept thinking, when will it take off, when will it take off! Every second felt like an hour! The tension was making it hard to breathe, yet the plane wouldn’t take off. I thought, oh! If only I could spend all my strength to make this plane soar into the sky! I pressed my handkerchief over my eyes to hide my tears. Finally, the plane took off. It was 4:37 on the clock. I was thinking, oh!

The plane could have taken off directly without taxiing! At least a couple of minutes would have been saved! The plane landed on Dhaka’s runway at 5:13.

I burst out of the domestic terminal running with all my might, and gasping for breath, I saw a motorcycle come to a stop right in front of me. “You’re Sushanta, right? Get on the back!” I extended my hand to shake hands with the young man in the black helmet. He didn’t raise his black-gloved right fist for a handshake. “Time’s wasting, brother! Please get on! Quick!” I didn’t argue further. “You’re not used to riding bikes, are you?” “Yes. How did you know?” “Brother, I’ve been riding bikes for the past 18-20 years. I can tell.” “I see.” “Lean forward and press your chest firmly against my back! You can even wrap your arms around me, otherwise you’ll get thrown off. For sure! I’m going to ride fast.” The way that bike tore out of the airport—I don’t have the courage to even think about it today. Under normal circumstances, I might have screamed in fear and told him to stop, or I really would have been thrown off. But at that moment I knew that being afraid was important, but far more important was reaching IBA alive. I don’t know if the wheels of that 150cc bike actually touched the ground that day, but for the second time in my life I understood this truth: you cannot frighten someone who stakes their life to touch their dreams. I had only seen bikes racing so recklessly on the roads in movies. The bike was literally cutting through the whooshing sound of wind, as if flying through the air! “Say brother, are you somebody really important?” “What do you mean?” “Well, Madam told me that one of her very important friends had to be delivered from the airport to IBA within half an hour, no matter what. That was her order! Who are you, brother? Hahahaha………” “I’m Madam’s Facebook friend.” “What are you saying, man? How’s that possible! I was thinking even more… you mean you’ve never even met her?” “No, brother. Why?” (There’s a railway crossing ahead. The barrier is coming down.) “Brother, duck your head a little.” Saying this, he quickly rode the bike under the barrier without obeying the signal. Many people behind us were shouting for us to stop. “Brother, just don’t be afraid. Nothing will happen. You can close your eyes if you want.” Right at that moment, while quickly emerging from between two trucks standing side by side, he said, “Sit a bit smaller, brother!” A little further ahead—massive traffic jam at a signal! Romel bhai lifted the bike onto the sidewalk. “Brother, please give way a little, give way a little,” he kept saying as he raced forward. He had to do this several times. Sometimes when riding on the central divider in the middle of the road, traffic police would catch us, and he’d say in a tearful voice, “Sir, my aunt is fighting for her life in the medical college. I’m going to donate blood. O-negative blood—we can’t find any. If I don’t reach on time, we won’t be able to save my aunt, sir!” He’d manage the police with this story and then race off at the same speed again! Whenever there was a traffic jam on the road, he’d immediately change to another road. That day I learned that when obstacles appear on the road, it doesn’t mean there is no road. Rather, it means you have to take a different road! Right now!! I had only seen such daredevil biking in Hollywood action movies. Looking at my hair in the bike’s mirror, it seemed as if it had stood up straight after an electric shock! My face was covered with dust from the city. In the fierce wind, my tie was flying behind me in the air. I don’t know if anyone has ever seen a bike race so recklessly through Dhaka’s roads during rush hour. But for some reason, I truly wasn’t afraid at all. I kept thinking over and over, “How quickly can one reach IBA!” Romel bhai had finished his honors and master’s from Dhaka College before joining the bank. I had asked him, “What’s your designation at the bank?” He had joked, “Not much, just 14 more promotions and I’ll be able to sit in Zohra Madam’s chair. Hahaha…….”

When I arrived in front of IBA, my watch showed 5:52. As I got down, I saw my younger brother Pappu and his friend Arefin standing there. At that time, I had my gift shop ‘Dobhana.’ Pappu and Arefin were my working partners. They often came to Dhaka from Chawk Bazaar in Old Dhaka to buy wholesale goods for the shop. I had withdrawn myself from the shop to focus on my BCS exam preparation. They ran everything. They were already in Dhaka on shop business. I had told them to go to the IBA MBA program office and keep me updated by phone about the viva board situation. Through repeated conversations with them, I was checking whether the interview board was still there, asking them to go to the program office and explain that I couldn’t arrive on time due to flight delays, terrible traffic jams, and so on. As soon as I got down, they informed me, “Bhaiya, the board left 4-5 minutes ago. Now only the Executive MBA viva remains.” After introducing them to Romel bhai, I rushed up to the MBA program office on the second floor. As soon as they saw me, everyone there stopped their work and looked at me. I saw Rahi Sir busy with something; he didn’t respond to my greeting. “Sir, I’m very late. Despite trying hard, I couldn’t arrive on time. I…” Without giving me a chance to say anything more, he shouted, “You Idiot! Get out!” “Sir, I…” “I said, Get out! Out! Out!! I knew very well that you wouldn’t be able to come on time. Is it possible to take one exam in Chittagong and then come to Dhaka for another exam? That easy? You’ve just wasted my time! I had told everyone that a boy from Chittagong would come at 5:15, and we needed to take his viva. Did you think I am a joker?” “Sir, I came here with great difficulty. The flight was delayed, there was heavy traffic on the road. I really…” “It’s none of my business! Get out! Go back where you came from.” “Sir, I had many dreams of studying at IBA.” “Everyone on the street has such dreams. I gave you a chance but you missed it. That’s all! Get out of here.” “Sir, please have some mercy…” (I felt like falling at his feet and crying…) Right beside him sat a gentle-looking gentleman much younger than the sir. He said, “Sir, I’ve heard about him. His younger brother kept coming to our program office. They had been standing in front of the office for hours. His flight was indeed delayed. And there’s heavy traffic in Dhaka today too. A friend of mine came to my room from the airport a while ago; it took him a long time to get here too. Give him a chance, Sir. He’s come so far, taking such risks with great difficulty! He apparently has another written exam tomorrow too. The poor fellow has to return to Chittagong today itself.” “Son, you junior faculty members don’t even know what you’re saying, what kind of requests you make. Why are you pleading for him? Is he your relative or something?” “No no Sir, I’m seeing him for the first time today. Just look at his face once, Sir. He’s really come here with great difficulty. Please do him a favor, Sir.” “You have no idea what you are talking about! Will the Executive MBA viva be the same as theirs? They have 3 years of job experience, while these are just children in comparison!

“This won’t be possible, brother. I am sorry!” “Sir, please help the poor fellow a bit. He’s come such a long way with so much hope!” “Son, we can’t manage anything more for you!” I stood a little distance away, head bowed. Looking at me, he called out loudly, “Hey, stupid! Why are you standing there like a donkey? Go on, go to the third floor! Go and stand there absolutely quietly. We’ll call you.” I truly couldn’t understand whether such a beautiful moment had ever come anywhere in this world before! Tears began streaming down my face. I prayed again and again from my heart for Babu sir. Rahi sir seemed like a father figure to me. I kept remembering mother’s words: “Never get angry at teachers’ scolding. When teachers scold, it means blessings.” Overwhelmed with emotion, as I was about to leave after thanking and saluting the teachers, Rahi sir called from behind, “Hey crazy boy! Comb your hair before entering the board! Wash your face at the basin! Don’t be so scared! Hahaha…” I couldn’t say anything more. I kept staring blankly at sir’s face. My cheeks were wet with tears from both eyes. Babu sir placed his hand on my shoulder and said, “Go on, go upstairs and wait. We are not that much bad people as you thought us to be. Sometimes even the IBA faculties are too good! Freshen up, give your interview properly, now there’s no tension anymore. What’s your exam tomorrow?” “Sir, Mathematical Reasoning and Mental Ability.” “How will you go?” “Sir, I have a return plane ticket.” “Good! Brother, splash some water on your eyes and face to fix your appearance. Give your viva quickly and rush to the airport! Good luck!” At that moment I felt like touching sir’s feet in salute. People get frightened by sudden intense love. For the first time, it suddenly struck me: “What if I can’t honor this love of my teachers? What if I don’t get a chance at IBA in the end?”

When we find ourselves in trouble, if our intentions are pure, a way out always emerges! I went to the washroom on the third floor and tried my best to “make myself presentable” by wetting my hair and smoothing it down. After splashing water on my face, I went and waited in front of the notice board. I was called after 10 minutes. It was nearly seven o’clock. When I entered the room, I saw many faculty members seated there. I hadn’t known that so many would be present for an interview. I thought this was perhaps how IBA interviews were conducted. I later learned that this entire panel had been assembled just for me. Apart from Babu Sir and Rahi Sir, I didn’t recognize anyone else. After getting admitted, I realized that those present that evening were IBA’s most senior and accomplished faculty members. The board included Saiful Majid Sir, Shama-e-Zahir Sir, Mamun Sir, Munir Khosru Sir, Niaz Sir, and Saif Noman Khan Sir. Most of the junior faculty had finished their interviews and gone home, while some senior faculty were in their offices conducting Executive MBA interviews. Some of them had been specially called in. I was in the interview for about 18-20 minutes. Many of the faculty members knew about my situation that day. I had heard of something called “divine possession” in life. At certain special moments, due to particular external influences or circumstances, people suddenly gain extraordinary power. In those moments, they step outside their normal state and display different behavior. They can harness the utmost potential of their inner infinite strength. In that wondrous balanced fusion of emotion and capability, the best version of themselves emerges. From the moment I entered the interview room, I had very likely become a different person, or perhaps the very best ‘me’ from within had emerged that day. By what divine signal this happened, I don’t know. No hesitation, doubt, nervousness, fear, the day’s exhaustion, or lethargy was affecting me at all. I felt incredibly composed and light as a feather. It felt as though whatever I was saying or doing was the best possible. I was experiencing the finest moment of my life right then and there. I can say with complete honesty that the style in which I spoke English that day—I have never in my entire life, even to this day, been able to speak English so flawlessly and fluently. That day the faculty members engaged in various kinds of humor during the interview. They were having great fun with me. Most likely, the faculty wanted to “shake me up” somehow. I don’t know why, by whose indication I don’t know, but I kept answering all their questions one by one with a very cool head and a smile that day. They interviewed me in English on various diverse topics, starting from describing the entire day’s events and the preceding Facebook incidents to many other subjects. (Of course, at IBA there’s absolutely no opportunity to give interviews in Bengali.) Why I wanted to pursue an MBA, why IBA if I was going to take government job exams anyway, my weaknesses, whether I’d ever been in love, how I spend my leisure time, some conversation about reading books, various economic issues of Bangladesh, some personal and family matters, my future plans, the breathless motorcycle journey from A to Z, the BCS examination system, why I went into engineering despite having no interest, why I delayed my honors degree, why I didn’t study properly, why my CGPA was so low, what I like to eat, what kind of personality I prefer in people, what I know about IBA, some current affairs, and several other questions. I was answering very quickly in correct English. The faculty praised this too. I gave a very simple, straightforward, and candid interview. I didn’t speak a single false word that day.

I didn’t need to think before speaking—whatever came to mind, I simply said, so there was no chance to fabricate lies. At the end, they asked me to sing a song. When I said, “I can’t, Sir,” Babu Sir showed me my info-form and laughed, saying, “But you’ve claimed so.” I had written Reading, Writing, Singing in the hobbies section… At that moment, it felt like I was living the best day of my life. I sang, “Aaj ei dintake…” “I see, we’re getting a singer for our cultural program!” As Saiful Majid Sir was saying this, Babu Sir interjected, “Sir, he has another exam tomorrow. He’ll probably be flying back to Chittagong tonight.” Then three or four teachers exclaimed in unison, “What! He’s going back to Chittagong right now? Well then, run along, run along! Go downstairs and see if your superman biker is there! Hahahaha…” As I was leaving with my salaam, the teachers called out, “Best of luck for your tomorrow’s exam.” I kept thinking, again and again—I’ll make it, I’ll make it! (Even after giving the BCS viva, I didn’t feel this good.)

When I stepped out of IBA, it was half past seven on the clock. I knew there was no way I could catch the 7:45 flight. I also knew that I had no idea how I would get to Chittagong that night. I didn’t even feel like thinking about it. Only the exhilarating rush of having given a good exam was coursing through me. Pappu and Arefin had been waiting for me at Madhu’s canteen. Taking them along, I went to the front of Dhaka University’s Central Library and leisurely began eating vegetable pakoras and tea. Many of my students studied in various departments at Dhaka University. Quite a few came to see me. They were asking what questions had been asked in the interview. After a day of incredible experiences, my head had become almost entirely empty. I couldn’t understand why I wasn’t feeling the slightest urgency to return to Chittagong. Pappu asked, “Brother, will you take the night bus?” I said, “Yes, that could work.” (It amuses me now to think how casually I had said ‘that could work’!) The road conditions weren’t good then either, there were always traffic jams. It didn’t even occur to me—what would happen if I couldn’t reach by 10 AM tomorrow? Ripon, a dear younger brother who lived in Chittagong and was one of my former students, said, “Brother, I have a non-AC train ticket; for Turna Nishitha, leaving tonight. It doesn’t matter if I don’t go to Chittagong today. Brother, you take it.” “Alright, fine,” I said, took the ticket, and set off toward Kamalapur Station. That night the train left nearly an hour and a half late. I didn’t even want to think about what was going to happen! I had already surrendered myself to fate long before. In my mind I kept repeating only this: whatever will be, will be. Whether I want it or not, it will happen. And whatever is happening is surely for the good; whatever will happen will surely be for the good too. Let’s see! After the day’s exhaustion, I had a very peaceful sleep. Suddenly I woke up hearing commotion around me. The train had stopped at Comilla. Apparently there was some problem with the line. We were delayed there for nearly two and a quarter hours. I couldn’t understand why I wasn’t feeling any kind of anxiety! I fell asleep again. Sleep is the world’s only faithful lover. Whenever I want it, I find it near. Never, under any circumstances, does it abandon me. There can be no purer love than the love for sleep.

When the train reached Chittagong railway station the next day, it was a quarter to ten in the morning. My exam was scheduled to start at ten. It takes only fifteen minutes to get from the station to my house. When I got home, I found my mother sitting there with everything ready in her hands—my pencil box, board, scale, pen, calculator, admit card, registration card, all of it. My parents had been terribly anxious at home. I hadn’t been able to speak to them since after half past one at night. My mobile had run out of charge. (I was using a cheap Nokia 1100 mobile set back then. Everyone called it the “national set”! It was so sturdy that many would joke, “Dude, you could crack jackfruit with that phone!” I’d tease my friends who used expensive mobiles, saying, “My phone’s model is ‘N Eleven Zero Zero’!”) As soon as my mother saw me, she said, “Dear, how are you? Will you take today’s exam?” I felt emotionally numb. It seemed as though I was lighter than a feather at that moment, floating around in some kind of trance! I smiled and said, “Ma, I’m perfectly fine. I’ll take the exam.” Saying this, I took the packed shopping bag from my mother’s hands and left the house just as I was. It was 10:05 on the clock. From our house to the exam center, it takes at least thirty minutes by CNG during office hours. When I reached the college gate, it was 10:43. That day was the mathematical reasoning and mental ability test. The first two hours were mathematical reasoning, followed by one hour of mental ability. The exam had already started forty-three minutes earlier. Naturally, the police wouldn’t let me enter. I pleaded extensively, kept trying futilely to explain what had happened, but they weren’t willing to listen to anything. But I had made up my mind—I wasn’t going to turn back, I would get inside no matter what. A small commotion started gathering there. Seeing the crowd, the magistrate came over. After hearing my entire story, he said, “You only have one hour left. Can you finish all the math problems in this time?” Without a moment’s hesitation, I said, “I can, sir!” “Alright, go ahead. Good luck!” My heart overflowed with gratitude toward him. At that moment, he seemed to me not human, but divine! I went in, looked at the questions, took the exam. I even showed three problems to the person sitting next to me. (He got a job in Audit and Accounts in the 30th batch.) I scored 98 on that day’s exam—50 in math, 48 in mental ability. After that… well, as everyone says—the rest is history!

But this much is true: had that day’s exam been something other than mathematics, I would have been in real trouble. I can handle math because the type of problems that appeared in the BCS written exam back then weren’t particularly difficult for me to solve. Such problems don’t strain the mind much, and the 30th BCS written exam featured relatively easy math. Even if I worked through each step carefully and added side notes, it shouldn’t have taken more than half an hour. It didn’t for me either. However, spending two and a half hours on the International Affairs exam the day before had been risky. Actually, no matter how incredible the whole affair might seem, everything appears to have been predetermined by the Creator or nature itself. What remains inexplicable to our limited understanding is simply a natural, ordinary occurrence for the Creator. All our failures and successes are already decided beforehand. But to reach that point, the effort—or making the right decision at the right time—that we must do ourselves. I wasn’t even supposed to pass my undergraduate degree. Yet it was my destiny to complete my undergraduate studies, become a BCS cadre, study at IBA—all of it was written in my fate. Had my destiny been bound elsewhere, I would have gone there instead. I had enrolled in another master’s program under Dhaka University—MDS. After continuing that course for three months, I left it of my own accord. They had said I would need to officially hide the fact that I was simultaneously pursuing another master’s at IBA. I refused to lie. I harbor no regret about this, though. I’ve accepted that pursuing that particular master’s degree simply wasn’t written in my destiny. This is the truth, this is reality. I had gained admission to Dhaka University’s Evening MBA program in Finance, ranking sixth on the merit list, but never had to attend classes there. I received my IBA admission test results before that. I did complete my master’s in Finance from Dhaka University, but the Evening MBA program wasn’t destined for me, so I didn’t pursue my master’s degree from there.

Stepping into two boats in the middle of a river ensures certain death. Logic dictates this. But I placed my feet in two boats, taking the maximum risk—I had no other choice—yet both boats moved forward in parallel at the same speed at the same time, so I didn’t slip between them and lose my life. What explanation could there be for this? Life doesn’t follow logic; life follows the Creator’s signals. Life doesn’t always operate according to explanations. Sometimes life moves on faith. So there’s nothing to say about anyone’s personal philosophy and the life they live according to their beliefs, as long as that life doesn’t interfere with someone else’s way of living. Somewhere, no explicable form of life can be seen, and life is just like this!

Through sheer mental strength alone, I had believed that some miracle would surely occur. It did happen, because in Providence’s master plan, that’s what was meant to happen. Everything in between was the Creator’s games or plans to test my patience and concentration. You will never be given a gift you don’t deserve. You will be tested, and if you fail to pass that test, you will deprive yourself of the Creator’s grace through your own fault. I’m sharing with you the Facebook status I posted after the IBA admission test results came out, along with a couple of my own comments on it:

Friends, I’ve been finally selected for admission into the MBA Program of IBA, Dhaka University. …… feeling happy. ……. HATS OFF to Sharmeen didi, Ira madam & Romel bhai!!

# My dear friends….. Your gorgeous presence on my wall makes me think twice about the POWER of friendship & the MAGIC of love. YES……… They matter!! I just want to be with you forever. Please never say GOODBYE…. It hurts!! Your kindness and care mean a lot to me. You’ve always given me much more than I really deserve. Please accept my sincere GRATITUDE.

Happy Social Networking!!

Long live Facebook!!

My best wishes for our Friendship!!

……… Love you all ……

# (To one of my close friends) Dost, not reaching the Interview Session on 17 January at 5:30 pm was what I thought to be….. reaching there in time was what was written in my DESTINY….. And, I ended up calling it a MIRACLE, something I never believed in before…… Just have a look at the schedule of 17 January……

International Affairs Exam (BCS written exam)…. 10:00 am — 1:00 pm

The departure time of the GMG Airlines: 3:20 pm, there was a delay of about 1 hour due to fog and I availed another delayed flight of Bangladesh Biman at 4:37 pm.

The plane landed on Dhaka Airport at 5:13 pm and then I started my fight against time to meet the deadline by bike with Romel bhai!! Who managed those three saviours (Sharmeen didi, Ira madam & Romel bhai) for me? I don’t know. You better ask the Heaven! I saw such a breath-taking motor-bike driving only in English movies. Before that day, I had never thought I would experience it!!

Life is sometimes stranger than fiction . . . . Who can tell it better than I?

# (To one of my senior high-profile Indian friends) Thank you Sir for your words of felicitation. IBA of Dhaka University is considered as the most prestigious institute for doing MBA in Bangladesh. As per the rules of that Business School, the Major/Field of Specialization is allowed to be chosen at the final semester judging the academic records & intention of a candidate. I don’t have much idea about what to choose and why to choose. Please share some ideas on it as you’ve huge practical knowledge (so far as I know) about the present corporate trend.

You’ve nicely stated the trend of our careerist B-school graduates. No one really cares about their own aptitude, rather, tries to be what market wants them to be. Personally, I always like the decision-making and mainstream operational sections of giant companies. And, probably I’ll go for finance as my major when I’ve to choose it in my final semester. Yes, my semester results must be well enough to work on my advantage. That’ll be a story of one and a half years later. Till then, I’ll have to undergo the generalized curriculum as my B-school formulates. The recent economic recession worries our friends studying at the US universities. And, almost all of them suggest me not to plan of staying there. But at the same time, they suggest me completing my PhD in the US if I want to and grab that opportunity. Let’s wait and see. . . . . Are you in India now? Hope you’re quite OK along with your busy schedule. Please, sometimes give me your valuable suggestions when you’ve time and you’re here on Facebook. . . . . Thank you once again for your helpful advice. Take care.

In explaining the final part of the status shared above, I had written these words:

Let me share the Story behind the Story and elucidate the last part of my status. It would have been quite impossible for me to reach Dhaka University from Dhaka International Airport within just 50 minutes (!!) to attend the interview session of IBA in time on Jan 17, but for the cordial help of Sharmeen didi (Sharmeen Muiz) & Ira madam (Johora Bebe Ira). They’re the persons who made that miracle happen!! And, Romel bhai (Monirul Alam Romel) is the “Man with the Bike” who dared fight against time to meet the deadline!! ……. I feel honoured to express my heartfelt gratitude to these three saviours. …….. Miracles Happen When You Believe!!

I conclude this piece with a beautifully strange comment Sharmeen didi made on that status: “My prayers, good wishes, and prayers remain with you. Dear brother of mine, may you grow to great heights. And may the successful reflection of our efforts (Ira’s and mine) shine through in everything you do. I was there, I am here, I will be there. …….. Heaps of hugs and love.”

What sustains a human being? We live on love, on prayers, on good wishes. These are what keep me alive—quite well alive, in fact. My gratitude!

P.S. Let me offer you some practical wisdom. Those who think they know too much, who consider themselves supremely intelligent, who speak in grand terms without any real qualifications or notable position, who try to diminish others even through outright lies, who pontificate without knowledge, who speak to you in such a manner that you begin to doubt your own confidence—I would advise you to absolutely, absolutely, and absolutely avoid such people. They themselves cannot go very far in life, nor will they allow you to go very far either.

(Written 2-3 years ago)

I have been meaning to write this piece for at least the past four years. Due to my characteristic laziness, it remained buried among my lost writings all this time. Unable to let it slip away entirely, I have resolved today to begin writing with the firm determination that, no matter how difficult it becomes, I will not leave this chair until it is finished. The trouble with not writing when one should is that the emotion and enthusiasm of that moment are lost, and often the writing fails to come alive. However, there are many exceptions to this. Sanjibchandra Chattopadhyay, the elder brother of Bankimchandra Chattopadhyay, worked for quite some time as a Deputy Magistrate in the exquisitely beautiful, remote forest region of Palamau. Many years later, he wrote ‘Palamau,’ a work born of memory and reflection. For those who have not yet read ‘Palamau,’ I will say just one thing to convey what kind of writing it is: when Bishwa Sahitya Kendra began its publishing work, everyone at the center was perplexed about which among so many masterpieces of world literature should be printed first. It was then that Abdullah Abu Sayeed decided that the first book published by Bishwa Sahitya Kendra would be ‘Palamau.’ But let me return to what I was saying. To discuss why writing intended to be written often never materializes would be to commit great injustice to oneself and others. So I shall not venture into that discussion. However, regarding this particular piece, I will only say this much: when attempting to describe one of life’s most incredible events, my hands tremble with excitement, memories blur, and a fear pervades my entire being—what would today have been like if everything that day had unfolded differently? I keep thinking that today would not have been anything like today. Today I would have been someone else entirely. Everything around me would have seemed like something else altogether. The truth is, life does not unfold the way we imagine it will. Life unfolds as life does. The color of life appears one way in imagination, but the actual color is different. Even if we think we will spend our lives playing with life itself, it does not necessarily follow that life will pass in precisely that manner. What will happen and what will not—all of this is predetermined. Our task is simply to perform brilliantly on this stage in our own way. The more skillful one’s performance, the more intimately one tastes the flavor of life.

The 30th BCS written examination began on January 11, 2011, and concluded on January 23. On the evening of Wednesday the 12th, I checked the IBA website at Dhaka University and discovered that I was among those who had passed the written portion of the MBA program admission test for the 45th batch. The candidates who passed the written exam would be divided into several groups for interviews, and my group was scheduled for Monday, January 17, at 10 AM at IBA. I had taken the BCS examination from Chittagong, where the PSC-designated examination center for Chittagong candidates was Omar Gani MES College. On the day of my IBA interview, the International Affairs exam was also scheduled to begin at 10 AM. Attending an exam at Dhaka University at the same time was simply impossible. I knew that IBA didn’t offer many second chances. Having secured this opportunity, I couldn’t imagine myself foolish or generous enough to let it slip away. Instead of studying for the next day’s Bangladesh Affairs Paper I, I began calling everyone I knew who had studied at IBA or was familiar with it. I still remember the intense excitement of that time. When something you desperately want comes within reach, yet circumstances force you to let it go—staying calm in such a moment is nearly impossible. Everyone I spoke with on the phone said the same thing: “You can’t have two good things at once. You’ll have to give up one of them. If you try to keep a foot in both boats, you’ll end up with neither. Besides, you can take the BCS exam again, and you can also take the IBA admission test again. Let go of one.” Those who valued the corporate sector highly told me to abandon BCS. Those who valued the civil service told me to pursue IBA later. No one could suggest a way to manage both. At that moment, neither option seemed bigger or smaller to me—my mind had gone completely blank, and I felt as though life was playing a game of Snakes and Ladders with me. The dice might roll such a number that I’d end up in the belly of a snake—but then again, it might not. Sometimes the number that comes up sends you climbing a ladder high above. Life’s Snakes and Ladders board doesn’t contain only snakes—there are ladders too! Who’s to say this throw won’t land on a ladder? Life is indeed like Snakes and Ladders, where the highest number isn’t necessarily the best. Perhaps I’d roll two sixes and then a five—totaling seventeen, the highest possible—yet still end up sliding down a long snake. But equally possible: rolling the smallest number, just one, and finding myself climbing rapidly up a ladder to great heights. Understanding the game of less is the most difficult thing of all! The highest number isn’t always the best. You must see how much is actually needed. Great income, great torment—what need is there for such a large sum? Knowing how to choose the right number for your life is a great art indeed!

I thought, why should I surrender before I’ve even lost? I’ll see this through to the end. At home, my parents were also saying, “Give up one of them.” My heart was telling me, “I won’t give up, not for anything!” Let me gamble with life this once and see what happens! You have to listen to your heart. I called the MBA Program Office. Zakir bhai was in charge there. He said, “IBA’s schedule doesn’t change for anyone. You change your schedule.” I said, “That’s not possible. You have several slots. BCS has only one.” Even after that he said, “It’s not possible in any way. We’re sorry!” Saying this, he hung up the phone, and my stubbornness only grew stronger. I put aside studying for the next day’s exam. After some inquiries, I learned that Rahi Sir was the Program Chairman for IBA’s MBA at the time. Only he could change my interview slot if he wanted to. Rahi Sir is an incredibly fierce person. IBA’s Marketing Department is the best in Bangladesh. Rahi Sir is the best faculty in that department. I got his number. The person I got the number from asked, “Are you really going to call Rahi Sir?” “Yes. Why?” “We students never dare to call Sir. And you’re going to call him for this?” “I will. I have to. My back is against the wall.” “God bless you, man! You better think twice.” I said, “Sometimes life doesn’t give you the opportunity to think twice. It’s the first and the only chance! I must grab it before it’s too late! I will call him. I’ll make my attempt—if it works, it works; if not, so be it. If I don’t try, it definitely won’t work. Thank you, bhai!” Right after finishing that conversation, without any second thoughts, I called Rahi Sir. A man with an extremely serious voice. It’s frightening just to speak with him. But I have nothing left to lose. I only know this: I passed IBA’s written exam and IBA has to conduct my interview. I had truly become reckless. I blurted out my entire problem in one breath. Rahi Sir said, “You silly kid! You’ve dared to call Rahi Sir for this! Did you think I am your friend? It’s not my business whether you can attend the viva board or not. You have only 2 choices: Leave IBA, or, Leave BCS.” To my infinite amazement, I heard myself saying, “Sir, I have called you to hear about the third choice. If you don’t have that, please make it for me. I know I’ll be at IBA.” Sir said very loudly over the phone, “You are a stupid little boy. You just know nothing about the things here! Don’t waste my time. I am busy!” “Sir, please give me a chance. I am………” I couldn’t make him hear any more—he hung up before that. I couldn’t understand what had happened, only felt an even stronger desire to believe that I would definitely study at IBA. BCS seemed to fade for a moment. Whatever happens in tomorrow’s exam will happen. Right now I need to sort out the IBA situation first. I called the program office again.

I asked, “When can I actually meet Rahi sir?” “What do you mean?” “Sir told me to come see him.” “Ask sir himself when you can actually meet him.” (I mustered the courage to lie….) “Sir said to call the program office and find out.” “He told you to ask us? Really! Alright, stay on the line, let me check sir’s class schedule.” Zakir bhai informed me that if I came next Friday evening, I could meet sir. Saying “thank you very much,” I hung up the phone and immediately left home to buy a bus ticket. From near Gariullah Shah’s shrine in Chittagong, I bought a ticket on Unique’s non-AC bus to Dhaka for Thursday night. The next day, under tremendous mental pressure, I took my Bangladesh Studies Paper 1 exam. Even in the exam hall, my mind kept racing: “Will Rahi sir keep his word?” In my answer sheet, I mistakenly wrote the word “Rahi” several times, though I crossed it out later.

I arrived at IBA before afternoon on Friday. I stood waiting in front of the MBA Program Office. Zakir bhai wasn’t there at the time—he came in the evening, two hours later. I went up and introduced myself. “Oh, I see, you’ve come from Chittagong. Rahi sir mentioned he would speak with you about changing your interview schedule? Really??” “Yes, he told me to come see him!” We were talking when Rahi sir arrived shortly after. He went straight through the program office into his room. A dignified man of serious disposition. His office was right next to the program office. Zakir bhai said, “Please sit on the sofa. Let me ask sir if he’s free right now.” When he told sir, “Someone named Sushanta Pal has come from Chittagong to see you—you had asked him to come,” sir immediately shouted quite loudly, “I didn’t ask anyone to come see me! Tell him to leave. Disgusting!” Zakir bhai told me, “Sir won’t see you. You should go.” “I’ll leave, but only after meeting with sir. Brother, I haven’t come here to turn back. I must see him.” Almost forcefully, I entered sir’s room without permission. After I said very politely, “Assalamu alaikum, sir,” he returned the greeting and said, “What do you want?” There were several other students in the room who had come to sir for various matters. “Sir, I called you the day before yesterday evening.” “Is it my duty to remember your call? Get out!” I said nothing and stood there with my head bowed. The words “Get out!” didn’t register in my mind. At that moment, I only knew that I would speak with Rahi sir about changing the schedule, and sir would surely agree to do so. After standing like this for nearly half an hour, sir said, “Why are you standing here like a statue?” I fearfully placed an application about changing the time slot on sir’s desk and began to say, “Sir, the day before yesterday I spoke with you on the phone…” “Speak in the language I am using now.” “Sir, my interview has been scheduled for next Monday at 10 in the morning. I am appearing for the 30th BCS written exam. I have an exam at the same time. So, I request you to shift my schedule to another convenient time slot.” “Sorry, we cannot.” “Please Sir! Otherwise, my dream to be here will be shattered.” “Let it be. Just go for BCS. You will do better being a civil servant.” “But Sir, it’s uncertain.” “Is being here certain for you?” “No Sir, that’s why I cannot leave any of these 2 opportunities. Please Sir, give me a chance. Do me a favour. I will be ever grateful, Sir.” “What time is your exam?” “10 o’clock, sir.” “How long?” “Three hours, sir.” “Okay fine, come straight here after your exam. Can you make it by 1:30?” I realized sir had forgotten that I’d come from Chittagong. “Sir, I’m taking the exam from Chittagong.” “Stupid! We cannot change our schedule for you! Are you Mr President?” “No Sir, I just want to be your student! I will do anything you tell me to do. Please give me a chance, Sir!” “Look, brother, you won’t be able to finish your exam at 1 o’clock and come from Chittagong to take the interview anyway.

You won’t make it even if you leave at 10 PM. The roads are in terrible condition, there’s heavy traffic.” “Sir, I can come in the evening.” “How? By plane?” “Yes, sir. Please give me a chance, sir.” “Alright. Don’t you have an exam the next day?” “I do, sir. I can manage. I’ll buy a return ticket.” “What time can you arrive?” “Whatever you say, sir.” “Your exam will end at 1 PM. Hmm… okay, can you make it to the 3 o’clock board?” “Yes sir, I can be there at 3.” “Do you know if there are flights at that time?” “I don’t know, sir. I’ll find out.” “I think there’s a flight around 3.” “What time can you arrive?” “4 o’clock, sir?” “Foolish boy! Your brain isn’t working. How can you take a 3 o’clock flight from Chittagong and get from the airport to IBA by 4? You have no idea about Dhaka city. Okay, you come by 5:15 sharp. You will be last person in that board. If you come after that, nothing can be done. The evening board is for Executive MBA. It won’t be possible to hold your viva there. Okay?” “Thank you, sir.” “Youngman, you have decided to play with your life! Best of luck!” “Please pray for me, sir. I can do this!” Tears came to my eyes. I realized that though this man appeared stern on the outside, he was very gentle within. I offered many prayers for the sir and left IBA. I went to Aziz and bought some books. Then I went to Fakirapul and took the 10 PM non-AC bus from Unique, reaching Chittagong in the morning.

I’m sharing the application with you:

15 January 2011

The Program Director, MBA Program

Institute of Business Administration

University of Dhaka

Dhaka

Subject: Prayer for changing the time slot of the interview schedule of the MBA Program Admission

Sir,

This letter expresses my earnest request to change my interview schedule of the MBA Program Admission 2010-2011. I am a candidate for Full-Time Course, my admit number is 2745 and I am on Interview Board 6 scheduled to be conducted at the 10:00 am to 1:00 pm time slot on January 17, 2011. I am appearing at the 30th BCS written examination and my Examination Centre is at Chittagong. I have an examination on January 17, 2011, coincided with the same time slot of the interview and so it is not possible for me to come from Chittagong and attend the interview at 10:00 am.

I will be highly obliged if you kindly permit me to attend the interview at the 6:00 pm to 8:30 pm time slot scheduled for Evening Board 3 and Evening Board 4 on January 17, 2011.

Yours faithfully

Sushanta Paul

I had never been on a plane before. I thought that wherever you go, you need a passport to fly. My elder brother called a friend who works with passport services and asked what documents are needed for an emergency passport to Dhaka. He burst out laughing! He said, “Buddy, what do you need a passport for? A plane and a bus are the same thing. One flies in the sky, the other runs on the road. That’s all there is to it! Just go buy a ticket. That’s it! Which one is good? You can go with GMG. That’s pretty good.” I didn’t know that you don’t have to rush to the airport to buy a plane ticket. I had no idea how much tickets cost. Getting off the bus in the morning, I went straight to a Dutch-Bangla Bank booth and withdrew ten thousand taka. Then I jumped into a CNG and rushed to the airport. I bought a ticket from the GMG Airlines counter for the 3:20 flight on Monday, the 17th. That was the first Chittagong-Dhaka flight of the afternoon. I booked a return ticket for the same day on the 7:45 evening flight. I felt like I could see it right before my eyes—me attending classes at IBA! Such a strange vision! I returned home with a victorious smile, almost as if I had already gotten into IBA! At night, I tried to prepare from various guides and the internet about what they might ask in the IBA interview. I studied for about 4-5 hours. At the same time, I posted a status on Facebook: How much time does it take to reach Dhaka University from Dhaka International Airport? Is it possible to reach in 40 minutes? Friends, any suggestion, please? I was truly a very simple person back then. I saw the world in very simple terms. Since I hadn’t visited Dhaka much, I didn’t know that in 2011 it wasn’t possible to get from the airport to Shahbag in 40 minutes. Everyone was saying it would take a minimum of two hours to get from the airport to the university campus in the afternoon. All sorts of bizarre comments came in reply to my status. Many started making fun of me. I’ll share some of my friends’ suggestions: “It’s possible if you run.” “It would be great if you jogged to the university. You’d get your evening exercise too!” “You shouldn’t have bought that plane ticket! With that money, if you had thrown us a party, we all would have prayed together and your BCS would have worked out! Hahahaha…..” “Young man! You’re young, just run as soon as you get off the plane! You’ll see, you’ll reach before time!” “Listen, such-and-such bus runs on such-and-such route. Hanging and sleeping, you’ll reach IBA just fine!” I got many such absurd comments. I knew absolutely nothing about Dhaka then. When you’re in trouble, doesn’t everyone have to give you a kick? It began to feel like that’s just how life is! People can’t extend a hand to pull you up, but they can certainly extend a foot to kick you down! Without getting the least bit discouraged by anyone’s words, I kept waiting to see if someone would give some good advice. I didn’t react to anyone’s reply that day. How helplessly calm a person becomes when in trouble. All I knew was this: “I’m giving my IBA interview on the 17th.” One person wrote, “You can go by bike. There’s no faster way to reach the university campus.” Some people even supported that idea. A few mentioned taxi cabs. Support was strongest for the bike option. Up until then, I had ridden a bike maybe 2-3 times in my entire life, counting generously. I didn’t really know anyone in Dhaka who had a bike, or if I did know someone, my mind wasn’t working at all then. Sometimes I think now, alas!

I couldn’t even afford to manage a bike at that time. I wrote, “My flight is scheduled to land at Dhaka Airport at 4.10 pm on 17 January. I must reach Dhaka University at or before 5.15 pm. I’ve an interview at IBA at that time. . . . Can’t I do it? Is it not possible? I need to do it at any cost. As I don’t know about the routes of Dhaka City, I’m asking for your help. Dhaka City is an unknown city to me. Can a taxi cab help me reach there in 1 hour? I can’t be late, otherwise I’ll miss the interview schedule. I’ve managed that schedule today through an application. . . Can a bike be a better solution? Or, something else? I’m in great trouble. . . .” After posting this, the mocking and laughter began all over again. I replied to the distinguished gentleman (one of Bangladesh’s most successful businessmen) who had advised me to jog there: “Thank you Sir for you ‘jogging’ suggestion. I was also seriously thinking of this option. Yes, I’ll surely manage to reach in time by vehicles, on foot, again by vehicles, again on foot . . . . And, I’ll go. I’ll be there in time by any means.” Someone said, “Change the schedule once more.” I wrote, “The schedule can’t be changed! Hopefully, there will happen some miracle and I’ll manage to avail the schedule in time.” A younger brother wrote, “Brother, you should go by taxi-cab. But you could try the bus once. Dhaka buses run quite well!” I replied, “Brother, I’m not surely making any attempt of getting on a bus! That’ll be horrible, you know. I was just seeking for a suggestion as I don’t know about the route. Thanks for the suggestion. I think a CNG powered taxi can help me in this regard. A taxi-cab is prone to getting stuck up in the congestion forever. A bike could be a better solution. But, I can’t manage it.”

Mrs. Zohra, whose name was Ira—an extremely distinguished lady—commented, “You need a bike?” “That would be wonderful.” “Alright, let me see what I can do.” She was the Deputy Managing Director of ONE Bank. After completing her studies in Chemistry from Chittagong University, she had done her MBA from IBA. She worked in the corporate sector, but there were very few people who didn’t know her. I have a sister. Her name is Sharmin Muiz Khan. At that time, she was one of those rare souls who loved someone as insignificant as me far more than necessary, showered me with affection for no particular reason. She was almost my mother’s age, but I addressed her as ‘tumi’ and she called me ‘tui’. She had studied English Literature at Dhaka University. She particularly loved my writing. She was a business magnate and had connections with many prominent people. I have rarely seen a lady as distinguished, refined, elegant, and utterly graceful as her. She commented, “Bappi, someone needs to grab you and give you a good thrashing. Are you enjoying confusing everyone by calling them all the time? Please stop wasting your time browsing Facebook and concentrate on tomorrow’s exam. Otherwise, you’re calling for another disaster. There is a saying: ‘Que sera, sera’ meaning: Whatever will be, will be. So, pray and try your best. I have given this opinion after a lot of serious thoughts. Please follow it. You will leave here right now. I don’t want to see you making even one more comment! MIRACLES HAPPEN IF YOU BELIEVE IN YOURSELF!” I replied, “Didi, things are that they’re. Things will be that they will be. And, between this two there lie some miracles that we’re never aware of. And, miracles are often stranger than facts. Facts are because they’re. Miracles are because we or someone else wants them to be. That’s the truth!” She called Mrs. Zohra. She said, “Look Ira, my brother has gotten into a bit of trouble. The poor thing is a simple soul, we should do something for him. Can’t you arrange a bike for him?” A little while later, I saw a message from Mrs. Zohra in my inbox: “Please give me your contact number. Regards” I gave it immediately. The call came within seconds. After introducing herself, she said, “You need a bike Monday at 4 PM, right?” “That would be wonderful.” “OK, a bike will be there for you at 4. My colleague Romel will pick you. Alright?” “I am truly, truly grateful. Thank you so very much!” “Let’s get the work done first, then you can thank me. I’m texting you Romel’s number. Take care.” She hung up immediately. I wrote to her: “Life is stranger than fiction, I repeat. From myself, I’ve got much less than I truly deserve. From others, I’ve got much more than I truly deserve. Is it the thing that they call miracle? I don’t know and never try to know. I let miracles happen and thankfully they always happen . . . . . . . Thank you for your generous approach. This really means a lot to me.” I wrote my piece. I don’t know if she ever read it or had the time to read it. Noble souls don’t wait for thanks. Besides, she was truly, truly busy.

He was the head of the credit section at One Bank. He had no reason to know a nobody like me, yet he knew me through my writing. Otherwise, I would never have had the privilege of speaking with him directly. And the fact that Sharmin didi had spoken to him about me—that was a big deal too. The next day was the Bangladesh Affairs Paper 2 exam. I went to sleep without studying any of it. The day after, straight from the exam hall, I went to the Westex showroom at Probortak intersection. My life’s first interview. I was incredibly excited! I had decided I’d go to the interview board wearing everything brand new. I bought a formal white shirt, black pants, black tie, black belt, black socks, white undershirt, and brown shoes. Later, from Gallery Apex I bought formal Oxford shoes, and from Time Zone a Titan wristwatch, then returned home in the evening. Seeing my antics, Ma was laughing. “Ma, why are you laughing?” “Just because, dear.” The funny thing was, Ma went with me to the exam hall every single day. She always kept me close, just like a child. Ma said, “Tomorrow I’m going to the airport with you.” And she did go—despite my protests.

Monday, the 17th. International Affairs exam. I couldn’t stay in the exam hall for the entire time due to nerves. I don’t have a car, what if the CNG takes too long to reach the airport! What if I miss the flight! The flight was at 3:20. And it takes at least 2 hours to reach the airport from Omar Gani MES College by 1 PM. Our written exam had been during winter. In the bitter cold, my fingers would freeze. Still, I kept rubbing my palms together to warm them, blowing hot breath into the hollow of my cupped hands, and wrote with all my strength. Instead of 1 o’clock, I finished the exam at 12:30, submitted my paper, and rushed out. When I emerged from the hall and reached the gate, everyone thought I must have been expelled! The intense stress was clearly written all over my face. Many showed me sympathy, told me not to worry, advised me to do better in the next BCS. I didn’t have time to respond. What could I say anyway—at that moment, life itself was one giant question mark for me! I don’t know what strength possessed my mother. She ran almost twice as fast as me, covering the distance from the college campus to the road. We got into a CNG without bargaining, paying nearly one and a half times the normal fare. I told the driver, “However you manage it, get us to the airport within two hours. If necessary, I’ll pay you extra.” It was 12:50 on the clock. The CNG started speeding. Mother opened the tiffin box and fed me khichuri, meat, and fried egg. One thought kept spinning in my head: “Will I catch the plane? If we get stuck in traffic, it’s all over!” I took off my sweater. I had left home that morning wearing my viva outfit, everything except the tie. After escaping two minor traffic jams, when we reached the airport, it was 5 minutes to 3. As soon as I got down, I touched my mother’s and aunt’s feet in respect (a distant aunt had come with us since mother couldn’t return home from the airport alone) and ran to the counter. There I learned that the flight was delayed by an hour due to dense fog. I thought, if the plane leaves at that time, there’s no way I can reach IBA by 5:15. I informed the counter staff about this. They said there was nothing they could do; they were very sorry. I inquired and learned that no other flights were departing at that time either. At that moment, I felt utterly helpless, just wanting to cry. I felt like I had no one, no one at all! I kept going from counter to counter. I found out there was a Bangladesh Biman flight departing at 3:45. There was no other flight before that. It was a bigger plane, taking 30 minutes to reach, whereas other planes take at least 40 minutes. Meaning, I would reach Dhaka airport by 4:15! I bought the ticket right then. There was great hope in my heart—if this one leaves on time, there’s nothing more to worry about. I went to the airport restroom and quickly put on my tie. I adjusted my shirt once more. Looking in the mirror, I fixed my hair with my hand. The clock hand crossed 4 after passing 3:45. The plane was delayed due to fog. We all boarded the plane at 4:15. It was my first time on a plane. I kept thinking, when will it take off, when will it take off! Every second felt like an hour! The tension was making it hard to breathe, yet the plane wouldn’t take off. I thought, oh! If only I could spend all my strength to make this plane soar into the sky! I pressed my handkerchief over my eyes to hide my tears. Finally, the plane took off. It was 4:37 on the clock. I was thinking, oh!

The plane could have taken off directly without taxiing! At least a couple of minutes would have been saved! The plane landed on Dhaka’s runway at 5:13.

I burst out of the domestic terminal running with all my might, and gasping for breath, I saw a motorcycle come to a stop right in front of me. “You’re Sushanta, right? Get on the back!” I extended my hand to shake hands with the young man in the black helmet. He didn’t raise his black-gloved right fist for a handshake. “Time’s wasting, brother! Please get on! Quick!” I didn’t argue further. “You’re not used to riding bikes, are you?” “Yes. How did you know?” “Brother, I’ve been riding bikes for the past 18-20 years. I can tell.” “I see.” “Lean forward and press your chest firmly against my back! You can even wrap your arms around me, otherwise you’ll get thrown off. For sure! I’m going to ride fast.” The way that bike tore out of the airport—I don’t have the courage to even think about it today. Under normal circumstances, I might have screamed in fear and told him to stop, or I really would have been thrown off. But at that moment I knew that being afraid was important, but far more important was reaching IBA alive. I don’t know if the wheels of that 150cc bike actually touched the ground that day, but for the second time in my life I understood this truth: you cannot frighten someone who stakes their life to touch their dreams. I had only seen bikes racing so recklessly on the roads in movies. The bike was literally cutting through the whooshing sound of wind, as if flying through the air! “Say brother, are you somebody really important?” “What do you mean?” “Well, Madam told me that one of her very important friends had to be delivered from the airport to IBA within half an hour, no matter what. That was her order! Who are you, brother? Hahahaha………” “I’m Madam’s Facebook friend.” “What are you saying, man? How’s that possible! I was thinking even more… you mean you’ve never even met her?” “No, brother. Why?” (There’s a railway crossing ahead. The barrier is coming down.) “Brother, duck your head a little.” Saying this, he quickly rode the bike under the barrier without obeying the signal. Many people behind us were shouting for us to stop. “Brother, just don’t be afraid. Nothing will happen. You can close your eyes if you want.” Right at that moment, while quickly emerging from between two trucks standing side by side, he said, “Sit a bit smaller, brother!” A little further ahead—massive traffic jam at a signal! Romel bhai lifted the bike onto the sidewalk. “Brother, please give way a little, give way a little,” he kept saying as he raced forward. He had to do this several times. Sometimes when riding on the central divider in the middle of the road, traffic police would catch us, and he’d say in a tearful voice, “Sir, my aunt is fighting for her life in the medical college. I’m going to donate blood. O-negative blood—we can’t find any. If I don’t reach on time, we won’t be able to save my aunt, sir!” He’d manage the police with this story and then race off at the same speed again! Whenever there was a traffic jam on the road, he’d immediately change to another road. That day I learned that when obstacles appear on the road, it doesn’t mean there is no road. Rather, it means you have to take a different road! Right now!! I had only seen such daredevil biking in Hollywood action movies. Looking at my hair in the bike’s mirror, it seemed as if it had stood up straight after an electric shock! My face was covered with dust from the city. In the fierce wind, my tie was flying behind me in the air. I don’t know if anyone has ever seen a bike race so recklessly through Dhaka’s roads during rush hour. But for some reason, I truly wasn’t afraid at all. I kept thinking over and over, “How quickly can one reach IBA!” Romel bhai had finished his honors and master’s from Dhaka College before joining the bank. I had asked him, “What’s your designation at the bank?” He had joked, “Not much, just 14 more promotions and I’ll be able to sit in Zohra Madam’s chair. Hahaha…….”

When I arrived in front of IBA, my watch showed 5:52. As I got down, I saw my younger brother Pappu and his friend Arefin standing there. At that time, I had my gift shop ‘Dobhana.’ Pappu and Arefin were my working partners. They often came to Dhaka from Chawk Bazaar in Old Dhaka to buy wholesale goods for the shop. I had withdrawn myself from the shop to focus on my BCS exam preparation. They ran everything. They were already in Dhaka on shop business. I had told them to go to the IBA MBA program office and keep me updated by phone about the viva board situation. Through repeated conversations with them, I was checking whether the interview board was still there, asking them to go to the program office and explain that I couldn’t arrive on time due to flight delays, terrible traffic jams, and so on. As soon as I got down, they informed me, “Bhaiya, the board left 4-5 minutes ago. Now only the Executive MBA viva remains.” After introducing them to Romel bhai, I rushed up to the MBA program office on the second floor. As soon as they saw me, everyone there stopped their work and looked at me. I saw Rahi Sir busy with something; he didn’t respond to my greeting. “Sir, I’m very late. Despite trying hard, I couldn’t arrive on time. I…” Without giving me a chance to say anything more, he shouted, “You Idiot! Get out!” “Sir, I…” “I said, Get out! Out! Out!! I knew very well that you wouldn’t be able to come on time. Is it possible to take one exam in Chittagong and then come to Dhaka for another exam? That easy? You’ve just wasted my time! I had told everyone that a boy from Chittagong would come at 5:15, and we needed to take his viva. Did you think I am a joker?” “Sir, I came here with great difficulty. The flight was delayed, there was heavy traffic on the road. I really…” “It’s none of my business! Get out! Go back where you came from.” “Sir, I had many dreams of studying at IBA.” “Everyone on the street has such dreams. I gave you a chance but you missed it. That’s all! Get out of here.” “Sir, please have some mercy…” (I felt like falling at his feet and crying…) Right beside him sat a gentle-looking gentleman much younger than the sir. He said, “Sir, I’ve heard about him. His younger brother kept coming to our program office. They had been standing in front of the office for hours. His flight was indeed delayed. And there’s heavy traffic in Dhaka today too. A friend of mine came to my room from the airport a while ago; it took him a long time to get here too. Give him a chance, Sir. He’s come so far, taking such risks with great difficulty! He apparently has another written exam tomorrow too. The poor fellow has to return to Chittagong today itself.” “Son, you junior faculty members don’t even know what you’re saying, what kind of requests you make. Why are you pleading for him? Is he your relative or something?” “No no Sir, I’m seeing him for the first time today. Just look at his face once, Sir. He’s really come here with great difficulty. Please do him a favor, Sir.” “You have no idea what you are talking about! Will the Executive MBA viva be the same as theirs? They have 3 years of job experience, while these are just children in comparison!

“This won’t be possible, brother. I am sorry!” “Sir, please help the poor fellow a bit. He’s come such a long way with so much hope!” “Son, we can’t manage anything more for you!” I stood a little distance away, head bowed. Looking at me, he called out loudly, “Hey, stupid! Why are you standing there like a donkey? Go on, go to the third floor! Go and stand there absolutely quietly. We’ll call you.” I truly couldn’t understand whether such a beautiful moment had ever come anywhere in this world before! Tears began streaming down my face. I prayed again and again from my heart for Babu sir. Rahi sir seemed like a father figure to me. I kept remembering mother’s words: “Never get angry at teachers’ scolding. When teachers scold, it means blessings.” Overwhelmed with emotion, as I was about to leave after thanking and saluting the teachers, Rahi sir called from behind, “Hey crazy boy! Comb your hair before entering the board! Wash your face at the basin! Don’t be so scared! Hahaha…” I couldn’t say anything more. I kept staring blankly at sir’s face. My cheeks were wet with tears from both eyes. Babu sir placed his hand on my shoulder and said, “Go on, go upstairs and wait. We are not that much bad people as you thought us to be. Sometimes even the IBA faculties are too good! Freshen up, give your interview properly, now there’s no tension anymore. What’s your exam tomorrow?” “Sir, Mathematical Reasoning and Mental Ability.” “How will you go?” “Sir, I have a return plane ticket.” “Good! Brother, splash some water on your eyes and face to fix your appearance. Give your viva quickly and rush to the airport! Good luck!” At that moment I felt like touching sir’s feet in salute. People get frightened by sudden intense love. For the first time, it suddenly struck me: “What if I can’t honor this love of my teachers? What if I don’t get a chance at IBA in the end?”

When we find ourselves in trouble, if our intentions are pure, a way out always emerges! I went to the washroom on the third floor and tried my best to “make myself presentable” by wetting my hair and smoothing it down. After splashing water on my face, I went and waited in front of the notice board. I was called after 10 minutes. It was nearly seven o’clock. When I entered the room, I saw many faculty members seated there. I hadn’t known that so many would be present for an interview. I thought this was perhaps how IBA interviews were conducted. I later learned that this entire panel had been assembled just for me. Apart from Babu Sir and Rahi Sir, I didn’t recognize anyone else. After getting admitted, I realized that those present that evening were IBA’s most senior and accomplished faculty members. The board included Saiful Majid Sir, Shama-e-Zahir Sir, Mamun Sir, Munir Khosru Sir, Niaz Sir, and Saif Noman Khan Sir. Most of the junior faculty had finished their interviews and gone home, while some senior faculty were in their offices conducting Executive MBA interviews. Some of them had been specially called in. I was in the interview for about 18-20 minutes. Many of the faculty members knew about my situation that day. I had heard of something called “divine possession” in life. At certain special moments, due to particular external influences or circumstances, people suddenly gain extraordinary power. In those moments, they step outside their normal state and display different behavior. They can harness the utmost potential of their inner infinite strength. In that wondrous balanced fusion of emotion and capability, the best version of themselves emerges. From the moment I entered the interview room, I had very likely become a different person, or perhaps the very best ‘me’ from within had emerged that day. By what divine signal this happened, I don’t know. No hesitation, doubt, nervousness, fear, the day’s exhaustion, or lethargy was affecting me at all. I felt incredibly composed and light as a feather. It felt as though whatever I was saying or doing was the best possible. I was experiencing the finest moment of my life right then and there. I can say with complete honesty that the style in which I spoke English that day—I have never in my entire life, even to this day, been able to speak English so flawlessly and fluently. That day the faculty members engaged in various kinds of humor during the interview. They were having great fun with me. Most likely, the faculty wanted to “shake me up” somehow. I don’t know why, by whose indication I don’t know, but I kept answering all their questions one by one with a very cool head and a smile that day. They interviewed me in English on various diverse topics, starting from describing the entire day’s events and the preceding Facebook incidents to many other subjects. (Of course, at IBA there’s absolutely no opportunity to give interviews in Bengali.) Why I wanted to pursue an MBA, why IBA if I was going to take government job exams anyway, my weaknesses, whether I’d ever been in love, how I spend my leisure time, some conversation about reading books, various economic issues of Bangladesh, some personal and family matters, my future plans, the breathless motorcycle journey from A to Z, the BCS examination system, why I went into engineering despite having no interest, why I delayed my honors degree, why I didn’t study properly, why my CGPA was so low, what I like to eat, what kind of personality I prefer in people, what I know about IBA, some current affairs, and several other questions. I was answering very quickly in correct English. The faculty praised this too. I gave a very simple, straightforward, and candid interview. I didn’t speak a single false word that day.

I didn’t need to think before speaking—whatever came to mind, I simply said, so there was no chance to fabricate lies. At the end, they asked me to sing a song. When I said, “I can’t, Sir,” Babu Sir showed me my info-form and laughed, saying, “But you’ve claimed so.” I had written Reading, Writing, Singing in the hobbies section… At that moment, it felt like I was living the best day of my life. I sang, “Aaj ei dintake…” “I see, we’re getting a singer for our cultural program!” As Saiful Majid Sir was saying this, Babu Sir interjected, “Sir, he has another exam tomorrow. He’ll probably be flying back to Chittagong tonight.” Then three or four teachers exclaimed in unison, “What! He’s going back to Chittagong right now? Well then, run along, run along! Go downstairs and see if your superman biker is there! Hahahaha…” As I was leaving with my salaam, the teachers called out, “Best of luck for your tomorrow’s exam.” I kept thinking, again and again—I’ll make it, I’ll make it! (Even after giving the BCS viva, I didn’t feel this good.)

When I stepped out of IBA, it was half past seven on the clock. I knew there was no way I could catch the 7:45 flight. I also knew that I had no idea how I would get to Chittagong that night. I didn’t even feel like thinking about it. Only the exhilarating rush of having given a good exam was coursing through me. Pappu and Arefin had been waiting for me at Madhu’s canteen. Taking them along, I went to the front of Dhaka University’s Central Library and leisurely began eating vegetable pakoras and tea. Many of my students studied in various departments at Dhaka University. Quite a few came to see me. They were asking what questions had been asked in the interview. After a day of incredible experiences, my head had become almost entirely empty. I couldn’t understand why I wasn’t feeling the slightest urgency to return to Chittagong. Pappu asked, “Brother, will you take the night bus?” I said, “Yes, that could work.” (It amuses me now to think how casually I had said ‘that could work’!) The road conditions weren’t good then either, there were always traffic jams. It didn’t even occur to me—what would happen if I couldn’t reach by 10 AM tomorrow? Ripon, a dear younger brother who lived in Chittagong and was one of my former students, said, “Brother, I have a non-AC train ticket; for Turna Nishitha, leaving tonight. It doesn’t matter if I don’t go to Chittagong today. Brother, you take it.” “Alright, fine,” I said, took the ticket, and set off toward Kamalapur Station. That night the train left nearly an hour and a half late. I didn’t even want to think about what was going to happen! I had already surrendered myself to fate long before. In my mind I kept repeating only this: whatever will be, will be. Whether I want it or not, it will happen. And whatever is happening is surely for the good; whatever will happen will surely be for the good too. Let’s see! After the day’s exhaustion, I had a very peaceful sleep. Suddenly I woke up hearing commotion around me. The train had stopped at Comilla. Apparently there was some problem with the line. We were delayed there for nearly two and a quarter hours. I couldn’t understand why I wasn’t feeling any kind of anxiety! I fell asleep again. Sleep is the world’s only faithful lover. Whenever I want it, I find it near. Never, under any circumstances, does it abandon me. There can be no purer love than the love for sleep.

When the train reached Chittagong railway station the next day, it was a quarter to ten in the morning. My exam was scheduled to start at ten. It takes only fifteen minutes to get from the station to my house. When I got home, I found my mother sitting there with everything ready in her hands—my pencil box, board, scale, pen, calculator, admit card, registration card, all of it. My parents had been terribly anxious at home. I hadn’t been able to speak to them since after half past one at night. My mobile had run out of charge. (I was using a cheap Nokia 1100 mobile set back then. Everyone called it the “national set”! It was so sturdy that many would joke, “Dude, you could crack jackfruit with that phone!” I’d tease my friends who used expensive mobiles, saying, “My phone’s model is ‘N Eleven Zero Zero’!”) As soon as my mother saw me, she said, “Dear, how are you? Will you take today’s exam?” I felt emotionally numb. It seemed as though I was lighter than a feather at that moment, floating around in some kind of trance! I smiled and said, “Ma, I’m perfectly fine. I’ll take the exam.” Saying this, I took the packed shopping bag from my mother’s hands and left the house just as I was. It was 10:05 on the clock. From our house to the exam center, it takes at least thirty minutes by CNG during office hours. When I reached the college gate, it was 10:43. That day was the mathematical reasoning and mental ability test. The first two hours were mathematical reasoning, followed by one hour of mental ability. The exam had already started forty-three minutes earlier. Naturally, the police wouldn’t let me enter. I pleaded extensively, kept trying futilely to explain what had happened, but they weren’t willing to listen to anything. But I had made up my mind—I wasn’t going to turn back, I would get inside no matter what. A small commotion started gathering there. Seeing the crowd, the magistrate came over. After hearing my entire story, he said, “You only have one hour left. Can you finish all the math problems in this time?” Without a moment’s hesitation, I said, “I can, sir!” “Alright, go ahead. Good luck!” My heart overflowed with gratitude toward him. At that moment, he seemed to me not human, but divine! I went in, looked at the questions, took the exam. I even showed three problems to the person sitting next to me. (He got a job in Audit and Accounts in the 30th batch.) I scored 98 on that day’s exam—50 in math, 48 in mental ability. After that… well, as everyone says—the rest is history!

But this much is true: had that day’s exam been something other than mathematics, I would have been in real trouble. I can handle math because the type of problems that appeared in the BCS written exam back then weren’t particularly difficult for me to solve. Such problems don’t strain the mind much, and the 30th BCS written exam featured relatively easy math. Even if I worked through each step carefully and added side notes, it shouldn’t have taken more than half an hour. It didn’t for me either. However, spending two and a half hours on the International Affairs exam the day before had been risky. Actually, no matter how incredible the whole affair might seem, everything appears to have been predetermined by the Creator or nature itself. What remains inexplicable to our limited understanding is simply a natural, ordinary occurrence for the Creator. All our failures and successes are already decided beforehand. But to reach that point, the effort—or making the right decision at the right time—that we must do ourselves. I wasn’t even supposed to pass my undergraduate degree. Yet it was my destiny to complete my undergraduate studies, become a BCS cadre, study at IBA—all of it was written in my fate. Had my destiny been bound elsewhere, I would have gone there instead. I had enrolled in another master’s program under Dhaka University—MDS. After continuing that course for three months, I left it of my own accord. They had said I would need to officially hide the fact that I was simultaneously pursuing another master’s at IBA. I refused to lie. I harbor no regret about this, though. I’ve accepted that pursuing that particular master’s degree simply wasn’t written in my destiny. This is the truth, this is reality. I had gained admission to Dhaka University’s Evening MBA program in Finance, ranking sixth on the merit list, but never had to attend classes there. I received my IBA admission test results before that. I did complete my master’s in Finance from Dhaka University, but the Evening MBA program wasn’t destined for me, so I didn’t pursue my master’s degree from there.

Stepping into two boats in the middle of a river ensures certain death. Logic dictates this. But I placed my feet in two boats, taking the maximum risk—I had no other choice—yet both boats moved forward in parallel at the same speed at the same time, so I didn’t slip between them and lose my life. What explanation could there be for this? Life doesn’t follow logic; life follows the Creator’s signals. Life doesn’t always operate according to explanations. Sometimes life moves on faith. So there’s nothing to say about anyone’s personal philosophy and the life they live according to their beliefs, as long as that life doesn’t interfere with someone else’s way of living. Somewhere, no explicable form of life can be seen, and life is just like this!

Through sheer mental strength alone, I had believed that some miracle would surely occur. It did happen, because in Providence’s master plan, that’s what was meant to happen. Everything in between was the Creator’s games or plans to test my patience and concentration. You will never be given a gift you don’t deserve. You will be tested, and if you fail to pass that test, you will deprive yourself of the Creator’s grace through your own fault. I’m sharing with you the Facebook status I posted after the IBA admission test results came out, along with a couple of my own comments on it:

Friends, I’ve been finally selected for admission into the MBA Program of IBA, Dhaka University. …… feeling happy. ……. HATS OFF to Sharmeen didi, Ira madam & Romel bhai!!

# My dear friends….. Your gorgeous presence on my wall makes me think twice about the POWER of friendship & the MAGIC of love. YES……… They matter!! I just want to be with you forever. Please never say GOODBYE…. It hurts!! Your kindness and care mean a lot to me. You’ve always given me much more than I really deserve. Please accept my sincere GRATITUDE.

Happy Social Networking!!

Long live Facebook!!

My best wishes for our Friendship!!

……… Love you all ……

# (To one of my close friends) Dost, not reaching the Interview Session on 17 January at 5:30 pm was what I thought to be….. reaching there in time was what was written in my DESTINY….. And, I ended up calling it a MIRACLE, something I never believed in before…… Just have a look at the schedule of 17 January……

International Affairs Exam (BCS written exam)…. 10:00 am — 1:00 pm

The departure time of the GMG Airlines: 3:20 pm, there was a delay of about 1 hour due to fog and I availed another delayed flight of Bangladesh Biman at 4:37 pm.

The plane landed on Dhaka Airport at 5:13 pm and then I started my fight against time to meet the deadline by bike with Romel bhai!! Who managed those three saviours (Sharmeen didi, Ira madam & Romel bhai) for me? I don’t know. You better ask the Heaven! I saw such a breath-taking motor-bike driving only in English movies. Before that day, I had never thought I would experience it!!

Life is sometimes stranger than fiction . . . . Who can tell it better than I?

# (To one of my senior high-profile Indian friends) Thank you Sir for your words of felicitation. IBA of Dhaka University is considered as the most prestigious institute for doing MBA in Bangladesh. As per the rules of that Business School, the Major/Field of Specialization is allowed to be chosen at the final semester judging the academic records & intention of a candidate. I don’t have much idea about what to choose and why to choose. Please share some ideas on it as you’ve huge practical knowledge (so far as I know) about the present corporate trend.

You’ve nicely stated the trend of our careerist B-school graduates. No one really cares about their own aptitude, rather, tries to be what market wants them to be. Personally, I always like the decision-making and mainstream operational sections of giant companies. And, probably I’ll go for finance as my major when I’ve to choose it in my final semester. Yes, my semester results must be well enough to work on my advantage. That’ll be a story of one and a half years later. Till then, I’ll have to undergo the generalized curriculum as my B-school formulates. The recent economic recession worries our friends studying at the US universities. And, almost all of them suggest me not to plan of staying there. But at the same time, they suggest me completing my PhD in the US if I want to and grab that opportunity. Let’s wait and see. . . . . Are you in India now? Hope you’re quite OK along with your busy schedule. Please, sometimes give me your valuable suggestions when you’ve time and you’re here on Facebook. . . . . Thank you once again for your helpful advice. Take care.

In explaining the final part of the status shared above, I had written these words:

Let me share the Story behind the Story and elucidate the last part of my status. It would have been quite impossible for me to reach Dhaka University from Dhaka International Airport within just 50 minutes (!!) to attend the interview session of IBA in time on Jan 17, but for the cordial help of Sharmeen didi (Sharmeen Muiz) & Ira madam (Johora Bebe Ira). They’re the persons who made that miracle happen!! And, Romel bhai (Monirul Alam Romel) is the “Man with the Bike” who dared fight against time to meet the deadline!! ……. I feel honoured to express my heartfelt gratitude to these three saviours. …….. Miracles Happen When You Believe!!

I conclude this piece with a beautifully strange comment Sharmeen didi made on that status: “My prayers, good wishes, and prayers remain with you. Dear brother of mine, may you grow to great heights. And may the successful reflection of our efforts (Ira’s and mine) shine through in everything you do. I was there, I am here, I will be there. …….. Heaps of hugs and love.”

What sustains a human being? We live on love, on prayers, on good wishes. These are what keep me alive—quite well alive, in fact. My gratitude!

P.S. Let me offer you some practical wisdom. Those who think they know too much, who consider themselves supremely intelligent, who speak in grand terms without any real qualifications or notable position, who try to diminish others even through outright lies, who pontificate without knowledge, who speak to you in such a manner that you begin to doubt your own confidence—I would advise you to absolutely, absolutely, and absolutely avoid such people. They themselves cannot go very far in life, nor will they allow you to go very far either.

(Written 2-3 years ago)

I had never been on a plane before. I thought that wherever you go, you need a passport to fly. My elder brother called a friend who works with passport services and asked what documents are needed for an emergency passport to Dhaka. He burst out laughing! He said, “Buddy, what do you need a passport for? A plane and a bus are the same thing. One flies in the sky, the other runs on the road. That’s all there is to it! Just go buy a ticket. That’s it! Which one is good? You can go with GMG. That’s pretty good.” I didn’t know that you don’t have to rush to the airport to buy a plane ticket. I had no idea how much tickets cost. Getting off the bus in the morning, I went straight to a Dutch-Bangla Bank booth and withdrew ten thousand taka. Then I jumped into a CNG and rushed to the airport. I bought a ticket from the GMG Airlines counter for the 3:20 flight on Monday, the 17th. That was the first Chittagong-Dhaka flight of the afternoon. I booked a return ticket for the same day on the 7:45 evening flight. I felt like I could see it right before my eyes—me attending classes at IBA! Such a strange vision! I returned home with a victorious smile, almost as if I had already gotten into IBA! At night, I tried to prepare from various guides and the internet about what they might ask in the IBA interview. I studied for about 4-5 hours. At the same time, I posted a status on Facebook: How much time does it take to reach Dhaka University from Dhaka International Airport? Is it possible to reach in 40 minutes? Friends, any suggestion, please? I was truly a very simple person back then. I saw the world in very simple terms. Since I hadn’t visited Dhaka much, I didn’t know that in 2011 it wasn’t possible to get from the airport to Shahbag in 40 minutes. Everyone was saying it would take a minimum of two hours to get from the airport to the university campus in the afternoon. All sorts of bizarre comments came in reply to my status. Many started making fun of me. I’ll share some of my friends’ suggestions: “It’s possible if you run.” “It would be great if you jogged to the university. You’d get your evening exercise too!” “You shouldn’t have bought that plane ticket! With that money, if you had thrown us a party, we all would have prayed together and your BCS would have worked out! Hahahaha…..” “Young man! You’re young, just run as soon as you get off the plane! You’ll see, you’ll reach before time!” “Listen, such-and-such bus runs on such-and-such route. Hanging and sleeping, you’ll reach IBA just fine!” I got many such absurd comments. I knew absolutely nothing about Dhaka then. When you’re in trouble, doesn’t everyone have to give you a kick? It began to feel like that’s just how life is! People can’t extend a hand to pull you up, but they can certainly extend a foot to kick you down! Without getting the least bit discouraged by anyone’s words, I kept waiting to see if someone would give some good advice. I didn’t react to anyone’s reply that day. How helplessly calm a person becomes when in trouble. All I knew was this: “I’m giving my IBA interview on the 17th.” One person wrote, “You can go by bike. There’s no faster way to reach the university campus.” Some people even supported that idea. A few mentioned taxi cabs. Support was strongest for the bike option. Up until then, I had ridden a bike maybe 2-3 times in my entire life, counting generously. I didn’t really know anyone in Dhaka who had a bike, or if I did know someone, my mind wasn’t working at all then. Sometimes I think now, alas!

I couldn’t even afford to manage a bike at that time. I wrote, “My flight is scheduled to land at Dhaka Airport at 4.10 pm on 17 January. I must reach Dhaka University at or before 5.15 pm. I’ve an interview at IBA at that time. . . . Can’t I do it? Is it not possible? I need to do it at any cost. As I don’t know about the routes of Dhaka City, I’m asking for your help. Dhaka City is an unknown city to me. Can a taxi cab help me reach there in 1 hour? I can’t be late, otherwise I’ll miss the interview schedule. I’ve managed that schedule today through an application. . . Can a bike be a better solution? Or, something else? I’m in great trouble. . . .” After posting this, the mocking and laughter began all over again. I replied to the distinguished gentleman (one of Bangladesh’s most successful businessmen) who had advised me to jog there: “Thank you Sir for you ‘jogging’ suggestion. I was also seriously thinking of this option. Yes, I’ll surely manage to reach in time by vehicles, on foot, again by vehicles, again on foot . . . . And, I’ll go. I’ll be there in time by any means.” Someone said, “Change the schedule once more.” I wrote, “The schedule can’t be changed! Hopefully, there will happen some miracle and I’ll manage to avail the schedule in time.” A younger brother wrote, “Brother, you should go by taxi-cab. But you could try the bus once. Dhaka buses run quite well!” I replied, “Brother, I’m not surely making any attempt of getting on a bus! That’ll be horrible, you know. I was just seeking for a suggestion as I don’t know about the route. Thanks for the suggestion. I think a CNG powered taxi can help me in this regard. A taxi-cab is prone to getting stuck up in the congestion forever. A bike could be a better solution. But, I can’t manage it.”

Mrs. Zohra, whose name was Ira—an extremely distinguished lady—commented, “You need a bike?” “That would be wonderful.” “Alright, let me see what I can do.” She was the Deputy Managing Director of ONE Bank. After completing her studies in Chemistry from Chittagong University, she had done her MBA from IBA. She worked in the corporate sector, but there were very few people who didn’t know her. I have a sister. Her name is Sharmin Muiz Khan. At that time, she was one of those rare souls who loved someone as insignificant as me far more than necessary, showered me with affection for no particular reason. She was almost my mother’s age, but I addressed her as ‘tumi’ and she called me ‘tui’. She had studied English Literature at Dhaka University. She particularly loved my writing. She was a business magnate and had connections with many prominent people. I have rarely seen a lady as distinguished, refined, elegant, and utterly graceful as her. She commented, “Bappi, someone needs to grab you and give you a good thrashing. Are you enjoying confusing everyone by calling them all the time? Please stop wasting your time browsing Facebook and concentrate on tomorrow’s exam. Otherwise, you’re calling for another disaster. There is a saying: ‘Que sera, sera’ meaning: Whatever will be, will be. So, pray and try your best. I have given this opinion after a lot of serious thoughts. Please follow it. You will leave here right now. I don’t want to see you making even one more comment! MIRACLES HAPPEN IF YOU BELIEVE IN YOURSELF!” I replied, “Didi, things are that they’re. Things will be that they will be. And, between this two there lie some miracles that we’re never aware of. And, miracles are often stranger than facts. Facts are because they’re. Miracles are because we or someone else wants them to be. That’s the truth!” She called Mrs. Zohra. She said, “Look Ira, my brother has gotten into a bit of trouble. The poor thing is a simple soul, we should do something for him. Can’t you arrange a bike for him?” A little while later, I saw a message from Mrs. Zohra in my inbox: “Please give me your contact number. Regards” I gave it immediately. The call came within seconds. After introducing herself, she said, “You need a bike Monday at 4 PM, right?” “That would be wonderful.” “OK, a bike will be there for you at 4. My colleague Romel will pick you. Alright?” “I am truly, truly grateful. Thank you so very much!” “Let’s get the work done first, then you can thank me. I’m texting you Romel’s number. Take care.” She hung up immediately. I wrote to her: “Life is stranger than fiction, I repeat. From myself, I’ve got much less than I truly deserve. From others, I’ve got much more than I truly deserve. Is it the thing that they call miracle? I don’t know and never try to know. I let miracles happen and thankfully they always happen . . . . . . . Thank you for your generous approach. This really means a lot to me.” I wrote my piece. I don’t know if she ever read it or had the time to read it. Noble souls don’t wait for thanks. Besides, she was truly, truly busy.

He was the head of the credit section at One Bank. He had no reason to know a nobody like me, yet he knew me through my writing. Otherwise, I would never have had the privilege of speaking with him directly. And the fact that Sharmin didi had spoken to him about me—that was a big deal too. The next day was the Bangladesh Affairs Paper 2 exam. I went to sleep without studying any of it. The day after, straight from the exam hall, I went to the Westex showroom at Probortak intersection. My life’s first interview. I was incredibly excited! I had decided I’d go to the interview board wearing everything brand new. I bought a formal white shirt, black pants, black tie, black belt, black socks, white undershirt, and brown shoes. Later, from Gallery Apex I bought formal Oxford shoes, and from Time Zone a Titan wristwatch, then returned home in the evening. Seeing my antics, Ma was laughing. “Ma, why are you laughing?” “Just because, dear.” The funny thing was, Ma went with me to the exam hall every single day. She always kept me close, just like a child. Ma said, “Tomorrow I’m going to the airport with you.” And she did go—despite my protests.

Monday, the 17th. International Affairs exam. I couldn’t stay in the exam hall for the entire time due to nerves. I don’t have a car, what if the CNG takes too long to reach the airport! What if I miss the flight! The flight was at 3:20. And it takes at least 2 hours to reach the airport from Omar Gani MES College by 1 PM. Our written exam had been during winter. In the bitter cold, my fingers would freeze. Still, I kept rubbing my palms together to warm them, blowing hot breath into the hollow of my cupped hands, and wrote with all my strength. Instead of 1 o’clock, I finished the exam at 12:30, submitted my paper, and rushed out. When I emerged from the hall and reached the gate, everyone thought I must have been expelled! The intense stress was clearly written all over my face. Many showed me sympathy, told me not to worry, advised me to do better in the next BCS. I didn’t have time to respond. What could I say anyway—at that moment, life itself was one giant question mark for me! I don’t know what strength possessed my mother. She ran almost twice as fast as me, covering the distance from the college campus to the road. We got into a CNG without bargaining, paying nearly one and a half times the normal fare. I told the driver, “However you manage it, get us to the airport within two hours. If necessary, I’ll pay you extra.” It was 12:50 on the clock. The CNG started speeding. Mother opened the tiffin box and fed me khichuri, meat, and fried egg. One thought kept spinning in my head: “Will I catch the plane? If we get stuck in traffic, it’s all over!” I took off my sweater. I had left home that morning wearing my viva outfit, everything except the tie. After escaping two minor traffic jams, when we reached the airport, it was 5 minutes to 3. As soon as I got down, I touched my mother’s and aunt’s feet in respect (a distant aunt had come with us since mother couldn’t return home from the airport alone) and ran to the counter. There I learned that the flight was delayed by an hour due to dense fog. I thought, if the plane leaves at that time, there’s no way I can reach IBA by 5:15. I informed the counter staff about this. They said there was nothing they could do; they were very sorry. I inquired and learned that no other flights were departing at that time either. At that moment, I felt utterly helpless, just wanting to cry. I felt like I had no one, no one at all! I kept going from counter to counter. I found out there was a Bangladesh Biman flight departing at 3:45. There was no other flight before that. It was a bigger plane, taking 30 minutes to reach, whereas other planes take at least 40 minutes. Meaning, I would reach Dhaka airport by 4:15! I bought the ticket right then. There was great hope in my heart—if this one leaves on time, there’s nothing more to worry about. I went to the airport restroom and quickly put on my tie. I adjusted my shirt once more. Looking in the mirror, I fixed my hair with my hand. The clock hand crossed 4 after passing 3:45. The plane was delayed due to fog. We all boarded the plane at 4:15. It was my first time on a plane. I kept thinking, when will it take off, when will it take off! Every second felt like an hour! The tension was making it hard to breathe, yet the plane wouldn’t take off. I thought, oh! If only I could spend all my strength to make this plane soar into the sky! I pressed my handkerchief over my eyes to hide my tears. Finally, the plane took off. It was 4:37 on the clock. I was thinking, oh!

The plane could have taken off directly without taxiing! At least a couple of minutes would have been saved! The plane landed on Dhaka’s runway at 5:13.

I burst out of the domestic terminal running with all my might, and gasping for breath, I saw a motorcycle come to a stop right in front of me. “You’re Sushanta, right? Get on the back!” I extended my hand to shake hands with the young man in the black helmet. He didn’t raise his black-gloved right fist for a handshake. “Time’s wasting, brother! Please get on! Quick!” I didn’t argue further. “You’re not used to riding bikes, are you?” “Yes. How did you know?” “Brother, I’ve been riding bikes for the past 18-20 years. I can tell.” “I see.” “Lean forward and press your chest firmly against my back! You can even wrap your arms around me, otherwise you’ll get thrown off. For sure! I’m going to ride fast.” The way that bike tore out of the airport—I don’t have the courage to even think about it today. Under normal circumstances, I might have screamed in fear and told him to stop, or I really would have been thrown off. But at that moment I knew that being afraid was important, but far more important was reaching IBA alive. I don’t know if the wheels of that 150cc bike actually touched the ground that day, but for the second time in my life I understood this truth: you cannot frighten someone who stakes their life to touch their dreams. I had only seen bikes racing so recklessly on the roads in movies. The bike was literally cutting through the whooshing sound of wind, as if flying through the air! “Say brother, are you somebody really important?” “What do you mean?” “Well, Madam told me that one of her very important friends had to be delivered from the airport to IBA within half an hour, no matter what. That was her order! Who are you, brother? Hahahaha………” “I’m Madam’s Facebook friend.” “What are you saying, man? How’s that possible! I was thinking even more… you mean you’ve never even met her?” “No, brother. Why?” (There’s a railway crossing ahead. The barrier is coming down.) “Brother, duck your head a little.” Saying this, he quickly rode the bike under the barrier without obeying the signal. Many people behind us were shouting for us to stop. “Brother, just don’t be afraid. Nothing will happen. You can close your eyes if you want.” Right at that moment, while quickly emerging from between two trucks standing side by side, he said, “Sit a bit smaller, brother!” A little further ahead—massive traffic jam at a signal! Romel bhai lifted the bike onto the sidewalk. “Brother, please give way a little, give way a little,” he kept saying as he raced forward. He had to do this several times. Sometimes when riding on the central divider in the middle of the road, traffic police would catch us, and he’d say in a tearful voice, “Sir, my aunt is fighting for her life in the medical college. I’m going to donate blood. O-negative blood—we can’t find any. If I don’t reach on time, we won’t be able to save my aunt, sir!” He’d manage the police with this story and then race off at the same speed again! Whenever there was a traffic jam on the road, he’d immediately change to another road. That day I learned that when obstacles appear on the road, it doesn’t mean there is no road. Rather, it means you have to take a different road! Right now!! I had only seen such daredevil biking in Hollywood action movies. Looking at my hair in the bike’s mirror, it seemed as if it had stood up straight after an electric shock! My face was covered with dust from the city. In the fierce wind, my tie was flying behind me in the air. I don’t know if anyone has ever seen a bike race so recklessly through Dhaka’s roads during rush hour. But for some reason, I truly wasn’t afraid at all. I kept thinking over and over, “How quickly can one reach IBA!” Romel bhai had finished his honors and master’s from Dhaka College before joining the bank. I had asked him, “What’s your designation at the bank?” He had joked, “Not much, just 14 more promotions and I’ll be able to sit in Zohra Madam’s chair. Hahaha…….”

When I arrived in front of IBA, my watch showed 5:52. As I got down, I saw my younger brother Pappu and his friend Arefin standing there. At that time, I had my gift shop ‘Dobhana.’ Pappu and Arefin were my working partners. They often came to Dhaka from Chawk Bazaar in Old Dhaka to buy wholesale goods for the shop. I had withdrawn myself from the shop to focus on my BCS exam preparation. They ran everything. They were already in Dhaka on shop business. I had told them to go to the IBA MBA program office and keep me updated by phone about the viva board situation. Through repeated conversations with them, I was checking whether the interview board was still there, asking them to go to the program office and explain that I couldn’t arrive on time due to flight delays, terrible traffic jams, and so on. As soon as I got down, they informed me, “Bhaiya, the board left 4-5 minutes ago. Now only the Executive MBA viva remains.” After introducing them to Romel bhai, I rushed up to the MBA program office on the second floor. As soon as they saw me, everyone there stopped their work and looked at me. I saw Rahi Sir busy with something; he didn’t respond to my greeting. “Sir, I’m very late. Despite trying hard, I couldn’t arrive on time. I…” Without giving me a chance to say anything more, he shouted, “You Idiot! Get out!” “Sir, I…” “I said, Get out! Out! Out!! I knew very well that you wouldn’t be able to come on time. Is it possible to take one exam in Chittagong and then come to Dhaka for another exam? That easy? You’ve just wasted my time! I had told everyone that a boy from Chittagong would come at 5:15, and we needed to take his viva. Did you think I am a joker?” “Sir, I came here with great difficulty. The flight was delayed, there was heavy traffic on the road. I really…” “It’s none of my business! Get out! Go back where you came from.” “Sir, I had many dreams of studying at IBA.” “Everyone on the street has such dreams. I gave you a chance but you missed it. That’s all! Get out of here.” “Sir, please have some mercy…” (I felt like falling at his feet and crying…) Right beside him sat a gentle-looking gentleman much younger than the sir. He said, “Sir, I’ve heard about him. His younger brother kept coming to our program office. They had been standing in front of the office for hours. His flight was indeed delayed. And there’s heavy traffic in Dhaka today too. A friend of mine came to my room from the airport a while ago; it took him a long time to get here too. Give him a chance, Sir. He’s come so far, taking such risks with great difficulty! He apparently has another written exam tomorrow too. The poor fellow has to return to Chittagong today itself.” “Son, you junior faculty members don’t even know what you’re saying, what kind of requests you make. Why are you pleading for him? Is he your relative or something?” “No no Sir, I’m seeing him for the first time today. Just look at his face once, Sir. He’s really come here with great difficulty. Please do him a favor, Sir.” “You have no idea what you are talking about! Will the Executive MBA viva be the same as theirs? They have 3 years of job experience, while these are just children in comparison!

“This won’t be possible, brother. I am sorry!” “Sir, please help the poor fellow a bit. He’s come such a long way with so much hope!” “Son, we can’t manage anything more for you!” I stood a little distance away, head bowed. Looking at me, he called out loudly, “Hey, stupid! Why are you standing there like a donkey? Go on, go to the third floor! Go and stand there absolutely quietly. We’ll call you.” I truly couldn’t understand whether such a beautiful moment had ever come anywhere in this world before! Tears began streaming down my face. I prayed again and again from my heart for Babu sir. Rahi sir seemed like a father figure to me. I kept remembering mother’s words: “Never get angry at teachers’ scolding. When teachers scold, it means blessings.” Overwhelmed with emotion, as I was about to leave after thanking and saluting the teachers, Rahi sir called from behind, “Hey crazy boy! Comb your hair before entering the board! Wash your face at the basin! Don’t be so scared! Hahaha…” I couldn’t say anything more. I kept staring blankly at sir’s face. My cheeks were wet with tears from both eyes. Babu sir placed his hand on my shoulder and said, “Go on, go upstairs and wait. We are not that much bad people as you thought us to be. Sometimes even the IBA faculties are too good! Freshen up, give your interview properly, now there’s no tension anymore. What’s your exam tomorrow?” “Sir, Mathematical Reasoning and Mental Ability.” “How will you go?” “Sir, I have a return plane ticket.” “Good! Brother, splash some water on your eyes and face to fix your appearance. Give your viva quickly and rush to the airport! Good luck!” At that moment I felt like touching sir’s feet in salute. People get frightened by sudden intense love. For the first time, it suddenly struck me: “What if I can’t honor this love of my teachers? What if I don’t get a chance at IBA in the end?”

When we find ourselves in trouble, if our intentions are pure, a way out always emerges! I went to the washroom on the third floor and tried my best to “make myself presentable” by wetting my hair and smoothing it down. After splashing water on my face, I went and waited in front of the notice board. I was called after 10 minutes. It was nearly seven o’clock. When I entered the room, I saw many faculty members seated there. I hadn’t known that so many would be present for an interview. I thought this was perhaps how IBA interviews were conducted. I later learned that this entire panel had been assembled just for me. Apart from Babu Sir and Rahi Sir, I didn’t recognize anyone else. After getting admitted, I realized that those present that evening were IBA’s most senior and accomplished faculty members. The board included Saiful Majid Sir, Shama-e-Zahir Sir, Mamun Sir, Munir Khosru Sir, Niaz Sir, and Saif Noman Khan Sir. Most of the junior faculty had finished their interviews and gone home, while some senior faculty were in their offices conducting Executive MBA interviews. Some of them had been specially called in. I was in the interview for about 18-20 minutes. Many of the faculty members knew about my situation that day. I had heard of something called “divine possession” in life. At certain special moments, due to particular external influences or circumstances, people suddenly gain extraordinary power. In those moments, they step outside their normal state and display different behavior. They can harness the utmost potential of their inner infinite strength. In that wondrous balanced fusion of emotion and capability, the best version of themselves emerges. From the moment I entered the interview room, I had very likely become a different person, or perhaps the very best ‘me’ from within had emerged that day. By what divine signal this happened, I don’t know. No hesitation, doubt, nervousness, fear, the day’s exhaustion, or lethargy was affecting me at all. I felt incredibly composed and light as a feather. It felt as though whatever I was saying or doing was the best possible. I was experiencing the finest moment of my life right then and there. I can say with complete honesty that the style in which I spoke English that day—I have never in my entire life, even to this day, been able to speak English so flawlessly and fluently. That day the faculty members engaged in various kinds of humor during the interview. They were having great fun with me. Most likely, the faculty wanted to “shake me up” somehow. I don’t know why, by whose indication I don’t know, but I kept answering all their questions one by one with a very cool head and a smile that day. They interviewed me in English on various diverse topics, starting from describing the entire day’s events and the preceding Facebook incidents to many other subjects. (Of course, at IBA there’s absolutely no opportunity to give interviews in Bengali.) Why I wanted to pursue an MBA, why IBA if I was going to take government job exams anyway, my weaknesses, whether I’d ever been in love, how I spend my leisure time, some conversation about reading books, various economic issues of Bangladesh, some personal and family matters, my future plans, the breathless motorcycle journey from A to Z, the BCS examination system, why I went into engineering despite having no interest, why I delayed my honors degree, why I didn’t study properly, why my CGPA was so low, what I like to eat, what kind of personality I prefer in people, what I know about IBA, some current affairs, and several other questions. I was answering very quickly in correct English. The faculty praised this too. I gave a very simple, straightforward, and candid interview. I didn’t speak a single false word that day.

I didn’t need to think before speaking—whatever came to mind, I simply said, so there was no chance to fabricate lies. At the end, they asked me to sing a song. When I said, “I can’t, Sir,” Babu Sir showed me my info-form and laughed, saying, “But you’ve claimed so.” I had written Reading, Writing, Singing in the hobbies section… At that moment, it felt like I was living the best day of my life. I sang, “Aaj ei dintake…” “I see, we’re getting a singer for our cultural program!” As Saiful Majid Sir was saying this, Babu Sir interjected, “Sir, he has another exam tomorrow. He’ll probably be flying back to Chittagong tonight.” Then three or four teachers exclaimed in unison, “What! He’s going back to Chittagong right now? Well then, run along, run along! Go downstairs and see if your superman biker is there! Hahahaha…” As I was leaving with my salaam, the teachers called out, “Best of luck for your tomorrow’s exam.” I kept thinking, again and again—I’ll make it, I’ll make it! (Even after giving the BCS viva, I didn’t feel this good.)

When I stepped out of IBA, it was half past seven on the clock. I knew there was no way I could catch the 7:45 flight. I also knew that I had no idea how I would get to Chittagong that night. I didn’t even feel like thinking about it. Only the exhilarating rush of having given a good exam was coursing through me. Pappu and Arefin had been waiting for me at Madhu’s canteen. Taking them along, I went to the front of Dhaka University’s Central Library and leisurely began eating vegetable pakoras and tea. Many of my students studied in various departments at Dhaka University. Quite a few came to see me. They were asking what questions had been asked in the interview. After a day of incredible experiences, my head had become almost entirely empty. I couldn’t understand why I wasn’t feeling the slightest urgency to return to Chittagong. Pappu asked, “Brother, will you take the night bus?” I said, “Yes, that could work.” (It amuses me now to think how casually I had said ‘that could work’!) The road conditions weren’t good then either, there were always traffic jams. It didn’t even occur to me—what would happen if I couldn’t reach by 10 AM tomorrow? Ripon, a dear younger brother who lived in Chittagong and was one of my former students, said, “Brother, I have a non-AC train ticket; for Turna Nishitha, leaving tonight. It doesn’t matter if I don’t go to Chittagong today. Brother, you take it.” “Alright, fine,” I said, took the ticket, and set off toward Kamalapur Station. That night the train left nearly an hour and a half late. I didn’t even want to think about what was going to happen! I had already surrendered myself to fate long before. In my mind I kept repeating only this: whatever will be, will be. Whether I want it or not, it will happen. And whatever is happening is surely for the good; whatever will happen will surely be for the good too. Let’s see! After the day’s exhaustion, I had a very peaceful sleep. Suddenly I woke up hearing commotion around me. The train had stopped at Comilla. Apparently there was some problem with the line. We were delayed there for nearly two and a quarter hours. I couldn’t understand why I wasn’t feeling any kind of anxiety! I fell asleep again. Sleep is the world’s only faithful lover. Whenever I want it, I find it near. Never, under any circumstances, does it abandon me. There can be no purer love than the love for sleep.

When the train reached Chittagong railway station the next day, it was a quarter to ten in the morning. My exam was scheduled to start at ten. It takes only fifteen minutes to get from the station to my house. When I got home, I found my mother sitting there with everything ready in her hands—my pencil box, board, scale, pen, calculator, admit card, registration card, all of it. My parents had been terribly anxious at home. I hadn’t been able to speak to them since after half past one at night. My mobile had run out of charge. (I was using a cheap Nokia 1100 mobile set back then. Everyone called it the “national set”! It was so sturdy that many would joke, “Dude, you could crack jackfruit with that phone!” I’d tease my friends who used expensive mobiles, saying, “My phone’s model is ‘N Eleven Zero Zero’!”) As soon as my mother saw me, she said, “Dear, how are you? Will you take today’s exam?” I felt emotionally numb. It seemed as though I was lighter than a feather at that moment, floating around in some kind of trance! I smiled and said, “Ma, I’m perfectly fine. I’ll take the exam.” Saying this, I took the packed shopping bag from my mother’s hands and left the house just as I was. It was 10:05 on the clock. From our house to the exam center, it takes at least thirty minutes by CNG during office hours. When I reached the college gate, it was 10:43. That day was the mathematical reasoning and mental ability test. The first two hours were mathematical reasoning, followed by one hour of mental ability. The exam had already started forty-three minutes earlier. Naturally, the police wouldn’t let me enter. I pleaded extensively, kept trying futilely to explain what had happened, but they weren’t willing to listen to anything. But I had made up my mind—I wasn’t going to turn back, I would get inside no matter what. A small commotion started gathering there. Seeing the crowd, the magistrate came over. After hearing my entire story, he said, “You only have one hour left. Can you finish all the math problems in this time?” Without a moment’s hesitation, I said, “I can, sir!” “Alright, go ahead. Good luck!” My heart overflowed with gratitude toward him. At that moment, he seemed to me not human, but divine! I went in, looked at the questions, took the exam. I even showed three problems to the person sitting next to me. (He got a job in Audit and Accounts in the 30th batch.) I scored 98 on that day’s exam—50 in math, 48 in mental ability. After that… well, as everyone says—the rest is history!

But this much is true: had that day’s exam been something other than mathematics, I would have been in real trouble. I can handle math because the type of problems that appeared in the BCS written exam back then weren’t particularly difficult for me to solve. Such problems don’t strain the mind much, and the 30th BCS written exam featured relatively easy math. Even if I worked through each step carefully and added side notes, it shouldn’t have taken more than half an hour. It didn’t for me either. However, spending two and a half hours on the International Affairs exam the day before had been risky. Actually, no matter how incredible the whole affair might seem, everything appears to have been predetermined by the Creator or nature itself. What remains inexplicable to our limited understanding is simply a natural, ordinary occurrence for the Creator. All our failures and successes are already decided beforehand. But to reach that point, the effort—or making the right decision at the right time—that we must do ourselves. I wasn’t even supposed to pass my undergraduate degree. Yet it was my destiny to complete my undergraduate studies, become a BCS cadre, study at IBA—all of it was written in my fate. Had my destiny been bound elsewhere, I would have gone there instead. I had enrolled in another master’s program under Dhaka University—MDS. After continuing that course for three months, I left it of my own accord. They had said I would need to officially hide the fact that I was simultaneously pursuing another master’s at IBA. I refused to lie. I harbor no regret about this, though. I’ve accepted that pursuing that particular master’s degree simply wasn’t written in my destiny. This is the truth, this is reality. I had gained admission to Dhaka University’s Evening MBA program in Finance, ranking sixth on the merit list, but never had to attend classes there. I received my IBA admission test results before that. I did complete my master’s in Finance from Dhaka University, but the Evening MBA program wasn’t destined for me, so I didn’t pursue my master’s degree from there.

Stepping into two boats in the middle of a river ensures certain death. Logic dictates this. But I placed my feet in two boats, taking the maximum risk—I had no other choice—yet both boats moved forward in parallel at the same speed at the same time, so I didn’t slip between them and lose my life. What explanation could there be for this? Life doesn’t follow logic; life follows the Creator’s signals. Life doesn’t always operate according to explanations. Sometimes life moves on faith. So there’s nothing to say about anyone’s personal philosophy and the life they live according to their beliefs, as long as that life doesn’t interfere with someone else’s way of living. Somewhere, no explicable form of life can be seen, and life is just like this!

Through sheer mental strength alone, I had believed that some miracle would surely occur. It did happen, because in Providence’s master plan, that’s what was meant to happen. Everything in between was the Creator’s games or plans to test my patience and concentration. You will never be given a gift you don’t deserve. You will be tested, and if you fail to pass that test, you will deprive yourself of the Creator’s grace through your own fault. I’m sharing with you the Facebook status I posted after the IBA admission test results came out, along with a couple of my own comments on it:

Friends, I’ve been finally selected for admission into the MBA Program of IBA, Dhaka University. …… feeling happy. ……. HATS OFF to Sharmeen didi, Ira madam & Romel bhai!!

# My dear friends….. Your gorgeous presence on my wall makes me think twice about the POWER of friendship & the MAGIC of love. YES……… They matter!! I just want to be with you forever. Please never say GOODBYE…. It hurts!! Your kindness and care mean a lot to me. You’ve always given me much more than I really deserve. Please accept my sincere GRATITUDE.

Happy Social Networking!!

Long live Facebook!!

My best wishes for our Friendship!!

……… Love you all ……

# (To one of my close friends) Dost, not reaching the Interview Session on 17 January at 5:30 pm was what I thought to be….. reaching there in time was what was written in my DESTINY….. And, I ended up calling it a MIRACLE, something I never believed in before…… Just have a look at the schedule of 17 January……

International Affairs Exam (BCS written exam)…. 10:00 am — 1:00 pm

The departure time of the GMG Airlines: 3:20 pm, there was a delay of about 1 hour due to fog and I availed another delayed flight of Bangladesh Biman at 4:37 pm.

The plane landed on Dhaka Airport at 5:13 pm and then I started my fight against time to meet the deadline by bike with Romel bhai!! Who managed those three saviours (Sharmeen didi, Ira madam & Romel bhai) for me? I don’t know. You better ask the Heaven! I saw such a breath-taking motor-bike driving only in English movies. Before that day, I had never thought I would experience it!!

Life is sometimes stranger than fiction . . . . Who can tell it better than I?

# (To one of my senior high-profile Indian friends) Thank you Sir for your words of felicitation. IBA of Dhaka University is considered as the most prestigious institute for doing MBA in Bangladesh. As per the rules of that Business School, the Major/Field of Specialization is allowed to be chosen at the final semester judging the academic records & intention of a candidate. I don’t have much idea about what to choose and why to choose. Please share some ideas on it as you’ve huge practical knowledge (so far as I know) about the present corporate trend.

You’ve nicely stated the trend of our careerist B-school graduates. No one really cares about their own aptitude, rather, tries to be what market wants them to be. Personally, I always like the decision-making and mainstream operational sections of giant companies. And, probably I’ll go for finance as my major when I’ve to choose it in my final semester. Yes, my semester results must be well enough to work on my advantage. That’ll be a story of one and a half years later. Till then, I’ll have to undergo the generalized curriculum as my B-school formulates. The recent economic recession worries our friends studying at the US universities. And, almost all of them suggest me not to plan of staying there. But at the same time, they suggest me completing my PhD in the US if I want to and grab that opportunity. Let’s wait and see. . . . . Are you in India now? Hope you’re quite OK along with your busy schedule. Please, sometimes give me your valuable suggestions when you’ve time and you’re here on Facebook. . . . . Thank you once again for your helpful advice. Take care.

In explaining the final part of the status shared above, I had written these words:

Let me share the Story behind the Story and elucidate the last part of my status. It would have been quite impossible for me to reach Dhaka University from Dhaka International Airport within just 50 minutes (!!) to attend the interview session of IBA in time on Jan 17, but for the cordial help of Sharmeen didi (Sharmeen Muiz) & Ira madam (Johora Bebe Ira). They’re the persons who made that miracle happen!! And, Romel bhai (Monirul Alam Romel) is the “Man with the Bike” who dared fight against time to meet the deadline!! ……. I feel honoured to express my heartfelt gratitude to these three saviours. …….. Miracles Happen When You Believe!!

I conclude this piece with a beautifully strange comment Sharmeen didi made on that status: “My prayers, good wishes, and prayers remain with you. Dear brother of mine, may you grow to great heights. And may the successful reflection of our efforts (Ira’s and mine) shine through in everything you do. I was there, I am here, I will be there. …….. Heaps of hugs and love.”

What sustains a human being? We live on love, on prayers, on good wishes. These are what keep me alive—quite well alive, in fact. My gratitude!

P.S. Let me offer you some practical wisdom. Those who think they know too much, who consider themselves supremely intelligent, who speak in grand terms without any real qualifications or notable position, who try to diminish others even through outright lies, who pontificate without knowledge, who speak to you in such a manner that you begin to doubt your own confidence—I would advise you to absolutely, absolutely, and absolutely avoid such people. They themselves cannot go very far in life, nor will they allow you to go very far either.

(Written 2-3 years ago)

I have been meaning to write this piece for at least the past four years. Due to my characteristic laziness, it remained buried among my lost writings all this time. Unable to let it slip away entirely, I have resolved today to begin writing with the firm determination that, no matter how difficult it becomes, I will not leave this chair until it is finished. The trouble with not writing when one should is that the emotion and enthusiasm of that moment are lost, and often the writing fails to come alive. However, there are many exceptions to this. Sanjibchandra Chattopadhyay, the elder brother of Bankimchandra Chattopadhyay, worked for quite some time as a Deputy Magistrate in the exquisitely beautiful, remote forest region of Palamau. Many years later, he wrote ‘Palamau,’ a work born of memory and reflection. For those who have not yet read ‘Palamau,’ I will say just one thing to convey what kind of writing it is: when Bishwa Sahitya Kendra began its publishing work, everyone at the center was perplexed about which among so many masterpieces of world literature should be printed first. It was then that Abdullah Abu Sayeed decided that the first book published by Bishwa Sahitya Kendra would be ‘Palamau.’ But let me return to what I was saying. To discuss why writing intended to be written often never materializes would be to commit great injustice to oneself and others. So I shall not venture into that discussion. However, regarding this particular piece, I will only say this much: when attempting to describe one of life’s most incredible events, my hands tremble with excitement, memories blur, and a fear pervades my entire being—what would today have been like if everything that day had unfolded differently? I keep thinking that today would not have been anything like today. Today I would have been someone else entirely. Everything around me would have seemed like something else altogether. The truth is, life does not unfold the way we imagine it will. Life unfolds as life does. The color of life appears one way in imagination, but the actual color is different. Even if we think we will spend our lives playing with life itself, it does not necessarily follow that life will pass in precisely that manner. What will happen and what will not—all of this is predetermined. Our task is simply to perform brilliantly on this stage in our own way. The more skillful one’s performance, the more intimately one tastes the flavor of life.

The 30th BCS written examination began on January 11, 2011, and concluded on January 23. On the evening of Wednesday the 12th, I checked the IBA website at Dhaka University and discovered that I was among those who had passed the written portion of the MBA program admission test for the 45th batch. The candidates who passed the written exam would be divided into several groups for interviews, and my group was scheduled for Monday, January 17, at 10 AM at IBA. I had taken the BCS examination from Chittagong, where the PSC-designated examination center for Chittagong candidates was Omar Gani MES College. On the day of my IBA interview, the International Affairs exam was also scheduled to begin at 10 AM. Attending an exam at Dhaka University at the same time was simply impossible. I knew that IBA didn’t offer many second chances. Having secured this opportunity, I couldn’t imagine myself foolish or generous enough to let it slip away. Instead of studying for the next day’s Bangladesh Affairs Paper I, I began calling everyone I knew who had studied at IBA or was familiar with it. I still remember the intense excitement of that time. When something you desperately want comes within reach, yet circumstances force you to let it go—staying calm in such a moment is nearly impossible. Everyone I spoke with on the phone said the same thing: “You can’t have two good things at once. You’ll have to give up one of them. If you try to keep a foot in both boats, you’ll end up with neither. Besides, you can take the BCS exam again, and you can also take the IBA admission test again. Let go of one.” Those who valued the corporate sector highly told me to abandon BCS. Those who valued the civil service told me to pursue IBA later. No one could suggest a way to manage both. At that moment, neither option seemed bigger or smaller to me—my mind had gone completely blank, and I felt as though life was playing a game of Snakes and Ladders with me. The dice might roll such a number that I’d end up in the belly of a snake—but then again, it might not. Sometimes the number that comes up sends you climbing a ladder high above. Life’s Snakes and Ladders board doesn’t contain only snakes—there are ladders too! Who’s to say this throw won’t land on a ladder? Life is indeed like Snakes and Ladders, where the highest number isn’t necessarily the best. Perhaps I’d roll two sixes and then a five—totaling seventeen, the highest possible—yet still end up sliding down a long snake. But equally possible: rolling the smallest number, just one, and finding myself climbing rapidly up a ladder to great heights. Understanding the game of less is the most difficult thing of all! The highest number isn’t always the best. You must see how much is actually needed. Great income, great torment—what need is there for such a large sum? Knowing how to choose the right number for your life is a great art indeed!

I thought, why should I surrender before I’ve even lost? I’ll see this through to the end. At home, my parents were also saying, “Give up one of them.” My heart was telling me, “I won’t give up, not for anything!” Let me gamble with life this once and see what happens! You have to listen to your heart. I called the MBA Program Office. Zakir bhai was in charge there. He said, “IBA’s schedule doesn’t change for anyone. You change your schedule.” I said, “That’s not possible. You have several slots. BCS has only one.” Even after that he said, “It’s not possible in any way. We’re sorry!” Saying this, he hung up the phone, and my stubbornness only grew stronger. I put aside studying for the next day’s exam. After some inquiries, I learned that Rahi Sir was the Program Chairman for IBA’s MBA at the time. Only he could change my interview slot if he wanted to. Rahi Sir is an incredibly fierce person. IBA’s Marketing Department is the best in Bangladesh. Rahi Sir is the best faculty in that department. I got his number. The person I got the number from asked, “Are you really going to call Rahi Sir?” “Yes. Why?” “We students never dare to call Sir. And you’re going to call him for this?” “I will. I have to. My back is against the wall.” “God bless you, man! You better think twice.” I said, “Sometimes life doesn’t give you the opportunity to think twice. It’s the first and the only chance! I must grab it before it’s too late! I will call him. I’ll make my attempt—if it works, it works; if not, so be it. If I don’t try, it definitely won’t work. Thank you, bhai!” Right after finishing that conversation, without any second thoughts, I called Rahi Sir. A man with an extremely serious voice. It’s frightening just to speak with him. But I have nothing left to lose. I only know this: I passed IBA’s written exam and IBA has to conduct my interview. I had truly become reckless. I blurted out my entire problem in one breath. Rahi Sir said, “You silly kid! You’ve dared to call Rahi Sir for this! Did you think I am your friend? It’s not my business whether you can attend the viva board or not. You have only 2 choices: Leave IBA, or, Leave BCS.” To my infinite amazement, I heard myself saying, “Sir, I have called you to hear about the third choice. If you don’t have that, please make it for me. I know I’ll be at IBA.” Sir said very loudly over the phone, “You are a stupid little boy. You just know nothing about the things here! Don’t waste my time. I am busy!” “Sir, please give me a chance. I am………” I couldn’t make him hear any more—he hung up before that. I couldn’t understand what had happened, only felt an even stronger desire to believe that I would definitely study at IBA. BCS seemed to fade for a moment. Whatever happens in tomorrow’s exam will happen. Right now I need to sort out the IBA situation first. I called the program office again.

I asked, “When can I actually meet Rahi sir?” “What do you mean?” “Sir told me to come see him.” “Ask sir himself when you can actually meet him.” (I mustered the courage to lie….) “Sir said to call the program office and find out.” “He told you to ask us? Really! Alright, stay on the line, let me check sir’s class schedule.” Zakir bhai informed me that if I came next Friday evening, I could meet sir. Saying “thank you very much,” I hung up the phone and immediately left home to buy a bus ticket. From near Gariullah Shah’s shrine in Chittagong, I bought a ticket on Unique’s non-AC bus to Dhaka for Thursday night. The next day, under tremendous mental pressure, I took my Bangladesh Studies Paper 1 exam. Even in the exam hall, my mind kept racing: “Will Rahi sir keep his word?” In my answer sheet, I mistakenly wrote the word “Rahi” several times, though I crossed it out later.

I arrived at IBA before afternoon on Friday. I stood waiting in front of the MBA Program Office. Zakir bhai wasn’t there at the time—he came in the evening, two hours later. I went up and introduced myself. “Oh, I see, you’ve come from Chittagong. Rahi sir mentioned he would speak with you about changing your interview schedule? Really??” “Yes, he told me to come see him!” We were talking when Rahi sir arrived shortly after. He went straight through the program office into his room. A dignified man of serious disposition. His office was right next to the program office. Zakir bhai said, “Please sit on the sofa. Let me ask sir if he’s free right now.” When he told sir, “Someone named Sushanta Pal has come from Chittagong to see you—you had asked him to come,” sir immediately shouted quite loudly, “I didn’t ask anyone to come see me! Tell him to leave. Disgusting!” Zakir bhai told me, “Sir won’t see you. You should go.” “I’ll leave, but only after meeting with sir. Brother, I haven’t come here to turn back. I must see him.” Almost forcefully, I entered sir’s room without permission. After I said very politely, “Assalamu alaikum, sir,” he returned the greeting and said, “What do you want?” There were several other students in the room who had come to sir for various matters. “Sir, I called you the day before yesterday evening.” “Is it my duty to remember your call? Get out!” I said nothing and stood there with my head bowed. The words “Get out!” didn’t register in my mind. At that moment, I only knew that I would speak with Rahi sir about changing the schedule, and sir would surely agree to do so. After standing like this for nearly half an hour, sir said, “Why are you standing here like a statue?” I fearfully placed an application about changing the time slot on sir’s desk and began to say, “Sir, the day before yesterday I spoke with you on the phone…” “Speak in the language I am using now.” “Sir, my interview has been scheduled for next Monday at 10 in the morning. I am appearing for the 30th BCS written exam. I have an exam at the same time. So, I request you to shift my schedule to another convenient time slot.” “Sorry, we cannot.” “Please Sir! Otherwise, my dream to be here will be shattered.” “Let it be. Just go for BCS. You will do better being a civil servant.” “But Sir, it’s uncertain.” “Is being here certain for you?” “No Sir, that’s why I cannot leave any of these 2 opportunities. Please Sir, give me a chance. Do me a favour. I will be ever grateful, Sir.” “What time is your exam?” “10 o’clock, sir.” “How long?” “Three hours, sir.” “Okay fine, come straight here after your exam. Can you make it by 1:30?” I realized sir had forgotten that I’d come from Chittagong. “Sir, I’m taking the exam from Chittagong.” “Stupid! We cannot change our schedule for you! Are you Mr President?” “No Sir, I just want to be your student! I will do anything you tell me to do. Please give me a chance, Sir!” “Look, brother, you won’t be able to finish your exam at 1 o’clock and come from Chittagong to take the interview anyway.

You won’t make it even if you leave at 10 PM. The roads are in terrible condition, there’s heavy traffic.” “Sir, I can come in the evening.” “How? By plane?” “Yes, sir. Please give me a chance, sir.” “Alright. Don’t you have an exam the next day?” “I do, sir. I can manage. I’ll buy a return ticket.” “What time can you arrive?” “Whatever you say, sir.” “Your exam will end at 1 PM. Hmm… okay, can you make it to the 3 o’clock board?” “Yes sir, I can be there at 3.” “Do you know if there are flights at that time?” “I don’t know, sir. I’ll find out.” “I think there’s a flight around 3.” “What time can you arrive?” “4 o’clock, sir?” “Foolish boy! Your brain isn’t working. How can you take a 3 o’clock flight from Chittagong and get from the airport to IBA by 4? You have no idea about Dhaka city. Okay, you come by 5:15 sharp. You will be last person in that board. If you come after that, nothing can be done. The evening board is for Executive MBA. It won’t be possible to hold your viva there. Okay?” “Thank you, sir.” “Youngman, you have decided to play with your life! Best of luck!” “Please pray for me, sir. I can do this!” Tears came to my eyes. I realized that though this man appeared stern on the outside, he was very gentle within. I offered many prayers for the sir and left IBA. I went to Aziz and bought some books. Then I went to Fakirapul and took the 10 PM non-AC bus from Unique, reaching Chittagong in the morning.

I’m sharing the application with you:

15 January 2011

The Program Director, MBA Program

Institute of Business Administration

University of Dhaka

Dhaka

Subject: Prayer for changing the time slot of the interview schedule of the MBA Program Admission

Sir,

This letter expresses my earnest request to change my interview schedule of the MBA Program Admission 2010-2011. I am a candidate for Full-Time Course, my admit number is 2745 and I am on Interview Board 6 scheduled to be conducted at the 10:00 am to 1:00 pm time slot on January 17, 2011. I am appearing at the 30th BCS written examination and my Examination Centre is at Chittagong. I have an examination on January 17, 2011, coincided with the same time slot of the interview and so it is not possible for me to come from Chittagong and attend the interview at 10:00 am.

I will be highly obliged if you kindly permit me to attend the interview at the 6:00 pm to 8:30 pm time slot scheduled for Evening Board 3 and Evening Board 4 on January 17, 2011.

Yours faithfully

Sushanta Paul

I had never been on a plane before. I thought that wherever you go, you need a passport to fly. My elder brother called a friend who works with passport services and asked what documents are needed for an emergency passport to Dhaka. He burst out laughing! He said, “Buddy, what do you need a passport for? A plane and a bus are the same thing. One flies in the sky, the other runs on the road. That’s all there is to it! Just go buy a ticket. That’s it! Which one is good? You can go with GMG. That’s pretty good.” I didn’t know that you don’t have to rush to the airport to buy a plane ticket. I had no idea how much tickets cost. Getting off the bus in the morning, I went straight to a Dutch-Bangla Bank booth and withdrew ten thousand taka. Then I jumped into a CNG and rushed to the airport. I bought a ticket from the GMG Airlines counter for the 3:20 flight on Monday, the 17th. That was the first Chittagong-Dhaka flight of the afternoon. I booked a return ticket for the same day on the 7:45 evening flight. I felt like I could see it right before my eyes—me attending classes at IBA! Such a strange vision! I returned home with a victorious smile, almost as if I had already gotten into IBA! At night, I tried to prepare from various guides and the internet about what they might ask in the IBA interview. I studied for about 4-5 hours. At the same time, I posted a status on Facebook: How much time does it take to reach Dhaka University from Dhaka International Airport? Is it possible to reach in 40 minutes? Friends, any suggestion, please? I was truly a very simple person back then. I saw the world in very simple terms. Since I hadn’t visited Dhaka much, I didn’t know that in 2011 it wasn’t possible to get from the airport to Shahbag in 40 minutes. Everyone was saying it would take a minimum of two hours to get from the airport to the university campus in the afternoon. All sorts of bizarre comments came in reply to my status. Many started making fun of me. I’ll share some of my friends’ suggestions: “It’s possible if you run.” “It would be great if you jogged to the university. You’d get your evening exercise too!” “You shouldn’t have bought that plane ticket! With that money, if you had thrown us a party, we all would have prayed together and your BCS would have worked out! Hahahaha…..” “Young man! You’re young, just run as soon as you get off the plane! You’ll see, you’ll reach before time!” “Listen, such-and-such bus runs on such-and-such route. Hanging and sleeping, you’ll reach IBA just fine!” I got many such absurd comments. I knew absolutely nothing about Dhaka then. When you’re in trouble, doesn’t everyone have to give you a kick? It began to feel like that’s just how life is! People can’t extend a hand to pull you up, but they can certainly extend a foot to kick you down! Without getting the least bit discouraged by anyone’s words, I kept waiting to see if someone would give some good advice. I didn’t react to anyone’s reply that day. How helplessly calm a person becomes when in trouble. All I knew was this: “I’m giving my IBA interview on the 17th.” One person wrote, “You can go by bike. There’s no faster way to reach the university campus.” Some people even supported that idea. A few mentioned taxi cabs. Support was strongest for the bike option. Up until then, I had ridden a bike maybe 2-3 times in my entire life, counting generously. I didn’t really know anyone in Dhaka who had a bike, or if I did know someone, my mind wasn’t working at all then. Sometimes I think now, alas!

I couldn’t even afford to manage a bike at that time. I wrote, “My flight is scheduled to land at Dhaka Airport at 4.10 pm on 17 January. I must reach Dhaka University at or before 5.15 pm. I’ve an interview at IBA at that time. . . . Can’t I do it? Is it not possible? I need to do it at any cost. As I don’t know about the routes of Dhaka City, I’m asking for your help. Dhaka City is an unknown city to me. Can a taxi cab help me reach there in 1 hour? I can’t be late, otherwise I’ll miss the interview schedule. I’ve managed that schedule today through an application. . . Can a bike be a better solution? Or, something else? I’m in great trouble. . . .” After posting this, the mocking and laughter began all over again. I replied to the distinguished gentleman (one of Bangladesh’s most successful businessmen) who had advised me to jog there: “Thank you Sir for you ‘jogging’ suggestion. I was also seriously thinking of this option. Yes, I’ll surely manage to reach in time by vehicles, on foot, again by vehicles, again on foot . . . . And, I’ll go. I’ll be there in time by any means.” Someone said, “Change the schedule once more.” I wrote, “The schedule can’t be changed! Hopefully, there will happen some miracle and I’ll manage to avail the schedule in time.” A younger brother wrote, “Brother, you should go by taxi-cab. But you could try the bus once. Dhaka buses run quite well!” I replied, “Brother, I’m not surely making any attempt of getting on a bus! That’ll be horrible, you know. I was just seeking for a suggestion as I don’t know about the route. Thanks for the suggestion. I think a CNG powered taxi can help me in this regard. A taxi-cab is prone to getting stuck up in the congestion forever. A bike could be a better solution. But, I can’t manage it.”

Mrs. Zohra, whose name was Ira—an extremely distinguished lady—commented, “You need a bike?” “That would be wonderful.” “Alright, let me see what I can do.” She was the Deputy Managing Director of ONE Bank. After completing her studies in Chemistry from Chittagong University, she had done her MBA from IBA. She worked in the corporate sector, but there were very few people who didn’t know her. I have a sister. Her name is Sharmin Muiz Khan. At that time, she was one of those rare souls who loved someone as insignificant as me far more than necessary, showered me with affection for no particular reason. She was almost my mother’s age, but I addressed her as ‘tumi’ and she called me ‘tui’. She had studied English Literature at Dhaka University. She particularly loved my writing. She was a business magnate and had connections with many prominent people. I have rarely seen a lady as distinguished, refined, elegant, and utterly graceful as her. She commented, “Bappi, someone needs to grab you and give you a good thrashing. Are you enjoying confusing everyone by calling them all the time? Please stop wasting your time browsing Facebook and concentrate on tomorrow’s exam. Otherwise, you’re calling for another disaster. There is a saying: ‘Que sera, sera’ meaning: Whatever will be, will be. So, pray and try your best. I have given this opinion after a lot of serious thoughts. Please follow it. You will leave here right now. I don’t want to see you making even one more comment! MIRACLES HAPPEN IF YOU BELIEVE IN YOURSELF!” I replied, “Didi, things are that they’re. Things will be that they will be. And, between this two there lie some miracles that we’re never aware of. And, miracles are often stranger than facts. Facts are because they’re. Miracles are because we or someone else wants them to be. That’s the truth!” She called Mrs. Zohra. She said, “Look Ira, my brother has gotten into a bit of trouble. The poor thing is a simple soul, we should do something for him. Can’t you arrange a bike for him?” A little while later, I saw a message from Mrs. Zohra in my inbox: “Please give me your contact number. Regards” I gave it immediately. The call came within seconds. After introducing herself, she said, “You need a bike Monday at 4 PM, right?” “That would be wonderful.” “OK, a bike will be there for you at 4. My colleague Romel will pick you. Alright?” “I am truly, truly grateful. Thank you so very much!” “Let’s get the work done first, then you can thank me. I’m texting you Romel’s number. Take care.” She hung up immediately. I wrote to her: “Life is stranger than fiction, I repeat. From myself, I’ve got much less than I truly deserve. From others, I’ve got much more than I truly deserve. Is it the thing that they call miracle? I don’t know and never try to know. I let miracles happen and thankfully they always happen . . . . . . . Thank you for your generous approach. This really means a lot to me.” I wrote my piece. I don’t know if she ever read it or had the time to read it. Noble souls don’t wait for thanks. Besides, she was truly, truly busy.

He was the head of the credit section at One Bank. He had no reason to know a nobody like me, yet he knew me through my writing. Otherwise, I would never have had the privilege of speaking with him directly. And the fact that Sharmin didi had spoken to him about me—that was a big deal too. The next day was the Bangladesh Affairs Paper 2 exam. I went to sleep without studying any of it. The day after, straight from the exam hall, I went to the Westex showroom at Probortak intersection. My life’s first interview. I was incredibly excited! I had decided I’d go to the interview board wearing everything brand new. I bought a formal white shirt, black pants, black tie, black belt, black socks, white undershirt, and brown shoes. Later, from Gallery Apex I bought formal Oxford shoes, and from Time Zone a Titan wristwatch, then returned home in the evening. Seeing my antics, Ma was laughing. “Ma, why are you laughing?” “Just because, dear.” The funny thing was, Ma went with me to the exam hall every single day. She always kept me close, just like a child. Ma said, “Tomorrow I’m going to the airport with you.” And she did go—despite my protests.

Monday, the 17th. International Affairs exam. I couldn’t stay in the exam hall for the entire time due to nerves. I don’t have a car, what if the CNG takes too long to reach the airport! What if I miss the flight! The flight was at 3:20. And it takes at least 2 hours to reach the airport from Omar Gani MES College by 1 PM. Our written exam had been during winter. In the bitter cold, my fingers would freeze. Still, I kept rubbing my palms together to warm them, blowing hot breath into the hollow of my cupped hands, and wrote with all my strength. Instead of 1 o’clock, I finished the exam at 12:30, submitted my paper, and rushed out. When I emerged from the hall and reached the gate, everyone thought I must have been expelled! The intense stress was clearly written all over my face. Many showed me sympathy, told me not to worry, advised me to do better in the next BCS. I didn’t have time to respond. What could I say anyway—at that moment, life itself was one giant question mark for me! I don’t know what strength possessed my mother. She ran almost twice as fast as me, covering the distance from the college campus to the road. We got into a CNG without bargaining, paying nearly one and a half times the normal fare. I told the driver, “However you manage it, get us to the airport within two hours. If necessary, I’ll pay you extra.” It was 12:50 on the clock. The CNG started speeding. Mother opened the tiffin box and fed me khichuri, meat, and fried egg. One thought kept spinning in my head: “Will I catch the plane? If we get stuck in traffic, it’s all over!” I took off my sweater. I had left home that morning wearing my viva outfit, everything except the tie. After escaping two minor traffic jams, when we reached the airport, it was 5 minutes to 3. As soon as I got down, I touched my mother’s and aunt’s feet in respect (a distant aunt had come with us since mother couldn’t return home from the airport alone) and ran to the counter. There I learned that the flight was delayed by an hour due to dense fog. I thought, if the plane leaves at that time, there’s no way I can reach IBA by 5:15. I informed the counter staff about this. They said there was nothing they could do; they were very sorry. I inquired and learned that no other flights were departing at that time either. At that moment, I felt utterly helpless, just wanting to cry. I felt like I had no one, no one at all! I kept going from counter to counter. I found out there was a Bangladesh Biman flight departing at 3:45. There was no other flight before that. It was a bigger plane, taking 30 minutes to reach, whereas other planes take at least 40 minutes. Meaning, I would reach Dhaka airport by 4:15! I bought the ticket right then. There was great hope in my heart—if this one leaves on time, there’s nothing more to worry about. I went to the airport restroom and quickly put on my tie. I adjusted my shirt once more. Looking in the mirror, I fixed my hair with my hand. The clock hand crossed 4 after passing 3:45. The plane was delayed due to fog. We all boarded the plane at 4:15. It was my first time on a plane. I kept thinking, when will it take off, when will it take off! Every second felt like an hour! The tension was making it hard to breathe, yet the plane wouldn’t take off. I thought, oh! If only I could spend all my strength to make this plane soar into the sky! I pressed my handkerchief over my eyes to hide my tears. Finally, the plane took off. It was 4:37 on the clock. I was thinking, oh!

The plane could have taken off directly without taxiing! At least a couple of minutes would have been saved! The plane landed on Dhaka’s runway at 5:13.

I burst out of the domestic terminal running with all my might, and gasping for breath, I saw a motorcycle come to a stop right in front of me. “You’re Sushanta, right? Get on the back!” I extended my hand to shake hands with the young man in the black helmet. He didn’t raise his black-gloved right fist for a handshake. “Time’s wasting, brother! Please get on! Quick!” I didn’t argue further. “You’re not used to riding bikes, are you?” “Yes. How did you know?” “Brother, I’ve been riding bikes for the past 18-20 years. I can tell.” “I see.” “Lean forward and press your chest firmly against my back! You can even wrap your arms around me, otherwise you’ll get thrown off. For sure! I’m going to ride fast.” The way that bike tore out of the airport—I don’t have the courage to even think about it today. Under normal circumstances, I might have screamed in fear and told him to stop, or I really would have been thrown off. But at that moment I knew that being afraid was important, but far more important was reaching IBA alive. I don’t know if the wheels of that 150cc bike actually touched the ground that day, but for the second time in my life I understood this truth: you cannot frighten someone who stakes their life to touch their dreams. I had only seen bikes racing so recklessly on the roads in movies. The bike was literally cutting through the whooshing sound of wind, as if flying through the air! “Say brother, are you somebody really important?” “What do you mean?” “Well, Madam told me that one of her very important friends had to be delivered from the airport to IBA within half an hour, no matter what. That was her order! Who are you, brother? Hahahaha………” “I’m Madam’s Facebook friend.” “What are you saying, man? How’s that possible! I was thinking even more… you mean you’ve never even met her?” “No, brother. Why?” (There’s a railway crossing ahead. The barrier is coming down.) “Brother, duck your head a little.” Saying this, he quickly rode the bike under the barrier without obeying the signal. Many people behind us were shouting for us to stop. “Brother, just don’t be afraid. Nothing will happen. You can close your eyes if you want.” Right at that moment, while quickly emerging from between two trucks standing side by side, he said, “Sit a bit smaller, brother!” A little further ahead—massive traffic jam at a signal! Romel bhai lifted the bike onto the sidewalk. “Brother, please give way a little, give way a little,” he kept saying as he raced forward. He had to do this several times. Sometimes when riding on the central divider in the middle of the road, traffic police would catch us, and he’d say in a tearful voice, “Sir, my aunt is fighting for her life in the medical college. I’m going to donate blood. O-negative blood—we can’t find any. If I don’t reach on time, we won’t be able to save my aunt, sir!” He’d manage the police with this story and then race off at the same speed again! Whenever there was a traffic jam on the road, he’d immediately change to another road. That day I learned that when obstacles appear on the road, it doesn’t mean there is no road. Rather, it means you have to take a different road! Right now!! I had only seen such daredevil biking in Hollywood action movies. Looking at my hair in the bike’s mirror, it seemed as if it had stood up straight after an electric shock! My face was covered with dust from the city. In the fierce wind, my tie was flying behind me in the air. I don’t know if anyone has ever seen a bike race so recklessly through Dhaka’s roads during rush hour. But for some reason, I truly wasn’t afraid at all. I kept thinking over and over, “How quickly can one reach IBA!” Romel bhai had finished his honors and master’s from Dhaka College before joining the bank. I had asked him, “What’s your designation at the bank?” He had joked, “Not much, just 14 more promotions and I’ll be able to sit in Zohra Madam’s chair. Hahaha…….”

When I arrived in front of IBA, my watch showed 5:52. As I got down, I saw my younger brother Pappu and his friend Arefin standing there. At that time, I had my gift shop ‘Dobhana.’ Pappu and Arefin were my working partners. They often came to Dhaka from Chawk Bazaar in Old Dhaka to buy wholesale goods for the shop. I had withdrawn myself from the shop to focus on my BCS exam preparation. They ran everything. They were already in Dhaka on shop business. I had told them to go to the IBA MBA program office and keep me updated by phone about the viva board situation. Through repeated conversations with them, I was checking whether the interview board was still there, asking them to go to the program office and explain that I couldn’t arrive on time due to flight delays, terrible traffic jams, and so on. As soon as I got down, they informed me, “Bhaiya, the board left 4-5 minutes ago. Now only the Executive MBA viva remains.” After introducing them to Romel bhai, I rushed up to the MBA program office on the second floor. As soon as they saw me, everyone there stopped their work and looked at me. I saw Rahi Sir busy with something; he didn’t respond to my greeting. “Sir, I’m very late. Despite trying hard, I couldn’t arrive on time. I…” Without giving me a chance to say anything more, he shouted, “You Idiot! Get out!” “Sir, I…” “I said, Get out! Out! Out!! I knew very well that you wouldn’t be able to come on time. Is it possible to take one exam in Chittagong and then come to Dhaka for another exam? That easy? You’ve just wasted my time! I had told everyone that a boy from Chittagong would come at 5:15, and we needed to take his viva. Did you think I am a joker?” “Sir, I came here with great difficulty. The flight was delayed, there was heavy traffic on the road. I really…” “It’s none of my business! Get out! Go back where you came from.” “Sir, I had many dreams of studying at IBA.” “Everyone on the street has such dreams. I gave you a chance but you missed it. That’s all! Get out of here.” “Sir, please have some mercy…” (I felt like falling at his feet and crying…) Right beside him sat a gentle-looking gentleman much younger than the sir. He said, “Sir, I’ve heard about him. His younger brother kept coming to our program office. They had been standing in front of the office for hours. His flight was indeed delayed. And there’s heavy traffic in Dhaka today too. A friend of mine came to my room from the airport a while ago; it took him a long time to get here too. Give him a chance, Sir. He’s come so far, taking such risks with great difficulty! He apparently has another written exam tomorrow too. The poor fellow has to return to Chittagong today itself.” “Son, you junior faculty members don’t even know what you’re saying, what kind of requests you make. Why are you pleading for him? Is he your relative or something?” “No no Sir, I’m seeing him for the first time today. Just look at his face once, Sir. He’s really come here with great difficulty. Please do him a favor, Sir.” “You have no idea what you are talking about! Will the Executive MBA viva be the same as theirs? They have 3 years of job experience, while these are just children in comparison!

“This won’t be possible, brother. I am sorry!” “Sir, please help the poor fellow a bit. He’s come such a long way with so much hope!” “Son, we can’t manage anything more for you!” I stood a little distance away, head bowed. Looking at me, he called out loudly, “Hey, stupid! Why are you standing there like a donkey? Go on, go to the third floor! Go and stand there absolutely quietly. We’ll call you.” I truly couldn’t understand whether such a beautiful moment had ever come anywhere in this world before! Tears began streaming down my face. I prayed again and again from my heart for Babu sir. Rahi sir seemed like a father figure to me. I kept remembering mother’s words: “Never get angry at teachers’ scolding. When teachers scold, it means blessings.” Overwhelmed with emotion, as I was about to leave after thanking and saluting the teachers, Rahi sir called from behind, “Hey crazy boy! Comb your hair before entering the board! Wash your face at the basin! Don’t be so scared! Hahaha…” I couldn’t say anything more. I kept staring blankly at sir’s face. My cheeks were wet with tears from both eyes. Babu sir placed his hand on my shoulder and said, “Go on, go upstairs and wait. We are not that much bad people as you thought us to be. Sometimes even the IBA faculties are too good! Freshen up, give your interview properly, now there’s no tension anymore. What’s your exam tomorrow?” “Sir, Mathematical Reasoning and Mental Ability.” “How will you go?” “Sir, I have a return plane ticket.” “Good! Brother, splash some water on your eyes and face to fix your appearance. Give your viva quickly and rush to the airport! Good luck!” At that moment I felt like touching sir’s feet in salute. People get frightened by sudden intense love. For the first time, it suddenly struck me: “What if I can’t honor this love of my teachers? What if I don’t get a chance at IBA in the end?”

When we find ourselves in trouble, if our intentions are pure, a way out always emerges! I went to the washroom on the third floor and tried my best to “make myself presentable” by wetting my hair and smoothing it down. After splashing water on my face, I went and waited in front of the notice board. I was called after 10 minutes. It was nearly seven o’clock. When I entered the room, I saw many faculty members seated there. I hadn’t known that so many would be present for an interview. I thought this was perhaps how IBA interviews were conducted. I later learned that this entire panel had been assembled just for me. Apart from Babu Sir and Rahi Sir, I didn’t recognize anyone else. After getting admitted, I realized that those present that evening were IBA’s most senior and accomplished faculty members. The board included Saiful Majid Sir, Shama-e-Zahir Sir, Mamun Sir, Munir Khosru Sir, Niaz Sir, and Saif Noman Khan Sir. Most of the junior faculty had finished their interviews and gone home, while some senior faculty were in their offices conducting Executive MBA interviews. Some of them had been specially called in. I was in the interview for about 18-20 minutes. Many of the faculty members knew about my situation that day. I had heard of something called “divine possession” in life. At certain special moments, due to particular external influences or circumstances, people suddenly gain extraordinary power. In those moments, they step outside their normal state and display different behavior. They can harness the utmost potential of their inner infinite strength. In that wondrous balanced fusion of emotion and capability, the best version of themselves emerges. From the moment I entered the interview room, I had very likely become a different person, or perhaps the very best ‘me’ from within had emerged that day. By what divine signal this happened, I don’t know. No hesitation, doubt, nervousness, fear, the day’s exhaustion, or lethargy was affecting me at all. I felt incredibly composed and light as a feather. It felt as though whatever I was saying or doing was the best possible. I was experiencing the finest moment of my life right then and there. I can say with complete honesty that the style in which I spoke English that day—I have never in my entire life, even to this day, been able to speak English so flawlessly and fluently. That day the faculty members engaged in various kinds of humor during the interview. They were having great fun with me. Most likely, the faculty wanted to “shake me up” somehow. I don’t know why, by whose indication I don’t know, but I kept answering all their questions one by one with a very cool head and a smile that day. They interviewed me in English on various diverse topics, starting from describing the entire day’s events and the preceding Facebook incidents to many other subjects. (Of course, at IBA there’s absolutely no opportunity to give interviews in Bengali.) Why I wanted to pursue an MBA, why IBA if I was going to take government job exams anyway, my weaknesses, whether I’d ever been in love, how I spend my leisure time, some conversation about reading books, various economic issues of Bangladesh, some personal and family matters, my future plans, the breathless motorcycle journey from A to Z, the BCS examination system, why I went into engineering despite having no interest, why I delayed my honors degree, why I didn’t study properly, why my CGPA was so low, what I like to eat, what kind of personality I prefer in people, what I know about IBA, some current affairs, and several other questions. I was answering very quickly in correct English. The faculty praised this too. I gave a very simple, straightforward, and candid interview. I didn’t speak a single false word that day.

I didn’t need to think before speaking—whatever came to mind, I simply said, so there was no chance to fabricate lies. At the end, they asked me to sing a song. When I said, “I can’t, Sir,” Babu Sir showed me my info-form and laughed, saying, “But you’ve claimed so.” I had written Reading, Writing, Singing in the hobbies section… At that moment, it felt like I was living the best day of my life. I sang, “Aaj ei dintake…” “I see, we’re getting a singer for our cultural program!” As Saiful Majid Sir was saying this, Babu Sir interjected, “Sir, he has another exam tomorrow. He’ll probably be flying back to Chittagong tonight.” Then three or four teachers exclaimed in unison, “What! He’s going back to Chittagong right now? Well then, run along, run along! Go downstairs and see if your superman biker is there! Hahahaha…” As I was leaving with my salaam, the teachers called out, “Best of luck for your tomorrow’s exam.” I kept thinking, again and again—I’ll make it, I’ll make it! (Even after giving the BCS viva, I didn’t feel this good.)

When I stepped out of IBA, it was half past seven on the clock. I knew there was no way I could catch the 7:45 flight. I also knew that I had no idea how I would get to Chittagong that night. I didn’t even feel like thinking about it. Only the exhilarating rush of having given a good exam was coursing through me. Pappu and Arefin had been waiting for me at Madhu’s canteen. Taking them along, I went to the front of Dhaka University’s Central Library and leisurely began eating vegetable pakoras and tea. Many of my students studied in various departments at Dhaka University. Quite a few came to see me. They were asking what questions had been asked in the interview. After a day of incredible experiences, my head had become almost entirely empty. I couldn’t understand why I wasn’t feeling the slightest urgency to return to Chittagong. Pappu asked, “Brother, will you take the night bus?” I said, “Yes, that could work.” (It amuses me now to think how casually I had said ‘that could work’!) The road conditions weren’t good then either, there were always traffic jams. It didn’t even occur to me—what would happen if I couldn’t reach by 10 AM tomorrow? Ripon, a dear younger brother who lived in Chittagong and was one of my former students, said, “Brother, I have a non-AC train ticket; for Turna Nishitha, leaving tonight. It doesn’t matter if I don’t go to Chittagong today. Brother, you take it.” “Alright, fine,” I said, took the ticket, and set off toward Kamalapur Station. That night the train left nearly an hour and a half late. I didn’t even want to think about what was going to happen! I had already surrendered myself to fate long before. In my mind I kept repeating only this: whatever will be, will be. Whether I want it or not, it will happen. And whatever is happening is surely for the good; whatever will happen will surely be for the good too. Let’s see! After the day’s exhaustion, I had a very peaceful sleep. Suddenly I woke up hearing commotion around me. The train had stopped at Comilla. Apparently there was some problem with the line. We were delayed there for nearly two and a quarter hours. I couldn’t understand why I wasn’t feeling any kind of anxiety! I fell asleep again. Sleep is the world’s only faithful lover. Whenever I want it, I find it near. Never, under any circumstances, does it abandon me. There can be no purer love than the love for sleep.

When the train reached Chittagong railway station the next day, it was a quarter to ten in the morning. My exam was scheduled to start at ten. It takes only fifteen minutes to get from the station to my house. When I got home, I found my mother sitting there with everything ready in her hands—my pencil box, board, scale, pen, calculator, admit card, registration card, all of it. My parents had been terribly anxious at home. I hadn’t been able to speak to them since after half past one at night. My mobile had run out of charge. (I was using a cheap Nokia 1100 mobile set back then. Everyone called it the “national set”! It was so sturdy that many would joke, “Dude, you could crack jackfruit with that phone!” I’d tease my friends who used expensive mobiles, saying, “My phone’s model is ‘N Eleven Zero Zero’!”) As soon as my mother saw me, she said, “Dear, how are you? Will you take today’s exam?” I felt emotionally numb. It seemed as though I was lighter than a feather at that moment, floating around in some kind of trance! I smiled and said, “Ma, I’m perfectly fine. I’ll take the exam.” Saying this, I took the packed shopping bag from my mother’s hands and left the house just as I was. It was 10:05 on the clock. From our house to the exam center, it takes at least thirty minutes by CNG during office hours. When I reached the college gate, it was 10:43. That day was the mathematical reasoning and mental ability test. The first two hours were mathematical reasoning, followed by one hour of mental ability. The exam had already started forty-three minutes earlier. Naturally, the police wouldn’t let me enter. I pleaded extensively, kept trying futilely to explain what had happened, but they weren’t willing to listen to anything. But I had made up my mind—I wasn’t going to turn back, I would get inside no matter what. A small commotion started gathering there. Seeing the crowd, the magistrate came over. After hearing my entire story, he said, “You only have one hour left. Can you finish all the math problems in this time?” Without a moment’s hesitation, I said, “I can, sir!” “Alright, go ahead. Good luck!” My heart overflowed with gratitude toward him. At that moment, he seemed to me not human, but divine! I went in, looked at the questions, took the exam. I even showed three problems to the person sitting next to me. (He got a job in Audit and Accounts in the 30th batch.) I scored 98 on that day’s exam—50 in math, 48 in mental ability. After that… well, as everyone says—the rest is history!

But this much is true: had that day’s exam been something other than mathematics, I would have been in real trouble. I can handle math because the type of problems that appeared in the BCS written exam back then weren’t particularly difficult for me to solve. Such problems don’t strain the mind much, and the 30th BCS written exam featured relatively easy math. Even if I worked through each step carefully and added side notes, it shouldn’t have taken more than half an hour. It didn’t for me either. However, spending two and a half hours on the International Affairs exam the day before had been risky. Actually, no matter how incredible the whole affair might seem, everything appears to have been predetermined by the Creator or nature itself. What remains inexplicable to our limited understanding is simply a natural, ordinary occurrence for the Creator. All our failures and successes are already decided beforehand. But to reach that point, the effort—or making the right decision at the right time—that we must do ourselves. I wasn’t even supposed to pass my undergraduate degree. Yet it was my destiny to complete my undergraduate studies, become a BCS cadre, study at IBA—all of it was written in my fate. Had my destiny been bound elsewhere, I would have gone there instead. I had enrolled in another master’s program under Dhaka University—MDS. After continuing that course for three months, I left it of my own accord. They had said I would need to officially hide the fact that I was simultaneously pursuing another master’s at IBA. I refused to lie. I harbor no regret about this, though. I’ve accepted that pursuing that particular master’s degree simply wasn’t written in my destiny. This is the truth, this is reality. I had gained admission to Dhaka University’s Evening MBA program in Finance, ranking sixth on the merit list, but never had to attend classes there. I received my IBA admission test results before that. I did complete my master’s in Finance from Dhaka University, but the Evening MBA program wasn’t destined for me, so I didn’t pursue my master’s degree from there.

Stepping into two boats in the middle of a river ensures certain death. Logic dictates this. But I placed my feet in two boats, taking the maximum risk—I had no other choice—yet both boats moved forward in parallel at the same speed at the same time, so I didn’t slip between them and lose my life. What explanation could there be for this? Life doesn’t follow logic; life follows the Creator’s signals. Life doesn’t always operate according to explanations. Sometimes life moves on faith. So there’s nothing to say about anyone’s personal philosophy and the life they live according to their beliefs, as long as that life doesn’t interfere with someone else’s way of living. Somewhere, no explicable form of life can be seen, and life is just like this!

Through sheer mental strength alone, I had believed that some miracle would surely occur. It did happen, because in Providence’s master plan, that’s what was meant to happen. Everything in between was the Creator’s games or plans to test my patience and concentration. You will never be given a gift you don’t deserve. You will be tested, and if you fail to pass that test, you will deprive yourself of the Creator’s grace through your own fault. I’m sharing with you the Facebook status I posted after the IBA admission test results came out, along with a couple of my own comments on it:

Friends, I’ve been finally selected for admission into the MBA Program of IBA, Dhaka University. …… feeling happy. ……. HATS OFF to Sharmeen didi, Ira madam & Romel bhai!!

# My dear friends….. Your gorgeous presence on my wall makes me think twice about the POWER of friendship & the MAGIC of love. YES……… They matter!! I just want to be with you forever. Please never say GOODBYE…. It hurts!! Your kindness and care mean a lot to me. You’ve always given me much more than I really deserve. Please accept my sincere GRATITUDE.

Happy Social Networking!!

Long live Facebook!!

My best wishes for our Friendship!!

……… Love you all ……

# (To one of my close friends) Dost, not reaching the Interview Session on 17 January at 5:30 pm was what I thought to be….. reaching there in time was what was written in my DESTINY….. And, I ended up calling it a MIRACLE, something I never believed in before…… Just have a look at the schedule of 17 January……

International Affairs Exam (BCS written exam)…. 10:00 am — 1:00 pm

The departure time of the GMG Airlines: 3:20 pm, there was a delay of about 1 hour due to fog and I availed another delayed flight of Bangladesh Biman at 4:37 pm.

The plane landed on Dhaka Airport at 5:13 pm and then I started my fight against time to meet the deadline by bike with Romel bhai!! Who managed those three saviours (Sharmeen didi, Ira madam & Romel bhai) for me? I don’t know. You better ask the Heaven! I saw such a breath-taking motor-bike driving only in English movies. Before that day, I had never thought I would experience it!!

Life is sometimes stranger than fiction . . . . Who can tell it better than I?

# (To one of my senior high-profile Indian friends) Thank you Sir for your words of felicitation. IBA of Dhaka University is considered as the most prestigious institute for doing MBA in Bangladesh. As per the rules of that Business School, the Major/Field of Specialization is allowed to be chosen at the final semester judging the academic records & intention of a candidate. I don’t have much idea about what to choose and why to choose. Please share some ideas on it as you’ve huge practical knowledge (so far as I know) about the present corporate trend.

You’ve nicely stated the trend of our careerist B-school graduates. No one really cares about their own aptitude, rather, tries to be what market wants them to be. Personally, I always like the decision-making and mainstream operational sections of giant companies. And, probably I’ll go for finance as my major when I’ve to choose it in my final semester. Yes, my semester results must be well enough to work on my advantage. That’ll be a story of one and a half years later. Till then, I’ll have to undergo the generalized curriculum as my B-school formulates. The recent economic recession worries our friends studying at the US universities. And, almost all of them suggest me not to plan of staying there. But at the same time, they suggest me completing my PhD in the US if I want to and grab that opportunity. Let’s wait and see. . . . . Are you in India now? Hope you’re quite OK along with your busy schedule. Please, sometimes give me your valuable suggestions when you’ve time and you’re here on Facebook. . . . . Thank you once again for your helpful advice. Take care.

In explaining the final part of the status shared above, I had written these words:

Let me share the Story behind the Story and elucidate the last part of my status. It would have been quite impossible for me to reach Dhaka University from Dhaka International Airport within just 50 minutes (!!) to attend the interview session of IBA in time on Jan 17, but for the cordial help of Sharmeen didi (Sharmeen Muiz) & Ira madam (Johora Bebe Ira). They’re the persons who made that miracle happen!! And, Romel bhai (Monirul Alam Romel) is the “Man with the Bike” who dared fight against time to meet the deadline!! ……. I feel honoured to express my heartfelt gratitude to these three saviours. …….. Miracles Happen When You Believe!!

I conclude this piece with a beautifully strange comment Sharmeen didi made on that status: “My prayers, good wishes, and prayers remain with you. Dear brother of mine, may you grow to great heights. And may the successful reflection of our efforts (Ira’s and mine) shine through in everything you do. I was there, I am here, I will be there. …….. Heaps of hugs and love.”

What sustains a human being? We live on love, on prayers, on good wishes. These are what keep me alive—quite well alive, in fact. My gratitude!

P.S. Let me offer you some practical wisdom. Those who think they know too much, who consider themselves supremely intelligent, who speak in grand terms without any real qualifications or notable position, who try to diminish others even through outright lies, who pontificate without knowledge, who speak to you in such a manner that you begin to doubt your own confidence—I would advise you to absolutely, absolutely, and absolutely avoid such people. They themselves cannot go very far in life, nor will they allow you to go very far either.

(Written 2-3 years ago)

I thought, why should I surrender before I’ve even lost? I’ll see this through to the end. At home, my parents were also saying, “Give up one of them.” My heart was telling me, “I won’t give up, not for anything!” Let me gamble with life this once and see what happens! You have to listen to your heart. I called the MBA Program Office. Zakir bhai was in charge there. He said, “IBA’s schedule doesn’t change for anyone. You change your schedule.” I said, “That’s not possible. You have several slots. BCS has only one.” Even after that he said, “It’s not possible in any way. We’re sorry!” Saying this, he hung up the phone, and my stubbornness only grew stronger. I put aside studying for the next day’s exam. After some inquiries, I learned that Rahi Sir was the Program Chairman for IBA’s MBA at the time. Only he could change my interview slot if he wanted to. Rahi Sir is an incredibly fierce person. IBA’s Marketing Department is the best in Bangladesh. Rahi Sir is the best faculty in that department. I got his number. The person I got the number from asked, “Are you really going to call Rahi Sir?” “Yes. Why?” “We students never dare to call Sir. And you’re going to call him for this?” “I will. I have to. My back is against the wall.” “God bless you, man! You better think twice.” I said, “Sometimes life doesn’t give you the opportunity to think twice. It’s the first and the only chance! I must grab it before it’s too late! I will call him. I’ll make my attempt—if it works, it works; if not, so be it. If I don’t try, it definitely won’t work. Thank you, bhai!” Right after finishing that conversation, without any second thoughts, I called Rahi Sir. A man with an extremely serious voice. It’s frightening just to speak with him. But I have nothing left to lose. I only know this: I passed IBA’s written exam and IBA has to conduct my interview. I had truly become reckless. I blurted out my entire problem in one breath. Rahi Sir said, “You silly kid! You’ve dared to call Rahi Sir for this! Did you think I am your friend? It’s not my business whether you can attend the viva board or not. You have only 2 choices: Leave IBA, or, Leave BCS.” To my infinite amazement, I heard myself saying, “Sir, I have called you to hear about the third choice. If you don’t have that, please make it for me. I know I’ll be at IBA.” Sir said very loudly over the phone, “You are a stupid little boy. You just know nothing about the things here! Don’t waste my time. I am busy!” “Sir, please give me a chance. I am………” I couldn’t make him hear any more—he hung up before that. I couldn’t understand what had happened, only felt an even stronger desire to believe that I would definitely study at IBA. BCS seemed to fade for a moment. Whatever happens in tomorrow’s exam will happen. Right now I need to sort out the IBA situation first. I called the program office again.

I asked, “When can I actually meet Rahi sir?” “What do you mean?” “Sir told me to come see him.” “Ask sir himself when you can actually meet him.” (I mustered the courage to lie….) “Sir said to call the program office and find out.” “He told you to ask us? Really! Alright, stay on the line, let me check sir’s class schedule.” Zakir bhai informed me that if I came next Friday evening, I could meet sir. Saying “thank you very much,” I hung up the phone and immediately left home to buy a bus ticket. From near Gariullah Shah’s shrine in Chittagong, I bought a ticket on Unique’s non-AC bus to Dhaka for Thursday night. The next day, under tremendous mental pressure, I took my Bangladesh Studies Paper 1 exam. Even in the exam hall, my mind kept racing: “Will Rahi sir keep his word?” In my answer sheet, I mistakenly wrote the word “Rahi” several times, though I crossed it out later.

I arrived at IBA before afternoon on Friday. I stood waiting in front of the MBA Program Office. Zakir bhai wasn’t there at the time—he came in the evening, two hours later. I went up and introduced myself. “Oh, I see, you’ve come from Chittagong. Rahi sir mentioned he would speak with you about changing your interview schedule? Really??” “Yes, he told me to come see him!” We were talking when Rahi sir arrived shortly after. He went straight through the program office into his room. A dignified man of serious disposition. His office was right next to the program office. Zakir bhai said, “Please sit on the sofa. Let me ask sir if he’s free right now.” When he told sir, “Someone named Sushanta Pal has come from Chittagong to see you—you had asked him to come,” sir immediately shouted quite loudly, “I didn’t ask anyone to come see me! Tell him to leave. Disgusting!” Zakir bhai told me, “Sir won’t see you. You should go.” “I’ll leave, but only after meeting with sir. Brother, I haven’t come here to turn back. I must see him.” Almost forcefully, I entered sir’s room without permission. After I said very politely, “Assalamu alaikum, sir,” he returned the greeting and said, “What do you want?” There were several other students in the room who had come to sir for various matters. “Sir, I called you the day before yesterday evening.” “Is it my duty to remember your call? Get out!” I said nothing and stood there with my head bowed. The words “Get out!” didn’t register in my mind. At that moment, I only knew that I would speak with Rahi sir about changing the schedule, and sir would surely agree to do so. After standing like this for nearly half an hour, sir said, “Why are you standing here like a statue?” I fearfully placed an application about changing the time slot on sir’s desk and began to say, “Sir, the day before yesterday I spoke with you on the phone…” “Speak in the language I am using now.” “Sir, my interview has been scheduled for next Monday at 10 in the morning. I am appearing for the 30th BCS written exam. I have an exam at the same time. So, I request you to shift my schedule to another convenient time slot.” “Sorry, we cannot.” “Please Sir! Otherwise, my dream to be here will be shattered.” “Let it be. Just go for BCS. You will do better being a civil servant.” “But Sir, it’s uncertain.” “Is being here certain for you?” “No Sir, that’s why I cannot leave any of these 2 opportunities. Please Sir, give me a chance. Do me a favour. I will be ever grateful, Sir.” “What time is your exam?” “10 o’clock, sir.” “How long?” “Three hours, sir.” “Okay fine, come straight here after your exam. Can you make it by 1:30?” I realized sir had forgotten that I’d come from Chittagong. “Sir, I’m taking the exam from Chittagong.” “Stupid! We cannot change our schedule for you! Are you Mr President?” “No Sir, I just want to be your student! I will do anything you tell me to do. Please give me a chance, Sir!” “Look, brother, you won’t be able to finish your exam at 1 o’clock and come from Chittagong to take the interview anyway.

You won’t make it even if you leave at 10 PM. The roads are in terrible condition, there’s heavy traffic.” “Sir, I can come in the evening.” “How? By plane?” “Yes, sir. Please give me a chance, sir.” “Alright. Don’t you have an exam the next day?” “I do, sir. I can manage. I’ll buy a return ticket.” “What time can you arrive?” “Whatever you say, sir.” “Your exam will end at 1 PM. Hmm… okay, can you make it to the 3 o’clock board?” “Yes sir, I can be there at 3.” “Do you know if there are flights at that time?” “I don’t know, sir. I’ll find out.” “I think there’s a flight around 3.” “What time can you arrive?” “4 o’clock, sir?” “Foolish boy! Your brain isn’t working. How can you take a 3 o’clock flight from Chittagong and get from the airport to IBA by 4? You have no idea about Dhaka city. Okay, you come by 5:15 sharp. You will be last person in that board. If you come after that, nothing can be done. The evening board is for Executive MBA. It won’t be possible to hold your viva there. Okay?” “Thank you, sir.” “Youngman, you have decided to play with your life! Best of luck!” “Please pray for me, sir. I can do this!” Tears came to my eyes. I realized that though this man appeared stern on the outside, he was very gentle within. I offered many prayers for the sir and left IBA. I went to Aziz and bought some books. Then I went to Fakirapul and took the 10 PM non-AC bus from Unique, reaching Chittagong in the morning.

I’m sharing the application with you:

15 January 2011

The Program Director, MBA Program

Institute of Business Administration

University of Dhaka

Dhaka

Subject: Prayer for changing the time slot of the interview schedule of the MBA Program Admission

Sir,

This letter expresses my earnest request to change my interview schedule of the MBA Program Admission 2010-2011. I am a candidate for Full-Time Course, my admit number is 2745 and I am on Interview Board 6 scheduled to be conducted at the 10:00 am to 1:00 pm time slot on January 17, 2011. I am appearing at the 30th BCS written examination and my Examination Centre is at Chittagong. I have an examination on January 17, 2011, coincided with the same time slot of the interview and so it is not possible for me to come from Chittagong and attend the interview at 10:00 am.

I will be highly obliged if you kindly permit me to attend the interview at the 6:00 pm to 8:30 pm time slot scheduled for Evening Board 3 and Evening Board 4 on January 17, 2011.

Yours faithfully

Sushanta Paul

I had never been on a plane before. I thought that wherever you go, you need a passport to fly. My elder brother called a friend who works with passport services and asked what documents are needed for an emergency passport to Dhaka. He burst out laughing! He said, “Buddy, what do you need a passport for? A plane and a bus are the same thing. One flies in the sky, the other runs on the road. That’s all there is to it! Just go buy a ticket. That’s it! Which one is good? You can go with GMG. That’s pretty good.” I didn’t know that you don’t have to rush to the airport to buy a plane ticket. I had no idea how much tickets cost. Getting off the bus in the morning, I went straight to a Dutch-Bangla Bank booth and withdrew ten thousand taka. Then I jumped into a CNG and rushed to the airport. I bought a ticket from the GMG Airlines counter for the 3:20 flight on Monday, the 17th. That was the first Chittagong-Dhaka flight of the afternoon. I booked a return ticket for the same day on the 7:45 evening flight. I felt like I could see it right before my eyes—me attending classes at IBA! Such a strange vision! I returned home with a victorious smile, almost as if I had already gotten into IBA! At night, I tried to prepare from various guides and the internet about what they might ask in the IBA interview. I studied for about 4-5 hours. At the same time, I posted a status on Facebook: How much time does it take to reach Dhaka University from Dhaka International Airport? Is it possible to reach in 40 minutes? Friends, any suggestion, please? I was truly a very simple person back then. I saw the world in very simple terms. Since I hadn’t visited Dhaka much, I didn’t know that in 2011 it wasn’t possible to get from the airport to Shahbag in 40 minutes. Everyone was saying it would take a minimum of two hours to get from the airport to the university campus in the afternoon. All sorts of bizarre comments came in reply to my status. Many started making fun of me. I’ll share some of my friends’ suggestions: “It’s possible if you run.” “It would be great if you jogged to the university. You’d get your evening exercise too!” “You shouldn’t have bought that plane ticket! With that money, if you had thrown us a party, we all would have prayed together and your BCS would have worked out! Hahahaha…..” “Young man! You’re young, just run as soon as you get off the plane! You’ll see, you’ll reach before time!” “Listen, such-and-such bus runs on such-and-such route. Hanging and sleeping, you’ll reach IBA just fine!” I got many such absurd comments. I knew absolutely nothing about Dhaka then. When you’re in trouble, doesn’t everyone have to give you a kick? It began to feel like that’s just how life is! People can’t extend a hand to pull you up, but they can certainly extend a foot to kick you down! Without getting the least bit discouraged by anyone’s words, I kept waiting to see if someone would give some good advice. I didn’t react to anyone’s reply that day. How helplessly calm a person becomes when in trouble. All I knew was this: “I’m giving my IBA interview on the 17th.” One person wrote, “You can go by bike. There’s no faster way to reach the university campus.” Some people even supported that idea. A few mentioned taxi cabs. Support was strongest for the bike option. Up until then, I had ridden a bike maybe 2-3 times in my entire life, counting generously. I didn’t really know anyone in Dhaka who had a bike, or if I did know someone, my mind wasn’t working at all then. Sometimes I think now, alas!

I couldn’t even afford to manage a bike at that time. I wrote, “My flight is scheduled to land at Dhaka Airport at 4.10 pm on 17 January. I must reach Dhaka University at or before 5.15 pm. I’ve an interview at IBA at that time. . . . Can’t I do it? Is it not possible? I need to do it at any cost. As I don’t know about the routes of Dhaka City, I’m asking for your help. Dhaka City is an unknown city to me. Can a taxi cab help me reach there in 1 hour? I can’t be late, otherwise I’ll miss the interview schedule. I’ve managed that schedule today through an application. . . Can a bike be a better solution? Or, something else? I’m in great trouble. . . .” After posting this, the mocking and laughter began all over again. I replied to the distinguished gentleman (one of Bangladesh’s most successful businessmen) who had advised me to jog there: “Thank you Sir for you ‘jogging’ suggestion. I was also seriously thinking of this option. Yes, I’ll surely manage to reach in time by vehicles, on foot, again by vehicles, again on foot . . . . And, I’ll go. I’ll be there in time by any means.” Someone said, “Change the schedule once more.” I wrote, “The schedule can’t be changed! Hopefully, there will happen some miracle and I’ll manage to avail the schedule in time.” A younger brother wrote, “Brother, you should go by taxi-cab. But you could try the bus once. Dhaka buses run quite well!” I replied, “Brother, I’m not surely making any attempt of getting on a bus! That’ll be horrible, you know. I was just seeking for a suggestion as I don’t know about the route. Thanks for the suggestion. I think a CNG powered taxi can help me in this regard. A taxi-cab is prone to getting stuck up in the congestion forever. A bike could be a better solution. But, I can’t manage it.”

Mrs. Zohra, whose name was Ira—an extremely distinguished lady—commented, “You need a bike?” “That would be wonderful.” “Alright, let me see what I can do.” She was the Deputy Managing Director of ONE Bank. After completing her studies in Chemistry from Chittagong University, she had done her MBA from IBA. She worked in the corporate sector, but there were very few people who didn’t know her. I have a sister. Her name is Sharmin Muiz Khan. At that time, she was one of those rare souls who loved someone as insignificant as me far more than necessary, showered me with affection for no particular reason. She was almost my mother’s age, but I addressed her as ‘tumi’ and she called me ‘tui’. She had studied English Literature at Dhaka University. She particularly loved my writing. She was a business magnate and had connections with many prominent people. I have rarely seen a lady as distinguished, refined, elegant, and utterly graceful as her. She commented, “Bappi, someone needs to grab you and give you a good thrashing. Are you enjoying confusing everyone by calling them all the time? Please stop wasting your time browsing Facebook and concentrate on tomorrow’s exam. Otherwise, you’re calling for another disaster. There is a saying: ‘Que sera, sera’ meaning: Whatever will be, will be. So, pray and try your best. I have given this opinion after a lot of serious thoughts. Please follow it. You will leave here right now. I don’t want to see you making even one more comment! MIRACLES HAPPEN IF YOU BELIEVE IN YOURSELF!” I replied, “Didi, things are that they’re. Things will be that they will be. And, between this two there lie some miracles that we’re never aware of. And, miracles are often stranger than facts. Facts are because they’re. Miracles are because we or someone else wants them to be. That’s the truth!” She called Mrs. Zohra. She said, “Look Ira, my brother has gotten into a bit of trouble. The poor thing is a simple soul, we should do something for him. Can’t you arrange a bike for him?” A little while later, I saw a message from Mrs. Zohra in my inbox: “Please give me your contact number. Regards” I gave it immediately. The call came within seconds. After introducing herself, she said, “You need a bike Monday at 4 PM, right?” “That would be wonderful.” “OK, a bike will be there for you at 4. My colleague Romel will pick you. Alright?” “I am truly, truly grateful. Thank you so very much!” “Let’s get the work done first, then you can thank me. I’m texting you Romel’s number. Take care.” She hung up immediately. I wrote to her: “Life is stranger than fiction, I repeat. From myself, I’ve got much less than I truly deserve. From others, I’ve got much more than I truly deserve. Is it the thing that they call miracle? I don’t know and never try to know. I let miracles happen and thankfully they always happen . . . . . . . Thank you for your generous approach. This really means a lot to me.” I wrote my piece. I don’t know if she ever read it or had the time to read it. Noble souls don’t wait for thanks. Besides, she was truly, truly busy.

He was the head of the credit section at One Bank. He had no reason to know a nobody like me, yet he knew me through my writing. Otherwise, I would never have had the privilege of speaking with him directly. And the fact that Sharmin didi had spoken to him about me—that was a big deal too. The next day was the Bangladesh Affairs Paper 2 exam. I went to sleep without studying any of it. The day after, straight from the exam hall, I went to the Westex showroom at Probortak intersection. My life’s first interview. I was incredibly excited! I had decided I’d go to the interview board wearing everything brand new. I bought a formal white shirt, black pants, black tie, black belt, black socks, white undershirt, and brown shoes. Later, from Gallery Apex I bought formal Oxford shoes, and from Time Zone a Titan wristwatch, then returned home in the evening. Seeing my antics, Ma was laughing. “Ma, why are you laughing?” “Just because, dear.” The funny thing was, Ma went with me to the exam hall every single day. She always kept me close, just like a child. Ma said, “Tomorrow I’m going to the airport with you.” And she did go—despite my protests.

Monday, the 17th. International Affairs exam. I couldn’t stay in the exam hall for the entire time due to nerves. I don’t have a car, what if the CNG takes too long to reach the airport! What if I miss the flight! The flight was at 3:20. And it takes at least 2 hours to reach the airport from Omar Gani MES College by 1 PM. Our written exam had been during winter. In the bitter cold, my fingers would freeze. Still, I kept rubbing my palms together to warm them, blowing hot breath into the hollow of my cupped hands, and wrote with all my strength. Instead of 1 o’clock, I finished the exam at 12:30, submitted my paper, and rushed out. When I emerged from the hall and reached the gate, everyone thought I must have been expelled! The intense stress was clearly written all over my face. Many showed me sympathy, told me not to worry, advised me to do better in the next BCS. I didn’t have time to respond. What could I say anyway—at that moment, life itself was one giant question mark for me! I don’t know what strength possessed my mother. She ran almost twice as fast as me, covering the distance from the college campus to the road. We got into a CNG without bargaining, paying nearly one and a half times the normal fare. I told the driver, “However you manage it, get us to the airport within two hours. If necessary, I’ll pay you extra.” It was 12:50 on the clock. The CNG started speeding. Mother opened the tiffin box and fed me khichuri, meat, and fried egg. One thought kept spinning in my head: “Will I catch the plane? If we get stuck in traffic, it’s all over!” I took off my sweater. I had left home that morning wearing my viva outfit, everything except the tie. After escaping two minor traffic jams, when we reached the airport, it was 5 minutes to 3. As soon as I got down, I touched my mother’s and aunt’s feet in respect (a distant aunt had come with us since mother couldn’t return home from the airport alone) and ran to the counter. There I learned that the flight was delayed by an hour due to dense fog. I thought, if the plane leaves at that time, there’s no way I can reach IBA by 5:15. I informed the counter staff about this. They said there was nothing they could do; they were very sorry. I inquired and learned that no other flights were departing at that time either. At that moment, I felt utterly helpless, just wanting to cry. I felt like I had no one, no one at all! I kept going from counter to counter. I found out there was a Bangladesh Biman flight departing at 3:45. There was no other flight before that. It was a bigger plane, taking 30 minutes to reach, whereas other planes take at least 40 minutes. Meaning, I would reach Dhaka airport by 4:15! I bought the ticket right then. There was great hope in my heart—if this one leaves on time, there’s nothing more to worry about. I went to the airport restroom and quickly put on my tie. I adjusted my shirt once more. Looking in the mirror, I fixed my hair with my hand. The clock hand crossed 4 after passing 3:45. The plane was delayed due to fog. We all boarded the plane at 4:15. It was my first time on a plane. I kept thinking, when will it take off, when will it take off! Every second felt like an hour! The tension was making it hard to breathe, yet the plane wouldn’t take off. I thought, oh! If only I could spend all my strength to make this plane soar into the sky! I pressed my handkerchief over my eyes to hide my tears. Finally, the plane took off. It was 4:37 on the clock. I was thinking, oh!

The plane could have taken off directly without taxiing! At least a couple of minutes would have been saved! The plane landed on Dhaka’s runway at 5:13.

I burst out of the domestic terminal running with all my might, and gasping for breath, I saw a motorcycle come to a stop right in front of me. “You’re Sushanta, right? Get on the back!” I extended my hand to shake hands with the young man in the black helmet. He didn’t raise his black-gloved right fist for a handshake. “Time’s wasting, brother! Please get on! Quick!” I didn’t argue further. “You’re not used to riding bikes, are you?” “Yes. How did you know?” “Brother, I’ve been riding bikes for the past 18-20 years. I can tell.” “I see.” “Lean forward and press your chest firmly against my back! You can even wrap your arms around me, otherwise you’ll get thrown off. For sure! I’m going to ride fast.” The way that bike tore out of the airport—I don’t have the courage to even think about it today. Under normal circumstances, I might have screamed in fear and told him to stop, or I really would have been thrown off. But at that moment I knew that being afraid was important, but far more important was reaching IBA alive. I don’t know if the wheels of that 150cc bike actually touched the ground that day, but for the second time in my life I understood this truth: you cannot frighten someone who stakes their life to touch their dreams. I had only seen bikes racing so recklessly on the roads in movies. The bike was literally cutting through the whooshing sound of wind, as if flying through the air! “Say brother, are you somebody really important?” “What do you mean?” “Well, Madam told me that one of her very important friends had to be delivered from the airport to IBA within half an hour, no matter what. That was her order! Who are you, brother? Hahahaha………” “I’m Madam’s Facebook friend.” “What are you saying, man? How’s that possible! I was thinking even more… you mean you’ve never even met her?” “No, brother. Why?” (There’s a railway crossing ahead. The barrier is coming down.) “Brother, duck your head a little.” Saying this, he quickly rode the bike under the barrier without obeying the signal. Many people behind us were shouting for us to stop. “Brother, just don’t be afraid. Nothing will happen. You can close your eyes if you want.” Right at that moment, while quickly emerging from between two trucks standing side by side, he said, “Sit a bit smaller, brother!” A little further ahead—massive traffic jam at a signal! Romel bhai lifted the bike onto the sidewalk. “Brother, please give way a little, give way a little,” he kept saying as he raced forward. He had to do this several times. Sometimes when riding on the central divider in the middle of the road, traffic police would catch us, and he’d say in a tearful voice, “Sir, my aunt is fighting for her life in the medical college. I’m going to donate blood. O-negative blood—we can’t find any. If I don’t reach on time, we won’t be able to save my aunt, sir!” He’d manage the police with this story and then race off at the same speed again! Whenever there was a traffic jam on the road, he’d immediately change to another road. That day I learned that when obstacles appear on the road, it doesn’t mean there is no road. Rather, it means you have to take a different road! Right now!! I had only seen such daredevil biking in Hollywood action movies. Looking at my hair in the bike’s mirror, it seemed as if it had stood up straight after an electric shock! My face was covered with dust from the city. In the fierce wind, my tie was flying behind me in the air. I don’t know if anyone has ever seen a bike race so recklessly through Dhaka’s roads during rush hour. But for some reason, I truly wasn’t afraid at all. I kept thinking over and over, “How quickly can one reach IBA!” Romel bhai had finished his honors and master’s from Dhaka College before joining the bank. I had asked him, “What’s your designation at the bank?” He had joked, “Not much, just 14 more promotions and I’ll be able to sit in Zohra Madam’s chair. Hahaha…….”

When I arrived in front of IBA, my watch showed 5:52. As I got down, I saw my younger brother Pappu and his friend Arefin standing there. At that time, I had my gift shop ‘Dobhana.’ Pappu and Arefin were my working partners. They often came to Dhaka from Chawk Bazaar in Old Dhaka to buy wholesale goods for the shop. I had withdrawn myself from the shop to focus on my BCS exam preparation. They ran everything. They were already in Dhaka on shop business. I had told them to go to the IBA MBA program office and keep me updated by phone about the viva board situation. Through repeated conversations with them, I was checking whether the interview board was still there, asking them to go to the program office and explain that I couldn’t arrive on time due to flight delays, terrible traffic jams, and so on. As soon as I got down, they informed me, “Bhaiya, the board left 4-5 minutes ago. Now only the Executive MBA viva remains.” After introducing them to Romel bhai, I rushed up to the MBA program office on the second floor. As soon as they saw me, everyone there stopped their work and looked at me. I saw Rahi Sir busy with something; he didn’t respond to my greeting. “Sir, I’m very late. Despite trying hard, I couldn’t arrive on time. I…” Without giving me a chance to say anything more, he shouted, “You Idiot! Get out!” “Sir, I…” “I said, Get out! Out! Out!! I knew very well that you wouldn’t be able to come on time. Is it possible to take one exam in Chittagong and then come to Dhaka for another exam? That easy? You’ve just wasted my time! I had told everyone that a boy from Chittagong would come at 5:15, and we needed to take his viva. Did you think I am a joker?” “Sir, I came here with great difficulty. The flight was delayed, there was heavy traffic on the road. I really…” “It’s none of my business! Get out! Go back where you came from.” “Sir, I had many dreams of studying at IBA.” “Everyone on the street has such dreams. I gave you a chance but you missed it. That’s all! Get out of here.” “Sir, please have some mercy…” (I felt like falling at his feet and crying…) Right beside him sat a gentle-looking gentleman much younger than the sir. He said, “Sir, I’ve heard about him. His younger brother kept coming to our program office. They had been standing in front of the office for hours. His flight was indeed delayed. And there’s heavy traffic in Dhaka today too. A friend of mine came to my room from the airport a while ago; it took him a long time to get here too. Give him a chance, Sir. He’s come so far, taking such risks with great difficulty! He apparently has another written exam tomorrow too. The poor fellow has to return to Chittagong today itself.” “Son, you junior faculty members don’t even know what you’re saying, what kind of requests you make. Why are you pleading for him? Is he your relative or something?” “No no Sir, I’m seeing him for the first time today. Just look at his face once, Sir. He’s really come here with great difficulty. Please do him a favor, Sir.” “You have no idea what you are talking about! Will the Executive MBA viva be the same as theirs? They have 3 years of job experience, while these are just children in comparison!

“This won’t be possible, brother. I am sorry!” “Sir, please help the poor fellow a bit. He’s come such a long way with so much hope!” “Son, we can’t manage anything more for you!” I stood a little distance away, head bowed. Looking at me, he called out loudly, “Hey, stupid! Why are you standing there like a donkey? Go on, go to the third floor! Go and stand there absolutely quietly. We’ll call you.” I truly couldn’t understand whether such a beautiful moment had ever come anywhere in this world before! Tears began streaming down my face. I prayed again and again from my heart for Babu sir. Rahi sir seemed like a father figure to me. I kept remembering mother’s words: “Never get angry at teachers’ scolding. When teachers scold, it means blessings.” Overwhelmed with emotion, as I was about to leave after thanking and saluting the teachers, Rahi sir called from behind, “Hey crazy boy! Comb your hair before entering the board! Wash your face at the basin! Don’t be so scared! Hahaha…” I couldn’t say anything more. I kept staring blankly at sir’s face. My cheeks were wet with tears from both eyes. Babu sir placed his hand on my shoulder and said, “Go on, go upstairs and wait. We are not that much bad people as you thought us to be. Sometimes even the IBA faculties are too good! Freshen up, give your interview properly, now there’s no tension anymore. What’s your exam tomorrow?” “Sir, Mathematical Reasoning and Mental Ability.” “How will you go?” “Sir, I have a return plane ticket.” “Good! Brother, splash some water on your eyes and face to fix your appearance. Give your viva quickly and rush to the airport! Good luck!” At that moment I felt like touching sir’s feet in salute. People get frightened by sudden intense love. For the first time, it suddenly struck me: “What if I can’t honor this love of my teachers? What if I don’t get a chance at IBA in the end?”

When we find ourselves in trouble, if our intentions are pure, a way out always emerges! I went to the washroom on the third floor and tried my best to “make myself presentable” by wetting my hair and smoothing it down. After splashing water on my face, I went and waited in front of the notice board. I was called after 10 minutes. It was nearly seven o’clock. When I entered the room, I saw many faculty members seated there. I hadn’t known that so many would be present for an interview. I thought this was perhaps how IBA interviews were conducted. I later learned that this entire panel had been assembled just for me. Apart from Babu Sir and Rahi Sir, I didn’t recognize anyone else. After getting admitted, I realized that those present that evening were IBA’s most senior and accomplished faculty members. The board included Saiful Majid Sir, Shama-e-Zahir Sir, Mamun Sir, Munir Khosru Sir, Niaz Sir, and Saif Noman Khan Sir. Most of the junior faculty had finished their interviews and gone home, while some senior faculty were in their offices conducting Executive MBA interviews. Some of them had been specially called in. I was in the interview for about 18-20 minutes. Many of the faculty members knew about my situation that day. I had heard of something called “divine possession” in life. At certain special moments, due to particular external influences or circumstances, people suddenly gain extraordinary power. In those moments, they step outside their normal state and display different behavior. They can harness the utmost potential of their inner infinite strength. In that wondrous balanced fusion of emotion and capability, the best version of themselves emerges. From the moment I entered the interview room, I had very likely become a different person, or perhaps the very best ‘me’ from within had emerged that day. By what divine signal this happened, I don’t know. No hesitation, doubt, nervousness, fear, the day’s exhaustion, or lethargy was affecting me at all. I felt incredibly composed and light as a feather. It felt as though whatever I was saying or doing was the best possible. I was experiencing the finest moment of my life right then and there. I can say with complete honesty that the style in which I spoke English that day—I have never in my entire life, even to this day, been able to speak English so flawlessly and fluently. That day the faculty members engaged in various kinds of humor during the interview. They were having great fun with me. Most likely, the faculty wanted to “shake me up” somehow. I don’t know why, by whose indication I don’t know, but I kept answering all their questions one by one with a very cool head and a smile that day. They interviewed me in English on various diverse topics, starting from describing the entire day’s events and the preceding Facebook incidents to many other subjects. (Of course, at IBA there’s absolutely no opportunity to give interviews in Bengali.) Why I wanted to pursue an MBA, why IBA if I was going to take government job exams anyway, my weaknesses, whether I’d ever been in love, how I spend my leisure time, some conversation about reading books, various economic issues of Bangladesh, some personal and family matters, my future plans, the breathless motorcycle journey from A to Z, the BCS examination system, why I went into engineering despite having no interest, why I delayed my honors degree, why I didn’t study properly, why my CGPA was so low, what I like to eat, what kind of personality I prefer in people, what I know about IBA, some current affairs, and several other questions. I was answering very quickly in correct English. The faculty praised this too. I gave a very simple, straightforward, and candid interview. I didn’t speak a single false word that day.

I didn’t need to think before speaking—whatever came to mind, I simply said, so there was no chance to fabricate lies. At the end, they asked me to sing a song. When I said, “I can’t, Sir,” Babu Sir showed me my info-form and laughed, saying, “But you’ve claimed so.” I had written Reading, Writing, Singing in the hobbies section… At that moment, it felt like I was living the best day of my life. I sang, “Aaj ei dintake…” “I see, we’re getting a singer for our cultural program!” As Saiful Majid Sir was saying this, Babu Sir interjected, “Sir, he has another exam tomorrow. He’ll probably be flying back to Chittagong tonight.” Then three or four teachers exclaimed in unison, “What! He’s going back to Chittagong right now? Well then, run along, run along! Go downstairs and see if your superman biker is there! Hahahaha…” As I was leaving with my salaam, the teachers called out, “Best of luck for your tomorrow’s exam.” I kept thinking, again and again—I’ll make it, I’ll make it! (Even after giving the BCS viva, I didn’t feel this good.)

When I stepped out of IBA, it was half past seven on the clock. I knew there was no way I could catch the 7:45 flight. I also knew that I had no idea how I would get to Chittagong that night. I didn’t even feel like thinking about it. Only the exhilarating rush of having given a good exam was coursing through me. Pappu and Arefin had been waiting for me at Madhu’s canteen. Taking them along, I went to the front of Dhaka University’s Central Library and leisurely began eating vegetable pakoras and tea. Many of my students studied in various departments at Dhaka University. Quite a few came to see me. They were asking what questions had been asked in the interview. After a day of incredible experiences, my head had become almost entirely empty. I couldn’t understand why I wasn’t feeling the slightest urgency to return to Chittagong. Pappu asked, “Brother, will you take the night bus?” I said, “Yes, that could work.” (It amuses me now to think how casually I had said ‘that could work’!) The road conditions weren’t good then either, there were always traffic jams. It didn’t even occur to me—what would happen if I couldn’t reach by 10 AM tomorrow? Ripon, a dear younger brother who lived in Chittagong and was one of my former students, said, “Brother, I have a non-AC train ticket; for Turna Nishitha, leaving tonight. It doesn’t matter if I don’t go to Chittagong today. Brother, you take it.” “Alright, fine,” I said, took the ticket, and set off toward Kamalapur Station. That night the train left nearly an hour and a half late. I didn’t even want to think about what was going to happen! I had already surrendered myself to fate long before. In my mind I kept repeating only this: whatever will be, will be. Whether I want it or not, it will happen. And whatever is happening is surely for the good; whatever will happen will surely be for the good too. Let’s see! After the day’s exhaustion, I had a very peaceful sleep. Suddenly I woke up hearing commotion around me. The train had stopped at Comilla. Apparently there was some problem with the line. We were delayed there for nearly two and a quarter hours. I couldn’t understand why I wasn’t feeling any kind of anxiety! I fell asleep again. Sleep is the world’s only faithful lover. Whenever I want it, I find it near. Never, under any circumstances, does it abandon me. There can be no purer love than the love for sleep.

When the train reached Chittagong railway station the next day, it was a quarter to ten in the morning. My exam was scheduled to start at ten. It takes only fifteen minutes to get from the station to my house. When I got home, I found my mother sitting there with everything ready in her hands—my pencil box, board, scale, pen, calculator, admit card, registration card, all of it. My parents had been terribly anxious at home. I hadn’t been able to speak to them since after half past one at night. My mobile had run out of charge. (I was using a cheap Nokia 1100 mobile set back then. Everyone called it the “national set”! It was so sturdy that many would joke, “Dude, you could crack jackfruit with that phone!” I’d tease my friends who used expensive mobiles, saying, “My phone’s model is ‘N Eleven Zero Zero’!”) As soon as my mother saw me, she said, “Dear, how are you? Will you take today’s exam?” I felt emotionally numb. It seemed as though I was lighter than a feather at that moment, floating around in some kind of trance! I smiled and said, “Ma, I’m perfectly fine. I’ll take the exam.” Saying this, I took the packed shopping bag from my mother’s hands and left the house just as I was. It was 10:05 on the clock. From our house to the exam center, it takes at least thirty minutes by CNG during office hours. When I reached the college gate, it was 10:43. That day was the mathematical reasoning and mental ability test. The first two hours were mathematical reasoning, followed by one hour of mental ability. The exam had already started forty-three minutes earlier. Naturally, the police wouldn’t let me enter. I pleaded extensively, kept trying futilely to explain what had happened, but they weren’t willing to listen to anything. But I had made up my mind—I wasn’t going to turn back, I would get inside no matter what. A small commotion started gathering there. Seeing the crowd, the magistrate came over. After hearing my entire story, he said, “You only have one hour left. Can you finish all the math problems in this time?” Without a moment’s hesitation, I said, “I can, sir!” “Alright, go ahead. Good luck!” My heart overflowed with gratitude toward him. At that moment, he seemed to me not human, but divine! I went in, looked at the questions, took the exam. I even showed three problems to the person sitting next to me. (He got a job in Audit and Accounts in the 30th batch.) I scored 98 on that day’s exam—50 in math, 48 in mental ability. After that… well, as everyone says—the rest is history!

But this much is true: had that day’s exam been something other than mathematics, I would have been in real trouble. I can handle math because the type of problems that appeared in the BCS written exam back then weren’t particularly difficult for me to solve. Such problems don’t strain the mind much, and the 30th BCS written exam featured relatively easy math. Even if I worked through each step carefully and added side notes, it shouldn’t have taken more than half an hour. It didn’t for me either. However, spending two and a half hours on the International Affairs exam the day before had been risky. Actually, no matter how incredible the whole affair might seem, everything appears to have been predetermined by the Creator or nature itself. What remains inexplicable to our limited understanding is simply a natural, ordinary occurrence for the Creator. All our failures and successes are already decided beforehand. But to reach that point, the effort—or making the right decision at the right time—that we must do ourselves. I wasn’t even supposed to pass my undergraduate degree. Yet it was my destiny to complete my undergraduate studies, become a BCS cadre, study at IBA—all of it was written in my fate. Had my destiny been bound elsewhere, I would have gone there instead. I had enrolled in another master’s program under Dhaka University—MDS. After continuing that course for three months, I left it of my own accord. They had said I would need to officially hide the fact that I was simultaneously pursuing another master’s at IBA. I refused to lie. I harbor no regret about this, though. I’ve accepted that pursuing that particular master’s degree simply wasn’t written in my destiny. This is the truth, this is reality. I had gained admission to Dhaka University’s Evening MBA program in Finance, ranking sixth on the merit list, but never had to attend classes there. I received my IBA admission test results before that. I did complete my master’s in Finance from Dhaka University, but the Evening MBA program wasn’t destined for me, so I didn’t pursue my master’s degree from there.

Stepping into two boats in the middle of a river ensures certain death. Logic dictates this. But I placed my feet in two boats, taking the maximum risk—I had no other choice—yet both boats moved forward in parallel at the same speed at the same time, so I didn’t slip between them and lose my life. What explanation could there be for this? Life doesn’t follow logic; life follows the Creator’s signals. Life doesn’t always operate according to explanations. Sometimes life moves on faith. So there’s nothing to say about anyone’s personal philosophy and the life they live according to their beliefs, as long as that life doesn’t interfere with someone else’s way of living. Somewhere, no explicable form of life can be seen, and life is just like this!

Through sheer mental strength alone, I had believed that some miracle would surely occur. It did happen, because in Providence’s master plan, that’s what was meant to happen. Everything in between was the Creator’s games or plans to test my patience and concentration. You will never be given a gift you don’t deserve. You will be tested, and if you fail to pass that test, you will deprive yourself of the Creator’s grace through your own fault. I’m sharing with you the Facebook status I posted after the IBA admission test results came out, along with a couple of my own comments on it:

Friends, I’ve been finally selected for admission into the MBA Program of IBA, Dhaka University. …… feeling happy. ……. HATS OFF to Sharmeen didi, Ira madam & Romel bhai!!

# My dear friends….. Your gorgeous presence on my wall makes me think twice about the POWER of friendship & the MAGIC of love. YES……… They matter!! I just want to be with you forever. Please never say GOODBYE…. It hurts!! Your kindness and care mean a lot to me. You’ve always given me much more than I really deserve. Please accept my sincere GRATITUDE.

Happy Social Networking!!

Long live Facebook!!

My best wishes for our Friendship!!

……… Love you all ……

# (To one of my close friends) Dost, not reaching the Interview Session on 17 January at 5:30 pm was what I thought to be….. reaching there in time was what was written in my DESTINY….. And, I ended up calling it a MIRACLE, something I never believed in before…… Just have a look at the schedule of 17 January……

International Affairs Exam (BCS written exam)…. 10:00 am — 1:00 pm

The departure time of the GMG Airlines: 3:20 pm, there was a delay of about 1 hour due to fog and I availed another delayed flight of Bangladesh Biman at 4:37 pm.

The plane landed on Dhaka Airport at 5:13 pm and then I started my fight against time to meet the deadline by bike with Romel bhai!! Who managed those three saviours (Sharmeen didi, Ira madam & Romel bhai) for me? I don’t know. You better ask the Heaven! I saw such a breath-taking motor-bike driving only in English movies. Before that day, I had never thought I would experience it!!

Life is sometimes stranger than fiction . . . . Who can tell it better than I?

# (To one of my senior high-profile Indian friends) Thank you Sir for your words of felicitation. IBA of Dhaka University is considered as the most prestigious institute for doing MBA in Bangladesh. As per the rules of that Business School, the Major/Field of Specialization is allowed to be chosen at the final semester judging the academic records & intention of a candidate. I don’t have much idea about what to choose and why to choose. Please share some ideas on it as you’ve huge practical knowledge (so far as I know) about the present corporate trend.

You’ve nicely stated the trend of our careerist B-school graduates. No one really cares about their own aptitude, rather, tries to be what market wants them to be. Personally, I always like the decision-making and mainstream operational sections of giant companies. And, probably I’ll go for finance as my major when I’ve to choose it in my final semester. Yes, my semester results must be well enough to work on my advantage. That’ll be a story of one and a half years later. Till then, I’ll have to undergo the generalized curriculum as my B-school formulates. The recent economic recession worries our friends studying at the US universities. And, almost all of them suggest me not to plan of staying there. But at the same time, they suggest me completing my PhD in the US if I want to and grab that opportunity. Let’s wait and see. . . . . Are you in India now? Hope you’re quite OK along with your busy schedule. Please, sometimes give me your valuable suggestions when you’ve time and you’re here on Facebook. . . . . Thank you once again for your helpful advice. Take care.

In explaining the final part of the status shared above, I had written these words:

Let me share the Story behind the Story and elucidate the last part of my status. It would have been quite impossible for me to reach Dhaka University from Dhaka International Airport within just 50 minutes (!!) to attend the interview session of IBA in time on Jan 17, but for the cordial help of Sharmeen didi (Sharmeen Muiz) & Ira madam (Johora Bebe Ira). They’re the persons who made that miracle happen!! And, Romel bhai (Monirul Alam Romel) is the “Man with the Bike” who dared fight against time to meet the deadline!! ……. I feel honoured to express my heartfelt gratitude to these three saviours. …….. Miracles Happen When You Believe!!

I conclude this piece with a beautifully strange comment Sharmeen didi made on that status: “My prayers, good wishes, and prayers remain with you. Dear brother of mine, may you grow to great heights. And may the successful reflection of our efforts (Ira’s and mine) shine through in everything you do. I was there, I am here, I will be there. …….. Heaps of hugs and love.”

What sustains a human being? We live on love, on prayers, on good wishes. These are what keep me alive—quite well alive, in fact. My gratitude!

P.S. Let me offer you some practical wisdom. Those who think they know too much, who consider themselves supremely intelligent, who speak in grand terms without any real qualifications or notable position, who try to diminish others even through outright lies, who pontificate without knowledge, who speak to you in such a manner that you begin to doubt your own confidence—I would advise you to absolutely, absolutely, and absolutely avoid such people. They themselves cannot go very far in life, nor will they allow you to go very far either.

(Written 2-3 years ago)

I have been meaning to write this piece for at least the past four years. Due to my characteristic laziness, it remained buried among my lost writings all this time. Unable to let it slip away entirely, I have resolved today to begin writing with the firm determination that, no matter how difficult it becomes, I will not leave this chair until it is finished. The trouble with not writing when one should is that the emotion and enthusiasm of that moment are lost, and often the writing fails to come alive. However, there are many exceptions to this. Sanjibchandra Chattopadhyay, the elder brother of Bankimchandra Chattopadhyay, worked for quite some time as a Deputy Magistrate in the exquisitely beautiful, remote forest region of Palamau. Many years later, he wrote ‘Palamau,’ a work born of memory and reflection. For those who have not yet read ‘Palamau,’ I will say just one thing to convey what kind of writing it is: when Bishwa Sahitya Kendra began its publishing work, everyone at the center was perplexed about which among so many masterpieces of world literature should be printed first. It was then that Abdullah Abu Sayeed decided that the first book published by Bishwa Sahitya Kendra would be ‘Palamau.’ But let me return to what I was saying. To discuss why writing intended to be written often never materializes would be to commit great injustice to oneself and others. So I shall not venture into that discussion. However, regarding this particular piece, I will only say this much: when attempting to describe one of life’s most incredible events, my hands tremble with excitement, memories blur, and a fear pervades my entire being—what would today have been like if everything that day had unfolded differently? I keep thinking that today would not have been anything like today. Today I would have been someone else entirely. Everything around me would have seemed like something else altogether. The truth is, life does not unfold the way we imagine it will. Life unfolds as life does. The color of life appears one way in imagination, but the actual color is different. Even if we think we will spend our lives playing with life itself, it does not necessarily follow that life will pass in precisely that manner. What will happen and what will not—all of this is predetermined. Our task is simply to perform brilliantly on this stage in our own way. The more skillful one’s performance, the more intimately one tastes the flavor of life.

The 30th BCS written examination began on January 11, 2011, and concluded on January 23. On the evening of Wednesday the 12th, I checked the IBA website at Dhaka University and discovered that I was among those who had passed the written portion of the MBA program admission test for the 45th batch. The candidates who passed the written exam would be divided into several groups for interviews, and my group was scheduled for Monday, January 17, at 10 AM at IBA. I had taken the BCS examination from Chittagong, where the PSC-designated examination center for Chittagong candidates was Omar Gani MES College. On the day of my IBA interview, the International Affairs exam was also scheduled to begin at 10 AM. Attending an exam at Dhaka University at the same time was simply impossible. I knew that IBA didn’t offer many second chances. Having secured this opportunity, I couldn’t imagine myself foolish or generous enough to let it slip away. Instead of studying for the next day’s Bangladesh Affairs Paper I, I began calling everyone I knew who had studied at IBA or was familiar with it. I still remember the intense excitement of that time. When something you desperately want comes within reach, yet circumstances force you to let it go—staying calm in such a moment is nearly impossible. Everyone I spoke with on the phone said the same thing: “You can’t have two good things at once. You’ll have to give up one of them. If you try to keep a foot in both boats, you’ll end up with neither. Besides, you can take the BCS exam again, and you can also take the IBA admission test again. Let go of one.” Those who valued the corporate sector highly told me to abandon BCS. Those who valued the civil service told me to pursue IBA later. No one could suggest a way to manage both. At that moment, neither option seemed bigger or smaller to me—my mind had gone completely blank, and I felt as though life was playing a game of Snakes and Ladders with me. The dice might roll such a number that I’d end up in the belly of a snake—but then again, it might not. Sometimes the number that comes up sends you climbing a ladder high above. Life’s Snakes and Ladders board doesn’t contain only snakes—there are ladders too! Who’s to say this throw won’t land on a ladder? Life is indeed like Snakes and Ladders, where the highest number isn’t necessarily the best. Perhaps I’d roll two sixes and then a five—totaling seventeen, the highest possible—yet still end up sliding down a long snake. But equally possible: rolling the smallest number, just one, and finding myself climbing rapidly up a ladder to great heights. Understanding the game of less is the most difficult thing of all! The highest number isn’t always the best. You must see how much is actually needed. Great income, great torment—what need is there for such a large sum? Knowing how to choose the right number for your life is a great art indeed!

I thought, why should I surrender before I’ve even lost? I’ll see this through to the end. At home, my parents were also saying, “Give up one of them.” My heart was telling me, “I won’t give up, not for anything!” Let me gamble with life this once and see what happens! You have to listen to your heart. I called the MBA Program Office. Zakir bhai was in charge there. He said, “IBA’s schedule doesn’t change for anyone. You change your schedule.” I said, “That’s not possible. You have several slots. BCS has only one.” Even after that he said, “It’s not possible in any way. We’re sorry!” Saying this, he hung up the phone, and my stubbornness only grew stronger. I put aside studying for the next day’s exam. After some inquiries, I learned that Rahi Sir was the Program Chairman for IBA’s MBA at the time. Only he could change my interview slot if he wanted to. Rahi Sir is an incredibly fierce person. IBA’s Marketing Department is the best in Bangladesh. Rahi Sir is the best faculty in that department. I got his number. The person I got the number from asked, “Are you really going to call Rahi Sir?” “Yes. Why?” “We students never dare to call Sir. And you’re going to call him for this?” “I will. I have to. My back is against the wall.” “God bless you, man! You better think twice.” I said, “Sometimes life doesn’t give you the opportunity to think twice. It’s the first and the only chance! I must grab it before it’s too late! I will call him. I’ll make my attempt—if it works, it works; if not, so be it. If I don’t try, it definitely won’t work. Thank you, bhai!” Right after finishing that conversation, without any second thoughts, I called Rahi Sir. A man with an extremely serious voice. It’s frightening just to speak with him. But I have nothing left to lose. I only know this: I passed IBA’s written exam and IBA has to conduct my interview. I had truly become reckless. I blurted out my entire problem in one breath. Rahi Sir said, “You silly kid! You’ve dared to call Rahi Sir for this! Did you think I am your friend? It’s not my business whether you can attend the viva board or not. You have only 2 choices: Leave IBA, or, Leave BCS.” To my infinite amazement, I heard myself saying, “Sir, I have called you to hear about the third choice. If you don’t have that, please make it for me. I know I’ll be at IBA.” Sir said very loudly over the phone, “You are a stupid little boy. You just know nothing about the things here! Don’t waste my time. I am busy!” “Sir, please give me a chance. I am………” I couldn’t make him hear any more—he hung up before that. I couldn’t understand what had happened, only felt an even stronger desire to believe that I would definitely study at IBA. BCS seemed to fade for a moment. Whatever happens in tomorrow’s exam will happen. Right now I need to sort out the IBA situation first. I called the program office again.

I asked, “When can I actually meet Rahi sir?” “What do you mean?” “Sir told me to come see him.” “Ask sir himself when you can actually meet him.” (I mustered the courage to lie….) “Sir said to call the program office and find out.” “He told you to ask us? Really! Alright, stay on the line, let me check sir’s class schedule.” Zakir bhai informed me that if I came next Friday evening, I could meet sir. Saying “thank you very much,” I hung up the phone and immediately left home to buy a bus ticket. From near Gariullah Shah’s shrine in Chittagong, I bought a ticket on Unique’s non-AC bus to Dhaka for Thursday night. The next day, under tremendous mental pressure, I took my Bangladesh Studies Paper 1 exam. Even in the exam hall, my mind kept racing: “Will Rahi sir keep his word?” In my answer sheet, I mistakenly wrote the word “Rahi” several times, though I crossed it out later.

I arrived at IBA before afternoon on Friday. I stood waiting in front of the MBA Program Office. Zakir bhai wasn’t there at the time—he came in the evening, two hours later. I went up and introduced myself. “Oh, I see, you’ve come from Chittagong. Rahi sir mentioned he would speak with you about changing your interview schedule? Really??” “Yes, he told me to come see him!” We were talking when Rahi sir arrived shortly after. He went straight through the program office into his room. A dignified man of serious disposition. His office was right next to the program office. Zakir bhai said, “Please sit on the sofa. Let me ask sir if he’s free right now.” When he told sir, “Someone named Sushanta Pal has come from Chittagong to see you—you had asked him to come,” sir immediately shouted quite loudly, “I didn’t ask anyone to come see me! Tell him to leave. Disgusting!” Zakir bhai told me, “Sir won’t see you. You should go.” “I’ll leave, but only after meeting with sir. Brother, I haven’t come here to turn back. I must see him.” Almost forcefully, I entered sir’s room without permission. After I said very politely, “Assalamu alaikum, sir,” he returned the greeting and said, “What do you want?” There were several other students in the room who had come to sir for various matters. “Sir, I called you the day before yesterday evening.” “Is it my duty to remember your call? Get out!” I said nothing and stood there with my head bowed. The words “Get out!” didn’t register in my mind. At that moment, I only knew that I would speak with Rahi sir about changing the schedule, and sir would surely agree to do so. After standing like this for nearly half an hour, sir said, “Why are you standing here like a statue?” I fearfully placed an application about changing the time slot on sir’s desk and began to say, “Sir, the day before yesterday I spoke with you on the phone…” “Speak in the language I am using now.” “Sir, my interview has been scheduled for next Monday at 10 in the morning. I am appearing for the 30th BCS written exam. I have an exam at the same time. So, I request you to shift my schedule to another convenient time slot.” “Sorry, we cannot.” “Please Sir! Otherwise, my dream to be here will be shattered.” “Let it be. Just go for BCS. You will do better being a civil servant.” “But Sir, it’s uncertain.” “Is being here certain for you?” “No Sir, that’s why I cannot leave any of these 2 opportunities. Please Sir, give me a chance. Do me a favour. I will be ever grateful, Sir.” “What time is your exam?” “10 o’clock, sir.” “How long?” “Three hours, sir.” “Okay fine, come straight here after your exam. Can you make it by 1:30?” I realized sir had forgotten that I’d come from Chittagong. “Sir, I’m taking the exam from Chittagong.” “Stupid! We cannot change our schedule for you! Are you Mr President?” “No Sir, I just want to be your student! I will do anything you tell me to do. Please give me a chance, Sir!” “Look, brother, you won’t be able to finish your exam at 1 o’clock and come from Chittagong to take the interview anyway.

You won’t make it even if you leave at 10 PM. The roads are in terrible condition, there’s heavy traffic.” “Sir, I can come in the evening.” “How? By plane?” “Yes, sir. Please give me a chance, sir.” “Alright. Don’t you have an exam the next day?” “I do, sir. I can manage. I’ll buy a return ticket.” “What time can you arrive?” “Whatever you say, sir.” “Your exam will end at 1 PM. Hmm… okay, can you make it to the 3 o’clock board?” “Yes sir, I can be there at 3.” “Do you know if there are flights at that time?” “I don’t know, sir. I’ll find out.” “I think there’s a flight around 3.” “What time can you arrive?” “4 o’clock, sir?” “Foolish boy! Your brain isn’t working. How can you take a 3 o’clock flight from Chittagong and get from the airport to IBA by 4? You have no idea about Dhaka city. Okay, you come by 5:15 sharp. You will be last person in that board. If you come after that, nothing can be done. The evening board is for Executive MBA. It won’t be possible to hold your viva there. Okay?” “Thank you, sir.” “Youngman, you have decided to play with your life! Best of luck!” “Please pray for me, sir. I can do this!” Tears came to my eyes. I realized that though this man appeared stern on the outside, he was very gentle within. I offered many prayers for the sir and left IBA. I went to Aziz and bought some books. Then I went to Fakirapul and took the 10 PM non-AC bus from Unique, reaching Chittagong in the morning.

I’m sharing the application with you:

15 January 2011

The Program Director, MBA Program

Institute of Business Administration

University of Dhaka

Dhaka

Subject: Prayer for changing the time slot of the interview schedule of the MBA Program Admission

Sir,

This letter expresses my earnest request to change my interview schedule of the MBA Program Admission 2010-2011. I am a candidate for Full-Time Course, my admit number is 2745 and I am on Interview Board 6 scheduled to be conducted at the 10:00 am to 1:00 pm time slot on January 17, 2011. I am appearing at the 30th BCS written examination and my Examination Centre is at Chittagong. I have an examination on January 17, 2011, coincided with the same time slot of the interview and so it is not possible for me to come from Chittagong and attend the interview at 10:00 am.

I will be highly obliged if you kindly permit me to attend the interview at the 6:00 pm to 8:30 pm time slot scheduled for Evening Board 3 and Evening Board 4 on January 17, 2011.

Yours faithfully

Sushanta Paul

I had never been on a plane before. I thought that wherever you go, you need a passport to fly. My elder brother called a friend who works with passport services and asked what documents are needed for an emergency passport to Dhaka. He burst out laughing! He said, “Buddy, what do you need a passport for? A plane and a bus are the same thing. One flies in the sky, the other runs on the road. That’s all there is to it! Just go buy a ticket. That’s it! Which one is good? You can go with GMG. That’s pretty good.” I didn’t know that you don’t have to rush to the airport to buy a plane ticket. I had no idea how much tickets cost. Getting off the bus in the morning, I went straight to a Dutch-Bangla Bank booth and withdrew ten thousand taka. Then I jumped into a CNG and rushed to the airport. I bought a ticket from the GMG Airlines counter for the 3:20 flight on Monday, the 17th. That was the first Chittagong-Dhaka flight of the afternoon. I booked a return ticket for the same day on the 7:45 evening flight. I felt like I could see it right before my eyes—me attending classes at IBA! Such a strange vision! I returned home with a victorious smile, almost as if I had already gotten into IBA! At night, I tried to prepare from various guides and the internet about what they might ask in the IBA interview. I studied for about 4-5 hours. At the same time, I posted a status on Facebook: How much time does it take to reach Dhaka University from Dhaka International Airport? Is it possible to reach in 40 minutes? Friends, any suggestion, please? I was truly a very simple person back then. I saw the world in very simple terms. Since I hadn’t visited Dhaka much, I didn’t know that in 2011 it wasn’t possible to get from the airport to Shahbag in 40 minutes. Everyone was saying it would take a minimum of two hours to get from the airport to the university campus in the afternoon. All sorts of bizarre comments came in reply to my status. Many started making fun of me. I’ll share some of my friends’ suggestions: “It’s possible if you run.” “It would be great if you jogged to the university. You’d get your evening exercise too!” “You shouldn’t have bought that plane ticket! With that money, if you had thrown us a party, we all would have prayed together and your BCS would have worked out! Hahahaha…..” “Young man! You’re young, just run as soon as you get off the plane! You’ll see, you’ll reach before time!” “Listen, such-and-such bus runs on such-and-such route. Hanging and sleeping, you’ll reach IBA just fine!” I got many such absurd comments. I knew absolutely nothing about Dhaka then. When you’re in trouble, doesn’t everyone have to give you a kick? It began to feel like that’s just how life is! People can’t extend a hand to pull you up, but they can certainly extend a foot to kick you down! Without getting the least bit discouraged by anyone’s words, I kept waiting to see if someone would give some good advice. I didn’t react to anyone’s reply that day. How helplessly calm a person becomes when in trouble. All I knew was this: “I’m giving my IBA interview on the 17th.” One person wrote, “You can go by bike. There’s no faster way to reach the university campus.” Some people even supported that idea. A few mentioned taxi cabs. Support was strongest for the bike option. Up until then, I had ridden a bike maybe 2-3 times in my entire life, counting generously. I didn’t really know anyone in Dhaka who had a bike, or if I did know someone, my mind wasn’t working at all then. Sometimes I think now, alas!

I couldn’t even afford to manage a bike at that time. I wrote, “My flight is scheduled to land at Dhaka Airport at 4.10 pm on 17 January. I must reach Dhaka University at or before 5.15 pm. I’ve an interview at IBA at that time. . . . Can’t I do it? Is it not possible? I need to do it at any cost. As I don’t know about the routes of Dhaka City, I’m asking for your help. Dhaka City is an unknown city to me. Can a taxi cab help me reach there in 1 hour? I can’t be late, otherwise I’ll miss the interview schedule. I’ve managed that schedule today through an application. . . Can a bike be a better solution? Or, something else? I’m in great trouble. . . .” After posting this, the mocking and laughter began all over again. I replied to the distinguished gentleman (one of Bangladesh’s most successful businessmen) who had advised me to jog there: “Thank you Sir for you ‘jogging’ suggestion. I was also seriously thinking of this option. Yes, I’ll surely manage to reach in time by vehicles, on foot, again by vehicles, again on foot . . . . And, I’ll go. I’ll be there in time by any means.” Someone said, “Change the schedule once more.” I wrote, “The schedule can’t be changed! Hopefully, there will happen some miracle and I’ll manage to avail the schedule in time.” A younger brother wrote, “Brother, you should go by taxi-cab. But you could try the bus once. Dhaka buses run quite well!” I replied, “Brother, I’m not surely making any attempt of getting on a bus! That’ll be horrible, you know. I was just seeking for a suggestion as I don’t know about the route. Thanks for the suggestion. I think a CNG powered taxi can help me in this regard. A taxi-cab is prone to getting stuck up in the congestion forever. A bike could be a better solution. But, I can’t manage it.”

Mrs. Zohra, whose name was Ira—an extremely distinguished lady—commented, “You need a bike?” “That would be wonderful.” “Alright, let me see what I can do.” She was the Deputy Managing Director of ONE Bank. After completing her studies in Chemistry from Chittagong University, she had done her MBA from IBA. She worked in the corporate sector, but there were very few people who didn’t know her. I have a sister. Her name is Sharmin Muiz Khan. At that time, she was one of those rare souls who loved someone as insignificant as me far more than necessary, showered me with affection for no particular reason. She was almost my mother’s age, but I addressed her as ‘tumi’ and she called me ‘tui’. She had studied English Literature at Dhaka University. She particularly loved my writing. She was a business magnate and had connections with many prominent people. I have rarely seen a lady as distinguished, refined, elegant, and utterly graceful as her. She commented, “Bappi, someone needs to grab you and give you a good thrashing. Are you enjoying confusing everyone by calling them all the time? Please stop wasting your time browsing Facebook and concentrate on tomorrow’s exam. Otherwise, you’re calling for another disaster. There is a saying: ‘Que sera, sera’ meaning: Whatever will be, will be. So, pray and try your best. I have given this opinion after a lot of serious thoughts. Please follow it. You will leave here right now. I don’t want to see you making even one more comment! MIRACLES HAPPEN IF YOU BELIEVE IN YOURSELF!” I replied, “Didi, things are that they’re. Things will be that they will be. And, between this two there lie some miracles that we’re never aware of. And, miracles are often stranger than facts. Facts are because they’re. Miracles are because we or someone else wants them to be. That’s the truth!” She called Mrs. Zohra. She said, “Look Ira, my brother has gotten into a bit of trouble. The poor thing is a simple soul, we should do something for him. Can’t you arrange a bike for him?” A little while later, I saw a message from Mrs. Zohra in my inbox: “Please give me your contact number. Regards” I gave it immediately. The call came within seconds. After introducing herself, she said, “You need a bike Monday at 4 PM, right?” “That would be wonderful.” “OK, a bike will be there for you at 4. My colleague Romel will pick you. Alright?” “I am truly, truly grateful. Thank you so very much!” “Let’s get the work done first, then you can thank me. I’m texting you Romel’s number. Take care.” She hung up immediately. I wrote to her: “Life is stranger than fiction, I repeat. From myself, I’ve got much less than I truly deserve. From others, I’ve got much more than I truly deserve. Is it the thing that they call miracle? I don’t know and never try to know. I let miracles happen and thankfully they always happen . . . . . . . Thank you for your generous approach. This really means a lot to me.” I wrote my piece. I don’t know if she ever read it or had the time to read it. Noble souls don’t wait for thanks. Besides, she was truly, truly busy.

He was the head of the credit section at One Bank. He had no reason to know a nobody like me, yet he knew me through my writing. Otherwise, I would never have had the privilege of speaking with him directly. And the fact that Sharmin didi had spoken to him about me—that was a big deal too. The next day was the Bangladesh Affairs Paper 2 exam. I went to sleep without studying any of it. The day after, straight from the exam hall, I went to the Westex showroom at Probortak intersection. My life’s first interview. I was incredibly excited! I had decided I’d go to the interview board wearing everything brand new. I bought a formal white shirt, black pants, black tie, black belt, black socks, white undershirt, and brown shoes. Later, from Gallery Apex I bought formal Oxford shoes, and from Time Zone a Titan wristwatch, then returned home in the evening. Seeing my antics, Ma was laughing. “Ma, why are you laughing?” “Just because, dear.” The funny thing was, Ma went with me to the exam hall every single day. She always kept me close, just like a child. Ma said, “Tomorrow I’m going to the airport with you.” And she did go—despite my protests.

Monday, the 17th. International Affairs exam. I couldn’t stay in the exam hall for the entire time due to nerves. I don’t have a car, what if the CNG takes too long to reach the airport! What if I miss the flight! The flight was at 3:20. And it takes at least 2 hours to reach the airport from Omar Gani MES College by 1 PM. Our written exam had been during winter. In the bitter cold, my fingers would freeze. Still, I kept rubbing my palms together to warm them, blowing hot breath into the hollow of my cupped hands, and wrote with all my strength. Instead of 1 o’clock, I finished the exam at 12:30, submitted my paper, and rushed out. When I emerged from the hall and reached the gate, everyone thought I must have been expelled! The intense stress was clearly written all over my face. Many showed me sympathy, told me not to worry, advised me to do better in the next BCS. I didn’t have time to respond. What could I say anyway—at that moment, life itself was one giant question mark for me! I don’t know what strength possessed my mother. She ran almost twice as fast as me, covering the distance from the college campus to the road. We got into a CNG without bargaining, paying nearly one and a half times the normal fare. I told the driver, “However you manage it, get us to the airport within two hours. If necessary, I’ll pay you extra.” It was 12:50 on the clock. The CNG started speeding. Mother opened the tiffin box and fed me khichuri, meat, and fried egg. One thought kept spinning in my head: “Will I catch the plane? If we get stuck in traffic, it’s all over!” I took off my sweater. I had left home that morning wearing my viva outfit, everything except the tie. After escaping two minor traffic jams, when we reached the airport, it was 5 minutes to 3. As soon as I got down, I touched my mother’s and aunt’s feet in respect (a distant aunt had come with us since mother couldn’t return home from the airport alone) and ran to the counter. There I learned that the flight was delayed by an hour due to dense fog. I thought, if the plane leaves at that time, there’s no way I can reach IBA by 5:15. I informed the counter staff about this. They said there was nothing they could do; they were very sorry. I inquired and learned that no other flights were departing at that time either. At that moment, I felt utterly helpless, just wanting to cry. I felt like I had no one, no one at all! I kept going from counter to counter. I found out there was a Bangladesh Biman flight departing at 3:45. There was no other flight before that. It was a bigger plane, taking 30 minutes to reach, whereas other planes take at least 40 minutes. Meaning, I would reach Dhaka airport by 4:15! I bought the ticket right then. There was great hope in my heart—if this one leaves on time, there’s nothing more to worry about. I went to the airport restroom and quickly put on my tie. I adjusted my shirt once more. Looking in the mirror, I fixed my hair with my hand. The clock hand crossed 4 after passing 3:45. The plane was delayed due to fog. We all boarded the plane at 4:15. It was my first time on a plane. I kept thinking, when will it take off, when will it take off! Every second felt like an hour! The tension was making it hard to breathe, yet the plane wouldn’t take off. I thought, oh! If only I could spend all my strength to make this plane soar into the sky! I pressed my handkerchief over my eyes to hide my tears. Finally, the plane took off. It was 4:37 on the clock. I was thinking, oh!

The plane could have taken off directly without taxiing! At least a couple of minutes would have been saved! The plane landed on Dhaka’s runway at 5:13.

I burst out of the domestic terminal running with all my might, and gasping for breath, I saw a motorcycle come to a stop right in front of me. “You’re Sushanta, right? Get on the back!” I extended my hand to shake hands with the young man in the black helmet. He didn’t raise his black-gloved right fist for a handshake. “Time’s wasting, brother! Please get on! Quick!” I didn’t argue further. “You’re not used to riding bikes, are you?” “Yes. How did you know?” “Brother, I’ve been riding bikes for the past 18-20 years. I can tell.” “I see.” “Lean forward and press your chest firmly against my back! You can even wrap your arms around me, otherwise you’ll get thrown off. For sure! I’m going to ride fast.” The way that bike tore out of the airport—I don’t have the courage to even think about it today. Under normal circumstances, I might have screamed in fear and told him to stop, or I really would have been thrown off. But at that moment I knew that being afraid was important, but far more important was reaching IBA alive. I don’t know if the wheels of that 150cc bike actually touched the ground that day, but for the second time in my life I understood this truth: you cannot frighten someone who stakes their life to touch their dreams. I had only seen bikes racing so recklessly on the roads in movies. The bike was literally cutting through the whooshing sound of wind, as if flying through the air! “Say brother, are you somebody really important?” “What do you mean?” “Well, Madam told me that one of her very important friends had to be delivered from the airport to IBA within half an hour, no matter what. That was her order! Who are you, brother? Hahahaha………” “I’m Madam’s Facebook friend.” “What are you saying, man? How’s that possible! I was thinking even more… you mean you’ve never even met her?” “No, brother. Why?” (There’s a railway crossing ahead. The barrier is coming down.) “Brother, duck your head a little.” Saying this, he quickly rode the bike under the barrier without obeying the signal. Many people behind us were shouting for us to stop. “Brother, just don’t be afraid. Nothing will happen. You can close your eyes if you want.” Right at that moment, while quickly emerging from between two trucks standing side by side, he said, “Sit a bit smaller, brother!” A little further ahead—massive traffic jam at a signal! Romel bhai lifted the bike onto the sidewalk. “Brother, please give way a little, give way a little,” he kept saying as he raced forward. He had to do this several times. Sometimes when riding on the central divider in the middle of the road, traffic police would catch us, and he’d say in a tearful voice, “Sir, my aunt is fighting for her life in the medical college. I’m going to donate blood. O-negative blood—we can’t find any. If I don’t reach on time, we won’t be able to save my aunt, sir!” He’d manage the police with this story and then race off at the same speed again! Whenever there was a traffic jam on the road, he’d immediately change to another road. That day I learned that when obstacles appear on the road, it doesn’t mean there is no road. Rather, it means you have to take a different road! Right now!! I had only seen such daredevil biking in Hollywood action movies. Looking at my hair in the bike’s mirror, it seemed as if it had stood up straight after an electric shock! My face was covered with dust from the city. In the fierce wind, my tie was flying behind me in the air. I don’t know if anyone has ever seen a bike race so recklessly through Dhaka’s roads during rush hour. But for some reason, I truly wasn’t afraid at all. I kept thinking over and over, “How quickly can one reach IBA!” Romel bhai had finished his honors and master’s from Dhaka College before joining the bank. I had asked him, “What’s your designation at the bank?” He had joked, “Not much, just 14 more promotions and I’ll be able to sit in Zohra Madam’s chair. Hahaha…….”

When I arrived in front of IBA, my watch showed 5:52. As I got down, I saw my younger brother Pappu and his friend Arefin standing there. At that time, I had my gift shop ‘Dobhana.’ Pappu and Arefin were my working partners. They often came to Dhaka from Chawk Bazaar in Old Dhaka to buy wholesale goods for the shop. I had withdrawn myself from the shop to focus on my BCS exam preparation. They ran everything. They were already in Dhaka on shop business. I had told them to go to the IBA MBA program office and keep me updated by phone about the viva board situation. Through repeated conversations with them, I was checking whether the interview board was still there, asking them to go to the program office and explain that I couldn’t arrive on time due to flight delays, terrible traffic jams, and so on. As soon as I got down, they informed me, “Bhaiya, the board left 4-5 minutes ago. Now only the Executive MBA viva remains.” After introducing them to Romel bhai, I rushed up to the MBA program office on the second floor. As soon as they saw me, everyone there stopped their work and looked at me. I saw Rahi Sir busy with something; he didn’t respond to my greeting. “Sir, I’m very late. Despite trying hard, I couldn’t arrive on time. I…” Without giving me a chance to say anything more, he shouted, “You Idiot! Get out!” “Sir, I…” “I said, Get out! Out! Out!! I knew very well that you wouldn’t be able to come on time. Is it possible to take one exam in Chittagong and then come to Dhaka for another exam? That easy? You’ve just wasted my time! I had told everyone that a boy from Chittagong would come at 5:15, and we needed to take his viva. Did you think I am a joker?” “Sir, I came here with great difficulty. The flight was delayed, there was heavy traffic on the road. I really…” “It’s none of my business! Get out! Go back where you came from.” “Sir, I had many dreams of studying at IBA.” “Everyone on the street has such dreams. I gave you a chance but you missed it. That’s all! Get out of here.” “Sir, please have some mercy…” (I felt like falling at his feet and crying…) Right beside him sat a gentle-looking gentleman much younger than the sir. He said, “Sir, I’ve heard about him. His younger brother kept coming to our program office. They had been standing in front of the office for hours. His flight was indeed delayed. And there’s heavy traffic in Dhaka today too. A friend of mine came to my room from the airport a while ago; it took him a long time to get here too. Give him a chance, Sir. He’s come so far, taking such risks with great difficulty! He apparently has another written exam tomorrow too. The poor fellow has to return to Chittagong today itself.” “Son, you junior faculty members don’t even know what you’re saying, what kind of requests you make. Why are you pleading for him? Is he your relative or something?” “No no Sir, I’m seeing him for the first time today. Just look at his face once, Sir. He’s really come here with great difficulty. Please do him a favor, Sir.” “You have no idea what you are talking about! Will the Executive MBA viva be the same as theirs? They have 3 years of job experience, while these are just children in comparison!

“This won’t be possible, brother. I am sorry!” “Sir, please help the poor fellow a bit. He’s come such a long way with so much hope!” “Son, we can’t manage anything more for you!” I stood a little distance away, head bowed. Looking at me, he called out loudly, “Hey, stupid! Why are you standing there like a donkey? Go on, go to the third floor! Go and stand there absolutely quietly. We’ll call you.” I truly couldn’t understand whether such a beautiful moment had ever come anywhere in this world before! Tears began streaming down my face. I prayed again and again from my heart for Babu sir. Rahi sir seemed like a father figure to me. I kept remembering mother’s words: “Never get angry at teachers’ scolding. When teachers scold, it means blessings.” Overwhelmed with emotion, as I was about to leave after thanking and saluting the teachers, Rahi sir called from behind, “Hey crazy boy! Comb your hair before entering the board! Wash your face at the basin! Don’t be so scared! Hahaha…” I couldn’t say anything more. I kept staring blankly at sir’s face. My cheeks were wet with tears from both eyes. Babu sir placed his hand on my shoulder and said, “Go on, go upstairs and wait. We are not that much bad people as you thought us to be. Sometimes even the IBA faculties are too good! Freshen up, give your interview properly, now there’s no tension anymore. What’s your exam tomorrow?” “Sir, Mathematical Reasoning and Mental Ability.” “How will you go?” “Sir, I have a return plane ticket.” “Good! Brother, splash some water on your eyes and face to fix your appearance. Give your viva quickly and rush to the airport! Good luck!” At that moment I felt like touching sir’s feet in salute. People get frightened by sudden intense love. For the first time, it suddenly struck me: “What if I can’t honor this love of my teachers? What if I don’t get a chance at IBA in the end?”

When we find ourselves in trouble, if our intentions are pure, a way out always emerges! I went to the washroom on the third floor and tried my best to “make myself presentable” by wetting my hair and smoothing it down. After splashing water on my face, I went and waited in front of the notice board. I was called after 10 minutes. It was nearly seven o’clock. When I entered the room, I saw many faculty members seated there. I hadn’t known that so many would be present for an interview. I thought this was perhaps how IBA interviews were conducted. I later learned that this entire panel had been assembled just for me. Apart from Babu Sir and Rahi Sir, I didn’t recognize anyone else. After getting admitted, I realized that those present that evening were IBA’s most senior and accomplished faculty members. The board included Saiful Majid Sir, Shama-e-Zahir Sir, Mamun Sir, Munir Khosru Sir, Niaz Sir, and Saif Noman Khan Sir. Most of the junior faculty had finished their interviews and gone home, while some senior faculty were in their offices conducting Executive MBA interviews. Some of them had been specially called in. I was in the interview for about 18-20 minutes. Many of the faculty members knew about my situation that day. I had heard of something called “divine possession” in life. At certain special moments, due to particular external influences or circumstances, people suddenly gain extraordinary power. In those moments, they step outside their normal state and display different behavior. They can harness the utmost potential of their inner infinite strength. In that wondrous balanced fusion of emotion and capability, the best version of themselves emerges. From the moment I entered the interview room, I had very likely become a different person, or perhaps the very best ‘me’ from within had emerged that day. By what divine signal this happened, I don’t know. No hesitation, doubt, nervousness, fear, the day’s exhaustion, or lethargy was affecting me at all. I felt incredibly composed and light as a feather. It felt as though whatever I was saying or doing was the best possible. I was experiencing the finest moment of my life right then and there. I can say with complete honesty that the style in which I spoke English that day—I have never in my entire life, even to this day, been able to speak English so flawlessly and fluently. That day the faculty members engaged in various kinds of humor during the interview. They were having great fun with me. Most likely, the faculty wanted to “shake me up” somehow. I don’t know why, by whose indication I don’t know, but I kept answering all their questions one by one with a very cool head and a smile that day. They interviewed me in English on various diverse topics, starting from describing the entire day’s events and the preceding Facebook incidents to many other subjects. (Of course, at IBA there’s absolutely no opportunity to give interviews in Bengali.) Why I wanted to pursue an MBA, why IBA if I was going to take government job exams anyway, my weaknesses, whether I’d ever been in love, how I spend my leisure time, some conversation about reading books, various economic issues of Bangladesh, some personal and family matters, my future plans, the breathless motorcycle journey from A to Z, the BCS examination system, why I went into engineering despite having no interest, why I delayed my honors degree, why I didn’t study properly, why my CGPA was so low, what I like to eat, what kind of personality I prefer in people, what I know about IBA, some current affairs, and several other questions. I was answering very quickly in correct English. The faculty praised this too. I gave a very simple, straightforward, and candid interview. I didn’t speak a single false word that day.

I didn’t need to think before speaking—whatever came to mind, I simply said, so there was no chance to fabricate lies. At the end, they asked me to sing a song. When I said, “I can’t, Sir,” Babu Sir showed me my info-form and laughed, saying, “But you’ve claimed so.” I had written Reading, Writing, Singing in the hobbies section… At that moment, it felt like I was living the best day of my life. I sang, “Aaj ei dintake…” “I see, we’re getting a singer for our cultural program!” As Saiful Majid Sir was saying this, Babu Sir interjected, “Sir, he has another exam tomorrow. He’ll probably be flying back to Chittagong tonight.” Then three or four teachers exclaimed in unison, “What! He’s going back to Chittagong right now? Well then, run along, run along! Go downstairs and see if your superman biker is there! Hahahaha…” As I was leaving with my salaam, the teachers called out, “Best of luck for your tomorrow’s exam.” I kept thinking, again and again—I’ll make it, I’ll make it! (Even after giving the BCS viva, I didn’t feel this good.)

When I stepped out of IBA, it was half past seven on the clock. I knew there was no way I could catch the 7:45 flight. I also knew that I had no idea how I would get to Chittagong that night. I didn’t even feel like thinking about it. Only the exhilarating rush of having given a good exam was coursing through me. Pappu and Arefin had been waiting for me at Madhu’s canteen. Taking them along, I went to the front of Dhaka University’s Central Library and leisurely began eating vegetable pakoras and tea. Many of my students studied in various departments at Dhaka University. Quite a few came to see me. They were asking what questions had been asked in the interview. After a day of incredible experiences, my head had become almost entirely empty. I couldn’t understand why I wasn’t feeling the slightest urgency to return to Chittagong. Pappu asked, “Brother, will you take the night bus?” I said, “Yes, that could work.” (It amuses me now to think how casually I had said ‘that could work’!) The road conditions weren’t good then either, there were always traffic jams. It didn’t even occur to me—what would happen if I couldn’t reach by 10 AM tomorrow? Ripon, a dear younger brother who lived in Chittagong and was one of my former students, said, “Brother, I have a non-AC train ticket; for Turna Nishitha, leaving tonight. It doesn’t matter if I don’t go to Chittagong today. Brother, you take it.” “Alright, fine,” I said, took the ticket, and set off toward Kamalapur Station. That night the train left nearly an hour and a half late. I didn’t even want to think about what was going to happen! I had already surrendered myself to fate long before. In my mind I kept repeating only this: whatever will be, will be. Whether I want it or not, it will happen. And whatever is happening is surely for the good; whatever will happen will surely be for the good too. Let’s see! After the day’s exhaustion, I had a very peaceful sleep. Suddenly I woke up hearing commotion around me. The train had stopped at Comilla. Apparently there was some problem with the line. We were delayed there for nearly two and a quarter hours. I couldn’t understand why I wasn’t feeling any kind of anxiety! I fell asleep again. Sleep is the world’s only faithful lover. Whenever I want it, I find it near. Never, under any circumstances, does it abandon me. There can be no purer love than the love for sleep.

When the train reached Chittagong railway station the next day, it was a quarter to ten in the morning. My exam was scheduled to start at ten. It takes only fifteen minutes to get from the station to my house. When I got home, I found my mother sitting there with everything ready in her hands—my pencil box, board, scale, pen, calculator, admit card, registration card, all of it. My parents had been terribly anxious at home. I hadn’t been able to speak to them since after half past one at night. My mobile had run out of charge. (I was using a cheap Nokia 1100 mobile set back then. Everyone called it the “national set”! It was so sturdy that many would joke, “Dude, you could crack jackfruit with that phone!” I’d tease my friends who used expensive mobiles, saying, “My phone’s model is ‘N Eleven Zero Zero’!”) As soon as my mother saw me, she said, “Dear, how are you? Will you take today’s exam?” I felt emotionally numb. It seemed as though I was lighter than a feather at that moment, floating around in some kind of trance! I smiled and said, “Ma, I’m perfectly fine. I’ll take the exam.” Saying this, I took the packed shopping bag from my mother’s hands and left the house just as I was. It was 10:05 on the clock. From our house to the exam center, it takes at least thirty minutes by CNG during office hours. When I reached the college gate, it was 10:43. That day was the mathematical reasoning and mental ability test. The first two hours were mathematical reasoning, followed by one hour of mental ability. The exam had already started forty-three minutes earlier. Naturally, the police wouldn’t let me enter. I pleaded extensively, kept trying futilely to explain what had happened, but they weren’t willing to listen to anything. But I had made up my mind—I wasn’t going to turn back, I would get inside no matter what. A small commotion started gathering there. Seeing the crowd, the magistrate came over. After hearing my entire story, he said, “You only have one hour left. Can you finish all the math problems in this time?” Without a moment’s hesitation, I said, “I can, sir!” “Alright, go ahead. Good luck!” My heart overflowed with gratitude toward him. At that moment, he seemed to me not human, but divine! I went in, looked at the questions, took the exam. I even showed three problems to the person sitting next to me. (He got a job in Audit and Accounts in the 30th batch.) I scored 98 on that day’s exam—50 in math, 48 in mental ability. After that… well, as everyone says—the rest is history!

But this much is true: had that day’s exam been something other than mathematics, I would have been in real trouble. I can handle math because the type of problems that appeared in the BCS written exam back then weren’t particularly difficult for me to solve. Such problems don’t strain the mind much, and the 30th BCS written exam featured relatively easy math. Even if I worked through each step carefully and added side notes, it shouldn’t have taken more than half an hour. It didn’t for me either. However, spending two and a half hours on the International Affairs exam the day before had been risky. Actually, no matter how incredible the whole affair might seem, everything appears to have been predetermined by the Creator or nature itself. What remains inexplicable to our limited understanding is simply a natural, ordinary occurrence for the Creator. All our failures and successes are already decided beforehand. But to reach that point, the effort—or making the right decision at the right time—that we must do ourselves. I wasn’t even supposed to pass my undergraduate degree. Yet it was my destiny to complete my undergraduate studies, become a BCS cadre, study at IBA—all of it was written in my fate. Had my destiny been bound elsewhere, I would have gone there instead. I had enrolled in another master’s program under Dhaka University—MDS. After continuing that course for three months, I left it of my own accord. They had said I would need to officially hide the fact that I was simultaneously pursuing another master’s at IBA. I refused to lie. I harbor no regret about this, though. I’ve accepted that pursuing that particular master’s degree simply wasn’t written in my destiny. This is the truth, this is reality. I had gained admission to Dhaka University’s Evening MBA program in Finance, ranking sixth on the merit list, but never had to attend classes there. I received my IBA admission test results before that. I did complete my master’s in Finance from Dhaka University, but the Evening MBA program wasn’t destined for me, so I didn’t pursue my master’s degree from there.

Stepping into two boats in the middle of a river ensures certain death. Logic dictates this. But I placed my feet in two boats, taking the maximum risk—I had no other choice—yet both boats moved forward in parallel at the same speed at the same time, so I didn’t slip between them and lose my life. What explanation could there be for this? Life doesn’t follow logic; life follows the Creator’s signals. Life doesn’t always operate according to explanations. Sometimes life moves on faith. So there’s nothing to say about anyone’s personal philosophy and the life they live according to their beliefs, as long as that life doesn’t interfere with someone else’s way of living. Somewhere, no explicable form of life can be seen, and life is just like this!

Through sheer mental strength alone, I had believed that some miracle would surely occur. It did happen, because in Providence’s master plan, that’s what was meant to happen. Everything in between was the Creator’s games or plans to test my patience and concentration. You will never be given a gift you don’t deserve. You will be tested, and if you fail to pass that test, you will deprive yourself of the Creator’s grace through your own fault. I’m sharing with you the Facebook status I posted after the IBA admission test results came out, along with a couple of my own comments on it:

Friends, I’ve been finally selected for admission into the MBA Program of IBA, Dhaka University. …… feeling happy. ……. HATS OFF to Sharmeen didi, Ira madam & Romel bhai!!

# My dear friends….. Your gorgeous presence on my wall makes me think twice about the POWER of friendship & the MAGIC of love. YES……… They matter!! I just want to be with you forever. Please never say GOODBYE…. It hurts!! Your kindness and care mean a lot to me. You’ve always given me much more than I really deserve. Please accept my sincere GRATITUDE.

Happy Social Networking!!

Long live Facebook!!

My best wishes for our Friendship!!

……… Love you all ……

# (To one of my close friends) Dost, not reaching the Interview Session on 17 January at 5:30 pm was what I thought to be….. reaching there in time was what was written in my DESTINY….. And, I ended up calling it a MIRACLE, something I never believed in before…… Just have a look at the schedule of 17 January……

International Affairs Exam (BCS written exam)…. 10:00 am — 1:00 pm

The departure time of the GMG Airlines: 3:20 pm, there was a delay of about 1 hour due to fog and I availed another delayed flight of Bangladesh Biman at 4:37 pm.

The plane landed on Dhaka Airport at 5:13 pm and then I started my fight against time to meet the deadline by bike with Romel bhai!! Who managed those three saviours (Sharmeen didi, Ira madam & Romel bhai) for me? I don’t know. You better ask the Heaven! I saw such a breath-taking motor-bike driving only in English movies. Before that day, I had never thought I would experience it!!

Life is sometimes stranger than fiction . . . . Who can tell it better than I?

# (To one of my senior high-profile Indian friends) Thank you Sir for your words of felicitation. IBA of Dhaka University is considered as the most prestigious institute for doing MBA in Bangladesh. As per the rules of that Business School, the Major/Field of Specialization is allowed to be chosen at the final semester judging the academic records & intention of a candidate. I don’t have much idea about what to choose and why to choose. Please share some ideas on it as you’ve huge practical knowledge (so far as I know) about the present corporate trend.

You’ve nicely stated the trend of our careerist B-school graduates. No one really cares about their own aptitude, rather, tries to be what market wants them to be. Personally, I always like the decision-making and mainstream operational sections of giant companies. And, probably I’ll go for finance as my major when I’ve to choose it in my final semester. Yes, my semester results must be well enough to work on my advantage. That’ll be a story of one and a half years later. Till then, I’ll have to undergo the generalized curriculum as my B-school formulates. The recent economic recession worries our friends studying at the US universities. And, almost all of them suggest me not to plan of staying there. But at the same time, they suggest me completing my PhD in the US if I want to and grab that opportunity. Let’s wait and see. . . . . Are you in India now? Hope you’re quite OK along with your busy schedule. Please, sometimes give me your valuable suggestions when you’ve time and you’re here on Facebook. . . . . Thank you once again for your helpful advice. Take care.

In explaining the final part of the status shared above, I had written these words:

Let me share the Story behind the Story and elucidate the last part of my status. It would have been quite impossible for me to reach Dhaka University from Dhaka International Airport within just 50 minutes (!!) to attend the interview session of IBA in time on Jan 17, but for the cordial help of Sharmeen didi (Sharmeen Muiz) & Ira madam (Johora Bebe Ira). They’re the persons who made that miracle happen!! And, Romel bhai (Monirul Alam Romel) is the “Man with the Bike” who dared fight against time to meet the deadline!! ……. I feel honoured to express my heartfelt gratitude to these three saviours. …….. Miracles Happen When You Believe!!

I conclude this piece with a beautifully strange comment Sharmeen didi made on that status: “My prayers, good wishes, and prayers remain with you. Dear brother of mine, may you grow to great heights. And may the successful reflection of our efforts (Ira’s and mine) shine through in everything you do. I was there, I am here, I will be there. …….. Heaps of hugs and love.”

What sustains a human being? We live on love, on prayers, on good wishes. These are what keep me alive—quite well alive, in fact. My gratitude!

P.S. Let me offer you some practical wisdom. Those who think they know too much, who consider themselves supremely intelligent, who speak in grand terms without any real qualifications or notable position, who try to diminish others even through outright lies, who pontificate without knowledge, who speak to you in such a manner that you begin to doubt your own confidence—I would advise you to absolutely, absolutely, and absolutely avoid such people. They themselves cannot go very far in life, nor will they allow you to go very far either.

(Written 2-3 years ago)

I thought, why should I surrender before I’ve even lost? I’ll see this through to the end. At home, my parents were also saying, “Give up one of them.” My heart was telling me, “I won’t give up, not for anything!” Let me gamble with life this once and see what happens! You have to listen to your heart. I called the MBA Program Office. Zakir bhai was in charge there. He said, “IBA’s schedule doesn’t change for anyone. You change your schedule.” I said, “That’s not possible. You have several slots. BCS has only one.” Even after that he said, “It’s not possible in any way. We’re sorry!” Saying this, he hung up the phone, and my stubbornness only grew stronger. I put aside studying for the next day’s exam. After some inquiries, I learned that Rahi Sir was the Program Chairman for IBA’s MBA at the time. Only he could change my interview slot if he wanted to. Rahi Sir is an incredibly fierce person. IBA’s Marketing Department is the best in Bangladesh. Rahi Sir is the best faculty in that department. I got his number. The person I got the number from asked, “Are you really going to call Rahi Sir?” “Yes. Why?” “We students never dare to call Sir. And you’re going to call him for this?” “I will. I have to. My back is against the wall.” “God bless you, man! You better think twice.” I said, “Sometimes life doesn’t give you the opportunity to think twice. It’s the first and the only chance! I must grab it before it’s too late! I will call him. I’ll make my attempt—if it works, it works; if not, so be it. If I don’t try, it definitely won’t work. Thank you, bhai!” Right after finishing that conversation, without any second thoughts, I called Rahi Sir. A man with an extremely serious voice. It’s frightening just to speak with him. But I have nothing left to lose. I only know this: I passed IBA’s written exam and IBA has to conduct my interview. I had truly become reckless. I blurted out my entire problem in one breath. Rahi Sir said, “You silly kid! You’ve dared to call Rahi Sir for this! Did you think I am your friend? It’s not my business whether you can attend the viva board or not. You have only 2 choices: Leave IBA, or, Leave BCS.” To my infinite amazement, I heard myself saying, “Sir, I have called you to hear about the third choice. If you don’t have that, please make it for me. I know I’ll be at IBA.” Sir said very loudly over the phone, “You are a stupid little boy. You just know nothing about the things here! Don’t waste my time. I am busy!” “Sir, please give me a chance. I am………” I couldn’t make him hear any more—he hung up before that. I couldn’t understand what had happened, only felt an even stronger desire to believe that I would definitely study at IBA. BCS seemed to fade for a moment. Whatever happens in tomorrow’s exam will happen. Right now I need to sort out the IBA situation first. I called the program office again.

I asked, “When can I actually meet Rahi sir?” “What do you mean?” “Sir told me to come see him.” “Ask sir himself when you can actually meet him.” (I mustered the courage to lie….) “Sir said to call the program office and find out.” “He told you to ask us? Really! Alright, stay on the line, let me check sir’s class schedule.” Zakir bhai informed me that if I came next Friday evening, I could meet sir. Saying “thank you very much,” I hung up the phone and immediately left home to buy a bus ticket. From near Gariullah Shah’s shrine in Chittagong, I bought a ticket on Unique’s non-AC bus to Dhaka for Thursday night. The next day, under tremendous mental pressure, I took my Bangladesh Studies Paper 1 exam. Even in the exam hall, my mind kept racing: “Will Rahi sir keep his word?” In my answer sheet, I mistakenly wrote the word “Rahi” several times, though I crossed it out later.

I arrived at IBA before afternoon on Friday. I stood waiting in front of the MBA Program Office. Zakir bhai wasn’t there at the time—he came in the evening, two hours later. I went up and introduced myself. “Oh, I see, you’ve come from Chittagong. Rahi sir mentioned he would speak with you about changing your interview schedule? Really??” “Yes, he told me to come see him!” We were talking when Rahi sir arrived shortly after. He went straight through the program office into his room. A dignified man of serious disposition. His office was right next to the program office. Zakir bhai said, “Please sit on the sofa. Let me ask sir if he’s free right now.” When he told sir, “Someone named Sushanta Pal has come from Chittagong to see you—you had asked him to come,” sir immediately shouted quite loudly, “I didn’t ask anyone to come see me! Tell him to leave. Disgusting!” Zakir bhai told me, “Sir won’t see you. You should go.” “I’ll leave, but only after meeting with sir. Brother, I haven’t come here to turn back. I must see him.” Almost forcefully, I entered sir’s room without permission. After I said very politely, “Assalamu alaikum, sir,” he returned the greeting and said, “What do you want?” There were several other students in the room who had come to sir for various matters. “Sir, I called you the day before yesterday evening.” “Is it my duty to remember your call? Get out!” I said nothing and stood there with my head bowed. The words “Get out!” didn’t register in my mind. At that moment, I only knew that I would speak with Rahi sir about changing the schedule, and sir would surely agree to do so. After standing like this for nearly half an hour, sir said, “Why are you standing here like a statue?” I fearfully placed an application about changing the time slot on sir’s desk and began to say, “Sir, the day before yesterday I spoke with you on the phone…” “Speak in the language I am using now.” “Sir, my interview has been scheduled for next Monday at 10 in the morning. I am appearing for the 30th BCS written exam. I have an exam at the same time. So, I request you to shift my schedule to another convenient time slot.” “Sorry, we cannot.” “Please Sir! Otherwise, my dream to be here will be shattered.” “Let it be. Just go for BCS. You will do better being a civil servant.” “But Sir, it’s uncertain.” “Is being here certain for you?” “No Sir, that’s why I cannot leave any of these 2 opportunities. Please Sir, give me a chance. Do me a favour. I will be ever grateful, Sir.” “What time is your exam?” “10 o’clock, sir.” “How long?” “Three hours, sir.” “Okay fine, come straight here after your exam. Can you make it by 1:30?” I realized sir had forgotten that I’d come from Chittagong. “Sir, I’m taking the exam from Chittagong.” “Stupid! We cannot change our schedule for you! Are you Mr President?” “No Sir, I just want to be your student! I will do anything you tell me to do. Please give me a chance, Sir!” “Look, brother, you won’t be able to finish your exam at 1 o’clock and come from Chittagong to take the interview anyway.

You won’t make it even if you leave at 10 PM. The roads are in terrible condition, there’s heavy traffic.” “Sir, I can come in the evening.” “How? By plane?” “Yes, sir. Please give me a chance, sir.” “Alright. Don’t you have an exam the next day?” “I do, sir. I can manage. I’ll buy a return ticket.” “What time can you arrive?” “Whatever you say, sir.” “Your exam will end at 1 PM. Hmm… okay, can you make it to the 3 o’clock board?” “Yes sir, I can be there at 3.” “Do you know if there are flights at that time?” “I don’t know, sir. I’ll find out.” “I think there’s a flight around 3.” “What time can you arrive?” “4 o’clock, sir?” “Foolish boy! Your brain isn’t working. How can you take a 3 o’clock flight from Chittagong and get from the airport to IBA by 4? You have no idea about Dhaka city. Okay, you come by 5:15 sharp. You will be last person in that board. If you come after that, nothing can be done. The evening board is for Executive MBA. It won’t be possible to hold your viva there. Okay?” “Thank you, sir.” “Youngman, you have decided to play with your life! Best of luck!” “Please pray for me, sir. I can do this!” Tears came to my eyes. I realized that though this man appeared stern on the outside, he was very gentle within. I offered many prayers for the sir and left IBA. I went to Aziz and bought some books. Then I went to Fakirapul and took the 10 PM non-AC bus from Unique, reaching Chittagong in the morning.

I’m sharing the application with you:

15 January 2011

The Program Director, MBA Program

Institute of Business Administration

University of Dhaka

Dhaka

Subject: Prayer for changing the time slot of the interview schedule of the MBA Program Admission

Sir,

This letter expresses my earnest request to change my interview schedule of the MBA Program Admission 2010-2011. I am a candidate for Full-Time Course, my admit number is 2745 and I am on Interview Board 6 scheduled to be conducted at the 10:00 am to 1:00 pm time slot on January 17, 2011. I am appearing at the 30th BCS written examination and my Examination Centre is at Chittagong. I have an examination on January 17, 2011, coincided with the same time slot of the interview and so it is not possible for me to come from Chittagong and attend the interview at 10:00 am.

I will be highly obliged if you kindly permit me to attend the interview at the 6:00 pm to 8:30 pm time slot scheduled for Evening Board 3 and Evening Board 4 on January 17, 2011.

Yours faithfully

Sushanta Paul

I had never been on a plane before. I thought that wherever you go, you need a passport to fly. My elder brother called a friend who works with passport services and asked what documents are needed for an emergency passport to Dhaka. He burst out laughing! He said, “Buddy, what do you need a passport for? A plane and a bus are the same thing. One flies in the sky, the other runs on the road. That’s all there is to it! Just go buy a ticket. That’s it! Which one is good? You can go with GMG. That’s pretty good.” I didn’t know that you don’t have to rush to the airport to buy a plane ticket. I had no idea how much tickets cost. Getting off the bus in the morning, I went straight to a Dutch-Bangla Bank booth and withdrew ten thousand taka. Then I jumped into a CNG and rushed to the airport. I bought a ticket from the GMG Airlines counter for the 3:20 flight on Monday, the 17th. That was the first Chittagong-Dhaka flight of the afternoon. I booked a return ticket for the same day on the 7:45 evening flight. I felt like I could see it right before my eyes—me attending classes at IBA! Such a strange vision! I returned home with a victorious smile, almost as if I had already gotten into IBA! At night, I tried to prepare from various guides and the internet about what they might ask in the IBA interview. I studied for about 4-5 hours. At the same time, I posted a status on Facebook: How much time does it take to reach Dhaka University from Dhaka International Airport? Is it possible to reach in 40 minutes? Friends, any suggestion, please? I was truly a very simple person back then. I saw the world in very simple terms. Since I hadn’t visited Dhaka much, I didn’t know that in 2011 it wasn’t possible to get from the airport to Shahbag in 40 minutes. Everyone was saying it would take a minimum of two hours to get from the airport to the university campus in the afternoon. All sorts of bizarre comments came in reply to my status. Many started making fun of me. I’ll share some of my friends’ suggestions: “It’s possible if you run.” “It would be great if you jogged to the university. You’d get your evening exercise too!” “You shouldn’t have bought that plane ticket! With that money, if you had thrown us a party, we all would have prayed together and your BCS would have worked out! Hahahaha…..” “Young man! You’re young, just run as soon as you get off the plane! You’ll see, you’ll reach before time!” “Listen, such-and-such bus runs on such-and-such route. Hanging and sleeping, you’ll reach IBA just fine!” I got many such absurd comments. I knew absolutely nothing about Dhaka then. When you’re in trouble, doesn’t everyone have to give you a kick? It began to feel like that’s just how life is! People can’t extend a hand to pull you up, but they can certainly extend a foot to kick you down! Without getting the least bit discouraged by anyone’s words, I kept waiting to see if someone would give some good advice. I didn’t react to anyone’s reply that day. How helplessly calm a person becomes when in trouble. All I knew was this: “I’m giving my IBA interview on the 17th.” One person wrote, “You can go by bike. There’s no faster way to reach the university campus.” Some people even supported that idea. A few mentioned taxi cabs. Support was strongest for the bike option. Up until then, I had ridden a bike maybe 2-3 times in my entire life, counting generously. I didn’t really know anyone in Dhaka who had a bike, or if I did know someone, my mind wasn’t working at all then. Sometimes I think now, alas!

I couldn’t even afford to manage a bike at that time. I wrote, “My flight is scheduled to land at Dhaka Airport at 4.10 pm on 17 January. I must reach Dhaka University at or before 5.15 pm. I’ve an interview at IBA at that time. . . . Can’t I do it? Is it not possible? I need to do it at any cost. As I don’t know about the routes of Dhaka City, I’m asking for your help. Dhaka City is an unknown city to me. Can a taxi cab help me reach there in 1 hour? I can’t be late, otherwise I’ll miss the interview schedule. I’ve managed that schedule today through an application. . . Can a bike be a better solution? Or, something else? I’m in great trouble. . . .” After posting this, the mocking and laughter began all over again. I replied to the distinguished gentleman (one of Bangladesh’s most successful businessmen) who had advised me to jog there: “Thank you Sir for you ‘jogging’ suggestion. I was also seriously thinking of this option. Yes, I’ll surely manage to reach in time by vehicles, on foot, again by vehicles, again on foot . . . . And, I’ll go. I’ll be there in time by any means.” Someone said, “Change the schedule once more.” I wrote, “The schedule can’t be changed! Hopefully, there will happen some miracle and I’ll manage to avail the schedule in time.” A younger brother wrote, “Brother, you should go by taxi-cab. But you could try the bus once. Dhaka buses run quite well!” I replied, “Brother, I’m not surely making any attempt of getting on a bus! That’ll be horrible, you know. I was just seeking for a suggestion as I don’t know about the route. Thanks for the suggestion. I think a CNG powered taxi can help me in this regard. A taxi-cab is prone to getting stuck up in the congestion forever. A bike could be a better solution. But, I can’t manage it.”

Mrs. Zohra, whose name was Ira—an extremely distinguished lady—commented, “You need a bike?” “That would be wonderful.” “Alright, let me see what I can do.” She was the Deputy Managing Director of ONE Bank. After completing her studies in Chemistry from Chittagong University, she had done her MBA from IBA. She worked in the corporate sector, but there were very few people who didn’t know her. I have a sister. Her name is Sharmin Muiz Khan. At that time, she was one of those rare souls who loved someone as insignificant as me far more than necessary, showered me with affection for no particular reason. She was almost my mother’s age, but I addressed her as ‘tumi’ and she called me ‘tui’. She had studied English Literature at Dhaka University. She particularly loved my writing. She was a business magnate and had connections with many prominent people. I have rarely seen a lady as distinguished, refined, elegant, and utterly graceful as her. She commented, “Bappi, someone needs to grab you and give you a good thrashing. Are you enjoying confusing everyone by calling them all the time? Please stop wasting your time browsing Facebook and concentrate on tomorrow’s exam. Otherwise, you’re calling for another disaster. There is a saying: ‘Que sera, sera’ meaning: Whatever will be, will be. So, pray and try your best. I have given this opinion after a lot of serious thoughts. Please follow it. You will leave here right now. I don’t want to see you making even one more comment! MIRACLES HAPPEN IF YOU BELIEVE IN YOURSELF!” I replied, “Didi, things are that they’re. Things will be that they will be. And, between this two there lie some miracles that we’re never aware of. And, miracles are often stranger than facts. Facts are because they’re. Miracles are because we or someone else wants them to be. That’s the truth!” She called Mrs. Zohra. She said, “Look Ira, my brother has gotten into a bit of trouble. The poor thing is a simple soul, we should do something for him. Can’t you arrange a bike for him?” A little while later, I saw a message from Mrs. Zohra in my inbox: “Please give me your contact number. Regards” I gave it immediately. The call came within seconds. After introducing herself, she said, “You need a bike Monday at 4 PM, right?” “That would be wonderful.” “OK, a bike will be there for you at 4. My colleague Romel will pick you. Alright?” “I am truly, truly grateful. Thank you so very much!” “Let’s get the work done first, then you can thank me. I’m texting you Romel’s number. Take care.” She hung up immediately. I wrote to her: “Life is stranger than fiction, I repeat. From myself, I’ve got much less than I truly deserve. From others, I’ve got much more than I truly deserve. Is it the thing that they call miracle? I don’t know and never try to know. I let miracles happen and thankfully they always happen . . . . . . . Thank you for your generous approach. This really means a lot to me.” I wrote my piece. I don’t know if she ever read it or had the time to read it. Noble souls don’t wait for thanks. Besides, she was truly, truly busy.

He was the head of the credit section at One Bank. He had no reason to know a nobody like me, yet he knew me through my writing. Otherwise, I would never have had the privilege of speaking with him directly. And the fact that Sharmin didi had spoken to him about me—that was a big deal too. The next day was the Bangladesh Affairs Paper 2 exam. I went to sleep without studying any of it. The day after, straight from the exam hall, I went to the Westex showroom at Probortak intersection. My life’s first interview. I was incredibly excited! I had decided I’d go to the interview board wearing everything brand new. I bought a formal white shirt, black pants, black tie, black belt, black socks, white undershirt, and brown shoes. Later, from Gallery Apex I bought formal Oxford shoes, and from Time Zone a Titan wristwatch, then returned home in the evening. Seeing my antics, Ma was laughing. “Ma, why are you laughing?” “Just because, dear.” The funny thing was, Ma went with me to the exam hall every single day. She always kept me close, just like a child. Ma said, “Tomorrow I’m going to the airport with you.” And she did go—despite my protests.

Monday, the 17th. International Affairs exam. I couldn’t stay in the exam hall for the entire time due to nerves. I don’t have a car, what if the CNG takes too long to reach the airport! What if I miss the flight! The flight was at 3:20. And it takes at least 2 hours to reach the airport from Omar Gani MES College by 1 PM. Our written exam had been during winter. In the bitter cold, my fingers would freeze. Still, I kept rubbing my palms together to warm them, blowing hot breath into the hollow of my cupped hands, and wrote with all my strength. Instead of 1 o’clock, I finished the exam at 12:30, submitted my paper, and rushed out. When I emerged from the hall and reached the gate, everyone thought I must have been expelled! The intense stress was clearly written all over my face. Many showed me sympathy, told me not to worry, advised me to do better in the next BCS. I didn’t have time to respond. What could I say anyway—at that moment, life itself was one giant question mark for me! I don’t know what strength possessed my mother. She ran almost twice as fast as me, covering the distance from the college campus to the road. We got into a CNG without bargaining, paying nearly one and a half times the normal fare. I told the driver, “However you manage it, get us to the airport within two hours. If necessary, I’ll pay you extra.” It was 12:50 on the clock. The CNG started speeding. Mother opened the tiffin box and fed me khichuri, meat, and fried egg. One thought kept spinning in my head: “Will I catch the plane? If we get stuck in traffic, it’s all over!” I took off my sweater. I had left home that morning wearing my viva outfit, everything except the tie. After escaping two minor traffic jams, when we reached the airport, it was 5 minutes to 3. As soon as I got down, I touched my mother’s and aunt’s feet in respect (a distant aunt had come with us since mother couldn’t return home from the airport alone) and ran to the counter. There I learned that the flight was delayed by an hour due to dense fog. I thought, if the plane leaves at that time, there’s no way I can reach IBA by 5:15. I informed the counter staff about this. They said there was nothing they could do; they were very sorry. I inquired and learned that no other flights were departing at that time either. At that moment, I felt utterly helpless, just wanting to cry. I felt like I had no one, no one at all! I kept going from counter to counter. I found out there was a Bangladesh Biman flight departing at 3:45. There was no other flight before that. It was a bigger plane, taking 30 minutes to reach, whereas other planes take at least 40 minutes. Meaning, I would reach Dhaka airport by 4:15! I bought the ticket right then. There was great hope in my heart—if this one leaves on time, there’s nothing more to worry about. I went to the airport restroom and quickly put on my tie. I adjusted my shirt once more. Looking in the mirror, I fixed my hair with my hand. The clock hand crossed 4 after passing 3:45. The plane was delayed due to fog. We all boarded the plane at 4:15. It was my first time on a plane. I kept thinking, when will it take off, when will it take off! Every second felt like an hour! The tension was making it hard to breathe, yet the plane wouldn’t take off. I thought, oh! If only I could spend all my strength to make this plane soar into the sky! I pressed my handkerchief over my eyes to hide my tears. Finally, the plane took off. It was 4:37 on the clock. I was thinking, oh!

The plane could have taken off directly without taxiing! At least a couple of minutes would have been saved! The plane landed on Dhaka’s runway at 5:13.

I burst out of the domestic terminal running with all my might, and gasping for breath, I saw a motorcycle come to a stop right in front of me. “You’re Sushanta, right? Get on the back!” I extended my hand to shake hands with the young man in the black helmet. He didn’t raise his black-gloved right fist for a handshake. “Time’s wasting, brother! Please get on! Quick!” I didn’t argue further. “You’re not used to riding bikes, are you?” “Yes. How did you know?” “Brother, I’ve been riding bikes for the past 18-20 years. I can tell.” “I see.” “Lean forward and press your chest firmly against my back! You can even wrap your arms around me, otherwise you’ll get thrown off. For sure! I’m going to ride fast.” The way that bike tore out of the airport—I don’t have the courage to even think about it today. Under normal circumstances, I might have screamed in fear and told him to stop, or I really would have been thrown off. But at that moment I knew that being afraid was important, but far more important was reaching IBA alive. I don’t know if the wheels of that 150cc bike actually touched the ground that day, but for the second time in my life I understood this truth: you cannot frighten someone who stakes their life to touch their dreams. I had only seen bikes racing so recklessly on the roads in movies. The bike was literally cutting through the whooshing sound of wind, as if flying through the air! “Say brother, are you somebody really important?” “What do you mean?” “Well, Madam told me that one of her very important friends had to be delivered from the airport to IBA within half an hour, no matter what. That was her order! Who are you, brother? Hahahaha………” “I’m Madam’s Facebook friend.” “What are you saying, man? How’s that possible! I was thinking even more… you mean you’ve never even met her?” “No, brother. Why?” (There’s a railway crossing ahead. The barrier is coming down.) “Brother, duck your head a little.” Saying this, he quickly rode the bike under the barrier without obeying the signal. Many people behind us were shouting for us to stop. “Brother, just don’t be afraid. Nothing will happen. You can close your eyes if you want.” Right at that moment, while quickly emerging from between two trucks standing side by side, he said, “Sit a bit smaller, brother!” A little further ahead—massive traffic jam at a signal! Romel bhai lifted the bike onto the sidewalk. “Brother, please give way a little, give way a little,” he kept saying as he raced forward. He had to do this several times. Sometimes when riding on the central divider in the middle of the road, traffic police would catch us, and he’d say in a tearful voice, “Sir, my aunt is fighting for her life in the medical college. I’m going to donate blood. O-negative blood—we can’t find any. If I don’t reach on time, we won’t be able to save my aunt, sir!” He’d manage the police with this story and then race off at the same speed again! Whenever there was a traffic jam on the road, he’d immediately change to another road. That day I learned that when obstacles appear on the road, it doesn’t mean there is no road. Rather, it means you have to take a different road! Right now!! I had only seen such daredevil biking in Hollywood action movies. Looking at my hair in the bike’s mirror, it seemed as if it had stood up straight after an electric shock! My face was covered with dust from the city. In the fierce wind, my tie was flying behind me in the air. I don’t know if anyone has ever seen a bike race so recklessly through Dhaka’s roads during rush hour. But for some reason, I truly wasn’t afraid at all. I kept thinking over and over, “How quickly can one reach IBA!” Romel bhai had finished his honors and master’s from Dhaka College before joining the bank. I had asked him, “What’s your designation at the bank?” He had joked, “Not much, just 14 more promotions and I’ll be able to sit in Zohra Madam’s chair. Hahaha…….”

When I arrived in front of IBA, my watch showed 5:52. As I got down, I saw my younger brother Pappu and his friend Arefin standing there. At that time, I had my gift shop ‘Dobhana.’ Pappu and Arefin were my working partners. They often came to Dhaka from Chawk Bazaar in Old Dhaka to buy wholesale goods for the shop. I had withdrawn myself from the shop to focus on my BCS exam preparation. They ran everything. They were already in Dhaka on shop business. I had told them to go to the IBA MBA program office and keep me updated by phone about the viva board situation. Through repeated conversations with them, I was checking whether the interview board was still there, asking them to go to the program office and explain that I couldn’t arrive on time due to flight delays, terrible traffic jams, and so on. As soon as I got down, they informed me, “Bhaiya, the board left 4-5 minutes ago. Now only the Executive MBA viva remains.” After introducing them to Romel bhai, I rushed up to the MBA program office on the second floor. As soon as they saw me, everyone there stopped their work and looked at me. I saw Rahi Sir busy with something; he didn’t respond to my greeting. “Sir, I’m very late. Despite trying hard, I couldn’t arrive on time. I…” Without giving me a chance to say anything more, he shouted, “You Idiot! Get out!” “Sir, I…” “I said, Get out! Out! Out!! I knew very well that you wouldn’t be able to come on time. Is it possible to take one exam in Chittagong and then come to Dhaka for another exam? That easy? You’ve just wasted my time! I had told everyone that a boy from Chittagong would come at 5:15, and we needed to take his viva. Did you think I am a joker?” “Sir, I came here with great difficulty. The flight was delayed, there was heavy traffic on the road. I really…” “It’s none of my business! Get out! Go back where you came from.” “Sir, I had many dreams of studying at IBA.” “Everyone on the street has such dreams. I gave you a chance but you missed it. That’s all! Get out of here.” “Sir, please have some mercy…” (I felt like falling at his feet and crying…) Right beside him sat a gentle-looking gentleman much younger than the sir. He said, “Sir, I’ve heard about him. His younger brother kept coming to our program office. They had been standing in front of the office for hours. His flight was indeed delayed. And there’s heavy traffic in Dhaka today too. A friend of mine came to my room from the airport a while ago; it took him a long time to get here too. Give him a chance, Sir. He’s come so far, taking such risks with great difficulty! He apparently has another written exam tomorrow too. The poor fellow has to return to Chittagong today itself.” “Son, you junior faculty members don’t even know what you’re saying, what kind of requests you make. Why are you pleading for him? Is he your relative or something?” “No no Sir, I’m seeing him for the first time today. Just look at his face once, Sir. He’s really come here with great difficulty. Please do him a favor, Sir.” “You have no idea what you are talking about! Will the Executive MBA viva be the same as theirs? They have 3 years of job experience, while these are just children in comparison!

“This won’t be possible, brother. I am sorry!” “Sir, please help the poor fellow a bit. He’s come such a long way with so much hope!” “Son, we can’t manage anything more for you!” I stood a little distance away, head bowed. Looking at me, he called out loudly, “Hey, stupid! Why are you standing there like a donkey? Go on, go to the third floor! Go and stand there absolutely quietly. We’ll call you.” I truly couldn’t understand whether such a beautiful moment had ever come anywhere in this world before! Tears began streaming down my face. I prayed again and again from my heart for Babu sir. Rahi sir seemed like a father figure to me. I kept remembering mother’s words: “Never get angry at teachers’ scolding. When teachers scold, it means blessings.” Overwhelmed with emotion, as I was about to leave after thanking and saluting the teachers, Rahi sir called from behind, “Hey crazy boy! Comb your hair before entering the board! Wash your face at the basin! Don’t be so scared! Hahaha…” I couldn’t say anything more. I kept staring blankly at sir’s face. My cheeks were wet with tears from both eyes. Babu sir placed his hand on my shoulder and said, “Go on, go upstairs and wait. We are not that much bad people as you thought us to be. Sometimes even the IBA faculties are too good! Freshen up, give your interview properly, now there’s no tension anymore. What’s your exam tomorrow?” “Sir, Mathematical Reasoning and Mental Ability.” “How will you go?” “Sir, I have a return plane ticket.” “Good! Brother, splash some water on your eyes and face to fix your appearance. Give your viva quickly and rush to the airport! Good luck!” At that moment I felt like touching sir’s feet in salute. People get frightened by sudden intense love. For the first time, it suddenly struck me: “What if I can’t honor this love of my teachers? What if I don’t get a chance at IBA in the end?”

When we find ourselves in trouble, if our intentions are pure, a way out always emerges! I went to the washroom on the third floor and tried my best to “make myself presentable” by wetting my hair and smoothing it down. After splashing water on my face, I went and waited in front of the notice board. I was called after 10 minutes. It was nearly seven o’clock. When I entered the room, I saw many faculty members seated there. I hadn’t known that so many would be present for an interview. I thought this was perhaps how IBA interviews were conducted. I later learned that this entire panel had been assembled just for me. Apart from Babu Sir and Rahi Sir, I didn’t recognize anyone else. After getting admitted, I realized that those present that evening were IBA’s most senior and accomplished faculty members. The board included Saiful Majid Sir, Shama-e-Zahir Sir, Mamun Sir, Munir Khosru Sir, Niaz Sir, and Saif Noman Khan Sir. Most of the junior faculty had finished their interviews and gone home, while some senior faculty were in their offices conducting Executive MBA interviews. Some of them had been specially called in. I was in the interview for about 18-20 minutes. Many of the faculty members knew about my situation that day. I had heard of something called “divine possession” in life. At certain special moments, due to particular external influences or circumstances, people suddenly gain extraordinary power. In those moments, they step outside their normal state and display different behavior. They can harness the utmost potential of their inner infinite strength. In that wondrous balanced fusion of emotion and capability, the best version of themselves emerges. From the moment I entered the interview room, I had very likely become a different person, or perhaps the very best ‘me’ from within had emerged that day. By what divine signal this happened, I don’t know. No hesitation, doubt, nervousness, fear, the day’s exhaustion, or lethargy was affecting me at all. I felt incredibly composed and light as a feather. It felt as though whatever I was saying or doing was the best possible. I was experiencing the finest moment of my life right then and there. I can say with complete honesty that the style in which I spoke English that day—I have never in my entire life, even to this day, been able to speak English so flawlessly and fluently. That day the faculty members engaged in various kinds of humor during the interview. They were having great fun with me. Most likely, the faculty wanted to “shake me up” somehow. I don’t know why, by whose indication I don’t know, but I kept answering all their questions one by one with a very cool head and a smile that day. They interviewed me in English on various diverse topics, starting from describing the entire day’s events and the preceding Facebook incidents to many other subjects. (Of course, at IBA there’s absolutely no opportunity to give interviews in Bengali.) Why I wanted to pursue an MBA, why IBA if I was going to take government job exams anyway, my weaknesses, whether I’d ever been in love, how I spend my leisure time, some conversation about reading books, various economic issues of Bangladesh, some personal and family matters, my future plans, the breathless motorcycle journey from A to Z, the BCS examination system, why I went into engineering despite having no interest, why I delayed my honors degree, why I didn’t study properly, why my CGPA was so low, what I like to eat, what kind of personality I prefer in people, what I know about IBA, some current affairs, and several other questions. I was answering very quickly in correct English. The faculty praised this too. I gave a very simple, straightforward, and candid interview. I didn’t speak a single false word that day.

I didn’t need to think before speaking—whatever came to mind, I simply said, so there was no chance to fabricate lies. At the end, they asked me to sing a song. When I said, “I can’t, Sir,” Babu Sir showed me my info-form and laughed, saying, “But you’ve claimed so.” I had written Reading, Writing, Singing in the hobbies section… At that moment, it felt like I was living the best day of my life. I sang, “Aaj ei dintake…” “I see, we’re getting a singer for our cultural program!” As Saiful Majid Sir was saying this, Babu Sir interjected, “Sir, he has another exam tomorrow. He’ll probably be flying back to Chittagong tonight.” Then three or four teachers exclaimed in unison, “What! He’s going back to Chittagong right now? Well then, run along, run along! Go downstairs and see if your superman biker is there! Hahahaha…” As I was leaving with my salaam, the teachers called out, “Best of luck for your tomorrow’s exam.” I kept thinking, again and again—I’ll make it, I’ll make it! (Even after giving the BCS viva, I didn’t feel this good.)

When I stepped out of IBA, it was half past seven on the clock. I knew there was no way I could catch the 7:45 flight. I also knew that I had no idea how I would get to Chittagong that night. I didn’t even feel like thinking about it. Only the exhilarating rush of having given a good exam was coursing through me. Pappu and Arefin had been waiting for me at Madhu’s canteen. Taking them along, I went to the front of Dhaka University’s Central Library and leisurely began eating vegetable pakoras and tea. Many of my students studied in various departments at Dhaka University. Quite a few came to see me. They were asking what questions had been asked in the interview. After a day of incredible experiences, my head had become almost entirely empty. I couldn’t understand why I wasn’t feeling the slightest urgency to return to Chittagong. Pappu asked, “Brother, will you take the night bus?” I said, “Yes, that could work.” (It amuses me now to think how casually I had said ‘that could work’!) The road conditions weren’t good then either, there were always traffic jams. It didn’t even occur to me—what would happen if I couldn’t reach by 10 AM tomorrow? Ripon, a dear younger brother who lived in Chittagong and was one of my former students, said, “Brother, I have a non-AC train ticket; for Turna Nishitha, leaving tonight. It doesn’t matter if I don’t go to Chittagong today. Brother, you take it.” “Alright, fine,” I said, took the ticket, and set off toward Kamalapur Station. That night the train left nearly an hour and a half late. I didn’t even want to think about what was going to happen! I had already surrendered myself to fate long before. In my mind I kept repeating only this: whatever will be, will be. Whether I want it or not, it will happen. And whatever is happening is surely for the good; whatever will happen will surely be for the good too. Let’s see! After the day’s exhaustion, I had a very peaceful sleep. Suddenly I woke up hearing commotion around me. The train had stopped at Comilla. Apparently there was some problem with the line. We were delayed there for nearly two and a quarter hours. I couldn’t understand why I wasn’t feeling any kind of anxiety! I fell asleep again. Sleep is the world’s only faithful lover. Whenever I want it, I find it near. Never, under any circumstances, does it abandon me. There can be no purer love than the love for sleep.

When the train reached Chittagong railway station the next day, it was a quarter to ten in the morning. My exam was scheduled to start at ten. It takes only fifteen minutes to get from the station to my house. When I got home, I found my mother sitting there with everything ready in her hands—my pencil box, board, scale, pen, calculator, admit card, registration card, all of it. My parents had been terribly anxious at home. I hadn’t been able to speak to them since after half past one at night. My mobile had run out of charge. (I was using a cheap Nokia 1100 mobile set back then. Everyone called it the “national set”! It was so sturdy that many would joke, “Dude, you could crack jackfruit with that phone!” I’d tease my friends who used expensive mobiles, saying, “My phone’s model is ‘N Eleven Zero Zero’!”) As soon as my mother saw me, she said, “Dear, how are you? Will you take today’s exam?” I felt emotionally numb. It seemed as though I was lighter than a feather at that moment, floating around in some kind of trance! I smiled and said, “Ma, I’m perfectly fine. I’ll take the exam.” Saying this, I took the packed shopping bag from my mother’s hands and left the house just as I was. It was 10:05 on the clock. From our house to the exam center, it takes at least thirty minutes by CNG during office hours. When I reached the college gate, it was 10:43. That day was the mathematical reasoning and mental ability test. The first two hours were mathematical reasoning, followed by one hour of mental ability. The exam had already started forty-three minutes earlier. Naturally, the police wouldn’t let me enter. I pleaded extensively, kept trying futilely to explain what had happened, but they weren’t willing to listen to anything. But I had made up my mind—I wasn’t going to turn back, I would get inside no matter what. A small commotion started gathering there. Seeing the crowd, the magistrate came over. After hearing my entire story, he said, “You only have one hour left. Can you finish all the math problems in this time?” Without a moment’s hesitation, I said, “I can, sir!” “Alright, go ahead. Good luck!” My heart overflowed with gratitude toward him. At that moment, he seemed to me not human, but divine! I went in, looked at the questions, took the exam. I even showed three problems to the person sitting next to me. (He got a job in Audit and Accounts in the 30th batch.) I scored 98 on that day’s exam—50 in math, 48 in mental ability. After that… well, as everyone says—the rest is history!

But this much is true: had that day’s exam been something other than mathematics, I would have been in real trouble. I can handle math because the type of problems that appeared in the BCS written exam back then weren’t particularly difficult for me to solve. Such problems don’t strain the mind much, and the 30th BCS written exam featured relatively easy math. Even if I worked through each step carefully and added side notes, it shouldn’t have taken more than half an hour. It didn’t for me either. However, spending two and a half hours on the International Affairs exam the day before had been risky. Actually, no matter how incredible the whole affair might seem, everything appears to have been predetermined by the Creator or nature itself. What remains inexplicable to our limited understanding is simply a natural, ordinary occurrence for the Creator. All our failures and successes are already decided beforehand. But to reach that point, the effort—or making the right decision at the right time—that we must do ourselves. I wasn’t even supposed to pass my undergraduate degree. Yet it was my destiny to complete my undergraduate studies, become a BCS cadre, study at IBA—all of it was written in my fate. Had my destiny been bound elsewhere, I would have gone there instead. I had enrolled in another master’s program under Dhaka University—MDS. After continuing that course for three months, I left it of my own accord. They had said I would need to officially hide the fact that I was simultaneously pursuing another master’s at IBA. I refused to lie. I harbor no regret about this, though. I’ve accepted that pursuing that particular master’s degree simply wasn’t written in my destiny. This is the truth, this is reality. I had gained admission to Dhaka University’s Evening MBA program in Finance, ranking sixth on the merit list, but never had to attend classes there. I received my IBA admission test results before that. I did complete my master’s in Finance from Dhaka University, but the Evening MBA program wasn’t destined for me, so I didn’t pursue my master’s degree from there.

Stepping into two boats in the middle of a river ensures certain death. Logic dictates this. But I placed my feet in two boats, taking the maximum risk—I had no other choice—yet both boats moved forward in parallel at the same speed at the same time, so I didn’t slip between them and lose my life. What explanation could there be for this? Life doesn’t follow logic; life follows the Creator’s signals. Life doesn’t always operate according to explanations. Sometimes life moves on faith. So there’s nothing to say about anyone’s personal philosophy and the life they live according to their beliefs, as long as that life doesn’t interfere with someone else’s way of living. Somewhere, no explicable form of life can be seen, and life is just like this!

Through sheer mental strength alone, I had believed that some miracle would surely occur. It did happen, because in Providence’s master plan, that’s what was meant to happen. Everything in between was the Creator’s games or plans to test my patience and concentration. You will never be given a gift you don’t deserve. You will be tested, and if you fail to pass that test, you will deprive yourself of the Creator’s grace through your own fault. I’m sharing with you the Facebook status I posted after the IBA admission test results came out, along with a couple of my own comments on it:

Friends, I’ve been finally selected for admission into the MBA Program of IBA, Dhaka University. …… feeling happy. ……. HATS OFF to Sharmeen didi, Ira madam & Romel bhai!!

# My dear friends….. Your gorgeous presence on my wall makes me think twice about the POWER of friendship & the MAGIC of love. YES……… They matter!! I just want to be with you forever. Please never say GOODBYE…. It hurts!! Your kindness and care mean a lot to me. You’ve always given me much more than I really deserve. Please accept my sincere GRATITUDE.

Happy Social Networking!!

Long live Facebook!!

My best wishes for our Friendship!!

……… Love you all ……

# (To one of my close friends) Dost, not reaching the Interview Session on 17 January at 5:30 pm was what I thought to be….. reaching there in time was what was written in my DESTINY….. And, I ended up calling it a MIRACLE, something I never believed in before…… Just have a look at the schedule of 17 January……

International Affairs Exam (BCS written exam)…. 10:00 am — 1:00 pm

The departure time of the GMG Airlines: 3:20 pm, there was a delay of about 1 hour due to fog and I availed another delayed flight of Bangladesh Biman at 4:37 pm.

The plane landed on Dhaka Airport at 5:13 pm and then I started my fight against time to meet the deadline by bike with Romel bhai!! Who managed those three saviours (Sharmeen didi, Ira madam & Romel bhai) for me? I don’t know. You better ask the Heaven! I saw such a breath-taking motor-bike driving only in English movies. Before that day, I had never thought I would experience it!!

Life is sometimes stranger than fiction . . . . Who can tell it better than I?

# (To one of my senior high-profile Indian friends) Thank you Sir for your words of felicitation. IBA of Dhaka University is considered as the most prestigious institute for doing MBA in Bangladesh. As per the rules of that Business School, the Major/Field of Specialization is allowed to be chosen at the final semester judging the academic records & intention of a candidate. I don’t have much idea about what to choose and why to choose. Please share some ideas on it as you’ve huge practical knowledge (so far as I know) about the present corporate trend.

You’ve nicely stated the trend of our careerist B-school graduates. No one really cares about their own aptitude, rather, tries to be what market wants them to be. Personally, I always like the decision-making and mainstream operational sections of giant companies. And, probably I’ll go for finance as my major when I’ve to choose it in my final semester. Yes, my semester results must be well enough to work on my advantage. That’ll be a story of one and a half years later. Till then, I’ll have to undergo the generalized curriculum as my B-school formulates. The recent economic recession worries our friends studying at the US universities. And, almost all of them suggest me not to plan of staying there. But at the same time, they suggest me completing my PhD in the US if I want to and grab that opportunity. Let’s wait and see. . . . . Are you in India now? Hope you’re quite OK along with your busy schedule. Please, sometimes give me your valuable suggestions when you’ve time and you’re here on Facebook. . . . . Thank you once again for your helpful advice. Take care.

In explaining the final part of the status shared above, I had written these words:

Let me share the Story behind the Story and elucidate the last part of my status. It would have been quite impossible for me to reach Dhaka University from Dhaka International Airport within just 50 minutes (!!) to attend the interview session of IBA in time on Jan 17, but for the cordial help of Sharmeen didi (Sharmeen Muiz) & Ira madam (Johora Bebe Ira). They’re the persons who made that miracle happen!! And, Romel bhai (Monirul Alam Romel) is the “Man with the Bike” who dared fight against time to meet the deadline!! ……. I feel honoured to express my heartfelt gratitude to these three saviours. …….. Miracles Happen When You Believe!!

I conclude this piece with a beautifully strange comment Sharmeen didi made on that status: “My prayers, good wishes, and prayers remain with you. Dear brother of mine, may you grow to great heights. And may the successful reflection of our efforts (Ira’s and mine) shine through in everything you do. I was there, I am here, I will be there. …….. Heaps of hugs and love.”

What sustains a human being? We live on love, on prayers, on good wishes. These are what keep me alive—quite well alive, in fact. My gratitude!

P.S. Let me offer you some practical wisdom. Those who think they know too much, who consider themselves supremely intelligent, who speak in grand terms without any real qualifications or notable position, who try to diminish others even through outright lies, who pontificate without knowledge, who speak to you in such a manner that you begin to doubt your own confidence—I would advise you to absolutely, absolutely, and absolutely avoid such people. They themselves cannot go very far in life, nor will they allow you to go very far either.

(Written 2-3 years ago)

I have been meaning to write this piece for at least the past four years. Due to my characteristic laziness, it remained buried among my lost writings all this time. Unable to let it slip away entirely, I have resolved today to begin writing with the firm determination that, no matter how difficult it becomes, I will not leave this chair until it is finished. The trouble with not writing when one should is that the emotion and enthusiasm of that moment are lost, and often the writing fails to come alive. However, there are many exceptions to this. Sanjibchandra Chattopadhyay, the elder brother of Bankimchandra Chattopadhyay, worked for quite some time as a Deputy Magistrate in the exquisitely beautiful, remote forest region of Palamau. Many years later, he wrote ‘Palamau,’ a work born of memory and reflection. For those who have not yet read ‘Palamau,’ I will say just one thing to convey what kind of writing it is: when Bishwa Sahitya Kendra began its publishing work, everyone at the center was perplexed about which among so many masterpieces of world literature should be printed first. It was then that Abdullah Abu Sayeed decided that the first book published by Bishwa Sahitya Kendra would be ‘Palamau.’ But let me return to what I was saying. To discuss why writing intended to be written often never materializes would be to commit great injustice to oneself and others. So I shall not venture into that discussion. However, regarding this particular piece, I will only say this much: when attempting to describe one of life’s most incredible events, my hands tremble with excitement, memories blur, and a fear pervades my entire being—what would today have been like if everything that day had unfolded differently? I keep thinking that today would not have been anything like today. Today I would have been someone else entirely. Everything around me would have seemed like something else altogether. The truth is, life does not unfold the way we imagine it will. Life unfolds as life does. The color of life appears one way in imagination, but the actual color is different. Even if we think we will spend our lives playing with life itself, it does not necessarily follow that life will pass in precisely that manner. What will happen and what will not—all of this is predetermined. Our task is simply to perform brilliantly on this stage in our own way. The more skillful one’s performance, the more intimately one tastes the flavor of life.

The 30th BCS written examination began on January 11, 2011, and concluded on January 23. On the evening of Wednesday the 12th, I checked the IBA website at Dhaka University and discovered that I was among those who had passed the written portion of the MBA program admission test for the 45th batch. The candidates who passed the written exam would be divided into several groups for interviews, and my group was scheduled for Monday, January 17, at 10 AM at IBA. I had taken the BCS examination from Chittagong, where the PSC-designated examination center for Chittagong candidates was Omar Gani MES College. On the day of my IBA interview, the International Affairs exam was also scheduled to begin at 10 AM. Attending an exam at Dhaka University at the same time was simply impossible. I knew that IBA didn’t offer many second chances. Having secured this opportunity, I couldn’t imagine myself foolish or generous enough to let it slip away. Instead of studying for the next day’s Bangladesh Affairs Paper I, I began calling everyone I knew who had studied at IBA or was familiar with it. I still remember the intense excitement of that time. When something you desperately want comes within reach, yet circumstances force you to let it go—staying calm in such a moment is nearly impossible. Everyone I spoke with on the phone said the same thing: “You can’t have two good things at once. You’ll have to give up one of them. If you try to keep a foot in both boats, you’ll end up with neither. Besides, you can take the BCS exam again, and you can also take the IBA admission test again. Let go of one.” Those who valued the corporate sector highly told me to abandon BCS. Those who valued the civil service told me to pursue IBA later. No one could suggest a way to manage both. At that moment, neither option seemed bigger or smaller to me—my mind had gone completely blank, and I felt as though life was playing a game of Snakes and Ladders with me. The dice might roll such a number that I’d end up in the belly of a snake—but then again, it might not. Sometimes the number that comes up sends you climbing a ladder high above. Life’s Snakes and Ladders board doesn’t contain only snakes—there are ladders too! Who’s to say this throw won’t land on a ladder? Life is indeed like Snakes and Ladders, where the highest number isn’t necessarily the best. Perhaps I’d roll two sixes and then a five—totaling seventeen, the highest possible—yet still end up sliding down a long snake. But equally possible: rolling the smallest number, just one, and finding myself climbing rapidly up a ladder to great heights. Understanding the game of less is the most difficult thing of all! The highest number isn’t always the best. You must see how much is actually needed. Great income, great torment—what need is there for such a large sum? Knowing how to choose the right number for your life is a great art indeed!

I thought, why should I surrender before I’ve even lost? I’ll see this through to the end. At home, my parents were also saying, “Give up one of them.” My heart was telling me, “I won’t give up, not for anything!” Let me gamble with life this once and see what happens! You have to listen to your heart. I called the MBA Program Office. Zakir bhai was in charge there. He said, “IBA’s schedule doesn’t change for anyone. You change your schedule.” I said, “That’s not possible. You have several slots. BCS has only one.” Even after that he said, “It’s not possible in any way. We’re sorry!” Saying this, he hung up the phone, and my stubbornness only grew stronger. I put aside studying for the next day’s exam. After some inquiries, I learned that Rahi Sir was the Program Chairman for IBA’s MBA at the time. Only he could change my interview slot if he wanted to. Rahi Sir is an incredibly fierce person. IBA’s Marketing Department is the best in Bangladesh. Rahi Sir is the best faculty in that department. I got his number. The person I got the number from asked, “Are you really going to call Rahi Sir?” “Yes. Why?” “We students never dare to call Sir. And you’re going to call him for this?” “I will. I have to. My back is against the wall.” “God bless you, man! You better think twice.” I said, “Sometimes life doesn’t give you the opportunity to think twice. It’s the first and the only chance! I must grab it before it’s too late! I will call him. I’ll make my attempt—if it works, it works; if not, so be it. If I don’t try, it definitely won’t work. Thank you, bhai!” Right after finishing that conversation, without any second thoughts, I called Rahi Sir. A man with an extremely serious voice. It’s frightening just to speak with him. But I have nothing left to lose. I only know this: I passed IBA’s written exam and IBA has to conduct my interview. I had truly become reckless. I blurted out my entire problem in one breath. Rahi Sir said, “You silly kid! You’ve dared to call Rahi Sir for this! Did you think I am your friend? It’s not my business whether you can attend the viva board or not. You have only 2 choices: Leave IBA, or, Leave BCS.” To my infinite amazement, I heard myself saying, “Sir, I have called you to hear about the third choice. If you don’t have that, please make it for me. I know I’ll be at IBA.” Sir said very loudly over the phone, “You are a stupid little boy. You just know nothing about the things here! Don’t waste my time. I am busy!” “Sir, please give me a chance. I am………” I couldn’t make him hear any more—he hung up before that. I couldn’t understand what had happened, only felt an even stronger desire to believe that I would definitely study at IBA. BCS seemed to fade for a moment. Whatever happens in tomorrow’s exam will happen. Right now I need to sort out the IBA situation first. I called the program office again.

I asked, “When can I actually meet Rahi sir?” “What do you mean?” “Sir told me to come see him.” “Ask sir himself when you can actually meet him.” (I mustered the courage to lie….) “Sir said to call the program office and find out.” “He told you to ask us? Really! Alright, stay on the line, let me check sir’s class schedule.” Zakir bhai informed me that if I came next Friday evening, I could meet sir. Saying “thank you very much,” I hung up the phone and immediately left home to buy a bus ticket. From near Gariullah Shah’s shrine in Chittagong, I bought a ticket on Unique’s non-AC bus to Dhaka for Thursday night. The next day, under tremendous mental pressure, I took my Bangladesh Studies Paper 1 exam. Even in the exam hall, my mind kept racing: “Will Rahi sir keep his word?” In my answer sheet, I mistakenly wrote the word “Rahi” several times, though I crossed it out later.

I arrived at IBA before afternoon on Friday. I stood waiting in front of the MBA Program Office. Zakir bhai wasn’t there at the time—he came in the evening, two hours later. I went up and introduced myself. “Oh, I see, you’ve come from Chittagong. Rahi sir mentioned he would speak with you about changing your interview schedule? Really??” “Yes, he told me to come see him!” We were talking when Rahi sir arrived shortly after. He went straight through the program office into his room. A dignified man of serious disposition. His office was right next to the program office. Zakir bhai said, “Please sit on the sofa. Let me ask sir if he’s free right now.” When he told sir, “Someone named Sushanta Pal has come from Chittagong to see you—you had asked him to come,” sir immediately shouted quite loudly, “I didn’t ask anyone to come see me! Tell him to leave. Disgusting!” Zakir bhai told me, “Sir won’t see you. You should go.” “I’ll leave, but only after meeting with sir. Brother, I haven’t come here to turn back. I must see him.” Almost forcefully, I entered sir’s room without permission. After I said very politely, “Assalamu alaikum, sir,” he returned the greeting and said, “What do you want?” There were several other students in the room who had come to sir for various matters. “Sir, I called you the day before yesterday evening.” “Is it my duty to remember your call? Get out!” I said nothing and stood there with my head bowed. The words “Get out!” didn’t register in my mind. At that moment, I only knew that I would speak with Rahi sir about changing the schedule, and sir would surely agree to do so. After standing like this for nearly half an hour, sir said, “Why are you standing here like a statue?” I fearfully placed an application about changing the time slot on sir’s desk and began to say, “Sir, the day before yesterday I spoke with you on the phone…” “Speak in the language I am using now.” “Sir, my interview has been scheduled for next Monday at 10 in the morning. I am appearing for the 30th BCS written exam. I have an exam at the same time. So, I request you to shift my schedule to another convenient time slot.” “Sorry, we cannot.” “Please Sir! Otherwise, my dream to be here will be shattered.” “Let it be. Just go for BCS. You will do better being a civil servant.” “But Sir, it’s uncertain.” “Is being here certain for you?” “No Sir, that’s why I cannot leave any of these 2 opportunities. Please Sir, give me a chance. Do me a favour. I will be ever grateful, Sir.” “What time is your exam?” “10 o’clock, sir.” “How long?” “Three hours, sir.” “Okay fine, come straight here after your exam. Can you make it by 1:30?” I realized sir had forgotten that I’d come from Chittagong. “Sir, I’m taking the exam from Chittagong.” “Stupid! We cannot change our schedule for you! Are you Mr President?” “No Sir, I just want to be your student! I will do anything you tell me to do. Please give me a chance, Sir!” “Look, brother, you won’t be able to finish your exam at 1 o’clock and come from Chittagong to take the interview anyway.

You won’t make it even if you leave at 10 PM. The roads are in terrible condition, there’s heavy traffic.” “Sir, I can come in the evening.” “How? By plane?” “Yes, sir. Please give me a chance, sir.” “Alright. Don’t you have an exam the next day?” “I do, sir. I can manage. I’ll buy a return ticket.” “What time can you arrive?” “Whatever you say, sir.” “Your exam will end at 1 PM. Hmm… okay, can you make it to the 3 o’clock board?” “Yes sir, I can be there at 3.” “Do you know if there are flights at that time?” “I don’t know, sir. I’ll find out.” “I think there’s a flight around 3.” “What time can you arrive?” “4 o’clock, sir?” “Foolish boy! Your brain isn’t working. How can you take a 3 o’clock flight from Chittagong and get from the airport to IBA by 4? You have no idea about Dhaka city. Okay, you come by 5:15 sharp. You will be last person in that board. If you come after that, nothing can be done. The evening board is for Executive MBA. It won’t be possible to hold your viva there. Okay?” “Thank you, sir.” “Youngman, you have decided to play with your life! Best of luck!” “Please pray for me, sir. I can do this!” Tears came to my eyes. I realized that though this man appeared stern on the outside, he was very gentle within. I offered many prayers for the sir and left IBA. I went to Aziz and bought some books. Then I went to Fakirapul and took the 10 PM non-AC bus from Unique, reaching Chittagong in the morning.

I’m sharing the application with you:

15 January 2011

The Program Director, MBA Program

Institute of Business Administration

University of Dhaka

Dhaka

Subject: Prayer for changing the time slot of the interview schedule of the MBA Program Admission

Sir,

This letter expresses my earnest request to change my interview schedule of the MBA Program Admission 2010-2011. I am a candidate for Full-Time Course, my admit number is 2745 and I am on Interview Board 6 scheduled to be conducted at the 10:00 am to 1:00 pm time slot on January 17, 2011. I am appearing at the 30th BCS written examination and my Examination Centre is at Chittagong. I have an examination on January 17, 2011, coincided with the same time slot of the interview and so it is not possible for me to come from Chittagong and attend the interview at 10:00 am.

I will be highly obliged if you kindly permit me to attend the interview at the 6:00 pm to 8:30 pm time slot scheduled for Evening Board 3 and Evening Board 4 on January 17, 2011.

Yours faithfully

Sushanta Paul

I had never been on a plane before. I thought that wherever you go, you need a passport to fly. My elder brother called a friend who works with passport services and asked what documents are needed for an emergency passport to Dhaka. He burst out laughing! He said, “Buddy, what do you need a passport for? A plane and a bus are the same thing. One flies in the sky, the other runs on the road. That’s all there is to it! Just go buy a ticket. That’s it! Which one is good? You can go with GMG. That’s pretty good.” I didn’t know that you don’t have to rush to the airport to buy a plane ticket. I had no idea how much tickets cost. Getting off the bus in the morning, I went straight to a Dutch-Bangla Bank booth and withdrew ten thousand taka. Then I jumped into a CNG and rushed to the airport. I bought a ticket from the GMG Airlines counter for the 3:20 flight on Monday, the 17th. That was the first Chittagong-Dhaka flight of the afternoon. I booked a return ticket for the same day on the 7:45 evening flight. I felt like I could see it right before my eyes—me attending classes at IBA! Such a strange vision! I returned home with a victorious smile, almost as if I had already gotten into IBA! At night, I tried to prepare from various guides and the internet about what they might ask in the IBA interview. I studied for about 4-5 hours. At the same time, I posted a status on Facebook: How much time does it take to reach Dhaka University from Dhaka International Airport? Is it possible to reach in 40 minutes? Friends, any suggestion, please? I was truly a very simple person back then. I saw the world in very simple terms. Since I hadn’t visited Dhaka much, I didn’t know that in 2011 it wasn’t possible to get from the airport to Shahbag in 40 minutes. Everyone was saying it would take a minimum of two hours to get from the airport to the university campus in the afternoon. All sorts of bizarre comments came in reply to my status. Many started making fun of me. I’ll share some of my friends’ suggestions: “It’s possible if you run.” “It would be great if you jogged to the university. You’d get your evening exercise too!” “You shouldn’t have bought that plane ticket! With that money, if you had thrown us a party, we all would have prayed together and your BCS would have worked out! Hahahaha…..” “Young man! You’re young, just run as soon as you get off the plane! You’ll see, you’ll reach before time!” “Listen, such-and-such bus runs on such-and-such route. Hanging and sleeping, you’ll reach IBA just fine!” I got many such absurd comments. I knew absolutely nothing about Dhaka then. When you’re in trouble, doesn’t everyone have to give you a kick? It began to feel like that’s just how life is! People can’t extend a hand to pull you up, but they can certainly extend a foot to kick you down! Without getting the least bit discouraged by anyone’s words, I kept waiting to see if someone would give some good advice. I didn’t react to anyone’s reply that day. How helplessly calm a person becomes when in trouble. All I knew was this: “I’m giving my IBA interview on the 17th.” One person wrote, “You can go by bike. There’s no faster way to reach the university campus.” Some people even supported that idea. A few mentioned taxi cabs. Support was strongest for the bike option. Up until then, I had ridden a bike maybe 2-3 times in my entire life, counting generously. I didn’t really know anyone in Dhaka who had a bike, or if I did know someone, my mind wasn’t working at all then. Sometimes I think now, alas!

I couldn’t even afford to manage a bike at that time. I wrote, “My flight is scheduled to land at Dhaka Airport at 4.10 pm on 17 January. I must reach Dhaka University at or before 5.15 pm. I’ve an interview at IBA at that time. . . . Can’t I do it? Is it not possible? I need to do it at any cost. As I don’t know about the routes of Dhaka City, I’m asking for your help. Dhaka City is an unknown city to me. Can a taxi cab help me reach there in 1 hour? I can’t be late, otherwise I’ll miss the interview schedule. I’ve managed that schedule today through an application. . . Can a bike be a better solution? Or, something else? I’m in great trouble. . . .” After posting this, the mocking and laughter began all over again. I replied to the distinguished gentleman (one of Bangladesh’s most successful businessmen) who had advised me to jog there: “Thank you Sir for you ‘jogging’ suggestion. I was also seriously thinking of this option. Yes, I’ll surely manage to reach in time by vehicles, on foot, again by vehicles, again on foot . . . . And, I’ll go. I’ll be there in time by any means.” Someone said, “Change the schedule once more.” I wrote, “The schedule can’t be changed! Hopefully, there will happen some miracle and I’ll manage to avail the schedule in time.” A younger brother wrote, “Brother, you should go by taxi-cab. But you could try the bus once. Dhaka buses run quite well!” I replied, “Brother, I’m not surely making any attempt of getting on a bus! That’ll be horrible, you know. I was just seeking for a suggestion as I don’t know about the route. Thanks for the suggestion. I think a CNG powered taxi can help me in this regard. A taxi-cab is prone to getting stuck up in the congestion forever. A bike could be a better solution. But, I can’t manage it.”

Mrs. Zohra, whose name was Ira—an extremely distinguished lady—commented, “You need a bike?” “That would be wonderful.” “Alright, let me see what I can do.” She was the Deputy Managing Director of ONE Bank. After completing her studies in Chemistry from Chittagong University, she had done her MBA from IBA. She worked in the corporate sector, but there were very few people who didn’t know her. I have a sister. Her name is Sharmin Muiz Khan. At that time, she was one of those rare souls who loved someone as insignificant as me far more than necessary, showered me with affection for no particular reason. She was almost my mother’s age, but I addressed her as ‘tumi’ and she called me ‘tui’. She had studied English Literature at Dhaka University. She particularly loved my writing. She was a business magnate and had connections with many prominent people. I have rarely seen a lady as distinguished, refined, elegant, and utterly graceful as her. She commented, “Bappi, someone needs to grab you and give you a good thrashing. Are you enjoying confusing everyone by calling them all the time? Please stop wasting your time browsing Facebook and concentrate on tomorrow’s exam. Otherwise, you’re calling for another disaster. There is a saying: ‘Que sera, sera’ meaning: Whatever will be, will be. So, pray and try your best. I have given this opinion after a lot of serious thoughts. Please follow it. You will leave here right now. I don’t want to see you making even one more comment! MIRACLES HAPPEN IF YOU BELIEVE IN YOURSELF!” I replied, “Didi, things are that they’re. Things will be that they will be. And, between this two there lie some miracles that we’re never aware of. And, miracles are often stranger than facts. Facts are because they’re. Miracles are because we or someone else wants them to be. That’s the truth!” She called Mrs. Zohra. She said, “Look Ira, my brother has gotten into a bit of trouble. The poor thing is a simple soul, we should do something for him. Can’t you arrange a bike for him?” A little while later, I saw a message from Mrs. Zohra in my inbox: “Please give me your contact number. Regards” I gave it immediately. The call came within seconds. After introducing herself, she said, “You need a bike Monday at 4 PM, right?” “That would be wonderful.” “OK, a bike will be there for you at 4. My colleague Romel will pick you. Alright?” “I am truly, truly grateful. Thank you so very much!” “Let’s get the work done first, then you can thank me. I’m texting you Romel’s number. Take care.” She hung up immediately. I wrote to her: “Life is stranger than fiction, I repeat. From myself, I’ve got much less than I truly deserve. From others, I’ve got much more than I truly deserve. Is it the thing that they call miracle? I don’t know and never try to know. I let miracles happen and thankfully they always happen . . . . . . . Thank you for your generous approach. This really means a lot to me.” I wrote my piece. I don’t know if she ever read it or had the time to read it. Noble souls don’t wait for thanks. Besides, she was truly, truly busy.

He was the head of the credit section at One Bank. He had no reason to know a nobody like me, yet he knew me through my writing. Otherwise, I would never have had the privilege of speaking with him directly. And the fact that Sharmin didi had spoken to him about me—that was a big deal too. The next day was the Bangladesh Affairs Paper 2 exam. I went to sleep without studying any of it. The day after, straight from the exam hall, I went to the Westex showroom at Probortak intersection. My life’s first interview. I was incredibly excited! I had decided I’d go to the interview board wearing everything brand new. I bought a formal white shirt, black pants, black tie, black belt, black socks, white undershirt, and brown shoes. Later, from Gallery Apex I bought formal Oxford shoes, and from Time Zone a Titan wristwatch, then returned home in the evening. Seeing my antics, Ma was laughing. “Ma, why are you laughing?” “Just because, dear.” The funny thing was, Ma went with me to the exam hall every single day. She always kept me close, just like a child. Ma said, “Tomorrow I’m going to the airport with you.” And she did go—despite my protests.

Monday, the 17th. International Affairs exam. I couldn’t stay in the exam hall for the entire time due to nerves. I don’t have a car, what if the CNG takes too long to reach the airport! What if I miss the flight! The flight was at 3:20. And it takes at least 2 hours to reach the airport from Omar Gani MES College by 1 PM. Our written exam had been during winter. In the bitter cold, my fingers would freeze. Still, I kept rubbing my palms together to warm them, blowing hot breath into the hollow of my cupped hands, and wrote with all my strength. Instead of 1 o’clock, I finished the exam at 12:30, submitted my paper, and rushed out. When I emerged from the hall and reached the gate, everyone thought I must have been expelled! The intense stress was clearly written all over my face. Many showed me sympathy, told me not to worry, advised me to do better in the next BCS. I didn’t have time to respond. What could I say anyway—at that moment, life itself was one giant question mark for me! I don’t know what strength possessed my mother. She ran almost twice as fast as me, covering the distance from the college campus to the road. We got into a CNG without bargaining, paying nearly one and a half times the normal fare. I told the driver, “However you manage it, get us to the airport within two hours. If necessary, I’ll pay you extra.” It was 12:50 on the clock. The CNG started speeding. Mother opened the tiffin box and fed me khichuri, meat, and fried egg. One thought kept spinning in my head: “Will I catch the plane? If we get stuck in traffic, it’s all over!” I took off my sweater. I had left home that morning wearing my viva outfit, everything except the tie. After escaping two minor traffic jams, when we reached the airport, it was 5 minutes to 3. As soon as I got down, I touched my mother’s and aunt’s feet in respect (a distant aunt had come with us since mother couldn’t return home from the airport alone) and ran to the counter. There I learned that the flight was delayed by an hour due to dense fog. I thought, if the plane leaves at that time, there’s no way I can reach IBA by 5:15. I informed the counter staff about this. They said there was nothing they could do; they were very sorry. I inquired and learned that no other flights were departing at that time either. At that moment, I felt utterly helpless, just wanting to cry. I felt like I had no one, no one at all! I kept going from counter to counter. I found out there was a Bangladesh Biman flight departing at 3:45. There was no other flight before that. It was a bigger plane, taking 30 minutes to reach, whereas other planes take at least 40 minutes. Meaning, I would reach Dhaka airport by 4:15! I bought the ticket right then. There was great hope in my heart—if this one leaves on time, there’s nothing more to worry about. I went to the airport restroom and quickly put on my tie. I adjusted my shirt once more. Looking in the mirror, I fixed my hair with my hand. The clock hand crossed 4 after passing 3:45. The plane was delayed due to fog. We all boarded the plane at 4:15. It was my first time on a plane. I kept thinking, when will it take off, when will it take off! Every second felt like an hour! The tension was making it hard to breathe, yet the plane wouldn’t take off. I thought, oh! If only I could spend all my strength to make this plane soar into the sky! I pressed my handkerchief over my eyes to hide my tears. Finally, the plane took off. It was 4:37 on the clock. I was thinking, oh!

The plane could have taken off directly without taxiing! At least a couple of minutes would have been saved! The plane landed on Dhaka’s runway at 5:13.

I burst out of the domestic terminal running with all my might, and gasping for breath, I saw a motorcycle come to a stop right in front of me. “You’re Sushanta, right? Get on the back!” I extended my hand to shake hands with the young man in the black helmet. He didn’t raise his black-gloved right fist for a handshake. “Time’s wasting, brother! Please get on! Quick!” I didn’t argue further. “You’re not used to riding bikes, are you?” “Yes. How did you know?” “Brother, I’ve been riding bikes for the past 18-20 years. I can tell.” “I see.” “Lean forward and press your chest firmly against my back! You can even wrap your arms around me, otherwise you’ll get thrown off. For sure! I’m going to ride fast.” The way that bike tore out of the airport—I don’t have the courage to even think about it today. Under normal circumstances, I might have screamed in fear and told him to stop, or I really would have been thrown off. But at that moment I knew that being afraid was important, but far more important was reaching IBA alive. I don’t know if the wheels of that 150cc bike actually touched the ground that day, but for the second time in my life I understood this truth: you cannot frighten someone who stakes their life to touch their dreams. I had only seen bikes racing so recklessly on the roads in movies. The bike was literally cutting through the whooshing sound of wind, as if flying through the air! “Say brother, are you somebody really important?” “What do you mean?” “Well, Madam told me that one of her very important friends had to be delivered from the airport to IBA within half an hour, no matter what. That was her order! Who are you, brother? Hahahaha………” “I’m Madam’s Facebook friend.” “What are you saying, man? How’s that possible! I was thinking even more… you mean you’ve never even met her?” “No, brother. Why?” (There’s a railway crossing ahead. The barrier is coming down.) “Brother, duck your head a little.” Saying this, he quickly rode the bike under the barrier without obeying the signal. Many people behind us were shouting for us to stop. “Brother, just don’t be afraid. Nothing will happen. You can close your eyes if you want.” Right at that moment, while quickly emerging from between two trucks standing side by side, he said, “Sit a bit smaller, brother!” A little further ahead—massive traffic jam at a signal! Romel bhai lifted the bike onto the sidewalk. “Brother, please give way a little, give way a little,” he kept saying as he raced forward. He had to do this several times. Sometimes when riding on the central divider in the middle of the road, traffic police would catch us, and he’d say in a tearful voice, “Sir, my aunt is fighting for her life in the medical college. I’m going to donate blood. O-negative blood—we can’t find any. If I don’t reach on time, we won’t be able to save my aunt, sir!” He’d manage the police with this story and then race off at the same speed again! Whenever there was a traffic jam on the road, he’d immediately change to another road. That day I learned that when obstacles appear on the road, it doesn’t mean there is no road. Rather, it means you have to take a different road! Right now!! I had only seen such daredevil biking in Hollywood action movies. Looking at my hair in the bike’s mirror, it seemed as if it had stood up straight after an electric shock! My face was covered with dust from the city. In the fierce wind, my tie was flying behind me in the air. I don’t know if anyone has ever seen a bike race so recklessly through Dhaka’s roads during rush hour. But for some reason, I truly wasn’t afraid at all. I kept thinking over and over, “How quickly can one reach IBA!” Romel bhai had finished his honors and master’s from Dhaka College before joining the bank. I had asked him, “What’s your designation at the bank?” He had joked, “Not much, just 14 more promotions and I’ll be able to sit in Zohra Madam’s chair. Hahaha…….”

When I arrived in front of IBA, my watch showed 5:52. As I got down, I saw my younger brother Pappu and his friend Arefin standing there. At that time, I had my gift shop ‘Dobhana.’ Pappu and Arefin were my working partners. They often came to Dhaka from Chawk Bazaar in Old Dhaka to buy wholesale goods for the shop. I had withdrawn myself from the shop to focus on my BCS exam preparation. They ran everything. They were already in Dhaka on shop business. I had told them to go to the IBA MBA program office and keep me updated by phone about the viva board situation. Through repeated conversations with them, I was checking whether the interview board was still there, asking them to go to the program office and explain that I couldn’t arrive on time due to flight delays, terrible traffic jams, and so on. As soon as I got down, they informed me, “Bhaiya, the board left 4-5 minutes ago. Now only the Executive MBA viva remains.” After introducing them to Romel bhai, I rushed up to the MBA program office on the second floor. As soon as they saw me, everyone there stopped their work and looked at me. I saw Rahi Sir busy with something; he didn’t respond to my greeting. “Sir, I’m very late. Despite trying hard, I couldn’t arrive on time. I…” Without giving me a chance to say anything more, he shouted, “You Idiot! Get out!” “Sir, I…” “I said, Get out! Out! Out!! I knew very well that you wouldn’t be able to come on time. Is it possible to take one exam in Chittagong and then come to Dhaka for another exam? That easy? You’ve just wasted my time! I had told everyone that a boy from Chittagong would come at 5:15, and we needed to take his viva. Did you think I am a joker?” “Sir, I came here with great difficulty. The flight was delayed, there was heavy traffic on the road. I really…” “It’s none of my business! Get out! Go back where you came from.” “Sir, I had many dreams of studying at IBA.” “Everyone on the street has such dreams. I gave you a chance but you missed it. That’s all! Get out of here.” “Sir, please have some mercy…” (I felt like falling at his feet and crying…) Right beside him sat a gentle-looking gentleman much younger than the sir. He said, “Sir, I’ve heard about him. His younger brother kept coming to our program office. They had been standing in front of the office for hours. His flight was indeed delayed. And there’s heavy traffic in Dhaka today too. A friend of mine came to my room from the airport a while ago; it took him a long time to get here too. Give him a chance, Sir. He’s come so far, taking such risks with great difficulty! He apparently has another written exam tomorrow too. The poor fellow has to return to Chittagong today itself.” “Son, you junior faculty members don’t even know what you’re saying, what kind of requests you make. Why are you pleading for him? Is he your relative or something?” “No no Sir, I’m seeing him for the first time today. Just look at his face once, Sir. He’s really come here with great difficulty. Please do him a favor, Sir.” “You have no idea what you are talking about! Will the Executive MBA viva be the same as theirs? They have 3 years of job experience, while these are just children in comparison!

“This won’t be possible, brother. I am sorry!” “Sir, please help the poor fellow a bit. He’s come such a long way with so much hope!” “Son, we can’t manage anything more for you!” I stood a little distance away, head bowed. Looking at me, he called out loudly, “Hey, stupid! Why are you standing there like a donkey? Go on, go to the third floor! Go and stand there absolutely quietly. We’ll call you.” I truly couldn’t understand whether such a beautiful moment had ever come anywhere in this world before! Tears began streaming down my face. I prayed again and again from my heart for Babu sir. Rahi sir seemed like a father figure to me. I kept remembering mother’s words: “Never get angry at teachers’ scolding. When teachers scold, it means blessings.” Overwhelmed with emotion, as I was about to leave after thanking and saluting the teachers, Rahi sir called from behind, “Hey crazy boy! Comb your hair before entering the board! Wash your face at the basin! Don’t be so scared! Hahaha…” I couldn’t say anything more. I kept staring blankly at sir’s face. My cheeks were wet with tears from both eyes. Babu sir placed his hand on my shoulder and said, “Go on, go upstairs and wait. We are not that much bad people as you thought us to be. Sometimes even the IBA faculties are too good! Freshen up, give your interview properly, now there’s no tension anymore. What’s your exam tomorrow?” “Sir, Mathematical Reasoning and Mental Ability.” “How will you go?” “Sir, I have a return plane ticket.” “Good! Brother, splash some water on your eyes and face to fix your appearance. Give your viva quickly and rush to the airport! Good luck!” At that moment I felt like touching sir’s feet in salute. People get frightened by sudden intense love. For the first time, it suddenly struck me: “What if I can’t honor this love of my teachers? What if I don’t get a chance at IBA in the end?”

When we find ourselves in trouble, if our intentions are pure, a way out always emerges! I went to the washroom on the third floor and tried my best to “make myself presentable” by wetting my hair and smoothing it down. After splashing water on my face, I went and waited in front of the notice board. I was called after 10 minutes. It was nearly seven o’clock. When I entered the room, I saw many faculty members seated there. I hadn’t known that so many would be present for an interview. I thought this was perhaps how IBA interviews were conducted. I later learned that this entire panel had been assembled just for me. Apart from Babu Sir and Rahi Sir, I didn’t recognize anyone else. After getting admitted, I realized that those present that evening were IBA’s most senior and accomplished faculty members. The board included Saiful Majid Sir, Shama-e-Zahir Sir, Mamun Sir, Munir Khosru Sir, Niaz Sir, and Saif Noman Khan Sir. Most of the junior faculty had finished their interviews and gone home, while some senior faculty were in their offices conducting Executive MBA interviews. Some of them had been specially called in. I was in the interview for about 18-20 minutes. Many of the faculty members knew about my situation that day. I had heard of something called “divine possession” in life. At certain special moments, due to particular external influences or circumstances, people suddenly gain extraordinary power. In those moments, they step outside their normal state and display different behavior. They can harness the utmost potential of their inner infinite strength. In that wondrous balanced fusion of emotion and capability, the best version of themselves emerges. From the moment I entered the interview room, I had very likely become a different person, or perhaps the very best ‘me’ from within had emerged that day. By what divine signal this happened, I don’t know. No hesitation, doubt, nervousness, fear, the day’s exhaustion, or lethargy was affecting me at all. I felt incredibly composed and light as a feather. It felt as though whatever I was saying or doing was the best possible. I was experiencing the finest moment of my life right then and there. I can say with complete honesty that the style in which I spoke English that day—I have never in my entire life, even to this day, been able to speak English so flawlessly and fluently. That day the faculty members engaged in various kinds of humor during the interview. They were having great fun with me. Most likely, the faculty wanted to “shake me up” somehow. I don’t know why, by whose indication I don’t know, but I kept answering all their questions one by one with a very cool head and a smile that day. They interviewed me in English on various diverse topics, starting from describing the entire day’s events and the preceding Facebook incidents to many other subjects. (Of course, at IBA there’s absolutely no opportunity to give interviews in Bengali.) Why I wanted to pursue an MBA, why IBA if I was going to take government job exams anyway, my weaknesses, whether I’d ever been in love, how I spend my leisure time, some conversation about reading books, various economic issues of Bangladesh, some personal and family matters, my future plans, the breathless motorcycle journey from A to Z, the BCS examination system, why I went into engineering despite having no interest, why I delayed my honors degree, why I didn’t study properly, why my CGPA was so low, what I like to eat, what kind of personality I prefer in people, what I know about IBA, some current affairs, and several other questions. I was answering very quickly in correct English. The faculty praised this too. I gave a very simple, straightforward, and candid interview. I didn’t speak a single false word that day.

I didn’t need to think before speaking—whatever came to mind, I simply said, so there was no chance to fabricate lies. At the end, they asked me to sing a song. When I said, “I can’t, Sir,” Babu Sir showed me my info-form and laughed, saying, “But you’ve claimed so.” I had written Reading, Writing, Singing in the hobbies section… At that moment, it felt like I was living the best day of my life. I sang, “Aaj ei dintake…” “I see, we’re getting a singer for our cultural program!” As Saiful Majid Sir was saying this, Babu Sir interjected, “Sir, he has another exam tomorrow. He’ll probably be flying back to Chittagong tonight.” Then three or four teachers exclaimed in unison, “What! He’s going back to Chittagong right now? Well then, run along, run along! Go downstairs and see if your superman biker is there! Hahahaha…” As I was leaving with my salaam, the teachers called out, “Best of luck for your tomorrow’s exam.” I kept thinking, again and again—I’ll make it, I’ll make it! (Even after giving the BCS viva, I didn’t feel this good.)

When I stepped out of IBA, it was half past seven on the clock. I knew there was no way I could catch the 7:45 flight. I also knew that I had no idea how I would get to Chittagong that night. I didn’t even feel like thinking about it. Only the exhilarating rush of having given a good exam was coursing through me. Pappu and Arefin had been waiting for me at Madhu’s canteen. Taking them along, I went to the front of Dhaka University’s Central Library and leisurely began eating vegetable pakoras and tea. Many of my students studied in various departments at Dhaka University. Quite a few came to see me. They were asking what questions had been asked in the interview. After a day of incredible experiences, my head had become almost entirely empty. I couldn’t understand why I wasn’t feeling the slightest urgency to return to Chittagong. Pappu asked, “Brother, will you take the night bus?” I said, “Yes, that could work.” (It amuses me now to think how casually I had said ‘that could work’!) The road conditions weren’t good then either, there were always traffic jams. It didn’t even occur to me—what would happen if I couldn’t reach by 10 AM tomorrow? Ripon, a dear younger brother who lived in Chittagong and was one of my former students, said, “Brother, I have a non-AC train ticket; for Turna Nishitha, leaving tonight. It doesn’t matter if I don’t go to Chittagong today. Brother, you take it.” “Alright, fine,” I said, took the ticket, and set off toward Kamalapur Station. That night the train left nearly an hour and a half late. I didn’t even want to think about what was going to happen! I had already surrendered myself to fate long before. In my mind I kept repeating only this: whatever will be, will be. Whether I want it or not, it will happen. And whatever is happening is surely for the good; whatever will happen will surely be for the good too. Let’s see! After the day’s exhaustion, I had a very peaceful sleep. Suddenly I woke up hearing commotion around me. The train had stopped at Comilla. Apparently there was some problem with the line. We were delayed there for nearly two and a quarter hours. I couldn’t understand why I wasn’t feeling any kind of anxiety! I fell asleep again. Sleep is the world’s only faithful lover. Whenever I want it, I find it near. Never, under any circumstances, does it abandon me. There can be no purer love than the love for sleep.

When the train reached Chittagong railway station the next day, it was a quarter to ten in the morning. My exam was scheduled to start at ten. It takes only fifteen minutes to get from the station to my house. When I got home, I found my mother sitting there with everything ready in her hands—my pencil box, board, scale, pen, calculator, admit card, registration card, all of it. My parents had been terribly anxious at home. I hadn’t been able to speak to them since after half past one at night. My mobile had run out of charge. (I was using a cheap Nokia 1100 mobile set back then. Everyone called it the “national set”! It was so sturdy that many would joke, “Dude, you could crack jackfruit with that phone!” I’d tease my friends who used expensive mobiles, saying, “My phone’s model is ‘N Eleven Zero Zero’!”) As soon as my mother saw me, she said, “Dear, how are you? Will you take today’s exam?” I felt emotionally numb. It seemed as though I was lighter than a feather at that moment, floating around in some kind of trance! I smiled and said, “Ma, I’m perfectly fine. I’ll take the exam.” Saying this, I took the packed shopping bag from my mother’s hands and left the house just as I was. It was 10:05 on the clock. From our house to the exam center, it takes at least thirty minutes by CNG during office hours. When I reached the college gate, it was 10:43. That day was the mathematical reasoning and mental ability test. The first two hours were mathematical reasoning, followed by one hour of mental ability. The exam had already started forty-three minutes earlier. Naturally, the police wouldn’t let me enter. I pleaded extensively, kept trying futilely to explain what had happened, but they weren’t willing to listen to anything. But I had made up my mind—I wasn’t going to turn back, I would get inside no matter what. A small commotion started gathering there. Seeing the crowd, the magistrate came over. After hearing my entire story, he said, “You only have one hour left. Can you finish all the math problems in this time?” Without a moment’s hesitation, I said, “I can, sir!” “Alright, go ahead. Good luck!” My heart overflowed with gratitude toward him. At that moment, he seemed to me not human, but divine! I went in, looked at the questions, took the exam. I even showed three problems to the person sitting next to me. (He got a job in Audit and Accounts in the 30th batch.) I scored 98 on that day’s exam—50 in math, 48 in mental ability. After that… well, as everyone says—the rest is history!

But this much is true: had that day’s exam been something other than mathematics, I would have been in real trouble. I can handle math because the type of problems that appeared in the BCS written exam back then weren’t particularly difficult for me to solve. Such problems don’t strain the mind much, and the 30th BCS written exam featured relatively easy math. Even if I worked through each step carefully and added side notes, it shouldn’t have taken more than half an hour. It didn’t for me either. However, spending two and a half hours on the International Affairs exam the day before had been risky. Actually, no matter how incredible the whole affair might seem, everything appears to have been predetermined by the Creator or nature itself. What remains inexplicable to our limited understanding is simply a natural, ordinary occurrence for the Creator. All our failures and successes are already decided beforehand. But to reach that point, the effort—or making the right decision at the right time—that we must do ourselves. I wasn’t even supposed to pass my undergraduate degree. Yet it was my destiny to complete my undergraduate studies, become a BCS cadre, study at IBA—all of it was written in my fate. Had my destiny been bound elsewhere, I would have gone there instead. I had enrolled in another master’s program under Dhaka University—MDS. After continuing that course for three months, I left it of my own accord. They had said I would need to officially hide the fact that I was simultaneously pursuing another master’s at IBA. I refused to lie. I harbor no regret about this, though. I’ve accepted that pursuing that particular master’s degree simply wasn’t written in my destiny. This is the truth, this is reality. I had gained admission to Dhaka University’s Evening MBA program in Finance, ranking sixth on the merit list, but never had to attend classes there. I received my IBA admission test results before that. I did complete my master’s in Finance from Dhaka University, but the Evening MBA program wasn’t destined for me, so I didn’t pursue my master’s degree from there.

Stepping into two boats in the middle of a river ensures certain death. Logic dictates this. But I placed my feet in two boats, taking the maximum risk—I had no other choice—yet both boats moved forward in parallel at the same speed at the same time, so I didn’t slip between them and lose my life. What explanation could there be for this? Life doesn’t follow logic; life follows the Creator’s signals. Life doesn’t always operate according to explanations. Sometimes life moves on faith. So there’s nothing to say about anyone’s personal philosophy and the life they live according to their beliefs, as long as that life doesn’t interfere with someone else’s way of living. Somewhere, no explicable form of life can be seen, and life is just like this!

Through sheer mental strength alone, I had believed that some miracle would surely occur. It did happen, because in Providence’s master plan, that’s what was meant to happen. Everything in between was the Creator’s games or plans to test my patience and concentration. You will never be given a gift you don’t deserve. You will be tested, and if you fail to pass that test, you will deprive yourself of the Creator’s grace through your own fault. I’m sharing with you the Facebook status I posted after the IBA admission test results came out, along with a couple of my own comments on it:

Friends, I’ve been finally selected for admission into the MBA Program of IBA, Dhaka University. …… feeling happy. ……. HATS OFF to Sharmeen didi, Ira madam & Romel bhai!!

# My dear friends….. Your gorgeous presence on my wall makes me think twice about the POWER of friendship & the MAGIC of love. YES……… They matter!! I just want to be with you forever. Please never say GOODBYE…. It hurts!! Your kindness and care mean a lot to me. You’ve always given me much more than I really deserve. Please accept my sincere GRATITUDE.

Happy Social Networking!!

Long live Facebook!!

My best wishes for our Friendship!!

……… Love you all ……

# (To one of my close friends) Dost, not reaching the Interview Session on 17 January at 5:30 pm was what I thought to be….. reaching there in time was what was written in my DESTINY….. And, I ended up calling it a MIRACLE, something I never believed in before…… Just have a look at the schedule of 17 January……

International Affairs Exam (BCS written exam)…. 10:00 am — 1:00 pm

The departure time of the GMG Airlines: 3:20 pm, there was a delay of about 1 hour due to fog and I availed another delayed flight of Bangladesh Biman at 4:37 pm.

The plane landed on Dhaka Airport at 5:13 pm and then I started my fight against time to meet the deadline by bike with Romel bhai!! Who managed those three saviours (Sharmeen didi, Ira madam & Romel bhai) for me? I don’t know. You better ask the Heaven! I saw such a breath-taking motor-bike driving only in English movies. Before that day, I had never thought I would experience it!!

Life is sometimes stranger than fiction . . . . Who can tell it better than I?

# (To one of my senior high-profile Indian friends) Thank you Sir for your words of felicitation. IBA of Dhaka University is considered as the most prestigious institute for doing MBA in Bangladesh. As per the rules of that Business School, the Major/Field of Specialization is allowed to be chosen at the final semester judging the academic records & intention of a candidate. I don’t have much idea about what to choose and why to choose. Please share some ideas on it as you’ve huge practical knowledge (so far as I know) about the present corporate trend.

You’ve nicely stated the trend of our careerist B-school graduates. No one really cares about their own aptitude, rather, tries to be what market wants them to be. Personally, I always like the decision-making and mainstream operational sections of giant companies. And, probably I’ll go for finance as my major when I’ve to choose it in my final semester. Yes, my semester results must be well enough to work on my advantage. That’ll be a story of one and a half years later. Till then, I’ll have to undergo the generalized curriculum as my B-school formulates. The recent economic recession worries our friends studying at the US universities. And, almost all of them suggest me not to plan of staying there. But at the same time, they suggest me completing my PhD in the US if I want to and grab that opportunity. Let’s wait and see. . . . . Are you in India now? Hope you’re quite OK along with your busy schedule. Please, sometimes give me your valuable suggestions when you’ve time and you’re here on Facebook. . . . . Thank you once again for your helpful advice. Take care.

In explaining the final part of the status shared above, I had written these words:

Let me share the Story behind the Story and elucidate the last part of my status. It would have been quite impossible for me to reach Dhaka University from Dhaka International Airport within just 50 minutes (!!) to attend the interview session of IBA in time on Jan 17, but for the cordial help of Sharmeen didi (Sharmeen Muiz) & Ira madam (Johora Bebe Ira). They’re the persons who made that miracle happen!! And, Romel bhai (Monirul Alam Romel) is the “Man with the Bike” who dared fight against time to meet the deadline!! ……. I feel honoured to express my heartfelt gratitude to these three saviours. …….. Miracles Happen When You Believe!!

I conclude this piece with a beautifully strange comment Sharmeen didi made on that status: “My prayers, good wishes, and prayers remain with you. Dear brother of mine, may you grow to great heights. And may the successful reflection of our efforts (Ira’s and mine) shine through in everything you do. I was there, I am here, I will be there. …….. Heaps of hugs and love.”

What sustains a human being? We live on love, on prayers, on good wishes. These are what keep me alive—quite well alive, in fact. My gratitude!

P.S. Let me offer you some practical wisdom. Those who think they know too much, who consider themselves supremely intelligent, who speak in grand terms without any real qualifications or notable position, who try to diminish others even through outright lies, who pontificate without knowledge, who speak to you in such a manner that you begin to doubt your own confidence—I would advise you to absolutely, absolutely, and absolutely avoid such people. They themselves cannot go very far in life, nor will they allow you to go very far either.

(Written 2-3 years ago)

I had never been on a plane before. I thought that wherever you go, you need a passport to fly. My elder brother called a friend who works with passport services and asked what documents are needed for an emergency passport to Dhaka. He burst out laughing! He said, “Buddy, what do you need a passport for? A plane and a bus are the same thing. One flies in the sky, the other runs on the road. That’s all there is to it! Just go buy a ticket. That’s it! Which one is good? You can go with GMG. That’s pretty good.” I didn’t know that you don’t have to rush to the airport to buy a plane ticket. I had no idea how much tickets cost. Getting off the bus in the morning, I went straight to a Dutch-Bangla Bank booth and withdrew ten thousand taka. Then I jumped into a CNG and rushed to the airport. I bought a ticket from the GMG Airlines counter for the 3:20 flight on Monday, the 17th. That was the first Chittagong-Dhaka flight of the afternoon. I booked a return ticket for the same day on the 7:45 evening flight. I felt like I could see it right before my eyes—me attending classes at IBA! Such a strange vision! I returned home with a victorious smile, almost as if I had already gotten into IBA! At night, I tried to prepare from various guides and the internet about what they might ask in the IBA interview. I studied for about 4-5 hours. At the same time, I posted a status on Facebook: How much time does it take to reach Dhaka University from Dhaka International Airport? Is it possible to reach in 40 minutes? Friends, any suggestion, please? I was truly a very simple person back then. I saw the world in very simple terms. Since I hadn’t visited Dhaka much, I didn’t know that in 2011 it wasn’t possible to get from the airport to Shahbag in 40 minutes. Everyone was saying it would take a minimum of two hours to get from the airport to the university campus in the afternoon. All sorts of bizarre comments came in reply to my status. Many started making fun of me. I’ll share some of my friends’ suggestions: “It’s possible if you run.” “It would be great if you jogged to the university. You’d get your evening exercise too!” “You shouldn’t have bought that plane ticket! With that money, if you had thrown us a party, we all would have prayed together and your BCS would have worked out! Hahahaha…..” “Young man! You’re young, just run as soon as you get off the plane! You’ll see, you’ll reach before time!” “Listen, such-and-such bus runs on such-and-such route. Hanging and sleeping, you’ll reach IBA just fine!” I got many such absurd comments. I knew absolutely nothing about Dhaka then. When you’re in trouble, doesn’t everyone have to give you a kick? It began to feel like that’s just how life is! People can’t extend a hand to pull you up, but they can certainly extend a foot to kick you down! Without getting the least bit discouraged by anyone’s words, I kept waiting to see if someone would give some good advice. I didn’t react to anyone’s reply that day. How helplessly calm a person becomes when in trouble. All I knew was this: “I’m giving my IBA interview on the 17th.” One person wrote, “You can go by bike. There’s no faster way to reach the university campus.” Some people even supported that idea. A few mentioned taxi cabs. Support was strongest for the bike option. Up until then, I had ridden a bike maybe 2-3 times in my entire life, counting generously. I didn’t really know anyone in Dhaka who had a bike, or if I did know someone, my mind wasn’t working at all then. Sometimes I think now, alas!

I couldn’t even afford to manage a bike at that time. I wrote, “My flight is scheduled to land at Dhaka Airport at 4.10 pm on 17 January. I must reach Dhaka University at or before 5.15 pm. I’ve an interview at IBA at that time. . . . Can’t I do it? Is it not possible? I need to do it at any cost. As I don’t know about the routes of Dhaka City, I’m asking for your help. Dhaka City is an unknown city to me. Can a taxi cab help me reach there in 1 hour? I can’t be late, otherwise I’ll miss the interview schedule. I’ve managed that schedule today through an application. . . Can a bike be a better solution? Or, something else? I’m in great trouble. . . .” After posting this, the mocking and laughter began all over again. I replied to the distinguished gentleman (one of Bangladesh’s most successful businessmen) who had advised me to jog there: “Thank you Sir for you ‘jogging’ suggestion. I was also seriously thinking of this option. Yes, I’ll surely manage to reach in time by vehicles, on foot, again by vehicles, again on foot . . . . And, I’ll go. I’ll be there in time by any means.” Someone said, “Change the schedule once more.” I wrote, “The schedule can’t be changed! Hopefully, there will happen some miracle and I’ll manage to avail the schedule in time.” A younger brother wrote, “Brother, you should go by taxi-cab. But you could try the bus once. Dhaka buses run quite well!” I replied, “Brother, I’m not surely making any attempt of getting on a bus! That’ll be horrible, you know. I was just seeking for a suggestion as I don’t know about the route. Thanks for the suggestion. I think a CNG powered taxi can help me in this regard. A taxi-cab is prone to getting stuck up in the congestion forever. A bike could be a better solution. But, I can’t manage it.”

Mrs. Zohra, whose name was Ira—an extremely distinguished lady—commented, “You need a bike?” “That would be wonderful.” “Alright, let me see what I can do.” She was the Deputy Managing Director of ONE Bank. After completing her studies in Chemistry from Chittagong University, she had done her MBA from IBA. She worked in the corporate sector, but there were very few people who didn’t know her. I have a sister. Her name is Sharmin Muiz Khan. At that time, she was one of those rare souls who loved someone as insignificant as me far more than necessary, showered me with affection for no particular reason. She was almost my mother’s age, but I addressed her as ‘tumi’ and she called me ‘tui’. She had studied English Literature at Dhaka University. She particularly loved my writing. She was a business magnate and had connections with many prominent people. I have rarely seen a lady as distinguished, refined, elegant, and utterly graceful as her. She commented, “Bappi, someone needs to grab you and give you a good thrashing. Are you enjoying confusing everyone by calling them all the time? Please stop wasting your time browsing Facebook and concentrate on tomorrow’s exam. Otherwise, you’re calling for another disaster. There is a saying: ‘Que sera, sera’ meaning: Whatever will be, will be. So, pray and try your best. I have given this opinion after a lot of serious thoughts. Please follow it. You will leave here right now. I don’t want to see you making even one more comment! MIRACLES HAPPEN IF YOU BELIEVE IN YOURSELF!” I replied, “Didi, things are that they’re. Things will be that they will be. And, between this two there lie some miracles that we’re never aware of. And, miracles are often stranger than facts. Facts are because they’re. Miracles are because we or someone else wants them to be. That’s the truth!” She called Mrs. Zohra. She said, “Look Ira, my brother has gotten into a bit of trouble. The poor thing is a simple soul, we should do something for him. Can’t you arrange a bike for him?” A little while later, I saw a message from Mrs. Zohra in my inbox: “Please give me your contact number. Regards” I gave it immediately. The call came within seconds. After introducing herself, she said, “You need a bike Monday at 4 PM, right?” “That would be wonderful.” “OK, a bike will be there for you at 4. My colleague Romel will pick you. Alright?” “I am truly, truly grateful. Thank you so very much!” “Let’s get the work done first, then you can thank me. I’m texting you Romel’s number. Take care.” She hung up immediately. I wrote to her: “Life is stranger than fiction, I repeat. From myself, I’ve got much less than I truly deserve. From others, I’ve got much more than I truly deserve. Is it the thing that they call miracle? I don’t know and never try to know. I let miracles happen and thankfully they always happen . . . . . . . Thank you for your generous approach. This really means a lot to me.” I wrote my piece. I don’t know if she ever read it or had the time to read it. Noble souls don’t wait for thanks. Besides, she was truly, truly busy.

He was the head of the credit section at One Bank. He had no reason to know a nobody like me, yet he knew me through my writing. Otherwise, I would never have had the privilege of speaking with him directly. And the fact that Sharmin didi had spoken to him about me—that was a big deal too. The next day was the Bangladesh Affairs Paper 2 exam. I went to sleep without studying any of it. The day after, straight from the exam hall, I went to the Westex showroom at Probortak intersection. My life’s first interview. I was incredibly excited! I had decided I’d go to the interview board wearing everything brand new. I bought a formal white shirt, black pants, black tie, black belt, black socks, white undershirt, and brown shoes. Later, from Gallery Apex I bought formal Oxford shoes, and from Time Zone a Titan wristwatch, then returned home in the evening. Seeing my antics, Ma was laughing. “Ma, why are you laughing?” “Just because, dear.” The funny thing was, Ma went with me to the exam hall every single day. She always kept me close, just like a child. Ma said, “Tomorrow I’m going to the airport with you.” And she did go—despite my protests.

Monday, the 17th. International Affairs exam. I couldn’t stay in the exam hall for the entire time due to nerves. I don’t have a car, what if the CNG takes too long to reach the airport! What if I miss the flight! The flight was at 3:20. And it takes at least 2 hours to reach the airport from Omar Gani MES College by 1 PM. Our written exam had been during winter. In the bitter cold, my fingers would freeze. Still, I kept rubbing my palms together to warm them, blowing hot breath into the hollow of my cupped hands, and wrote with all my strength. Instead of 1 o’clock, I finished the exam at 12:30, submitted my paper, and rushed out. When I emerged from the hall and reached the gate, everyone thought I must have been expelled! The intense stress was clearly written all over my face. Many showed me sympathy, told me not to worry, advised me to do better in the next BCS. I didn’t have time to respond. What could I say anyway—at that moment, life itself was one giant question mark for me! I don’t know what strength possessed my mother. She ran almost twice as fast as me, covering the distance from the college campus to the road. We got into a CNG without bargaining, paying nearly one and a half times the normal fare. I told the driver, “However you manage it, get us to the airport within two hours. If necessary, I’ll pay you extra.” It was 12:50 on the clock. The CNG started speeding. Mother opened the tiffin box and fed me khichuri, meat, and fried egg. One thought kept spinning in my head: “Will I catch the plane? If we get stuck in traffic, it’s all over!” I took off my sweater. I had left home that morning wearing my viva outfit, everything except the tie. After escaping two minor traffic jams, when we reached the airport, it was 5 minutes to 3. As soon as I got down, I touched my mother’s and aunt’s feet in respect (a distant aunt had come with us since mother couldn’t return home from the airport alone) and ran to the counter. There I learned that the flight was delayed by an hour due to dense fog. I thought, if the plane leaves at that time, there’s no way I can reach IBA by 5:15. I informed the counter staff about this. They said there was nothing they could do; they were very sorry. I inquired and learned that no other flights were departing at that time either. At that moment, I felt utterly helpless, just wanting to cry. I felt like I had no one, no one at all! I kept going from counter to counter. I found out there was a Bangladesh Biman flight departing at 3:45. There was no other flight before that. It was a bigger plane, taking 30 minutes to reach, whereas other planes take at least 40 minutes. Meaning, I would reach Dhaka airport by 4:15! I bought the ticket right then. There was great hope in my heart—if this one leaves on time, there’s nothing more to worry about. I went to the airport restroom and quickly put on my tie. I adjusted my shirt once more. Looking in the mirror, I fixed my hair with my hand. The clock hand crossed 4 after passing 3:45. The plane was delayed due to fog. We all boarded the plane at 4:15. It was my first time on a plane. I kept thinking, when will it take off, when will it take off! Every second felt like an hour! The tension was making it hard to breathe, yet the plane wouldn’t take off. I thought, oh! If only I could spend all my strength to make this plane soar into the sky! I pressed my handkerchief over my eyes to hide my tears. Finally, the plane took off. It was 4:37 on the clock. I was thinking, oh!

The plane could have taken off directly without taxiing! At least a couple of minutes would have been saved! The plane landed on Dhaka’s runway at 5:13.

I burst out of the domestic terminal running with all my might, and gasping for breath, I saw a motorcycle come to a stop right in front of me. “You’re Sushanta, right? Get on the back!” I extended my hand to shake hands with the young man in the black helmet. He didn’t raise his black-gloved right fist for a handshake. “Time’s wasting, brother! Please get on! Quick!” I didn’t argue further. “You’re not used to riding bikes, are you?” “Yes. How did you know?” “Brother, I’ve been riding bikes for the past 18-20 years. I can tell.” “I see.” “Lean forward and press your chest firmly against my back! You can even wrap your arms around me, otherwise you’ll get thrown off. For sure! I’m going to ride fast.” The way that bike tore out of the airport—I don’t have the courage to even think about it today. Under normal circumstances, I might have screamed in fear and told him to stop, or I really would have been thrown off. But at that moment I knew that being afraid was important, but far more important was reaching IBA alive. I don’t know if the wheels of that 150cc bike actually touched the ground that day, but for the second time in my life I understood this truth: you cannot frighten someone who stakes their life to touch their dreams. I had only seen bikes racing so recklessly on the roads in movies. The bike was literally cutting through the whooshing sound of wind, as if flying through the air! “Say brother, are you somebody really important?” “What do you mean?” “Well, Madam told me that one of her very important friends had to be delivered from the airport to IBA within half an hour, no matter what. That was her order! Who are you, brother? Hahahaha………” “I’m Madam’s Facebook friend.” “What are you saying, man? How’s that possible! I was thinking even more… you mean you’ve never even met her?” “No, brother. Why?” (There’s a railway crossing ahead. The barrier is coming down.) “Brother, duck your head a little.” Saying this, he quickly rode the bike under the barrier without obeying the signal. Many people behind us were shouting for us to stop. “Brother, just don’t be afraid. Nothing will happen. You can close your eyes if you want.” Right at that moment, while quickly emerging from between two trucks standing side by side, he said, “Sit a bit smaller, brother!” A little further ahead—massive traffic jam at a signal! Romel bhai lifted the bike onto the sidewalk. “Brother, please give way a little, give way a little,” he kept saying as he raced forward. He had to do this several times. Sometimes when riding on the central divider in the middle of the road, traffic police would catch us, and he’d say in a tearful voice, “Sir, my aunt is fighting for her life in the medical college. I’m going to donate blood. O-negative blood—we can’t find any. If I don’t reach on time, we won’t be able to save my aunt, sir!” He’d manage the police with this story and then race off at the same speed again! Whenever there was a traffic jam on the road, he’d immediately change to another road. That day I learned that when obstacles appear on the road, it doesn’t mean there is no road. Rather, it means you have to take a different road! Right now!! I had only seen such daredevil biking in Hollywood action movies. Looking at my hair in the bike’s mirror, it seemed as if it had stood up straight after an electric shock! My face was covered with dust from the city. In the fierce wind, my tie was flying behind me in the air. I don’t know if anyone has ever seen a bike race so recklessly through Dhaka’s roads during rush hour. But for some reason, I truly wasn’t afraid at all. I kept thinking over and over, “How quickly can one reach IBA!” Romel bhai had finished his honors and master’s from Dhaka College before joining the bank. I had asked him, “What’s your designation at the bank?” He had joked, “Not much, just 14 more promotions and I’ll be able to sit in Zohra Madam’s chair. Hahaha…….”

When I arrived in front of IBA, my watch showed 5:52. As I got down, I saw my younger brother Pappu and his friend Arefin standing there. At that time, I had my gift shop ‘Dobhana.’ Pappu and Arefin were my working partners. They often came to Dhaka from Chawk Bazaar in Old Dhaka to buy wholesale goods for the shop. I had withdrawn myself from the shop to focus on my BCS exam preparation. They ran everything. They were already in Dhaka on shop business. I had told them to go to the IBA MBA program office and keep me updated by phone about the viva board situation. Through repeated conversations with them, I was checking whether the interview board was still there, asking them to go to the program office and explain that I couldn’t arrive on time due to flight delays, terrible traffic jams, and so on. As soon as I got down, they informed me, “Bhaiya, the board left 4-5 minutes ago. Now only the Executive MBA viva remains.” After introducing them to Romel bhai, I rushed up to the MBA program office on the second floor. As soon as they saw me, everyone there stopped their work and looked at me. I saw Rahi Sir busy with something; he didn’t respond to my greeting. “Sir, I’m very late. Despite trying hard, I couldn’t arrive on time. I…” Without giving me a chance to say anything more, he shouted, “You Idiot! Get out!” “Sir, I…” “I said, Get out! Out! Out!! I knew very well that you wouldn’t be able to come on time. Is it possible to take one exam in Chittagong and then come to Dhaka for another exam? That easy? You’ve just wasted my time! I had told everyone that a boy from Chittagong would come at 5:15, and we needed to take his viva. Did you think I am a joker?” “Sir, I came here with great difficulty. The flight was delayed, there was heavy traffic on the road. I really…” “It’s none of my business! Get out! Go back where you came from.” “Sir, I had many dreams of studying at IBA.” “Everyone on the street has such dreams. I gave you a chance but you missed it. That’s all! Get out of here.” “Sir, please have some mercy…” (I felt like falling at his feet and crying…) Right beside him sat a gentle-looking gentleman much younger than the sir. He said, “Sir, I’ve heard about him. His younger brother kept coming to our program office. They had been standing in front of the office for hours. His flight was indeed delayed. And there’s heavy traffic in Dhaka today too. A friend of mine came to my room from the airport a while ago; it took him a long time to get here too. Give him a chance, Sir. He’s come so far, taking such risks with great difficulty! He apparently has another written exam tomorrow too. The poor fellow has to return to Chittagong today itself.” “Son, you junior faculty members don’t even know what you’re saying, what kind of requests you make. Why are you pleading for him? Is he your relative or something?” “No no Sir, I’m seeing him for the first time today. Just look at his face once, Sir. He’s really come here with great difficulty. Please do him a favor, Sir.” “You have no idea what you are talking about! Will the Executive MBA viva be the same as theirs? They have 3 years of job experience, while these are just children in comparison!

“This won’t be possible, brother. I am sorry!” “Sir, please help the poor fellow a bit. He’s come such a long way with so much hope!” “Son, we can’t manage anything more for you!” I stood a little distance away, head bowed. Looking at me, he called out loudly, “Hey, stupid! Why are you standing there like a donkey? Go on, go to the third floor! Go and stand there absolutely quietly. We’ll call you.” I truly couldn’t understand whether such a beautiful moment had ever come anywhere in this world before! Tears began streaming down my face. I prayed again and again from my heart for Babu sir. Rahi sir seemed like a father figure to me. I kept remembering mother’s words: “Never get angry at teachers’ scolding. When teachers scold, it means blessings.” Overwhelmed with emotion, as I was about to leave after thanking and saluting the teachers, Rahi sir called from behind, “Hey crazy boy! Comb your hair before entering the board! Wash your face at the basin! Don’t be so scared! Hahaha…” I couldn’t say anything more. I kept staring blankly at sir’s face. My cheeks were wet with tears from both eyes. Babu sir placed his hand on my shoulder and said, “Go on, go upstairs and wait. We are not that much bad people as you thought us to be. Sometimes even the IBA faculties are too good! Freshen up, give your interview properly, now there’s no tension anymore. What’s your exam tomorrow?” “Sir, Mathematical Reasoning and Mental Ability.” “How will you go?” “Sir, I have a return plane ticket.” “Good! Brother, splash some water on your eyes and face to fix your appearance. Give your viva quickly and rush to the airport! Good luck!” At that moment I felt like touching sir’s feet in salute. People get frightened by sudden intense love. For the first time, it suddenly struck me: “What if I can’t honor this love of my teachers? What if I don’t get a chance at IBA in the end?”

When we find ourselves in trouble, if our intentions are pure, a way out always emerges! I went to the washroom on the third floor and tried my best to “make myself presentable” by wetting my hair and smoothing it down. After splashing water on my face, I went and waited in front of the notice board. I was called after 10 minutes. It was nearly seven o’clock. When I entered the room, I saw many faculty members seated there. I hadn’t known that so many would be present for an interview. I thought this was perhaps how IBA interviews were conducted. I later learned that this entire panel had been assembled just for me. Apart from Babu Sir and Rahi Sir, I didn’t recognize anyone else. After getting admitted, I realized that those present that evening were IBA’s most senior and accomplished faculty members. The board included Saiful Majid Sir, Shama-e-Zahir Sir, Mamun Sir, Munir Khosru Sir, Niaz Sir, and Saif Noman Khan Sir. Most of the junior faculty had finished their interviews and gone home, while some senior faculty were in their offices conducting Executive MBA interviews. Some of them had been specially called in. I was in the interview for about 18-20 minutes. Many of the faculty members knew about my situation that day. I had heard of something called “divine possession” in life. At certain special moments, due to particular external influences or circumstances, people suddenly gain extraordinary power. In those moments, they step outside their normal state and display different behavior. They can harness the utmost potential of their inner infinite strength. In that wondrous balanced fusion of emotion and capability, the best version of themselves emerges. From the moment I entered the interview room, I had very likely become a different person, or perhaps the very best ‘me’ from within had emerged that day. By what divine signal this happened, I don’t know. No hesitation, doubt, nervousness, fear, the day’s exhaustion, or lethargy was affecting me at all. I felt incredibly composed and light as a feather. It felt as though whatever I was saying or doing was the best possible. I was experiencing the finest moment of my life right then and there. I can say with complete honesty that the style in which I spoke English that day—I have never in my entire life, even to this day, been able to speak English so flawlessly and fluently. That day the faculty members engaged in various kinds of humor during the interview. They were having great fun with me. Most likely, the faculty wanted to “shake me up” somehow. I don’t know why, by whose indication I don’t know, but I kept answering all their questions one by one with a very cool head and a smile that day. They interviewed me in English on various diverse topics, starting from describing the entire day’s events and the preceding Facebook incidents to many other subjects. (Of course, at IBA there’s absolutely no opportunity to give interviews in Bengali.) Why I wanted to pursue an MBA, why IBA if I was going to take government job exams anyway, my weaknesses, whether I’d ever been in love, how I spend my leisure time, some conversation about reading books, various economic issues of Bangladesh, some personal and family matters, my future plans, the breathless motorcycle journey from A to Z, the BCS examination system, why I went into engineering despite having no interest, why I delayed my honors degree, why I didn’t study properly, why my CGPA was so low, what I like to eat, what kind of personality I prefer in people, what I know about IBA, some current affairs, and several other questions. I was answering very quickly in correct English. The faculty praised this too. I gave a very simple, straightforward, and candid interview. I didn’t speak a single false word that day.

I didn’t need to think before speaking—whatever came to mind, I simply said, so there was no chance to fabricate lies. At the end, they asked me to sing a song. When I said, “I can’t, Sir,” Babu Sir showed me my info-form and laughed, saying, “But you’ve claimed so.” I had written Reading, Writing, Singing in the hobbies section… At that moment, it felt like I was living the best day of my life. I sang, “Aaj ei dintake…” “I see, we’re getting a singer for our cultural program!” As Saiful Majid Sir was saying this, Babu Sir interjected, “Sir, he has another exam tomorrow. He’ll probably be flying back to Chittagong tonight.” Then three or four teachers exclaimed in unison, “What! He’s going back to Chittagong right now? Well then, run along, run along! Go downstairs and see if your superman biker is there! Hahahaha…” As I was leaving with my salaam, the teachers called out, “Best of luck for your tomorrow’s exam.” I kept thinking, again and again—I’ll make it, I’ll make it! (Even after giving the BCS viva, I didn’t feel this good.)

When I stepped out of IBA, it was half past seven on the clock. I knew there was no way I could catch the 7:45 flight. I also knew that I had no idea how I would get to Chittagong that night. I didn’t even feel like thinking about it. Only the exhilarating rush of having given a good exam was coursing through me. Pappu and Arefin had been waiting for me at Madhu’s canteen. Taking them along, I went to the front of Dhaka University’s Central Library and leisurely began eating vegetable pakoras and tea. Many of my students studied in various departments at Dhaka University. Quite a few came to see me. They were asking what questions had been asked in the interview. After a day of incredible experiences, my head had become almost entirely empty. I couldn’t understand why I wasn’t feeling the slightest urgency to return to Chittagong. Pappu asked, “Brother, will you take the night bus?” I said, “Yes, that could work.” (It amuses me now to think how casually I had said ‘that could work’!) The road conditions weren’t good then either, there were always traffic jams. It didn’t even occur to me—what would happen if I couldn’t reach by 10 AM tomorrow? Ripon, a dear younger brother who lived in Chittagong and was one of my former students, said, “Brother, I have a non-AC train ticket; for Turna Nishitha, leaving tonight. It doesn’t matter if I don’t go to Chittagong today. Brother, you take it.” “Alright, fine,” I said, took the ticket, and set off toward Kamalapur Station. That night the train left nearly an hour and a half late. I didn’t even want to think about what was going to happen! I had already surrendered myself to fate long before. In my mind I kept repeating only this: whatever will be, will be. Whether I want it or not, it will happen. And whatever is happening is surely for the good; whatever will happen will surely be for the good too. Let’s see! After the day’s exhaustion, I had a very peaceful sleep. Suddenly I woke up hearing commotion around me. The train had stopped at Comilla. Apparently there was some problem with the line. We were delayed there for nearly two and a quarter hours. I couldn’t understand why I wasn’t feeling any kind of anxiety! I fell asleep again. Sleep is the world’s only faithful lover. Whenever I want it, I find it near. Never, under any circumstances, does it abandon me. There can be no purer love than the love for sleep.

When the train reached Chittagong railway station the next day, it was a quarter to ten in the morning. My exam was scheduled to start at ten. It takes only fifteen minutes to get from the station to my house. When I got home, I found my mother sitting there with everything ready in her hands—my pencil box, board, scale, pen, calculator, admit card, registration card, all of it. My parents had been terribly anxious at home. I hadn’t been able to speak to them since after half past one at night. My mobile had run out of charge. (I was using a cheap Nokia 1100 mobile set back then. Everyone called it the “national set”! It was so sturdy that many would joke, “Dude, you could crack jackfruit with that phone!” I’d tease my friends who used expensive mobiles, saying, “My phone’s model is ‘N Eleven Zero Zero’!”) As soon as my mother saw me, she said, “Dear, how are you? Will you take today’s exam?” I felt emotionally numb. It seemed as though I was lighter than a feather at that moment, floating around in some kind of trance! I smiled and said, “Ma, I’m perfectly fine. I’ll take the exam.” Saying this, I took the packed shopping bag from my mother’s hands and left the house just as I was. It was 10:05 on the clock. From our house to the exam center, it takes at least thirty minutes by CNG during office hours. When I reached the college gate, it was 10:43. That day was the mathematical reasoning and mental ability test. The first two hours were mathematical reasoning, followed by one hour of mental ability. The exam had already started forty-three minutes earlier. Naturally, the police wouldn’t let me enter. I pleaded extensively, kept trying futilely to explain what had happened, but they weren’t willing to listen to anything. But I had made up my mind—I wasn’t going to turn back, I would get inside no matter what. A small commotion started gathering there. Seeing the crowd, the magistrate came over. After hearing my entire story, he said, “You only have one hour left. Can you finish all the math problems in this time?” Without a moment’s hesitation, I said, “I can, sir!” “Alright, go ahead. Good luck!” My heart overflowed with gratitude toward him. At that moment, he seemed to me not human, but divine! I went in, looked at the questions, took the exam. I even showed three problems to the person sitting next to me. (He got a job in Audit and Accounts in the 30th batch.) I scored 98 on that day’s exam—50 in math, 48 in mental ability. After that… well, as everyone says—the rest is history!

But this much is true: had that day’s exam been something other than mathematics, I would have been in real trouble. I can handle math because the type of problems that appeared in the BCS written exam back then weren’t particularly difficult for me to solve. Such problems don’t strain the mind much, and the 30th BCS written exam featured relatively easy math. Even if I worked through each step carefully and added side notes, it shouldn’t have taken more than half an hour. It didn’t for me either. However, spending two and a half hours on the International Affairs exam the day before had been risky. Actually, no matter how incredible the whole affair might seem, everything appears to have been predetermined by the Creator or nature itself. What remains inexplicable to our limited understanding is simply a natural, ordinary occurrence for the Creator. All our failures and successes are already decided beforehand. But to reach that point, the effort—or making the right decision at the right time—that we must do ourselves. I wasn’t even supposed to pass my undergraduate degree. Yet it was my destiny to complete my undergraduate studies, become a BCS cadre, study at IBA—all of it was written in my fate. Had my destiny been bound elsewhere, I would have gone there instead. I had enrolled in another master’s program under Dhaka University—MDS. After continuing that course for three months, I left it of my own accord. They had said I would need to officially hide the fact that I was simultaneously pursuing another master’s at IBA. I refused to lie. I harbor no regret about this, though. I’ve accepted that pursuing that particular master’s degree simply wasn’t written in my destiny. This is the truth, this is reality. I had gained admission to Dhaka University’s Evening MBA program in Finance, ranking sixth on the merit list, but never had to attend classes there. I received my IBA admission test results before that. I did complete my master’s in Finance from Dhaka University, but the Evening MBA program wasn’t destined for me, so I didn’t pursue my master’s degree from there.

Stepping into two boats in the middle of a river ensures certain death. Logic dictates this. But I placed my feet in two boats, taking the maximum risk—I had no other choice—yet both boats moved forward in parallel at the same speed at the same time, so I didn’t slip between them and lose my life. What explanation could there be for this? Life doesn’t follow logic; life follows the Creator’s signals. Life doesn’t always operate according to explanations. Sometimes life moves on faith. So there’s nothing to say about anyone’s personal philosophy and the life they live according to their beliefs, as long as that life doesn’t interfere with someone else’s way of living. Somewhere, no explicable form of life can be seen, and life is just like this!

Through sheer mental strength alone, I had believed that some miracle would surely occur. It did happen, because in Providence’s master plan, that’s what was meant to happen. Everything in between was the Creator’s games or plans to test my patience and concentration. You will never be given a gift you don’t deserve. You will be tested, and if you fail to pass that test, you will deprive yourself of the Creator’s grace through your own fault. I’m sharing with you the Facebook status I posted after the IBA admission test results came out, along with a couple of my own comments on it:

Friends, I’ve been finally selected for admission into the MBA Program of IBA, Dhaka University. …… feeling happy. ……. HATS OFF to Sharmeen didi, Ira madam & Romel bhai!!

# My dear friends….. Your gorgeous presence on my wall makes me think twice about the POWER of friendship & the MAGIC of love. YES……… They matter!! I just want to be with you forever. Please never say GOODBYE…. It hurts!! Your kindness and care mean a lot to me. You’ve always given me much more than I really deserve. Please accept my sincere GRATITUDE.

Happy Social Networking!!

Long live Facebook!!

My best wishes for our Friendship!!

……… Love you all ……

# (To one of my close friends) Dost, not reaching the Interview Session on 17 January at 5:30 pm was what I thought to be….. reaching there in time was what was written in my DESTINY….. And, I ended up calling it a MIRACLE, something I never believed in before…… Just have a look at the schedule of 17 January……

International Affairs Exam (BCS written exam)…. 10:00 am — 1:00 pm

The departure time of the GMG Airlines: 3:20 pm, there was a delay of about 1 hour due to fog and I availed another delayed flight of Bangladesh Biman at 4:37 pm.

The plane landed on Dhaka Airport at 5:13 pm and then I started my fight against time to meet the deadline by bike with Romel bhai!! Who managed those three saviours (Sharmeen didi, Ira madam & Romel bhai) for me? I don’t know. You better ask the Heaven! I saw such a breath-taking motor-bike driving only in English movies. Before that day, I had never thought I would experience it!!

Life is sometimes stranger than fiction . . . . Who can tell it better than I?

# (To one of my senior high-profile Indian friends) Thank you Sir for your words of felicitation. IBA of Dhaka University is considered as the most prestigious institute for doing MBA in Bangladesh. As per the rules of that Business School, the Major/Field of Specialization is allowed to be chosen at the final semester judging the academic records & intention of a candidate. I don’t have much idea about what to choose and why to choose. Please share some ideas on it as you’ve huge practical knowledge (so far as I know) about the present corporate trend.

You’ve nicely stated the trend of our careerist B-school graduates. No one really cares about their own aptitude, rather, tries to be what market wants them to be. Personally, I always like the decision-making and mainstream operational sections of giant companies. And, probably I’ll go for finance as my major when I’ve to choose it in my final semester. Yes, my semester results must be well enough to work on my advantage. That’ll be a story of one and a half years later. Till then, I’ll have to undergo the generalized curriculum as my B-school formulates. The recent economic recession worries our friends studying at the US universities. And, almost all of them suggest me not to plan of staying there. But at the same time, they suggest me completing my PhD in the US if I want to and grab that opportunity. Let’s wait and see. . . . . Are you in India now? Hope you’re quite OK along with your busy schedule. Please, sometimes give me your valuable suggestions when you’ve time and you’re here on Facebook. . . . . Thank you once again for your helpful advice. Take care.

In explaining the final part of the status shared above, I had written these words:

Let me share the Story behind the Story and elucidate the last part of my status. It would have been quite impossible for me to reach Dhaka University from Dhaka International Airport within just 50 minutes (!!) to attend the interview session of IBA in time on Jan 17, but for the cordial help of Sharmeen didi (Sharmeen Muiz) & Ira madam (Johora Bebe Ira). They’re the persons who made that miracle happen!! And, Romel bhai (Monirul Alam Romel) is the “Man with the Bike” who dared fight against time to meet the deadline!! ……. I feel honoured to express my heartfelt gratitude to these three saviours. …….. Miracles Happen When You Believe!!

I conclude this piece with a beautifully strange comment Sharmeen didi made on that status: “My prayers, good wishes, and prayers remain with you. Dear brother of mine, may you grow to great heights. And may the successful reflection of our efforts (Ira’s and mine) shine through in everything you do. I was there, I am here, I will be there. …….. Heaps of hugs and love.”

What sustains a human being? We live on love, on prayers, on good wishes. These are what keep me alive—quite well alive, in fact. My gratitude!

P.S. Let me offer you some practical wisdom. Those who think they know too much, who consider themselves supremely intelligent, who speak in grand terms without any real qualifications or notable position, who try to diminish others even through outright lies, who pontificate without knowledge, who speak to you in such a manner that you begin to doubt your own confidence—I would advise you to absolutely, absolutely, and absolutely avoid such people. They themselves cannot go very far in life, nor will they allow you to go very far either.

(Written 2-3 years ago)

I thought, why should I surrender before I’ve even lost? I’ll see this through to the end. At home, my parents were also saying, “Give up one of them.” My heart was telling me, “I won’t give up, not for anything!” Let me gamble with life this once and see what happens! You have to listen to your heart. I called the MBA Program Office. Zakir bhai was in charge there. He said, “IBA’s schedule doesn’t change for anyone. You change your schedule.” I said, “That’s not possible. You have several slots. BCS has only one.” Even after that he said, “It’s not possible in any way. We’re sorry!” Saying this, he hung up the phone, and my stubbornness only grew stronger. I put aside studying for the next day’s exam. After some inquiries, I learned that Rahi Sir was the Program Chairman for IBA’s MBA at the time. Only he could change my interview slot if he wanted to. Rahi Sir is an incredibly fierce person. IBA’s Marketing Department is the best in Bangladesh. Rahi Sir is the best faculty in that department. I got his number. The person I got the number from asked, “Are you really going to call Rahi Sir?” “Yes. Why?” “We students never dare to call Sir. And you’re going to call him for this?” “I will. I have to. My back is against the wall.” “God bless you, man! You better think twice.” I said, “Sometimes life doesn’t give you the opportunity to think twice. It’s the first and the only chance! I must grab it before it’s too late! I will call him. I’ll make my attempt—if it works, it works; if not, so be it. If I don’t try, it definitely won’t work. Thank you, bhai!” Right after finishing that conversation, without any second thoughts, I called Rahi Sir. A man with an extremely serious voice. It’s frightening just to speak with him. But I have nothing left to lose. I only know this: I passed IBA’s written exam and IBA has to conduct my interview. I had truly become reckless. I blurted out my entire problem in one breath. Rahi Sir said, “You silly kid! You’ve dared to call Rahi Sir for this! Did you think I am your friend? It’s not my business whether you can attend the viva board or not. You have only 2 choices: Leave IBA, or, Leave BCS.” To my infinite amazement, I heard myself saying, “Sir, I have called you to hear about the third choice. If you don’t have that, please make it for me. I know I’ll be at IBA.” Sir said very loudly over the phone, “You are a stupid little boy. You just know nothing about the things here! Don’t waste my time. I am busy!” “Sir, please give me a chance. I am………” I couldn’t make him hear any more—he hung up before that. I couldn’t understand what had happened, only felt an even stronger desire to believe that I would definitely study at IBA. BCS seemed to fade for a moment. Whatever happens in tomorrow’s exam will happen. Right now I need to sort out the IBA situation first. I called the program office again.

I asked, “When can I actually meet Rahi sir?” “What do you mean?” “Sir told me to come see him.” “Ask sir himself when you can actually meet him.” (I mustered the courage to lie….) “Sir said to call the program office and find out.” “He told you to ask us? Really! Alright, stay on the line, let me check sir’s class schedule.” Zakir bhai informed me that if I came next Friday evening, I could meet sir. Saying “thank you very much,” I hung up the phone and immediately left home to buy a bus ticket. From near Gariullah Shah’s shrine in Chittagong, I bought a ticket on Unique’s non-AC bus to Dhaka for Thursday night. The next day, under tremendous mental pressure, I took my Bangladesh Studies Paper 1 exam. Even in the exam hall, my mind kept racing: “Will Rahi sir keep his word?” In my answer sheet, I mistakenly wrote the word “Rahi” several times, though I crossed it out later.

I arrived at IBA before afternoon on Friday. I stood waiting in front of the MBA Program Office. Zakir bhai wasn’t there at the time—he came in the evening, two hours later. I went up and introduced myself. “Oh, I see, you’ve come from Chittagong. Rahi sir mentioned he would speak with you about changing your interview schedule? Really??” “Yes, he told me to come see him!” We were talking when Rahi sir arrived shortly after. He went straight through the program office into his room. A dignified man of serious disposition. His office was right next to the program office. Zakir bhai said, “Please sit on the sofa. Let me ask sir if he’s free right now.” When he told sir, “Someone named Sushanta Pal has come from Chittagong to see you—you had asked him to come,” sir immediately shouted quite loudly, “I didn’t ask anyone to come see me! Tell him to leave. Disgusting!” Zakir bhai told me, “Sir won’t see you. You should go.” “I’ll leave, but only after meeting with sir. Brother, I haven’t come here to turn back. I must see him.” Almost forcefully, I entered sir’s room without permission. After I said very politely, “Assalamu alaikum, sir,” he returned the greeting and said, “What do you want?” There were several other students in the room who had come to sir for various matters. “Sir, I called you the day before yesterday evening.” “Is it my duty to remember your call? Get out!” I said nothing and stood there with my head bowed. The words “Get out!” didn’t register in my mind. At that moment, I only knew that I would speak with Rahi sir about changing the schedule, and sir would surely agree to do so. After standing like this for nearly half an hour, sir said, “Why are you standing here like a statue?” I fearfully placed an application about changing the time slot on sir’s desk and began to say, “Sir, the day before yesterday I spoke with you on the phone…” “Speak in the language I am using now.” “Sir, my interview has been scheduled for next Monday at 10 in the morning. I am appearing for the 30th BCS written exam. I have an exam at the same time. So, I request you to shift my schedule to another convenient time slot.” “Sorry, we cannot.” “Please Sir! Otherwise, my dream to be here will be shattered.” “Let it be. Just go for BCS. You will do better being a civil servant.” “But Sir, it’s uncertain.” “Is being here certain for you?” “No Sir, that’s why I cannot leave any of these 2 opportunities. Please Sir, give me a chance. Do me a favour. I will be ever grateful, Sir.” “What time is your exam?” “10 o’clock, sir.” “How long?” “Three hours, sir.” “Okay fine, come straight here after your exam. Can you make it by 1:30?” I realized sir had forgotten that I’d come from Chittagong. “Sir, I’m taking the exam from Chittagong.” “Stupid! We cannot change our schedule for you! Are you Mr President?” “No Sir, I just want to be your student! I will do anything you tell me to do. Please give me a chance, Sir!” “Look, brother, you won’t be able to finish your exam at 1 o’clock and come from Chittagong to take the interview anyway.

You won’t make it even if you leave at 10 PM. The roads are in terrible condition, there’s heavy traffic.” “Sir, I can come in the evening.” “How? By plane?” “Yes, sir. Please give me a chance, sir.” “Alright. Don’t you have an exam the next day?” “I do, sir. I can manage. I’ll buy a return ticket.” “What time can you arrive?” “Whatever you say, sir.” “Your exam will end at 1 PM. Hmm… okay, can you make it to the 3 o’clock board?” “Yes sir, I can be there at 3.” “Do you know if there are flights at that time?” “I don’t know, sir. I’ll find out.” “I think there’s a flight around 3.” “What time can you arrive?” “4 o’clock, sir?” “Foolish boy! Your brain isn’t working. How can you take a 3 o’clock flight from Chittagong and get from the airport to IBA by 4? You have no idea about Dhaka city. Okay, you come by 5:15 sharp. You will be last person in that board. If you come after that, nothing can be done. The evening board is for Executive MBA. It won’t be possible to hold your viva there. Okay?” “Thank you, sir.” “Youngman, you have decided to play with your life! Best of luck!” “Please pray for me, sir. I can do this!” Tears came to my eyes. I realized that though this man appeared stern on the outside, he was very gentle within. I offered many prayers for the sir and left IBA. I went to Aziz and bought some books. Then I went to Fakirapul and took the 10 PM non-AC bus from Unique, reaching Chittagong in the morning.

I’m sharing the application with you:

15 January 2011

The Program Director, MBA Program

Institute of Business Administration

University of Dhaka

Dhaka

Subject: Prayer for changing the time slot of the interview schedule of the MBA Program Admission

Sir,

This letter expresses my earnest request to change my interview schedule of the MBA Program Admission 2010-2011. I am a candidate for Full-Time Course, my admit number is 2745 and I am on Interview Board 6 scheduled to be conducted at the 10:00 am to 1:00 pm time slot on January 17, 2011. I am appearing at the 30th BCS written examination and my Examination Centre is at Chittagong. I have an examination on January 17, 2011, coincided with the same time slot of the interview and so it is not possible for me to come from Chittagong and attend the interview at 10:00 am.

I will be highly obliged if you kindly permit me to attend the interview at the 6:00 pm to 8:30 pm time slot scheduled for Evening Board 3 and Evening Board 4 on January 17, 2011.

Yours faithfully

Sushanta Paul

I had never been on a plane before. I thought that wherever you go, you need a passport to fly. My elder brother called a friend who works with passport services and asked what documents are needed for an emergency passport to Dhaka. He burst out laughing! He said, “Buddy, what do you need a passport for? A plane and a bus are the same thing. One flies in the sky, the other runs on the road. That’s all there is to it! Just go buy a ticket. That’s it! Which one is good? You can go with GMG. That’s pretty good.” I didn’t know that you don’t have to rush to the airport to buy a plane ticket. I had no idea how much tickets cost. Getting off the bus in the morning, I went straight to a Dutch-Bangla Bank booth and withdrew ten thousand taka. Then I jumped into a CNG and rushed to the airport. I bought a ticket from the GMG Airlines counter for the 3:20 flight on Monday, the 17th. That was the first Chittagong-Dhaka flight of the afternoon. I booked a return ticket for the same day on the 7:45 evening flight. I felt like I could see it right before my eyes—me attending classes at IBA! Such a strange vision! I returned home with a victorious smile, almost as if I had already gotten into IBA! At night, I tried to prepare from various guides and the internet about what they might ask in the IBA interview. I studied for about 4-5 hours. At the same time, I posted a status on Facebook: How much time does it take to reach Dhaka University from Dhaka International Airport? Is it possible to reach in 40 minutes? Friends, any suggestion, please? I was truly a very simple person back then. I saw the world in very simple terms. Since I hadn’t visited Dhaka much, I didn’t know that in 2011 it wasn’t possible to get from the airport to Shahbag in 40 minutes. Everyone was saying it would take a minimum of two hours to get from the airport to the university campus in the afternoon. All sorts of bizarre comments came in reply to my status. Many started making fun of me. I’ll share some of my friends’ suggestions: “It’s possible if you run.” “It would be great if you jogged to the university. You’d get your evening exercise too!” “You shouldn’t have bought that plane ticket! With that money, if you had thrown us a party, we all would have prayed together and your BCS would have worked out! Hahahaha…..” “Young man! You’re young, just run as soon as you get off the plane! You’ll see, you’ll reach before time!” “Listen, such-and-such bus runs on such-and-such route. Hanging and sleeping, you’ll reach IBA just fine!” I got many such absurd comments. I knew absolutely nothing about Dhaka then. When you’re in trouble, doesn’t everyone have to give you a kick? It began to feel like that’s just how life is! People can’t extend a hand to pull you up, but they can certainly extend a foot to kick you down! Without getting the least bit discouraged by anyone’s words, I kept waiting to see if someone would give some good advice. I didn’t react to anyone’s reply that day. How helplessly calm a person becomes when in trouble. All I knew was this: “I’m giving my IBA interview on the 17th.” One person wrote, “You can go by bike. There’s no faster way to reach the university campus.” Some people even supported that idea. A few mentioned taxi cabs. Support was strongest for the bike option. Up until then, I had ridden a bike maybe 2-3 times in my entire life, counting generously. I didn’t really know anyone in Dhaka who had a bike, or if I did know someone, my mind wasn’t working at all then. Sometimes I think now, alas!

I couldn’t even afford to manage a bike at that time. I wrote, “My flight is scheduled to land at Dhaka Airport at 4.10 pm on 17 January. I must reach Dhaka University at or before 5.15 pm. I’ve an interview at IBA at that time. . . . Can’t I do it? Is it not possible? I need to do it at any cost. As I don’t know about the routes of Dhaka City, I’m asking for your help. Dhaka City is an unknown city to me. Can a taxi cab help me reach there in 1 hour? I can’t be late, otherwise I’ll miss the interview schedule. I’ve managed that schedule today through an application. . . Can a bike be a better solution? Or, something else? I’m in great trouble. . . .” After posting this, the mocking and laughter began all over again. I replied to the distinguished gentleman (one of Bangladesh’s most successful businessmen) who had advised me to jog there: “Thank you Sir for you ‘jogging’ suggestion. I was also seriously thinking of this option. Yes, I’ll surely manage to reach in time by vehicles, on foot, again by vehicles, again on foot . . . . And, I’ll go. I’ll be there in time by any means.” Someone said, “Change the schedule once more.” I wrote, “The schedule can’t be changed! Hopefully, there will happen some miracle and I’ll manage to avail the schedule in time.” A younger brother wrote, “Brother, you should go by taxi-cab. But you could try the bus once. Dhaka buses run quite well!” I replied, “Brother, I’m not surely making any attempt of getting on a bus! That’ll be horrible, you know. I was just seeking for a suggestion as I don’t know about the route. Thanks for the suggestion. I think a CNG powered taxi can help me in this regard. A taxi-cab is prone to getting stuck up in the congestion forever. A bike could be a better solution. But, I can’t manage it.”

Mrs. Zohra, whose name was Ira—an extremely distinguished lady—commented, “You need a bike?” “That would be wonderful.” “Alright, let me see what I can do.” She was the Deputy Managing Director of ONE Bank. After completing her studies in Chemistry from Chittagong University, she had done her MBA from IBA. She worked in the corporate sector, but there were very few people who didn’t know her. I have a sister. Her name is Sharmin Muiz Khan. At that time, she was one of those rare souls who loved someone as insignificant as me far more than necessary, showered me with affection for no particular reason. She was almost my mother’s age, but I addressed her as ‘tumi’ and she called me ‘tui’. She had studied English Literature at Dhaka University. She particularly loved my writing. She was a business magnate and had connections with many prominent people. I have rarely seen a lady as distinguished, refined, elegant, and utterly graceful as her. She commented, “Bappi, someone needs to grab you and give you a good thrashing. Are you enjoying confusing everyone by calling them all the time? Please stop wasting your time browsing Facebook and concentrate on tomorrow’s exam. Otherwise, you’re calling for another disaster. There is a saying: ‘Que sera, sera’ meaning: Whatever will be, will be. So, pray and try your best. I have given this opinion after a lot of serious thoughts. Please follow it. You will leave here right now. I don’t want to see you making even one more comment! MIRACLES HAPPEN IF YOU BELIEVE IN YOURSELF!” I replied, “Didi, things are that they’re. Things will be that they will be. And, between this two there lie some miracles that we’re never aware of. And, miracles are often stranger than facts. Facts are because they’re. Miracles are because we or someone else wants them to be. That’s the truth!” She called Mrs. Zohra. She said, “Look Ira, my brother has gotten into a bit of trouble. The poor thing is a simple soul, we should do something for him. Can’t you arrange a bike for him?” A little while later, I saw a message from Mrs. Zohra in my inbox: “Please give me your contact number. Regards” I gave it immediately. The call came within seconds. After introducing herself, she said, “You need a bike Monday at 4 PM, right?” “That would be wonderful.” “OK, a bike will be there for you at 4. My colleague Romel will pick you. Alright?” “I am truly, truly grateful. Thank you so very much!” “Let’s get the work done first, then you can thank me. I’m texting you Romel’s number. Take care.” She hung up immediately. I wrote to her: “Life is stranger than fiction, I repeat. From myself, I’ve got much less than I truly deserve. From others, I’ve got much more than I truly deserve. Is it the thing that they call miracle? I don’t know and never try to know. I let miracles happen and thankfully they always happen . . . . . . . Thank you for your generous approach. This really means a lot to me.” I wrote my piece. I don’t know if she ever read it or had the time to read it. Noble souls don’t wait for thanks. Besides, she was truly, truly busy.

He was the head of the credit section at One Bank. He had no reason to know a nobody like me, yet he knew me through my writing. Otherwise, I would never have had the privilege of speaking with him directly. And the fact that Sharmin didi had spoken to him about me—that was a big deal too. The next day was the Bangladesh Affairs Paper 2 exam. I went to sleep without studying any of it. The day after, straight from the exam hall, I went to the Westex showroom at Probortak intersection. My life’s first interview. I was incredibly excited! I had decided I’d go to the interview board wearing everything brand new. I bought a formal white shirt, black pants, black tie, black belt, black socks, white undershirt, and brown shoes. Later, from Gallery Apex I bought formal Oxford shoes, and from Time Zone a Titan wristwatch, then returned home in the evening. Seeing my antics, Ma was laughing. “Ma, why are you laughing?” “Just because, dear.” The funny thing was, Ma went with me to the exam hall every single day. She always kept me close, just like a child. Ma said, “Tomorrow I’m going to the airport with you.” And she did go—despite my protests.

Monday, the 17th. International Affairs exam. I couldn’t stay in the exam hall for the entire time due to nerves. I don’t have a car, what if the CNG takes too long to reach the airport! What if I miss the flight! The flight was at 3:20. And it takes at least 2 hours to reach the airport from Omar Gani MES College by 1 PM. Our written exam had been during winter. In the bitter cold, my fingers would freeze. Still, I kept rubbing my palms together to warm them, blowing hot breath into the hollow of my cupped hands, and wrote with all my strength. Instead of 1 o’clock, I finished the exam at 12:30, submitted my paper, and rushed out. When I emerged from the hall and reached the gate, everyone thought I must have been expelled! The intense stress was clearly written all over my face. Many showed me sympathy, told me not to worry, advised me to do better in the next BCS. I didn’t have time to respond. What could I say anyway—at that moment, life itself was one giant question mark for me! I don’t know what strength possessed my mother. She ran almost twice as fast as me, covering the distance from the college campus to the road. We got into a CNG without bargaining, paying nearly one and a half times the normal fare. I told the driver, “However you manage it, get us to the airport within two hours. If necessary, I’ll pay you extra.” It was 12:50 on the clock. The CNG started speeding. Mother opened the tiffin box and fed me khichuri, meat, and fried egg. One thought kept spinning in my head: “Will I catch the plane? If we get stuck in traffic, it’s all over!” I took off my sweater. I had left home that morning wearing my viva outfit, everything except the tie. After escaping two minor traffic jams, when we reached the airport, it was 5 minutes to 3. As soon as I got down, I touched my mother’s and aunt’s feet in respect (a distant aunt had come with us since mother couldn’t return home from the airport alone) and ran to the counter. There I learned that the flight was delayed by an hour due to dense fog. I thought, if the plane leaves at that time, there’s no way I can reach IBA by 5:15. I informed the counter staff about this. They said there was nothing they could do; they were very sorry. I inquired and learned that no other flights were departing at that time either. At that moment, I felt utterly helpless, just wanting to cry. I felt like I had no one, no one at all! I kept going from counter to counter. I found out there was a Bangladesh Biman flight departing at 3:45. There was no other flight before that. It was a bigger plane, taking 30 minutes to reach, whereas other planes take at least 40 minutes. Meaning, I would reach Dhaka airport by 4:15! I bought the ticket right then. There was great hope in my heart—if this one leaves on time, there’s nothing more to worry about. I went to the airport restroom and quickly put on my tie. I adjusted my shirt once more. Looking in the mirror, I fixed my hair with my hand. The clock hand crossed 4 after passing 3:45. The plane was delayed due to fog. We all boarded the plane at 4:15. It was my first time on a plane. I kept thinking, when will it take off, when will it take off! Every second felt like an hour! The tension was making it hard to breathe, yet the plane wouldn’t take off. I thought, oh! If only I could spend all my strength to make this plane soar into the sky! I pressed my handkerchief over my eyes to hide my tears. Finally, the plane took off. It was 4:37 on the clock. I was thinking, oh!

The plane could have taken off directly without taxiing! At least a couple of minutes would have been saved! The plane landed on Dhaka’s runway at 5:13.

I burst out of the domestic terminal running with all my might, and gasping for breath, I saw a motorcycle come to a stop right in front of me. “You’re Sushanta, right? Get on the back!” I extended my hand to shake hands with the young man in the black helmet. He didn’t raise his black-gloved right fist for a handshake. “Time’s wasting, brother! Please get on! Quick!” I didn’t argue further. “You’re not used to riding bikes, are you?” “Yes. How did you know?” “Brother, I’ve been riding bikes for the past 18-20 years. I can tell.” “I see.” “Lean forward and press your chest firmly against my back! You can even wrap your arms around me, otherwise you’ll get thrown off. For sure! I’m going to ride fast.” The way that bike tore out of the airport—I don’t have the courage to even think about it today. Under normal circumstances, I might have screamed in fear and told him to stop, or I really would have been thrown off. But at that moment I knew that being afraid was important, but far more important was reaching IBA alive. I don’t know if the wheels of that 150cc bike actually touched the ground that day, but for the second time in my life I understood this truth: you cannot frighten someone who stakes their life to touch their dreams. I had only seen bikes racing so recklessly on the roads in movies. The bike was literally cutting through the whooshing sound of wind, as if flying through the air! “Say brother, are you somebody really important?” “What do you mean?” “Well, Madam told me that one of her very important friends had to be delivered from the airport to IBA within half an hour, no matter what. That was her order! Who are you, brother? Hahahaha………” “I’m Madam’s Facebook friend.” “What are you saying, man? How’s that possible! I was thinking even more… you mean you’ve never even met her?” “No, brother. Why?” (There’s a railway crossing ahead. The barrier is coming down.) “Brother, duck your head a little.” Saying this, he quickly rode the bike under the barrier without obeying the signal. Many people behind us were shouting for us to stop. “Brother, just don’t be afraid. Nothing will happen. You can close your eyes if you want.” Right at that moment, while quickly emerging from between two trucks standing side by side, he said, “Sit a bit smaller, brother!” A little further ahead—massive traffic jam at a signal! Romel bhai lifted the bike onto the sidewalk. “Brother, please give way a little, give way a little,” he kept saying as he raced forward. He had to do this several times. Sometimes when riding on the central divider in the middle of the road, traffic police would catch us, and he’d say in a tearful voice, “Sir, my aunt is fighting for her life in the medical college. I’m going to donate blood. O-negative blood—we can’t find any. If I don’t reach on time, we won’t be able to save my aunt, sir!” He’d manage the police with this story and then race off at the same speed again! Whenever there was a traffic jam on the road, he’d immediately change to another road. That day I learned that when obstacles appear on the road, it doesn’t mean there is no road. Rather, it means you have to take a different road! Right now!! I had only seen such daredevil biking in Hollywood action movies. Looking at my hair in the bike’s mirror, it seemed as if it had stood up straight after an electric shock! My face was covered with dust from the city. In the fierce wind, my tie was flying behind me in the air. I don’t know if anyone has ever seen a bike race so recklessly through Dhaka’s roads during rush hour. But for some reason, I truly wasn’t afraid at all. I kept thinking over and over, “How quickly can one reach IBA!” Romel bhai had finished his honors and master’s from Dhaka College before joining the bank. I had asked him, “What’s your designation at the bank?” He had joked, “Not much, just 14 more promotions and I’ll be able to sit in Zohra Madam’s chair. Hahaha…….”

When I arrived in front of IBA, my watch showed 5:52. As I got down, I saw my younger brother Pappu and his friend Arefin standing there. At that time, I had my gift shop ‘Dobhana.’ Pappu and Arefin were my working partners. They often came to Dhaka from Chawk Bazaar in Old Dhaka to buy wholesale goods for the shop. I had withdrawn myself from the shop to focus on my BCS exam preparation. They ran everything. They were already in Dhaka on shop business. I had told them to go to the IBA MBA program office and keep me updated by phone about the viva board situation. Through repeated conversations with them, I was checking whether the interview board was still there, asking them to go to the program office and explain that I couldn’t arrive on time due to flight delays, terrible traffic jams, and so on. As soon as I got down, they informed me, “Bhaiya, the board left 4-5 minutes ago. Now only the Executive MBA viva remains.” After introducing them to Romel bhai, I rushed up to the MBA program office on the second floor. As soon as they saw me, everyone there stopped their work and looked at me. I saw Rahi Sir busy with something; he didn’t respond to my greeting. “Sir, I’m very late. Despite trying hard, I couldn’t arrive on time. I…” Without giving me a chance to say anything more, he shouted, “You Idiot! Get out!” “Sir, I…” “I said, Get out! Out! Out!! I knew very well that you wouldn’t be able to come on time. Is it possible to take one exam in Chittagong and then come to Dhaka for another exam? That easy? You’ve just wasted my time! I had told everyone that a boy from Chittagong would come at 5:15, and we needed to take his viva. Did you think I am a joker?” “Sir, I came here with great difficulty. The flight was delayed, there was heavy traffic on the road. I really…” “It’s none of my business! Get out! Go back where you came from.” “Sir, I had many dreams of studying at IBA.” “Everyone on the street has such dreams. I gave you a chance but you missed it. That’s all! Get out of here.” “Sir, please have some mercy…” (I felt like falling at his feet and crying…) Right beside him sat a gentle-looking gentleman much younger than the sir. He said, “Sir, I’ve heard about him. His younger brother kept coming to our program office. They had been standing in front of the office for hours. His flight was indeed delayed. And there’s heavy traffic in Dhaka today too. A friend of mine came to my room from the airport a while ago; it took him a long time to get here too. Give him a chance, Sir. He’s come so far, taking such risks with great difficulty! He apparently has another written exam tomorrow too. The poor fellow has to return to Chittagong today itself.” “Son, you junior faculty members don’t even know what you’re saying, what kind of requests you make. Why are you pleading for him? Is he your relative or something?” “No no Sir, I’m seeing him for the first time today. Just look at his face once, Sir. He’s really come here with great difficulty. Please do him a favor, Sir.” “You have no idea what you are talking about! Will the Executive MBA viva be the same as theirs? They have 3 years of job experience, while these are just children in comparison!

“This won’t be possible, brother. I am sorry!” “Sir, please help the poor fellow a bit. He’s come such a long way with so much hope!” “Son, we can’t manage anything more for you!” I stood a little distance away, head bowed. Looking at me, he called out loudly, “Hey, stupid! Why are you standing there like a donkey? Go on, go to the third floor! Go and stand there absolutely quietly. We’ll call you.” I truly couldn’t understand whether such a beautiful moment had ever come anywhere in this world before! Tears began streaming down my face. I prayed again and again from my heart for Babu sir. Rahi sir seemed like a father figure to me. I kept remembering mother’s words: “Never get angry at teachers’ scolding. When teachers scold, it means blessings.” Overwhelmed with emotion, as I was about to leave after thanking and saluting the teachers, Rahi sir called from behind, “Hey crazy boy! Comb your hair before entering the board! Wash your face at the basin! Don’t be so scared! Hahaha…” I couldn’t say anything more. I kept staring blankly at sir’s face. My cheeks were wet with tears from both eyes. Babu sir placed his hand on my shoulder and said, “Go on, go upstairs and wait. We are not that much bad people as you thought us to be. Sometimes even the IBA faculties are too good! Freshen up, give your interview properly, now there’s no tension anymore. What’s your exam tomorrow?” “Sir, Mathematical Reasoning and Mental Ability.” “How will you go?” “Sir, I have a return plane ticket.” “Good! Brother, splash some water on your eyes and face to fix your appearance. Give your viva quickly and rush to the airport! Good luck!” At that moment I felt like touching sir’s feet in salute. People get frightened by sudden intense love. For the first time, it suddenly struck me: “What if I can’t honor this love of my teachers? What if I don’t get a chance at IBA in the end?”

When we find ourselves in trouble, if our intentions are pure, a way out always emerges! I went to the washroom on the third floor and tried my best to “make myself presentable” by wetting my hair and smoothing it down. After splashing water on my face, I went and waited in front of the notice board. I was called after 10 minutes. It was nearly seven o’clock. When I entered the room, I saw many faculty members seated there. I hadn’t known that so many would be present for an interview. I thought this was perhaps how IBA interviews were conducted. I later learned that this entire panel had been assembled just for me. Apart from Babu Sir and Rahi Sir, I didn’t recognize anyone else. After getting admitted, I realized that those present that evening were IBA’s most senior and accomplished faculty members. The board included Saiful Majid Sir, Shama-e-Zahir Sir, Mamun Sir, Munir Khosru Sir, Niaz Sir, and Saif Noman Khan Sir. Most of the junior faculty had finished their interviews and gone home, while some senior faculty were in their offices conducting Executive MBA interviews. Some of them had been specially called in. I was in the interview for about 18-20 minutes. Many of the faculty members knew about my situation that day. I had heard of something called “divine possession” in life. At certain special moments, due to particular external influences or circumstances, people suddenly gain extraordinary power. In those moments, they step outside their normal state and display different behavior. They can harness the utmost potential of their inner infinite strength. In that wondrous balanced fusion of emotion and capability, the best version of themselves emerges. From the moment I entered the interview room, I had very likely become a different person, or perhaps the very best ‘me’ from within had emerged that day. By what divine signal this happened, I don’t know. No hesitation, doubt, nervousness, fear, the day’s exhaustion, or lethargy was affecting me at all. I felt incredibly composed and light as a feather. It felt as though whatever I was saying or doing was the best possible. I was experiencing the finest moment of my life right then and there. I can say with complete honesty that the style in which I spoke English that day—I have never in my entire life, even to this day, been able to speak English so flawlessly and fluently. That day the faculty members engaged in various kinds of humor during the interview. They were having great fun with me. Most likely, the faculty wanted to “shake me up” somehow. I don’t know why, by whose indication I don’t know, but I kept answering all their questions one by one with a very cool head and a smile that day. They interviewed me in English on various diverse topics, starting from describing the entire day’s events and the preceding Facebook incidents to many other subjects. (Of course, at IBA there’s absolutely no opportunity to give interviews in Bengali.) Why I wanted to pursue an MBA, why IBA if I was going to take government job exams anyway, my weaknesses, whether I’d ever been in love, how I spend my leisure time, some conversation about reading books, various economic issues of Bangladesh, some personal and family matters, my future plans, the breathless motorcycle journey from A to Z, the BCS examination system, why I went into engineering despite having no interest, why I delayed my honors degree, why I didn’t study properly, why my CGPA was so low, what I like to eat, what kind of personality I prefer in people, what I know about IBA, some current affairs, and several other questions. I was answering very quickly in correct English. The faculty praised this too. I gave a very simple, straightforward, and candid interview. I didn’t speak a single false word that day.

I didn’t need to think before speaking—whatever came to mind, I simply said, so there was no chance to fabricate lies. At the end, they asked me to sing a song. When I said, “I can’t, Sir,” Babu Sir showed me my info-form and laughed, saying, “But you’ve claimed so.” I had written Reading, Writing, Singing in the hobbies section… At that moment, it felt like I was living the best day of my life. I sang, “Aaj ei dintake…” “I see, we’re getting a singer for our cultural program!” As Saiful Majid Sir was saying this, Babu Sir interjected, “Sir, he has another exam tomorrow. He’ll probably be flying back to Chittagong tonight.” Then three or four teachers exclaimed in unison, “What! He’s going back to Chittagong right now? Well then, run along, run along! Go downstairs and see if your superman biker is there! Hahahaha…” As I was leaving with my salaam, the teachers called out, “Best of luck for your tomorrow’s exam.” I kept thinking, again and again—I’ll make it, I’ll make it! (Even after giving the BCS viva, I didn’t feel this good.)

When I stepped out of IBA, it was half past seven on the clock. I knew there was no way I could catch the 7:45 flight. I also knew that I had no idea how I would get to Chittagong that night. I didn’t even feel like thinking about it. Only the exhilarating rush of having given a good exam was coursing through me. Pappu and Arefin had been waiting for me at Madhu’s canteen. Taking them along, I went to the front of Dhaka University’s Central Library and leisurely began eating vegetable pakoras and tea. Many of my students studied in various departments at Dhaka University. Quite a few came to see me. They were asking what questions had been asked in the interview. After a day of incredible experiences, my head had become almost entirely empty. I couldn’t understand why I wasn’t feeling the slightest urgency to return to Chittagong. Pappu asked, “Brother, will you take the night bus?” I said, “Yes, that could work.” (It amuses me now to think how casually I had said ‘that could work’!) The road conditions weren’t good then either, there were always traffic jams. It didn’t even occur to me—what would happen if I couldn’t reach by 10 AM tomorrow? Ripon, a dear younger brother who lived in Chittagong and was one of my former students, said, “Brother, I have a non-AC train ticket; for Turna Nishitha, leaving tonight. It doesn’t matter if I don’t go to Chittagong today. Brother, you take it.” “Alright, fine,” I said, took the ticket, and set off toward Kamalapur Station. That night the train left nearly an hour and a half late. I didn’t even want to think about what was going to happen! I had already surrendered myself to fate long before. In my mind I kept repeating only this: whatever will be, will be. Whether I want it or not, it will happen. And whatever is happening is surely for the good; whatever will happen will surely be for the good too. Let’s see! After the day’s exhaustion, I had a very peaceful sleep. Suddenly I woke up hearing commotion around me. The train had stopped at Comilla. Apparently there was some problem with the line. We were delayed there for nearly two and a quarter hours. I couldn’t understand why I wasn’t feeling any kind of anxiety! I fell asleep again. Sleep is the world’s only faithful lover. Whenever I want it, I find it near. Never, under any circumstances, does it abandon me. There can be no purer love than the love for sleep.

When the train reached Chittagong railway station the next day, it was a quarter to ten in the morning. My exam was scheduled to start at ten. It takes only fifteen minutes to get from the station to my house. When I got home, I found my mother sitting there with everything ready in her hands—my pencil box, board, scale, pen, calculator, admit card, registration card, all of it. My parents had been terribly anxious at home. I hadn’t been able to speak to them since after half past one at night. My mobile had run out of charge. (I was using a cheap Nokia 1100 mobile set back then. Everyone called it the “national set”! It was so sturdy that many would joke, “Dude, you could crack jackfruit with that phone!” I’d tease my friends who used expensive mobiles, saying, “My phone’s model is ‘N Eleven Zero Zero’!”) As soon as my mother saw me, she said, “Dear, how are you? Will you take today’s exam?” I felt emotionally numb. It seemed as though I was lighter than a feather at that moment, floating around in some kind of trance! I smiled and said, “Ma, I’m perfectly fine. I’ll take the exam.” Saying this, I took the packed shopping bag from my mother’s hands and left the house just as I was. It was 10:05 on the clock. From our house to the exam center, it takes at least thirty minutes by CNG during office hours. When I reached the college gate, it was 10:43. That day was the mathematical reasoning and mental ability test. The first two hours were mathematical reasoning, followed by one hour of mental ability. The exam had already started forty-three minutes earlier. Naturally, the police wouldn’t let me enter. I pleaded extensively, kept trying futilely to explain what had happened, but they weren’t willing to listen to anything. But I had made up my mind—I wasn’t going to turn back, I would get inside no matter what. A small commotion started gathering there. Seeing the crowd, the magistrate came over. After hearing my entire story, he said, “You only have one hour left. Can you finish all the math problems in this time?” Without a moment’s hesitation, I said, “I can, sir!” “Alright, go ahead. Good luck!” My heart overflowed with gratitude toward him. At that moment, he seemed to me not human, but divine! I went in, looked at the questions, took the exam. I even showed three problems to the person sitting next to me. (He got a job in Audit and Accounts in the 30th batch.) I scored 98 on that day’s exam—50 in math, 48 in mental ability. After that… well, as everyone says—the rest is history!

But this much is true: had that day’s exam been something other than mathematics, I would have been in real trouble. I can handle math because the type of problems that appeared in the BCS written exam back then weren’t particularly difficult for me to solve. Such problems don’t strain the mind much, and the 30th BCS written exam featured relatively easy math. Even if I worked through each step carefully and added side notes, it shouldn’t have taken more than half an hour. It didn’t for me either. However, spending two and a half hours on the International Affairs exam the day before had been risky. Actually, no matter how incredible the whole affair might seem, everything appears to have been predetermined by the Creator or nature itself. What remains inexplicable to our limited understanding is simply a natural, ordinary occurrence for the Creator. All our failures and successes are already decided beforehand. But to reach that point, the effort—or making the right decision at the right time—that we must do ourselves. I wasn’t even supposed to pass my undergraduate degree. Yet it was my destiny to complete my undergraduate studies, become a BCS cadre, study at IBA—all of it was written in my fate. Had my destiny been bound elsewhere, I would have gone there instead. I had enrolled in another master’s program under Dhaka University—MDS. After continuing that course for three months, I left it of my own accord. They had said I would need to officially hide the fact that I was simultaneously pursuing another master’s at IBA. I refused to lie. I harbor no regret about this, though. I’ve accepted that pursuing that particular master’s degree simply wasn’t written in my destiny. This is the truth, this is reality. I had gained admission to Dhaka University’s Evening MBA program in Finance, ranking sixth on the merit list, but never had to attend classes there. I received my IBA admission test results before that. I did complete my master’s in Finance from Dhaka University, but the Evening MBA program wasn’t destined for me, so I didn’t pursue my master’s degree from there.

Stepping into two boats in the middle of a river ensures certain death. Logic dictates this. But I placed my feet in two boats, taking the maximum risk—I had no other choice—yet both boats moved forward in parallel at the same speed at the same time, so I didn’t slip between them and lose my life. What explanation could there be for this? Life doesn’t follow logic; life follows the Creator’s signals. Life doesn’t always operate according to explanations. Sometimes life moves on faith. So there’s nothing to say about anyone’s personal philosophy and the life they live according to their beliefs, as long as that life doesn’t interfere with someone else’s way of living. Somewhere, no explicable form of life can be seen, and life is just like this!

Through sheer mental strength alone, I had believed that some miracle would surely occur. It did happen, because in Providence’s master plan, that’s what was meant to happen. Everything in between was the Creator’s games or plans to test my patience and concentration. You will never be given a gift you don’t deserve. You will be tested, and if you fail to pass that test, you will deprive yourself of the Creator’s grace through your own fault. I’m sharing with you the Facebook status I posted after the IBA admission test results came out, along with a couple of my own comments on it:

Friends, I’ve been finally selected for admission into the MBA Program of IBA, Dhaka University. …… feeling happy. ……. HATS OFF to Sharmeen didi, Ira madam & Romel bhai!!

# My dear friends….. Your gorgeous presence on my wall makes me think twice about the POWER of friendship & the MAGIC of love. YES……… They matter!! I just want to be with you forever. Please never say GOODBYE…. It hurts!! Your kindness and care mean a lot to me. You’ve always given me much more than I really deserve. Please accept my sincere GRATITUDE.

Happy Social Networking!!

Long live Facebook!!

My best wishes for our Friendship!!

……… Love you all ……

# (To one of my close friends) Dost, not reaching the Interview Session on 17 January at 5:30 pm was what I thought to be….. reaching there in time was what was written in my DESTINY….. And, I ended up calling it a MIRACLE, something I never believed in before…… Just have a look at the schedule of 17 January……

International Affairs Exam (BCS written exam)…. 10:00 am — 1:00 pm

The departure time of the GMG Airlines: 3:20 pm, there was a delay of about 1 hour due to fog and I availed another delayed flight of Bangladesh Biman at 4:37 pm.

The plane landed on Dhaka Airport at 5:13 pm and then I started my fight against time to meet the deadline by bike with Romel bhai!! Who managed those three saviours (Sharmeen didi, Ira madam & Romel bhai) for me? I don’t know. You better ask the Heaven! I saw such a breath-taking motor-bike driving only in English movies. Before that day, I had never thought I would experience it!!

Life is sometimes stranger than fiction . . . . Who can tell it better than I?

# (To one of my senior high-profile Indian friends) Thank you Sir for your words of felicitation. IBA of Dhaka University is considered as the most prestigious institute for doing MBA in Bangladesh. As per the rules of that Business School, the Major/Field of Specialization is allowed to be chosen at the final semester judging the academic records & intention of a candidate. I don’t have much idea about what to choose and why to choose. Please share some ideas on it as you’ve huge practical knowledge (so far as I know) about the present corporate trend.

You’ve nicely stated the trend of our careerist B-school graduates. No one really cares about their own aptitude, rather, tries to be what market wants them to be. Personally, I always like the decision-making and mainstream operational sections of giant companies. And, probably I’ll go for finance as my major when I’ve to choose it in my final semester. Yes, my semester results must be well enough to work on my advantage. That’ll be a story of one and a half years later. Till then, I’ll have to undergo the generalized curriculum as my B-school formulates. The recent economic recession worries our friends studying at the US universities. And, almost all of them suggest me not to plan of staying there. But at the same time, they suggest me completing my PhD in the US if I want to and grab that opportunity. Let’s wait and see. . . . . Are you in India now? Hope you’re quite OK along with your busy schedule. Please, sometimes give me your valuable suggestions when you’ve time and you’re here on Facebook. . . . . Thank you once again for your helpful advice. Take care.

In explaining the final part of the status shared above, I had written these words:

Let me share the Story behind the Story and elucidate the last part of my status. It would have been quite impossible for me to reach Dhaka University from Dhaka International Airport within just 50 minutes (!!) to attend the interview session of IBA in time on Jan 17, but for the cordial help of Sharmeen didi (Sharmeen Muiz) & Ira madam (Johora Bebe Ira). They’re the persons who made that miracle happen!! And, Romel bhai (Monirul Alam Romel) is the “Man with the Bike” who dared fight against time to meet the deadline!! ……. I feel honoured to express my heartfelt gratitude to these three saviours. …….. Miracles Happen When You Believe!!

I conclude this piece with a beautifully strange comment Sharmeen didi made on that status: “My prayers, good wishes, and prayers remain with you. Dear brother of mine, may you grow to great heights. And may the successful reflection of our efforts (Ira’s and mine) shine through in everything you do. I was there, I am here, I will be there. …….. Heaps of hugs and love.”

What sustains a human being? We live on love, on prayers, on good wishes. These are what keep me alive—quite well alive, in fact. My gratitude!

P.S. Let me offer you some practical wisdom. Those who think they know too much, who consider themselves supremely intelligent, who speak in grand terms without any real qualifications or notable position, who try to diminish others even through outright lies, who pontificate without knowledge, who speak to you in such a manner that you begin to doubt your own confidence—I would advise you to absolutely, absolutely, and absolutely avoid such people. They themselves cannot go very far in life, nor will they allow you to go very far either.

(Written 2-3 years ago)

I have been meaning to write this piece for at least the past four years. Due to my characteristic laziness, it remained buried among my lost writings all this time. Unable to let it slip away entirely, I have resolved today to begin writing with the firm determination that, no matter how difficult it becomes, I will not leave this chair until it is finished. The trouble with not writing when one should is that the emotion and enthusiasm of that moment are lost, and often the writing fails to come alive. However, there are many exceptions to this. Sanjibchandra Chattopadhyay, the elder brother of Bankimchandra Chattopadhyay, worked for quite some time as a Deputy Magistrate in the exquisitely beautiful, remote forest region of Palamau. Many years later, he wrote ‘Palamau,’ a work born of memory and reflection. For those who have not yet read ‘Palamau,’ I will say just one thing to convey what kind of writing it is: when Bishwa Sahitya Kendra began its publishing work, everyone at the center was perplexed about which among so many masterpieces of world literature should be printed first. It was then that Abdullah Abu Sayeed decided that the first book published by Bishwa Sahitya Kendra would be ‘Palamau.’ But let me return to what I was saying. To discuss why writing intended to be written often never materializes would be to commit great injustice to oneself and others. So I shall not venture into that discussion. However, regarding this particular piece, I will only say this much: when attempting to describe one of life’s most incredible events, my hands tremble with excitement, memories blur, and a fear pervades my entire being—what would today have been like if everything that day had unfolded differently? I keep thinking that today would not have been anything like today. Today I would have been someone else entirely. Everything around me would have seemed like something else altogether. The truth is, life does not unfold the way we imagine it will. Life unfolds as life does. The color of life appears one way in imagination, but the actual color is different. Even if we think we will spend our lives playing with life itself, it does not necessarily follow that life will pass in precisely that manner. What will happen and what will not—all of this is predetermined. Our task is simply to perform brilliantly on this stage in our own way. The more skillful one’s performance, the more intimately one tastes the flavor of life.

The 30th BCS written examination began on January 11, 2011, and concluded on January 23. On the evening of Wednesday the 12th, I checked the IBA website at Dhaka University and discovered that I was among those who had passed the written portion of the MBA program admission test for the 45th batch. The candidates who passed the written exam would be divided into several groups for interviews, and my group was scheduled for Monday, January 17, at 10 AM at IBA. I had taken the BCS examination from Chittagong, where the PSC-designated examination center for Chittagong candidates was Omar Gani MES College. On the day of my IBA interview, the International Affairs exam was also scheduled to begin at 10 AM. Attending an exam at Dhaka University at the same time was simply impossible. I knew that IBA didn’t offer many second chances. Having secured this opportunity, I couldn’t imagine myself foolish or generous enough to let it slip away. Instead of studying for the next day’s Bangladesh Affairs Paper I, I began calling everyone I knew who had studied at IBA or was familiar with it. I still remember the intense excitement of that time. When something you desperately want comes within reach, yet circumstances force you to let it go—staying calm in such a moment is nearly impossible. Everyone I spoke with on the phone said the same thing: “You can’t have two good things at once. You’ll have to give up one of them. If you try to keep a foot in both boats, you’ll end up with neither. Besides, you can take the BCS exam again, and you can also take the IBA admission test again. Let go of one.” Those who valued the corporate sector highly told me to abandon BCS. Those who valued the civil service told me to pursue IBA later. No one could suggest a way to manage both. At that moment, neither option seemed bigger or smaller to me—my mind had gone completely blank, and I felt as though life was playing a game of Snakes and Ladders with me. The dice might roll such a number that I’d end up in the belly of a snake—but then again, it might not. Sometimes the number that comes up sends you climbing a ladder high above. Life’s Snakes and Ladders board doesn’t contain only snakes—there are ladders too! Who’s to say this throw won’t land on a ladder? Life is indeed like Snakes and Ladders, where the highest number isn’t necessarily the best. Perhaps I’d roll two sixes and then a five—totaling seventeen, the highest possible—yet still end up sliding down a long snake. But equally possible: rolling the smallest number, just one, and finding myself climbing rapidly up a ladder to great heights. Understanding the game of less is the most difficult thing of all! The highest number isn’t always the best. You must see how much is actually needed. Great income, great torment—what need is there for such a large sum? Knowing how to choose the right number for your life is a great art indeed!

I thought, why should I surrender before I’ve even lost? I’ll see this through to the end. At home, my parents were also saying, “Give up one of them.” My heart was telling me, “I won’t give up, not for anything!” Let me gamble with life this once and see what happens! You have to listen to your heart. I called the MBA Program Office. Zakir bhai was in charge there. He said, “IBA’s schedule doesn’t change for anyone. You change your schedule.” I said, “That’s not possible. You have several slots. BCS has only one.” Even after that he said, “It’s not possible in any way. We’re sorry!” Saying this, he hung up the phone, and my stubbornness only grew stronger. I put aside studying for the next day’s exam. After some inquiries, I learned that Rahi Sir was the Program Chairman for IBA’s MBA at the time. Only he could change my interview slot if he wanted to. Rahi Sir is an incredibly fierce person. IBA’s Marketing Department is the best in Bangladesh. Rahi Sir is the best faculty in that department. I got his number. The person I got the number from asked, “Are you really going to call Rahi Sir?” “Yes. Why?” “We students never dare to call Sir. And you’re going to call him for this?” “I will. I have to. My back is against the wall.” “God bless you, man! You better think twice.” I said, “Sometimes life doesn’t give you the opportunity to think twice. It’s the first and the only chance! I must grab it before it’s too late! I will call him. I’ll make my attempt—if it works, it works; if not, so be it. If I don’t try, it definitely won’t work. Thank you, bhai!” Right after finishing that conversation, without any second thoughts, I called Rahi Sir. A man with an extremely serious voice. It’s frightening just to speak with him. But I have nothing left to lose. I only know this: I passed IBA’s written exam and IBA has to conduct my interview. I had truly become reckless. I blurted out my entire problem in one breath. Rahi Sir said, “You silly kid! You’ve dared to call Rahi Sir for this! Did you think I am your friend? It’s not my business whether you can attend the viva board or not. You have only 2 choices: Leave IBA, or, Leave BCS.” To my infinite amazement, I heard myself saying, “Sir, I have called you to hear about the third choice. If you don’t have that, please make it for me. I know I’ll be at IBA.” Sir said very loudly over the phone, “You are a stupid little boy. You just know nothing about the things here! Don’t waste my time. I am busy!” “Sir, please give me a chance. I am………” I couldn’t make him hear any more—he hung up before that. I couldn’t understand what had happened, only felt an even stronger desire to believe that I would definitely study at IBA. BCS seemed to fade for a moment. Whatever happens in tomorrow’s exam will happen. Right now I need to sort out the IBA situation first. I called the program office again.

I asked, “When can I actually meet Rahi sir?” “What do you mean?” “Sir told me to come see him.” “Ask sir himself when you can actually meet him.” (I mustered the courage to lie….) “Sir said to call the program office and find out.” “He told you to ask us? Really! Alright, stay on the line, let me check sir’s class schedule.” Zakir bhai informed me that if I came next Friday evening, I could meet sir. Saying “thank you very much,” I hung up the phone and immediately left home to buy a bus ticket. From near Gariullah Shah’s shrine in Chittagong, I bought a ticket on Unique’s non-AC bus to Dhaka for Thursday night. The next day, under tremendous mental pressure, I took my Bangladesh Studies Paper 1 exam. Even in the exam hall, my mind kept racing: “Will Rahi sir keep his word?” In my answer sheet, I mistakenly wrote the word “Rahi” several times, though I crossed it out later.

I arrived at IBA before afternoon on Friday. I stood waiting in front of the MBA Program Office. Zakir bhai wasn’t there at the time—he came in the evening, two hours later. I went up and introduced myself. “Oh, I see, you’ve come from Chittagong. Rahi sir mentioned he would speak with you about changing your interview schedule? Really??” “Yes, he told me to come see him!” We were talking when Rahi sir arrived shortly after. He went straight through the program office into his room. A dignified man of serious disposition. His office was right next to the program office. Zakir bhai said, “Please sit on the sofa. Let me ask sir if he’s free right now.” When he told sir, “Someone named Sushanta Pal has come from Chittagong to see you—you had asked him to come,” sir immediately shouted quite loudly, “I didn’t ask anyone to come see me! Tell him to leave. Disgusting!” Zakir bhai told me, “Sir won’t see you. You should go.” “I’ll leave, but only after meeting with sir. Brother, I haven’t come here to turn back. I must see him.” Almost forcefully, I entered sir’s room without permission. After I said very politely, “Assalamu alaikum, sir,” he returned the greeting and said, “What do you want?” There were several other students in the room who had come to sir for various matters. “Sir, I called you the day before yesterday evening.” “Is it my duty to remember your call? Get out!” I said nothing and stood there with my head bowed. The words “Get out!” didn’t register in my mind. At that moment, I only knew that I would speak with Rahi sir about changing the schedule, and sir would surely agree to do so. After standing like this for nearly half an hour, sir said, “Why are you standing here like a statue?” I fearfully placed an application about changing the time slot on sir’s desk and began to say, “Sir, the day before yesterday I spoke with you on the phone…” “Speak in the language I am using now.” “Sir, my interview has been scheduled for next Monday at 10 in the morning. I am appearing for the 30th BCS written exam. I have an exam at the same time. So, I request you to shift my schedule to another convenient time slot.” “Sorry, we cannot.” “Please Sir! Otherwise, my dream to be here will be shattered.” “Let it be. Just go for BCS. You will do better being a civil servant.” “But Sir, it’s uncertain.” “Is being here certain for you?” “No Sir, that’s why I cannot leave any of these 2 opportunities. Please Sir, give me a chance. Do me a favour. I will be ever grateful, Sir.” “What time is your exam?” “10 o’clock, sir.” “How long?” “Three hours, sir.” “Okay fine, come straight here after your exam. Can you make it by 1:30?” I realized sir had forgotten that I’d come from Chittagong. “Sir, I’m taking the exam from Chittagong.” “Stupid! We cannot change our schedule for you! Are you Mr President?” “No Sir, I just want to be your student! I will do anything you tell me to do. Please give me a chance, Sir!” “Look, brother, you won’t be able to finish your exam at 1 o’clock and come from Chittagong to take the interview anyway.

You won’t make it even if you leave at 10 PM. The roads are in terrible condition, there’s heavy traffic.” “Sir, I can come in the evening.” “How? By plane?” “Yes, sir. Please give me a chance, sir.” “Alright. Don’t you have an exam the next day?” “I do, sir. I can manage. I’ll buy a return ticket.” “What time can you arrive?” “Whatever you say, sir.” “Your exam will end at 1 PM. Hmm… okay, can you make it to the 3 o’clock board?” “Yes sir, I can be there at 3.” “Do you know if there are flights at that time?” “I don’t know, sir. I’ll find out.” “I think there’s a flight around 3.” “What time can you arrive?” “4 o’clock, sir?” “Foolish boy! Your brain isn’t working. How can you take a 3 o’clock flight from Chittagong and get from the airport to IBA by 4? You have no idea about Dhaka city. Okay, you come by 5:15 sharp. You will be last person in that board. If you come after that, nothing can be done. The evening board is for Executive MBA. It won’t be possible to hold your viva there. Okay?” “Thank you, sir.” “Youngman, you have decided to play with your life! Best of luck!” “Please pray for me, sir. I can do this!” Tears came to my eyes. I realized that though this man appeared stern on the outside, he was very gentle within. I offered many prayers for the sir and left IBA. I went to Aziz and bought some books. Then I went to Fakirapul and took the 10 PM non-AC bus from Unique, reaching Chittagong in the morning.

I’m sharing the application with you:

15 January 2011

The Program Director, MBA Program

Institute of Business Administration

University of Dhaka

Dhaka

Subject: Prayer for changing the time slot of the interview schedule of the MBA Program Admission

Sir,

This letter expresses my earnest request to change my interview schedule of the MBA Program Admission 2010-2011. I am a candidate for Full-Time Course, my admit number is 2745 and I am on Interview Board 6 scheduled to be conducted at the 10:00 am to 1:00 pm time slot on January 17, 2011. I am appearing at the 30th BCS written examination and my Examination Centre is at Chittagong. I have an examination on January 17, 2011, coincided with the same time slot of the interview and so it is not possible for me to come from Chittagong and attend the interview at 10:00 am.

I will be highly obliged if you kindly permit me to attend the interview at the 6:00 pm to 8:30 pm time slot scheduled for Evening Board 3 and Evening Board 4 on January 17, 2011.

Yours faithfully

Sushanta Paul

I had never been on a plane before. I thought that wherever you go, you need a passport to fly. My elder brother called a friend who works with passport services and asked what documents are needed for an emergency passport to Dhaka. He burst out laughing! He said, “Buddy, what do you need a passport for? A plane and a bus are the same thing. One flies in the sky, the other runs on the road. That’s all there is to it! Just go buy a ticket. That’s it! Which one is good? You can go with GMG. That’s pretty good.” I didn’t know that you don’t have to rush to the airport to buy a plane ticket. I had no idea how much tickets cost. Getting off the bus in the morning, I went straight to a Dutch-Bangla Bank booth and withdrew ten thousand taka. Then I jumped into a CNG and rushed to the airport. I bought a ticket from the GMG Airlines counter for the 3:20 flight on Monday, the 17th. That was the first Chittagong-Dhaka flight of the afternoon. I booked a return ticket for the same day on the 7:45 evening flight. I felt like I could see it right before my eyes—me attending classes at IBA! Such a strange vision! I returned home with a victorious smile, almost as if I had already gotten into IBA! At night, I tried to prepare from various guides and the internet about what they might ask in the IBA interview. I studied for about 4-5 hours. At the same time, I posted a status on Facebook: How much time does it take to reach Dhaka University from Dhaka International Airport? Is it possible to reach in 40 minutes? Friends, any suggestion, please? I was truly a very simple person back then. I saw the world in very simple terms. Since I hadn’t visited Dhaka much, I didn’t know that in 2011 it wasn’t possible to get from the airport to Shahbag in 40 minutes. Everyone was saying it would take a minimum of two hours to get from the airport to the university campus in the afternoon. All sorts of bizarre comments came in reply to my status. Many started making fun of me. I’ll share some of my friends’ suggestions: “It’s possible if you run.” “It would be great if you jogged to the university. You’d get your evening exercise too!” “You shouldn’t have bought that plane ticket! With that money, if you had thrown us a party, we all would have prayed together and your BCS would have worked out! Hahahaha…..” “Young man! You’re young, just run as soon as you get off the plane! You’ll see, you’ll reach before time!” “Listen, such-and-such bus runs on such-and-such route. Hanging and sleeping, you’ll reach IBA just fine!” I got many such absurd comments. I knew absolutely nothing about Dhaka then. When you’re in trouble, doesn’t everyone have to give you a kick? It began to feel like that’s just how life is! People can’t extend a hand to pull you up, but they can certainly extend a foot to kick you down! Without getting the least bit discouraged by anyone’s words, I kept waiting to see if someone would give some good advice. I didn’t react to anyone’s reply that day. How helplessly calm a person becomes when in trouble. All I knew was this: “I’m giving my IBA interview on the 17th.” One person wrote, “You can go by bike. There’s no faster way to reach the university campus.” Some people even supported that idea. A few mentioned taxi cabs. Support was strongest for the bike option. Up until then, I had ridden a bike maybe 2-3 times in my entire life, counting generously. I didn’t really know anyone in Dhaka who had a bike, or if I did know someone, my mind wasn’t working at all then. Sometimes I think now, alas!

I couldn’t even afford to manage a bike at that time. I wrote, “My flight is scheduled to land at Dhaka Airport at 4.10 pm on 17 January. I must reach Dhaka University at or before 5.15 pm. I’ve an interview at IBA at that time. . . . Can’t I do it? Is it not possible? I need to do it at any cost. As I don’t know about the routes of Dhaka City, I’m asking for your help. Dhaka City is an unknown city to me. Can a taxi cab help me reach there in 1 hour? I can’t be late, otherwise I’ll miss the interview schedule. I’ve managed that schedule today through an application. . . Can a bike be a better solution? Or, something else? I’m in great trouble. . . .” After posting this, the mocking and laughter began all over again. I replied to the distinguished gentleman (one of Bangladesh’s most successful businessmen) who had advised me to jog there: “Thank you Sir for you ‘jogging’ suggestion. I was also seriously thinking of this option. Yes, I’ll surely manage to reach in time by vehicles, on foot, again by vehicles, again on foot . . . . And, I’ll go. I’ll be there in time by any means.” Someone said, “Change the schedule once more.” I wrote, “The schedule can’t be changed! Hopefully, there will happen some miracle and I’ll manage to avail the schedule in time.” A younger brother wrote, “Brother, you should go by taxi-cab. But you could try the bus once. Dhaka buses run quite well!” I replied, “Brother, I’m not surely making any attempt of getting on a bus! That’ll be horrible, you know. I was just seeking for a suggestion as I don’t know about the route. Thanks for the suggestion. I think a CNG powered taxi can help me in this regard. A taxi-cab is prone to getting stuck up in the congestion forever. A bike could be a better solution. But, I can’t manage it.”

Mrs. Zohra, whose name was Ira—an extremely distinguished lady—commented, “You need a bike?” “That would be wonderful.” “Alright, let me see what I can do.” She was the Deputy Managing Director of ONE Bank. After completing her studies in Chemistry from Chittagong University, she had done her MBA from IBA. She worked in the corporate sector, but there were very few people who didn’t know her. I have a sister. Her name is Sharmin Muiz Khan. At that time, she was one of those rare souls who loved someone as insignificant as me far more than necessary, showered me with affection for no particular reason. She was almost my mother’s age, but I addressed her as ‘tumi’ and she called me ‘tui’. She had studied English Literature at Dhaka University. She particularly loved my writing. She was a business magnate and had connections with many prominent people. I have rarely seen a lady as distinguished, refined, elegant, and utterly graceful as her. She commented, “Bappi, someone needs to grab you and give you a good thrashing. Are you enjoying confusing everyone by calling them all the time? Please stop wasting your time browsing Facebook and concentrate on tomorrow’s exam. Otherwise, you’re calling for another disaster. There is a saying: ‘Que sera, sera’ meaning: Whatever will be, will be. So, pray and try your best. I have given this opinion after a lot of serious thoughts. Please follow it. You will leave here right now. I don’t want to see you making even one more comment! MIRACLES HAPPEN IF YOU BELIEVE IN YOURSELF!” I replied, “Didi, things are that they’re. Things will be that they will be. And, between this two there lie some miracles that we’re never aware of. And, miracles are often stranger than facts. Facts are because they’re. Miracles are because we or someone else wants them to be. That’s the truth!” She called Mrs. Zohra. She said, “Look Ira, my brother has gotten into a bit of trouble. The poor thing is a simple soul, we should do something for him. Can’t you arrange a bike for him?” A little while later, I saw a message from Mrs. Zohra in my inbox: “Please give me your contact number. Regards” I gave it immediately. The call came within seconds. After introducing herself, she said, “You need a bike Monday at 4 PM, right?” “That would be wonderful.” “OK, a bike will be there for you at 4. My colleague Romel will pick you. Alright?” “I am truly, truly grateful. Thank you so very much!” “Let’s get the work done first, then you can thank me. I’m texting you Romel’s number. Take care.” She hung up immediately. I wrote to her: “Life is stranger than fiction, I repeat. From myself, I’ve got much less than I truly deserve. From others, I’ve got much more than I truly deserve. Is it the thing that they call miracle? I don’t know and never try to know. I let miracles happen and thankfully they always happen . . . . . . . Thank you for your generous approach. This really means a lot to me.” I wrote my piece. I don’t know if she ever read it or had the time to read it. Noble souls don’t wait for thanks. Besides, she was truly, truly busy.

He was the head of the credit section at One Bank. He had no reason to know a nobody like me, yet he knew me through my writing. Otherwise, I would never have had the privilege of speaking with him directly. And the fact that Sharmin didi had spoken to him about me—that was a big deal too. The next day was the Bangladesh Affairs Paper 2 exam. I went to sleep without studying any of it. The day after, straight from the exam hall, I went to the Westex showroom at Probortak intersection. My life’s first interview. I was incredibly excited! I had decided I’d go to the interview board wearing everything brand new. I bought a formal white shirt, black pants, black tie, black belt, black socks, white undershirt, and brown shoes. Later, from Gallery Apex I bought formal Oxford shoes, and from Time Zone a Titan wristwatch, then returned home in the evening. Seeing my antics, Ma was laughing. “Ma, why are you laughing?” “Just because, dear.” The funny thing was, Ma went with me to the exam hall every single day. She always kept me close, just like a child. Ma said, “Tomorrow I’m going to the airport with you.” And she did go—despite my protests.

Monday, the 17th. International Affairs exam. I couldn’t stay in the exam hall for the entire time due to nerves. I don’t have a car, what if the CNG takes too long to reach the airport! What if I miss the flight! The flight was at 3:20. And it takes at least 2 hours to reach the airport from Omar Gani MES College by 1 PM. Our written exam had been during winter. In the bitter cold, my fingers would freeze. Still, I kept rubbing my palms together to warm them, blowing hot breath into the hollow of my cupped hands, and wrote with all my strength. Instead of 1 o’clock, I finished the exam at 12:30, submitted my paper, and rushed out. When I emerged from the hall and reached the gate, everyone thought I must have been expelled! The intense stress was clearly written all over my face. Many showed me sympathy, told me not to worry, advised me to do better in the next BCS. I didn’t have time to respond. What could I say anyway—at that moment, life itself was one giant question mark for me! I don’t know what strength possessed my mother. She ran almost twice as fast as me, covering the distance from the college campus to the road. We got into a CNG without bargaining, paying nearly one and a half times the normal fare. I told the driver, “However you manage it, get us to the airport within two hours. If necessary, I’ll pay you extra.” It was 12:50 on the clock. The CNG started speeding. Mother opened the tiffin box and fed me khichuri, meat, and fried egg. One thought kept spinning in my head: “Will I catch the plane? If we get stuck in traffic, it’s all over!” I took off my sweater. I had left home that morning wearing my viva outfit, everything except the tie. After escaping two minor traffic jams, when we reached the airport, it was 5 minutes to 3. As soon as I got down, I touched my mother’s and aunt’s feet in respect (a distant aunt had come with us since mother couldn’t return home from the airport alone) and ran to the counter. There I learned that the flight was delayed by an hour due to dense fog. I thought, if the plane leaves at that time, there’s no way I can reach IBA by 5:15. I informed the counter staff about this. They said there was nothing they could do; they were very sorry. I inquired and learned that no other flights were departing at that time either. At that moment, I felt utterly helpless, just wanting to cry. I felt like I had no one, no one at all! I kept going from counter to counter. I found out there was a Bangladesh Biman flight departing at 3:45. There was no other flight before that. It was a bigger plane, taking 30 minutes to reach, whereas other planes take at least 40 minutes. Meaning, I would reach Dhaka airport by 4:15! I bought the ticket right then. There was great hope in my heart—if this one leaves on time, there’s nothing more to worry about. I went to the airport restroom and quickly put on my tie. I adjusted my shirt once more. Looking in the mirror, I fixed my hair with my hand. The clock hand crossed 4 after passing 3:45. The plane was delayed due to fog. We all boarded the plane at 4:15. It was my first time on a plane. I kept thinking, when will it take off, when will it take off! Every second felt like an hour! The tension was making it hard to breathe, yet the plane wouldn’t take off. I thought, oh! If only I could spend all my strength to make this plane soar into the sky! I pressed my handkerchief over my eyes to hide my tears. Finally, the plane took off. It was 4:37 on the clock. I was thinking, oh!

The plane could have taken off directly without taxiing! At least a couple of minutes would have been saved! The plane landed on Dhaka’s runway at 5:13.

I burst out of the domestic terminal running with all my might, and gasping for breath, I saw a motorcycle come to a stop right in front of me. “You’re Sushanta, right? Get on the back!” I extended my hand to shake hands with the young man in the black helmet. He didn’t raise his black-gloved right fist for a handshake. “Time’s wasting, brother! Please get on! Quick!” I didn’t argue further. “You’re not used to riding bikes, are you?” “Yes. How did you know?” “Brother, I’ve been riding bikes for the past 18-20 years. I can tell.” “I see.” “Lean forward and press your chest firmly against my back! You can even wrap your arms around me, otherwise you’ll get thrown off. For sure! I’m going to ride fast.” The way that bike tore out of the airport—I don’t have the courage to even think about it today. Under normal circumstances, I might have screamed in fear and told him to stop, or I really would have been thrown off. But at that moment I knew that being afraid was important, but far more important was reaching IBA alive. I don’t know if the wheels of that 150cc bike actually touched the ground that day, but for the second time in my life I understood this truth: you cannot frighten someone who stakes their life to touch their dreams. I had only seen bikes racing so recklessly on the roads in movies. The bike was literally cutting through the whooshing sound of wind, as if flying through the air! “Say brother, are you somebody really important?” “What do you mean?” “Well, Madam told me that one of her very important friends had to be delivered from the airport to IBA within half an hour, no matter what. That was her order! Who are you, brother? Hahahaha………” “I’m Madam’s Facebook friend.” “What are you saying, man? How’s that possible! I was thinking even more… you mean you’ve never even met her?” “No, brother. Why?” (There’s a railway crossing ahead. The barrier is coming down.) “Brother, duck your head a little.” Saying this, he quickly rode the bike under the barrier without obeying the signal. Many people behind us were shouting for us to stop. “Brother, just don’t be afraid. Nothing will happen. You can close your eyes if you want.” Right at that moment, while quickly emerging from between two trucks standing side by side, he said, “Sit a bit smaller, brother!” A little further ahead—massive traffic jam at a signal! Romel bhai lifted the bike onto the sidewalk. “Brother, please give way a little, give way a little,” he kept saying as he raced forward. He had to do this several times. Sometimes when riding on the central divider in the middle of the road, traffic police would catch us, and he’d say in a tearful voice, “Sir, my aunt is fighting for her life in the medical college. I’m going to donate blood. O-negative blood—we can’t find any. If I don’t reach on time, we won’t be able to save my aunt, sir!” He’d manage the police with this story and then race off at the same speed again! Whenever there was a traffic jam on the road, he’d immediately change to another road. That day I learned that when obstacles appear on the road, it doesn’t mean there is no road. Rather, it means you have to take a different road! Right now!! I had only seen such daredevil biking in Hollywood action movies. Looking at my hair in the bike’s mirror, it seemed as if it had stood up straight after an electric shock! My face was covered with dust from the city. In the fierce wind, my tie was flying behind me in the air. I don’t know if anyone has ever seen a bike race so recklessly through Dhaka’s roads during rush hour. But for some reason, I truly wasn’t afraid at all. I kept thinking over and over, “How quickly can one reach IBA!” Romel bhai had finished his honors and master’s from Dhaka College before joining the bank. I had asked him, “What’s your designation at the bank?” He had joked, “Not much, just 14 more promotions and I’ll be able to sit in Zohra Madam’s chair. Hahaha…….”

When I arrived in front of IBA, my watch showed 5:52. As I got down, I saw my younger brother Pappu and his friend Arefin standing there. At that time, I had my gift shop ‘Dobhana.’ Pappu and Arefin were my working partners. They often came to Dhaka from Chawk Bazaar in Old Dhaka to buy wholesale goods for the shop. I had withdrawn myself from the shop to focus on my BCS exam preparation. They ran everything. They were already in Dhaka on shop business. I had told them to go to the IBA MBA program office and keep me updated by phone about the viva board situation. Through repeated conversations with them, I was checking whether the interview board was still there, asking them to go to the program office and explain that I couldn’t arrive on time due to flight delays, terrible traffic jams, and so on. As soon as I got down, they informed me, “Bhaiya, the board left 4-5 minutes ago. Now only the Executive MBA viva remains.” After introducing them to Romel bhai, I rushed up to the MBA program office on the second floor. As soon as they saw me, everyone there stopped their work and looked at me. I saw Rahi Sir busy with something; he didn’t respond to my greeting. “Sir, I’m very late. Despite trying hard, I couldn’t arrive on time. I…” Without giving me a chance to say anything more, he shouted, “You Idiot! Get out!” “Sir, I…” “I said, Get out! Out! Out!! I knew very well that you wouldn’t be able to come on time. Is it possible to take one exam in Chittagong and then come to Dhaka for another exam? That easy? You’ve just wasted my time! I had told everyone that a boy from Chittagong would come at 5:15, and we needed to take his viva. Did you think I am a joker?” “Sir, I came here with great difficulty. The flight was delayed, there was heavy traffic on the road. I really…” “It’s none of my business! Get out! Go back where you came from.” “Sir, I had many dreams of studying at IBA.” “Everyone on the street has such dreams. I gave you a chance but you missed it. That’s all! Get out of here.” “Sir, please have some mercy…” (I felt like falling at his feet and crying…) Right beside him sat a gentle-looking gentleman much younger than the sir. He said, “Sir, I’ve heard about him. His younger brother kept coming to our program office. They had been standing in front of the office for hours. His flight was indeed delayed. And there’s heavy traffic in Dhaka today too. A friend of mine came to my room from the airport a while ago; it took him a long time to get here too. Give him a chance, Sir. He’s come so far, taking such risks with great difficulty! He apparently has another written exam tomorrow too. The poor fellow has to return to Chittagong today itself.” “Son, you junior faculty members don’t even know what you’re saying, what kind of requests you make. Why are you pleading for him? Is he your relative or something?” “No no Sir, I’m seeing him for the first time today. Just look at his face once, Sir. He’s really come here with great difficulty. Please do him a favor, Sir.” “You have no idea what you are talking about! Will the Executive MBA viva be the same as theirs? They have 3 years of job experience, while these are just children in comparison!

“This won’t be possible, brother. I am sorry!” “Sir, please help the poor fellow a bit. He’s come such a long way with so much hope!” “Son, we can’t manage anything more for you!” I stood a little distance away, head bowed. Looking at me, he called out loudly, “Hey, stupid! Why are you standing there like a donkey? Go on, go to the third floor! Go and stand there absolutely quietly. We’ll call you.” I truly couldn’t understand whether such a beautiful moment had ever come anywhere in this world before! Tears began streaming down my face. I prayed again and again from my heart for Babu sir. Rahi sir seemed like a father figure to me. I kept remembering mother’s words: “Never get angry at teachers’ scolding. When teachers scold, it means blessings.” Overwhelmed with emotion, as I was about to leave after thanking and saluting the teachers, Rahi sir called from behind, “Hey crazy boy! Comb your hair before entering the board! Wash your face at the basin! Don’t be so scared! Hahaha…” I couldn’t say anything more. I kept staring blankly at sir’s face. My cheeks were wet with tears from both eyes. Babu sir placed his hand on my shoulder and said, “Go on, go upstairs and wait. We are not that much bad people as you thought us to be. Sometimes even the IBA faculties are too good! Freshen up, give your interview properly, now there’s no tension anymore. What’s your exam tomorrow?” “Sir, Mathematical Reasoning and Mental Ability.” “How will you go?” “Sir, I have a return plane ticket.” “Good! Brother, splash some water on your eyes and face to fix your appearance. Give your viva quickly and rush to the airport! Good luck!” At that moment I felt like touching sir’s feet in salute. People get frightened by sudden intense love. For the first time, it suddenly struck me: “What if I can’t honor this love of my teachers? What if I don’t get a chance at IBA in the end?”

When we find ourselves in trouble, if our intentions are pure, a way out always emerges! I went to the washroom on the third floor and tried my best to “make myself presentable” by wetting my hair and smoothing it down. After splashing water on my face, I went and waited in front of the notice board. I was called after 10 minutes. It was nearly seven o’clock. When I entered the room, I saw many faculty members seated there. I hadn’t known that so many would be present for an interview. I thought this was perhaps how IBA interviews were conducted. I later learned that this entire panel had been assembled just for me. Apart from Babu Sir and Rahi Sir, I didn’t recognize anyone else. After getting admitted, I realized that those present that evening were IBA’s most senior and accomplished faculty members. The board included Saiful Majid Sir, Shama-e-Zahir Sir, Mamun Sir, Munir Khosru Sir, Niaz Sir, and Saif Noman Khan Sir. Most of the junior faculty had finished their interviews and gone home, while some senior faculty were in their offices conducting Executive MBA interviews. Some of them had been specially called in. I was in the interview for about 18-20 minutes. Many of the faculty members knew about my situation that day. I had heard of something called “divine possession” in life. At certain special moments, due to particular external influences or circumstances, people suddenly gain extraordinary power. In those moments, they step outside their normal state and display different behavior. They can harness the utmost potential of their inner infinite strength. In that wondrous balanced fusion of emotion and capability, the best version of themselves emerges. From the moment I entered the interview room, I had very likely become a different person, or perhaps the very best ‘me’ from within had emerged that day. By what divine signal this happened, I don’t know. No hesitation, doubt, nervousness, fear, the day’s exhaustion, or lethargy was affecting me at all. I felt incredibly composed and light as a feather. It felt as though whatever I was saying or doing was the best possible. I was experiencing the finest moment of my life right then and there. I can say with complete honesty that the style in which I spoke English that day—I have never in my entire life, even to this day, been able to speak English so flawlessly and fluently. That day the faculty members engaged in various kinds of humor during the interview. They were having great fun with me. Most likely, the faculty wanted to “shake me up” somehow. I don’t know why, by whose indication I don’t know, but I kept answering all their questions one by one with a very cool head and a smile that day. They interviewed me in English on various diverse topics, starting from describing the entire day’s events and the preceding Facebook incidents to many other subjects. (Of course, at IBA there’s absolutely no opportunity to give interviews in Bengali.) Why I wanted to pursue an MBA, why IBA if I was going to take government job exams anyway, my weaknesses, whether I’d ever been in love, how I spend my leisure time, some conversation about reading books, various economic issues of Bangladesh, some personal and family matters, my future plans, the breathless motorcycle journey from A to Z, the BCS examination system, why I went into engineering despite having no interest, why I delayed my honors degree, why I didn’t study properly, why my CGPA was so low, what I like to eat, what kind of personality I prefer in people, what I know about IBA, some current affairs, and several other questions. I was answering very quickly in correct English. The faculty praised this too. I gave a very simple, straightforward, and candid interview. I didn’t speak a single false word that day.

I didn’t need to think before speaking—whatever came to mind, I simply said, so there was no chance to fabricate lies. At the end, they asked me to sing a song. When I said, “I can’t, Sir,” Babu Sir showed me my info-form and laughed, saying, “But you’ve claimed so.” I had written Reading, Writing, Singing in the hobbies section… At that moment, it felt like I was living the best day of my life. I sang, “Aaj ei dintake…” “I see, we’re getting a singer for our cultural program!” As Saiful Majid Sir was saying this, Babu Sir interjected, “Sir, he has another exam tomorrow. He’ll probably be flying back to Chittagong tonight.” Then three or four teachers exclaimed in unison, “What! He’s going back to Chittagong right now? Well then, run along, run along! Go downstairs and see if your superman biker is there! Hahahaha…” As I was leaving with my salaam, the teachers called out, “Best of luck for your tomorrow’s exam.” I kept thinking, again and again—I’ll make it, I’ll make it! (Even after giving the BCS viva, I didn’t feel this good.)

When I stepped out of IBA, it was half past seven on the clock. I knew there was no way I could catch the 7:45 flight. I also knew that I had no idea how I would get to Chittagong that night. I didn’t even feel like thinking about it. Only the exhilarating rush of having given a good exam was coursing through me. Pappu and Arefin had been waiting for me at Madhu’s canteen. Taking them along, I went to the front of Dhaka University’s Central Library and leisurely began eating vegetable pakoras and tea. Many of my students studied in various departments at Dhaka University. Quite a few came to see me. They were asking what questions had been asked in the interview. After a day of incredible experiences, my head had become almost entirely empty. I couldn’t understand why I wasn’t feeling the slightest urgency to return to Chittagong. Pappu asked, “Brother, will you take the night bus?” I said, “Yes, that could work.” (It amuses me now to think how casually I had said ‘that could work’!) The road conditions weren’t good then either, there were always traffic jams. It didn’t even occur to me—what would happen if I couldn’t reach by 10 AM tomorrow? Ripon, a dear younger brother who lived in Chittagong and was one of my former students, said, “Brother, I have a non-AC train ticket; for Turna Nishitha, leaving tonight. It doesn’t matter if I don’t go to Chittagong today. Brother, you take it.” “Alright, fine,” I said, took the ticket, and set off toward Kamalapur Station. That night the train left nearly an hour and a half late. I didn’t even want to think about what was going to happen! I had already surrendered myself to fate long before. In my mind I kept repeating only this: whatever will be, will be. Whether I want it or not, it will happen. And whatever is happening is surely for the good; whatever will happen will surely be for the good too. Let’s see! After the day’s exhaustion, I had a very peaceful sleep. Suddenly I woke up hearing commotion around me. The train had stopped at Comilla. Apparently there was some problem with the line. We were delayed there for nearly two and a quarter hours. I couldn’t understand why I wasn’t feeling any kind of anxiety! I fell asleep again. Sleep is the world’s only faithful lover. Whenever I want it, I find it near. Never, under any circumstances, does it abandon me. There can be no purer love than the love for sleep.

When the train reached Chittagong railway station the next day, it was a quarter to ten in the morning. My exam was scheduled to start at ten. It takes only fifteen minutes to get from the station to my house. When I got home, I found my mother sitting there with everything ready in her hands—my pencil box, board, scale, pen, calculator, admit card, registration card, all of it. My parents had been terribly anxious at home. I hadn’t been able to speak to them since after half past one at night. My mobile had run out of charge. (I was using a cheap Nokia 1100 mobile set back then. Everyone called it the “national set”! It was so sturdy that many would joke, “Dude, you could crack jackfruit with that phone!” I’d tease my friends who used expensive mobiles, saying, “My phone’s model is ‘N Eleven Zero Zero’!”) As soon as my mother saw me, she said, “Dear, how are you? Will you take today’s exam?” I felt emotionally numb. It seemed as though I was lighter than a feather at that moment, floating around in some kind of trance! I smiled and said, “Ma, I’m perfectly fine. I’ll take the exam.” Saying this, I took the packed shopping bag from my mother’s hands and left the house just as I was. It was 10:05 on the clock. From our house to the exam center, it takes at least thirty minutes by CNG during office hours. When I reached the college gate, it was 10:43. That day was the mathematical reasoning and mental ability test. The first two hours were mathematical reasoning, followed by one hour of mental ability. The exam had already started forty-three minutes earlier. Naturally, the police wouldn’t let me enter. I pleaded extensively, kept trying futilely to explain what had happened, but they weren’t willing to listen to anything. But I had made up my mind—I wasn’t going to turn back, I would get inside no matter what. A small commotion started gathering there. Seeing the crowd, the magistrate came over. After hearing my entire story, he said, “You only have one hour left. Can you finish all the math problems in this time?” Without a moment’s hesitation, I said, “I can, sir!” “Alright, go ahead. Good luck!” My heart overflowed with gratitude toward him. At that moment, he seemed to me not human, but divine! I went in, looked at the questions, took the exam. I even showed three problems to the person sitting next to me. (He got a job in Audit and Accounts in the 30th batch.) I scored 98 on that day’s exam—50 in math, 48 in mental ability. After that… well, as everyone says—the rest is history!

But this much is true: had that day’s exam been something other than mathematics, I would have been in real trouble. I can handle math because the type of problems that appeared in the BCS written exam back then weren’t particularly difficult for me to solve. Such problems don’t strain the mind much, and the 30th BCS written exam featured relatively easy math. Even if I worked through each step carefully and added side notes, it shouldn’t have taken more than half an hour. It didn’t for me either. However, spending two and a half hours on the International Affairs exam the day before had been risky. Actually, no matter how incredible the whole affair might seem, everything appears to have been predetermined by the Creator or nature itself. What remains inexplicable to our limited understanding is simply a natural, ordinary occurrence for the Creator. All our failures and successes are already decided beforehand. But to reach that point, the effort—or making the right decision at the right time—that we must do ourselves. I wasn’t even supposed to pass my undergraduate degree. Yet it was my destiny to complete my undergraduate studies, become a BCS cadre, study at IBA—all of it was written in my fate. Had my destiny been bound elsewhere, I would have gone there instead. I had enrolled in another master’s program under Dhaka University—MDS. After continuing that course for three months, I left it of my own accord. They had said I would need to officially hide the fact that I was simultaneously pursuing another master’s at IBA. I refused to lie. I harbor no regret about this, though. I’ve accepted that pursuing that particular master’s degree simply wasn’t written in my destiny. This is the truth, this is reality. I had gained admission to Dhaka University’s Evening MBA program in Finance, ranking sixth on the merit list, but never had to attend classes there. I received my IBA admission test results before that. I did complete my master’s in Finance from Dhaka University, but the Evening MBA program wasn’t destined for me, so I didn’t pursue my master’s degree from there.

Stepping into two boats in the middle of a river ensures certain death. Logic dictates this. But I placed my feet in two boats, taking the maximum risk—I had no other choice—yet both boats moved forward in parallel at the same speed at the same time, so I didn’t slip between them and lose my life. What explanation could there be for this? Life doesn’t follow logic; life follows the Creator’s signals. Life doesn’t always operate according to explanations. Sometimes life moves on faith. So there’s nothing to say about anyone’s personal philosophy and the life they live according to their beliefs, as long as that life doesn’t interfere with someone else’s way of living. Somewhere, no explicable form of life can be seen, and life is just like this!

Through sheer mental strength alone, I had believed that some miracle would surely occur. It did happen, because in Providence’s master plan, that’s what was meant to happen. Everything in between was the Creator’s games or plans to test my patience and concentration. You will never be given a gift you don’t deserve. You will be tested, and if you fail to pass that test, you will deprive yourself of the Creator’s grace through your own fault. I’m sharing with you the Facebook status I posted after the IBA admission test results came out, along with a couple of my own comments on it:

Friends, I’ve been finally selected for admission into the MBA Program of IBA, Dhaka University. …… feeling happy. ……. HATS OFF to Sharmeen didi, Ira madam & Romel bhai!!

# My dear friends….. Your gorgeous presence on my wall makes me think twice about the POWER of friendship & the MAGIC of love. YES……… They matter!! I just want to be with you forever. Please never say GOODBYE…. It hurts!! Your kindness and care mean a lot to me. You’ve always given me much more than I really deserve. Please accept my sincere GRATITUDE.

Happy Social Networking!!

Long live Facebook!!

My best wishes for our Friendship!!

……… Love you all ……

# (To one of my close friends) Dost, not reaching the Interview Session on 17 January at 5:30 pm was what I thought to be….. reaching there in time was what was written in my DESTINY….. And, I ended up calling it a MIRACLE, something I never believed in before…… Just have a look at the schedule of 17 January……

International Affairs Exam (BCS written exam)…. 10:00 am — 1:00 pm

The departure time of the GMG Airlines: 3:20 pm, there was a delay of about 1 hour due to fog and I availed another delayed flight of Bangladesh Biman at 4:37 pm.

The plane landed on Dhaka Airport at 5:13 pm and then I started my fight against time to meet the deadline by bike with Romel bhai!! Who managed those three saviours (Sharmeen didi, Ira madam & Romel bhai) for me? I don’t know. You better ask the Heaven! I saw such a breath-taking motor-bike driving only in English movies. Before that day, I had never thought I would experience it!!

Life is sometimes stranger than fiction . . . . Who can tell it better than I?

# (To one of my senior high-profile Indian friends) Thank you Sir for your words of felicitation. IBA of Dhaka University is considered as the most prestigious institute for doing MBA in Bangladesh. As per the rules of that Business School, the Major/Field of Specialization is allowed to be chosen at the final semester judging the academic records & intention of a candidate. I don’t have much idea about what to choose and why to choose. Please share some ideas on it as you’ve huge practical knowledge (so far as I know) about the present corporate trend.

You’ve nicely stated the trend of our careerist B-school graduates. No one really cares about their own aptitude, rather, tries to be what market wants them to be. Personally, I always like the decision-making and mainstream operational sections of giant companies. And, probably I’ll go for finance as my major when I’ve to choose it in my final semester. Yes, my semester results must be well enough to work on my advantage. That’ll be a story of one and a half years later. Till then, I’ll have to undergo the generalized curriculum as my B-school formulates. The recent economic recession worries our friends studying at the US universities. And, almost all of them suggest me not to plan of staying there. But at the same time, they suggest me completing my PhD in the US if I want to and grab that opportunity. Let’s wait and see. . . . . Are you in India now? Hope you’re quite OK along with your busy schedule. Please, sometimes give me your valuable suggestions when you’ve time and you’re here on Facebook. . . . . Thank you once again for your helpful advice. Take care.

In explaining the final part of the status shared above, I had written these words:

Let me share the Story behind the Story and elucidate the last part of my status. It would have been quite impossible for me to reach Dhaka University from Dhaka International Airport within just 50 minutes (!!) to attend the interview session of IBA in time on Jan 17, but for the cordial help of Sharmeen didi (Sharmeen Muiz) & Ira madam (Johora Bebe Ira). They’re the persons who made that miracle happen!! And, Romel bhai (Monirul Alam Romel) is the “Man with the Bike” who dared fight against time to meet the deadline!! ……. I feel honoured to express my heartfelt gratitude to these three saviours. …….. Miracles Happen When You Believe!!

I conclude this piece with a beautifully strange comment Sharmeen didi made on that status: “My prayers, good wishes, and prayers remain with you. Dear brother of mine, may you grow to great heights. And may the successful reflection of our efforts (Ira’s and mine) shine through in everything you do. I was there, I am here, I will be there. …….. Heaps of hugs and love.”

What sustains a human being? We live on love, on prayers, on good wishes. These are what keep me alive—quite well alive, in fact. My gratitude!

P.S. Let me offer you some practical wisdom. Those who think they know too much, who consider themselves supremely intelligent, who speak in grand terms without any real qualifications or notable position, who try to diminish others even through outright lies, who pontificate without knowledge, who speak to you in such a manner that you begin to doubt your own confidence—I would advise you to absolutely, absolutely, and absolutely avoid such people. They themselves cannot go very far in life, nor will they allow you to go very far either.

(Written 2-3 years ago)

I had never been on a plane before. I thought that wherever you go, you need a passport to fly. My elder brother called a friend who works with passport services and asked what documents are needed for an emergency passport to Dhaka. He burst out laughing! He said, “Buddy, what do you need a passport for? A plane and a bus are the same thing. One flies in the sky, the other runs on the road. That’s all there is to it! Just go buy a ticket. That’s it! Which one is good? You can go with GMG. That’s pretty good.” I didn’t know that you don’t have to rush to the airport to buy a plane ticket. I had no idea how much tickets cost. Getting off the bus in the morning, I went straight to a Dutch-Bangla Bank booth and withdrew ten thousand taka. Then I jumped into a CNG and rushed to the airport. I bought a ticket from the GMG Airlines counter for the 3:20 flight on Monday, the 17th. That was the first Chittagong-Dhaka flight of the afternoon. I booked a return ticket for the same day on the 7:45 evening flight. I felt like I could see it right before my eyes—me attending classes at IBA! Such a strange vision! I returned home with a victorious smile, almost as if I had already gotten into IBA! At night, I tried to prepare from various guides and the internet about what they might ask in the IBA interview. I studied for about 4-5 hours. At the same time, I posted a status on Facebook: How much time does it take to reach Dhaka University from Dhaka International Airport? Is it possible to reach in 40 minutes? Friends, any suggestion, please? I was truly a very simple person back then. I saw the world in very simple terms. Since I hadn’t visited Dhaka much, I didn’t know that in 2011 it wasn’t possible to get from the airport to Shahbag in 40 minutes. Everyone was saying it would take a minimum of two hours to get from the airport to the university campus in the afternoon. All sorts of bizarre comments came in reply to my status. Many started making fun of me. I’ll share some of my friends’ suggestions: “It’s possible if you run.” “It would be great if you jogged to the university. You’d get your evening exercise too!” “You shouldn’t have bought that plane ticket! With that money, if you had thrown us a party, we all would have prayed together and your BCS would have worked out! Hahahaha…..” “Young man! You’re young, just run as soon as you get off the plane! You’ll see, you’ll reach before time!” “Listen, such-and-such bus runs on such-and-such route. Hanging and sleeping, you’ll reach IBA just fine!” I got many such absurd comments. I knew absolutely nothing about Dhaka then. When you’re in trouble, doesn’t everyone have to give you a kick? It began to feel like that’s just how life is! People can’t extend a hand to pull you up, but they can certainly extend a foot to kick you down! Without getting the least bit discouraged by anyone’s words, I kept waiting to see if someone would give some good advice. I didn’t react to anyone’s reply that day. How helplessly calm a person becomes when in trouble. All I knew was this: “I’m giving my IBA interview on the 17th.” One person wrote, “You can go by bike. There’s no faster way to reach the university campus.” Some people even supported that idea. A few mentioned taxi cabs. Support was strongest for the bike option. Up until then, I had ridden a bike maybe 2-3 times in my entire life, counting generously. I didn’t really know anyone in Dhaka who had a bike, or if I did know someone, my mind wasn’t working at all then. Sometimes I think now, alas!

I couldn’t even afford to manage a bike at that time. I wrote, “My flight is scheduled to land at Dhaka Airport at 4.10 pm on 17 January. I must reach Dhaka University at or before 5.15 pm. I’ve an interview at IBA at that time. . . . Can’t I do it? Is it not possible? I need to do it at any cost. As I don’t know about the routes of Dhaka City, I’m asking for your help. Dhaka City is an unknown city to me. Can a taxi cab help me reach there in 1 hour? I can’t be late, otherwise I’ll miss the interview schedule. I’ve managed that schedule today through an application. . . Can a bike be a better solution? Or, something else? I’m in great trouble. . . .” After posting this, the mocking and laughter began all over again. I replied to the distinguished gentleman (one of Bangladesh’s most successful businessmen) who had advised me to jog there: “Thank you Sir for you ‘jogging’ suggestion. I was also seriously thinking of this option. Yes, I’ll surely manage to reach in time by vehicles, on foot, again by vehicles, again on foot . . . . And, I’ll go. I’ll be there in time by any means.” Someone said, “Change the schedule once more.” I wrote, “The schedule can’t be changed! Hopefully, there will happen some miracle and I’ll manage to avail the schedule in time.” A younger brother wrote, “Brother, you should go by taxi-cab. But you could try the bus once. Dhaka buses run quite well!” I replied, “Brother, I’m not surely making any attempt of getting on a bus! That’ll be horrible, you know. I was just seeking for a suggestion as I don’t know about the route. Thanks for the suggestion. I think a CNG powered taxi can help me in this regard. A taxi-cab is prone to getting stuck up in the congestion forever. A bike could be a better solution. But, I can’t manage it.”

Mrs. Zohra, whose name was Ira—an extremely distinguished lady—commented, “You need a bike?” “That would be wonderful.” “Alright, let me see what I can do.” She was the Deputy Managing Director of ONE Bank. After completing her studies in Chemistry from Chittagong University, she had done her MBA from IBA. She worked in the corporate sector, but there were very few people who didn’t know her. I have a sister. Her name is Sharmin Muiz Khan. At that time, she was one of those rare souls who loved someone as insignificant as me far more than necessary, showered me with affection for no particular reason. She was almost my mother’s age, but I addressed her as ‘tumi’ and she called me ‘tui’. She had studied English Literature at Dhaka University. She particularly loved my writing. She was a business magnate and had connections with many prominent people. I have rarely seen a lady as distinguished, refined, elegant, and utterly graceful as her. She commented, “Bappi, someone needs to grab you and give you a good thrashing. Are you enjoying confusing everyone by calling them all the time? Please stop wasting your time browsing Facebook and concentrate on tomorrow’s exam. Otherwise, you’re calling for another disaster. There is a saying: ‘Que sera, sera’ meaning: Whatever will be, will be. So, pray and try your best. I have given this opinion after a lot of serious thoughts. Please follow it. You will leave here right now. I don’t want to see you making even one more comment! MIRACLES HAPPEN IF YOU BELIEVE IN YOURSELF!” I replied, “Didi, things are that they’re. Things will be that they will be. And, between this two there lie some miracles that we’re never aware of. And, miracles are often stranger than facts. Facts are because they’re. Miracles are because we or someone else wants them to be. That’s the truth!” She called Mrs. Zohra. She said, “Look Ira, my brother has gotten into a bit of trouble. The poor thing is a simple soul, we should do something for him. Can’t you arrange a bike for him?” A little while later, I saw a message from Mrs. Zohra in my inbox: “Please give me your contact number. Regards” I gave it immediately. The call came within seconds. After introducing herself, she said, “You need a bike Monday at 4 PM, right?” “That would be wonderful.” “OK, a bike will be there for you at 4. My colleague Romel will pick you. Alright?” “I am truly, truly grateful. Thank you so very much!” “Let’s get the work done first, then you can thank me. I’m texting you Romel’s number. Take care.” She hung up immediately. I wrote to her: “Life is stranger than fiction, I repeat. From myself, I’ve got much less than I truly deserve. From others, I’ve got much more than I truly deserve. Is it the thing that they call miracle? I don’t know and never try to know. I let miracles happen and thankfully they always happen . . . . . . . Thank you for your generous approach. This really means a lot to me.” I wrote my piece. I don’t know if she ever read it or had the time to read it. Noble souls don’t wait for thanks. Besides, she was truly, truly busy.

He was the head of the credit section at One Bank. He had no reason to know a nobody like me, yet he knew me through my writing. Otherwise, I would never have had the privilege of speaking with him directly. And the fact that Sharmin didi had spoken to him about me—that was a big deal too. The next day was the Bangladesh Affairs Paper 2 exam. I went to sleep without studying any of it. The day after, straight from the exam hall, I went to the Westex showroom at Probortak intersection. My life’s first interview. I was incredibly excited! I had decided I’d go to the interview board wearing everything brand new. I bought a formal white shirt, black pants, black tie, black belt, black socks, white undershirt, and brown shoes. Later, from Gallery Apex I bought formal Oxford shoes, and from Time Zone a Titan wristwatch, then returned home in the evening. Seeing my antics, Ma was laughing. “Ma, why are you laughing?” “Just because, dear.” The funny thing was, Ma went with me to the exam hall every single day. She always kept me close, just like a child. Ma said, “Tomorrow I’m going to the airport with you.” And she did go—despite my protests.

Monday, the 17th. International Affairs exam. I couldn’t stay in the exam hall for the entire time due to nerves. I don’t have a car, what if the CNG takes too long to reach the airport! What if I miss the flight! The flight was at 3:20. And it takes at least 2 hours to reach the airport from Omar Gani MES College by 1 PM. Our written exam had been during winter. In the bitter cold, my fingers would freeze. Still, I kept rubbing my palms together to warm them, blowing hot breath into the hollow of my cupped hands, and wrote with all my strength. Instead of 1 o’clock, I finished the exam at 12:30, submitted my paper, and rushed out. When I emerged from the hall and reached the gate, everyone thought I must have been expelled! The intense stress was clearly written all over my face. Many showed me sympathy, told me not to worry, advised me to do better in the next BCS. I didn’t have time to respond. What could I say anyway—at that moment, life itself was one giant question mark for me! I don’t know what strength possessed my mother. She ran almost twice as fast as me, covering the distance from the college campus to the road. We got into a CNG without bargaining, paying nearly one and a half times the normal fare. I told the driver, “However you manage it, get us to the airport within two hours. If necessary, I’ll pay you extra.” It was 12:50 on the clock. The CNG started speeding. Mother opened the tiffin box and fed me khichuri, meat, and fried egg. One thought kept spinning in my head: “Will I catch the plane? If we get stuck in traffic, it’s all over!” I took off my sweater. I had left home that morning wearing my viva outfit, everything except the tie. After escaping two minor traffic jams, when we reached the airport, it was 5 minutes to 3. As soon as I got down, I touched my mother’s and aunt’s feet in respect (a distant aunt had come with us since mother couldn’t return home from the airport alone) and ran to the counter. There I learned that the flight was delayed by an hour due to dense fog. I thought, if the plane leaves at that time, there’s no way I can reach IBA by 5:15. I informed the counter staff about this. They said there was nothing they could do; they were very sorry. I inquired and learned that no other flights were departing at that time either. At that moment, I felt utterly helpless, just wanting to cry. I felt like I had no one, no one at all! I kept going from counter to counter. I found out there was a Bangladesh Biman flight departing at 3:45. There was no other flight before that. It was a bigger plane, taking 30 minutes to reach, whereas other planes take at least 40 minutes. Meaning, I would reach Dhaka airport by 4:15! I bought the ticket right then. There was great hope in my heart—if this one leaves on time, there’s nothing more to worry about. I went to the airport restroom and quickly put on my tie. I adjusted my shirt once more. Looking in the mirror, I fixed my hair with my hand. The clock hand crossed 4 after passing 3:45. The plane was delayed due to fog. We all boarded the plane at 4:15. It was my first time on a plane. I kept thinking, when will it take off, when will it take off! Every second felt like an hour! The tension was making it hard to breathe, yet the plane wouldn’t take off. I thought, oh! If only I could spend all my strength to make this plane soar into the sky! I pressed my handkerchief over my eyes to hide my tears. Finally, the plane took off. It was 4:37 on the clock. I was thinking, oh!

The plane could have taken off directly without taxiing! At least a couple of minutes would have been saved! The plane landed on Dhaka’s runway at 5:13.

I burst out of the domestic terminal running with all my might, and gasping for breath, I saw a motorcycle come to a stop right in front of me. “You’re Sushanta, right? Get on the back!” I extended my hand to shake hands with the young man in the black helmet. He didn’t raise his black-gloved right fist for a handshake. “Time’s wasting, brother! Please get on! Quick!” I didn’t argue further. “You’re not used to riding bikes, are you?” “Yes. How did you know?” “Brother, I’ve been riding bikes for the past 18-20 years. I can tell.” “I see.” “Lean forward and press your chest firmly against my back! You can even wrap your arms around me, otherwise you’ll get thrown off. For sure! I’m going to ride fast.” The way that bike tore out of the airport—I don’t have the courage to even think about it today. Under normal circumstances, I might have screamed in fear and told him to stop, or I really would have been thrown off. But at that moment I knew that being afraid was important, but far more important was reaching IBA alive. I don’t know if the wheels of that 150cc bike actually touched the ground that day, but for the second time in my life I understood this truth: you cannot frighten someone who stakes their life to touch their dreams. I had only seen bikes racing so recklessly on the roads in movies. The bike was literally cutting through the whooshing sound of wind, as if flying through the air! “Say brother, are you somebody really important?” “What do you mean?” “Well, Madam told me that one of her very important friends had to be delivered from the airport to IBA within half an hour, no matter what. That was her order! Who are you, brother? Hahahaha………” “I’m Madam’s Facebook friend.” “What are you saying, man? How’s that possible! I was thinking even more… you mean you’ve never even met her?” “No, brother. Why?” (There’s a railway crossing ahead. The barrier is coming down.) “Brother, duck your head a little.” Saying this, he quickly rode the bike under the barrier without obeying the signal. Many people behind us were shouting for us to stop. “Brother, just don’t be afraid. Nothing will happen. You can close your eyes if you want.” Right at that moment, while quickly emerging from between two trucks standing side by side, he said, “Sit a bit smaller, brother!” A little further ahead—massive traffic jam at a signal! Romel bhai lifted the bike onto the sidewalk. “Brother, please give way a little, give way a little,” he kept saying as he raced forward. He had to do this several times. Sometimes when riding on the central divider in the middle of the road, traffic police would catch us, and he’d say in a tearful voice, “Sir, my aunt is fighting for her life in the medical college. I’m going to donate blood. O-negative blood—we can’t find any. If I don’t reach on time, we won’t be able to save my aunt, sir!” He’d manage the police with this story and then race off at the same speed again! Whenever there was a traffic jam on the road, he’d immediately change to another road. That day I learned that when obstacles appear on the road, it doesn’t mean there is no road. Rather, it means you have to take a different road! Right now!! I had only seen such daredevil biking in Hollywood action movies. Looking at my hair in the bike’s mirror, it seemed as if it had stood up straight after an electric shock! My face was covered with dust from the city. In the fierce wind, my tie was flying behind me in the air. I don’t know if anyone has ever seen a bike race so recklessly through Dhaka’s roads during rush hour. But for some reason, I truly wasn’t afraid at all. I kept thinking over and over, “How quickly can one reach IBA!” Romel bhai had finished his honors and master’s from Dhaka College before joining the bank. I had asked him, “What’s your designation at the bank?” He had joked, “Not much, just 14 more promotions and I’ll be able to sit in Zohra Madam’s chair. Hahaha…….”

When I arrived in front of IBA, my watch showed 5:52. As I got down, I saw my younger brother Pappu and his friend Arefin standing there. At that time, I had my gift shop ‘Dobhana.’ Pappu and Arefin were my working partners. They often came to Dhaka from Chawk Bazaar in Old Dhaka to buy wholesale goods for the shop. I had withdrawn myself from the shop to focus on my BCS exam preparation. They ran everything. They were already in Dhaka on shop business. I had told them to go to the IBA MBA program office and keep me updated by phone about the viva board situation. Through repeated conversations with them, I was checking whether the interview board was still there, asking them to go to the program office and explain that I couldn’t arrive on time due to flight delays, terrible traffic jams, and so on. As soon as I got down, they informed me, “Bhaiya, the board left 4-5 minutes ago. Now only the Executive MBA viva remains.” After introducing them to Romel bhai, I rushed up to the MBA program office on the second floor. As soon as they saw me, everyone there stopped their work and looked at me. I saw Rahi Sir busy with something; he didn’t respond to my greeting. “Sir, I’m very late. Despite trying hard, I couldn’t arrive on time. I…” Without giving me a chance to say anything more, he shouted, “You Idiot! Get out!” “Sir, I…” “I said, Get out! Out! Out!! I knew very well that you wouldn’t be able to come on time. Is it possible to take one exam in Chittagong and then come to Dhaka for another exam? That easy? You’ve just wasted my time! I had told everyone that a boy from Chittagong would come at 5:15, and we needed to take his viva. Did you think I am a joker?” “Sir, I came here with great difficulty. The flight was delayed, there was heavy traffic on the road. I really…” “It’s none of my business! Get out! Go back where you came from.” “Sir, I had many dreams of studying at IBA.” “Everyone on the street has such dreams. I gave you a chance but you missed it. That’s all! Get out of here.” “Sir, please have some mercy…” (I felt like falling at his feet and crying…) Right beside him sat a gentle-looking gentleman much younger than the sir. He said, “Sir, I’ve heard about him. His younger brother kept coming to our program office. They had been standing in front of the office for hours. His flight was indeed delayed. And there’s heavy traffic in Dhaka today too. A friend of mine came to my room from the airport a while ago; it took him a long time to get here too. Give him a chance, Sir. He’s come so far, taking such risks with great difficulty! He apparently has another written exam tomorrow too. The poor fellow has to return to Chittagong today itself.” “Son, you junior faculty members don’t even know what you’re saying, what kind of requests you make. Why are you pleading for him? Is he your relative or something?” “No no Sir, I’m seeing him for the first time today. Just look at his face once, Sir. He’s really come here with great difficulty. Please do him a favor, Sir.” “You have no idea what you are talking about! Will the Executive MBA viva be the same as theirs? They have 3 years of job experience, while these are just children in comparison!

“This won’t be possible, brother. I am sorry!” “Sir, please help the poor fellow a bit. He’s come such a long way with so much hope!” “Son, we can’t manage anything more for you!” I stood a little distance away, head bowed. Looking at me, he called out loudly, “Hey, stupid! Why are you standing there like a donkey? Go on, go to the third floor! Go and stand there absolutely quietly. We’ll call you.” I truly couldn’t understand whether such a beautiful moment had ever come anywhere in this world before! Tears began streaming down my face. I prayed again and again from my heart for Babu sir. Rahi sir seemed like a father figure to me. I kept remembering mother’s words: “Never get angry at teachers’ scolding. When teachers scold, it means blessings.” Overwhelmed with emotion, as I was about to leave after thanking and saluting the teachers, Rahi sir called from behind, “Hey crazy boy! Comb your hair before entering the board! Wash your face at the basin! Don’t be so scared! Hahaha…” I couldn’t say anything more. I kept staring blankly at sir’s face. My cheeks were wet with tears from both eyes. Babu sir placed his hand on my shoulder and said, “Go on, go upstairs and wait. We are not that much bad people as you thought us to be. Sometimes even the IBA faculties are too good! Freshen up, give your interview properly, now there’s no tension anymore. What’s your exam tomorrow?” “Sir, Mathematical Reasoning and Mental Ability.” “How will you go?” “Sir, I have a return plane ticket.” “Good! Brother, splash some water on your eyes and face to fix your appearance. Give your viva quickly and rush to the airport! Good luck!” At that moment I felt like touching sir’s feet in salute. People get frightened by sudden intense love. For the first time, it suddenly struck me: “What if I can’t honor this love of my teachers? What if I don’t get a chance at IBA in the end?”

When we find ourselves in trouble, if our intentions are pure, a way out always emerges! I went to the washroom on the third floor and tried my best to “make myself presentable” by wetting my hair and smoothing it down. After splashing water on my face, I went and waited in front of the notice board. I was called after 10 minutes. It was nearly seven o’clock. When I entered the room, I saw many faculty members seated there. I hadn’t known that so many would be present for an interview. I thought this was perhaps how IBA interviews were conducted. I later learned that this entire panel had been assembled just for me. Apart from Babu Sir and Rahi Sir, I didn’t recognize anyone else. After getting admitted, I realized that those present that evening were IBA’s most senior and accomplished faculty members. The board included Saiful Majid Sir, Shama-e-Zahir Sir, Mamun Sir, Munir Khosru Sir, Niaz Sir, and Saif Noman Khan Sir. Most of the junior faculty had finished their interviews and gone home, while some senior faculty were in their offices conducting Executive MBA interviews. Some of them had been specially called in. I was in the interview for about 18-20 minutes. Many of the faculty members knew about my situation that day. I had heard of something called “divine possession” in life. At certain special moments, due to particular external influences or circumstances, people suddenly gain extraordinary power. In those moments, they step outside their normal state and display different behavior. They can harness the utmost potential of their inner infinite strength. In that wondrous balanced fusion of emotion and capability, the best version of themselves emerges. From the moment I entered the interview room, I had very likely become a different person, or perhaps the very best ‘me’ from within had emerged that day. By what divine signal this happened, I don’t know. No hesitation, doubt, nervousness, fear, the day’s exhaustion, or lethargy was affecting me at all. I felt incredibly composed and light as a feather. It felt as though whatever I was saying or doing was the best possible. I was experiencing the finest moment of my life right then and there. I can say with complete honesty that the style in which I spoke English that day—I have never in my entire life, even to this day, been able to speak English so flawlessly and fluently. That day the faculty members engaged in various kinds of humor during the interview. They were having great fun with me. Most likely, the faculty wanted to “shake me up” somehow. I don’t know why, by whose indication I don’t know, but I kept answering all their questions one by one with a very cool head and a smile that day. They interviewed me in English on various diverse topics, starting from describing the entire day’s events and the preceding Facebook incidents to many other subjects. (Of course, at IBA there’s absolutely no opportunity to give interviews in Bengali.) Why I wanted to pursue an MBA, why IBA if I was going to take government job exams anyway, my weaknesses, whether I’d ever been in love, how I spend my leisure time, some conversation about reading books, various economic issues of Bangladesh, some personal and family matters, my future plans, the breathless motorcycle journey from A to Z, the BCS examination system, why I went into engineering despite having no interest, why I delayed my honors degree, why I didn’t study properly, why my CGPA was so low, what I like to eat, what kind of personality I prefer in people, what I know about IBA, some current affairs, and several other questions. I was answering very quickly in correct English. The faculty praised this too. I gave a very simple, straightforward, and candid interview. I didn’t speak a single false word that day.

I didn’t need to think before speaking—whatever came to mind, I simply said, so there was no chance to fabricate lies. At the end, they asked me to sing a song. When I said, “I can’t, Sir,” Babu Sir showed me my info-form and laughed, saying, “But you’ve claimed so.” I had written Reading, Writing, Singing in the hobbies section… At that moment, it felt like I was living the best day of my life. I sang, “Aaj ei dintake…” “I see, we’re getting a singer for our cultural program!” As Saiful Majid Sir was saying this, Babu Sir interjected, “Sir, he has another exam tomorrow. He’ll probably be flying back to Chittagong tonight.” Then three or four teachers exclaimed in unison, “What! He’s going back to Chittagong right now? Well then, run along, run along! Go downstairs and see if your superman biker is there! Hahahaha…” As I was leaving with my salaam, the teachers called out, “Best of luck for your tomorrow’s exam.” I kept thinking, again and again—I’ll make it, I’ll make it! (Even after giving the BCS viva, I didn’t feel this good.)

When I stepped out of IBA, it was half past seven on the clock. I knew there was no way I could catch the 7:45 flight. I also knew that I had no idea how I would get to Chittagong that night. I didn’t even feel like thinking about it. Only the exhilarating rush of having given a good exam was coursing through me. Pappu and Arefin had been waiting for me at Madhu’s canteen. Taking them along, I went to the front of Dhaka University’s Central Library and leisurely began eating vegetable pakoras and tea. Many of my students studied in various departments at Dhaka University. Quite a few came to see me. They were asking what questions had been asked in the interview. After a day of incredible experiences, my head had become almost entirely empty. I couldn’t understand why I wasn’t feeling the slightest urgency to return to Chittagong. Pappu asked, “Brother, will you take the night bus?” I said, “Yes, that could work.” (It amuses me now to think how casually I had said ‘that could work’!) The road conditions weren’t good then either, there were always traffic jams. It didn’t even occur to me—what would happen if I couldn’t reach by 10 AM tomorrow? Ripon, a dear younger brother who lived in Chittagong and was one of my former students, said, “Brother, I have a non-AC train ticket; for Turna Nishitha, leaving tonight. It doesn’t matter if I don’t go to Chittagong today. Brother, you take it.” “Alright, fine,” I said, took the ticket, and set off toward Kamalapur Station. That night the train left nearly an hour and a half late. I didn’t even want to think about what was going to happen! I had already surrendered myself to fate long before. In my mind I kept repeating only this: whatever will be, will be. Whether I want it or not, it will happen. And whatever is happening is surely for the good; whatever will happen will surely be for the good too. Let’s see! After the day’s exhaustion, I had a very peaceful sleep. Suddenly I woke up hearing commotion around me. The train had stopped at Comilla. Apparently there was some problem with the line. We were delayed there for nearly two and a quarter hours. I couldn’t understand why I wasn’t feeling any kind of anxiety! I fell asleep again. Sleep is the world’s only faithful lover. Whenever I want it, I find it near. Never, under any circumstances, does it abandon me. There can be no purer love than the love for sleep.

When the train reached Chittagong railway station the next day, it was a quarter to ten in the morning. My exam was scheduled to start at ten. It takes only fifteen minutes to get from the station to my house. When I got home, I found my mother sitting there with everything ready in her hands—my pencil box, board, scale, pen, calculator, admit card, registration card, all of it. My parents had been terribly anxious at home. I hadn’t been able to speak to them since after half past one at night. My mobile had run out of charge. (I was using a cheap Nokia 1100 mobile set back then. Everyone called it the “national set”! It was so sturdy that many would joke, “Dude, you could crack jackfruit with that phone!” I’d tease my friends who used expensive mobiles, saying, “My phone’s model is ‘N Eleven Zero Zero’!”) As soon as my mother saw me, she said, “Dear, how are you? Will you take today’s exam?” I felt emotionally numb. It seemed as though I was lighter than a feather at that moment, floating around in some kind of trance! I smiled and said, “Ma, I’m perfectly fine. I’ll take the exam.” Saying this, I took the packed shopping bag from my mother’s hands and left the house just as I was. It was 10:05 on the clock. From our house to the exam center, it takes at least thirty minutes by CNG during office hours. When I reached the college gate, it was 10:43. That day was the mathematical reasoning and mental ability test. The first two hours were mathematical reasoning, followed by one hour of mental ability. The exam had already started forty-three minutes earlier. Naturally, the police wouldn’t let me enter. I pleaded extensively, kept trying futilely to explain what had happened, but they weren’t willing to listen to anything. But I had made up my mind—I wasn’t going to turn back, I would get inside no matter what. A small commotion started gathering there. Seeing the crowd, the magistrate came over. After hearing my entire story, he said, “You only have one hour left. Can you finish all the math problems in this time?” Without a moment’s hesitation, I said, “I can, sir!” “Alright, go ahead. Good luck!” My heart overflowed with gratitude toward him. At that moment, he seemed to me not human, but divine! I went in, looked at the questions, took the exam. I even showed three problems to the person sitting next to me. (He got a job in Audit and Accounts in the 30th batch.) I scored 98 on that day’s exam—50 in math, 48 in mental ability. After that… well, as everyone says—the rest is history!

But this much is true: had that day’s exam been something other than mathematics, I would have been in real trouble. I can handle math because the type of problems that appeared in the BCS written exam back then weren’t particularly difficult for me to solve. Such problems don’t strain the mind much, and the 30th BCS written exam featured relatively easy math. Even if I worked through each step carefully and added side notes, it shouldn’t have taken more than half an hour. It didn’t for me either. However, spending two and a half hours on the International Affairs exam the day before had been risky. Actually, no matter how incredible the whole affair might seem, everything appears to have been predetermined by the Creator or nature itself. What remains inexplicable to our limited understanding is simply a natural, ordinary occurrence for the Creator. All our failures and successes are already decided beforehand. But to reach that point, the effort—or making the right decision at the right time—that we must do ourselves. I wasn’t even supposed to pass my undergraduate degree. Yet it was my destiny to complete my undergraduate studies, become a BCS cadre, study at IBA—all of it was written in my fate. Had my destiny been bound elsewhere, I would have gone there instead. I had enrolled in another master’s program under Dhaka University—MDS. After continuing that course for three months, I left it of my own accord. They had said I would need to officially hide the fact that I was simultaneously pursuing another master’s at IBA. I refused to lie. I harbor no regret about this, though. I’ve accepted that pursuing that particular master’s degree simply wasn’t written in my destiny. This is the truth, this is reality. I had gained admission to Dhaka University’s Evening MBA program in Finance, ranking sixth on the merit list, but never had to attend classes there. I received my IBA admission test results before that. I did complete my master’s in Finance from Dhaka University, but the Evening MBA program wasn’t destined for me, so I didn’t pursue my master’s degree from there.

Stepping into two boats in the middle of a river ensures certain death. Logic dictates this. But I placed my feet in two boats, taking the maximum risk—I had no other choice—yet both boats moved forward in parallel at the same speed at the same time, so I didn’t slip between them and lose my life. What explanation could there be for this? Life doesn’t follow logic; life follows the Creator’s signals. Life doesn’t always operate according to explanations. Sometimes life moves on faith. So there’s nothing to say about anyone’s personal philosophy and the life they live according to their beliefs, as long as that life doesn’t interfere with someone else’s way of living. Somewhere, no explicable form of life can be seen, and life is just like this!

Through sheer mental strength alone, I had believed that some miracle would surely occur. It did happen, because in Providence’s master plan, that’s what was meant to happen. Everything in between was the Creator’s games or plans to test my patience and concentration. You will never be given a gift you don’t deserve. You will be tested, and if you fail to pass that test, you will deprive yourself of the Creator’s grace through your own fault. I’m sharing with you the Facebook status I posted after the IBA admission test results came out, along with a couple of my own comments on it:

Friends, I’ve been finally selected for admission into the MBA Program of IBA, Dhaka University. …… feeling happy. ……. HATS OFF to Sharmeen didi, Ira madam & Romel bhai!!

# My dear friends….. Your gorgeous presence on my wall makes me think twice about the POWER of friendship & the MAGIC of love. YES……… They matter!! I just want to be with you forever. Please never say GOODBYE…. It hurts!! Your kindness and care mean a lot to me. You’ve always given me much more than I really deserve. Please accept my sincere GRATITUDE.

Happy Social Networking!!

Long live Facebook!!

My best wishes for our Friendship!!

……… Love you all ……

# (To one of my close friends) Dost, not reaching the Interview Session on 17 January at 5:30 pm was what I thought to be….. reaching there in time was what was written in my DESTINY….. And, I ended up calling it a MIRACLE, something I never believed in before…… Just have a look at the schedule of 17 January……

International Affairs Exam (BCS written exam)…. 10:00 am — 1:00 pm

The departure time of the GMG Airlines: 3:20 pm, there was a delay of about 1 hour due to fog and I availed another delayed flight of Bangladesh Biman at 4:37 pm.

The plane landed on Dhaka Airport at 5:13 pm and then I started my fight against time to meet the deadline by bike with Romel bhai!! Who managed those three saviours (Sharmeen didi, Ira madam & Romel bhai) for me? I don’t know. You better ask the Heaven! I saw such a breath-taking motor-bike driving only in English movies. Before that day, I had never thought I would experience it!!

Life is sometimes stranger than fiction . . . . Who can tell it better than I?

# (To one of my senior high-profile Indian friends) Thank you Sir for your words of felicitation. IBA of Dhaka University is considered as the most prestigious institute for doing MBA in Bangladesh. As per the rules of that Business School, the Major/Field of Specialization is allowed to be chosen at the final semester judging the academic records & intention of a candidate. I don’t have much idea about what to choose and why to choose. Please share some ideas on it as you’ve huge practical knowledge (so far as I know) about the present corporate trend.

You’ve nicely stated the trend of our careerist B-school graduates. No one really cares about their own aptitude, rather, tries to be what market wants them to be. Personally, I always like the decision-making and mainstream operational sections of giant companies. And, probably I’ll go for finance as my major when I’ve to choose it in my final semester. Yes, my semester results must be well enough to work on my advantage. That’ll be a story of one and a half years later. Till then, I’ll have to undergo the generalized curriculum as my B-school formulates. The recent economic recession worries our friends studying at the US universities. And, almost all of them suggest me not to plan of staying there. But at the same time, they suggest me completing my PhD in the US if I want to and grab that opportunity. Let’s wait and see. . . . . Are you in India now? Hope you’re quite OK along with your busy schedule. Please, sometimes give me your valuable suggestions when you’ve time and you’re here on Facebook. . . . . Thank you once again for your helpful advice. Take care.

In explaining the final part of the status shared above, I had written these words:

Let me share the Story behind the Story and elucidate the last part of my status. It would have been quite impossible for me to reach Dhaka University from Dhaka International Airport within just 50 minutes (!!) to attend the interview session of IBA in time on Jan 17, but for the cordial help of Sharmeen didi (Sharmeen Muiz) & Ira madam (Johora Bebe Ira). They’re the persons who made that miracle happen!! And, Romel bhai (Monirul Alam Romel) is the “Man with the Bike” who dared fight against time to meet the deadline!! ……. I feel honoured to express my heartfelt gratitude to these three saviours. …….. Miracles Happen When You Believe!!

I conclude this piece with a beautifully strange comment Sharmeen didi made on that status: “My prayers, good wishes, and prayers remain with you. Dear brother of mine, may you grow to great heights. And may the successful reflection of our efforts (Ira’s and mine) shine through in everything you do. I was there, I am here, I will be there. …….. Heaps of hugs and love.”

What sustains a human being? We live on love, on prayers, on good wishes. These are what keep me alive—quite well alive, in fact. My gratitude!

P.S. Let me offer you some practical wisdom. Those who think they know too much, who consider themselves supremely intelligent, who speak in grand terms without any real qualifications or notable position, who try to diminish others even through outright lies, who pontificate without knowledge, who speak to you in such a manner that you begin to doubt your own confidence—I would advise you to absolutely, absolutely, and absolutely avoid such people. They themselves cannot go very far in life, nor will they allow you to go very far either.

(Written 2-3 years ago)

I thought, why should I surrender before I’ve even lost? I’ll see this through to the end. At home, my parents were also saying, “Give up one of them.” My heart was telling me, “I won’t give up, not for anything!” Let me gamble with life this once and see what happens! You have to listen to your heart. I called the MBA Program Office. Zakir bhai was in charge there. He said, “IBA’s schedule doesn’t change for anyone. You change your schedule.” I said, “That’s not possible. You have several slots. BCS has only one.” Even after that he said, “It’s not possible in any way. We’re sorry!” Saying this, he hung up the phone, and my stubbornness only grew stronger. I put aside studying for the next day’s exam. After some inquiries, I learned that Rahi Sir was the Program Chairman for IBA’s MBA at the time. Only he could change my interview slot if he wanted to. Rahi Sir is an incredibly fierce person. IBA’s Marketing Department is the best in Bangladesh. Rahi Sir is the best faculty in that department. I got his number. The person I got the number from asked, “Are you really going to call Rahi Sir?” “Yes. Why?” “We students never dare to call Sir. And you’re going to call him for this?” “I will. I have to. My back is against the wall.” “God bless you, man! You better think twice.” I said, “Sometimes life doesn’t give you the opportunity to think twice. It’s the first and the only chance! I must grab it before it’s too late! I will call him. I’ll make my attempt—if it works, it works; if not, so be it. If I don’t try, it definitely won’t work. Thank you, bhai!” Right after finishing that conversation, without any second thoughts, I called Rahi Sir. A man with an extremely serious voice. It’s frightening just to speak with him. But I have nothing left to lose. I only know this: I passed IBA’s written exam and IBA has to conduct my interview. I had truly become reckless. I blurted out my entire problem in one breath. Rahi Sir said, “You silly kid! You’ve dared to call Rahi Sir for this! Did you think I am your friend? It’s not my business whether you can attend the viva board or not. You have only 2 choices: Leave IBA, or, Leave BCS.” To my infinite amazement, I heard myself saying, “Sir, I have called you to hear about the third choice. If you don’t have that, please make it for me. I know I’ll be at IBA.” Sir said very loudly over the phone, “You are a stupid little boy. You just know nothing about the things here! Don’t waste my time. I am busy!” “Sir, please give me a chance. I am………” I couldn’t make him hear any more—he hung up before that. I couldn’t understand what had happened, only felt an even stronger desire to believe that I would definitely study at IBA. BCS seemed to fade for a moment. Whatever happens in tomorrow’s exam will happen. Right now I need to sort out the IBA situation first. I called the program office again.

I asked, “When can I actually meet Rahi sir?” “What do you mean?” “Sir told me to come see him.” “Ask sir himself when you can actually meet him.” (I mustered the courage to lie….) “Sir said to call the program office and find out.” “He told you to ask us? Really! Alright, stay on the line, let me check sir’s class schedule.” Zakir bhai informed me that if I came next Friday evening, I could meet sir. Saying “thank you very much,” I hung up the phone and immediately left home to buy a bus ticket. From near Gariullah Shah’s shrine in Chittagong, I bought a ticket on Unique’s non-AC bus to Dhaka for Thursday night. The next day, under tremendous mental pressure, I took my Bangladesh Studies Paper 1 exam. Even in the exam hall, my mind kept racing: “Will Rahi sir keep his word?” In my answer sheet, I mistakenly wrote the word “Rahi” several times, though I crossed it out later.

I arrived at IBA before afternoon on Friday. I stood waiting in front of the MBA Program Office. Zakir bhai wasn’t there at the time—he came in the evening, two hours later. I went up and introduced myself. “Oh, I see, you’ve come from Chittagong. Rahi sir mentioned he would speak with you about changing your interview schedule? Really??” “Yes, he told me to come see him!” We were talking when Rahi sir arrived shortly after. He went straight through the program office into his room. A dignified man of serious disposition. His office was right next to the program office. Zakir bhai said, “Please sit on the sofa. Let me ask sir if he’s free right now.” When he told sir, “Someone named Sushanta Pal has come from Chittagong to see you—you had asked him to come,” sir immediately shouted quite loudly, “I didn’t ask anyone to come see me! Tell him to leave. Disgusting!” Zakir bhai told me, “Sir won’t see you. You should go.” “I’ll leave, but only after meeting with sir. Brother, I haven’t come here to turn back. I must see him.” Almost forcefully, I entered sir’s room without permission. After I said very politely, “Assalamu alaikum, sir,” he returned the greeting and said, “What do you want?” There were several other students in the room who had come to sir for various matters. “Sir, I called you the day before yesterday evening.” “Is it my duty to remember your call? Get out!” I said nothing and stood there with my head bowed. The words “Get out!” didn’t register in my mind. At that moment, I only knew that I would speak with Rahi sir about changing the schedule, and sir would surely agree to do so. After standing like this for nearly half an hour, sir said, “Why are you standing here like a statue?” I fearfully placed an application about changing the time slot on sir’s desk and began to say, “Sir, the day before yesterday I spoke with you on the phone…” “Speak in the language I am using now.” “Sir, my interview has been scheduled for next Monday at 10 in the morning. I am appearing for the 30th BCS written exam. I have an exam at the same time. So, I request you to shift my schedule to another convenient time slot.” “Sorry, we cannot.” “Please Sir! Otherwise, my dream to be here will be shattered.” “Let it be. Just go for BCS. You will do better being a civil servant.” “But Sir, it’s uncertain.” “Is being here certain for you?” “No Sir, that’s why I cannot leave any of these 2 opportunities. Please Sir, give me a chance. Do me a favour. I will be ever grateful, Sir.” “What time is your exam?” “10 o’clock, sir.” “How long?” “Three hours, sir.” “Okay fine, come straight here after your exam. Can you make it by 1:30?” I realized sir had forgotten that I’d come from Chittagong. “Sir, I’m taking the exam from Chittagong.” “Stupid! We cannot change our schedule for you! Are you Mr President?” “No Sir, I just want to be your student! I will do anything you tell me to do. Please give me a chance, Sir!” “Look, brother, you won’t be able to finish your exam at 1 o’clock and come from Chittagong to take the interview anyway.

You won’t make it even if you leave at 10 PM. The roads are in terrible condition, there’s heavy traffic.” “Sir, I can come in the evening.” “How? By plane?” “Yes, sir. Please give me a chance, sir.” “Alright. Don’t you have an exam the next day?” “I do, sir. I can manage. I’ll buy a return ticket.” “What time can you arrive?” “Whatever you say, sir.” “Your exam will end at 1 PM. Hmm… okay, can you make it to the 3 o’clock board?” “Yes sir, I can be there at 3.” “Do you know if there are flights at that time?” “I don’t know, sir. I’ll find out.” “I think there’s a flight around 3.” “What time can you arrive?” “4 o’clock, sir?” “Foolish boy! Your brain isn’t working. How can you take a 3 o’clock flight from Chittagong and get from the airport to IBA by 4? You have no idea about Dhaka city. Okay, you come by 5:15 sharp. You will be last person in that board. If you come after that, nothing can be done. The evening board is for Executive MBA. It won’t be possible to hold your viva there. Okay?” “Thank you, sir.” “Youngman, you have decided to play with your life! Best of luck!” “Please pray for me, sir. I can do this!” Tears came to my eyes. I realized that though this man appeared stern on the outside, he was very gentle within. I offered many prayers for the sir and left IBA. I went to Aziz and bought some books. Then I went to Fakirapul and took the 10 PM non-AC bus from Unique, reaching Chittagong in the morning.

I’m sharing the application with you:

15 January 2011

The Program Director, MBA Program

Institute of Business Administration

University of Dhaka

Dhaka

Subject: Prayer for changing the time slot of the interview schedule of the MBA Program Admission

Sir,

This letter expresses my earnest request to change my interview schedule of the MBA Program Admission 2010-2011. I am a candidate for Full-Time Course, my admit number is 2745 and I am on Interview Board 6 scheduled to be conducted at the 10:00 am to 1:00 pm time slot on January 17, 2011. I am appearing at the 30th BCS written examination and my Examination Centre is at Chittagong. I have an examination on January 17, 2011, coincided with the same time slot of the interview and so it is not possible for me to come from Chittagong and attend the interview at 10:00 am.

I will be highly obliged if you kindly permit me to attend the interview at the 6:00 pm to 8:30 pm time slot scheduled for Evening Board 3 and Evening Board 4 on January 17, 2011.

Yours faithfully

Sushanta Paul

I had never been on a plane before. I thought that wherever you go, you need a passport to fly. My elder brother called a friend who works with passport services and asked what documents are needed for an emergency passport to Dhaka. He burst out laughing! He said, “Buddy, what do you need a passport for? A plane and a bus are the same thing. One flies in the sky, the other runs on the road. That’s all there is to it! Just go buy a ticket. That’s it! Which one is good? You can go with GMG. That’s pretty good.” I didn’t know that you don’t have to rush to the airport to buy a plane ticket. I had no idea how much tickets cost. Getting off the bus in the morning, I went straight to a Dutch-Bangla Bank booth and withdrew ten thousand taka. Then I jumped into a CNG and rushed to the airport. I bought a ticket from the GMG Airlines counter for the 3:20 flight on Monday, the 17th. That was the first Chittagong-Dhaka flight of the afternoon. I booked a return ticket for the same day on the 7:45 evening flight. I felt like I could see it right before my eyes—me attending classes at IBA! Such a strange vision! I returned home with a victorious smile, almost as if I had already gotten into IBA! At night, I tried to prepare from various guides and the internet about what they might ask in the IBA interview. I studied for about 4-5 hours. At the same time, I posted a status on Facebook: How much time does it take to reach Dhaka University from Dhaka International Airport? Is it possible to reach in 40 minutes? Friends, any suggestion, please? I was truly a very simple person back then. I saw the world in very simple terms. Since I hadn’t visited Dhaka much, I didn’t know that in 2011 it wasn’t possible to get from the airport to Shahbag in 40 minutes. Everyone was saying it would take a minimum of two hours to get from the airport to the university campus in the afternoon. All sorts of bizarre comments came in reply to my status. Many started making fun of me. I’ll share some of my friends’ suggestions: “It’s possible if you run.” “It would be great if you jogged to the university. You’d get your evening exercise too!” “You shouldn’t have bought that plane ticket! With that money, if you had thrown us a party, we all would have prayed together and your BCS would have worked out! Hahahaha…..” “Young man! You’re young, just run as soon as you get off the plane! You’ll see, you’ll reach before time!” “Listen, such-and-such bus runs on such-and-such route. Hanging and sleeping, you’ll reach IBA just fine!” I got many such absurd comments. I knew absolutely nothing about Dhaka then. When you’re in trouble, doesn’t everyone have to give you a kick? It began to feel like that’s just how life is! People can’t extend a hand to pull you up, but they can certainly extend a foot to kick you down! Without getting the least bit discouraged by anyone’s words, I kept waiting to see if someone would give some good advice. I didn’t react to anyone’s reply that day. How helplessly calm a person becomes when in trouble. All I knew was this: “I’m giving my IBA interview on the 17th.” One person wrote, “You can go by bike. There’s no faster way to reach the university campus.” Some people even supported that idea. A few mentioned taxi cabs. Support was strongest for the bike option. Up until then, I had ridden a bike maybe 2-3 times in my entire life, counting generously. I didn’t really know anyone in Dhaka who had a bike, or if I did know someone, my mind wasn’t working at all then. Sometimes I think now, alas!

I couldn’t even afford to manage a bike at that time. I wrote, “My flight is scheduled to land at Dhaka Airport at 4.10 pm on 17 January. I must reach Dhaka University at or before 5.15 pm. I’ve an interview at IBA at that time. . . . Can’t I do it? Is it not possible? I need to do it at any cost. As I don’t know about the routes of Dhaka City, I’m asking for your help. Dhaka City is an unknown city to me. Can a taxi cab help me reach there in 1 hour? I can’t be late, otherwise I’ll miss the interview schedule. I’ve managed that schedule today through an application. . . Can a bike be a better solution? Or, something else? I’m in great trouble. . . .” After posting this, the mocking and laughter began all over again. I replied to the distinguished gentleman (one of Bangladesh’s most successful businessmen) who had advised me to jog there: “Thank you Sir for you ‘jogging’ suggestion. I was also seriously thinking of this option. Yes, I’ll surely manage to reach in time by vehicles, on foot, again by vehicles, again on foot . . . . And, I’ll go. I’ll be there in time by any means.” Someone said, “Change the schedule once more.” I wrote, “The schedule can’t be changed! Hopefully, there will happen some miracle and I’ll manage to avail the schedule in time.” A younger brother wrote, “Brother, you should go by taxi-cab. But you could try the bus once. Dhaka buses run quite well!” I replied, “Brother, I’m not surely making any attempt of getting on a bus! That’ll be horrible, you know. I was just seeking for a suggestion as I don’t know about the route. Thanks for the suggestion. I think a CNG powered taxi can help me in this regard. A taxi-cab is prone to getting stuck up in the congestion forever. A bike could be a better solution. But, I can’t manage it.”

Mrs. Zohra, whose name was Ira—an extremely distinguished lady—commented, “You need a bike?” “That would be wonderful.” “Alright, let me see what I can do.” She was the Deputy Managing Director of ONE Bank. After completing her studies in Chemistry from Chittagong University, she had done her MBA from IBA. She worked in the corporate sector, but there were very few people who didn’t know her. I have a sister. Her name is Sharmin Muiz Khan. At that time, she was one of those rare souls who loved someone as insignificant as me far more than necessary, showered me with affection for no particular reason. She was almost my mother’s age, but I addressed her as ‘tumi’ and she called me ‘tui’. She had studied English Literature at Dhaka University. She particularly loved my writing. She was a business magnate and had connections with many prominent people. I have rarely seen a lady as distinguished, refined, elegant, and utterly graceful as her. She commented, “Bappi, someone needs to grab you and give you a good thrashing. Are you enjoying confusing everyone by calling them all the time? Please stop wasting your time browsing Facebook and concentrate on tomorrow’s exam. Otherwise, you’re calling for another disaster. There is a saying: ‘Que sera, sera’ meaning: Whatever will be, will be. So, pray and try your best. I have given this opinion after a lot of serious thoughts. Please follow it. You will leave here right now. I don’t want to see you making even one more comment! MIRACLES HAPPEN IF YOU BELIEVE IN YOURSELF!” I replied, “Didi, things are that they’re. Things will be that they will be. And, between this two there lie some miracles that we’re never aware of. And, miracles are often stranger than facts. Facts are because they’re. Miracles are because we or someone else wants them to be. That’s the truth!” She called Mrs. Zohra. She said, “Look Ira, my brother has gotten into a bit of trouble. The poor thing is a simple soul, we should do something for him. Can’t you arrange a bike for him?” A little while later, I saw a message from Mrs. Zohra in my inbox: “Please give me your contact number. Regards” I gave it immediately. The call came within seconds. After introducing herself, she said, “You need a bike Monday at 4 PM, right?” “That would be wonderful.” “OK, a bike will be there for you at 4. My colleague Romel will pick you. Alright?” “I am truly, truly grateful. Thank you so very much!” “Let’s get the work done first, then you can thank me. I’m texting you Romel’s number. Take care.” She hung up immediately. I wrote to her: “Life is stranger than fiction, I repeat. From myself, I’ve got much less than I truly deserve. From others, I’ve got much more than I truly deserve. Is it the thing that they call miracle? I don’t know and never try to know. I let miracles happen and thankfully they always happen . . . . . . . Thank you for your generous approach. This really means a lot to me.” I wrote my piece. I don’t know if she ever read it or had the time to read it. Noble souls don’t wait for thanks. Besides, she was truly, truly busy.

He was the head of the credit section at One Bank. He had no reason to know a nobody like me, yet he knew me through my writing. Otherwise, I would never have had the privilege of speaking with him directly. And the fact that Sharmin didi had spoken to him about me—that was a big deal too. The next day was the Bangladesh Affairs Paper 2 exam. I went to sleep without studying any of it. The day after, straight from the exam hall, I went to the Westex showroom at Probortak intersection. My life’s first interview. I was incredibly excited! I had decided I’d go to the interview board wearing everything brand new. I bought a formal white shirt, black pants, black tie, black belt, black socks, white undershirt, and brown shoes. Later, from Gallery Apex I bought formal Oxford shoes, and from Time Zone a Titan wristwatch, then returned home in the evening. Seeing my antics, Ma was laughing. “Ma, why are you laughing?” “Just because, dear.” The funny thing was, Ma went with me to the exam hall every single day. She always kept me close, just like a child. Ma said, “Tomorrow I’m going to the airport with you.” And she did go—despite my protests.

Monday, the 17th. International Affairs exam. I couldn’t stay in the exam hall for the entire time due to nerves. I don’t have a car, what if the CNG takes too long to reach the airport! What if I miss the flight! The flight was at 3:20. And it takes at least 2 hours to reach the airport from Omar Gani MES College by 1 PM. Our written exam had been during winter. In the bitter cold, my fingers would freeze. Still, I kept rubbing my palms together to warm them, blowing hot breath into the hollow of my cupped hands, and wrote with all my strength. Instead of 1 o’clock, I finished the exam at 12:30, submitted my paper, and rushed out. When I emerged from the hall and reached the gate, everyone thought I must have been expelled! The intense stress was clearly written all over my face. Many showed me sympathy, told me not to worry, advised me to do better in the next BCS. I didn’t have time to respond. What could I say anyway—at that moment, life itself was one giant question mark for me! I don’t know what strength possessed my mother. She ran almost twice as fast as me, covering the distance from the college campus to the road. We got into a CNG without bargaining, paying nearly one and a half times the normal fare. I told the driver, “However you manage it, get us to the airport within two hours. If necessary, I’ll pay you extra.” It was 12:50 on the clock. The CNG started speeding. Mother opened the tiffin box and fed me khichuri, meat, and fried egg. One thought kept spinning in my head: “Will I catch the plane? If we get stuck in traffic, it’s all over!” I took off my sweater. I had left home that morning wearing my viva outfit, everything except the tie. After escaping two minor traffic jams, when we reached the airport, it was 5 minutes to 3. As soon as I got down, I touched my mother’s and aunt’s feet in respect (a distant aunt had come with us since mother couldn’t return home from the airport alone) and ran to the counter. There I learned that the flight was delayed by an hour due to dense fog. I thought, if the plane leaves at that time, there’s no way I can reach IBA by 5:15. I informed the counter staff about this. They said there was nothing they could do; they were very sorry. I inquired and learned that no other flights were departing at that time either. At that moment, I felt utterly helpless, just wanting to cry. I felt like I had no one, no one at all! I kept going from counter to counter. I found out there was a Bangladesh Biman flight departing at 3:45. There was no other flight before that. It was a bigger plane, taking 30 minutes to reach, whereas other planes take at least 40 minutes. Meaning, I would reach Dhaka airport by 4:15! I bought the ticket right then. There was great hope in my heart—if this one leaves on time, there’s nothing more to worry about. I went to the airport restroom and quickly put on my tie. I adjusted my shirt once more. Looking in the mirror, I fixed my hair with my hand. The clock hand crossed 4 after passing 3:45. The plane was delayed due to fog. We all boarded the plane at 4:15. It was my first time on a plane. I kept thinking, when will it take off, when will it take off! Every second felt like an hour! The tension was making it hard to breathe, yet the plane wouldn’t take off. I thought, oh! If only I could spend all my strength to make this plane soar into the sky! I pressed my handkerchief over my eyes to hide my tears. Finally, the plane took off. It was 4:37 on the clock. I was thinking, oh!

The plane could have taken off directly without taxiing! At least a couple of minutes would have been saved! The plane landed on Dhaka’s runway at 5:13.

I burst out of the domestic terminal running with all my might, and gasping for breath, I saw a motorcycle come to a stop right in front of me. “You’re Sushanta, right? Get on the back!” I extended my hand to shake hands with the young man in the black helmet. He didn’t raise his black-gloved right fist for a handshake. “Time’s wasting, brother! Please get on! Quick!” I didn’t argue further. “You’re not used to riding bikes, are you?” “Yes. How did you know?” “Brother, I’ve been riding bikes for the past 18-20 years. I can tell.” “I see.” “Lean forward and press your chest firmly against my back! You can even wrap your arms around me, otherwise you’ll get thrown off. For sure! I’m going to ride fast.” The way that bike tore out of the airport—I don’t have the courage to even think about it today. Under normal circumstances, I might have screamed in fear and told him to stop, or I really would have been thrown off. But at that moment I knew that being afraid was important, but far more important was reaching IBA alive. I don’t know if the wheels of that 150cc bike actually touched the ground that day, but for the second time in my life I understood this truth: you cannot frighten someone who stakes their life to touch their dreams. I had only seen bikes racing so recklessly on the roads in movies. The bike was literally cutting through the whooshing sound of wind, as if flying through the air! “Say brother, are you somebody really important?” “What do you mean?” “Well, Madam told me that one of her very important friends had to be delivered from the airport to IBA within half an hour, no matter what. That was her order! Who are you, brother? Hahahaha………” “I’m Madam’s Facebook friend.” “What are you saying, man? How’s that possible! I was thinking even more… you mean you’ve never even met her?” “No, brother. Why?” (There’s a railway crossing ahead. The barrier is coming down.) “Brother, duck your head a little.” Saying this, he quickly rode the bike under the barrier without obeying the signal. Many people behind us were shouting for us to stop. “Brother, just don’t be afraid. Nothing will happen. You can close your eyes if you want.” Right at that moment, while quickly emerging from between two trucks standing side by side, he said, “Sit a bit smaller, brother!” A little further ahead—massive traffic jam at a signal! Romel bhai lifted the bike onto the sidewalk. “Brother, please give way a little, give way a little,” he kept saying as he raced forward. He had to do this several times. Sometimes when riding on the central divider in the middle of the road, traffic police would catch us, and he’d say in a tearful voice, “Sir, my aunt is fighting for her life in the medical college. I’m going to donate blood. O-negative blood—we can’t find any. If I don’t reach on time, we won’t be able to save my aunt, sir!” He’d manage the police with this story and then race off at the same speed again! Whenever there was a traffic jam on the road, he’d immediately change to another road. That day I learned that when obstacles appear on the road, it doesn’t mean there is no road. Rather, it means you have to take a different road! Right now!! I had only seen such daredevil biking in Hollywood action movies. Looking at my hair in the bike’s mirror, it seemed as if it had stood up straight after an electric shock! My face was covered with dust from the city. In the fierce wind, my tie was flying behind me in the air. I don’t know if anyone has ever seen a bike race so recklessly through Dhaka’s roads during rush hour. But for some reason, I truly wasn’t afraid at all. I kept thinking over and over, “How quickly can one reach IBA!” Romel bhai had finished his honors and master’s from Dhaka College before joining the bank. I had asked him, “What’s your designation at the bank?” He had joked, “Not much, just 14 more promotions and I’ll be able to sit in Zohra Madam’s chair. Hahaha…….”

When I arrived in front of IBA, my watch showed 5:52. As I got down, I saw my younger brother Pappu and his friend Arefin standing there. At that time, I had my gift shop ‘Dobhana.’ Pappu and Arefin were my working partners. They often came to Dhaka from Chawk Bazaar in Old Dhaka to buy wholesale goods for the shop. I had withdrawn myself from the shop to focus on my BCS exam preparation. They ran everything. They were already in Dhaka on shop business. I had told them to go to the IBA MBA program office and keep me updated by phone about the viva board situation. Through repeated conversations with them, I was checking whether the interview board was still there, asking them to go to the program office and explain that I couldn’t arrive on time due to flight delays, terrible traffic jams, and so on. As soon as I got down, they informed me, “Bhaiya, the board left 4-5 minutes ago. Now only the Executive MBA viva remains.” After introducing them to Romel bhai, I rushed up to the MBA program office on the second floor. As soon as they saw me, everyone there stopped their work and looked at me. I saw Rahi Sir busy with something; he didn’t respond to my greeting. “Sir, I’m very late. Despite trying hard, I couldn’t arrive on time. I…” Without giving me a chance to say anything more, he shouted, “You Idiot! Get out!” “Sir, I…” “I said, Get out! Out! Out!! I knew very well that you wouldn’t be able to come on time. Is it possible to take one exam in Chittagong and then come to Dhaka for another exam? That easy? You’ve just wasted my time! I had told everyone that a boy from Chittagong would come at 5:15, and we needed to take his viva. Did you think I am a joker?” “Sir, I came here with great difficulty. The flight was delayed, there was heavy traffic on the road. I really…” “It’s none of my business! Get out! Go back where you came from.” “Sir, I had many dreams of studying at IBA.” “Everyone on the street has such dreams. I gave you a chance but you missed it. That’s all! Get out of here.” “Sir, please have some mercy…” (I felt like falling at his feet and crying…) Right beside him sat a gentle-looking gentleman much younger than the sir. He said, “Sir, I’ve heard about him. His younger brother kept coming to our program office. They had been standing in front of the office for hours. His flight was indeed delayed. And there’s heavy traffic in Dhaka today too. A friend of mine came to my room from the airport a while ago; it took him a long time to get here too. Give him a chance, Sir. He’s come so far, taking such risks with great difficulty! He apparently has another written exam tomorrow too. The poor fellow has to return to Chittagong today itself.” “Son, you junior faculty members don’t even know what you’re saying, what kind of requests you make. Why are you pleading for him? Is he your relative or something?” “No no Sir, I’m seeing him for the first time today. Just look at his face once, Sir. He’s really come here with great difficulty. Please do him a favor, Sir.” “You have no idea what you are talking about! Will the Executive MBA viva be the same as theirs? They have 3 years of job experience, while these are just children in comparison!

“This won’t be possible, brother. I am sorry!” “Sir, please help the poor fellow a bit. He’s come such a long way with so much hope!” “Son, we can’t manage anything more for you!” I stood a little distance away, head bowed. Looking at me, he called out loudly, “Hey, stupid! Why are you standing there like a donkey? Go on, go to the third floor! Go and stand there absolutely quietly. We’ll call you.” I truly couldn’t understand whether such a beautiful moment had ever come anywhere in this world before! Tears began streaming down my face. I prayed again and again from my heart for Babu sir. Rahi sir seemed like a father figure to me. I kept remembering mother’s words: “Never get angry at teachers’ scolding. When teachers scold, it means blessings.” Overwhelmed with emotion, as I was about to leave after thanking and saluting the teachers, Rahi sir called from behind, “Hey crazy boy! Comb your hair before entering the board! Wash your face at the basin! Don’t be so scared! Hahaha…” I couldn’t say anything more. I kept staring blankly at sir’s face. My cheeks were wet with tears from both eyes. Babu sir placed his hand on my shoulder and said, “Go on, go upstairs and wait. We are not that much bad people as you thought us to be. Sometimes even the IBA faculties are too good! Freshen up, give your interview properly, now there’s no tension anymore. What’s your exam tomorrow?” “Sir, Mathematical Reasoning and Mental Ability.” “How will you go?” “Sir, I have a return plane ticket.” “Good! Brother, splash some water on your eyes and face to fix your appearance. Give your viva quickly and rush to the airport! Good luck!” At that moment I felt like touching sir’s feet in salute. People get frightened by sudden intense love. For the first time, it suddenly struck me: “What if I can’t honor this love of my teachers? What if I don’t get a chance at IBA in the end?”

When we find ourselves in trouble, if our intentions are pure, a way out always emerges! I went to the washroom on the third floor and tried my best to “make myself presentable” by wetting my hair and smoothing it down. After splashing water on my face, I went and waited in front of the notice board. I was called after 10 minutes. It was nearly seven o’clock. When I entered the room, I saw many faculty members seated there. I hadn’t known that so many would be present for an interview. I thought this was perhaps how IBA interviews were conducted. I later learned that this entire panel had been assembled just for me. Apart from Babu Sir and Rahi Sir, I didn’t recognize anyone else. After getting admitted, I realized that those present that evening were IBA’s most senior and accomplished faculty members. The board included Saiful Majid Sir, Shama-e-Zahir Sir, Mamun Sir, Munir Khosru Sir, Niaz Sir, and Saif Noman Khan Sir. Most of the junior faculty had finished their interviews and gone home, while some senior faculty were in their offices conducting Executive MBA interviews. Some of them had been specially called in. I was in the interview for about 18-20 minutes. Many of the faculty members knew about my situation that day. I had heard of something called “divine possession” in life. At certain special moments, due to particular external influences or circumstances, people suddenly gain extraordinary power. In those moments, they step outside their normal state and display different behavior. They can harness the utmost potential of their inner infinite strength. In that wondrous balanced fusion of emotion and capability, the best version of themselves emerges. From the moment I entered the interview room, I had very likely become a different person, or perhaps the very best ‘me’ from within had emerged that day. By what divine signal this happened, I don’t know. No hesitation, doubt, nervousness, fear, the day’s exhaustion, or lethargy was affecting me at all. I felt incredibly composed and light as a feather. It felt as though whatever I was saying or doing was the best possible. I was experiencing the finest moment of my life right then and there. I can say with complete honesty that the style in which I spoke English that day—I have never in my entire life, even to this day, been able to speak English so flawlessly and fluently. That day the faculty members engaged in various kinds of humor during the interview. They were having great fun with me. Most likely, the faculty wanted to “shake me up” somehow. I don’t know why, by whose indication I don’t know, but I kept answering all their questions one by one with a very cool head and a smile that day. They interviewed me in English on various diverse topics, starting from describing the entire day’s events and the preceding Facebook incidents to many other subjects. (Of course, at IBA there’s absolutely no opportunity to give interviews in Bengali.) Why I wanted to pursue an MBA, why IBA if I was going to take government job exams anyway, my weaknesses, whether I’d ever been in love, how I spend my leisure time, some conversation about reading books, various economic issues of Bangladesh, some personal and family matters, my future plans, the breathless motorcycle journey from A to Z, the BCS examination system, why I went into engineering despite having no interest, why I delayed my honors degree, why I didn’t study properly, why my CGPA was so low, what I like to eat, what kind of personality I prefer in people, what I know about IBA, some current affairs, and several other questions. I was answering very quickly in correct English. The faculty praised this too. I gave a very simple, straightforward, and candid interview. I didn’t speak a single false word that day.

I didn’t need to think before speaking—whatever came to mind, I simply said, so there was no chance to fabricate lies. At the end, they asked me to sing a song. When I said, “I can’t, Sir,” Babu Sir showed me my info-form and laughed, saying, “But you’ve claimed so.” I had written Reading, Writing, Singing in the hobbies section… At that moment, it felt like I was living the best day of my life. I sang, “Aaj ei dintake…” “I see, we’re getting a singer for our cultural program!” As Saiful Majid Sir was saying this, Babu Sir interjected, “Sir, he has another exam tomorrow. He’ll probably be flying back to Chittagong tonight.” Then three or four teachers exclaimed in unison, “What! He’s going back to Chittagong right now? Well then, run along, run along! Go downstairs and see if your superman biker is there! Hahahaha…” As I was leaving with my salaam, the teachers called out, “Best of luck for your tomorrow’s exam.” I kept thinking, again and again—I’ll make it, I’ll make it! (Even after giving the BCS viva, I didn’t feel this good.)

When I stepped out of IBA, it was half past seven on the clock. I knew there was no way I could catch the 7:45 flight. I also knew that I had no idea how I would get to Chittagong that night. I didn’t even feel like thinking about it. Only the exhilarating rush of having given a good exam was coursing through me. Pappu and Arefin had been waiting for me at Madhu’s canteen. Taking them along, I went to the front of Dhaka University’s Central Library and leisurely began eating vegetable pakoras and tea. Many of my students studied in various departments at Dhaka University. Quite a few came to see me. They were asking what questions had been asked in the interview. After a day of incredible experiences, my head had become almost entirely empty. I couldn’t understand why I wasn’t feeling the slightest urgency to return to Chittagong. Pappu asked, “Brother, will you take the night bus?” I said, “Yes, that could work.” (It amuses me now to think how casually I had said ‘that could work’!) The road conditions weren’t good then either, there were always traffic jams. It didn’t even occur to me—what would happen if I couldn’t reach by 10 AM tomorrow? Ripon, a dear younger brother who lived in Chittagong and was one of my former students, said, “Brother, I have a non-AC train ticket; for Turna Nishitha, leaving tonight. It doesn’t matter if I don’t go to Chittagong today. Brother, you take it.” “Alright, fine,” I said, took the ticket, and set off toward Kamalapur Station. That night the train left nearly an hour and a half late. I didn’t even want to think about what was going to happen! I had already surrendered myself to fate long before. In my mind I kept repeating only this: whatever will be, will be. Whether I want it or not, it will happen. And whatever is happening is surely for the good; whatever will happen will surely be for the good too. Let’s see! After the day’s exhaustion, I had a very peaceful sleep. Suddenly I woke up hearing commotion around me. The train had stopped at Comilla. Apparently there was some problem with the line. We were delayed there for nearly two and a quarter hours. I couldn’t understand why I wasn’t feeling any kind of anxiety! I fell asleep again. Sleep is the world’s only faithful lover. Whenever I want it, I find it near. Never, under any circumstances, does it abandon me. There can be no purer love than the love for sleep.

When the train reached Chittagong railway station the next day, it was a quarter to ten in the morning. My exam was scheduled to start at ten. It takes only fifteen minutes to get from the station to my house. When I got home, I found my mother sitting there with everything ready in her hands—my pencil box, board, scale, pen, calculator, admit card, registration card, all of it. My parents had been terribly anxious at home. I hadn’t been able to speak to them since after half past one at night. My mobile had run out of charge. (I was using a cheap Nokia 1100 mobile set back then. Everyone called it the “national set”! It was so sturdy that many would joke, “Dude, you could crack jackfruit with that phone!” I’d tease my friends who used expensive mobiles, saying, “My phone’s model is ‘N Eleven Zero Zero’!”) As soon as my mother saw me, she said, “Dear, how are you? Will you take today’s exam?” I felt emotionally numb. It seemed as though I was lighter than a feather at that moment, floating around in some kind of trance! I smiled and said, “Ma, I’m perfectly fine. I’ll take the exam.” Saying this, I took the packed shopping bag from my mother’s hands and left the house just as I was. It was 10:05 on the clock. From our house to the exam center, it takes at least thirty minutes by CNG during office hours. When I reached the college gate, it was 10:43. That day was the mathematical reasoning and mental ability test. The first two hours were mathematical reasoning, followed by one hour of mental ability. The exam had already started forty-three minutes earlier. Naturally, the police wouldn’t let me enter. I pleaded extensively, kept trying futilely to explain what had happened, but they weren’t willing to listen to anything. But I had made up my mind—I wasn’t going to turn back, I would get inside no matter what. A small commotion started gathering there. Seeing the crowd, the magistrate came over. After hearing my entire story, he said, “You only have one hour left. Can you finish all the math problems in this time?” Without a moment’s hesitation, I said, “I can, sir!” “Alright, go ahead. Good luck!” My heart overflowed with gratitude toward him. At that moment, he seemed to me not human, but divine! I went in, looked at the questions, took the exam. I even showed three problems to the person sitting next to me. (He got a job in Audit and Accounts in the 30th batch.) I scored 98 on that day’s exam—50 in math, 48 in mental ability. After that… well, as everyone says—the rest is history!

But this much is true: had that day’s exam been something other than mathematics, I would have been in real trouble. I can handle math because the type of problems that appeared in the BCS written exam back then weren’t particularly difficult for me to solve. Such problems don’t strain the mind much, and the 30th BCS written exam featured relatively easy math. Even if I worked through each step carefully and added side notes, it shouldn’t have taken more than half an hour. It didn’t for me either. However, spending two and a half hours on the International Affairs exam the day before had been risky. Actually, no matter how incredible the whole affair might seem, everything appears to have been predetermined by the Creator or nature itself. What remains inexplicable to our limited understanding is simply a natural, ordinary occurrence for the Creator. All our failures and successes are already decided beforehand. But to reach that point, the effort—or making the right decision at the right time—that we must do ourselves. I wasn’t even supposed to pass my undergraduate degree. Yet it was my destiny to complete my undergraduate studies, become a BCS cadre, study at IBA—all of it was written in my fate. Had my destiny been bound elsewhere, I would have gone there instead. I had enrolled in another master’s program under Dhaka University—MDS. After continuing that course for three months, I left it of my own accord. They had said I would need to officially hide the fact that I was simultaneously pursuing another master’s at IBA. I refused to lie. I harbor no regret about this, though. I’ve accepted that pursuing that particular master’s degree simply wasn’t written in my destiny. This is the truth, this is reality. I had gained admission to Dhaka University’s Evening MBA program in Finance, ranking sixth on the merit list, but never had to attend classes there. I received my IBA admission test results before that. I did complete my master’s in Finance from Dhaka University, but the Evening MBA program wasn’t destined for me, so I didn’t pursue my master’s degree from there.

Stepping into two boats in the middle of a river ensures certain death. Logic dictates this. But I placed my feet in two boats, taking the maximum risk—I had no other choice—yet both boats moved forward in parallel at the same speed at the same time, so I didn’t slip between them and lose my life. What explanation could there be for this? Life doesn’t follow logic; life follows the Creator’s signals. Life doesn’t always operate according to explanations. Sometimes life moves on faith. So there’s nothing to say about anyone’s personal philosophy and the life they live according to their beliefs, as long as that life doesn’t interfere with someone else’s way of living. Somewhere, no explicable form of life can be seen, and life is just like this!

Through sheer mental strength alone, I had believed that some miracle would surely occur. It did happen, because in Providence’s master plan, that’s what was meant to happen. Everything in between was the Creator’s games or plans to test my patience and concentration. You will never be given a gift you don’t deserve. You will be tested, and if you fail to pass that test, you will deprive yourself of the Creator’s grace through your own fault. I’m sharing with you the Facebook status I posted after the IBA admission test results came out, along with a couple of my own comments on it:

Friends, I’ve been finally selected for admission into the MBA Program of IBA, Dhaka University. …… feeling happy. ……. HATS OFF to Sharmeen didi, Ira madam & Romel bhai!!

# My dear friends….. Your gorgeous presence on my wall makes me think twice about the POWER of friendship & the MAGIC of love. YES……… They matter!! I just want to be with you forever. Please never say GOODBYE…. It hurts!! Your kindness and care mean a lot to me. You’ve always given me much more than I really deserve. Please accept my sincere GRATITUDE.

Happy Social Networking!!

Long live Facebook!!

My best wishes for our Friendship!!

……… Love you all ……

# (To one of my close friends) Dost, not reaching the Interview Session on 17 January at 5:30 pm was what I thought to be….. reaching there in time was what was written in my DESTINY….. And, I ended up calling it a MIRACLE, something I never believed in before…… Just have a look at the schedule of 17 January……

International Affairs Exam (BCS written exam)…. 10:00 am — 1:00 pm

The departure time of the GMG Airlines: 3:20 pm, there was a delay of about 1 hour due to fog and I availed another delayed flight of Bangladesh Biman at 4:37 pm.

The plane landed on Dhaka Airport at 5:13 pm and then I started my fight against time to meet the deadline by bike with Romel bhai!! Who managed those three saviours (Sharmeen didi, Ira madam & Romel bhai) for me? I don’t know. You better ask the Heaven! I saw such a breath-taking motor-bike driving only in English movies. Before that day, I had never thought I would experience it!!

Life is sometimes stranger than fiction . . . . Who can tell it better than I?

# (To one of my senior high-profile Indian friends) Thank you Sir for your words of felicitation. IBA of Dhaka University is considered as the most prestigious institute for doing MBA in Bangladesh. As per the rules of that Business School, the Major/Field of Specialization is allowed to be chosen at the final semester judging the academic records & intention of a candidate. I don’t have much idea about what to choose and why to choose. Please share some ideas on it as you’ve huge practical knowledge (so far as I know) about the present corporate trend.

You’ve nicely stated the trend of our careerist B-school graduates. No one really cares about their own aptitude, rather, tries to be what market wants them to be. Personally, I always like the decision-making and mainstream operational sections of giant companies. And, probably I’ll go for finance as my major when I’ve to choose it in my final semester. Yes, my semester results must be well enough to work on my advantage. That’ll be a story of one and a half years later. Till then, I’ll have to undergo the generalized curriculum as my B-school formulates. The recent economic recession worries our friends studying at the US universities. And, almost all of them suggest me not to plan of staying there. But at the same time, they suggest me completing my PhD in the US if I want to and grab that opportunity. Let’s wait and see. . . . . Are you in India now? Hope you’re quite OK along with your busy schedule. Please, sometimes give me your valuable suggestions when you’ve time and you’re here on Facebook. . . . . Thank you once again for your helpful advice. Take care.

In explaining the final part of the status shared above, I had written these words:

Let me share the Story behind the Story and elucidate the last part of my status. It would have been quite impossible for me to reach Dhaka University from Dhaka International Airport within just 50 minutes (!!) to attend the interview session of IBA in time on Jan 17, but for the cordial help of Sharmeen didi (Sharmeen Muiz) & Ira madam (Johora Bebe Ira). They’re the persons who made that miracle happen!! And, Romel bhai (Monirul Alam Romel) is the “Man with the Bike” who dared fight against time to meet the deadline!! ……. I feel honoured to express my heartfelt gratitude to these three saviours. …….. Miracles Happen When You Believe!!

I conclude this piece with a beautifully strange comment Sharmeen didi made on that status: “My prayers, good wishes, and prayers remain with you. Dear brother of mine, may you grow to great heights. And may the successful reflection of our efforts (Ira’s and mine) shine through in everything you do. I was there, I am here, I will be there. …….. Heaps of hugs and love.”

What sustains a human being? We live on love, on prayers, on good wishes. These are what keep me alive—quite well alive, in fact. My gratitude!

P.S. Let me offer you some practical wisdom. Those who think they know too much, who consider themselves supremely intelligent, who speak in grand terms without any real qualifications or notable position, who try to diminish others even through outright lies, who pontificate without knowledge, who speak to you in such a manner that you begin to doubt your own confidence—I would advise you to absolutely, absolutely, and absolutely avoid such people. They themselves cannot go very far in life, nor will they allow you to go very far either.

(Written 2-3 years ago)

I have been meaning to write this piece for at least the past four years. Due to my characteristic laziness, it remained buried among my lost writings all this time. Unable to let it slip away entirely, I have resolved today to begin writing with the firm determination that, no matter how difficult it becomes, I will not leave this chair until it is finished. The trouble with not writing when one should is that the emotion and enthusiasm of that moment are lost, and often the writing fails to come alive. However, there are many exceptions to this. Sanjibchandra Chattopadhyay, the elder brother of Bankimchandra Chattopadhyay, worked for quite some time as a Deputy Magistrate in the exquisitely beautiful, remote forest region of Palamau. Many years later, he wrote ‘Palamau,’ a work born of memory and reflection. For those who have not yet read ‘Palamau,’ I will say just one thing to convey what kind of writing it is: when Bishwa Sahitya Kendra began its publishing work, everyone at the center was perplexed about which among so many masterpieces of world literature should be printed first. It was then that Abdullah Abu Sayeed decided that the first book published by Bishwa Sahitya Kendra would be ‘Palamau.’ But let me return to what I was saying. To discuss why writing intended to be written often never materializes would be to commit great injustice to oneself and others. So I shall not venture into that discussion. However, regarding this particular piece, I will only say this much: when attempting to describe one of life’s most incredible events, my hands tremble with excitement, memories blur, and a fear pervades my entire being—what would today have been like if everything that day had unfolded differently? I keep thinking that today would not have been anything like today. Today I would have been someone else entirely. Everything around me would have seemed like something else altogether. The truth is, life does not unfold the way we imagine it will. Life unfolds as life does. The color of life appears one way in imagination, but the actual color is different. Even if we think we will spend our lives playing with life itself, it does not necessarily follow that life will pass in precisely that manner. What will happen and what will not—all of this is predetermined. Our task is simply to perform brilliantly on this stage in our own way. The more skillful one’s performance, the more intimately one tastes the flavor of life.

The 30th BCS written examination began on January 11, 2011, and concluded on January 23. On the evening of Wednesday the 12th, I checked the IBA website at Dhaka University and discovered that I was among those who had passed the written portion of the MBA program admission test for the 45th batch. The candidates who passed the written exam would be divided into several groups for interviews, and my group was scheduled for Monday, January 17, at 10 AM at IBA. I had taken the BCS examination from Chittagong, where the PSC-designated examination center for Chittagong candidates was Omar Gani MES College. On the day of my IBA interview, the International Affairs exam was also scheduled to begin at 10 AM. Attending an exam at Dhaka University at the same time was simply impossible. I knew that IBA didn’t offer many second chances. Having secured this opportunity, I couldn’t imagine myself foolish or generous enough to let it slip away. Instead of studying for the next day’s Bangladesh Affairs Paper I, I began calling everyone I knew who had studied at IBA or was familiar with it. I still remember the intense excitement of that time. When something you desperately want comes within reach, yet circumstances force you to let it go—staying calm in such a moment is nearly impossible. Everyone I spoke with on the phone said the same thing: “You can’t have two good things at once. You’ll have to give up one of them. If you try to keep a foot in both boats, you’ll end up with neither. Besides, you can take the BCS exam again, and you can also take the IBA admission test again. Let go of one.” Those who valued the corporate sector highly told me to abandon BCS. Those who valued the civil service told me to pursue IBA later. No one could suggest a way to manage both. At that moment, neither option seemed bigger or smaller to me—my mind had gone completely blank, and I felt as though life was playing a game of Snakes and Ladders with me. The dice might roll such a number that I’d end up in the belly of a snake—but then again, it might not. Sometimes the number that comes up sends you climbing a ladder high above. Life’s Snakes and Ladders board doesn’t contain only snakes—there are ladders too! Who’s to say this throw won’t land on a ladder? Life is indeed like Snakes and Ladders, where the highest number isn’t necessarily the best. Perhaps I’d roll two sixes and then a five—totaling seventeen, the highest possible—yet still end up sliding down a long snake. But equally possible: rolling the smallest number, just one, and finding myself climbing rapidly up a ladder to great heights. Understanding the game of less is the most difficult thing of all! The highest number isn’t always the best. You must see how much is actually needed. Great income, great torment—what need is there for such a large sum? Knowing how to choose the right number for your life is a great art indeed!

I thought, why should I surrender before I’ve even lost? I’ll see this through to the end. At home, my parents were also saying, “Give up one of them.” My heart was telling me, “I won’t give up, not for anything!” Let me gamble with life this once and see what happens! You have to listen to your heart. I called the MBA Program Office. Zakir bhai was in charge there. He said, “IBA’s schedule doesn’t change for anyone. You change your schedule.” I said, “That’s not possible. You have several slots. BCS has only one.” Even after that he said, “It’s not possible in any way. We’re sorry!” Saying this, he hung up the phone, and my stubbornness only grew stronger. I put aside studying for the next day’s exam. After some inquiries, I learned that Rahi Sir was the Program Chairman for IBA’s MBA at the time. Only he could change my interview slot if he wanted to. Rahi Sir is an incredibly fierce person. IBA’s Marketing Department is the best in Bangladesh. Rahi Sir is the best faculty in that department. I got his number. The person I got the number from asked, “Are you really going to call Rahi Sir?” “Yes. Why?” “We students never dare to call Sir. And you’re going to call him for this?” “I will. I have to. My back is against the wall.” “God bless you, man! You better think twice.” I said, “Sometimes life doesn’t give you the opportunity to think twice. It’s the first and the only chance! I must grab it before it’s too late! I will call him. I’ll make my attempt—if it works, it works; if not, so be it. If I don’t try, it definitely won’t work. Thank you, bhai!” Right after finishing that conversation, without any second thoughts, I called Rahi Sir. A man with an extremely serious voice. It’s frightening just to speak with him. But I have nothing left to lose. I only know this: I passed IBA’s written exam and IBA has to conduct my interview. I had truly become reckless. I blurted out my entire problem in one breath. Rahi Sir said, “You silly kid! You’ve dared to call Rahi Sir for this! Did you think I am your friend? It’s not my business whether you can attend the viva board or not. You have only 2 choices: Leave IBA, or, Leave BCS.” To my infinite amazement, I heard myself saying, “Sir, I have called you to hear about the third choice. If you don’t have that, please make it for me. I know I’ll be at IBA.” Sir said very loudly over the phone, “You are a stupid little boy. You just know nothing about the things here! Don’t waste my time. I am busy!” “Sir, please give me a chance. I am………” I couldn’t make him hear any more—he hung up before that. I couldn’t understand what had happened, only felt an even stronger desire to believe that I would definitely study at IBA. BCS seemed to fade for a moment. Whatever happens in tomorrow’s exam will happen. Right now I need to sort out the IBA situation first. I called the program office again.

I asked, “When can I actually meet Rahi sir?” “What do you mean?” “Sir told me to come see him.” “Ask sir himself when you can actually meet him.” (I mustered the courage to lie….) “Sir said to call the program office and find out.” “He told you to ask us? Really! Alright, stay on the line, let me check sir’s class schedule.” Zakir bhai informed me that if I came next Friday evening, I could meet sir. Saying “thank you very much,” I hung up the phone and immediately left home to buy a bus ticket. From near Gariullah Shah’s shrine in Chittagong, I bought a ticket on Unique’s non-AC bus to Dhaka for Thursday night. The next day, under tremendous mental pressure, I took my Bangladesh Studies Paper 1 exam. Even in the exam hall, my mind kept racing: “Will Rahi sir keep his word?” In my answer sheet, I mistakenly wrote the word “Rahi” several times, though I crossed it out later.

I arrived at IBA before afternoon on Friday. I stood waiting in front of the MBA Program Office. Zakir bhai wasn’t there at the time—he came in the evening, two hours later. I went up and introduced myself. “Oh, I see, you’ve come from Chittagong. Rahi sir mentioned he would speak with you about changing your interview schedule? Really??” “Yes, he told me to come see him!” We were talking when Rahi sir arrived shortly after. He went straight through the program office into his room. A dignified man of serious disposition. His office was right next to the program office. Zakir bhai said, “Please sit on the sofa. Let me ask sir if he’s free right now.” When he told sir, “Someone named Sushanta Pal has come from Chittagong to see you—you had asked him to come,” sir immediately shouted quite loudly, “I didn’t ask anyone to come see me! Tell him to leave. Disgusting!” Zakir bhai told me, “Sir won’t see you. You should go.” “I’ll leave, but only after meeting with sir. Brother, I haven’t come here to turn back. I must see him.” Almost forcefully, I entered sir’s room without permission. After I said very politely, “Assalamu alaikum, sir,” he returned the greeting and said, “What do you want?” There were several other students in the room who had come to sir for various matters. “Sir, I called you the day before yesterday evening.” “Is it my duty to remember your call? Get out!” I said nothing and stood there with my head bowed. The words “Get out!” didn’t register in my mind. At that moment, I only knew that I would speak with Rahi sir about changing the schedule, and sir would surely agree to do so. After standing like this for nearly half an hour, sir said, “Why are you standing here like a statue?” I fearfully placed an application about changing the time slot on sir’s desk and began to say, “Sir, the day before yesterday I spoke with you on the phone…” “Speak in the language I am using now.” “Sir, my interview has been scheduled for next Monday at 10 in the morning. I am appearing for the 30th BCS written exam. I have an exam at the same time. So, I request you to shift my schedule to another convenient time slot.” “Sorry, we cannot.” “Please Sir! Otherwise, my dream to be here will be shattered.” “Let it be. Just go for BCS. You will do better being a civil servant.” “But Sir, it’s uncertain.” “Is being here certain for you?” “No Sir, that’s why I cannot leave any of these 2 opportunities. Please Sir, give me a chance. Do me a favour. I will be ever grateful, Sir.” “What time is your exam?” “10 o’clock, sir.” “How long?” “Three hours, sir.” “Okay fine, come straight here after your exam. Can you make it by 1:30?” I realized sir had forgotten that I’d come from Chittagong. “Sir, I’m taking the exam from Chittagong.” “Stupid! We cannot change our schedule for you! Are you Mr President?” “No Sir, I just want to be your student! I will do anything you tell me to do. Please give me a chance, Sir!” “Look, brother, you won’t be able to finish your exam at 1 o’clock and come from Chittagong to take the interview anyway.

You won’t make it even if you leave at 10 PM. The roads are in terrible condition, there’s heavy traffic.” “Sir, I can come in the evening.” “How? By plane?” “Yes, sir. Please give me a chance, sir.” “Alright. Don’t you have an exam the next day?” “I do, sir. I can manage. I’ll buy a return ticket.” “What time can you arrive?” “Whatever you say, sir.” “Your exam will end at 1 PM. Hmm… okay, can you make it to the 3 o’clock board?” “Yes sir, I can be there at 3.” “Do you know if there are flights at that time?” “I don’t know, sir. I’ll find out.” “I think there’s a flight around 3.” “What time can you arrive?” “4 o’clock, sir?” “Foolish boy! Your brain isn’t working. How can you take a 3 o’clock flight from Chittagong and get from the airport to IBA by 4? You have no idea about Dhaka city. Okay, you come by 5:15 sharp. You will be last person in that board. If you come after that, nothing can be done. The evening board is for Executive MBA. It won’t be possible to hold your viva there. Okay?” “Thank you, sir.” “Youngman, you have decided to play with your life! Best of luck!” “Please pray for me, sir. I can do this!” Tears came to my eyes. I realized that though this man appeared stern on the outside, he was very gentle within. I offered many prayers for the sir and left IBA. I went to Aziz and bought some books. Then I went to Fakirapul and took the 10 PM non-AC bus from Unique, reaching Chittagong in the morning.

I’m sharing the application with you:

15 January 2011

The Program Director, MBA Program

Institute of Business Administration

University of Dhaka

Dhaka

Subject: Prayer for changing the time slot of the interview schedule of the MBA Program Admission

Sir,

This letter expresses my earnest request to change my interview schedule of the MBA Program Admission 2010-2011. I am a candidate for Full-Time Course, my admit number is 2745 and I am on Interview Board 6 scheduled to be conducted at the 10:00 am to 1:00 pm time slot on January 17, 2011. I am appearing at the 30th BCS written examination and my Examination Centre is at Chittagong. I have an examination on January 17, 2011, coincided with the same time slot of the interview and so it is not possible for me to come from Chittagong and attend the interview at 10:00 am.

I will be highly obliged if you kindly permit me to attend the interview at the 6:00 pm to 8:30 pm time slot scheduled for Evening Board 3 and Evening Board 4 on January 17, 2011.

Yours faithfully

Sushanta Paul

I had never been on a plane before. I thought that wherever you go, you need a passport to fly. My elder brother called a friend who works with passport services and asked what documents are needed for an emergency passport to Dhaka. He burst out laughing! He said, “Buddy, what do you need a passport for? A plane and a bus are the same thing. One flies in the sky, the other runs on the road. That’s all there is to it! Just go buy a ticket. That’s it! Which one is good? You can go with GMG. That’s pretty good.” I didn’t know that you don’t have to rush to the airport to buy a plane ticket. I had no idea how much tickets cost. Getting off the bus in the morning, I went straight to a Dutch-Bangla Bank booth and withdrew ten thousand taka. Then I jumped into a CNG and rushed to the airport. I bought a ticket from the GMG Airlines counter for the 3:20 flight on Monday, the 17th. That was the first Chittagong-Dhaka flight of the afternoon. I booked a return ticket for the same day on the 7:45 evening flight. I felt like I could see it right before my eyes—me attending classes at IBA! Such a strange vision! I returned home with a victorious smile, almost as if I had already gotten into IBA! At night, I tried to prepare from various guides and the internet about what they might ask in the IBA interview. I studied for about 4-5 hours. At the same time, I posted a status on Facebook: How much time does it take to reach Dhaka University from Dhaka International Airport? Is it possible to reach in 40 minutes? Friends, any suggestion, please? I was truly a very simple person back then. I saw the world in very simple terms. Since I hadn’t visited Dhaka much, I didn’t know that in 2011 it wasn’t possible to get from the airport to Shahbag in 40 minutes. Everyone was saying it would take a minimum of two hours to get from the airport to the university campus in the afternoon. All sorts of bizarre comments came in reply to my status. Many started making fun of me. I’ll share some of my friends’ suggestions: “It’s possible if you run.” “It would be great if you jogged to the university. You’d get your evening exercise too!” “You shouldn’t have bought that plane ticket! With that money, if you had thrown us a party, we all would have prayed together and your BCS would have worked out! Hahahaha…..” “Young man! You’re young, just run as soon as you get off the plane! You’ll see, you’ll reach before time!” “Listen, such-and-such bus runs on such-and-such route. Hanging and sleeping, you’ll reach IBA just fine!” I got many such absurd comments. I knew absolutely nothing about Dhaka then. When you’re in trouble, doesn’t everyone have to give you a kick? It began to feel like that’s just how life is! People can’t extend a hand to pull you up, but they can certainly extend a foot to kick you down! Without getting the least bit discouraged by anyone’s words, I kept waiting to see if someone would give some good advice. I didn’t react to anyone’s reply that day. How helplessly calm a person becomes when in trouble. All I knew was this: “I’m giving my IBA interview on the 17th.” One person wrote, “You can go by bike. There’s no faster way to reach the university campus.” Some people even supported that idea. A few mentioned taxi cabs. Support was strongest for the bike option. Up until then, I had ridden a bike maybe 2-3 times in my entire life, counting generously. I didn’t really know anyone in Dhaka who had a bike, or if I did know someone, my mind wasn’t working at all then. Sometimes I think now, alas!

I couldn’t even afford to manage a bike at that time. I wrote, “My flight is scheduled to land at Dhaka Airport at 4.10 pm on 17 January. I must reach Dhaka University at or before 5.15 pm. I’ve an interview at IBA at that time. . . . Can’t I do it? Is it not possible? I need to do it at any cost. As I don’t know about the routes of Dhaka City, I’m asking for your help. Dhaka City is an unknown city to me. Can a taxi cab help me reach there in 1 hour? I can’t be late, otherwise I’ll miss the interview schedule. I’ve managed that schedule today through an application. . . Can a bike be a better solution? Or, something else? I’m in great trouble. . . .” After posting this, the mocking and laughter began all over again. I replied to the distinguished gentleman (one of Bangladesh’s most successful businessmen) who had advised me to jog there: “Thank you Sir for you ‘jogging’ suggestion. I was also seriously thinking of this option. Yes, I’ll surely manage to reach in time by vehicles, on foot, again by vehicles, again on foot . . . . And, I’ll go. I’ll be there in time by any means.” Someone said, “Change the schedule once more.” I wrote, “The schedule can’t be changed! Hopefully, there will happen some miracle and I’ll manage to avail the schedule in time.” A younger brother wrote, “Brother, you should go by taxi-cab. But you could try the bus once. Dhaka buses run quite well!” I replied, “Brother, I’m not surely making any attempt of getting on a bus! That’ll be horrible, you know. I was just seeking for a suggestion as I don’t know about the route. Thanks for the suggestion. I think a CNG powered taxi can help me in this regard. A taxi-cab is prone to getting stuck up in the congestion forever. A bike could be a better solution. But, I can’t manage it.”

Mrs. Zohra, whose name was Ira—an extremely distinguished lady—commented, “You need a bike?” “That would be wonderful.” “Alright, let me see what I can do.” She was the Deputy Managing Director of ONE Bank. After completing her studies in Chemistry from Chittagong University, she had done her MBA from IBA. She worked in the corporate sector, but there were very few people who didn’t know her. I have a sister. Her name is Sharmin Muiz Khan. At that time, she was one of those rare souls who loved someone as insignificant as me far more than necessary, showered me with affection for no particular reason. She was almost my mother’s age, but I addressed her as ‘tumi’ and she called me ‘tui’. She had studied English Literature at Dhaka University. She particularly loved my writing. She was a business magnate and had connections with many prominent people. I have rarely seen a lady as distinguished, refined, elegant, and utterly graceful as her. She commented, “Bappi, someone needs to grab you and give you a good thrashing. Are you enjoying confusing everyone by calling them all the time? Please stop wasting your time browsing Facebook and concentrate on tomorrow’s exam. Otherwise, you’re calling for another disaster. There is a saying: ‘Que sera, sera’ meaning: Whatever will be, will be. So, pray and try your best. I have given this opinion after a lot of serious thoughts. Please follow it. You will leave here right now. I don’t want to see you making even one more comment! MIRACLES HAPPEN IF YOU BELIEVE IN YOURSELF!” I replied, “Didi, things are that they’re. Things will be that they will be. And, between this two there lie some miracles that we’re never aware of. And, miracles are often stranger than facts. Facts are because they’re. Miracles are because we or someone else wants them to be. That’s the truth!” She called Mrs. Zohra. She said, “Look Ira, my brother has gotten into a bit of trouble. The poor thing is a simple soul, we should do something for him. Can’t you arrange a bike for him?” A little while later, I saw a message from Mrs. Zohra in my inbox: “Please give me your contact number. Regards” I gave it immediately. The call came within seconds. After introducing herself, she said, “You need a bike Monday at 4 PM, right?” “That would be wonderful.” “OK, a bike will be there for you at 4. My colleague Romel will pick you. Alright?” “I am truly, truly grateful. Thank you so very much!” “Let’s get the work done first, then you can thank me. I’m texting you Romel’s number. Take care.” She hung up immediately. I wrote to her: “Life is stranger than fiction, I repeat. From myself, I’ve got much less than I truly deserve. From others, I’ve got much more than I truly deserve. Is it the thing that they call miracle? I don’t know and never try to know. I let miracles happen and thankfully they always happen . . . . . . . Thank you for your generous approach. This really means a lot to me.” I wrote my piece. I don’t know if she ever read it or had the time to read it. Noble souls don’t wait for thanks. Besides, she was truly, truly busy.

He was the head of the credit section at One Bank. He had no reason to know a nobody like me, yet he knew me through my writing. Otherwise, I would never have had the privilege of speaking with him directly. And the fact that Sharmin didi had spoken to him about me—that was a big deal too. The next day was the Bangladesh Affairs Paper 2 exam. I went to sleep without studying any of it. The day after, straight from the exam hall, I went to the Westex showroom at Probortak intersection. My life’s first interview. I was incredibly excited! I had decided I’d go to the interview board wearing everything brand new. I bought a formal white shirt, black pants, black tie, black belt, black socks, white undershirt, and brown shoes. Later, from Gallery Apex I bought formal Oxford shoes, and from Time Zone a Titan wristwatch, then returned home in the evening. Seeing my antics, Ma was laughing. “Ma, why are you laughing?” “Just because, dear.” The funny thing was, Ma went with me to the exam hall every single day. She always kept me close, just like a child. Ma said, “Tomorrow I’m going to the airport with you.” And she did go—despite my protests.

Monday, the 17th. International Affairs exam. I couldn’t stay in the exam hall for the entire time due to nerves. I don’t have a car, what if the CNG takes too long to reach the airport! What if I miss the flight! The flight was at 3:20. And it takes at least 2 hours to reach the airport from Omar Gani MES College by 1 PM. Our written exam had been during winter. In the bitter cold, my fingers would freeze. Still, I kept rubbing my palms together to warm them, blowing hot breath into the hollow of my cupped hands, and wrote with all my strength. Instead of 1 o’clock, I finished the exam at 12:30, submitted my paper, and rushed out. When I emerged from the hall and reached the gate, everyone thought I must have been expelled! The intense stress was clearly written all over my face. Many showed me sympathy, told me not to worry, advised me to do better in the next BCS. I didn’t have time to respond. What could I say anyway—at that moment, life itself was one giant question mark for me! I don’t know what strength possessed my mother. She ran almost twice as fast as me, covering the distance from the college campus to the road. We got into a CNG without bargaining, paying nearly one and a half times the normal fare. I told the driver, “However you manage it, get us to the airport within two hours. If necessary, I’ll pay you extra.” It was 12:50 on the clock. The CNG started speeding. Mother opened the tiffin box and fed me khichuri, meat, and fried egg. One thought kept spinning in my head: “Will I catch the plane? If we get stuck in traffic, it’s all over!” I took off my sweater. I had left home that morning wearing my viva outfit, everything except the tie. After escaping two minor traffic jams, when we reached the airport, it was 5 minutes to 3. As soon as I got down, I touched my mother’s and aunt’s feet in respect (a distant aunt had come with us since mother couldn’t return home from the airport alone) and ran to the counter. There I learned that the flight was delayed by an hour due to dense fog. I thought, if the plane leaves at that time, there’s no way I can reach IBA by 5:15. I informed the counter staff about this. They said there was nothing they could do; they were very sorry. I inquired and learned that no other flights were departing at that time either. At that moment, I felt utterly helpless, just wanting to cry. I felt like I had no one, no one at all! I kept going from counter to counter. I found out there was a Bangladesh Biman flight departing at 3:45. There was no other flight before that. It was a bigger plane, taking 30 minutes to reach, whereas other planes take at least 40 minutes. Meaning, I would reach Dhaka airport by 4:15! I bought the ticket right then. There was great hope in my heart—if this one leaves on time, there’s nothing more to worry about. I went to the airport restroom and quickly put on my tie. I adjusted my shirt once more. Looking in the mirror, I fixed my hair with my hand. The clock hand crossed 4 after passing 3:45. The plane was delayed due to fog. We all boarded the plane at 4:15. It was my first time on a plane. I kept thinking, when will it take off, when will it take off! Every second felt like an hour! The tension was making it hard to breathe, yet the plane wouldn’t take off. I thought, oh! If only I could spend all my strength to make this plane soar into the sky! I pressed my handkerchief over my eyes to hide my tears. Finally, the plane took off. It was 4:37 on the clock. I was thinking, oh!

The plane could have taken off directly without taxiing! At least a couple of minutes would have been saved! The plane landed on Dhaka’s runway at 5:13.

I burst out of the domestic terminal running with all my might, and gasping for breath, I saw a motorcycle come to a stop right in front of me. “You’re Sushanta, right? Get on the back!” I extended my hand to shake hands with the young man in the black helmet. He didn’t raise his black-gloved right fist for a handshake. “Time’s wasting, brother! Please get on! Quick!” I didn’t argue further. “You’re not used to riding bikes, are you?” “Yes. How did you know?” “Brother, I’ve been riding bikes for the past 18-20 years. I can tell.” “I see.” “Lean forward and press your chest firmly against my back! You can even wrap your arms around me, otherwise you’ll get thrown off. For sure! I’m going to ride fast.” The way that bike tore out of the airport—I don’t have the courage to even think about it today. Under normal circumstances, I might have screamed in fear and told him to stop, or I really would have been thrown off. But at that moment I knew that being afraid was important, but far more important was reaching IBA alive. I don’t know if the wheels of that 150cc bike actually touched the ground that day, but for the second time in my life I understood this truth: you cannot frighten someone who stakes their life to touch their dreams. I had only seen bikes racing so recklessly on the roads in movies. The bike was literally cutting through the whooshing sound of wind, as if flying through the air! “Say brother, are you somebody really important?” “What do you mean?” “Well, Madam told me that one of her very important friends had to be delivered from the airport to IBA within half an hour, no matter what. That was her order! Who are you, brother? Hahahaha………” “I’m Madam’s Facebook friend.” “What are you saying, man? How’s that possible! I was thinking even more… you mean you’ve never even met her?” “No, brother. Why?” (There’s a railway crossing ahead. The barrier is coming down.) “Brother, duck your head a little.” Saying this, he quickly rode the bike under the barrier without obeying the signal. Many people behind us were shouting for us to stop. “Brother, just don’t be afraid. Nothing will happen. You can close your eyes if you want.” Right at that moment, while quickly emerging from between two trucks standing side by side, he said, “Sit a bit smaller, brother!” A little further ahead—massive traffic jam at a signal! Romel bhai lifted the bike onto the sidewalk. “Brother, please give way a little, give way a little,” he kept saying as he raced forward. He had to do this several times. Sometimes when riding on the central divider in the middle of the road, traffic police would catch us, and he’d say in a tearful voice, “Sir, my aunt is fighting for her life in the medical college. I’m going to donate blood. O-negative blood—we can’t find any. If I don’t reach on time, we won’t be able to save my aunt, sir!” He’d manage the police with this story and then race off at the same speed again! Whenever there was a traffic jam on the road, he’d immediately change to another road. That day I learned that when obstacles appear on the road, it doesn’t mean there is no road. Rather, it means you have to take a different road! Right now!! I had only seen such daredevil biking in Hollywood action movies. Looking at my hair in the bike’s mirror, it seemed as if it had stood up straight after an electric shock! My face was covered with dust from the city. In the fierce wind, my tie was flying behind me in the air. I don’t know if anyone has ever seen a bike race so recklessly through Dhaka’s roads during rush hour. But for some reason, I truly wasn’t afraid at all. I kept thinking over and over, “How quickly can one reach IBA!” Romel bhai had finished his honors and master’s from Dhaka College before joining the bank. I had asked him, “What’s your designation at the bank?” He had joked, “Not much, just 14 more promotions and I’ll be able to sit in Zohra Madam’s chair. Hahaha…….”

When I arrived in front of IBA, my watch showed 5:52. As I got down, I saw my younger brother Pappu and his friend Arefin standing there. At that time, I had my gift shop ‘Dobhana.’ Pappu and Arefin were my working partners. They often came to Dhaka from Chawk Bazaar in Old Dhaka to buy wholesale goods for the shop. I had withdrawn myself from the shop to focus on my BCS exam preparation. They ran everything. They were already in Dhaka on shop business. I had told them to go to the IBA MBA program office and keep me updated by phone about the viva board situation. Through repeated conversations with them, I was checking whether the interview board was still there, asking them to go to the program office and explain that I couldn’t arrive on time due to flight delays, terrible traffic jams, and so on. As soon as I got down, they informed me, “Bhaiya, the board left 4-5 minutes ago. Now only the Executive MBA viva remains.” After introducing them to Romel bhai, I rushed up to the MBA program office on the second floor. As soon as they saw me, everyone there stopped their work and looked at me. I saw Rahi Sir busy with something; he didn’t respond to my greeting. “Sir, I’m very late. Despite trying hard, I couldn’t arrive on time. I…” Without giving me a chance to say anything more, he shouted, “You Idiot! Get out!” “Sir, I…” “I said, Get out! Out! Out!! I knew very well that you wouldn’t be able to come on time. Is it possible to take one exam in Chittagong and then come to Dhaka for another exam? That easy? You’ve just wasted my time! I had told everyone that a boy from Chittagong would come at 5:15, and we needed to take his viva. Did you think I am a joker?” “Sir, I came here with great difficulty. The flight was delayed, there was heavy traffic on the road. I really…” “It’s none of my business! Get out! Go back where you came from.” “Sir, I had many dreams of studying at IBA.” “Everyone on the street has such dreams. I gave you a chance but you missed it. That’s all! Get out of here.” “Sir, please have some mercy…” (I felt like falling at his feet and crying…) Right beside him sat a gentle-looking gentleman much younger than the sir. He said, “Sir, I’ve heard about him. His younger brother kept coming to our program office. They had been standing in front of the office for hours. His flight was indeed delayed. And there’s heavy traffic in Dhaka today too. A friend of mine came to my room from the airport a while ago; it took him a long time to get here too. Give him a chance, Sir. He’s come so far, taking such risks with great difficulty! He apparently has another written exam tomorrow too. The poor fellow has to return to Chittagong today itself.” “Son, you junior faculty members don’t even know what you’re saying, what kind of requests you make. Why are you pleading for him? Is he your relative or something?” “No no Sir, I’m seeing him for the first time today. Just look at his face once, Sir. He’s really come here with great difficulty. Please do him a favor, Sir.” “You have no idea what you are talking about! Will the Executive MBA viva be the same as theirs? They have 3 years of job experience, while these are just children in comparison!

“This won’t be possible, brother. I am sorry!” “Sir, please help the poor fellow a bit. He’s come such a long way with so much hope!” “Son, we can’t manage anything more for you!” I stood a little distance away, head bowed. Looking at me, he called out loudly, “Hey, stupid! Why are you standing there like a donkey? Go on, go to the third floor! Go and stand there absolutely quietly. We’ll call you.” I truly couldn’t understand whether such a beautiful moment had ever come anywhere in this world before! Tears began streaming down my face. I prayed again and again from my heart for Babu sir. Rahi sir seemed like a father figure to me. I kept remembering mother’s words: “Never get angry at teachers’ scolding. When teachers scold, it means blessings.” Overwhelmed with emotion, as I was about to leave after thanking and saluting the teachers, Rahi sir called from behind, “Hey crazy boy! Comb your hair before entering the board! Wash your face at the basin! Don’t be so scared! Hahaha…” I couldn’t say anything more. I kept staring blankly at sir’s face. My cheeks were wet with tears from both eyes. Babu sir placed his hand on my shoulder and said, “Go on, go upstairs and wait. We are not that much bad people as you thought us to be. Sometimes even the IBA faculties are too good! Freshen up, give your interview properly, now there’s no tension anymore. What’s your exam tomorrow?” “Sir, Mathematical Reasoning and Mental Ability.” “How will you go?” “Sir, I have a return plane ticket.” “Good! Brother, splash some water on your eyes and face to fix your appearance. Give your viva quickly and rush to the airport! Good luck!” At that moment I felt like touching sir’s feet in salute. People get frightened by sudden intense love. For the first time, it suddenly struck me: “What if I can’t honor this love of my teachers? What if I don’t get a chance at IBA in the end?”

When we find ourselves in trouble, if our intentions are pure, a way out always emerges! I went to the washroom on the third floor and tried my best to “make myself presentable” by wetting my hair and smoothing it down. After splashing water on my face, I went and waited in front of the notice board. I was called after 10 minutes. It was nearly seven o’clock. When I entered the room, I saw many faculty members seated there. I hadn’t known that so many would be present for an interview. I thought this was perhaps how IBA interviews were conducted. I later learned that this entire panel had been assembled just for me. Apart from Babu Sir and Rahi Sir, I didn’t recognize anyone else. After getting admitted, I realized that those present that evening were IBA’s most senior and accomplished faculty members. The board included Saiful Majid Sir, Shama-e-Zahir Sir, Mamun Sir, Munir Khosru Sir, Niaz Sir, and Saif Noman Khan Sir. Most of the junior faculty had finished their interviews and gone home, while some senior faculty were in their offices conducting Executive MBA interviews. Some of them had been specially called in. I was in the interview for about 18-20 minutes. Many of the faculty members knew about my situation that day. I had heard of something called “divine possession” in life. At certain special moments, due to particular external influences or circumstances, people suddenly gain extraordinary power. In those moments, they step outside their normal state and display different behavior. They can harness the utmost potential of their inner infinite strength. In that wondrous balanced fusion of emotion and capability, the best version of themselves emerges. From the moment I entered the interview room, I had very likely become a different person, or perhaps the very best ‘me’ from within had emerged that day. By what divine signal this happened, I don’t know. No hesitation, doubt, nervousness, fear, the day’s exhaustion, or lethargy was affecting me at all. I felt incredibly composed and light as a feather. It felt as though whatever I was saying or doing was the best possible. I was experiencing the finest moment of my life right then and there. I can say with complete honesty that the style in which I spoke English that day—I have never in my entire life, even to this day, been able to speak English so flawlessly and fluently. That day the faculty members engaged in various kinds of humor during the interview. They were having great fun with me. Most likely, the faculty wanted to “shake me up” somehow. I don’t know why, by whose indication I don’t know, but I kept answering all their questions one by one with a very cool head and a smile that day. They interviewed me in English on various diverse topics, starting from describing the entire day’s events and the preceding Facebook incidents to many other subjects. (Of course, at IBA there’s absolutely no opportunity to give interviews in Bengali.) Why I wanted to pursue an MBA, why IBA if I was going to take government job exams anyway, my weaknesses, whether I’d ever been in love, how I spend my leisure time, some conversation about reading books, various economic issues of Bangladesh, some personal and family matters, my future plans, the breathless motorcycle journey from A to Z, the BCS examination system, why I went into engineering despite having no interest, why I delayed my honors degree, why I didn’t study properly, why my CGPA was so low, what I like to eat, what kind of personality I prefer in people, what I know about IBA, some current affairs, and several other questions. I was answering very quickly in correct English. The faculty praised this too. I gave a very simple, straightforward, and candid interview. I didn’t speak a single false word that day.

I didn’t need to think before speaking—whatever came to mind, I simply said, so there was no chance to fabricate lies. At the end, they asked me to sing a song. When I said, “I can’t, Sir,” Babu Sir showed me my info-form and laughed, saying, “But you’ve claimed so.” I had written Reading, Writing, Singing in the hobbies section… At that moment, it felt like I was living the best day of my life. I sang, “Aaj ei dintake…” “I see, we’re getting a singer for our cultural program!” As Saiful Majid Sir was saying this, Babu Sir interjected, “Sir, he has another exam tomorrow. He’ll probably be flying back to Chittagong tonight.” Then three or four teachers exclaimed in unison, “What! He’s going back to Chittagong right now? Well then, run along, run along! Go downstairs and see if your superman biker is there! Hahahaha…” As I was leaving with my salaam, the teachers called out, “Best of luck for your tomorrow’s exam.” I kept thinking, again and again—I’ll make it, I’ll make it! (Even after giving the BCS viva, I didn’t feel this good.)

When I stepped out of IBA, it was half past seven on the clock. I knew there was no way I could catch the 7:45 flight. I also knew that I had no idea how I would get to Chittagong that night. I didn’t even feel like thinking about it. Only the exhilarating rush of having given a good exam was coursing through me. Pappu and Arefin had been waiting for me at Madhu’s canteen. Taking them along, I went to the front of Dhaka University’s Central Library and leisurely began eating vegetable pakoras and tea. Many of my students studied in various departments at Dhaka University. Quite a few came to see me. They were asking what questions had been asked in the interview. After a day of incredible experiences, my head had become almost entirely empty. I couldn’t understand why I wasn’t feeling the slightest urgency to return to Chittagong. Pappu asked, “Brother, will you take the night bus?” I said, “Yes, that could work.” (It amuses me now to think how casually I had said ‘that could work’!) The road conditions weren’t good then either, there were always traffic jams. It didn’t even occur to me—what would happen if I couldn’t reach by 10 AM tomorrow? Ripon, a dear younger brother who lived in Chittagong and was one of my former students, said, “Brother, I have a non-AC train ticket; for Turna Nishitha, leaving tonight. It doesn’t matter if I don’t go to Chittagong today. Brother, you take it.” “Alright, fine,” I said, took the ticket, and set off toward Kamalapur Station. That night the train left nearly an hour and a half late. I didn’t even want to think about what was going to happen! I had already surrendered myself to fate long before. In my mind I kept repeating only this: whatever will be, will be. Whether I want it or not, it will happen. And whatever is happening is surely for the good; whatever will happen will surely be for the good too. Let’s see! After the day’s exhaustion, I had a very peaceful sleep. Suddenly I woke up hearing commotion around me. The train had stopped at Comilla. Apparently there was some problem with the line. We were delayed there for nearly two and a quarter hours. I couldn’t understand why I wasn’t feeling any kind of anxiety! I fell asleep again. Sleep is the world’s only faithful lover. Whenever I want it, I find it near. Never, under any circumstances, does it abandon me. There can be no purer love than the love for sleep.

When the train reached Chittagong railway station the next day, it was a quarter to ten in the morning. My exam was scheduled to start at ten. It takes only fifteen minutes to get from the station to my house. When I got home, I found my mother sitting there with everything ready in her hands—my pencil box, board, scale, pen, calculator, admit card, registration card, all of it. My parents had been terribly anxious at home. I hadn’t been able to speak to them since after half past one at night. My mobile had run out of charge. (I was using a cheap Nokia 1100 mobile set back then. Everyone called it the “national set”! It was so sturdy that many would joke, “Dude, you could crack jackfruit with that phone!” I’d tease my friends who used expensive mobiles, saying, “My phone’s model is ‘N Eleven Zero Zero’!”) As soon as my mother saw me, she said, “Dear, how are you? Will you take today’s exam?” I felt emotionally numb. It seemed as though I was lighter than a feather at that moment, floating around in some kind of trance! I smiled and said, “Ma, I’m perfectly fine. I’ll take the exam.” Saying this, I took the packed shopping bag from my mother’s hands and left the house just as I was. It was 10:05 on the clock. From our house to the exam center, it takes at least thirty minutes by CNG during office hours. When I reached the college gate, it was 10:43. That day was the mathematical reasoning and mental ability test. The first two hours were mathematical reasoning, followed by one hour of mental ability. The exam had already started forty-three minutes earlier. Naturally, the police wouldn’t let me enter. I pleaded extensively, kept trying futilely to explain what had happened, but they weren’t willing to listen to anything. But I had made up my mind—I wasn’t going to turn back, I would get inside no matter what. A small commotion started gathering there. Seeing the crowd, the magistrate came over. After hearing my entire story, he said, “You only have one hour left. Can you finish all the math problems in this time?” Without a moment’s hesitation, I said, “I can, sir!” “Alright, go ahead. Good luck!” My heart overflowed with gratitude toward him. At that moment, he seemed to me not human, but divine! I went in, looked at the questions, took the exam. I even showed three problems to the person sitting next to me. (He got a job in Audit and Accounts in the 30th batch.) I scored 98 on that day’s exam—50 in math, 48 in mental ability. After that… well, as everyone says—the rest is history!

But this much is true: had that day’s exam been something other than mathematics, I would have been in real trouble. I can handle math because the type of problems that appeared in the BCS written exam back then weren’t particularly difficult for me to solve. Such problems don’t strain the mind much, and the 30th BCS written exam featured relatively easy math. Even if I worked through each step carefully and added side notes, it shouldn’t have taken more than half an hour. It didn’t for me either. However, spending two and a half hours on the International Affairs exam the day before had been risky. Actually, no matter how incredible the whole affair might seem, everything appears to have been predetermined by the Creator or nature itself. What remains inexplicable to our limited understanding is simply a natural, ordinary occurrence for the Creator. All our failures and successes are already decided beforehand. But to reach that point, the effort—or making the right decision at the right time—that we must do ourselves. I wasn’t even supposed to pass my undergraduate degree. Yet it was my destiny to complete my undergraduate studies, become a BCS cadre, study at IBA—all of it was written in my fate. Had my destiny been bound elsewhere, I would have gone there instead. I had enrolled in another master’s program under Dhaka University—MDS. After continuing that course for three months, I left it of my own accord. They had said I would need to officially hide the fact that I was simultaneously pursuing another master’s at IBA. I refused to lie. I harbor no regret about this, though. I’ve accepted that pursuing that particular master’s degree simply wasn’t written in my destiny. This is the truth, this is reality. I had gained admission to Dhaka University’s Evening MBA program in Finance, ranking sixth on the merit list, but never had to attend classes there. I received my IBA admission test results before that. I did complete my master’s in Finance from Dhaka University, but the Evening MBA program wasn’t destined for me, so I didn’t pursue my master’s degree from there.

Stepping into two boats in the middle of a river ensures certain death. Logic dictates this. But I placed my feet in two boats, taking the maximum risk—I had no other choice—yet both boats moved forward in parallel at the same speed at the same time, so I didn’t slip between them and lose my life. What explanation could there be for this? Life doesn’t follow logic; life follows the Creator’s signals. Life doesn’t always operate according to explanations. Sometimes life moves on faith. So there’s nothing to say about anyone’s personal philosophy and the life they live according to their beliefs, as long as that life doesn’t interfere with someone else’s way of living. Somewhere, no explicable form of life can be seen, and life is just like this!

Through sheer mental strength alone, I had believed that some miracle would surely occur. It did happen, because in Providence’s master plan, that’s what was meant to happen. Everything in between was the Creator’s games or plans to test my patience and concentration. You will never be given a gift you don’t deserve. You will be tested, and if you fail to pass that test, you will deprive yourself of the Creator’s grace through your own fault. I’m sharing with you the Facebook status I posted after the IBA admission test results came out, along with a couple of my own comments on it:

Friends, I’ve been finally selected for admission into the MBA Program of IBA, Dhaka University. …… feeling happy. ……. HATS OFF to Sharmeen didi, Ira madam & Romel bhai!!

# My dear friends….. Your gorgeous presence on my wall makes me think twice about the POWER of friendship & the MAGIC of love. YES……… They matter!! I just want to be with you forever. Please never say GOODBYE…. It hurts!! Your kindness and care mean a lot to me. You’ve always given me much more than I really deserve. Please accept my sincere GRATITUDE.

Happy Social Networking!!

Long live Facebook!!

My best wishes for our Friendship!!

……… Love you all ……

# (To one of my close friends) Dost, not reaching the Interview Session on 17 January at 5:30 pm was what I thought to be….. reaching there in time was what was written in my DESTINY….. And, I ended up calling it a MIRACLE, something I never believed in before…… Just have a look at the schedule of 17 January……

International Affairs Exam (BCS written exam)…. 10:00 am — 1:00 pm

The departure time of the GMG Airlines: 3:20 pm, there was a delay of about 1 hour due to fog and I availed another delayed flight of Bangladesh Biman at 4:37 pm.

The plane landed on Dhaka Airport at 5:13 pm and then I started my fight against time to meet the deadline by bike with Romel bhai!! Who managed those three saviours (Sharmeen didi, Ira madam & Romel bhai) for me? I don’t know. You better ask the Heaven! I saw such a breath-taking motor-bike driving only in English movies. Before that day, I had never thought I would experience it!!

Life is sometimes stranger than fiction . . . . Who can tell it better than I?

# (To one of my senior high-profile Indian friends) Thank you Sir for your words of felicitation. IBA of Dhaka University is considered as the most prestigious institute for doing MBA in Bangladesh. As per the rules of that Business School, the Major/Field of Specialization is allowed to be chosen at the final semester judging the academic records & intention of a candidate. I don’t have much idea about what to choose and why to choose. Please share some ideas on it as you’ve huge practical knowledge (so far as I know) about the present corporate trend.

You’ve nicely stated the trend of our careerist B-school graduates. No one really cares about their own aptitude, rather, tries to be what market wants them to be. Personally, I always like the decision-making and mainstream operational sections of giant companies. And, probably I’ll go for finance as my major when I’ve to choose it in my final semester. Yes, my semester results must be well enough to work on my advantage. That’ll be a story of one and a half years later. Till then, I’ll have to undergo the generalized curriculum as my B-school formulates. The recent economic recession worries our friends studying at the US universities. And, almost all of them suggest me not to plan of staying there. But at the same time, they suggest me completing my PhD in the US if I want to and grab that opportunity. Let’s wait and see. . . . . Are you in India now? Hope you’re quite OK along with your busy schedule. Please, sometimes give me your valuable suggestions when you’ve time and you’re here on Facebook. . . . . Thank you once again for your helpful advice. Take care.

In explaining the final part of the status shared above, I had written these words:

Let me share the Story behind the Story and elucidate the last part of my status. It would have been quite impossible for me to reach Dhaka University from Dhaka International Airport within just 50 minutes (!!) to attend the interview session of IBA in time on Jan 17, but for the cordial help of Sharmeen didi (Sharmeen Muiz) & Ira madam (Johora Bebe Ira). They’re the persons who made that miracle happen!! And, Romel bhai (Monirul Alam Romel) is the “Man with the Bike” who dared fight against time to meet the deadline!! ……. I feel honoured to express my heartfelt gratitude to these three saviours. …….. Miracles Happen When You Believe!!

I conclude this piece with a beautifully strange comment Sharmeen didi made on that status: “My prayers, good wishes, and prayers remain with you. Dear brother of mine, may you grow to great heights. And may the successful reflection of our efforts (Ira’s and mine) shine through in everything you do. I was there, I am here, I will be there. …….. Heaps of hugs and love.”

What sustains a human being? We live on love, on prayers, on good wishes. These are what keep me alive—quite well alive, in fact. My gratitude!

P.S. Let me offer you some practical wisdom. Those who think they know too much, who consider themselves supremely intelligent, who speak in grand terms without any real qualifications or notable position, who try to diminish others even through outright lies, who pontificate without knowledge, who speak to you in such a manner that you begin to doubt your own confidence—I would advise you to absolutely, absolutely, and absolutely avoid such people. They themselves cannot go very far in life, nor will they allow you to go very far either.

(Written 2-3 years ago)

I thought, why should I surrender before I’ve even lost? I’ll see this through to the end. At home, my parents were also saying, “Give up one of them.” My heart was telling me, “I won’t give up, not for anything!” Let me gamble with life this once and see what happens! You have to listen to your heart. I called the MBA Program Office. Zakir bhai was in charge there. He said, “IBA’s schedule doesn’t change for anyone. You change your schedule.” I said, “That’s not possible. You have several slots. BCS has only one.” Even after that he said, “It’s not possible in any way. We’re sorry!” Saying this, he hung up the phone, and my stubbornness only grew stronger. I put aside studying for the next day’s exam. After some inquiries, I learned that Rahi Sir was the Program Chairman for IBA’s MBA at the time. Only he could change my interview slot if he wanted to. Rahi Sir is an incredibly fierce person. IBA’s Marketing Department is the best in Bangladesh. Rahi Sir is the best faculty in that department. I got his number. The person I got the number from asked, “Are you really going to call Rahi Sir?” “Yes. Why?” “We students never dare to call Sir. And you’re going to call him for this?” “I will. I have to. My back is against the wall.” “God bless you, man! You better think twice.” I said, “Sometimes life doesn’t give you the opportunity to think twice. It’s the first and the only chance! I must grab it before it’s too late! I will call him. I’ll make my attempt—if it works, it works; if not, so be it. If I don’t try, it definitely won’t work. Thank you, bhai!” Right after finishing that conversation, without any second thoughts, I called Rahi Sir. A man with an extremely serious voice. It’s frightening just to speak with him. But I have nothing left to lose. I only know this: I passed IBA’s written exam and IBA has to conduct my interview. I had truly become reckless. I blurted out my entire problem in one breath. Rahi Sir said, “You silly kid! You’ve dared to call Rahi Sir for this! Did you think I am your friend? It’s not my business whether you can attend the viva board or not. You have only 2 choices: Leave IBA, or, Leave BCS.” To my infinite amazement, I heard myself saying, “Sir, I have called you to hear about the third choice. If you don’t have that, please make it for me. I know I’ll be at IBA.” Sir said very loudly over the phone, “You are a stupid little boy. You just know nothing about the things here! Don’t waste my time. I am busy!” “Sir, please give me a chance. I am………” I couldn’t make him hear any more—he hung up before that. I couldn’t understand what had happened, only felt an even stronger desire to believe that I would definitely study at IBA. BCS seemed to fade for a moment. Whatever happens in tomorrow’s exam will happen. Right now I need to sort out the IBA situation first. I called the program office again.

I asked, “When can I actually meet Rahi sir?” “What do you mean?” “Sir told me to come see him.” “Ask sir himself when you can actually meet him.” (I mustered the courage to lie….) “Sir said to call the program office and find out.” “He told you to ask us? Really! Alright, stay on the line, let me check sir’s class schedule.” Zakir bhai informed me that if I came next Friday evening, I could meet sir. Saying “thank you very much,” I hung up the phone and immediately left home to buy a bus ticket. From near Gariullah Shah’s shrine in Chittagong, I bought a ticket on Unique’s non-AC bus to Dhaka for Thursday night. The next day, under tremendous mental pressure, I took my Bangladesh Studies Paper 1 exam. Even in the exam hall, my mind kept racing: “Will Rahi sir keep his word?” In my answer sheet, I mistakenly wrote the word “Rahi” several times, though I crossed it out later.

I arrived at IBA before afternoon on Friday. I stood waiting in front of the MBA Program Office. Zakir bhai wasn’t there at the time—he came in the evening, two hours later. I went up and introduced myself. “Oh, I see, you’ve come from Chittagong. Rahi sir mentioned he would speak with you about changing your interview schedule? Really??” “Yes, he told me to come see him!” We were talking when Rahi sir arrived shortly after. He went straight through the program office into his room. A dignified man of serious disposition. His office was right next to the program office. Zakir bhai said, “Please sit on the sofa. Let me ask sir if he’s free right now.” When he told sir, “Someone named Sushanta Pal has come from Chittagong to see you—you had asked him to come,” sir immediately shouted quite loudly, “I didn’t ask anyone to come see me! Tell him to leave. Disgusting!” Zakir bhai told me, “Sir won’t see you. You should go.” “I’ll leave, but only after meeting with sir. Brother, I haven’t come here to turn back. I must see him.” Almost forcefully, I entered sir’s room without permission. After I said very politely, “Assalamu alaikum, sir,” he returned the greeting and said, “What do you want?” There were several other students in the room who had come to sir for various matters. “Sir, I called you the day before yesterday evening.” “Is it my duty to remember your call? Get out!” I said nothing and stood there with my head bowed. The words “Get out!” didn’t register in my mind. At that moment, I only knew that I would speak with Rahi sir about changing the schedule, and sir would surely agree to do so. After standing like this for nearly half an hour, sir said, “Why are you standing here like a statue?” I fearfully placed an application about changing the time slot on sir’s desk and began to say, “Sir, the day before yesterday I spoke with you on the phone…” “Speak in the language I am using now.” “Sir, my interview has been scheduled for next Monday at 10 in the morning. I am appearing for the 30th BCS written exam. I have an exam at the same time. So, I request you to shift my schedule to another convenient time slot.” “Sorry, we cannot.” “Please Sir! Otherwise, my dream to be here will be shattered.” “Let it be. Just go for BCS. You will do better being a civil servant.” “But Sir, it’s uncertain.” “Is being here certain for you?” “No Sir, that’s why I cannot leave any of these 2 opportunities. Please Sir, give me a chance. Do me a favour. I will be ever grateful, Sir.” “What time is your exam?” “10 o’clock, sir.” “How long?” “Three hours, sir.” “Okay fine, come straight here after your exam. Can you make it by 1:30?” I realized sir had forgotten that I’d come from Chittagong. “Sir, I’m taking the exam from Chittagong.” “Stupid! We cannot change our schedule for you! Are you Mr President?” “No Sir, I just want to be your student! I will do anything you tell me to do. Please give me a chance, Sir!” “Look, brother, you won’t be able to finish your exam at 1 o’clock and come from Chittagong to take the interview anyway.

You won’t make it even if you leave at 10 PM. The roads are in terrible condition, there’s heavy traffic.” “Sir, I can come in the evening.” “How? By plane?” “Yes, sir. Please give me a chance, sir.” “Alright. Don’t you have an exam the next day?” “I do, sir. I can manage. I’ll buy a return ticket.” “What time can you arrive?” “Whatever you say, sir.” “Your exam will end at 1 PM. Hmm… okay, can you make it to the 3 o’clock board?” “Yes sir, I can be there at 3.” “Do you know if there are flights at that time?” “I don’t know, sir. I’ll find out.” “I think there’s a flight around 3.” “What time can you arrive?” “4 o’clock, sir?” “Foolish boy! Your brain isn’t working. How can you take a 3 o’clock flight from Chittagong and get from the airport to IBA by 4? You have no idea about Dhaka city. Okay, you come by 5:15 sharp. You will be last person in that board. If you come after that, nothing can be done. The evening board is for Executive MBA. It won’t be possible to hold your viva there. Okay?” “Thank you, sir.” “Youngman, you have decided to play with your life! Best of luck!” “Please pray for me, sir. I can do this!” Tears came to my eyes. I realized that though this man appeared stern on the outside, he was very gentle within. I offered many prayers for the sir and left IBA. I went to Aziz and bought some books. Then I went to Fakirapul and took the 10 PM non-AC bus from Unique, reaching Chittagong in the morning.

I’m sharing the application with you:

15 January 2011

The Program Director, MBA Program

Institute of Business Administration

University of Dhaka

Dhaka

Subject: Prayer for changing the time slot of the interview schedule of the MBA Program Admission

Sir,

This letter expresses my earnest request to change my interview schedule of the MBA Program Admission 2010-2011. I am a candidate for Full-Time Course, my admit number is 2745 and I am on Interview Board 6 scheduled to be conducted at the 10:00 am to 1:00 pm time slot on January 17, 2011. I am appearing at the 30th BCS written examination and my Examination Centre is at Chittagong. I have an examination on January 17, 2011, coincided with the same time slot of the interview and so it is not possible for me to come from Chittagong and attend the interview at 10:00 am.

I will be highly obliged if you kindly permit me to attend the interview at the 6:00 pm to 8:30 pm time slot scheduled for Evening Board 3 and Evening Board 4 on January 17, 2011.

Yours faithfully

Sushanta Paul

I had never been on a plane before. I thought that wherever you go, you need a passport to fly. My elder brother called a friend who works with passport services and asked what documents are needed for an emergency passport to Dhaka. He burst out laughing! He said, “Buddy, what do you need a passport for? A plane and a bus are the same thing. One flies in the sky, the other runs on the road. That’s all there is to it! Just go buy a ticket. That’s it! Which one is good? You can go with GMG. That’s pretty good.” I didn’t know that you don’t have to rush to the airport to buy a plane ticket. I had no idea how much tickets cost. Getting off the bus in the morning, I went straight to a Dutch-Bangla Bank booth and withdrew ten thousand taka. Then I jumped into a CNG and rushed to the airport. I bought a ticket from the GMG Airlines counter for the 3:20 flight on Monday, the 17th. That was the first Chittagong-Dhaka flight of the afternoon. I booked a return ticket for the same day on the 7:45 evening flight. I felt like I could see it right before my eyes—me attending classes at IBA! Such a strange vision! I returned home with a victorious smile, almost as if I had already gotten into IBA! At night, I tried to prepare from various guides and the internet about what they might ask in the IBA interview. I studied for about 4-5 hours. At the same time, I posted a status on Facebook: How much time does it take to reach Dhaka University from Dhaka International Airport? Is it possible to reach in 40 minutes? Friends, any suggestion, please? I was truly a very simple person back then. I saw the world in very simple terms. Since I hadn’t visited Dhaka much, I didn’t know that in 2011 it wasn’t possible to get from the airport to Shahbag in 40 minutes. Everyone was saying it would take a minimum of two hours to get from the airport to the university campus in the afternoon. All sorts of bizarre comments came in reply to my status. Many started making fun of me. I’ll share some of my friends’ suggestions: “It’s possible if you run.” “It would be great if you jogged to the university. You’d get your evening exercise too!” “You shouldn’t have bought that plane ticket! With that money, if you had thrown us a party, we all would have prayed together and your BCS would have worked out! Hahahaha…..” “Young man! You’re young, just run as soon as you get off the plane! You’ll see, you’ll reach before time!” “Listen, such-and-such bus runs on such-and-such route. Hanging and sleeping, you’ll reach IBA just fine!” I got many such absurd comments. I knew absolutely nothing about Dhaka then. When you’re in trouble, doesn’t everyone have to give you a kick? It began to feel like that’s just how life is! People can’t extend a hand to pull you up, but they can certainly extend a foot to kick you down! Without getting the least bit discouraged by anyone’s words, I kept waiting to see if someone would give some good advice. I didn’t react to anyone’s reply that day. How helplessly calm a person becomes when in trouble. All I knew was this: “I’m giving my IBA interview on the 17th.” One person wrote, “You can go by bike. There’s no faster way to reach the university campus.” Some people even supported that idea. A few mentioned taxi cabs. Support was strongest for the bike option. Up until then, I had ridden a bike maybe 2-3 times in my entire life, counting generously. I didn’t really know anyone in Dhaka who had a bike, or if I did know someone, my mind wasn’t working at all then. Sometimes I think now, alas!

I couldn’t even afford to manage a bike at that time. I wrote, “My flight is scheduled to land at Dhaka Airport at 4.10 pm on 17 January. I must reach Dhaka University at or before 5.15 pm. I’ve an interview at IBA at that time. . . . Can’t I do it? Is it not possible? I need to do it at any cost. As I don’t know about the routes of Dhaka City, I’m asking for your help. Dhaka City is an unknown city to me. Can a taxi cab help me reach there in 1 hour? I can’t be late, otherwise I’ll miss the interview schedule. I’ve managed that schedule today through an application. . . Can a bike be a better solution? Or, something else? I’m in great trouble. . . .” After posting this, the mocking and laughter began all over again. I replied to the distinguished gentleman (one of Bangladesh’s most successful businessmen) who had advised me to jog there: “Thank you Sir for you ‘jogging’ suggestion. I was also seriously thinking of this option. Yes, I’ll surely manage to reach in time by vehicles, on foot, again by vehicles, again on foot . . . . And, I’ll go. I’ll be there in time by any means.” Someone said, “Change the schedule once more.” I wrote, “The schedule can’t be changed! Hopefully, there will happen some miracle and I’ll manage to avail the schedule in time.” A younger brother wrote, “Brother, you should go by taxi-cab. But you could try the bus once. Dhaka buses run quite well!” I replied, “Brother, I’m not surely making any attempt of getting on a bus! That’ll be horrible, you know. I was just seeking for a suggestion as I don’t know about the route. Thanks for the suggestion. I think a CNG powered taxi can help me in this regard. A taxi-cab is prone to getting stuck up in the congestion forever. A bike could be a better solution. But, I can’t manage it.”

Mrs. Zohra, whose name was Ira—an extremely distinguished lady—commented, “You need a bike?” “That would be wonderful.” “Alright, let me see what I can do.” She was the Deputy Managing Director of ONE Bank. After completing her studies in Chemistry from Chittagong University, she had done her MBA from IBA. She worked in the corporate sector, but there were very few people who didn’t know her. I have a sister. Her name is Sharmin Muiz Khan. At that time, she was one of those rare souls who loved someone as insignificant as me far more than necessary, showered me with affection for no particular reason. She was almost my mother’s age, but I addressed her as ‘tumi’ and she called me ‘tui’. She had studied English Literature at Dhaka University. She particularly loved my writing. She was a business magnate and had connections with many prominent people. I have rarely seen a lady as distinguished, refined, elegant, and utterly graceful as her. She commented, “Bappi, someone needs to grab you and give you a good thrashing. Are you enjoying confusing everyone by calling them all the time? Please stop wasting your time browsing Facebook and concentrate on tomorrow’s exam. Otherwise, you’re calling for another disaster. There is a saying: ‘Que sera, sera’ meaning: Whatever will be, will be. So, pray and try your best. I have given this opinion after a lot of serious thoughts. Please follow it. You will leave here right now. I don’t want to see you making even one more comment! MIRACLES HAPPEN IF YOU BELIEVE IN YOURSELF!” I replied, “Didi, things are that they’re. Things will be that they will be. And, between this two there lie some miracles that we’re never aware of. And, miracles are often stranger than facts. Facts are because they’re. Miracles are because we or someone else wants them to be. That’s the truth!” She called Mrs. Zohra. She said, “Look Ira, my brother has gotten into a bit of trouble. The poor thing is a simple soul, we should do something for him. Can’t you arrange a bike for him?” A little while later, I saw a message from Mrs. Zohra in my inbox: “Please give me your contact number. Regards” I gave it immediately. The call came within seconds. After introducing herself, she said, “You need a bike Monday at 4 PM, right?” “That would be wonderful.” “OK, a bike will be there for you at 4. My colleague Romel will pick you. Alright?” “I am truly, truly grateful. Thank you so very much!” “Let’s get the work done first, then you can thank me. I’m texting you Romel’s number. Take care.” She hung up immediately. I wrote to her: “Life is stranger than fiction, I repeat. From myself, I’ve got much less than I truly deserve. From others, I’ve got much more than I truly deserve. Is it the thing that they call miracle? I don’t know and never try to know. I let miracles happen and thankfully they always happen . . . . . . . Thank you for your generous approach. This really means a lot to me.” I wrote my piece. I don’t know if she ever read it or had the time to read it. Noble souls don’t wait for thanks. Besides, she was truly, truly busy.

He was the head of the credit section at One Bank. He had no reason to know a nobody like me, yet he knew me through my writing. Otherwise, I would never have had the privilege of speaking with him directly. And the fact that Sharmin didi had spoken to him about me—that was a big deal too. The next day was the Bangladesh Affairs Paper 2 exam. I went to sleep without studying any of it. The day after, straight from the exam hall, I went to the Westex showroom at Probortak intersection. My life’s first interview. I was incredibly excited! I had decided I’d go to the interview board wearing everything brand new. I bought a formal white shirt, black pants, black tie, black belt, black socks, white undershirt, and brown shoes. Later, from Gallery Apex I bought formal Oxford shoes, and from Time Zone a Titan wristwatch, then returned home in the evening. Seeing my antics, Ma was laughing. “Ma, why are you laughing?” “Just because, dear.” The funny thing was, Ma went with me to the exam hall every single day. She always kept me close, just like a child. Ma said, “Tomorrow I’m going to the airport with you.” And she did go—despite my protests.

Monday, the 17th. International Affairs exam. I couldn’t stay in the exam hall for the entire time due to nerves. I don’t have a car, what if the CNG takes too long to reach the airport! What if I miss the flight! The flight was at 3:20. And it takes at least 2 hours to reach the airport from Omar Gani MES College by 1 PM. Our written exam had been during winter. In the bitter cold, my fingers would freeze. Still, I kept rubbing my palms together to warm them, blowing hot breath into the hollow of my cupped hands, and wrote with all my strength. Instead of 1 o’clock, I finished the exam at 12:30, submitted my paper, and rushed out. When I emerged from the hall and reached the gate, everyone thought I must have been expelled! The intense stress was clearly written all over my face. Many showed me sympathy, told me not to worry, advised me to do better in the next BCS. I didn’t have time to respond. What could I say anyway—at that moment, life itself was one giant question mark for me! I don’t know what strength possessed my mother. She ran almost twice as fast as me, covering the distance from the college campus to the road. We got into a CNG without bargaining, paying nearly one and a half times the normal fare. I told the driver, “However you manage it, get us to the airport within two hours. If necessary, I’ll pay you extra.” It was 12:50 on the clock. The CNG started speeding. Mother opened the tiffin box and fed me khichuri, meat, and fried egg. One thought kept spinning in my head: “Will I catch the plane? If we get stuck in traffic, it’s all over!” I took off my sweater. I had left home that morning wearing my viva outfit, everything except the tie. After escaping two minor traffic jams, when we reached the airport, it was 5 minutes to 3. As soon as I got down, I touched my mother’s and aunt’s feet in respect (a distant aunt had come with us since mother couldn’t return home from the airport alone) and ran to the counter. There I learned that the flight was delayed by an hour due to dense fog. I thought, if the plane leaves at that time, there’s no way I can reach IBA by 5:15. I informed the counter staff about this. They said there was nothing they could do; they were very sorry. I inquired and learned that no other flights were departing at that time either. At that moment, I felt utterly helpless, just wanting to cry. I felt like I had no one, no one at all! I kept going from counter to counter. I found out there was a Bangladesh Biman flight departing at 3:45. There was no other flight before that. It was a bigger plane, taking 30 minutes to reach, whereas other planes take at least 40 minutes. Meaning, I would reach Dhaka airport by 4:15! I bought the ticket right then. There was great hope in my heart—if this one leaves on time, there’s nothing more to worry about. I went to the airport restroom and quickly put on my tie. I adjusted my shirt once more. Looking in the mirror, I fixed my hair with my hand. The clock hand crossed 4 after passing 3:45. The plane was delayed due to fog. We all boarded the plane at 4:15. It was my first time on a plane. I kept thinking, when will it take off, when will it take off! Every second felt like an hour! The tension was making it hard to breathe, yet the plane wouldn’t take off. I thought, oh! If only I could spend all my strength to make this plane soar into the sky! I pressed my handkerchief over my eyes to hide my tears. Finally, the plane took off. It was 4:37 on the clock. I was thinking, oh!

The plane could have taken off directly without taxiing! At least a couple of minutes would have been saved! The plane landed on Dhaka’s runway at 5:13.

I burst out of the domestic terminal running with all my might, and gasping for breath, I saw a motorcycle come to a stop right in front of me. “You’re Sushanta, right? Get on the back!” I extended my hand to shake hands with the young man in the black helmet. He didn’t raise his black-gloved right fist for a handshake. “Time’s wasting, brother! Please get on! Quick!” I didn’t argue further. “You’re not used to riding bikes, are you?” “Yes. How did you know?” “Brother, I’ve been riding bikes for the past 18-20 years. I can tell.” “I see.” “Lean forward and press your chest firmly against my back! You can even wrap your arms around me, otherwise you’ll get thrown off. For sure! I’m going to ride fast.” The way that bike tore out of the airport—I don’t have the courage to even think about it today. Under normal circumstances, I might have screamed in fear and told him to stop, or I really would have been thrown off. But at that moment I knew that being afraid was important, but far more important was reaching IBA alive. I don’t know if the wheels of that 150cc bike actually touched the ground that day, but for the second time in my life I understood this truth: you cannot frighten someone who stakes their life to touch their dreams. I had only seen bikes racing so recklessly on the roads in movies. The bike was literally cutting through the whooshing sound of wind, as if flying through the air! “Say brother, are you somebody really important?” “What do you mean?” “Well, Madam told me that one of her very important friends had to be delivered from the airport to IBA within half an hour, no matter what. That was her order! Who are you, brother? Hahahaha………” “I’m Madam’s Facebook friend.” “What are you saying, man? How’s that possible! I was thinking even more… you mean you’ve never even met her?” “No, brother. Why?” (There’s a railway crossing ahead. The barrier is coming down.) “Brother, duck your head a little.” Saying this, he quickly rode the bike under the barrier without obeying the signal. Many people behind us were shouting for us to stop. “Brother, just don’t be afraid. Nothing will happen. You can close your eyes if you want.” Right at that moment, while quickly emerging from between two trucks standing side by side, he said, “Sit a bit smaller, brother!” A little further ahead—massive traffic jam at a signal! Romel bhai lifted the bike onto the sidewalk. “Brother, please give way a little, give way a little,” he kept saying as he raced forward. He had to do this several times. Sometimes when riding on the central divider in the middle of the road, traffic police would catch us, and he’d say in a tearful voice, “Sir, my aunt is fighting for her life in the medical college. I’m going to donate blood. O-negative blood—we can’t find any. If I don’t reach on time, we won’t be able to save my aunt, sir!” He’d manage the police with this story and then race off at the same speed again! Whenever there was a traffic jam on the road, he’d immediately change to another road. That day I learned that when obstacles appear on the road, it doesn’t mean there is no road. Rather, it means you have to take a different road! Right now!! I had only seen such daredevil biking in Hollywood action movies. Looking at my hair in the bike’s mirror, it seemed as if it had stood up straight after an electric shock! My face was covered with dust from the city. In the fierce wind, my tie was flying behind me in the air. I don’t know if anyone has ever seen a bike race so recklessly through Dhaka’s roads during rush hour. But for some reason, I truly wasn’t afraid at all. I kept thinking over and over, “How quickly can one reach IBA!” Romel bhai had finished his honors and master’s from Dhaka College before joining the bank. I had asked him, “What’s your designation at the bank?” He had joked, “Not much, just 14 more promotions and I’ll be able to sit in Zohra Madam’s chair. Hahaha…….”

When I arrived in front of IBA, my watch showed 5:52. As I got down, I saw my younger brother Pappu and his friend Arefin standing there. At that time, I had my gift shop ‘Dobhana.’ Pappu and Arefin were my working partners. They often came to Dhaka from Chawk Bazaar in Old Dhaka to buy wholesale goods for the shop. I had withdrawn myself from the shop to focus on my BCS exam preparation. They ran everything. They were already in Dhaka on shop business. I had told them to go to the IBA MBA program office and keep me updated by phone about the viva board situation. Through repeated conversations with them, I was checking whether the interview board was still there, asking them to go to the program office and explain that I couldn’t arrive on time due to flight delays, terrible traffic jams, and so on. As soon as I got down, they informed me, “Bhaiya, the board left 4-5 minutes ago. Now only the Executive MBA viva remains.” After introducing them to Romel bhai, I rushed up to the MBA program office on the second floor. As soon as they saw me, everyone there stopped their work and looked at me. I saw Rahi Sir busy with something; he didn’t respond to my greeting. “Sir, I’m very late. Despite trying hard, I couldn’t arrive on time. I…” Without giving me a chance to say anything more, he shouted, “You Idiot! Get out!” “Sir, I…” “I said, Get out! Out! Out!! I knew very well that you wouldn’t be able to come on time. Is it possible to take one exam in Chittagong and then come to Dhaka for another exam? That easy? You’ve just wasted my time! I had told everyone that a boy from Chittagong would come at 5:15, and we needed to take his viva. Did you think I am a joker?” “Sir, I came here with great difficulty. The flight was delayed, there was heavy traffic on the road. I really…” “It’s none of my business! Get out! Go back where you came from.” “Sir, I had many dreams of studying at IBA.” “Everyone on the street has such dreams. I gave you a chance but you missed it. That’s all! Get out of here.” “Sir, please have some mercy…” (I felt like falling at his feet and crying…) Right beside him sat a gentle-looking gentleman much younger than the sir. He said, “Sir, I’ve heard about him. His younger brother kept coming to our program office. They had been standing in front of the office for hours. His flight was indeed delayed. And there’s heavy traffic in Dhaka today too. A friend of mine came to my room from the airport a while ago; it took him a long time to get here too. Give him a chance, Sir. He’s come so far, taking such risks with great difficulty! He apparently has another written exam tomorrow too. The poor fellow has to return to Chittagong today itself.” “Son, you junior faculty members don’t even know what you’re saying, what kind of requests you make. Why are you pleading for him? Is he your relative or something?” “No no Sir, I’m seeing him for the first time today. Just look at his face once, Sir. He’s really come here with great difficulty. Please do him a favor, Sir.” “You have no idea what you are talking about! Will the Executive MBA viva be the same as theirs? They have 3 years of job experience, while these are just children in comparison!

“This won’t be possible, brother. I am sorry!” “Sir, please help the poor fellow a bit. He’s come such a long way with so much hope!” “Son, we can’t manage anything more for you!” I stood a little distance away, head bowed. Looking at me, he called out loudly, “Hey, stupid! Why are you standing there like a donkey? Go on, go to the third floor! Go and stand there absolutely quietly. We’ll call you.” I truly couldn’t understand whether such a beautiful moment had ever come anywhere in this world before! Tears began streaming down my face. I prayed again and again from my heart for Babu sir. Rahi sir seemed like a father figure to me. I kept remembering mother’s words: “Never get angry at teachers’ scolding. When teachers scold, it means blessings.” Overwhelmed with emotion, as I was about to leave after thanking and saluting the teachers, Rahi sir called from behind, “Hey crazy boy! Comb your hair before entering the board! Wash your face at the basin! Don’t be so scared! Hahaha…” I couldn’t say anything more. I kept staring blankly at sir’s face. My cheeks were wet with tears from both eyes. Babu sir placed his hand on my shoulder and said, “Go on, go upstairs and wait. We are not that much bad people as you thought us to be. Sometimes even the IBA faculties are too good! Freshen up, give your interview properly, now there’s no tension anymore. What’s your exam tomorrow?” “Sir, Mathematical Reasoning and Mental Ability.” “How will you go?” “Sir, I have a return plane ticket.” “Good! Brother, splash some water on your eyes and face to fix your appearance. Give your viva quickly and rush to the airport! Good luck!” At that moment I felt like touching sir’s feet in salute. People get frightened by sudden intense love. For the first time, it suddenly struck me: “What if I can’t honor this love of my teachers? What if I don’t get a chance at IBA in the end?”

When we find ourselves in trouble, if our intentions are pure, a way out always emerges! I went to the washroom on the third floor and tried my best to “make myself presentable” by wetting my hair and smoothing it down. After splashing water on my face, I went and waited in front of the notice board. I was called after 10 minutes. It was nearly seven o’clock. When I entered the room, I saw many faculty members seated there. I hadn’t known that so many would be present for an interview. I thought this was perhaps how IBA interviews were conducted. I later learned that this entire panel had been assembled just for me. Apart from Babu Sir and Rahi Sir, I didn’t recognize anyone else. After getting admitted, I realized that those present that evening were IBA’s most senior and accomplished faculty members. The board included Saiful Majid Sir, Shama-e-Zahir Sir, Mamun Sir, Munir Khosru Sir, Niaz Sir, and Saif Noman Khan Sir. Most of the junior faculty had finished their interviews and gone home, while some senior faculty were in their offices conducting Executive MBA interviews. Some of them had been specially called in. I was in the interview for about 18-20 minutes. Many of the faculty members knew about my situation that day. I had heard of something called “divine possession” in life. At certain special moments, due to particular external influences or circumstances, people suddenly gain extraordinary power. In those moments, they step outside their normal state and display different behavior. They can harness the utmost potential of their inner infinite strength. In that wondrous balanced fusion of emotion and capability, the best version of themselves emerges. From the moment I entered the interview room, I had very likely become a different person, or perhaps the very best ‘me’ from within had emerged that day. By what divine signal this happened, I don’t know. No hesitation, doubt, nervousness, fear, the day’s exhaustion, or lethargy was affecting me at all. I felt incredibly composed and light as a feather. It felt as though whatever I was saying or doing was the best possible. I was experiencing the finest moment of my life right then and there. I can say with complete honesty that the style in which I spoke English that day—I have never in my entire life, even to this day, been able to speak English so flawlessly and fluently. That day the faculty members engaged in various kinds of humor during the interview. They were having great fun with me. Most likely, the faculty wanted to “shake me up” somehow. I don’t know why, by whose indication I don’t know, but I kept answering all their questions one by one with a very cool head and a smile that day. They interviewed me in English on various diverse topics, starting from describing the entire day’s events and the preceding Facebook incidents to many other subjects. (Of course, at IBA there’s absolutely no opportunity to give interviews in Bengali.) Why I wanted to pursue an MBA, why IBA if I was going to take government job exams anyway, my weaknesses, whether I’d ever been in love, how I spend my leisure time, some conversation about reading books, various economic issues of Bangladesh, some personal and family matters, my future plans, the breathless motorcycle journey from A to Z, the BCS examination system, why I went into engineering despite having no interest, why I delayed my honors degree, why I didn’t study properly, why my CGPA was so low, what I like to eat, what kind of personality I prefer in people, what I know about IBA, some current affairs, and several other questions. I was answering very quickly in correct English. The faculty praised this too. I gave a very simple, straightforward, and candid interview. I didn’t speak a single false word that day.

I didn’t need to think before speaking—whatever came to mind, I simply said, so there was no chance to fabricate lies. At the end, they asked me to sing a song. When I said, “I can’t, Sir,” Babu Sir showed me my info-form and laughed, saying, “But you’ve claimed so.” I had written Reading, Writing, Singing in the hobbies section… At that moment, it felt like I was living the best day of my life. I sang, “Aaj ei dintake…” “I see, we’re getting a singer for our cultural program!” As Saiful Majid Sir was saying this, Babu Sir interjected, “Sir, he has another exam tomorrow. He’ll probably be flying back to Chittagong tonight.” Then three or four teachers exclaimed in unison, “What! He’s going back to Chittagong right now? Well then, run along, run along! Go downstairs and see if your superman biker is there! Hahahaha…” As I was leaving with my salaam, the teachers called out, “Best of luck for your tomorrow’s exam.” I kept thinking, again and again—I’ll make it, I’ll make it! (Even after giving the BCS viva, I didn’t feel this good.)

When I stepped out of IBA, it was half past seven on the clock. I knew there was no way I could catch the 7:45 flight. I also knew that I had no idea how I would get to Chittagong that night. I didn’t even feel like thinking about it. Only the exhilarating rush of having given a good exam was coursing through me. Pappu and Arefin had been waiting for me at Madhu’s canteen. Taking them along, I went to the front of Dhaka University’s Central Library and leisurely began eating vegetable pakoras and tea. Many of my students studied in various departments at Dhaka University. Quite a few came to see me. They were asking what questions had been asked in the interview. After a day of incredible experiences, my head had become almost entirely empty. I couldn’t understand why I wasn’t feeling the slightest urgency to return to Chittagong. Pappu asked, “Brother, will you take the night bus?” I said, “Yes, that could work.” (It amuses me now to think how casually I had said ‘that could work’!) The road conditions weren’t good then either, there were always traffic jams. It didn’t even occur to me—what would happen if I couldn’t reach by 10 AM tomorrow? Ripon, a dear younger brother who lived in Chittagong and was one of my former students, said, “Brother, I have a non-AC train ticket; for Turna Nishitha, leaving tonight. It doesn’t matter if I don’t go to Chittagong today. Brother, you take it.” “Alright, fine,” I said, took the ticket, and set off toward Kamalapur Station. That night the train left nearly an hour and a half late. I didn’t even want to think about what was going to happen! I had already surrendered myself to fate long before. In my mind I kept repeating only this: whatever will be, will be. Whether I want it or not, it will happen. And whatever is happening is surely for the good; whatever will happen will surely be for the good too. Let’s see! After the day’s exhaustion, I had a very peaceful sleep. Suddenly I woke up hearing commotion around me. The train had stopped at Comilla. Apparently there was some problem with the line. We were delayed there for nearly two and a quarter hours. I couldn’t understand why I wasn’t feeling any kind of anxiety! I fell asleep again. Sleep is the world’s only faithful lover. Whenever I want it, I find it near. Never, under any circumstances, does it abandon me. There can be no purer love than the love for sleep.

When the train reached Chittagong railway station the next day, it was a quarter to ten in the morning. My exam was scheduled to start at ten. It takes only fifteen minutes to get from the station to my house. When I got home, I found my mother sitting there with everything ready in her hands—my pencil box, board, scale, pen, calculator, admit card, registration card, all of it. My parents had been terribly anxious at home. I hadn’t been able to speak to them since after half past one at night. My mobile had run out of charge. (I was using a cheap Nokia 1100 mobile set back then. Everyone called it the “national set”! It was so sturdy that many would joke, “Dude, you could crack jackfruit with that phone!” I’d tease my friends who used expensive mobiles, saying, “My phone’s model is ‘N Eleven Zero Zero’!”) As soon as my mother saw me, she said, “Dear, how are you? Will you take today’s exam?” I felt emotionally numb. It seemed as though I was lighter than a feather at that moment, floating around in some kind of trance! I smiled and said, “Ma, I’m perfectly fine. I’ll take the exam.” Saying this, I took the packed shopping bag from my mother’s hands and left the house just as I was. It was 10:05 on the clock. From our house to the exam center, it takes at least thirty minutes by CNG during office hours. When I reached the college gate, it was 10:43. That day was the mathematical reasoning and mental ability test. The first two hours were mathematical reasoning, followed by one hour of mental ability. The exam had already started forty-three minutes earlier. Naturally, the police wouldn’t let me enter. I pleaded extensively, kept trying futilely to explain what had happened, but they weren’t willing to listen to anything. But I had made up my mind—I wasn’t going to turn back, I would get inside no matter what. A small commotion started gathering there. Seeing the crowd, the magistrate came over. After hearing my entire story, he said, “You only have one hour left. Can you finish all the math problems in this time?” Without a moment’s hesitation, I said, “I can, sir!” “Alright, go ahead. Good luck!” My heart overflowed with gratitude toward him. At that moment, he seemed to me not human, but divine! I went in, looked at the questions, took the exam. I even showed three problems to the person sitting next to me. (He got a job in Audit and Accounts in the 30th batch.) I scored 98 on that day’s exam—50 in math, 48 in mental ability. After that… well, as everyone says—the rest is history!

But this much is true: had that day’s exam been something other than mathematics, I would have been in real trouble. I can handle math because the type of problems that appeared in the BCS written exam back then weren’t particularly difficult for me to solve. Such problems don’t strain the mind much, and the 30th BCS written exam featured relatively easy math. Even if I worked through each step carefully and added side notes, it shouldn’t have taken more than half an hour. It didn’t for me either. However, spending two and a half hours on the International Affairs exam the day before had been risky. Actually, no matter how incredible the whole affair might seem, everything appears to have been predetermined by the Creator or nature itself. What remains inexplicable to our limited understanding is simply a natural, ordinary occurrence for the Creator. All our failures and successes are already decided beforehand. But to reach that point, the effort—or making the right decision at the right time—that we must do ourselves. I wasn’t even supposed to pass my undergraduate degree. Yet it was my destiny to complete my undergraduate studies, become a BCS cadre, study at IBA—all of it was written in my fate. Had my destiny been bound elsewhere, I would have gone there instead. I had enrolled in another master’s program under Dhaka University—MDS. After continuing that course for three months, I left it of my own accord. They had said I would need to officially hide the fact that I was simultaneously pursuing another master’s at IBA. I refused to lie. I harbor no regret about this, though. I’ve accepted that pursuing that particular master’s degree simply wasn’t written in my destiny. This is the truth, this is reality. I had gained admission to Dhaka University’s Evening MBA program in Finance, ranking sixth on the merit list, but never had to attend classes there. I received my IBA admission test results before that. I did complete my master’s in Finance from Dhaka University, but the Evening MBA program wasn’t destined for me, so I didn’t pursue my master’s degree from there.

Stepping into two boats in the middle of a river ensures certain death. Logic dictates this. But I placed my feet in two boats, taking the maximum risk—I had no other choice—yet both boats moved forward in parallel at the same speed at the same time, so I didn’t slip between them and lose my life. What explanation could there be for this? Life doesn’t follow logic; life follows the Creator’s signals. Life doesn’t always operate according to explanations. Sometimes life moves on faith. So there’s nothing to say about anyone’s personal philosophy and the life they live according to their beliefs, as long as that life doesn’t interfere with someone else’s way of living. Somewhere, no explicable form of life can be seen, and life is just like this!

Through sheer mental strength alone, I had believed that some miracle would surely occur. It did happen, because in Providence’s master plan, that’s what was meant to happen. Everything in between was the Creator’s games or plans to test my patience and concentration. You will never be given a gift you don’t deserve. You will be tested, and if you fail to pass that test, you will deprive yourself of the Creator’s grace through your own fault. I’m sharing with you the Facebook status I posted after the IBA admission test results came out, along with a couple of my own comments on it:

Friends, I’ve been finally selected for admission into the MBA Program of IBA, Dhaka University. …… feeling happy. ……. HATS OFF to Sharmeen didi, Ira madam & Romel bhai!!

# My dear friends….. Your gorgeous presence on my wall makes me think twice about the POWER of friendship & the MAGIC of love. YES……… They matter!! I just want to be with you forever. Please never say GOODBYE…. It hurts!! Your kindness and care mean a lot to me. You’ve always given me much more than I really deserve. Please accept my sincere GRATITUDE.

Happy Social Networking!!

Long live Facebook!!

My best wishes for our Friendship!!

……… Love you all ……

# (To one of my close friends) Dost, not reaching the Interview Session on 17 January at 5:30 pm was what I thought to be….. reaching there in time was what was written in my DESTINY….. And, I ended up calling it a MIRACLE, something I never believed in before…… Just have a look at the schedule of 17 January……

International Affairs Exam (BCS written exam)…. 10:00 am — 1:00 pm

The departure time of the GMG Airlines: 3:20 pm, there was a delay of about 1 hour due to fog and I availed another delayed flight of Bangladesh Biman at 4:37 pm.

The plane landed on Dhaka Airport at 5:13 pm and then I started my fight against time to meet the deadline by bike with Romel bhai!! Who managed those three saviours (Sharmeen didi, Ira madam & Romel bhai) for me? I don’t know. You better ask the Heaven! I saw such a breath-taking motor-bike driving only in English movies. Before that day, I had never thought I would experience it!!

Life is sometimes stranger than fiction . . . . Who can tell it better than I?

# (To one of my senior high-profile Indian friends) Thank you Sir for your words of felicitation. IBA of Dhaka University is considered as the most prestigious institute for doing MBA in Bangladesh. As per the rules of that Business School, the Major/Field of Specialization is allowed to be chosen at the final semester judging the academic records & intention of a candidate. I don’t have much idea about what to choose and why to choose. Please share some ideas on it as you’ve huge practical knowledge (so far as I know) about the present corporate trend.

You’ve nicely stated the trend of our careerist B-school graduates. No one really cares about their own aptitude, rather, tries to be what market wants them to be. Personally, I always like the decision-making and mainstream operational sections of giant companies. And, probably I’ll go for finance as my major when I’ve to choose it in my final semester. Yes, my semester results must be well enough to work on my advantage. That’ll be a story of one and a half years later. Till then, I’ll have to undergo the generalized curriculum as my B-school formulates. The recent economic recession worries our friends studying at the US universities. And, almost all of them suggest me not to plan of staying there. But at the same time, they suggest me completing my PhD in the US if I want to and grab that opportunity. Let’s wait and see. . . . . Are you in India now? Hope you’re quite OK along with your busy schedule. Please, sometimes give me your valuable suggestions when you’ve time and you’re here on Facebook. . . . . Thank you once again for your helpful advice. Take care.

In explaining the final part of the status shared above, I had written these words:

Let me share the Story behind the Story and elucidate the last part of my status. It would have been quite impossible for me to reach Dhaka University from Dhaka International Airport within just 50 minutes (!!) to attend the interview session of IBA in time on Jan 17, but for the cordial help of Sharmeen didi (Sharmeen Muiz) & Ira madam (Johora Bebe Ira). They’re the persons who made that miracle happen!! And, Romel bhai (Monirul Alam Romel) is the “Man with the Bike” who dared fight against time to meet the deadline!! ……. I feel honoured to express my heartfelt gratitude to these three saviours. …….. Miracles Happen When You Believe!!

I conclude this piece with a beautifully strange comment Sharmeen didi made on that status: “My prayers, good wishes, and prayers remain with you. Dear brother of mine, may you grow to great heights. And may the successful reflection of our efforts (Ira’s and mine) shine through in everything you do. I was there, I am here, I will be there. …….. Heaps of hugs and love.”

What sustains a human being? We live on love, on prayers, on good wishes. These are what keep me alive—quite well alive, in fact. My gratitude!

P.S. Let me offer you some practical wisdom. Those who think they know too much, who consider themselves supremely intelligent, who speak in grand terms without any real qualifications or notable position, who try to diminish others even through outright lies, who pontificate without knowledge, who speak to you in such a manner that you begin to doubt your own confidence—I would advise you to absolutely, absolutely, and absolutely avoid such people. They themselves cannot go very far in life, nor will they allow you to go very far either.

(Written 2-3 years ago)

I thought, why should I surrender before I’ve even lost? I’ll see this through to the end. At home, my parents were also saying, “Give up one of them.” My heart was telling me, “I won’t give up, not for anything!” Let me gamble with life this once and see what happens! You have to listen to your heart. I called the MBA Program Office. Zakir bhai was in charge there. He said, “IBA’s schedule doesn’t change for anyone. You change your schedule.” I said, “That’s not possible. You have several slots. BCS has only one.” Even after that he said, “It’s not possible in any way. We’re sorry!” Saying this, he hung up the phone, and my stubbornness only grew stronger. I put aside studying for the next day’s exam. After some inquiries, I learned that Rahi Sir was the Program Chairman for IBA’s MBA at the time. Only he could change my interview slot if he wanted to. Rahi Sir is an incredibly fierce person. IBA’s Marketing Department is the best in Bangladesh. Rahi Sir is the best faculty in that department. I got his number. The person I got the number from asked, “Are you really going to call Rahi Sir?” “Yes. Why?” “We students never dare to call Sir. And you’re going to call him for this?” “I will. I have to. My back is against the wall.” “God bless you, man! You better think twice.” I said, “Sometimes life doesn’t give you the opportunity to think twice. It’s the first and the only chance! I must grab it before it’s too late! I will call him. I’ll make my attempt—if it works, it works; if not, so be it. If I don’t try, it definitely won’t work. Thank you, bhai!” Right after finishing that conversation, without any second thoughts, I called Rahi Sir. A man with an extremely serious voice. It’s frightening just to speak with him. But I have nothing left to lose. I only know this: I passed IBA’s written exam and IBA has to conduct my interview. I had truly become reckless. I blurted out my entire problem in one breath. Rahi Sir said, “You silly kid! You’ve dared to call Rahi Sir for this! Did you think I am your friend? It’s not my business whether you can attend the viva board or not. You have only 2 choices: Leave IBA, or, Leave BCS.” To my infinite amazement, I heard myself saying, “Sir, I have called you to hear about the third choice. If you don’t have that, please make it for me. I know I’ll be at IBA.” Sir said very loudly over the phone, “You are a stupid little boy. You just know nothing about the things here! Don’t waste my time. I am busy!” “Sir, please give me a chance. I am………” I couldn’t make him hear any more—he hung up before that. I couldn’t understand what had happened, only felt an even stronger desire to believe that I would definitely study at IBA. BCS seemed to fade for a moment. Whatever happens in tomorrow’s exam will happen. Right now I need to sort out the IBA situation first. I called the program office again.

I asked, “When can I actually meet Rahi sir?” “What do you mean?” “Sir told me to come see him.” “Ask sir himself when you can actually meet him.” (I mustered the courage to lie….) “Sir said to call the program office and find out.” “He told you to ask us? Really! Alright, stay on the line, let me check sir’s class schedule.” Zakir bhai informed me that if I came next Friday evening, I could meet sir. Saying “thank you very much,” I hung up the phone and immediately left home to buy a bus ticket. From near Gariullah Shah’s shrine in Chittagong, I bought a ticket on Unique’s non-AC bus to Dhaka for Thursday night. The next day, under tremendous mental pressure, I took my Bangladesh Studies Paper 1 exam. Even in the exam hall, my mind kept racing: “Will Rahi sir keep his word?” In my answer sheet, I mistakenly wrote the word “Rahi” several times, though I crossed it out later.

I arrived at IBA before afternoon on Friday. I stood waiting in front of the MBA Program Office. Zakir bhai wasn’t there at the time—he came in the evening, two hours later. I went up and introduced myself. “Oh, I see, you’ve come from Chittagong. Rahi sir mentioned he would speak with you about changing your interview schedule? Really??” “Yes, he told me to come see him!” We were talking when Rahi sir arrived shortly after. He went straight through the program office into his room. A dignified man of serious disposition. His office was right next to the program office. Zakir bhai said, “Please sit on the sofa. Let me ask sir if he’s free right now.” When he told sir, “Someone named Sushanta Pal has come from Chittagong to see you—you had asked him to come,” sir immediately shouted quite loudly, “I didn’t ask anyone to come see me! Tell him to leave. Disgusting!” Zakir bhai told me, “Sir won’t see you. You should go.” “I’ll leave, but only after meeting with sir. Brother, I haven’t come here to turn back. I must see him.” Almost forcefully, I entered sir’s room without permission. After I said very politely, “Assalamu alaikum, sir,” he returned the greeting and said, “What do you want?” There were several other students in the room who had come to sir for various matters. “Sir, I called you the day before yesterday evening.” “Is it my duty to remember your call? Get out!” I said nothing and stood there with my head bowed. The words “Get out!” didn’t register in my mind. At that moment, I only knew that I would speak with Rahi sir about changing the schedule, and sir would surely agree to do so. After standing like this for nearly half an hour, sir said, “Why are you standing here like a statue?” I fearfully placed an application about changing the time slot on sir’s desk and began to say, “Sir, the day before yesterday I spoke with you on the phone…” “Speak in the language I am using now.” “Sir, my interview has been scheduled for next Monday at 10 in the morning. I am appearing for the 30th BCS written exam. I have an exam at the same time. So, I request you to shift my schedule to another convenient time slot.” “Sorry, we cannot.” “Please Sir! Otherwise, my dream to be here will be shattered.” “Let it be. Just go for BCS. You will do better being a civil servant.” “But Sir, it’s uncertain.” “Is being here certain for you?” “No Sir, that’s why I cannot leave any of these 2 opportunities. Please Sir, give me a chance. Do me a favour. I will be ever grateful, Sir.” “What time is your exam?” “10 o’clock, sir.” “How long?” “Three hours, sir.” “Okay fine, come straight here after your exam. Can you make it by 1:30?” I realized sir had forgotten that I’d come from Chittagong. “Sir, I’m taking the exam from Chittagong.” “Stupid! We cannot change our schedule for you! Are you Mr President?” “No Sir, I just want to be your student! I will do anything you tell me to do. Please give me a chance, Sir!” “Look, brother, you won’t be able to finish your exam at 1 o’clock and come from Chittagong to take the interview anyway.

You won’t make it even if you leave at 10 PM. The roads are in terrible condition, there’s heavy traffic.” “Sir, I can come in the evening.” “How? By plane?” “Yes, sir. Please give me a chance, sir.” “Alright. Don’t you have an exam the next day?” “I do, sir. I can manage. I’ll buy a return ticket.” “What time can you arrive?” “Whatever you say, sir.” “Your exam will end at 1 PM. Hmm… okay, can you make it to the 3 o’clock board?” “Yes sir, I can be there at 3.” “Do you know if there are flights at that time?” “I don’t know, sir. I’ll find out.” “I think there’s a flight around 3.” “What time can you arrive?” “4 o’clock, sir?” “Foolish boy! Your brain isn’t working. How can you take a 3 o’clock flight from Chittagong and get from the airport to IBA by 4? You have no idea about Dhaka city. Okay, you come by 5:15 sharp. You will be last person in that board. If you come after that, nothing can be done. The evening board is for Executive MBA. It won’t be possible to hold your viva there. Okay?” “Thank you, sir.” “Youngman, you have decided to play with your life! Best of luck!” “Please pray for me, sir. I can do this!” Tears came to my eyes. I realized that though this man appeared stern on the outside, he was very gentle within. I offered many prayers for the sir and left IBA. I went to Aziz and bought some books. Then I went to Fakirapul and took the 10 PM non-AC bus from Unique, reaching Chittagong in the morning.

I’m sharing the application with you:

15 January 2011

The Program Director, MBA Program

Institute of Business Administration

University of Dhaka

Dhaka

Subject: Prayer for changing the time slot of the interview schedule of the MBA Program Admission

Sir,

This letter expresses my earnest request to change my interview schedule of the MBA Program Admission 2010-2011. I am a candidate for Full-Time Course, my admit number is 2745 and I am on Interview Board 6 scheduled to be conducted at the 10:00 am to 1:00 pm time slot on January 17, 2011. I am appearing at the 30th BCS written examination and my Examination Centre is at Chittagong. I have an examination on January 17, 2011, coincided with the same time slot of the interview and so it is not possible for me to come from Chittagong and attend the interview at 10:00 am.

I will be highly obliged if you kindly permit me to attend the interview at the 6:00 pm to 8:30 pm time slot scheduled for Evening Board 3 and Evening Board 4 on January 17, 2011.

Yours faithfully

Sushanta Paul

I had never been on a plane before. I thought that wherever you go, you need a passport to fly. My elder brother called a friend who works with passport services and asked what documents are needed for an emergency passport to Dhaka. He burst out laughing! He said, “Buddy, what do you need a passport for? A plane and a bus are the same thing. One flies in the sky, the other runs on the road. That’s all there is to it! Just go buy a ticket. That’s it! Which one is good? You can go with GMG. That’s pretty good.” I didn’t know that you don’t have to rush to the airport to buy a plane ticket. I had no idea how much tickets cost. Getting off the bus in the morning, I went straight to a Dutch-Bangla Bank booth and withdrew ten thousand taka. Then I jumped into a CNG and rushed to the airport. I bought a ticket from the GMG Airlines counter for the 3:20 flight on Monday, the 17th. That was the first Chittagong-Dhaka flight of the afternoon. I booked a return ticket for the same day on the 7:45 evening flight. I felt like I could see it right before my eyes—me attending classes at IBA! Such a strange vision! I returned home with a victorious smile, almost as if I had already gotten into IBA! At night, I tried to prepare from various guides and the internet about what they might ask in the IBA interview. I studied for about 4-5 hours. At the same time, I posted a status on Facebook: How much time does it take to reach Dhaka University from Dhaka International Airport? Is it possible to reach in 40 minutes? Friends, any suggestion, please? I was truly a very simple person back then. I saw the world in very simple terms. Since I hadn’t visited Dhaka much, I didn’t know that in 2011 it wasn’t possible to get from the airport to Shahbag in 40 minutes. Everyone was saying it would take a minimum of two hours to get from the airport to the university campus in the afternoon. All sorts of bizarre comments came in reply to my status. Many started making fun of me. I’ll share some of my friends’ suggestions: “It’s possible if you run.” “It would be great if you jogged to the university. You’d get your evening exercise too!” “You shouldn’t have bought that plane ticket! With that money, if you had thrown us a party, we all would have prayed together and your BCS would have worked out! Hahahaha…..” “Young man! You’re young, just run as soon as you get off the plane! You’ll see, you’ll reach before time!” “Listen, such-and-such bus runs on such-and-such route. Hanging and sleeping, you’ll reach IBA just fine!” I got many such absurd comments. I knew absolutely nothing about Dhaka then. When you’re in trouble, doesn’t everyone have to give you a kick? It began to feel like that’s just how life is! People can’t extend a hand to pull you up, but they can certainly extend a foot to kick you down! Without getting the least bit discouraged by anyone’s words, I kept waiting to see if someone would give some good advice. I didn’t react to anyone’s reply that day. How helplessly calm a person becomes when in trouble. All I knew was this: “I’m giving my IBA interview on the 17th.” One person wrote, “You can go by bike. There’s no faster way to reach the university campus.” Some people even supported that idea. A few mentioned taxi cabs. Support was strongest for the bike option. Up until then, I had ridden a bike maybe 2-3 times in my entire life, counting generously. I didn’t really know anyone in Dhaka who had a bike, or if I did know someone, my mind wasn’t working at all then. Sometimes I think now, alas!

I couldn’t even afford to manage a bike at that time. I wrote, “My flight is scheduled to land at Dhaka Airport at 4.10 pm on 17 January. I must reach Dhaka University at or before 5.15 pm. I’ve an interview at IBA at that time. . . . Can’t I do it? Is it not possible? I need to do it at any cost. As I don’t know about the routes of Dhaka City, I’m asking for your help. Dhaka City is an unknown city to me. Can a taxi cab help me reach there in 1 hour? I can’t be late, otherwise I’ll miss the interview schedule. I’ve managed that schedule today through an application. . . Can a bike be a better solution? Or, something else? I’m in great trouble. . . .” After posting this, the mocking and laughter began all over again. I replied to the distinguished gentleman (one of Bangladesh’s most successful businessmen) who had advised me to jog there: “Thank you Sir for you ‘jogging’ suggestion. I was also seriously thinking of this option. Yes, I’ll surely manage to reach in time by vehicles, on foot, again by vehicles, again on foot . . . . And, I’ll go. I’ll be there in time by any means.” Someone said, “Change the schedule once more.” I wrote, “The schedule can’t be changed! Hopefully, there will happen some miracle and I’ll manage to avail the schedule in time.” A younger brother wrote, “Brother, you should go by taxi-cab. But you could try the bus once. Dhaka buses run quite well!” I replied, “Brother, I’m not surely making any attempt of getting on a bus! That’ll be horrible, you know. I was just seeking for a suggestion as I don’t know about the route. Thanks for the suggestion. I think a CNG powered taxi can help me in this regard. A taxi-cab is prone to getting stuck up in the congestion forever. A bike could be a better solution. But, I can’t manage it.”

Mrs. Zohra, whose name was Ira—an extremely distinguished lady—commented, “You need a bike?” “That would be wonderful.” “Alright, let me see what I can do.” She was the Deputy Managing Director of ONE Bank. After completing her studies in Chemistry from Chittagong University, she had done her MBA from IBA. She worked in the corporate sector, but there were very few people who didn’t know her. I have a sister. Her name is Sharmin Muiz Khan. At that time, she was one of those rare souls who loved someone as insignificant as me far more than necessary, showered me with affection for no particular reason. She was almost my mother’s age, but I addressed her as ‘tumi’ and she called me ‘tui’. She had studied English Literature at Dhaka University. She particularly loved my writing. She was a business magnate and had connections with many prominent people. I have rarely seen a lady as distinguished, refined, elegant, and utterly graceful as her. She commented, “Bappi, someone needs to grab you and give you a good thrashing. Are you enjoying confusing everyone by calling them all the time? Please stop wasting your time browsing Facebook and concentrate on tomorrow’s exam. Otherwise, you’re calling for another disaster. There is a saying: ‘Que sera, sera’ meaning: Whatever will be, will be. So, pray and try your best. I have given this opinion after a lot of serious thoughts. Please follow it. You will leave here right now. I don’t want to see you making even one more comment! MIRACLES HAPPEN IF YOU BELIEVE IN YOURSELF!” I replied, “Didi, things are that they’re. Things will be that they will be. And, between this two there lie some miracles that we’re never aware of. And, miracles are often stranger than facts. Facts are because they’re. Miracles are because we or someone else wants them to be. That’s the truth!” She called Mrs. Zohra. She said, “Look Ira, my brother has gotten into a bit of trouble. The poor thing is a simple soul, we should do something for him. Can’t you arrange a bike for him?” A little while later, I saw a message from Mrs. Zohra in my inbox: “Please give me your contact number. Regards” I gave it immediately. The call came within seconds. After introducing herself, she said, “You need a bike Monday at 4 PM, right?” “That would be wonderful.” “OK, a bike will be there for you at 4. My colleague Romel will pick you. Alright?” “I am truly, truly grateful. Thank you so very much!” “Let’s get the work done first, then you can thank me. I’m texting you Romel’s number. Take care.” She hung up immediately. I wrote to her: “Life is stranger than fiction, I repeat. From myself, I’ve got much less than I truly deserve. From others, I’ve got much more than I truly deserve. Is it the thing that they call miracle? I don’t know and never try to know. I let miracles happen and thankfully they always happen . . . . . . . Thank you for your generous approach. This really means a lot to me.” I wrote my piece. I don’t know if she ever read it or had the time to read it. Noble souls don’t wait for thanks. Besides, she was truly, truly busy.

He was the head of the credit section at One Bank. He had no reason to know a nobody like me, yet he knew me through my writing. Otherwise, I would never have had the privilege of speaking with him directly. And the fact that Sharmin didi had spoken to him about me—that was a big deal too. The next day was the Bangladesh Affairs Paper 2 exam. I went to sleep without studying any of it. The day after, straight from the exam hall, I went to the Westex showroom at Probortak intersection. My life’s first interview. I was incredibly excited! I had decided I’d go to the interview board wearing everything brand new. I bought a formal white shirt, black pants, black tie, black belt, black socks, white undershirt, and brown shoes. Later, from Gallery Apex I bought formal Oxford shoes, and from Time Zone a Titan wristwatch, then returned home in the evening. Seeing my antics, Ma was laughing. “Ma, why are you laughing?” “Just because, dear.” The funny thing was, Ma went with me to the exam hall every single day. She always kept me close, just like a child. Ma said, “Tomorrow I’m going to the airport with you.” And she did go—despite my protests.

Monday, the 17th. International Affairs exam. I couldn’t stay in the exam hall for the entire time due to nerves. I don’t have a car, what if the CNG takes too long to reach the airport! What if I miss the flight! The flight was at 3:20. And it takes at least 2 hours to reach the airport from Omar Gani MES College by 1 PM. Our written exam had been during winter. In the bitter cold, my fingers would freeze. Still, I kept rubbing my palms together to warm them, blowing hot breath into the hollow of my cupped hands, and wrote with all my strength. Instead of 1 o’clock, I finished the exam at 12:30, submitted my paper, and rushed out. When I emerged from the hall and reached the gate, everyone thought I must have been expelled! The intense stress was clearly written all over my face. Many showed me sympathy, told me not to worry, advised me to do better in the next BCS. I didn’t have time to respond. What could I say anyway—at that moment, life itself was one giant question mark for me! I don’t know what strength possessed my mother. She ran almost twice as fast as me, covering the distance from the college campus to the road. We got into a CNG without bargaining, paying nearly one and a half times the normal fare. I told the driver, “However you manage it, get us to the airport within two hours. If necessary, I’ll pay you extra.” It was 12:50 on the clock. The CNG started speeding. Mother opened the tiffin box and fed me khichuri, meat, and fried egg. One thought kept spinning in my head: “Will I catch the plane? If we get stuck in traffic, it’s all over!” I took off my sweater. I had left home that morning wearing my viva outfit, everything except the tie. After escaping two minor traffic jams, when we reached the airport, it was 5 minutes to 3. As soon as I got down, I touched my mother’s and aunt’s feet in respect (a distant aunt had come with us since mother couldn’t return home from the airport alone) and ran to the counter. There I learned that the flight was delayed by an hour due to dense fog. I thought, if the plane leaves at that time, there’s no way I can reach IBA by 5:15. I informed the counter staff about this. They said there was nothing they could do; they were very sorry. I inquired and learned that no other flights were departing at that time either. At that moment, I felt utterly helpless, just wanting to cry. I felt like I had no one, no one at all! I kept going from counter to counter. I found out there was a Bangladesh Biman flight departing at 3:45. There was no other flight before that. It was a bigger plane, taking 30 minutes to reach, whereas other planes take at least 40 minutes. Meaning, I would reach Dhaka airport by 4:15! I bought the ticket right then. There was great hope in my heart—if this one leaves on time, there’s nothing more to worry about. I went to the airport restroom and quickly put on my tie. I adjusted my shirt once more. Looking in the mirror, I fixed my hair with my hand. The clock hand crossed 4 after passing 3:45. The plane was delayed due to fog. We all boarded the plane at 4:15. It was my first time on a plane. I kept thinking, when will it take off, when will it take off! Every second felt like an hour! The tension was making it hard to breathe, yet the plane wouldn’t take off. I thought, oh! If only I could spend all my strength to make this plane soar into the sky! I pressed my handkerchief over my eyes to hide my tears. Finally, the plane took off. It was 4:37 on the clock. I was thinking, oh!

The plane could have taken off directly without taxiing! At least a couple of minutes would have been saved! The plane landed on Dhaka’s runway at 5:13.

I burst out of the domestic terminal running with all my might, and gasping for breath, I saw a motorcycle come to a stop right in front of me. “You’re Sushanta, right? Get on the back!” I extended my hand to shake hands with the young man in the black helmet. He didn’t raise his black-gloved right fist for a handshake. “Time’s wasting, brother! Please get on! Quick!” I didn’t argue further. “You’re not used to riding bikes, are you?” “Yes. How did you know?” “Brother, I’ve been riding bikes for the past 18-20 years. I can tell.” “I see.” “Lean forward and press your chest firmly against my back! You can even wrap your arms around me, otherwise you’ll get thrown off. For sure! I’m going to ride fast.” The way that bike tore out of the airport—I don’t have the courage to even think about it today. Under normal circumstances, I might have screamed in fear and told him to stop, or I really would have been thrown off. But at that moment I knew that being afraid was important, but far more important was reaching IBA alive. I don’t know if the wheels of that 150cc bike actually touched the ground that day, but for the second time in my life I understood this truth: you cannot frighten someone who stakes their life to touch their dreams. I had only seen bikes racing so recklessly on the roads in movies. The bike was literally cutting through the whooshing sound of wind, as if flying through the air! “Say brother, are you somebody really important?” “What do you mean?” “Well, Madam told me that one of her very important friends had to be delivered from the airport to IBA within half an hour, no matter what. That was her order! Who are you, brother? Hahahaha………” “I’m Madam’s Facebook friend.” “What are you saying, man? How’s that possible! I was thinking even more… you mean you’ve never even met her?” “No, brother. Why?” (There’s a railway crossing ahead. The barrier is coming down.) “Brother, duck your head a little.” Saying this, he quickly rode the bike under the barrier without obeying the signal. Many people behind us were shouting for us to stop. “Brother, just don’t be afraid. Nothing will happen. You can close your eyes if you want.” Right at that moment, while quickly emerging from between two trucks standing side by side, he said, “Sit a bit smaller, brother!” A little further ahead—massive traffic jam at a signal! Romel bhai lifted the bike onto the sidewalk. “Brother, please give way a little, give way a little,” he kept saying as he raced forward. He had to do this several times. Sometimes when riding on the central divider in the middle of the road, traffic police would catch us, and he’d say in a tearful voice, “Sir, my aunt is fighting for her life in the medical college. I’m going to donate blood. O-negative blood—we can’t find any. If I don’t reach on time, we won’t be able to save my aunt, sir!” He’d manage the police with this story and then race off at the same speed again! Whenever there was a traffic jam on the road, he’d immediately change to another road. That day I learned that when obstacles appear on the road, it doesn’t mean there is no road. Rather, it means you have to take a different road! Right now!! I had only seen such daredevil biking in Hollywood action movies. Looking at my hair in the bike’s mirror, it seemed as if it had stood up straight after an electric shock! My face was covered with dust from the city. In the fierce wind, my tie was flying behind me in the air. I don’t know if anyone has ever seen a bike race so recklessly through Dhaka’s roads during rush hour. But for some reason, I truly wasn’t afraid at all. I kept thinking over and over, “How quickly can one reach IBA!” Romel bhai had finished his honors and master’s from Dhaka College before joining the bank. I had asked him, “What’s your designation at the bank?” He had joked, “Not much, just 14 more promotions and I’ll be able to sit in Zohra Madam’s chair. Hahaha…….”

When I arrived in front of IBA, my watch showed 5:52. As I got down, I saw my younger brother Pappu and his friend Arefin standing there. At that time, I had my gift shop ‘Dobhana.’ Pappu and Arefin were my working partners. They often came to Dhaka from Chawk Bazaar in Old Dhaka to buy wholesale goods for the shop. I had withdrawn myself from the shop to focus on my BCS exam preparation. They ran everything. They were already in Dhaka on shop business. I had told them to go to the IBA MBA program office and keep me updated by phone about the viva board situation. Through repeated conversations with them, I was checking whether the interview board was still there, asking them to go to the program office and explain that I couldn’t arrive on time due to flight delays, terrible traffic jams, and so on. As soon as I got down, they informed me, “Bhaiya, the board left 4-5 minutes ago. Now only the Executive MBA viva remains.” After introducing them to Romel bhai, I rushed up to the MBA program office on the second floor. As soon as they saw me, everyone there stopped their work and looked at me. I saw Rahi Sir busy with something; he didn’t respond to my greeting. “Sir, I’m very late. Despite trying hard, I couldn’t arrive on time. I…” Without giving me a chance to say anything more, he shouted, “You Idiot! Get out!” “Sir, I…” “I said, Get out! Out! Out!! I knew very well that you wouldn’t be able to come on time. Is it possible to take one exam in Chittagong and then come to Dhaka for another exam? That easy? You’ve just wasted my time! I had told everyone that a boy from Chittagong would come at 5:15, and we needed to take his viva. Did you think I am a joker?” “Sir, I came here with great difficulty. The flight was delayed, there was heavy traffic on the road. I really…” “It’s none of my business! Get out! Go back where you came from.” “Sir, I had many dreams of studying at IBA.” “Everyone on the street has such dreams. I gave you a chance but you missed it. That’s all! Get out of here.” “Sir, please have some mercy…” (I felt like falling at his feet and crying…) Right beside him sat a gentle-looking gentleman much younger than the sir. He said, “Sir, I’ve heard about him. His younger brother kept coming to our program office. They had been standing in front of the office for hours. His flight was indeed delayed. And there’s heavy traffic in Dhaka today too. A friend of mine came to my room from the airport a while ago; it took him a long time to get here too. Give him a chance, Sir. He’s come so far, taking such risks with great difficulty! He apparently has another written exam tomorrow too. The poor fellow has to return to Chittagong today itself.” “Son, you junior faculty members don’t even know what you’re saying, what kind of requests you make. Why are you pleading for him? Is he your relative or something?” “No no Sir, I’m seeing him for the first time today. Just look at his face once, Sir. He’s really come here with great difficulty. Please do him a favor, Sir.” “You have no idea what you are talking about! Will the Executive MBA viva be the same as theirs? They have 3 years of job experience, while these are just children in comparison!

“This won’t be possible, brother. I am sorry!” “Sir, please help the poor fellow a bit. He’s come such a long way with so much hope!” “Son, we can’t manage anything more for you!” I stood a little distance away, head bowed. Looking at me, he called out loudly, “Hey, stupid! Why are you standing there like a donkey? Go on, go to the third floor! Go and stand there absolutely quietly. We’ll call you.” I truly couldn’t understand whether such a beautiful moment had ever come anywhere in this world before! Tears began streaming down my face. I prayed again and again from my heart for Babu sir. Rahi sir seemed like a father figure to me. I kept remembering mother’s words: “Never get angry at teachers’ scolding. When teachers scold, it means blessings.” Overwhelmed with emotion, as I was about to leave after thanking and saluting the teachers, Rahi sir called from behind, “Hey crazy boy! Comb your hair before entering the board! Wash your face at the basin! Don’t be so scared! Hahaha…” I couldn’t say anything more. I kept staring blankly at sir’s face. My cheeks were wet with tears from both eyes. Babu sir placed his hand on my shoulder and said, “Go on, go upstairs and wait. We are not that much bad people as you thought us to be. Sometimes even the IBA faculties are too good! Freshen up, give your interview properly, now there’s no tension anymore. What’s your exam tomorrow?” “Sir, Mathematical Reasoning and Mental Ability.” “How will you go?” “Sir, I have a return plane ticket.” “Good! Brother, splash some water on your eyes and face to fix your appearance. Give your viva quickly and rush to the airport! Good luck!” At that moment I felt like touching sir’s feet in salute. People get frightened by sudden intense love. For the first time, it suddenly struck me: “What if I can’t honor this love of my teachers? What if I don’t get a chance at IBA in the end?”

When we find ourselves in trouble, if our intentions are pure, a way out always emerges! I went to the washroom on the third floor and tried my best to “make myself presentable” by wetting my hair and smoothing it down. After splashing water on my face, I went and waited in front of the notice board. I was called after 10 minutes. It was nearly seven o’clock. When I entered the room, I saw many faculty members seated there. I hadn’t known that so many would be present for an interview. I thought this was perhaps how IBA interviews were conducted. I later learned that this entire panel had been assembled just for me. Apart from Babu Sir and Rahi Sir, I didn’t recognize anyone else. After getting admitted, I realized that those present that evening were IBA’s most senior and accomplished faculty members. The board included Saiful Majid Sir, Shama-e-Zahir Sir, Mamun Sir, Munir Khosru Sir, Niaz Sir, and Saif Noman Khan Sir. Most of the junior faculty had finished their interviews and gone home, while some senior faculty were in their offices conducting Executive MBA interviews. Some of them had been specially called in. I was in the interview for about 18-20 minutes. Many of the faculty members knew about my situation that day. I had heard of something called “divine possession” in life. At certain special moments, due to particular external influences or circumstances, people suddenly gain extraordinary power. In those moments, they step outside their normal state and display different behavior. They can harness the utmost potential of their inner infinite strength. In that wondrous balanced fusion of emotion and capability, the best version of themselves emerges. From the moment I entered the interview room, I had very likely become a different person, or perhaps the very best ‘me’ from within had emerged that day. By what divine signal this happened, I don’t know. No hesitation, doubt, nervousness, fear, the day’s exhaustion, or lethargy was affecting me at all. I felt incredibly composed and light as a feather. It felt as though whatever I was saying or doing was the best possible. I was experiencing the finest moment of my life right then and there. I can say with complete honesty that the style in which I spoke English that day—I have never in my entire life, even to this day, been able to speak English so flawlessly and fluently. That day the faculty members engaged in various kinds of humor during the interview. They were having great fun with me. Most likely, the faculty wanted to “shake me up” somehow. I don’t know why, by whose indication I don’t know, but I kept answering all their questions one by one with a very cool head and a smile that day. They interviewed me in English on various diverse topics, starting from describing the entire day’s events and the preceding Facebook incidents to many other subjects. (Of course, at IBA there’s absolutely no opportunity to give interviews in Bengali.) Why I wanted to pursue an MBA, why IBA if I was going to take government job exams anyway, my weaknesses, whether I’d ever been in love, how I spend my leisure time, some conversation about reading books, various economic issues of Bangladesh, some personal and family matters, my future plans, the breathless motorcycle journey from A to Z, the BCS examination system, why I went into engineering despite having no interest, why I delayed my honors degree, why I didn’t study properly, why my CGPA was so low, what I like to eat, what kind of personality I prefer in people, what I know about IBA, some current affairs, and several other questions. I was answering very quickly in correct English. The faculty praised this too. I gave a very simple, straightforward, and candid interview. I didn’t speak a single false word that day.

I didn’t need to think before speaking—whatever came to mind, I simply said, so there was no chance to fabricate lies. At the end, they asked me to sing a song. When I said, “I can’t, Sir,” Babu Sir showed me my info-form and laughed, saying, “But you’ve claimed so.” I had written Reading, Writing, Singing in the hobbies section… At that moment, it felt like I was living the best day of my life. I sang, “Aaj ei dintake…” “I see, we’re getting a singer for our cultural program!” As Saiful Majid Sir was saying this, Babu Sir interjected, “Sir, he has another exam tomorrow. He’ll probably be flying back to Chittagong tonight.” Then three or four teachers exclaimed in unison, “What! He’s going back to Chittagong right now? Well then, run along, run along! Go downstairs and see if your superman biker is there! Hahahaha…” As I was leaving with my salaam, the teachers called out, “Best of luck for your tomorrow’s exam.” I kept thinking, again and again—I’ll make it, I’ll make it! (Even after giving the BCS viva, I didn’t feel this good.)

When I stepped out of IBA, it was half past seven on the clock. I knew there was no way I could catch the 7:45 flight. I also knew that I had no idea how I would get to Chittagong that night. I didn’t even feel like thinking about it. Only the exhilarating rush of having given a good exam was coursing through me. Pappu and Arefin had been waiting for me at Madhu’s canteen. Taking them along, I went to the front of Dhaka University’s Central Library and leisurely began eating vegetable pakoras and tea. Many of my students studied in various departments at Dhaka University. Quite a few came to see me. They were asking what questions had been asked in the interview. After a day of incredible experiences, my head had become almost entirely empty. I couldn’t understand why I wasn’t feeling the slightest urgency to return to Chittagong. Pappu asked, “Brother, will you take the night bus?” I said, “Yes, that could work.” (It amuses me now to think how casually I had said ‘that could work’!) The road conditions weren’t good then either, there were always traffic jams. It didn’t even occur to me—what would happen if I couldn’t reach by 10 AM tomorrow? Ripon, a dear younger brother who lived in Chittagong and was one of my former students, said, “Brother, I have a non-AC train ticket; for Turna Nishitha, leaving tonight. It doesn’t matter if I don’t go to Chittagong today. Brother, you take it.” “Alright, fine,” I said, took the ticket, and set off toward Kamalapur Station. That night the train left nearly an hour and a half late. I didn’t even want to think about what was going to happen! I had already surrendered myself to fate long before. In my mind I kept repeating only this: whatever will be, will be. Whether I want it or not, it will happen. And whatever is happening is surely for the good; whatever will happen will surely be for the good too. Let’s see! After the day’s exhaustion, I had a very peaceful sleep. Suddenly I woke up hearing commotion around me. The train had stopped at Comilla. Apparently there was some problem with the line. We were delayed there for nearly two and a quarter hours. I couldn’t understand why I wasn’t feeling any kind of anxiety! I fell asleep again. Sleep is the world’s only faithful lover. Whenever I want it, I find it near. Never, under any circumstances, does it abandon me. There can be no purer love than the love for sleep.

When the train reached Chittagong railway station the next day, it was a quarter to ten in the morning. My exam was scheduled to start at ten. It takes only fifteen minutes to get from the station to my house. When I got home, I found my mother sitting there with everything ready in her hands—my pencil box, board, scale, pen, calculator, admit card, registration card, all of it. My parents had been terribly anxious at home. I hadn’t been able to speak to them since after half past one at night. My mobile had run out of charge. (I was using a cheap Nokia 1100 mobile set back then. Everyone called it the “national set”! It was so sturdy that many would joke, “Dude, you could crack jackfruit with that phone!” I’d tease my friends who used expensive mobiles, saying, “My phone’s model is ‘N Eleven Zero Zero’!”) As soon as my mother saw me, she said, “Dear, how are you? Will you take today’s exam?” I felt emotionally numb. It seemed as though I was lighter than a feather at that moment, floating around in some kind of trance! I smiled and said, “Ma, I’m perfectly fine. I’ll take the exam.” Saying this, I took the packed shopping bag from my mother’s hands and left the house just as I was. It was 10:05 on the clock. From our house to the exam center, it takes at least thirty minutes by CNG during office hours. When I reached the college gate, it was 10:43. That day was the mathematical reasoning and mental ability test. The first two hours were mathematical reasoning, followed by one hour of mental ability. The exam had already started forty-three minutes earlier. Naturally, the police wouldn’t let me enter. I pleaded extensively, kept trying futilely to explain what had happened, but they weren’t willing to listen to anything. But I had made up my mind—I wasn’t going to turn back, I would get inside no matter what. A small commotion started gathering there. Seeing the crowd, the magistrate came over. After hearing my entire story, he said, “You only have one hour left. Can you finish all the math problems in this time?” Without a moment’s hesitation, I said, “I can, sir!” “Alright, go ahead. Good luck!” My heart overflowed with gratitude toward him. At that moment, he seemed to me not human, but divine! I went in, looked at the questions, took the exam. I even showed three problems to the person sitting next to me. (He got a job in Audit and Accounts in the 30th batch.) I scored 98 on that day’s exam—50 in math, 48 in mental ability. After that… well, as everyone says—the rest is history!

But this much is true: had that day’s exam been something other than mathematics, I would have been in real trouble. I can handle math because the type of problems that appeared in the BCS written exam back then weren’t particularly difficult for me to solve. Such problems don’t strain the mind much, and the 30th BCS written exam featured relatively easy math. Even if I worked through each step carefully and added side notes, it shouldn’t have taken more than half an hour. It didn’t for me either. However, spending two and a half hours on the International Affairs exam the day before had been risky. Actually, no matter how incredible the whole affair might seem, everything appears to have been predetermined by the Creator or nature itself. What remains inexplicable to our limited understanding is simply a natural, ordinary occurrence for the Creator. All our failures and successes are already decided beforehand. But to reach that point, the effort—or making the right decision at the right time—that we must do ourselves. I wasn’t even supposed to pass my undergraduate degree. Yet it was my destiny to complete my undergraduate studies, become a BCS cadre, study at IBA—all of it was written in my fate. Had my destiny been bound elsewhere, I would have gone there instead. I had enrolled in another master’s program under Dhaka University—MDS. After continuing that course for three months, I left it of my own accord. They had said I would need to officially hide the fact that I was simultaneously pursuing another master’s at IBA. I refused to lie. I harbor no regret about this, though. I’ve accepted that pursuing that particular master’s degree simply wasn’t written in my destiny. This is the truth, this is reality. I had gained admission to Dhaka University’s Evening MBA program in Finance, ranking sixth on the merit list, but never had to attend classes there. I received my IBA admission test results before that. I did complete my master’s in Finance from Dhaka University, but the Evening MBA program wasn’t destined for me, so I didn’t pursue my master’s degree from there.

Stepping into two boats in the middle of a river ensures certain death. Logic dictates this. But I placed my feet in two boats, taking the maximum risk—I had no other choice—yet both boats moved forward in parallel at the same speed at the same time, so I didn’t slip between them and lose my life. What explanation could there be for this? Life doesn’t follow logic; life follows the Creator’s signals. Life doesn’t always operate according to explanations. Sometimes life moves on faith. So there’s nothing to say about anyone’s personal philosophy and the life they live according to their beliefs, as long as that life doesn’t interfere with someone else’s way of living. Somewhere, no explicable form of life can be seen, and life is just like this!

Through sheer mental strength alone, I had believed that some miracle would surely occur. It did happen, because in Providence’s master plan, that’s what was meant to happen. Everything in between was the Creator’s games or plans to test my patience and concentration. You will never be given a gift you don’t deserve. You will be tested, and if you fail to pass that test, you will deprive yourself of the Creator’s grace through your own fault. I’m sharing with you the Facebook status I posted after the IBA admission test results came out, along with a couple of my own comments on it:

Friends, I’ve been finally selected for admission into the MBA Program of IBA, Dhaka University. …… feeling happy. ……. HATS OFF to Sharmeen didi, Ira madam & Romel bhai!!

# My dear friends….. Your gorgeous presence on my wall makes me think twice about the POWER of friendship & the MAGIC of love. YES……… They matter!! I just want to be with you forever. Please never say GOODBYE…. It hurts!! Your kindness and care mean a lot to me. You’ve always given me much more than I really deserve. Please accept my sincere GRATITUDE.

Happy Social Networking!!

Long live Facebook!!

My best wishes for our Friendship!!

……… Love you all ……

# (To one of my close friends) Dost, not reaching the Interview Session on 17 January at 5:30 pm was what I thought to be….. reaching there in time was what was written in my DESTINY….. And, I ended up calling it a MIRACLE, something I never believed in before…… Just have a look at the schedule of 17 January……

International Affairs Exam (BCS written exam)…. 10:00 am — 1:00 pm

The departure time of the GMG Airlines: 3:20 pm, there was a delay of about 1 hour due to fog and I availed another delayed flight of Bangladesh Biman at 4:37 pm.

The plane landed on Dhaka Airport at 5:13 pm and then I started my fight against time to meet the deadline by bike with Romel bhai!! Who managed those three saviours (Sharmeen didi, Ira madam & Romel bhai) for me? I don’t know. You better ask the Heaven! I saw such a breath-taking motor-bike driving only in English movies. Before that day, I had never thought I would experience it!!

Life is sometimes stranger than fiction . . . . Who can tell it better than I?

# (To one of my senior high-profile Indian friends) Thank you Sir for your words of felicitation. IBA of Dhaka University is considered as the most prestigious institute for doing MBA in Bangladesh. As per the rules of that Business School, the Major/Field of Specialization is allowed to be chosen at the final semester judging the academic records & intention of a candidate. I don’t have much idea about what to choose and why to choose. Please share some ideas on it as you’ve huge practical knowledge (so far as I know) about the present corporate trend.

You’ve nicely stated the trend of our careerist B-school graduates. No one really cares about their own aptitude, rather, tries to be what market wants them to be. Personally, I always like the decision-making and mainstream operational sections of giant companies. And, probably I’ll go for finance as my major when I’ve to choose it in my final semester. Yes, my semester results must be well enough to work on my advantage. That’ll be a story of one and a half years later. Till then, I’ll have to undergo the generalized curriculum as my B-school formulates. The recent economic recession worries our friends studying at the US universities. And, almost all of them suggest me not to plan of staying there. But at the same time, they suggest me completing my PhD in the US if I want to and grab that opportunity. Let’s wait and see. . . . . Are you in India now? Hope you’re quite OK along with your busy schedule. Please, sometimes give me your valuable suggestions when you’ve time and you’re here on Facebook. . . . . Thank you once again for your helpful advice. Take care.

In explaining the final part of the status shared above, I had written these words:

Let me share the Story behind the Story and elucidate the last part of my status. It would have been quite impossible for me to reach Dhaka University from Dhaka International Airport within just 50 minutes (!!) to attend the interview session of IBA in time on Jan 17, but for the cordial help of Sharmeen didi (Sharmeen Muiz) & Ira madam (Johora Bebe Ira). They’re the persons who made that miracle happen!! And, Romel bhai (Monirul Alam Romel) is the “Man with the Bike” who dared fight against time to meet the deadline!! ……. I feel honoured to express my heartfelt gratitude to these three saviours. …….. Miracles Happen When You Believe!!

I conclude this piece with a beautifully strange comment Sharmeen didi made on that status: “My prayers, good wishes, and prayers remain with you. Dear brother of mine, may you grow to great heights. And may the successful reflection of our efforts (Ira’s and mine) shine through in everything you do. I was there, I am here, I will be there. …….. Heaps of hugs and love.”

What sustains a human being? We live on love, on prayers, on good wishes. These are what keep me alive—quite well alive, in fact. My gratitude!

P.S. Let me offer you some practical wisdom. Those who think they know too much, who consider themselves supremely intelligent, who speak in grand terms without any real qualifications or notable position, who try to diminish others even through outright lies, who pontificate without knowledge, who speak to you in such a manner that you begin to doubt your own confidence—I would advise you to absolutely, absolutely, and absolutely avoid such people. They themselves cannot go very far in life, nor will they allow you to go very far either.

(Written 2-3 years ago)

I have been meaning to write this piece for at least the past four years. Due to my characteristic laziness, it remained buried among my lost writings all this time. Unable to let it slip away entirely, I have resolved today to begin writing with the firm determination that, no matter how difficult it becomes, I will not leave this chair until it is finished. The trouble with not writing when one should is that the emotion and enthusiasm of that moment are lost, and often the writing fails to come alive. However, there are many exceptions to this. Sanjibchandra Chattopadhyay, the elder brother of Bankimchandra Chattopadhyay, worked for quite some time as a Deputy Magistrate in the exquisitely beautiful, remote forest region of Palamau. Many years later, he wrote ‘Palamau,’ a work born of memory and reflection. For those who have not yet read ‘Palamau,’ I will say just one thing to convey what kind of writing it is: when Bishwa Sahitya Kendra began its publishing work, everyone at the center was perplexed about which among so many masterpieces of world literature should be printed first. It was then that Abdullah Abu Sayeed decided that the first book published by Bishwa Sahitya Kendra would be ‘Palamau.’ But let me return to what I was saying. To discuss why writing intended to be written often never materializes would be to commit great injustice to oneself and others. So I shall not venture into that discussion. However, regarding this particular piece, I will only say this much: when attempting to describe one of life’s most incredible events, my hands tremble with excitement, memories blur, and a fear pervades my entire being—what would today have been like if everything that day had unfolded differently? I keep thinking that today would not have been anything like today. Today I would have been someone else entirely. Everything around me would have seemed like something else altogether. The truth is, life does not unfold the way we imagine it will. Life unfolds as life does. The color of life appears one way in imagination, but the actual color is different. Even if we think we will spend our lives playing with life itself, it does not necessarily follow that life will pass in precisely that manner. What will happen and what will not—all of this is predetermined. Our task is simply to perform brilliantly on this stage in our own way. The more skillful one’s performance, the more intimately one tastes the flavor of life.

The 30th BCS written examination began on January 11, 2011, and concluded on January 23. On the evening of Wednesday the 12th, I checked the IBA website at Dhaka University and discovered that I was among those who had passed the written portion of the MBA program admission test for the 45th batch. The candidates who passed the written exam would be divided into several groups for interviews, and my group was scheduled for Monday, January 17, at 10 AM at IBA. I had taken the BCS examination from Chittagong, where the PSC-designated examination center for Chittagong candidates was Omar Gani MES College. On the day of my IBA interview, the International Affairs exam was also scheduled to begin at 10 AM. Attending an exam at Dhaka University at the same time was simply impossible. I knew that IBA didn’t offer many second chances. Having secured this opportunity, I couldn’t imagine myself foolish or generous enough to let it slip away. Instead of studying for the next day’s Bangladesh Affairs Paper I, I began calling everyone I knew who had studied at IBA or was familiar with it. I still remember the intense excitement of that time. When something you desperately want comes within reach, yet circumstances force you to let it go—staying calm in such a moment is nearly impossible. Everyone I spoke with on the phone said the same thing: “You can’t have two good things at once. You’ll have to give up one of them. If you try to keep a foot in both boats, you’ll end up with neither. Besides, you can take the BCS exam again, and you can also take the IBA admission test again. Let go of one.” Those who valued the corporate sector highly told me to abandon BCS. Those who valued the civil service told me to pursue IBA later. No one could suggest a way to manage both. At that moment, neither option seemed bigger or smaller to me—my mind had gone completely blank, and I felt as though life was playing a game of Snakes and Ladders with me. The dice might roll such a number that I’d end up in the belly of a snake—but then again, it might not. Sometimes the number that comes up sends you climbing a ladder high above. Life’s Snakes and Ladders board doesn’t contain only snakes—there are ladders too! Who’s to say this throw won’t land on a ladder? Life is indeed like Snakes and Ladders, where the highest number isn’t necessarily the best. Perhaps I’d roll two sixes and then a five—totaling seventeen, the highest possible—yet still end up sliding down a long snake. But equally possible: rolling the smallest number, just one, and finding myself climbing rapidly up a ladder to great heights. Understanding the game of less is the most difficult thing of all! The highest number isn’t always the best. You must see how much is actually needed. Great income, great torment—what need is there for such a large sum? Knowing how to choose the right number for your life is a great art indeed!

I thought, why should I surrender before I’ve even lost? I’ll see this through to the end. At home, my parents were also saying, “Give up one of them.” My heart was telling me, “I won’t give up, not for anything!” Let me gamble with life this once and see what happens! You have to listen to your heart. I called the MBA Program Office. Zakir bhai was in charge there. He said, “IBA’s schedule doesn’t change for anyone. You change your schedule.” I said, “That’s not possible. You have several slots. BCS has only one.” Even after that he said, “It’s not possible in any way. We’re sorry!” Saying this, he hung up the phone, and my stubbornness only grew stronger. I put aside studying for the next day’s exam. After some inquiries, I learned that Rahi Sir was the Program Chairman for IBA’s MBA at the time. Only he could change my interview slot if he wanted to. Rahi Sir is an incredibly fierce person. IBA’s Marketing Department is the best in Bangladesh. Rahi Sir is the best faculty in that department. I got his number. The person I got the number from asked, “Are you really going to call Rahi Sir?” “Yes. Why?” “We students never dare to call Sir. And you’re going to call him for this?” “I will. I have to. My back is against the wall.” “God bless you, man! You better think twice.” I said, “Sometimes life doesn’t give you the opportunity to think twice. It’s the first and the only chance! I must grab it before it’s too late! I will call him. I’ll make my attempt—if it works, it works; if not, so be it. If I don’t try, it definitely won’t work. Thank you, bhai!” Right after finishing that conversation, without any second thoughts, I called Rahi Sir. A man with an extremely serious voice. It’s frightening just to speak with him. But I have nothing left to lose. I only know this: I passed IBA’s written exam and IBA has to conduct my interview. I had truly become reckless. I blurted out my entire problem in one breath. Rahi Sir said, “You silly kid! You’ve dared to call Rahi Sir for this! Did you think I am your friend? It’s not my business whether you can attend the viva board or not. You have only 2 choices: Leave IBA, or, Leave BCS.” To my infinite amazement, I heard myself saying, “Sir, I have called you to hear about the third choice. If you don’t have that, please make it for me. I know I’ll be at IBA.” Sir said very loudly over the phone, “You are a stupid little boy. You just know nothing about the things here! Don’t waste my time. I am busy!” “Sir, please give me a chance. I am………” I couldn’t make him hear any more—he hung up before that. I couldn’t understand what had happened, only felt an even stronger desire to believe that I would definitely study at IBA. BCS seemed to fade for a moment. Whatever happens in tomorrow’s exam will happen. Right now I need to sort out the IBA situation first. I called the program office again.

I asked, “When can I actually meet Rahi sir?” “What do you mean?” “Sir told me to come see him.” “Ask sir himself when you can actually meet him.” (I mustered the courage to lie….) “Sir said to call the program office and find out.” “He told you to ask us? Really! Alright, stay on the line, let me check sir’s class schedule.” Zakir bhai informed me that if I came next Friday evening, I could meet sir. Saying “thank you very much,” I hung up the phone and immediately left home to buy a bus ticket. From near Gariullah Shah’s shrine in Chittagong, I bought a ticket on Unique’s non-AC bus to Dhaka for Thursday night. The next day, under tremendous mental pressure, I took my Bangladesh Studies Paper 1 exam. Even in the exam hall, my mind kept racing: “Will Rahi sir keep his word?” In my answer sheet, I mistakenly wrote the word “Rahi” several times, though I crossed it out later.

I arrived at IBA before afternoon on Friday. I stood waiting in front of the MBA Program Office. Zakir bhai wasn’t there at the time—he came in the evening, two hours later. I went up and introduced myself. “Oh, I see, you’ve come from Chittagong. Rahi sir mentioned he would speak with you about changing your interview schedule? Really??” “Yes, he told me to come see him!” We were talking when Rahi sir arrived shortly after. He went straight through the program office into his room. A dignified man of serious disposition. His office was right next to the program office. Zakir bhai said, “Please sit on the sofa. Let me ask sir if he’s free right now.” When he told sir, “Someone named Sushanta Pal has come from Chittagong to see you—you had asked him to come,” sir immediately shouted quite loudly, “I didn’t ask anyone to come see me! Tell him to leave. Disgusting!” Zakir bhai told me, “Sir won’t see you. You should go.” “I’ll leave, but only after meeting with sir. Brother, I haven’t come here to turn back. I must see him.” Almost forcefully, I entered sir’s room without permission. After I said very politely, “Assalamu alaikum, sir,” he returned the greeting and said, “What do you want?” There were several other students in the room who had come to sir for various matters. “Sir, I called you the day before yesterday evening.” “Is it my duty to remember your call? Get out!” I said nothing and stood there with my head bowed. The words “Get out!” didn’t register in my mind. At that moment, I only knew that I would speak with Rahi sir about changing the schedule, and sir would surely agree to do so. After standing like this for nearly half an hour, sir said, “Why are you standing here like a statue?” I fearfully placed an application about changing the time slot on sir’s desk and began to say, “Sir, the day before yesterday I spoke with you on the phone…” “Speak in the language I am using now.” “Sir, my interview has been scheduled for next Monday at 10 in the morning. I am appearing for the 30th BCS written exam. I have an exam at the same time. So, I request you to shift my schedule to another convenient time slot.” “Sorry, we cannot.” “Please Sir! Otherwise, my dream to be here will be shattered.” “Let it be. Just go for BCS. You will do better being a civil servant.” “But Sir, it’s uncertain.” “Is being here certain for you?” “No Sir, that’s why I cannot leave any of these 2 opportunities. Please Sir, give me a chance. Do me a favour. I will be ever grateful, Sir.” “What time is your exam?” “10 o’clock, sir.” “How long?” “Three hours, sir.” “Okay fine, come straight here after your exam. Can you make it by 1:30?” I realized sir had forgotten that I’d come from Chittagong. “Sir, I’m taking the exam from Chittagong.” “Stupid! We cannot change our schedule for you! Are you Mr President?” “No Sir, I just want to be your student! I will do anything you tell me to do. Please give me a chance, Sir!” “Look, brother, you won’t be able to finish your exam at 1 o’clock and come from Chittagong to take the interview anyway.

You won’t make it even if you leave at 10 PM. The roads are in terrible condition, there’s heavy traffic.” “Sir, I can come in the evening.” “How? By plane?” “Yes, sir. Please give me a chance, sir.” “Alright. Don’t you have an exam the next day?” “I do, sir. I can manage. I’ll buy a return ticket.” “What time can you arrive?” “Whatever you say, sir.” “Your exam will end at 1 PM. Hmm… okay, can you make it to the 3 o’clock board?” “Yes sir, I can be there at 3.” “Do you know if there are flights at that time?” “I don’t know, sir. I’ll find out.” “I think there’s a flight around 3.” “What time can you arrive?” “4 o’clock, sir?” “Foolish boy! Your brain isn’t working. How can you take a 3 o’clock flight from Chittagong and get from the airport to IBA by 4? You have no idea about Dhaka city. Okay, you come by 5:15 sharp. You will be last person in that board. If you come after that, nothing can be done. The evening board is for Executive MBA. It won’t be possible to hold your viva there. Okay?” “Thank you, sir.” “Youngman, you have decided to play with your life! Best of luck!” “Please pray for me, sir. I can do this!” Tears came to my eyes. I realized that though this man appeared stern on the outside, he was very gentle within. I offered many prayers for the sir and left IBA. I went to Aziz and bought some books. Then I went to Fakirapul and took the 10 PM non-AC bus from Unique, reaching Chittagong in the morning.

I’m sharing the application with you:

15 January 2011

The Program Director, MBA Program

Institute of Business Administration

University of Dhaka

Dhaka

Subject: Prayer for changing the time slot of the interview schedule of the MBA Program Admission

Sir,

This letter expresses my earnest request to change my interview schedule of the MBA Program Admission 2010-2011. I am a candidate for Full-Time Course, my admit number is 2745 and I am on Interview Board 6 scheduled to be conducted at the 10:00 am to 1:00 pm time slot on January 17, 2011. I am appearing at the 30th BCS written examination and my Examination Centre is at Chittagong. I have an examination on January 17, 2011, coincided with the same time slot of the interview and so it is not possible for me to come from Chittagong and attend the interview at 10:00 am.

I will be highly obliged if you kindly permit me to attend the interview at the 6:00 pm to 8:30 pm time slot scheduled for Evening Board 3 and Evening Board 4 on January 17, 2011.

Yours faithfully

Sushanta Paul

I had never been on a plane before. I thought that wherever you go, you need a passport to fly. My elder brother called a friend who works with passport services and asked what documents are needed for an emergency passport to Dhaka. He burst out laughing! He said, “Buddy, what do you need a passport for? A plane and a bus are the same thing. One flies in the sky, the other runs on the road. That’s all there is to it! Just go buy a ticket. That’s it! Which one is good? You can go with GMG. That’s pretty good.” I didn’t know that you don’t have to rush to the airport to buy a plane ticket. I had no idea how much tickets cost. Getting off the bus in the morning, I went straight to a Dutch-Bangla Bank booth and withdrew ten thousand taka. Then I jumped into a CNG and rushed to the airport. I bought a ticket from the GMG Airlines counter for the 3:20 flight on Monday, the 17th. That was the first Chittagong-Dhaka flight of the afternoon. I booked a return ticket for the same day on the 7:45 evening flight. I felt like I could see it right before my eyes—me attending classes at IBA! Such a strange vision! I returned home with a victorious smile, almost as if I had already gotten into IBA! At night, I tried to prepare from various guides and the internet about what they might ask in the IBA interview. I studied for about 4-5 hours. At the same time, I posted a status on Facebook: How much time does it take to reach Dhaka University from Dhaka International Airport? Is it possible to reach in 40 minutes? Friends, any suggestion, please? I was truly a very simple person back then. I saw the world in very simple terms. Since I hadn’t visited Dhaka much, I didn’t know that in 2011 it wasn’t possible to get from the airport to Shahbag in 40 minutes. Everyone was saying it would take a minimum of two hours to get from the airport to the university campus in the afternoon. All sorts of bizarre comments came in reply to my status. Many started making fun of me. I’ll share some of my friends’ suggestions: “It’s possible if you run.” “It would be great if you jogged to the university. You’d get your evening exercise too!” “You shouldn’t have bought that plane ticket! With that money, if you had thrown us a party, we all would have prayed together and your BCS would have worked out! Hahahaha…..” “Young man! You’re young, just run as soon as you get off the plane! You’ll see, you’ll reach before time!” “Listen, such-and-such bus runs on such-and-such route. Hanging and sleeping, you’ll reach IBA just fine!” I got many such absurd comments. I knew absolutely nothing about Dhaka then. When you’re in trouble, doesn’t everyone have to give you a kick? It began to feel like that’s just how life is! People can’t extend a hand to pull you up, but they can certainly extend a foot to kick you down! Without getting the least bit discouraged by anyone’s words, I kept waiting to see if someone would give some good advice. I didn’t react to anyone’s reply that day. How helplessly calm a person becomes when in trouble. All I knew was this: “I’m giving my IBA interview on the 17th.” One person wrote, “You can go by bike. There’s no faster way to reach the university campus.” Some people even supported that idea. A few mentioned taxi cabs. Support was strongest for the bike option. Up until then, I had ridden a bike maybe 2-3 times in my entire life, counting generously. I didn’t really know anyone in Dhaka who had a bike, or if I did know someone, my mind wasn’t working at all then. Sometimes I think now, alas!

I couldn’t even afford to manage a bike at that time. I wrote, “My flight is scheduled to land at Dhaka Airport at 4.10 pm on 17 January. I must reach Dhaka University at or before 5.15 pm. I’ve an interview at IBA at that time. . . . Can’t I do it? Is it not possible? I need to do it at any cost. As I don’t know about the routes of Dhaka City, I’m asking for your help. Dhaka City is an unknown city to me. Can a taxi cab help me reach there in 1 hour? I can’t be late, otherwise I’ll miss the interview schedule. I’ve managed that schedule today through an application. . . Can a bike be a better solution? Or, something else? I’m in great trouble. . . .” After posting this, the mocking and laughter began all over again. I replied to the distinguished gentleman (one of Bangladesh’s most successful businessmen) who had advised me to jog there: “Thank you Sir for you ‘jogging’ suggestion. I was also seriously thinking of this option. Yes, I’ll surely manage to reach in time by vehicles, on foot, again by vehicles, again on foot . . . . And, I’ll go. I’ll be there in time by any means.” Someone said, “Change the schedule once more.” I wrote, “The schedule can’t be changed! Hopefully, there will happen some miracle and I’ll manage to avail the schedule in time.” A younger brother wrote, “Brother, you should go by taxi-cab. But you could try the bus once. Dhaka buses run quite well!” I replied, “Brother, I’m not surely making any attempt of getting on a bus! That’ll be horrible, you know. I was just seeking for a suggestion as I don’t know about the route. Thanks for the suggestion. I think a CNG powered taxi can help me in this regard. A taxi-cab is prone to getting stuck up in the congestion forever. A bike could be a better solution. But, I can’t manage it.”

Mrs. Zohra, whose name was Ira—an extremely distinguished lady—commented, “You need a bike?” “That would be wonderful.” “Alright, let me see what I can do.” She was the Deputy Managing Director of ONE Bank. After completing her studies in Chemistry from Chittagong University, she had done her MBA from IBA. She worked in the corporate sector, but there were very few people who didn’t know her. I have a sister. Her name is Sharmin Muiz Khan. At that time, she was one of those rare souls who loved someone as insignificant as me far more than necessary, showered me with affection for no particular reason. She was almost my mother’s age, but I addressed her as ‘tumi’ and she called me ‘tui’. She had studied English Literature at Dhaka University. She particularly loved my writing. She was a business magnate and had connections with many prominent people. I have rarely seen a lady as distinguished, refined, elegant, and utterly graceful as her. She commented, “Bappi, someone needs to grab you and give you a good thrashing. Are you enjoying confusing everyone by calling them all the time? Please stop wasting your time browsing Facebook and concentrate on tomorrow’s exam. Otherwise, you’re calling for another disaster. There is a saying: ‘Que sera, sera’ meaning: Whatever will be, will be. So, pray and try your best. I have given this opinion after a lot of serious thoughts. Please follow it. You will leave here right now. I don’t want to see you making even one more comment! MIRACLES HAPPEN IF YOU BELIEVE IN YOURSELF!” I replied, “Didi, things are that they’re. Things will be that they will be. And, between this two there lie some miracles that we’re never aware of. And, miracles are often stranger than facts. Facts are because they’re. Miracles are because we or someone else wants them to be. That’s the truth!” She called Mrs. Zohra. She said, “Look Ira, my brother has gotten into a bit of trouble. The poor thing is a simple soul, we should do something for him. Can’t you arrange a bike for him?” A little while later, I saw a message from Mrs. Zohra in my inbox: “Please give me your contact number. Regards” I gave it immediately. The call came within seconds. After introducing herself, she said, “You need a bike Monday at 4 PM, right?” “That would be wonderful.” “OK, a bike will be there for you at 4. My colleague Romel will pick you. Alright?” “I am truly, truly grateful. Thank you so very much!” “Let’s get the work done first, then you can thank me. I’m texting you Romel’s number. Take care.” She hung up immediately. I wrote to her: “Life is stranger than fiction, I repeat. From myself, I’ve got much less than I truly deserve. From others, I’ve got much more than I truly deserve. Is it the thing that they call miracle? I don’t know and never try to know. I let miracles happen and thankfully they always happen . . . . . . . Thank you for your generous approach. This really means a lot to me.” I wrote my piece. I don’t know if she ever read it or had the time to read it. Noble souls don’t wait for thanks. Besides, she was truly, truly busy.

He was the head of the credit section at One Bank. He had no reason to know a nobody like me, yet he knew me through my writing. Otherwise, I would never have had the privilege of speaking with him directly. And the fact that Sharmin didi had spoken to him about me—that was a big deal too. The next day was the Bangladesh Affairs Paper 2 exam. I went to sleep without studying any of it. The day after, straight from the exam hall, I went to the Westex showroom at Probortak intersection. My life’s first interview. I was incredibly excited! I had decided I’d go to the interview board wearing everything brand new. I bought a formal white shirt, black pants, black tie, black belt, black socks, white undershirt, and brown shoes. Later, from Gallery Apex I bought formal Oxford shoes, and from Time Zone a Titan wristwatch, then returned home in the evening. Seeing my antics, Ma was laughing. “Ma, why are you laughing?” “Just because, dear.” The funny thing was, Ma went with me to the exam hall every single day. She always kept me close, just like a child. Ma said, “Tomorrow I’m going to the airport with you.” And she did go—despite my protests.

Monday, the 17th. International Affairs exam. I couldn’t stay in the exam hall for the entire time due to nerves. I don’t have a car, what if the CNG takes too long to reach the airport! What if I miss the flight! The flight was at 3:20. And it takes at least 2 hours to reach the airport from Omar Gani MES College by 1 PM. Our written exam had been during winter. In the bitter cold, my fingers would freeze. Still, I kept rubbing my palms together to warm them, blowing hot breath into the hollow of my cupped hands, and wrote with all my strength. Instead of 1 o’clock, I finished the exam at 12:30, submitted my paper, and rushed out. When I emerged from the hall and reached the gate, everyone thought I must have been expelled! The intense stress was clearly written all over my face. Many showed me sympathy, told me not to worry, advised me to do better in the next BCS. I didn’t have time to respond. What could I say anyway—at that moment, life itself was one giant question mark for me! I don’t know what strength possessed my mother. She ran almost twice as fast as me, covering the distance from the college campus to the road. We got into a CNG without bargaining, paying nearly one and a half times the normal fare. I told the driver, “However you manage it, get us to the airport within two hours. If necessary, I’ll pay you extra.” It was 12:50 on the clock. The CNG started speeding. Mother opened the tiffin box and fed me khichuri, meat, and fried egg. One thought kept spinning in my head: “Will I catch the plane? If we get stuck in traffic, it’s all over!” I took off my sweater. I had left home that morning wearing my viva outfit, everything except the tie. After escaping two minor traffic jams, when we reached the airport, it was 5 minutes to 3. As soon as I got down, I touched my mother’s and aunt’s feet in respect (a distant aunt had come with us since mother couldn’t return home from the airport alone) and ran to the counter. There I learned that the flight was delayed by an hour due to dense fog. I thought, if the plane leaves at that time, there’s no way I can reach IBA by 5:15. I informed the counter staff about this. They said there was nothing they could do; they were very sorry. I inquired and learned that no other flights were departing at that time either. At that moment, I felt utterly helpless, just wanting to cry. I felt like I had no one, no one at all! I kept going from counter to counter. I found out there was a Bangladesh Biman flight departing at 3:45. There was no other flight before that. It was a bigger plane, taking 30 minutes to reach, whereas other planes take at least 40 minutes. Meaning, I would reach Dhaka airport by 4:15! I bought the ticket right then. There was great hope in my heart—if this one leaves on time, there’s nothing more to worry about. I went to the airport restroom and quickly put on my tie. I adjusted my shirt once more. Looking in the mirror, I fixed my hair with my hand. The clock hand crossed 4 after passing 3:45. The plane was delayed due to fog. We all boarded the plane at 4:15. It was my first time on a plane. I kept thinking, when will it take off, when will it take off! Every second felt like an hour! The tension was making it hard to breathe, yet the plane wouldn’t take off. I thought, oh! If only I could spend all my strength to make this plane soar into the sky! I pressed my handkerchief over my eyes to hide my tears. Finally, the plane took off. It was 4:37 on the clock. I was thinking, oh!

The plane could have taken off directly without taxiing! At least a couple of minutes would have been saved! The plane landed on Dhaka’s runway at 5:13.

I burst out of the domestic terminal running with all my might, and gasping for breath, I saw a motorcycle come to a stop right in front of me. “You’re Sushanta, right? Get on the back!” I extended my hand to shake hands with the young man in the black helmet. He didn’t raise his black-gloved right fist for a handshake. “Time’s wasting, brother! Please get on! Quick!” I didn’t argue further. “You’re not used to riding bikes, are you?” “Yes. How did you know?” “Brother, I’ve been riding bikes for the past 18-20 years. I can tell.” “I see.” “Lean forward and press your chest firmly against my back! You can even wrap your arms around me, otherwise you’ll get thrown off. For sure! I’m going to ride fast.” The way that bike tore out of the airport—I don’t have the courage to even think about it today. Under normal circumstances, I might have screamed in fear and told him to stop, or I really would have been thrown off. But at that moment I knew that being afraid was important, but far more important was reaching IBA alive. I don’t know if the wheels of that 150cc bike actually touched the ground that day, but for the second time in my life I understood this truth: you cannot frighten someone who stakes their life to touch their dreams. I had only seen bikes racing so recklessly on the roads in movies. The bike was literally cutting through the whooshing sound of wind, as if flying through the air! “Say brother, are you somebody really important?” “What do you mean?” “Well, Madam told me that one of her very important friends had to be delivered from the airport to IBA within half an hour, no matter what. That was her order! Who are you, brother? Hahahaha………” “I’m Madam’s Facebook friend.” “What are you saying, man? How’s that possible! I was thinking even more… you mean you’ve never even met her?” “No, brother. Why?” (There’s a railway crossing ahead. The barrier is coming down.) “Brother, duck your head a little.” Saying this, he quickly rode the bike under the barrier without obeying the signal. Many people behind us were shouting for us to stop. “Brother, just don’t be afraid. Nothing will happen. You can close your eyes if you want.” Right at that moment, while quickly emerging from between two trucks standing side by side, he said, “Sit a bit smaller, brother!” A little further ahead—massive traffic jam at a signal! Romel bhai lifted the bike onto the sidewalk. “Brother, please give way a little, give way a little,” he kept saying as he raced forward. He had to do this several times. Sometimes when riding on the central divider in the middle of the road, traffic police would catch us, and he’d say in a tearful voice, “Sir, my aunt is fighting for her life in the medical college. I’m going to donate blood. O-negative blood—we can’t find any. If I don’t reach on time, we won’t be able to save my aunt, sir!” He’d manage the police with this story and then race off at the same speed again! Whenever there was a traffic jam on the road, he’d immediately change to another road. That day I learned that when obstacles appear on the road, it doesn’t mean there is no road. Rather, it means you have to take a different road! Right now!! I had only seen such daredevil biking in Hollywood action movies. Looking at my hair in the bike’s mirror, it seemed as if it had stood up straight after an electric shock! My face was covered with dust from the city. In the fierce wind, my tie was flying behind me in the air. I don’t know if anyone has ever seen a bike race so recklessly through Dhaka’s roads during rush hour. But for some reason, I truly wasn’t afraid at all. I kept thinking over and over, “How quickly can one reach IBA!” Romel bhai had finished his honors and master’s from Dhaka College before joining the bank. I had asked him, “What’s your designation at the bank?” He had joked, “Not much, just 14 more promotions and I’ll be able to sit in Zohra Madam’s chair. Hahaha…….”

When I arrived in front of IBA, my watch showed 5:52. As I got down, I saw my younger brother Pappu and his friend Arefin standing there. At that time, I had my gift shop ‘Dobhana.’ Pappu and Arefin were my working partners. They often came to Dhaka from Chawk Bazaar in Old Dhaka to buy wholesale goods for the shop. I had withdrawn myself from the shop to focus on my BCS exam preparation. They ran everything. They were already in Dhaka on shop business. I had told them to go to the IBA MBA program office and keep me updated by phone about the viva board situation. Through repeated conversations with them, I was checking whether the interview board was still there, asking them to go to the program office and explain that I couldn’t arrive on time due to flight delays, terrible traffic jams, and so on. As soon as I got down, they informed me, “Bhaiya, the board left 4-5 minutes ago. Now only the Executive MBA viva remains.” After introducing them to Romel bhai, I rushed up to the MBA program office on the second floor. As soon as they saw me, everyone there stopped their work and looked at me. I saw Rahi Sir busy with something; he didn’t respond to my greeting. “Sir, I’m very late. Despite trying hard, I couldn’t arrive on time. I…” Without giving me a chance to say anything more, he shouted, “You Idiot! Get out!” “Sir, I…” “I said, Get out! Out! Out!! I knew very well that you wouldn’t be able to come on time. Is it possible to take one exam in Chittagong and then come to Dhaka for another exam? That easy? You’ve just wasted my time! I had told everyone that a boy from Chittagong would come at 5:15, and we needed to take his viva. Did you think I am a joker?” “Sir, I came here with great difficulty. The flight was delayed, there was heavy traffic on the road. I really…” “It’s none of my business! Get out! Go back where you came from.” “Sir, I had many dreams of studying at IBA.” “Everyone on the street has such dreams. I gave you a chance but you missed it. That’s all! Get out of here.” “Sir, please have some mercy…” (I felt like falling at his feet and crying…) Right beside him sat a gentle-looking gentleman much younger than the sir. He said, “Sir, I’ve heard about him. His younger brother kept coming to our program office. They had been standing in front of the office for hours. His flight was indeed delayed. And there’s heavy traffic in Dhaka today too. A friend of mine came to my room from the airport a while ago; it took him a long time to get here too. Give him a chance, Sir. He’s come so far, taking such risks with great difficulty! He apparently has another written exam tomorrow too. The poor fellow has to return to Chittagong today itself.” “Son, you junior faculty members don’t even know what you’re saying, what kind of requests you make. Why are you pleading for him? Is he your relative or something?” “No no Sir, I’m seeing him for the first time today. Just look at his face once, Sir. He’s really come here with great difficulty. Please do him a favor, Sir.” “You have no idea what you are talking about! Will the Executive MBA viva be the same as theirs? They have 3 years of job experience, while these are just children in comparison!

“This won’t be possible, brother. I am sorry!” “Sir, please help the poor fellow a bit. He’s come such a long way with so much hope!” “Son, we can’t manage anything more for you!” I stood a little distance away, head bowed. Looking at me, he called out loudly, “Hey, stupid! Why are you standing there like a donkey? Go on, go to the third floor! Go and stand there absolutely quietly. We’ll call you.” I truly couldn’t understand whether such a beautiful moment had ever come anywhere in this world before! Tears began streaming down my face. I prayed again and again from my heart for Babu sir. Rahi sir seemed like a father figure to me. I kept remembering mother’s words: “Never get angry at teachers’ scolding. When teachers scold, it means blessings.” Overwhelmed with emotion, as I was about to leave after thanking and saluting the teachers, Rahi sir called from behind, “Hey crazy boy! Comb your hair before entering the board! Wash your face at the basin! Don’t be so scared! Hahaha…” I couldn’t say anything more. I kept staring blankly at sir’s face. My cheeks were wet with tears from both eyes. Babu sir placed his hand on my shoulder and said, “Go on, go upstairs and wait. We are not that much bad people as you thought us to be. Sometimes even the IBA faculties are too good! Freshen up, give your interview properly, now there’s no tension anymore. What’s your exam tomorrow?” “Sir, Mathematical Reasoning and Mental Ability.” “How will you go?” “Sir, I have a return plane ticket.” “Good! Brother, splash some water on your eyes and face to fix your appearance. Give your viva quickly and rush to the airport! Good luck!” At that moment I felt like touching sir’s feet in salute. People get frightened by sudden intense love. For the first time, it suddenly struck me: “What if I can’t honor this love of my teachers? What if I don’t get a chance at IBA in the end?”

When we find ourselves in trouble, if our intentions are pure, a way out always emerges! I went to the washroom on the third floor and tried my best to “make myself presentable” by wetting my hair and smoothing it down. After splashing water on my face, I went and waited in front of the notice board. I was called after 10 minutes. It was nearly seven o’clock. When I entered the room, I saw many faculty members seated there. I hadn’t known that so many would be present for an interview. I thought this was perhaps how IBA interviews were conducted. I later learned that this entire panel had been assembled just for me. Apart from Babu Sir and Rahi Sir, I didn’t recognize anyone else. After getting admitted, I realized that those present that evening were IBA’s most senior and accomplished faculty members. The board included Saiful Majid Sir, Shama-e-Zahir Sir, Mamun Sir, Munir Khosru Sir, Niaz Sir, and Saif Noman Khan Sir. Most of the junior faculty had finished their interviews and gone home, while some senior faculty were in their offices conducting Executive MBA interviews. Some of them had been specially called in. I was in the interview for about 18-20 minutes. Many of the faculty members knew about my situation that day. I had heard of something called “divine possession” in life. At certain special moments, due to particular external influences or circumstances, people suddenly gain extraordinary power. In those moments, they step outside their normal state and display different behavior. They can harness the utmost potential of their inner infinite strength. In that wondrous balanced fusion of emotion and capability, the best version of themselves emerges. From the moment I entered the interview room, I had very likely become a different person, or perhaps the very best ‘me’ from within had emerged that day. By what divine signal this happened, I don’t know. No hesitation, doubt, nervousness, fear, the day’s exhaustion, or lethargy was affecting me at all. I felt incredibly composed and light as a feather. It felt as though whatever I was saying or doing was the best possible. I was experiencing the finest moment of my life right then and there. I can say with complete honesty that the style in which I spoke English that day—I have never in my entire life, even to this day, been able to speak English so flawlessly and fluently. That day the faculty members engaged in various kinds of humor during the interview. They were having great fun with me. Most likely, the faculty wanted to “shake me up” somehow. I don’t know why, by whose indication I don’t know, but I kept answering all their questions one by one with a very cool head and a smile that day. They interviewed me in English on various diverse topics, starting from describing the entire day’s events and the preceding Facebook incidents to many other subjects. (Of course, at IBA there’s absolutely no opportunity to give interviews in Bengali.) Why I wanted to pursue an MBA, why IBA if I was going to take government job exams anyway, my weaknesses, whether I’d ever been in love, how I spend my leisure time, some conversation about reading books, various economic issues of Bangladesh, some personal and family matters, my future plans, the breathless motorcycle journey from A to Z, the BCS examination system, why I went into engineering despite having no interest, why I delayed my honors degree, why I didn’t study properly, why my CGPA was so low, what I like to eat, what kind of personality I prefer in people, what I know about IBA, some current affairs, and several other questions. I was answering very quickly in correct English. The faculty praised this too. I gave a very simple, straightforward, and candid interview. I didn’t speak a single false word that day.

I didn’t need to think before speaking—whatever came to mind, I simply said, so there was no chance to fabricate lies. At the end, they asked me to sing a song. When I said, “I can’t, Sir,” Babu Sir showed me my info-form and laughed, saying, “But you’ve claimed so.” I had written Reading, Writing, Singing in the hobbies section… At that moment, it felt like I was living the best day of my life. I sang, “Aaj ei dintake…” “I see, we’re getting a singer for our cultural program!” As Saiful Majid Sir was saying this, Babu Sir interjected, “Sir, he has another exam tomorrow. He’ll probably be flying back to Chittagong tonight.” Then three or four teachers exclaimed in unison, “What! He’s going back to Chittagong right now? Well then, run along, run along! Go downstairs and see if your superman biker is there! Hahahaha…” As I was leaving with my salaam, the teachers called out, “Best of luck for your tomorrow’s exam.” I kept thinking, again and again—I’ll make it, I’ll make it! (Even after giving the BCS viva, I didn’t feel this good.)

When I stepped out of IBA, it was half past seven on the clock. I knew there was no way I could catch the 7:45 flight. I also knew that I had no idea how I would get to Chittagong that night. I didn’t even feel like thinking about it. Only the exhilarating rush of having given a good exam was coursing through me. Pappu and Arefin had been waiting for me at Madhu’s canteen. Taking them along, I went to the front of Dhaka University’s Central Library and leisurely began eating vegetable pakoras and tea. Many of my students studied in various departments at Dhaka University. Quite a few came to see me. They were asking what questions had been asked in the interview. After a day of incredible experiences, my head had become almost entirely empty. I couldn’t understand why I wasn’t feeling the slightest urgency to return to Chittagong. Pappu asked, “Brother, will you take the night bus?” I said, “Yes, that could work.” (It amuses me now to think how casually I had said ‘that could work’!) The road conditions weren’t good then either, there were always traffic jams. It didn’t even occur to me—what would happen if I couldn’t reach by 10 AM tomorrow? Ripon, a dear younger brother who lived in Chittagong and was one of my former students, said, “Brother, I have a non-AC train ticket; for Turna Nishitha, leaving tonight. It doesn’t matter if I don’t go to Chittagong today. Brother, you take it.” “Alright, fine,” I said, took the ticket, and set off toward Kamalapur Station. That night the train left nearly an hour and a half late. I didn’t even want to think about what was going to happen! I had already surrendered myself to fate long before. In my mind I kept repeating only this: whatever will be, will be. Whether I want it or not, it will happen. And whatever is happening is surely for the good; whatever will happen will surely be for the good too. Let’s see! After the day’s exhaustion, I had a very peaceful sleep. Suddenly I woke up hearing commotion around me. The train had stopped at Comilla. Apparently there was some problem with the line. We were delayed there for nearly two and a quarter hours. I couldn’t understand why I wasn’t feeling any kind of anxiety! I fell asleep again. Sleep is the world’s only faithful lover. Whenever I want it, I find it near. Never, under any circumstances, does it abandon me. There can be no purer love than the love for sleep.

When the train reached Chittagong railway station the next day, it was a quarter to ten in the morning. My exam was scheduled to start at ten. It takes only fifteen minutes to get from the station to my house. When I got home, I found my mother sitting there with everything ready in her hands—my pencil box, board, scale, pen, calculator, admit card, registration card, all of it. My parents had been terribly anxious at home. I hadn’t been able to speak to them since after half past one at night. My mobile had run out of charge. (I was using a cheap Nokia 1100 mobile set back then. Everyone called it the “national set”! It was so sturdy that many would joke, “Dude, you could crack jackfruit with that phone!” I’d tease my friends who used expensive mobiles, saying, “My phone’s model is ‘N Eleven Zero Zero’!”) As soon as my mother saw me, she said, “Dear, how are you? Will you take today’s exam?” I felt emotionally numb. It seemed as though I was lighter than a feather at that moment, floating around in some kind of trance! I smiled and said, “Ma, I’m perfectly fine. I’ll take the exam.” Saying this, I took the packed shopping bag from my mother’s hands and left the house just as I was. It was 10:05 on the clock. From our house to the exam center, it takes at least thirty minutes by CNG during office hours. When I reached the college gate, it was 10:43. That day was the mathematical reasoning and mental ability test. The first two hours were mathematical reasoning, followed by one hour of mental ability. The exam had already started forty-three minutes earlier. Naturally, the police wouldn’t let me enter. I pleaded extensively, kept trying futilely to explain what had happened, but they weren’t willing to listen to anything. But I had made up my mind—I wasn’t going to turn back, I would get inside no matter what. A small commotion started gathering there. Seeing the crowd, the magistrate came over. After hearing my entire story, he said, “You only have one hour left. Can you finish all the math problems in this time?” Without a moment’s hesitation, I said, “I can, sir!” “Alright, go ahead. Good luck!” My heart overflowed with gratitude toward him. At that moment, he seemed to me not human, but divine! I went in, looked at the questions, took the exam. I even showed three problems to the person sitting next to me. (He got a job in Audit and Accounts in the 30th batch.) I scored 98 on that day’s exam—50 in math, 48 in mental ability. After that… well, as everyone says—the rest is history!

But this much is true: had that day’s exam been something other than mathematics, I would have been in real trouble. I can handle math because the type of problems that appeared in the BCS written exam back then weren’t particularly difficult for me to solve. Such problems don’t strain the mind much, and the 30th BCS written exam featured relatively easy math. Even if I worked through each step carefully and added side notes, it shouldn’t have taken more than half an hour. It didn’t for me either. However, spending two and a half hours on the International Affairs exam the day before had been risky. Actually, no matter how incredible the whole affair might seem, everything appears to have been predetermined by the Creator or nature itself. What remains inexplicable to our limited understanding is simply a natural, ordinary occurrence for the Creator. All our failures and successes are already decided beforehand. But to reach that point, the effort—or making the right decision at the right time—that we must do ourselves. I wasn’t even supposed to pass my undergraduate degree. Yet it was my destiny to complete my undergraduate studies, become a BCS cadre, study at IBA—all of it was written in my fate. Had my destiny been bound elsewhere, I would have gone there instead. I had enrolled in another master’s program under Dhaka University—MDS. After continuing that course for three months, I left it of my own accord. They had said I would need to officially hide the fact that I was simultaneously pursuing another master’s at IBA. I refused to lie. I harbor no regret about this, though. I’ve accepted that pursuing that particular master’s degree simply wasn’t written in my destiny. This is the truth, this is reality. I had gained admission to Dhaka University’s Evening MBA program in Finance, ranking sixth on the merit list, but never had to attend classes there. I received my IBA admission test results before that. I did complete my master’s in Finance from Dhaka University, but the Evening MBA program wasn’t destined for me, so I didn’t pursue my master’s degree from there.

Stepping into two boats in the middle of a river ensures certain death. Logic dictates this. But I placed my feet in two boats, taking the maximum risk—I had no other choice—yet both boats moved forward in parallel at the same speed at the same time, so I didn’t slip between them and lose my life. What explanation could there be for this? Life doesn’t follow logic; life follows the Creator’s signals. Life doesn’t always operate according to explanations. Sometimes life moves on faith. So there’s nothing to say about anyone’s personal philosophy and the life they live according to their beliefs, as long as that life doesn’t interfere with someone else’s way of living. Somewhere, no explicable form of life can be seen, and life is just like this!

Through sheer mental strength alone, I had believed that some miracle would surely occur. It did happen, because in Providence’s master plan, that’s what was meant to happen. Everything in between was the Creator’s games or plans to test my patience and concentration. You will never be given a gift you don’t deserve. You will be tested, and if you fail to pass that test, you will deprive yourself of the Creator’s grace through your own fault. I’m sharing with you the Facebook status I posted after the IBA admission test results came out, along with a couple of my own comments on it:

Friends, I’ve been finally selected for admission into the MBA Program of IBA, Dhaka University. …… feeling happy. ……. HATS OFF to Sharmeen didi, Ira madam & Romel bhai!!

# My dear friends….. Your gorgeous presence on my wall makes me think twice about the POWER of friendship & the MAGIC of love. YES……… They matter!! I just want to be with you forever. Please never say GOODBYE…. It hurts!! Your kindness and care mean a lot to me. You’ve always given me much more than I really deserve. Please accept my sincere GRATITUDE.

Happy Social Networking!!

Long live Facebook!!

My best wishes for our Friendship!!

……… Love you all ……

# (To one of my close friends) Dost, not reaching the Interview Session on 17 January at 5:30 pm was what I thought to be….. reaching there in time was what was written in my DESTINY….. And, I ended up calling it a MIRACLE, something I never believed in before…… Just have a look at the schedule of 17 January……

International Affairs Exam (BCS written exam)…. 10:00 am — 1:00 pm

The departure time of the GMG Airlines: 3:20 pm, there was a delay of about 1 hour due to fog and I availed another delayed flight of Bangladesh Biman at 4:37 pm.

The plane landed on Dhaka Airport at 5:13 pm and then I started my fight against time to meet the deadline by bike with Romel bhai!! Who managed those three saviours (Sharmeen didi, Ira madam & Romel bhai) for me? I don’t know. You better ask the Heaven! I saw such a breath-taking motor-bike driving only in English movies. Before that day, I had never thought I would experience it!!

Life is sometimes stranger than fiction . . . . Who can tell it better than I?

# (To one of my senior high-profile Indian friends) Thank you Sir for your words of felicitation. IBA of Dhaka University is considered as the most prestigious institute for doing MBA in Bangladesh. As per the rules of that Business School, the Major/Field of Specialization is allowed to be chosen at the final semester judging the academic records & intention of a candidate. I don’t have much idea about what to choose and why to choose. Please share some ideas on it as you’ve huge practical knowledge (so far as I know) about the present corporate trend.

You’ve nicely stated the trend of our careerist B-school graduates. No one really cares about their own aptitude, rather, tries to be what market wants them to be. Personally, I always like the decision-making and mainstream operational sections of giant companies. And, probably I’ll go for finance as my major when I’ve to choose it in my final semester. Yes, my semester results must be well enough to work on my advantage. That’ll be a story of one and a half years later. Till then, I’ll have to undergo the generalized curriculum as my B-school formulates. The recent economic recession worries our friends studying at the US universities. And, almost all of them suggest me not to plan of staying there. But at the same time, they suggest me completing my PhD in the US if I want to and grab that opportunity. Let’s wait and see. . . . . Are you in India now? Hope you’re quite OK along with your busy schedule. Please, sometimes give me your valuable suggestions when you’ve time and you’re here on Facebook. . . . . Thank you once again for your helpful advice. Take care.

In explaining the final part of the status shared above, I had written these words:

Let me share the Story behind the Story and elucidate the last part of my status. It would have been quite impossible for me to reach Dhaka University from Dhaka International Airport within just 50 minutes (!!) to attend the interview session of IBA in time on Jan 17, but for the cordial help of Sharmeen didi (Sharmeen Muiz) & Ira madam (Johora Bebe Ira). They’re the persons who made that miracle happen!! And, Romel bhai (Monirul Alam Romel) is the “Man with the Bike” who dared fight against time to meet the deadline!! ……. I feel honoured to express my heartfelt gratitude to these three saviours. …….. Miracles Happen When You Believe!!

I conclude this piece with a beautifully strange comment Sharmeen didi made on that status: “My prayers, good wishes, and prayers remain with you. Dear brother of mine, may you grow to great heights. And may the successful reflection of our efforts (Ira’s and mine) shine through in everything you do. I was there, I am here, I will be there. …….. Heaps of hugs and love.”

What sustains a human being? We live on love, on prayers, on good wishes. These are what keep me alive—quite well alive, in fact. My gratitude!

P.S. Let me offer you some practical wisdom. Those who think they know too much, who consider themselves supremely intelligent, who speak in grand terms without any real qualifications or notable position, who try to diminish others even through outright lies, who pontificate without knowledge, who speak to you in such a manner that you begin to doubt your own confidence—I would advise you to absolutely, absolutely, and absolutely avoid such people. They themselves cannot go very far in life, nor will they allow you to go very far either.

(Written 2-3 years ago)

I had never been on a plane before. I thought that wherever you go, you need a passport to fly. My elder brother called a friend who works with passport services and asked what documents are needed for an emergency passport to Dhaka. He burst out laughing! He said, “Buddy, what do you need a passport for? A plane and a bus are the same thing. One flies in the sky, the other runs on the road. That’s all there is to it! Just go buy a ticket. That’s it! Which one is good? You can go with GMG. That’s pretty good.” I didn’t know that you don’t have to rush to the airport to buy a plane ticket. I had no idea how much tickets cost. Getting off the bus in the morning, I went straight to a Dutch-Bangla Bank booth and withdrew ten thousand taka. Then I jumped into a CNG and rushed to the airport. I bought a ticket from the GMG Airlines counter for the 3:20 flight on Monday, the 17th. That was the first Chittagong-Dhaka flight of the afternoon. I booked a return ticket for the same day on the 7:45 evening flight. I felt like I could see it right before my eyes—me attending classes at IBA! Such a strange vision! I returned home with a victorious smile, almost as if I had already gotten into IBA! At night, I tried to prepare from various guides and the internet about what they might ask in the IBA interview. I studied for about 4-5 hours. At the same time, I posted a status on Facebook: How much time does it take to reach Dhaka University from Dhaka International Airport? Is it possible to reach in 40 minutes? Friends, any suggestion, please? I was truly a very simple person back then. I saw the world in very simple terms. Since I hadn’t visited Dhaka much, I didn’t know that in 2011 it wasn’t possible to get from the airport to Shahbag in 40 minutes. Everyone was saying it would take a minimum of two hours to get from the airport to the university campus in the afternoon. All sorts of bizarre comments came in reply to my status. Many started making fun of me. I’ll share some of my friends’ suggestions: “It’s possible if you run.” “It would be great if you jogged to the university. You’d get your evening exercise too!” “You shouldn’t have bought that plane ticket! With that money, if you had thrown us a party, we all would have prayed together and your BCS would have worked out! Hahahaha…..” “Young man! You’re young, just run as soon as you get off the plane! You’ll see, you’ll reach before time!” “Listen, such-and-such bus runs on such-and-such route. Hanging and sleeping, you’ll reach IBA just fine!” I got many such absurd comments. I knew absolutely nothing about Dhaka then. When you’re in trouble, doesn’t everyone have to give you a kick? It began to feel like that’s just how life is! People can’t extend a hand to pull you up, but they can certainly extend a foot to kick you down! Without getting the least bit discouraged by anyone’s words, I kept waiting to see if someone would give some good advice. I didn’t react to anyone’s reply that day. How helplessly calm a person becomes when in trouble. All I knew was this: “I’m giving my IBA interview on the 17th.” One person wrote, “You can go by bike. There’s no faster way to reach the university campus.” Some people even supported that idea. A few mentioned taxi cabs. Support was strongest for the bike option. Up until then, I had ridden a bike maybe 2-3 times in my entire life, counting generously. I didn’t really know anyone in Dhaka who had a bike, or if I did know someone, my mind wasn’t working at all then. Sometimes I think now, alas!

I couldn’t even afford to manage a bike at that time. I wrote, “My flight is scheduled to land at Dhaka Airport at 4.10 pm on 17 January. I must reach Dhaka University at or before 5.15 pm. I’ve an interview at IBA at that time. . . . Can’t I do it? Is it not possible? I need to do it at any cost. As I don’t know about the routes of Dhaka City, I’m asking for your help. Dhaka City is an unknown city to me. Can a taxi cab help me reach there in 1 hour? I can’t be late, otherwise I’ll miss the interview schedule. I’ve managed that schedule today through an application. . . Can a bike be a better solution? Or, something else? I’m in great trouble. . . .” After posting this, the mocking and laughter began all over again. I replied to the distinguished gentleman (one of Bangladesh’s most successful businessmen) who had advised me to jog there: “Thank you Sir for you ‘jogging’ suggestion. I was also seriously thinking of this option. Yes, I’ll surely manage to reach in time by vehicles, on foot, again by vehicles, again on foot . . . . And, I’ll go. I’ll be there in time by any means.” Someone said, “Change the schedule once more.” I wrote, “The schedule can’t be changed! Hopefully, there will happen some miracle and I’ll manage to avail the schedule in time.” A younger brother wrote, “Brother, you should go by taxi-cab. But you could try the bus once. Dhaka buses run quite well!” I replied, “Brother, I’m not surely making any attempt of getting on a bus! That’ll be horrible, you know. I was just seeking for a suggestion as I don’t know about the route. Thanks for the suggestion. I think a CNG powered taxi can help me in this regard. A taxi-cab is prone to getting stuck up in the congestion forever. A bike could be a better solution. But, I can’t manage it.”

Mrs. Zohra, whose name was Ira—an extremely distinguished lady—commented, “You need a bike?” “That would be wonderful.” “Alright, let me see what I can do.” She was the Deputy Managing Director of ONE Bank. After completing her studies in Chemistry from Chittagong University, she had done her MBA from IBA. She worked in the corporate sector, but there were very few people who didn’t know her. I have a sister. Her name is Sharmin Muiz Khan. At that time, she was one of those rare souls who loved someone as insignificant as me far more than necessary, showered me with affection for no particular reason. She was almost my mother’s age, but I addressed her as ‘tumi’ and she called me ‘tui’. She had studied English Literature at Dhaka University. She particularly loved my writing. She was a business magnate and had connections with many prominent people. I have rarely seen a lady as distinguished, refined, elegant, and utterly graceful as her. She commented, “Bappi, someone needs to grab you and give you a good thrashing. Are you enjoying confusing everyone by calling them all the time? Please stop wasting your time browsing Facebook and concentrate on tomorrow’s exam. Otherwise, you’re calling for another disaster. There is a saying: ‘Que sera, sera’ meaning: Whatever will be, will be. So, pray and try your best. I have given this opinion after a lot of serious thoughts. Please follow it. You will leave here right now. I don’t want to see you making even one more comment! MIRACLES HAPPEN IF YOU BELIEVE IN YOURSELF!” I replied, “Didi, things are that they’re. Things will be that they will be. And, between this two there lie some miracles that we’re never aware of. And, miracles are often stranger than facts. Facts are because they’re. Miracles are because we or someone else wants them to be. That’s the truth!” She called Mrs. Zohra. She said, “Look Ira, my brother has gotten into a bit of trouble. The poor thing is a simple soul, we should do something for him. Can’t you arrange a bike for him?” A little while later, I saw a message from Mrs. Zohra in my inbox: “Please give me your contact number. Regards” I gave it immediately. The call came within seconds. After introducing herself, she said, “You need a bike Monday at 4 PM, right?” “That would be wonderful.” “OK, a bike will be there for you at 4. My colleague Romel will pick you. Alright?” “I am truly, truly grateful. Thank you so very much!” “Let’s get the work done first, then you can thank me. I’m texting you Romel’s number. Take care.” She hung up immediately. I wrote to her: “Life is stranger than fiction, I repeat. From myself, I’ve got much less than I truly deserve. From others, I’ve got much more than I truly deserve. Is it the thing that they call miracle? I don’t know and never try to know. I let miracles happen and thankfully they always happen . . . . . . . Thank you for your generous approach. This really means a lot to me.” I wrote my piece. I don’t know if she ever read it or had the time to read it. Noble souls don’t wait for thanks. Besides, she was truly, truly busy.

He was the head of the credit section at One Bank. He had no reason to know a nobody like me, yet he knew me through my writing. Otherwise, I would never have had the privilege of speaking with him directly. And the fact that Sharmin didi had spoken to him about me—that was a big deal too. The next day was the Bangladesh Affairs Paper 2 exam. I went to sleep without studying any of it. The day after, straight from the exam hall, I went to the Westex showroom at Probortak intersection. My life’s first interview. I was incredibly excited! I had decided I’d go to the interview board wearing everything brand new. I bought a formal white shirt, black pants, black tie, black belt, black socks, white undershirt, and brown shoes. Later, from Gallery Apex I bought formal Oxford shoes, and from Time Zone a Titan wristwatch, then returned home in the evening. Seeing my antics, Ma was laughing. “Ma, why are you laughing?” “Just because, dear.” The funny thing was, Ma went with me to the exam hall every single day. She always kept me close, just like a child. Ma said, “Tomorrow I’m going to the airport with you.” And she did go—despite my protests.

Monday, the 17th. International Affairs exam. I couldn’t stay in the exam hall for the entire time due to nerves. I don’t have a car, what if the CNG takes too long to reach the airport! What if I miss the flight! The flight was at 3:20. And it takes at least 2 hours to reach the airport from Omar Gani MES College by 1 PM. Our written exam had been during winter. In the bitter cold, my fingers would freeze. Still, I kept rubbing my palms together to warm them, blowing hot breath into the hollow of my cupped hands, and wrote with all my strength. Instead of 1 o’clock, I finished the exam at 12:30, submitted my paper, and rushed out. When I emerged from the hall and reached the gate, everyone thought I must have been expelled! The intense stress was clearly written all over my face. Many showed me sympathy, told me not to worry, advised me to do better in the next BCS. I didn’t have time to respond. What could I say anyway—at that moment, life itself was one giant question mark for me! I don’t know what strength possessed my mother. She ran almost twice as fast as me, covering the distance from the college campus to the road. We got into a CNG without bargaining, paying nearly one and a half times the normal fare. I told the driver, “However you manage it, get us to the airport within two hours. If necessary, I’ll pay you extra.” It was 12:50 on the clock. The CNG started speeding. Mother opened the tiffin box and fed me khichuri, meat, and fried egg. One thought kept spinning in my head: “Will I catch the plane? If we get stuck in traffic, it’s all over!” I took off my sweater. I had left home that morning wearing my viva outfit, everything except the tie. After escaping two minor traffic jams, when we reached the airport, it was 5 minutes to 3. As soon as I got down, I touched my mother’s and aunt’s feet in respect (a distant aunt had come with us since mother couldn’t return home from the airport alone) and ran to the counter. There I learned that the flight was delayed by an hour due to dense fog. I thought, if the plane leaves at that time, there’s no way I can reach IBA by 5:15. I informed the counter staff about this. They said there was nothing they could do; they were very sorry. I inquired and learned that no other flights were departing at that time either. At that moment, I felt utterly helpless, just wanting to cry. I felt like I had no one, no one at all! I kept going from counter to counter. I found out there was a Bangladesh Biman flight departing at 3:45. There was no other flight before that. It was a bigger plane, taking 30 minutes to reach, whereas other planes take at least 40 minutes. Meaning, I would reach Dhaka airport by 4:15! I bought the ticket right then. There was great hope in my heart—if this one leaves on time, there’s nothing more to worry about. I went to the airport restroom and quickly put on my tie. I adjusted my shirt once more. Looking in the mirror, I fixed my hair with my hand. The clock hand crossed 4 after passing 3:45. The plane was delayed due to fog. We all boarded the plane at 4:15. It was my first time on a plane. I kept thinking, when will it take off, when will it take off! Every second felt like an hour! The tension was making it hard to breathe, yet the plane wouldn’t take off. I thought, oh! If only I could spend all my strength to make this plane soar into the sky! I pressed my handkerchief over my eyes to hide my tears. Finally, the plane took off. It was 4:37 on the clock. I was thinking, oh!

The plane could have taken off directly without taxiing! At least a couple of minutes would have been saved! The plane landed on Dhaka’s runway at 5:13.

I burst out of the domestic terminal running with all my might, and gasping for breath, I saw a motorcycle come to a stop right in front of me. “You’re Sushanta, right? Get on the back!” I extended my hand to shake hands with the young man in the black helmet. He didn’t raise his black-gloved right fist for a handshake. “Time’s wasting, brother! Please get on! Quick!” I didn’t argue further. “You’re not used to riding bikes, are you?” “Yes. How did you know?” “Brother, I’ve been riding bikes for the past 18-20 years. I can tell.” “I see.” “Lean forward and press your chest firmly against my back! You can even wrap your arms around me, otherwise you’ll get thrown off. For sure! I’m going to ride fast.” The way that bike tore out of the airport—I don’t have the courage to even think about it today. Under normal circumstances, I might have screamed in fear and told him to stop, or I really would have been thrown off. But at that moment I knew that being afraid was important, but far more important was reaching IBA alive. I don’t know if the wheels of that 150cc bike actually touched the ground that day, but for the second time in my life I understood this truth: you cannot frighten someone who stakes their life to touch their dreams. I had only seen bikes racing so recklessly on the roads in movies. The bike was literally cutting through the whooshing sound of wind, as if flying through the air! “Say brother, are you somebody really important?” “What do you mean?” “Well, Madam told me that one of her very important friends had to be delivered from the airport to IBA within half an hour, no matter what. That was her order! Who are you, brother? Hahahaha………” “I’m Madam’s Facebook friend.” “What are you saying, man? How’s that possible! I was thinking even more… you mean you’ve never even met her?” “No, brother. Why?” (There’s a railway crossing ahead. The barrier is coming down.) “Brother, duck your head a little.” Saying this, he quickly rode the bike under the barrier without obeying the signal. Many people behind us were shouting for us to stop. “Brother, just don’t be afraid. Nothing will happen. You can close your eyes if you want.” Right at that moment, while quickly emerging from between two trucks standing side by side, he said, “Sit a bit smaller, brother!” A little further ahead—massive traffic jam at a signal! Romel bhai lifted the bike onto the sidewalk. “Brother, please give way a little, give way a little,” he kept saying as he raced forward. He had to do this several times. Sometimes when riding on the central divider in the middle of the road, traffic police would catch us, and he’d say in a tearful voice, “Sir, my aunt is fighting for her life in the medical college. I’m going to donate blood. O-negative blood—we can’t find any. If I don’t reach on time, we won’t be able to save my aunt, sir!” He’d manage the police with this story and then race off at the same speed again! Whenever there was a traffic jam on the road, he’d immediately change to another road. That day I learned that when obstacles appear on the road, it doesn’t mean there is no road. Rather, it means you have to take a different road! Right now!! I had only seen such daredevil biking in Hollywood action movies. Looking at my hair in the bike’s mirror, it seemed as if it had stood up straight after an electric shock! My face was covered with dust from the city. In the fierce wind, my tie was flying behind me in the air. I don’t know if anyone has ever seen a bike race so recklessly through Dhaka’s roads during rush hour. But for some reason, I truly wasn’t afraid at all. I kept thinking over and over, “How quickly can one reach IBA!” Romel bhai had finished his honors and master’s from Dhaka College before joining the bank. I had asked him, “What’s your designation at the bank?” He had joked, “Not much, just 14 more promotions and I’ll be able to sit in Zohra Madam’s chair. Hahaha…….”

When I arrived in front of IBA, my watch showed 5:52. As I got down, I saw my younger brother Pappu and his friend Arefin standing there. At that time, I had my gift shop ‘Dobhana.’ Pappu and Arefin were my working partners. They often came to Dhaka from Chawk Bazaar in Old Dhaka to buy wholesale goods for the shop. I had withdrawn myself from the shop to focus on my BCS exam preparation. They ran everything. They were already in Dhaka on shop business. I had told them to go to the IBA MBA program office and keep me updated by phone about the viva board situation. Through repeated conversations with them, I was checking whether the interview board was still there, asking them to go to the program office and explain that I couldn’t arrive on time due to flight delays, terrible traffic jams, and so on. As soon as I got down, they informed me, “Bhaiya, the board left 4-5 minutes ago. Now only the Executive MBA viva remains.” After introducing them to Romel bhai, I rushed up to the MBA program office on the second floor. As soon as they saw me, everyone there stopped their work and looked at me. I saw Rahi Sir busy with something; he didn’t respond to my greeting. “Sir, I’m very late. Despite trying hard, I couldn’t arrive on time. I…” Without giving me a chance to say anything more, he shouted, “You Idiot! Get out!” “Sir, I…” “I said, Get out! Out! Out!! I knew very well that you wouldn’t be able to come on time. Is it possible to take one exam in Chittagong and then come to Dhaka for another exam? That easy? You’ve just wasted my time! I had told everyone that a boy from Chittagong would come at 5:15, and we needed to take his viva. Did you think I am a joker?” “Sir, I came here with great difficulty. The flight was delayed, there was heavy traffic on the road. I really…” “It’s none of my business! Get out! Go back where you came from.” “Sir, I had many dreams of studying at IBA.” “Everyone on the street has such dreams. I gave you a chance but you missed it. That’s all! Get out of here.” “Sir, please have some mercy…” (I felt like falling at his feet and crying…) Right beside him sat a gentle-looking gentleman much younger than the sir. He said, “Sir, I’ve heard about him. His younger brother kept coming to our program office. They had been standing in front of the office for hours. His flight was indeed delayed. And there’s heavy traffic in Dhaka today too. A friend of mine came to my room from the airport a while ago; it took him a long time to get here too. Give him a chance, Sir. He’s come so far, taking such risks with great difficulty! He apparently has another written exam tomorrow too. The poor fellow has to return to Chittagong today itself.” “Son, you junior faculty members don’t even know what you’re saying, what kind of requests you make. Why are you pleading for him? Is he your relative or something?” “No no Sir, I’m seeing him for the first time today. Just look at his face once, Sir. He’s really come here with great difficulty. Please do him a favor, Sir.” “You have no idea what you are talking about! Will the Executive MBA viva be the same as theirs? They have 3 years of job experience, while these are just children in comparison!

“This won’t be possible, brother. I am sorry!” “Sir, please help the poor fellow a bit. He’s come such a long way with so much hope!” “Son, we can’t manage anything more for you!” I stood a little distance away, head bowed. Looking at me, he called out loudly, “Hey, stupid! Why are you standing there like a donkey? Go on, go to the third floor! Go and stand there absolutely quietly. We’ll call you.” I truly couldn’t understand whether such a beautiful moment had ever come anywhere in this world before! Tears began streaming down my face. I prayed again and again from my heart for Babu sir. Rahi sir seemed like a father figure to me. I kept remembering mother’s words: “Never get angry at teachers’ scolding. When teachers scold, it means blessings.” Overwhelmed with emotion, as I was about to leave after thanking and saluting the teachers, Rahi sir called from behind, “Hey crazy boy! Comb your hair before entering the board! Wash your face at the basin! Don’t be so scared! Hahaha…” I couldn’t say anything more. I kept staring blankly at sir’s face. My cheeks were wet with tears from both eyes. Babu sir placed his hand on my shoulder and said, “Go on, go upstairs and wait. We are not that much bad people as you thought us to be. Sometimes even the IBA faculties are too good! Freshen up, give your interview properly, now there’s no tension anymore. What’s your exam tomorrow?” “Sir, Mathematical Reasoning and Mental Ability.” “How will you go?” “Sir, I have a return plane ticket.” “Good! Brother, splash some water on your eyes and face to fix your appearance. Give your viva quickly and rush to the airport! Good luck!” At that moment I felt like touching sir’s feet in salute. People get frightened by sudden intense love. For the first time, it suddenly struck me: “What if I can’t honor this love of my teachers? What if I don’t get a chance at IBA in the end?”

When we find ourselves in trouble, if our intentions are pure, a way out always emerges! I went to the washroom on the third floor and tried my best to “make myself presentable” by wetting my hair and smoothing it down. After splashing water on my face, I went and waited in front of the notice board. I was called after 10 minutes. It was nearly seven o’clock. When I entered the room, I saw many faculty members seated there. I hadn’t known that so many would be present for an interview. I thought this was perhaps how IBA interviews were conducted. I later learned that this entire panel had been assembled just for me. Apart from Babu Sir and Rahi Sir, I didn’t recognize anyone else. After getting admitted, I realized that those present that evening were IBA’s most senior and accomplished faculty members. The board included Saiful Majid Sir, Shama-e-Zahir Sir, Mamun Sir, Munir Khosru Sir, Niaz Sir, and Saif Noman Khan Sir. Most of the junior faculty had finished their interviews and gone home, while some senior faculty were in their offices conducting Executive MBA interviews. Some of them had been specially called in. I was in the interview for about 18-20 minutes. Many of the faculty members knew about my situation that day. I had heard of something called “divine possession” in life. At certain special moments, due to particular external influences or circumstances, people suddenly gain extraordinary power. In those moments, they step outside their normal state and display different behavior. They can harness the utmost potential of their inner infinite strength. In that wondrous balanced fusion of emotion and capability, the best version of themselves emerges. From the moment I entered the interview room, I had very likely become a different person, or perhaps the very best ‘me’ from within had emerged that day. By what divine signal this happened, I don’t know. No hesitation, doubt, nervousness, fear, the day’s exhaustion, or lethargy was affecting me at all. I felt incredibly composed and light as a feather. It felt as though whatever I was saying or doing was the best possible. I was experiencing the finest moment of my life right then and there. I can say with complete honesty that the style in which I spoke English that day—I have never in my entire life, even to this day, been able to speak English so flawlessly and fluently. That day the faculty members engaged in various kinds of humor during the interview. They were having great fun with me. Most likely, the faculty wanted to “shake me up” somehow. I don’t know why, by whose indication I don’t know, but I kept answering all their questions one by one with a very cool head and a smile that day. They interviewed me in English on various diverse topics, starting from describing the entire day’s events and the preceding Facebook incidents to many other subjects. (Of course, at IBA there’s absolutely no opportunity to give interviews in Bengali.) Why I wanted to pursue an MBA, why IBA if I was going to take government job exams anyway, my weaknesses, whether I’d ever been in love, how I spend my leisure time, some conversation about reading books, various economic issues of Bangladesh, some personal and family matters, my future plans, the breathless motorcycle journey from A to Z, the BCS examination system, why I went into engineering despite having no interest, why I delayed my honors degree, why I didn’t study properly, why my CGPA was so low, what I like to eat, what kind of personality I prefer in people, what I know about IBA, some current affairs, and several other questions. I was answering very quickly in correct English. The faculty praised this too. I gave a very simple, straightforward, and candid interview. I didn’t speak a single false word that day.

I didn’t need to think before speaking—whatever came to mind, I simply said, so there was no chance to fabricate lies. At the end, they asked me to sing a song. When I said, “I can’t, Sir,” Babu Sir showed me my info-form and laughed, saying, “But you’ve claimed so.” I had written Reading, Writing, Singing in the hobbies section… At that moment, it felt like I was living the best day of my life. I sang, “Aaj ei dintake…” “I see, we’re getting a singer for our cultural program!” As Saiful Majid Sir was saying this, Babu Sir interjected, “Sir, he has another exam tomorrow. He’ll probably be flying back to Chittagong tonight.” Then three or four teachers exclaimed in unison, “What! He’s going back to Chittagong right now? Well then, run along, run along! Go downstairs and see if your superman biker is there! Hahahaha…” As I was leaving with my salaam, the teachers called out, “Best of luck for your tomorrow’s exam.” I kept thinking, again and again—I’ll make it, I’ll make it! (Even after giving the BCS viva, I didn’t feel this good.)

When I stepped out of IBA, it was half past seven on the clock. I knew there was no way I could catch the 7:45 flight. I also knew that I had no idea how I would get to Chittagong that night. I didn’t even feel like thinking about it. Only the exhilarating rush of having given a good exam was coursing through me. Pappu and Arefin had been waiting for me at Madhu’s canteen. Taking them along, I went to the front of Dhaka University’s Central Library and leisurely began eating vegetable pakoras and tea. Many of my students studied in various departments at Dhaka University. Quite a few came to see me. They were asking what questions had been asked in the interview. After a day of incredible experiences, my head had become almost entirely empty. I couldn’t understand why I wasn’t feeling the slightest urgency to return to Chittagong. Pappu asked, “Brother, will you take the night bus?” I said, “Yes, that could work.” (It amuses me now to think how casually I had said ‘that could work’!) The road conditions weren’t good then either, there were always traffic jams. It didn’t even occur to me—what would happen if I couldn’t reach by 10 AM tomorrow? Ripon, a dear younger brother who lived in Chittagong and was one of my former students, said, “Brother, I have a non-AC train ticket; for Turna Nishitha, leaving tonight. It doesn’t matter if I don’t go to Chittagong today. Brother, you take it.” “Alright, fine,” I said, took the ticket, and set off toward Kamalapur Station. That night the train left nearly an hour and a half late. I didn’t even want to think about what was going to happen! I had already surrendered myself to fate long before. In my mind I kept repeating only this: whatever will be, will be. Whether I want it or not, it will happen. And whatever is happening is surely for the good; whatever will happen will surely be for the good too. Let’s see! After the day’s exhaustion, I had a very peaceful sleep. Suddenly I woke up hearing commotion around me. The train had stopped at Comilla. Apparently there was some problem with the line. We were delayed there for nearly two and a quarter hours. I couldn’t understand why I wasn’t feeling any kind of anxiety! I fell asleep again. Sleep is the world’s only faithful lover. Whenever I want it, I find it near. Never, under any circumstances, does it abandon me. There can be no purer love than the love for sleep.

When the train reached Chittagong railway station the next day, it was a quarter to ten in the morning. My exam was scheduled to start at ten. It takes only fifteen minutes to get from the station to my house. When I got home, I found my mother sitting there with everything ready in her hands—my pencil box, board, scale, pen, calculator, admit card, registration card, all of it. My parents had been terribly anxious at home. I hadn’t been able to speak to them since after half past one at night. My mobile had run out of charge. (I was using a cheap Nokia 1100 mobile set back then. Everyone called it the “national set”! It was so sturdy that many would joke, “Dude, you could crack jackfruit with that phone!” I’d tease my friends who used expensive mobiles, saying, “My phone’s model is ‘N Eleven Zero Zero’!”) As soon as my mother saw me, she said, “Dear, how are you? Will you take today’s exam?” I felt emotionally numb. It seemed as though I was lighter than a feather at that moment, floating around in some kind of trance! I smiled and said, “Ma, I’m perfectly fine. I’ll take the exam.” Saying this, I took the packed shopping bag from my mother’s hands and left the house just as I was. It was 10:05 on the clock. From our house to the exam center, it takes at least thirty minutes by CNG during office hours. When I reached the college gate, it was 10:43. That day was the mathematical reasoning and mental ability test. The first two hours were mathematical reasoning, followed by one hour of mental ability. The exam had already started forty-three minutes earlier. Naturally, the police wouldn’t let me enter. I pleaded extensively, kept trying futilely to explain what had happened, but they weren’t willing to listen to anything. But I had made up my mind—I wasn’t going to turn back, I would get inside no matter what. A small commotion started gathering there. Seeing the crowd, the magistrate came over. After hearing my entire story, he said, “You only have one hour left. Can you finish all the math problems in this time?” Without a moment’s hesitation, I said, “I can, sir!” “Alright, go ahead. Good luck!” My heart overflowed with gratitude toward him. At that moment, he seemed to me not human, but divine! I went in, looked at the questions, took the exam. I even showed three problems to the person sitting next to me. (He got a job in Audit and Accounts in the 30th batch.) I scored 98 on that day’s exam—50 in math, 48 in mental ability. After that… well, as everyone says—the rest is history!

But this much is true: had that day’s exam been something other than mathematics, I would have been in real trouble. I can handle math because the type of problems that appeared in the BCS written exam back then weren’t particularly difficult for me to solve. Such problems don’t strain the mind much, and the 30th BCS written exam featured relatively easy math. Even if I worked through each step carefully and added side notes, it shouldn’t have taken more than half an hour. It didn’t for me either. However, spending two and a half hours on the International Affairs exam the day before had been risky. Actually, no matter how incredible the whole affair might seem, everything appears to have been predetermined by the Creator or nature itself. What remains inexplicable to our limited understanding is simply a natural, ordinary occurrence for the Creator. All our failures and successes are already decided beforehand. But to reach that point, the effort—or making the right decision at the right time—that we must do ourselves. I wasn’t even supposed to pass my undergraduate degree. Yet it was my destiny to complete my undergraduate studies, become a BCS cadre, study at IBA—all of it was written in my fate. Had my destiny been bound elsewhere, I would have gone there instead. I had enrolled in another master’s program under Dhaka University—MDS. After continuing that course for three months, I left it of my own accord. They had said I would need to officially hide the fact that I was simultaneously pursuing another master’s at IBA. I refused to lie. I harbor no regret about this, though. I’ve accepted that pursuing that particular master’s degree simply wasn’t written in my destiny. This is the truth, this is reality. I had gained admission to Dhaka University’s Evening MBA program in Finance, ranking sixth on the merit list, but never had to attend classes there. I received my IBA admission test results before that. I did complete my master’s in Finance from Dhaka University, but the Evening MBA program wasn’t destined for me, so I didn’t pursue my master’s degree from there.

Stepping into two boats in the middle of a river ensures certain death. Logic dictates this. But I placed my feet in two boats, taking the maximum risk—I had no other choice—yet both boats moved forward in parallel at the same speed at the same time, so I didn’t slip between them and lose my life. What explanation could there be for this? Life doesn’t follow logic; life follows the Creator’s signals. Life doesn’t always operate according to explanations. Sometimes life moves on faith. So there’s nothing to say about anyone’s personal philosophy and the life they live according to their beliefs, as long as that life doesn’t interfere with someone else’s way of living. Somewhere, no explicable form of life can be seen, and life is just like this!

Through sheer mental strength alone, I had believed that some miracle would surely occur. It did happen, because in Providence’s master plan, that’s what was meant to happen. Everything in between was the Creator’s games or plans to test my patience and concentration. You will never be given a gift you don’t deserve. You will be tested, and if you fail to pass that test, you will deprive yourself of the Creator’s grace through your own fault. I’m sharing with you the Facebook status I posted after the IBA admission test results came out, along with a couple of my own comments on it:

Friends, I’ve been finally selected for admission into the MBA Program of IBA, Dhaka University. …… feeling happy. ……. HATS OFF to Sharmeen didi, Ira madam & Romel bhai!!

# My dear friends….. Your gorgeous presence on my wall makes me think twice about the POWER of friendship & the MAGIC of love. YES……… They matter!! I just want to be with you forever. Please never say GOODBYE…. It hurts!! Your kindness and care mean a lot to me. You’ve always given me much more than I really deserve. Please accept my sincere GRATITUDE.

Happy Social Networking!!

Long live Facebook!!

My best wishes for our Friendship!!

……… Love you all ……

# (To one of my close friends) Dost, not reaching the Interview Session on 17 January at 5:30 pm was what I thought to be….. reaching there in time was what was written in my DESTINY….. And, I ended up calling it a MIRACLE, something I never believed in before…… Just have a look at the schedule of 17 January……

International Affairs Exam (BCS written exam)…. 10:00 am — 1:00 pm

The departure time of the GMG Airlines: 3:20 pm, there was a delay of about 1 hour due to fog and I availed another delayed flight of Bangladesh Biman at 4:37 pm.

The plane landed on Dhaka Airport at 5:13 pm and then I started my fight against time to meet the deadline by bike with Romel bhai!! Who managed those three saviours (Sharmeen didi, Ira madam & Romel bhai) for me? I don’t know. You better ask the Heaven! I saw such a breath-taking motor-bike driving only in English movies. Before that day, I had never thought I would experience it!!

Life is sometimes stranger than fiction . . . . Who can tell it better than I?

# (To one of my senior high-profile Indian friends) Thank you Sir for your words of felicitation. IBA of Dhaka University is considered as the most prestigious institute for doing MBA in Bangladesh. As per the rules of that Business School, the Major/Field of Specialization is allowed to be chosen at the final semester judging the academic records & intention of a candidate. I don’t have much idea about what to choose and why to choose. Please share some ideas on it as you’ve huge practical knowledge (so far as I know) about the present corporate trend.

You’ve nicely stated the trend of our careerist B-school graduates. No one really cares about their own aptitude, rather, tries to be what market wants them to be. Personally, I always like the decision-making and mainstream operational sections of giant companies. And, probably I’ll go for finance as my major when I’ve to choose it in my final semester. Yes, my semester results must be well enough to work on my advantage. That’ll be a story of one and a half years later. Till then, I’ll have to undergo the generalized curriculum as my B-school formulates. The recent economic recession worries our friends studying at the US universities. And, almost all of them suggest me not to plan of staying there. But at the same time, they suggest me completing my PhD in the US if I want to and grab that opportunity. Let’s wait and see. . . . . Are you in India now? Hope you’re quite OK along with your busy schedule. Please, sometimes give me your valuable suggestions when you’ve time and you’re here on Facebook. . . . . Thank you once again for your helpful advice. Take care.

In explaining the final part of the status shared above, I had written these words:

Let me share the Story behind the Story and elucidate the last part of my status. It would have been quite impossible for me to reach Dhaka University from Dhaka International Airport within just 50 minutes (!!) to attend the interview session of IBA in time on Jan 17, but for the cordial help of Sharmeen didi (Sharmeen Muiz) & Ira madam (Johora Bebe Ira). They’re the persons who made that miracle happen!! And, Romel bhai (Monirul Alam Romel) is the “Man with the Bike” who dared fight against time to meet the deadline!! ……. I feel honoured to express my heartfelt gratitude to these three saviours. …….. Miracles Happen When You Believe!!

I conclude this piece with a beautifully strange comment Sharmeen didi made on that status: “My prayers, good wishes, and prayers remain with you. Dear brother of mine, may you grow to great heights. And may the successful reflection of our efforts (Ira’s and mine) shine through in everything you do. I was there, I am here, I will be there. …….. Heaps of hugs and love.”

What sustains a human being? We live on love, on prayers, on good wishes. These are what keep me alive—quite well alive, in fact. My gratitude!

P.S. Let me offer you some practical wisdom. Those who think they know too much, who consider themselves supremely intelligent, who speak in grand terms without any real qualifications or notable position, who try to diminish others even through outright lies, who pontificate without knowledge, who speak to you in such a manner that you begin to doubt your own confidence—I would advise you to absolutely, absolutely, and absolutely avoid such people. They themselves cannot go very far in life, nor will they allow you to go very far either.

(Written 2-3 years ago)

I thought, why should I surrender before I’ve even lost? I’ll see this through to the end. At home, my parents were also saying, “Give up one of them.” My heart was telling me, “I won’t give up, not for anything!” Let me gamble with life this once and see what happens! You have to listen to your heart. I called the MBA Program Office. Zakir bhai was in charge there. He said, “IBA’s schedule doesn’t change for anyone. You change your schedule.” I said, “That’s not possible. You have several slots. BCS has only one.” Even after that he said, “It’s not possible in any way. We’re sorry!” Saying this, he hung up the phone, and my stubbornness only grew stronger. I put aside studying for the next day’s exam. After some inquiries, I learned that Rahi Sir was the Program Chairman for IBA’s MBA at the time. Only he could change my interview slot if he wanted to. Rahi Sir is an incredibly fierce person. IBA’s Marketing Department is the best in Bangladesh. Rahi Sir is the best faculty in that department. I got his number. The person I got the number from asked, “Are you really going to call Rahi Sir?” “Yes. Why?” “We students never dare to call Sir. And you’re going to call him for this?” “I will. I have to. My back is against the wall.” “God bless you, man! You better think twice.” I said, “Sometimes life doesn’t give you the opportunity to think twice. It’s the first and the only chance! I must grab it before it’s too late! I will call him. I’ll make my attempt—if it works, it works; if not, so be it. If I don’t try, it definitely won’t work. Thank you, bhai!” Right after finishing that conversation, without any second thoughts, I called Rahi Sir. A man with an extremely serious voice. It’s frightening just to speak with him. But I have nothing left to lose. I only know this: I passed IBA’s written exam and IBA has to conduct my interview. I had truly become reckless. I blurted out my entire problem in one breath. Rahi Sir said, “You silly kid! You’ve dared to call Rahi Sir for this! Did you think I am your friend? It’s not my business whether you can attend the viva board or not. You have only 2 choices: Leave IBA, or, Leave BCS.” To my infinite amazement, I heard myself saying, “Sir, I have called you to hear about the third choice. If you don’t have that, please make it for me. I know I’ll be at IBA.” Sir said very loudly over the phone, “You are a stupid little boy. You just know nothing about the things here! Don’t waste my time. I am busy!” “Sir, please give me a chance. I am………” I couldn’t make him hear any more—he hung up before that. I couldn’t understand what had happened, only felt an even stronger desire to believe that I would definitely study at IBA. BCS seemed to fade for a moment. Whatever happens in tomorrow’s exam will happen. Right now I need to sort out the IBA situation first. I called the program office again.

I asked, “When can I actually meet Rahi sir?” “What do you mean?” “Sir told me to come see him.” “Ask sir himself when you can actually meet him.” (I mustered the courage to lie….) “Sir said to call the program office and find out.” “He told you to ask us? Really! Alright, stay on the line, let me check sir’s class schedule.” Zakir bhai informed me that if I came next Friday evening, I could meet sir. Saying “thank you very much,” I hung up the phone and immediately left home to buy a bus ticket. From near Gariullah Shah’s shrine in Chittagong, I bought a ticket on Unique’s non-AC bus to Dhaka for Thursday night. The next day, under tremendous mental pressure, I took my Bangladesh Studies Paper 1 exam. Even in the exam hall, my mind kept racing: “Will Rahi sir keep his word?” In my answer sheet, I mistakenly wrote the word “Rahi” several times, though I crossed it out later.

I arrived at IBA before afternoon on Friday. I stood waiting in front of the MBA Program Office. Zakir bhai wasn’t there at the time—he came in the evening, two hours later. I went up and introduced myself. “Oh, I see, you’ve come from Chittagong. Rahi sir mentioned he would speak with you about changing your interview schedule? Really??” “Yes, he told me to come see him!” We were talking when Rahi sir arrived shortly after. He went straight through the program office into his room. A dignified man of serious disposition. His office was right next to the program office. Zakir bhai said, “Please sit on the sofa. Let me ask sir if he’s free right now.” When he told sir, “Someone named Sushanta Pal has come from Chittagong to see you—you had asked him to come,” sir immediately shouted quite loudly, “I didn’t ask anyone to come see me! Tell him to leave. Disgusting!” Zakir bhai told me, “Sir won’t see you. You should go.” “I’ll leave, but only after meeting with sir. Brother, I haven’t come here to turn back. I must see him.” Almost forcefully, I entered sir’s room without permission. After I said very politely, “Assalamu alaikum, sir,” he returned the greeting and said, “What do you want?” There were several other students in the room who had come to sir for various matters. “Sir, I called you the day before yesterday evening.” “Is it my duty to remember your call? Get out!” I said nothing and stood there with my head bowed. The words “Get out!” didn’t register in my mind. At that moment, I only knew that I would speak with Rahi sir about changing the schedule, and sir would surely agree to do so. After standing like this for nearly half an hour, sir said, “Why are you standing here like a statue?” I fearfully placed an application about changing the time slot on sir’s desk and began to say, “Sir, the day before yesterday I spoke with you on the phone…” “Speak in the language I am using now.” “Sir, my interview has been scheduled for next Monday at 10 in the morning. I am appearing for the 30th BCS written exam. I have an exam at the same time. So, I request you to shift my schedule to another convenient time slot.” “Sorry, we cannot.” “Please Sir! Otherwise, my dream to be here will be shattered.” “Let it be. Just go for BCS. You will do better being a civil servant.” “But Sir, it’s uncertain.” “Is being here certain for you?” “No Sir, that’s why I cannot leave any of these 2 opportunities. Please Sir, give me a chance. Do me a favour. I will be ever grateful, Sir.” “What time is your exam?” “10 o’clock, sir.” “How long?” “Three hours, sir.” “Okay fine, come straight here after your exam. Can you make it by 1:30?” I realized sir had forgotten that I’d come from Chittagong. “Sir, I’m taking the exam from Chittagong.” “Stupid! We cannot change our schedule for you! Are you Mr President?” “No Sir, I just want to be your student! I will do anything you tell me to do. Please give me a chance, Sir!” “Look, brother, you won’t be able to finish your exam at 1 o’clock and come from Chittagong to take the interview anyway.

You won’t make it even if you leave at 10 PM. The roads are in terrible condition, there’s heavy traffic.” “Sir, I can come in the evening.” “How? By plane?” “Yes, sir. Please give me a chance, sir.” “Alright. Don’t you have an exam the next day?” “I do, sir. I can manage. I’ll buy a return ticket.” “What time can you arrive?” “Whatever you say, sir.” “Your exam will end at 1 PM. Hmm… okay, can you make it to the 3 o’clock board?” “Yes sir, I can be there at 3.” “Do you know if there are flights at that time?” “I don’t know, sir. I’ll find out.” “I think there’s a flight around 3.” “What time can you arrive?” “4 o’clock, sir?” “Foolish boy! Your brain isn’t working. How can you take a 3 o’clock flight from Chittagong and get from the airport to IBA by 4? You have no idea about Dhaka city. Okay, you come by 5:15 sharp. You will be last person in that board. If you come after that, nothing can be done. The evening board is for Executive MBA. It won’t be possible to hold your viva there. Okay?” “Thank you, sir.” “Youngman, you have decided to play with your life! Best of luck!” “Please pray for me, sir. I can do this!” Tears came to my eyes. I realized that though this man appeared stern on the outside, he was very gentle within. I offered many prayers for the sir and left IBA. I went to Aziz and bought some books. Then I went to Fakirapul and took the 10 PM non-AC bus from Unique, reaching Chittagong in the morning.

I’m sharing the application with you:

15 January 2011

The Program Director, MBA Program

Institute of Business Administration

University of Dhaka

Dhaka

Subject: Prayer for changing the time slot of the interview schedule of the MBA Program Admission

Sir,

This letter expresses my earnest request to change my interview schedule of the MBA Program Admission 2010-2011. I am a candidate for Full-Time Course, my admit number is 2745 and I am on Interview Board 6 scheduled to be conducted at the 10:00 am to 1:00 pm time slot on January 17, 2011. I am appearing at the 30th BCS written examination and my Examination Centre is at Chittagong. I have an examination on January 17, 2011, coincided with the same time slot of the interview and so it is not possible for me to come from Chittagong and attend the interview at 10:00 am.

I will be highly obliged if you kindly permit me to attend the interview at the 6:00 pm to 8:30 pm time slot scheduled for Evening Board 3 and Evening Board 4 on January 17, 2011.

Yours faithfully

Sushanta Paul

I had never been on a plane before. I thought that wherever you go, you need a passport to fly. My elder brother called a friend who works with passport services and asked what documents are needed for an emergency passport to Dhaka. He burst out laughing! He said, “Buddy, what do you need a passport for? A plane and a bus are the same thing. One flies in the sky, the other runs on the road. That’s all there is to it! Just go buy a ticket. That’s it! Which one is good? You can go with GMG. That’s pretty good.” I didn’t know that you don’t have to rush to the airport to buy a plane ticket. I had no idea how much tickets cost. Getting off the bus in the morning, I went straight to a Dutch-Bangla Bank booth and withdrew ten thousand taka. Then I jumped into a CNG and rushed to the airport. I bought a ticket from the GMG Airlines counter for the 3:20 flight on Monday, the 17th. That was the first Chittagong-Dhaka flight of the afternoon. I booked a return ticket for the same day on the 7:45 evening flight. I felt like I could see it right before my eyes—me attending classes at IBA! Such a strange vision! I returned home with a victorious smile, almost as if I had already gotten into IBA! At night, I tried to prepare from various guides and the internet about what they might ask in the IBA interview. I studied for about 4-5 hours. At the same time, I posted a status on Facebook: How much time does it take to reach Dhaka University from Dhaka International Airport? Is it possible to reach in 40 minutes? Friends, any suggestion, please? I was truly a very simple person back then. I saw the world in very simple terms. Since I hadn’t visited Dhaka much, I didn’t know that in 2011 it wasn’t possible to get from the airport to Shahbag in 40 minutes. Everyone was saying it would take a minimum of two hours to get from the airport to the university campus in the afternoon. All sorts of bizarre comments came in reply to my status. Many started making fun of me. I’ll share some of my friends’ suggestions: “It’s possible if you run.” “It would be great if you jogged to the university. You’d get your evening exercise too!” “You shouldn’t have bought that plane ticket! With that money, if you had thrown us a party, we all would have prayed together and your BCS would have worked out! Hahahaha…..” “Young man! You’re young, just run as soon as you get off the plane! You’ll see, you’ll reach before time!” “Listen, such-and-such bus runs on such-and-such route. Hanging and sleeping, you’ll reach IBA just fine!” I got many such absurd comments. I knew absolutely nothing about Dhaka then. When you’re in trouble, doesn’t everyone have to give you a kick? It began to feel like that’s just how life is! People can’t extend a hand to pull you up, but they can certainly extend a foot to kick you down! Without getting the least bit discouraged by anyone’s words, I kept waiting to see if someone would give some good advice. I didn’t react to anyone’s reply that day. How helplessly calm a person becomes when in trouble. All I knew was this: “I’m giving my IBA interview on the 17th.” One person wrote, “You can go by bike. There’s no faster way to reach the university campus.” Some people even supported that idea. A few mentioned taxi cabs. Support was strongest for the bike option. Up until then, I had ridden a bike maybe 2-3 times in my entire life, counting generously. I didn’t really know anyone in Dhaka who had a bike, or if I did know someone, my mind wasn’t working at all then. Sometimes I think now, alas!

I couldn’t even afford to manage a bike at that time. I wrote, “My flight is scheduled to land at Dhaka Airport at 4.10 pm on 17 January. I must reach Dhaka University at or before 5.15 pm. I’ve an interview at IBA at that time. . . . Can’t I do it? Is it not possible? I need to do it at any cost. As I don’t know about the routes of Dhaka City, I’m asking for your help. Dhaka City is an unknown city to me. Can a taxi cab help me reach there in 1 hour? I can’t be late, otherwise I’ll miss the interview schedule. I’ve managed that schedule today through an application. . . Can a bike be a better solution? Or, something else? I’m in great trouble. . . .” After posting this, the mocking and laughter began all over again. I replied to the distinguished gentleman (one of Bangladesh’s most successful businessmen) who had advised me to jog there: “Thank you Sir for you ‘jogging’ suggestion. I was also seriously thinking of this option. Yes, I’ll surely manage to reach in time by vehicles, on foot, again by vehicles, again on foot . . . . And, I’ll go. I’ll be there in time by any means.” Someone said, “Change the schedule once more.” I wrote, “The schedule can’t be changed! Hopefully, there will happen some miracle and I’ll manage to avail the schedule in time.” A younger brother wrote, “Brother, you should go by taxi-cab. But you could try the bus once. Dhaka buses run quite well!” I replied, “Brother, I’m not surely making any attempt of getting on a bus! That’ll be horrible, you know. I was just seeking for a suggestion as I don’t know about the route. Thanks for the suggestion. I think a CNG powered taxi can help me in this regard. A taxi-cab is prone to getting stuck up in the congestion forever. A bike could be a better solution. But, I can’t manage it.”

Mrs. Zohra, whose name was Ira—an extremely distinguished lady—commented, “You need a bike?” “That would be wonderful.” “Alright, let me see what I can do.” She was the Deputy Managing Director of ONE Bank. After completing her studies in Chemistry from Chittagong University, she had done her MBA from IBA. She worked in the corporate sector, but there were very few people who didn’t know her. I have a sister. Her name is Sharmin Muiz Khan. At that time, she was one of those rare souls who loved someone as insignificant as me far more than necessary, showered me with affection for no particular reason. She was almost my mother’s age, but I addressed her as ‘tumi’ and she called me ‘tui’. She had studied English Literature at Dhaka University. She particularly loved my writing. She was a business magnate and had connections with many prominent people. I have rarely seen a lady as distinguished, refined, elegant, and utterly graceful as her. She commented, “Bappi, someone needs to grab you and give you a good thrashing. Are you enjoying confusing everyone by calling them all the time? Please stop wasting your time browsing Facebook and concentrate on tomorrow’s exam. Otherwise, you’re calling for another disaster. There is a saying: ‘Que sera, sera’ meaning: Whatever will be, will be. So, pray and try your best. I have given this opinion after a lot of serious thoughts. Please follow it. You will leave here right now. I don’t want to see you making even one more comment! MIRACLES HAPPEN IF YOU BELIEVE IN YOURSELF!” I replied, “Didi, things are that they’re. Things will be that they will be. And, between this two there lie some miracles that we’re never aware of. And, miracles are often stranger than facts. Facts are because they’re. Miracles are because we or someone else wants them to be. That’s the truth!” She called Mrs. Zohra. She said, “Look Ira, my brother has gotten into a bit of trouble. The poor thing is a simple soul, we should do something for him. Can’t you arrange a bike for him?” A little while later, I saw a message from Mrs. Zohra in my inbox: “Please give me your contact number. Regards” I gave it immediately. The call came within seconds. After introducing herself, she said, “You need a bike Monday at 4 PM, right?” “That would be wonderful.” “OK, a bike will be there for you at 4. My colleague Romel will pick you. Alright?” “I am truly, truly grateful. Thank you so very much!” “Let’s get the work done first, then you can thank me. I’m texting you Romel’s number. Take care.” She hung up immediately. I wrote to her: “Life is stranger than fiction, I repeat. From myself, I’ve got much less than I truly deserve. From others, I’ve got much more than I truly deserve. Is it the thing that they call miracle? I don’t know and never try to know. I let miracles happen and thankfully they always happen . . . . . . . Thank you for your generous approach. This really means a lot to me.” I wrote my piece. I don’t know if she ever read it or had the time to read it. Noble souls don’t wait for thanks. Besides, she was truly, truly busy.

He was the head of the credit section at One Bank. He had no reason to know a nobody like me, yet he knew me through my writing. Otherwise, I would never have had the privilege of speaking with him directly. And the fact that Sharmin didi had spoken to him about me—that was a big deal too. The next day was the Bangladesh Affairs Paper 2 exam. I went to sleep without studying any of it. The day after, straight from the exam hall, I went to the Westex showroom at Probortak intersection. My life’s first interview. I was incredibly excited! I had decided I’d go to the interview board wearing everything brand new. I bought a formal white shirt, black pants, black tie, black belt, black socks, white undershirt, and brown shoes. Later, from Gallery Apex I bought formal Oxford shoes, and from Time Zone a Titan wristwatch, then returned home in the evening. Seeing my antics, Ma was laughing. “Ma, why are you laughing?” “Just because, dear.” The funny thing was, Ma went with me to the exam hall every single day. She always kept me close, just like a child. Ma said, “Tomorrow I’m going to the airport with you.” And she did go—despite my protests.

Monday, the 17th. International Affairs exam. I couldn’t stay in the exam hall for the entire time due to nerves. I don’t have a car, what if the CNG takes too long to reach the airport! What if I miss the flight! The flight was at 3:20. And it takes at least 2 hours to reach the airport from Omar Gani MES College by 1 PM. Our written exam had been during winter. In the bitter cold, my fingers would freeze. Still, I kept rubbing my palms together to warm them, blowing hot breath into the hollow of my cupped hands, and wrote with all my strength. Instead of 1 o’clock, I finished the exam at 12:30, submitted my paper, and rushed out. When I emerged from the hall and reached the gate, everyone thought I must have been expelled! The intense stress was clearly written all over my face. Many showed me sympathy, told me not to worry, advised me to do better in the next BCS. I didn’t have time to respond. What could I say anyway—at that moment, life itself was one giant question mark for me! I don’t know what strength possessed my mother. She ran almost twice as fast as me, covering the distance from the college campus to the road. We got into a CNG without bargaining, paying nearly one and a half times the normal fare. I told the driver, “However you manage it, get us to the airport within two hours. If necessary, I’ll pay you extra.” It was 12:50 on the clock. The CNG started speeding. Mother opened the tiffin box and fed me khichuri, meat, and fried egg. One thought kept spinning in my head: “Will I catch the plane? If we get stuck in traffic, it’s all over!” I took off my sweater. I had left home that morning wearing my viva outfit, everything except the tie. After escaping two minor traffic jams, when we reached the airport, it was 5 minutes to 3. As soon as I got down, I touched my mother’s and aunt’s feet in respect (a distant aunt had come with us since mother couldn’t return home from the airport alone) and ran to the counter. There I learned that the flight was delayed by an hour due to dense fog. I thought, if the plane leaves at that time, there’s no way I can reach IBA by 5:15. I informed the counter staff about this. They said there was nothing they could do; they were very sorry. I inquired and learned that no other flights were departing at that time either. At that moment, I felt utterly helpless, just wanting to cry. I felt like I had no one, no one at all! I kept going from counter to counter. I found out there was a Bangladesh Biman flight departing at 3:45. There was no other flight before that. It was a bigger plane, taking 30 minutes to reach, whereas other planes take at least 40 minutes. Meaning, I would reach Dhaka airport by 4:15! I bought the ticket right then. There was great hope in my heart—if this one leaves on time, there’s nothing more to worry about. I went to the airport restroom and quickly put on my tie. I adjusted my shirt once more. Looking in the mirror, I fixed my hair with my hand. The clock hand crossed 4 after passing 3:45. The plane was delayed due to fog. We all boarded the plane at 4:15. It was my first time on a plane. I kept thinking, when will it take off, when will it take off! Every second felt like an hour! The tension was making it hard to breathe, yet the plane wouldn’t take off. I thought, oh! If only I could spend all my strength to make this plane soar into the sky! I pressed my handkerchief over my eyes to hide my tears. Finally, the plane took off. It was 4:37 on the clock. I was thinking, oh!

The plane could have taken off directly without taxiing! At least a couple of minutes would have been saved! The plane landed on Dhaka’s runway at 5:13.

I burst out of the domestic terminal running with all my might, and gasping for breath, I saw a motorcycle come to a stop right in front of me. “You’re Sushanta, right? Get on the back!” I extended my hand to shake hands with the young man in the black helmet. He didn’t raise his black-gloved right fist for a handshake. “Time’s wasting, brother! Please get on! Quick!” I didn’t argue further. “You’re not used to riding bikes, are you?” “Yes. How did you know?” “Brother, I’ve been riding bikes for the past 18-20 years. I can tell.” “I see.” “Lean forward and press your chest firmly against my back! You can even wrap your arms around me, otherwise you’ll get thrown off. For sure! I’m going to ride fast.” The way that bike tore out of the airport—I don’t have the courage to even think about it today. Under normal circumstances, I might have screamed in fear and told him to stop, or I really would have been thrown off. But at that moment I knew that being afraid was important, but far more important was reaching IBA alive. I don’t know if the wheels of that 150cc bike actually touched the ground that day, but for the second time in my life I understood this truth: you cannot frighten someone who stakes their life to touch their dreams. I had only seen bikes racing so recklessly on the roads in movies. The bike was literally cutting through the whooshing sound of wind, as if flying through the air! “Say brother, are you somebody really important?” “What do you mean?” “Well, Madam told me that one of her very important friends had to be delivered from the airport to IBA within half an hour, no matter what. That was her order! Who are you, brother? Hahahaha………” “I’m Madam’s Facebook friend.” “What are you saying, man? How’s that possible! I was thinking even more… you mean you’ve never even met her?” “No, brother. Why?” (There’s a railway crossing ahead. The barrier is coming down.) “Brother, duck your head a little.” Saying this, he quickly rode the bike under the barrier without obeying the signal. Many people behind us were shouting for us to stop. “Brother, just don’t be afraid. Nothing will happen. You can close your eyes if you want.” Right at that moment, while quickly emerging from between two trucks standing side by side, he said, “Sit a bit smaller, brother!” A little further ahead—massive traffic jam at a signal! Romel bhai lifted the bike onto the sidewalk. “Brother, please give way a little, give way a little,” he kept saying as he raced forward. He had to do this several times. Sometimes when riding on the central divider in the middle of the road, traffic police would catch us, and he’d say in a tearful voice, “Sir, my aunt is fighting for her life in the medical college. I’m going to donate blood. O-negative blood—we can’t find any. If I don’t reach on time, we won’t be able to save my aunt, sir!” He’d manage the police with this story and then race off at the same speed again! Whenever there was a traffic jam on the road, he’d immediately change to another road. That day I learned that when obstacles appear on the road, it doesn’t mean there is no road. Rather, it means you have to take a different road! Right now!! I had only seen such daredevil biking in Hollywood action movies. Looking at my hair in the bike’s mirror, it seemed as if it had stood up straight after an electric shock! My face was covered with dust from the city. In the fierce wind, my tie was flying behind me in the air. I don’t know if anyone has ever seen a bike race so recklessly through Dhaka’s roads during rush hour. But for some reason, I truly wasn’t afraid at all. I kept thinking over and over, “How quickly can one reach IBA!” Romel bhai had finished his honors and master’s from Dhaka College before joining the bank. I had asked him, “What’s your designation at the bank?” He had joked, “Not much, just 14 more promotions and I’ll be able to sit in Zohra Madam’s chair. Hahaha…….”

When I arrived in front of IBA, my watch showed 5:52. As I got down, I saw my younger brother Pappu and his friend Arefin standing there. At that time, I had my gift shop ‘Dobhana.’ Pappu and Arefin were my working partners. They often came to Dhaka from Chawk Bazaar in Old Dhaka to buy wholesale goods for the shop. I had withdrawn myself from the shop to focus on my BCS exam preparation. They ran everything. They were already in Dhaka on shop business. I had told them to go to the IBA MBA program office and keep me updated by phone about the viva board situation. Through repeated conversations with them, I was checking whether the interview board was still there, asking them to go to the program office and explain that I couldn’t arrive on time due to flight delays, terrible traffic jams, and so on. As soon as I got down, they informed me, “Bhaiya, the board left 4-5 minutes ago. Now only the Executive MBA viva remains.” After introducing them to Romel bhai, I rushed up to the MBA program office on the second floor. As soon as they saw me, everyone there stopped their work and looked at me. I saw Rahi Sir busy with something; he didn’t respond to my greeting. “Sir, I’m very late. Despite trying hard, I couldn’t arrive on time. I…” Without giving me a chance to say anything more, he shouted, “You Idiot! Get out!” “Sir, I…” “I said, Get out! Out! Out!! I knew very well that you wouldn’t be able to come on time. Is it possible to take one exam in Chittagong and then come to Dhaka for another exam? That easy? You’ve just wasted my time! I had told everyone that a boy from Chittagong would come at 5:15, and we needed to take his viva. Did you think I am a joker?” “Sir, I came here with great difficulty. The flight was delayed, there was heavy traffic on the road. I really…” “It’s none of my business! Get out! Go back where you came from.” “Sir, I had many dreams of studying at IBA.” “Everyone on the street has such dreams. I gave you a chance but you missed it. That’s all! Get out of here.” “Sir, please have some mercy…” (I felt like falling at his feet and crying…) Right beside him sat a gentle-looking gentleman much younger than the sir. He said, “Sir, I’ve heard about him. His younger brother kept coming to our program office. They had been standing in front of the office for hours. His flight was indeed delayed. And there’s heavy traffic in Dhaka today too. A friend of mine came to my room from the airport a while ago; it took him a long time to get here too. Give him a chance, Sir. He’s come so far, taking such risks with great difficulty! He apparently has another written exam tomorrow too. The poor fellow has to return to Chittagong today itself.” “Son, you junior faculty members don’t even know what you’re saying, what kind of requests you make. Why are you pleading for him? Is he your relative or something?” “No no Sir, I’m seeing him for the first time today. Just look at his face once, Sir. He’s really come here with great difficulty. Please do him a favor, Sir.” “You have no idea what you are talking about! Will the Executive MBA viva be the same as theirs? They have 3 years of job experience, while these are just children in comparison!

“This won’t be possible, brother. I am sorry!” “Sir, please help the poor fellow a bit. He’s come such a long way with so much hope!” “Son, we can’t manage anything more for you!” I stood a little distance away, head bowed. Looking at me, he called out loudly, “Hey, stupid! Why are you standing there like a donkey? Go on, go to the third floor! Go and stand there absolutely quietly. We’ll call you.” I truly couldn’t understand whether such a beautiful moment had ever come anywhere in this world before! Tears began streaming down my face. I prayed again and again from my heart for Babu sir. Rahi sir seemed like a father figure to me. I kept remembering mother’s words: “Never get angry at teachers’ scolding. When teachers scold, it means blessings.” Overwhelmed with emotion, as I was about to leave after thanking and saluting the teachers, Rahi sir called from behind, “Hey crazy boy! Comb your hair before entering the board! Wash your face at the basin! Don’t be so scared! Hahaha…” I couldn’t say anything more. I kept staring blankly at sir’s face. My cheeks were wet with tears from both eyes. Babu sir placed his hand on my shoulder and said, “Go on, go upstairs and wait. We are not that much bad people as you thought us to be. Sometimes even the IBA faculties are too good! Freshen up, give your interview properly, now there’s no tension anymore. What’s your exam tomorrow?” “Sir, Mathematical Reasoning and Mental Ability.” “How will you go?” “Sir, I have a return plane ticket.” “Good! Brother, splash some water on your eyes and face to fix your appearance. Give your viva quickly and rush to the airport! Good luck!” At that moment I felt like touching sir’s feet in salute. People get frightened by sudden intense love. For the first time, it suddenly struck me: “What if I can’t honor this love of my teachers? What if I don’t get a chance at IBA in the end?”

When we find ourselves in trouble, if our intentions are pure, a way out always emerges! I went to the washroom on the third floor and tried my best to “make myself presentable” by wetting my hair and smoothing it down. After splashing water on my face, I went and waited in front of the notice board. I was called after 10 minutes. It was nearly seven o’clock. When I entered the room, I saw many faculty members seated there. I hadn’t known that so many would be present for an interview. I thought this was perhaps how IBA interviews were conducted. I later learned that this entire panel had been assembled just for me. Apart from Babu Sir and Rahi Sir, I didn’t recognize anyone else. After getting admitted, I realized that those present that evening were IBA’s most senior and accomplished faculty members. The board included Saiful Majid Sir, Shama-e-Zahir Sir, Mamun Sir, Munir Khosru Sir, Niaz Sir, and Saif Noman Khan Sir. Most of the junior faculty had finished their interviews and gone home, while some senior faculty were in their offices conducting Executive MBA interviews. Some of them had been specially called in. I was in the interview for about 18-20 minutes. Many of the faculty members knew about my situation that day. I had heard of something called “divine possession” in life. At certain special moments, due to particular external influences or circumstances, people suddenly gain extraordinary power. In those moments, they step outside their normal state and display different behavior. They can harness the utmost potential of their inner infinite strength. In that wondrous balanced fusion of emotion and capability, the best version of themselves emerges. From the moment I entered the interview room, I had very likely become a different person, or perhaps the very best ‘me’ from within had emerged that day. By what divine signal this happened, I don’t know. No hesitation, doubt, nervousness, fear, the day’s exhaustion, or lethargy was affecting me at all. I felt incredibly composed and light as a feather. It felt as though whatever I was saying or doing was the best possible. I was experiencing the finest moment of my life right then and there. I can say with complete honesty that the style in which I spoke English that day—I have never in my entire life, even to this day, been able to speak English so flawlessly and fluently. That day the faculty members engaged in various kinds of humor during the interview. They were having great fun with me. Most likely, the faculty wanted to “shake me up” somehow. I don’t know why, by whose indication I don’t know, but I kept answering all their questions one by one with a very cool head and a smile that day. They interviewed me in English on various diverse topics, starting from describing the entire day’s events and the preceding Facebook incidents to many other subjects. (Of course, at IBA there’s absolutely no opportunity to give interviews in Bengali.) Why I wanted to pursue an MBA, why IBA if I was going to take government job exams anyway, my weaknesses, whether I’d ever been in love, how I spend my leisure time, some conversation about reading books, various economic issues of Bangladesh, some personal and family matters, my future plans, the breathless motorcycle journey from A to Z, the BCS examination system, why I went into engineering despite having no interest, why I delayed my honors degree, why I didn’t study properly, why my CGPA was so low, what I like to eat, what kind of personality I prefer in people, what I know about IBA, some current affairs, and several other questions. I was answering very quickly in correct English. The faculty praised this too. I gave a very simple, straightforward, and candid interview. I didn’t speak a single false word that day.

I didn’t need to think before speaking—whatever came to mind, I simply said, so there was no chance to fabricate lies. At the end, they asked me to sing a song. When I said, “I can’t, Sir,” Babu Sir showed me my info-form and laughed, saying, “But you’ve claimed so.” I had written Reading, Writing, Singing in the hobbies section… At that moment, it felt like I was living the best day of my life. I sang, “Aaj ei dintake…” “I see, we’re getting a singer for our cultural program!” As Saiful Majid Sir was saying this, Babu Sir interjected, “Sir, he has another exam tomorrow. He’ll probably be flying back to Chittagong tonight.” Then three or four teachers exclaimed in unison, “What! He’s going back to Chittagong right now? Well then, run along, run along! Go downstairs and see if your superman biker is there! Hahahaha…” As I was leaving with my salaam, the teachers called out, “Best of luck for your tomorrow’s exam.” I kept thinking, again and again—I’ll make it, I’ll make it! (Even after giving the BCS viva, I didn’t feel this good.)

When I stepped out of IBA, it was half past seven on the clock. I knew there was no way I could catch the 7:45 flight. I also knew that I had no idea how I would get to Chittagong that night. I didn’t even feel like thinking about it. Only the exhilarating rush of having given a good exam was coursing through me. Pappu and Arefin had been waiting for me at Madhu’s canteen. Taking them along, I went to the front of Dhaka University’s Central Library and leisurely began eating vegetable pakoras and tea. Many of my students studied in various departments at Dhaka University. Quite a few came to see me. They were asking what questions had been asked in the interview. After a day of incredible experiences, my head had become almost entirely empty. I couldn’t understand why I wasn’t feeling the slightest urgency to return to Chittagong. Pappu asked, “Brother, will you take the night bus?” I said, “Yes, that could work.” (It amuses me now to think how casually I had said ‘that could work’!) The road conditions weren’t good then either, there were always traffic jams. It didn’t even occur to me—what would happen if I couldn’t reach by 10 AM tomorrow? Ripon, a dear younger brother who lived in Chittagong and was one of my former students, said, “Brother, I have a non-AC train ticket; for Turna Nishitha, leaving tonight. It doesn’t matter if I don’t go to Chittagong today. Brother, you take it.” “Alright, fine,” I said, took the ticket, and set off toward Kamalapur Station. That night the train left nearly an hour and a half late. I didn’t even want to think about what was going to happen! I had already surrendered myself to fate long before. In my mind I kept repeating only this: whatever will be, will be. Whether I want it or not, it will happen. And whatever is happening is surely for the good; whatever will happen will surely be for the good too. Let’s see! After the day’s exhaustion, I had a very peaceful sleep. Suddenly I woke up hearing commotion around me. The train had stopped at Comilla. Apparently there was some problem with the line. We were delayed there for nearly two and a quarter hours. I couldn’t understand why I wasn’t feeling any kind of anxiety! I fell asleep again. Sleep is the world’s only faithful lover. Whenever I want it, I find it near. Never, under any circumstances, does it abandon me. There can be no purer love than the love for sleep.

When the train reached Chittagong railway station the next day, it was a quarter to ten in the morning. My exam was scheduled to start at ten. It takes only fifteen minutes to get from the station to my house. When I got home, I found my mother sitting there with everything ready in her hands—my pencil box, board, scale, pen, calculator, admit card, registration card, all of it. My parents had been terribly anxious at home. I hadn’t been able to speak to them since after half past one at night. My mobile had run out of charge. (I was using a cheap Nokia 1100 mobile set back then. Everyone called it the “national set”! It was so sturdy that many would joke, “Dude, you could crack jackfruit with that phone!” I’d tease my friends who used expensive mobiles, saying, “My phone’s model is ‘N Eleven Zero Zero’!”) As soon as my mother saw me, she said, “Dear, how are you? Will you take today’s exam?” I felt emotionally numb. It seemed as though I was lighter than a feather at that moment, floating around in some kind of trance! I smiled and said, “Ma, I’m perfectly fine. I’ll take the exam.” Saying this, I took the packed shopping bag from my mother’s hands and left the house just as I was. It was 10:05 on the clock. From our house to the exam center, it takes at least thirty minutes by CNG during office hours. When I reached the college gate, it was 10:43. That day was the mathematical reasoning and mental ability test. The first two hours were mathematical reasoning, followed by one hour of mental ability. The exam had already started forty-three minutes earlier. Naturally, the police wouldn’t let me enter. I pleaded extensively, kept trying futilely to explain what had happened, but they weren’t willing to listen to anything. But I had made up my mind—I wasn’t going to turn back, I would get inside no matter what. A small commotion started gathering there. Seeing the crowd, the magistrate came over. After hearing my entire story, he said, “You only have one hour left. Can you finish all the math problems in this time?” Without a moment’s hesitation, I said, “I can, sir!” “Alright, go ahead. Good luck!” My heart overflowed with gratitude toward him. At that moment, he seemed to me not human, but divine! I went in, looked at the questions, took the exam. I even showed three problems to the person sitting next to me. (He got a job in Audit and Accounts in the 30th batch.) I scored 98 on that day’s exam—50 in math, 48 in mental ability. After that… well, as everyone says—the rest is history!

But this much is true: had that day’s exam been something other than mathematics, I would have been in real trouble. I can handle math because the type of problems that appeared in the BCS written exam back then weren’t particularly difficult for me to solve. Such problems don’t strain the mind much, and the 30th BCS written exam featured relatively easy math. Even if I worked through each step carefully and added side notes, it shouldn’t have taken more than half an hour. It didn’t for me either. However, spending two and a half hours on the International Affairs exam the day before had been risky. Actually, no matter how incredible the whole affair might seem, everything appears to have been predetermined by the Creator or nature itself. What remains inexplicable to our limited understanding is simply a natural, ordinary occurrence for the Creator. All our failures and successes are already decided beforehand. But to reach that point, the effort—or making the right decision at the right time—that we must do ourselves. I wasn’t even supposed to pass my undergraduate degree. Yet it was my destiny to complete my undergraduate studies, become a BCS cadre, study at IBA—all of it was written in my fate. Had my destiny been bound elsewhere, I would have gone there instead. I had enrolled in another master’s program under Dhaka University—MDS. After continuing that course for three months, I left it of my own accord. They had said I would need to officially hide the fact that I was simultaneously pursuing another master’s at IBA. I refused to lie. I harbor no regret about this, though. I’ve accepted that pursuing that particular master’s degree simply wasn’t written in my destiny. This is the truth, this is reality. I had gained admission to Dhaka University’s Evening MBA program in Finance, ranking sixth on the merit list, but never had to attend classes there. I received my IBA admission test results before that. I did complete my master’s in Finance from Dhaka University, but the Evening MBA program wasn’t destined for me, so I didn’t pursue my master’s degree from there.

Stepping into two boats in the middle of a river ensures certain death. Logic dictates this. But I placed my feet in two boats, taking the maximum risk—I had no other choice—yet both boats moved forward in parallel at the same speed at the same time, so I didn’t slip between them and lose my life. What explanation could there be for this? Life doesn’t follow logic; life follows the Creator’s signals. Life doesn’t always operate according to explanations. Sometimes life moves on faith. So there’s nothing to say about anyone’s personal philosophy and the life they live according to their beliefs, as long as that life doesn’t interfere with someone else’s way of living. Somewhere, no explicable form of life can be seen, and life is just like this!

Through sheer mental strength alone, I had believed that some miracle would surely occur. It did happen, because in Providence’s master plan, that’s what was meant to happen. Everything in between was the Creator’s games or plans to test my patience and concentration. You will never be given a gift you don’t deserve. You will be tested, and if you fail to pass that test, you will deprive yourself of the Creator’s grace through your own fault. I’m sharing with you the Facebook status I posted after the IBA admission test results came out, along with a couple of my own comments on it:

Friends, I’ve been finally selected for admission into the MBA Program of IBA, Dhaka University. …… feeling happy. ……. HATS OFF to Sharmeen didi, Ira madam & Romel bhai!!

# My dear friends….. Your gorgeous presence on my wall makes me think twice about the POWER of friendship & the MAGIC of love. YES……… They matter!! I just want to be with you forever. Please never say GOODBYE…. It hurts!! Your kindness and care mean a lot to me. You’ve always given me much more than I really deserve. Please accept my sincere GRATITUDE.

Happy Social Networking!!

Long live Facebook!!

My best wishes for our Friendship!!

……… Love you all ……

# (To one of my close friends) Dost, not reaching the Interview Session on 17 January at 5:30 pm was what I thought to be….. reaching there in time was what was written in my DESTINY….. And, I ended up calling it a MIRACLE, something I never believed in before…… Just have a look at the schedule of 17 January……

International Affairs Exam (BCS written exam)…. 10:00 am — 1:00 pm

The departure time of the GMG Airlines: 3:20 pm, there was a delay of about 1 hour due to fog and I availed another delayed flight of Bangladesh Biman at 4:37 pm.

The plane landed on Dhaka Airport at 5:13 pm and then I started my fight against time to meet the deadline by bike with Romel bhai!! Who managed those three saviours (Sharmeen didi, Ira madam & Romel bhai) for me? I don’t know. You better ask the Heaven! I saw such a breath-taking motor-bike driving only in English movies. Before that day, I had never thought I would experience it!!

Life is sometimes stranger than fiction . . . . Who can tell it better than I?

# (To one of my senior high-profile Indian friends) Thank you Sir for your words of felicitation. IBA of Dhaka University is considered as the most prestigious institute for doing MBA in Bangladesh. As per the rules of that Business School, the Major/Field of Specialization is allowed to be chosen at the final semester judging the academic records & intention of a candidate. I don’t have much idea about what to choose and why to choose. Please share some ideas on it as you’ve huge practical knowledge (so far as I know) about the present corporate trend.

You’ve nicely stated the trend of our careerist B-school graduates. No one really cares about their own aptitude, rather, tries to be what market wants them to be. Personally, I always like the decision-making and mainstream operational sections of giant companies. And, probably I’ll go for finance as my major when I’ve to choose it in my final semester. Yes, my semester results must be well enough to work on my advantage. That’ll be a story of one and a half years later. Till then, I’ll have to undergo the generalized curriculum as my B-school formulates. The recent economic recession worries our friends studying at the US universities. And, almost all of them suggest me not to plan of staying there. But at the same time, they suggest me completing my PhD in the US if I want to and grab that opportunity. Let’s wait and see. . . . . Are you in India now? Hope you’re quite OK along with your busy schedule. Please, sometimes give me your valuable suggestions when you’ve time and you’re here on Facebook. . . . . Thank you once again for your helpful advice. Take care.

In explaining the final part of the status shared above, I had written these words:

Let me share the Story behind the Story and elucidate the last part of my status. It would have been quite impossible for me to reach Dhaka University from Dhaka International Airport within just 50 minutes (!!) to attend the interview session of IBA in time on Jan 17, but for the cordial help of Sharmeen didi (Sharmeen Muiz) & Ira madam (Johora Bebe Ira). They’re the persons who made that miracle happen!! And, Romel bhai (Monirul Alam Romel) is the “Man with the Bike” who dared fight against time to meet the deadline!! ……. I feel honoured to express my heartfelt gratitude to these three saviours. …….. Miracles Happen When You Believe!!

I conclude this piece with a beautifully strange comment Sharmeen didi made on that status: “My prayers, good wishes, and prayers remain with you. Dear brother of mine, may you grow to great heights. And may the successful reflection of our efforts (Ira’s and mine) shine through in everything you do. I was there, I am here, I will be there. …….. Heaps of hugs and love.”

What sustains a human being? We live on love, on prayers, on good wishes. These are what keep me alive—quite well alive, in fact. My gratitude!

P.S. Let me offer you some practical wisdom. Those who think they know too much, who consider themselves supremely intelligent, who speak in grand terms without any real qualifications or notable position, who try to diminish others even through outright lies, who pontificate without knowledge, who speak to you in such a manner that you begin to doubt your own confidence—I would advise you to absolutely, absolutely, and absolutely avoid such people. They themselves cannot go very far in life, nor will they allow you to go very far either.

(Written 2-3 years ago)

I thought, why should I surrender before I’ve even lost? I’ll see this through to the end. At home, my parents were also saying, “Give up one of them.” My heart was telling me, “I won’t give up, not for anything!” Let me gamble with life this once and see what happens! You have to listen to your heart. I called the MBA Program Office. Zakir bhai was in charge there. He said, “IBA’s schedule doesn’t change for anyone. You change your schedule.” I said, “That’s not possible. You have several slots. BCS has only one.” Even after that he said, “It’s not possible in any way. We’re sorry!” Saying this, he hung up the phone, and my stubbornness only grew stronger. I put aside studying for the next day’s exam. After some inquiries, I learned that Rahi Sir was the Program Chairman for IBA’s MBA at the time. Only he could change my interview slot if he wanted to. Rahi Sir is an incredibly fierce person. IBA’s Marketing Department is the best in Bangladesh. Rahi Sir is the best faculty in that department. I got his number. The person I got the number from asked, “Are you really going to call Rahi Sir?” “Yes. Why?” “We students never dare to call Sir. And you’re going to call him for this?” “I will. I have to. My back is against the wall.” “God bless you, man! You better think twice.” I said, “Sometimes life doesn’t give you the opportunity to think twice. It’s the first and the only chance! I must grab it before it’s too late! I will call him. I’ll make my attempt—if it works, it works; if not, so be it. If I don’t try, it definitely won’t work. Thank you, bhai!” Right after finishing that conversation, without any second thoughts, I called Rahi Sir. A man with an extremely serious voice. It’s frightening just to speak with him. But I have nothing left to lose. I only know this: I passed IBA’s written exam and IBA has to conduct my interview. I had truly become reckless. I blurted out my entire problem in one breath. Rahi Sir said, “You silly kid! You’ve dared to call Rahi Sir for this! Did you think I am your friend? It’s not my business whether you can attend the viva board or not. You have only 2 choices: Leave IBA, or, Leave BCS.” To my infinite amazement, I heard myself saying, “Sir, I have called you to hear about the third choice. If you don’t have that, please make it for me. I know I’ll be at IBA.” Sir said very loudly over the phone, “You are a stupid little boy. You just know nothing about the things here! Don’t waste my time. I am busy!” “Sir, please give me a chance. I am………” I couldn’t make him hear any more—he hung up before that. I couldn’t understand what had happened, only felt an even stronger desire to believe that I would definitely study at IBA. BCS seemed to fade for a moment. Whatever happens in tomorrow’s exam will happen. Right now I need to sort out the IBA situation first. I called the program office again.

I asked, “When can I actually meet Rahi sir?” “What do you mean?” “Sir told me to come see him.” “Ask sir himself when you can actually meet him.” (I mustered the courage to lie….) “Sir said to call the program office and find out.” “He told you to ask us? Really! Alright, stay on the line, let me check sir’s class schedule.” Zakir bhai informed me that if I came next Friday evening, I could meet sir. Saying “thank you very much,” I hung up the phone and immediately left home to buy a bus ticket. From near Gariullah Shah’s shrine in Chittagong, I bought a ticket on Unique’s non-AC bus to Dhaka for Thursday night. The next day, under tremendous mental pressure, I took my Bangladesh Studies Paper 1 exam. Even in the exam hall, my mind kept racing: “Will Rahi sir keep his word?” In my answer sheet, I mistakenly wrote the word “Rahi” several times, though I crossed it out later.

I arrived at IBA before afternoon on Friday. I stood waiting in front of the MBA Program Office. Zakir bhai wasn’t there at the time—he came in the evening, two hours later. I went up and introduced myself. “Oh, I see, you’ve come from Chittagong. Rahi sir mentioned he would speak with you about changing your interview schedule? Really??” “Yes, he told me to come see him!” We were talking when Rahi sir arrived shortly after. He went straight through the program office into his room. A dignified man of serious disposition. His office was right next to the program office. Zakir bhai said, “Please sit on the sofa. Let me ask sir if he’s free right now.” When he told sir, “Someone named Sushanta Pal has come from Chittagong to see you—you had asked him to come,” sir immediately shouted quite loudly, “I didn’t ask anyone to come see me! Tell him to leave. Disgusting!” Zakir bhai told me, “Sir won’t see you. You should go.” “I’ll leave, but only after meeting with sir. Brother, I haven’t come here to turn back. I must see him.” Almost forcefully, I entered sir’s room without permission. After I said very politely, “Assalamu alaikum, sir,” he returned the greeting and said, “What do you want?” There were several other students in the room who had come to sir for various matters. “Sir, I called you the day before yesterday evening.” “Is it my duty to remember your call? Get out!” I said nothing and stood there with my head bowed. The words “Get out!” didn’t register in my mind. At that moment, I only knew that I would speak with Rahi sir about changing the schedule, and sir would surely agree to do so. After standing like this for nearly half an hour, sir said, “Why are you standing here like a statue?” I fearfully placed an application about changing the time slot on sir’s desk and began to say, “Sir, the day before yesterday I spoke with you on the phone…” “Speak in the language I am using now.” “Sir, my interview has been scheduled for next Monday at 10 in the morning. I am appearing for the 30th BCS written exam. I have an exam at the same time. So, I request you to shift my schedule to another convenient time slot.” “Sorry, we cannot.” “Please Sir! Otherwise, my dream to be here will be shattered.” “Let it be. Just go for BCS. You will do better being a civil servant.” “But Sir, it’s uncertain.” “Is being here certain for you?” “No Sir, that’s why I cannot leave any of these 2 opportunities. Please Sir, give me a chance. Do me a favour. I will be ever grateful, Sir.” “What time is your exam?” “10 o’clock, sir.” “How long?” “Three hours, sir.” “Okay fine, come straight here after your exam. Can you make it by 1:30?” I realized sir had forgotten that I’d come from Chittagong. “Sir, I’m taking the exam from Chittagong.” “Stupid! We cannot change our schedule for you! Are you Mr President?” “No Sir, I just want to be your student! I will do anything you tell me to do. Please give me a chance, Sir!” “Look, brother, you won’t be able to finish your exam at 1 o’clock and come from Chittagong to take the interview anyway.

You won’t make it even if you leave at 10 PM. The roads are in terrible condition, there’s heavy traffic.” “Sir, I can come in the evening.” “How? By plane?” “Yes, sir. Please give me a chance, sir.” “Alright. Don’t you have an exam the next day?” “I do, sir. I can manage. I’ll buy a return ticket.” “What time can you arrive?” “Whatever you say, sir.” “Your exam will end at 1 PM. Hmm… okay, can you make it to the 3 o’clock board?” “Yes sir, I can be there at 3.” “Do you know if there are flights at that time?” “I don’t know, sir. I’ll find out.” “I think there’s a flight around 3.” “What time can you arrive?” “4 o’clock, sir?” “Foolish boy! Your brain isn’t working. How can you take a 3 o’clock flight from Chittagong and get from the airport to IBA by 4? You have no idea about Dhaka city. Okay, you come by 5:15 sharp. You will be last person in that board. If you come after that, nothing can be done. The evening board is for Executive MBA. It won’t be possible to hold your viva there. Okay?” “Thank you, sir.” “Youngman, you have decided to play with your life! Best of luck!” “Please pray for me, sir. I can do this!” Tears came to my eyes. I realized that though this man appeared stern on the outside, he was very gentle within. I offered many prayers for the sir and left IBA. I went to Aziz and bought some books. Then I went to Fakirapul and took the 10 PM non-AC bus from Unique, reaching Chittagong in the morning.

I’m sharing the application with you:

15 January 2011

The Program Director, MBA Program

Institute of Business Administration

University of Dhaka

Dhaka

Subject: Prayer for changing the time slot of the interview schedule of the MBA Program Admission

Sir,

This letter expresses my earnest request to change my interview schedule of the MBA Program Admission 2010-2011. I am a candidate for Full-Time Course, my admit number is 2745 and I am on Interview Board 6 scheduled to be conducted at the 10:00 am to 1:00 pm time slot on January 17, 2011. I am appearing at the 30th BCS written examination and my Examination Centre is at Chittagong. I have an examination on January 17, 2011, coincided with the same time slot of the interview and so it is not possible for me to come from Chittagong and attend the interview at 10:00 am.

I will be highly obliged if you kindly permit me to attend the interview at the 6:00 pm to 8:30 pm time slot scheduled for Evening Board 3 and Evening Board 4 on January 17, 2011.

Yours faithfully

Sushanta Paul

I had never been on a plane before. I thought that wherever you go, you need a passport to fly. My elder brother called a friend who works with passport services and asked what documents are needed for an emergency passport to Dhaka. He burst out laughing! He said, “Buddy, what do you need a passport for? A plane and a bus are the same thing. One flies in the sky, the other runs on the road. That’s all there is to it! Just go buy a ticket. That’s it! Which one is good? You can go with GMG. That’s pretty good.” I didn’t know that you don’t have to rush to the airport to buy a plane ticket. I had no idea how much tickets cost. Getting off the bus in the morning, I went straight to a Dutch-Bangla Bank booth and withdrew ten thousand taka. Then I jumped into a CNG and rushed to the airport. I bought a ticket from the GMG Airlines counter for the 3:20 flight on Monday, the 17th. That was the first Chittagong-Dhaka flight of the afternoon. I booked a return ticket for the same day on the 7:45 evening flight. I felt like I could see it right before my eyes—me attending classes at IBA! Such a strange vision! I returned home with a victorious smile, almost as if I had already gotten into IBA! At night, I tried to prepare from various guides and the internet about what they might ask in the IBA interview. I studied for about 4-5 hours. At the same time, I posted a status on Facebook: How much time does it take to reach Dhaka University from Dhaka International Airport? Is it possible to reach in 40 minutes? Friends, any suggestion, please? I was truly a very simple person back then. I saw the world in very simple terms. Since I hadn’t visited Dhaka much, I didn’t know that in 2011 it wasn’t possible to get from the airport to Shahbag in 40 minutes. Everyone was saying it would take a minimum of two hours to get from the airport to the university campus in the afternoon. All sorts of bizarre comments came in reply to my status. Many started making fun of me. I’ll share some of my friends’ suggestions: “It’s possible if you run.” “It would be great if you jogged to the university. You’d get your evening exercise too!” “You shouldn’t have bought that plane ticket! With that money, if you had thrown us a party, we all would have prayed together and your BCS would have worked out! Hahahaha…..” “Young man! You’re young, just run as soon as you get off the plane! You’ll see, you’ll reach before time!” “Listen, such-and-such bus runs on such-and-such route. Hanging and sleeping, you’ll reach IBA just fine!” I got many such absurd comments. I knew absolutely nothing about Dhaka then. When you’re in trouble, doesn’t everyone have to give you a kick? It began to feel like that’s just how life is! People can’t extend a hand to pull you up, but they can certainly extend a foot to kick you down! Without getting the least bit discouraged by anyone’s words, I kept waiting to see if someone would give some good advice. I didn’t react to anyone’s reply that day. How helplessly calm a person becomes when in trouble. All I knew was this: “I’m giving my IBA interview on the 17th.” One person wrote, “You can go by bike. There’s no faster way to reach the university campus.” Some people even supported that idea. A few mentioned taxi cabs. Support was strongest for the bike option. Up until then, I had ridden a bike maybe 2-3 times in my entire life, counting generously. I didn’t really know anyone in Dhaka who had a bike, or if I did know someone, my mind wasn’t working at all then. Sometimes I think now, alas!

I couldn’t even afford to manage a bike at that time. I wrote, “My flight is scheduled to land at Dhaka Airport at 4.10 pm on 17 January. I must reach Dhaka University at or before 5.15 pm. I’ve an interview at IBA at that time. . . . Can’t I do it? Is it not possible? I need to do it at any cost. As I don’t know about the routes of Dhaka City, I’m asking for your help. Dhaka City is an unknown city to me. Can a taxi cab help me reach there in 1 hour? I can’t be late, otherwise I’ll miss the interview schedule. I’ve managed that schedule today through an application. . . Can a bike be a better solution? Or, something else? I’m in great trouble. . . .” After posting this, the mocking and laughter began all over again. I replied to the distinguished gentleman (one of Bangladesh’s most successful businessmen) who had advised me to jog there: “Thank you Sir for you ‘jogging’ suggestion. I was also seriously thinking of this option. Yes, I’ll surely manage to reach in time by vehicles, on foot, again by vehicles, again on foot . . . . And, I’ll go. I’ll be there in time by any means.” Someone said, “Change the schedule once more.” I wrote, “The schedule can’t be changed! Hopefully, there will happen some miracle and I’ll manage to avail the schedule in time.” A younger brother wrote, “Brother, you should go by taxi-cab. But you could try the bus once. Dhaka buses run quite well!” I replied, “Brother, I’m not surely making any attempt of getting on a bus! That’ll be horrible, you know. I was just seeking for a suggestion as I don’t know about the route. Thanks for the suggestion. I think a CNG powered taxi can help me in this regard. A taxi-cab is prone to getting stuck up in the congestion forever. A bike could be a better solution. But, I can’t manage it.”

Mrs. Zohra, whose name was Ira—an extremely distinguished lady—commented, “You need a bike?” “That would be wonderful.” “Alright, let me see what I can do.” She was the Deputy Managing Director of ONE Bank. After completing her studies in Chemistry from Chittagong University, she had done her MBA from IBA. She worked in the corporate sector, but there were very few people who didn’t know her. I have a sister. Her name is Sharmin Muiz Khan. At that time, she was one of those rare souls who loved someone as insignificant as me far more than necessary, showered me with affection for no particular reason. She was almost my mother’s age, but I addressed her as ‘tumi’ and she called me ‘tui’. She had studied English Literature at Dhaka University. She particularly loved my writing. She was a business magnate and had connections with many prominent people. I have rarely seen a lady as distinguished, refined, elegant, and utterly graceful as her. She commented, “Bappi, someone needs to grab you and give you a good thrashing. Are you enjoying confusing everyone by calling them all the time? Please stop wasting your time browsing Facebook and concentrate on tomorrow’s exam. Otherwise, you’re calling for another disaster. There is a saying: ‘Que sera, sera’ meaning: Whatever will be, will be. So, pray and try your best. I have given this opinion after a lot of serious thoughts. Please follow it. You will leave here right now. I don’t want to see you making even one more comment! MIRACLES HAPPEN IF YOU BELIEVE IN YOURSELF!” I replied, “Didi, things are that they’re. Things will be that they will be. And, between this two there lie some miracles that we’re never aware of. And, miracles are often stranger than facts. Facts are because they’re. Miracles are because we or someone else wants them to be. That’s the truth!” She called Mrs. Zohra. She said, “Look Ira, my brother has gotten into a bit of trouble. The poor thing is a simple soul, we should do something for him. Can’t you arrange a bike for him?” A little while later, I saw a message from Mrs. Zohra in my inbox: “Please give me your contact number. Regards” I gave it immediately. The call came within seconds. After introducing herself, she said, “You need a bike Monday at 4 PM, right?” “That would be wonderful.” “OK, a bike will be there for you at 4. My colleague Romel will pick you. Alright?” “I am truly, truly grateful. Thank you so very much!” “Let’s get the work done first, then you can thank me. I’m texting you Romel’s number. Take care.” She hung up immediately. I wrote to her: “Life is stranger than fiction, I repeat. From myself, I’ve got much less than I truly deserve. From others, I’ve got much more than I truly deserve. Is it the thing that they call miracle? I don’t know and never try to know. I let miracles happen and thankfully they always happen . . . . . . . Thank you for your generous approach. This really means a lot to me.” I wrote my piece. I don’t know if she ever read it or had the time to read it. Noble souls don’t wait for thanks. Besides, she was truly, truly busy.

He was the head of the credit section at One Bank. He had no reason to know a nobody like me, yet he knew me through my writing. Otherwise, I would never have had the privilege of speaking with him directly. And the fact that Sharmin didi had spoken to him about me—that was a big deal too. The next day was the Bangladesh Affairs Paper 2 exam. I went to sleep without studying any of it. The day after, straight from the exam hall, I went to the Westex showroom at Probortak intersection. My life’s first interview. I was incredibly excited! I had decided I’d go to the interview board wearing everything brand new. I bought a formal white shirt, black pants, black tie, black belt, black socks, white undershirt, and brown shoes. Later, from Gallery Apex I bought formal Oxford shoes, and from Time Zone a Titan wristwatch, then returned home in the evening. Seeing my antics, Ma was laughing. “Ma, why are you laughing?” “Just because, dear.” The funny thing was, Ma went with me to the exam hall every single day. She always kept me close, just like a child. Ma said, “Tomorrow I’m going to the airport with you.” And she did go—despite my protests.

Monday, the 17th. International Affairs exam. I couldn’t stay in the exam hall for the entire time due to nerves. I don’t have a car, what if the CNG takes too long to reach the airport! What if I miss the flight! The flight was at 3:20. And it takes at least 2 hours to reach the airport from Omar Gani MES College by 1 PM. Our written exam had been during winter. In the bitter cold, my fingers would freeze. Still, I kept rubbing my palms together to warm them, blowing hot breath into the hollow of my cupped hands, and wrote with all my strength. Instead of 1 o’clock, I finished the exam at 12:30, submitted my paper, and rushed out. When I emerged from the hall and reached the gate, everyone thought I must have been expelled! The intense stress was clearly written all over my face. Many showed me sympathy, told me not to worry, advised me to do better in the next BCS. I didn’t have time to respond. What could I say anyway—at that moment, life itself was one giant question mark for me! I don’t know what strength possessed my mother. She ran almost twice as fast as me, covering the distance from the college campus to the road. We got into a CNG without bargaining, paying nearly one and a half times the normal fare. I told the driver, “However you manage it, get us to the airport within two hours. If necessary, I’ll pay you extra.” It was 12:50 on the clock. The CNG started speeding. Mother opened the tiffin box and fed me khichuri, meat, and fried egg. One thought kept spinning in my head: “Will I catch the plane? If we get stuck in traffic, it’s all over!” I took off my sweater. I had left home that morning wearing my viva outfit, everything except the tie. After escaping two minor traffic jams, when we reached the airport, it was 5 minutes to 3. As soon as I got down, I touched my mother’s and aunt’s feet in respect (a distant aunt had come with us since mother couldn’t return home from the airport alone) and ran to the counter. There I learned that the flight was delayed by an hour due to dense fog. I thought, if the plane leaves at that time, there’s no way I can reach IBA by 5:15. I informed the counter staff about this. They said there was nothing they could do; they were very sorry. I inquired and learned that no other flights were departing at that time either. At that moment, I felt utterly helpless, just wanting to cry. I felt like I had no one, no one at all! I kept going from counter to counter. I found out there was a Bangladesh Biman flight departing at 3:45. There was no other flight before that. It was a bigger plane, taking 30 minutes to reach, whereas other planes take at least 40 minutes. Meaning, I would reach Dhaka airport by 4:15! I bought the ticket right then. There was great hope in my heart—if this one leaves on time, there’s nothing more to worry about. I went to the airport restroom and quickly put on my tie. I adjusted my shirt once more. Looking in the mirror, I fixed my hair with my hand. The clock hand crossed 4 after passing 3:45. The plane was delayed due to fog. We all boarded the plane at 4:15. It was my first time on a plane. I kept thinking, when will it take off, when will it take off! Every second felt like an hour! The tension was making it hard to breathe, yet the plane wouldn’t take off. I thought, oh! If only I could spend all my strength to make this plane soar into the sky! I pressed my handkerchief over my eyes to hide my tears. Finally, the plane took off. It was 4:37 on the clock. I was thinking, oh!

The plane could have taken off directly without taxiing! At least a couple of minutes would have been saved! The plane landed on Dhaka’s runway at 5:13.

I burst out of the domestic terminal running with all my might, and gasping for breath, I saw a motorcycle come to a stop right in front of me. “You’re Sushanta, right? Get on the back!” I extended my hand to shake hands with the young man in the black helmet. He didn’t raise his black-gloved right fist for a handshake. “Time’s wasting, brother! Please get on! Quick!” I didn’t argue further. “You’re not used to riding bikes, are you?” “Yes. How did you know?” “Brother, I’ve been riding bikes for the past 18-20 years. I can tell.” “I see.” “Lean forward and press your chest firmly against my back! You can even wrap your arms around me, otherwise you’ll get thrown off. For sure! I’m going to ride fast.” The way that bike tore out of the airport—I don’t have the courage to even think about it today. Under normal circumstances, I might have screamed in fear and told him to stop, or I really would have been thrown off. But at that moment I knew that being afraid was important, but far more important was reaching IBA alive. I don’t know if the wheels of that 150cc bike actually touched the ground that day, but for the second time in my life I understood this truth: you cannot frighten someone who stakes their life to touch their dreams. I had only seen bikes racing so recklessly on the roads in movies. The bike was literally cutting through the whooshing sound of wind, as if flying through the air! “Say brother, are you somebody really important?” “What do you mean?” “Well, Madam told me that one of her very important friends had to be delivered from the airport to IBA within half an hour, no matter what. That was her order! Who are you, brother? Hahahaha………” “I’m Madam’s Facebook friend.” “What are you saying, man? How’s that possible! I was thinking even more… you mean you’ve never even met her?” “No, brother. Why?” (There’s a railway crossing ahead. The barrier is coming down.) “Brother, duck your head a little.” Saying this, he quickly rode the bike under the barrier without obeying the signal. Many people behind us were shouting for us to stop. “Brother, just don’t be afraid. Nothing will happen. You can close your eyes if you want.” Right at that moment, while quickly emerging from between two trucks standing side by side, he said, “Sit a bit smaller, brother!” A little further ahead—massive traffic jam at a signal! Romel bhai lifted the bike onto the sidewalk. “Brother, please give way a little, give way a little,” he kept saying as he raced forward. He had to do this several times. Sometimes when riding on the central divider in the middle of the road, traffic police would catch us, and he’d say in a tearful voice, “Sir, my aunt is fighting for her life in the medical college. I’m going to donate blood. O-negative blood—we can’t find any. If I don’t reach on time, we won’t be able to save my aunt, sir!” He’d manage the police with this story and then race off at the same speed again! Whenever there was a traffic jam on the road, he’d immediately change to another road. That day I learned that when obstacles appear on the road, it doesn’t mean there is no road. Rather, it means you have to take a different road! Right now!! I had only seen such daredevil biking in Hollywood action movies. Looking at my hair in the bike’s mirror, it seemed as if it had stood up straight after an electric shock! My face was covered with dust from the city. In the fierce wind, my tie was flying behind me in the air. I don’t know if anyone has ever seen a bike race so recklessly through Dhaka’s roads during rush hour. But for some reason, I truly wasn’t afraid at all. I kept thinking over and over, “How quickly can one reach IBA!” Romel bhai had finished his honors and master’s from Dhaka College before joining the bank. I had asked him, “What’s your designation at the bank?” He had joked, “Not much, just 14 more promotions and I’ll be able to sit in Zohra Madam’s chair. Hahaha…….”

When I arrived in front of IBA, my watch showed 5:52. As I got down, I saw my younger brother Pappu and his friend Arefin standing there. At that time, I had my gift shop ‘Dobhana.’ Pappu and Arefin were my working partners. They often came to Dhaka from Chawk Bazaar in Old Dhaka to buy wholesale goods for the shop. I had withdrawn myself from the shop to focus on my BCS exam preparation. They ran everything. They were already in Dhaka on shop business. I had told them to go to the IBA MBA program office and keep me updated by phone about the viva board situation. Through repeated conversations with them, I was checking whether the interview board was still there, asking them to go to the program office and explain that I couldn’t arrive on time due to flight delays, terrible traffic jams, and so on. As soon as I got down, they informed me, “Bhaiya, the board left 4-5 minutes ago. Now only the Executive MBA viva remains.” After introducing them to Romel bhai, I rushed up to the MBA program office on the second floor. As soon as they saw me, everyone there stopped their work and looked at me. I saw Rahi Sir busy with something; he didn’t respond to my greeting. “Sir, I’m very late. Despite trying hard, I couldn’t arrive on time. I…” Without giving me a chance to say anything more, he shouted, “You Idiot! Get out!” “Sir, I…” “I said, Get out! Out! Out!! I knew very well that you wouldn’t be able to come on time. Is it possible to take one exam in Chittagong and then come to Dhaka for another exam? That easy? You’ve just wasted my time! I had told everyone that a boy from Chittagong would come at 5:15, and we needed to take his viva. Did you think I am a joker?” “Sir, I came here with great difficulty. The flight was delayed, there was heavy traffic on the road. I really…” “It’s none of my business! Get out! Go back where you came from.” “Sir, I had many dreams of studying at IBA.” “Everyone on the street has such dreams. I gave you a chance but you missed it. That’s all! Get out of here.” “Sir, please have some mercy…” (I felt like falling at his feet and crying…) Right beside him sat a gentle-looking gentleman much younger than the sir. He said, “Sir, I’ve heard about him. His younger brother kept coming to our program office. They had been standing in front of the office for hours. His flight was indeed delayed. And there’s heavy traffic in Dhaka today too. A friend of mine came to my room from the airport a while ago; it took him a long time to get here too. Give him a chance, Sir. He’s come so far, taking such risks with great difficulty! He apparently has another written exam tomorrow too. The poor fellow has to return to Chittagong today itself.” “Son, you junior faculty members don’t even know what you’re saying, what kind of requests you make. Why are you pleading for him? Is he your relative or something?” “No no Sir, I’m seeing him for the first time today. Just look at his face once, Sir. He’s really come here with great difficulty. Please do him a favor, Sir.” “You have no idea what you are talking about! Will the Executive MBA viva be the same as theirs? They have 3 years of job experience, while these are just children in comparison!

“This won’t be possible, brother. I am sorry!” “Sir, please help the poor fellow a bit. He’s come such a long way with so much hope!” “Son, we can’t manage anything more for you!” I stood a little distance away, head bowed. Looking at me, he called out loudly, “Hey, stupid! Why are you standing there like a donkey? Go on, go to the third floor! Go and stand there absolutely quietly. We’ll call you.” I truly couldn’t understand whether such a beautiful moment had ever come anywhere in this world before! Tears began streaming down my face. I prayed again and again from my heart for Babu sir. Rahi sir seemed like a father figure to me. I kept remembering mother’s words: “Never get angry at teachers’ scolding. When teachers scold, it means blessings.” Overwhelmed with emotion, as I was about to leave after thanking and saluting the teachers, Rahi sir called from behind, “Hey crazy boy! Comb your hair before entering the board! Wash your face at the basin! Don’t be so scared! Hahaha…” I couldn’t say anything more. I kept staring blankly at sir’s face. My cheeks were wet with tears from both eyes. Babu sir placed his hand on my shoulder and said, “Go on, go upstairs and wait. We are not that much bad people as you thought us to be. Sometimes even the IBA faculties are too good! Freshen up, give your interview properly, now there’s no tension anymore. What’s your exam tomorrow?” “Sir, Mathematical Reasoning and Mental Ability.” “How will you go?” “Sir, I have a return plane ticket.” “Good! Brother, splash some water on your eyes and face to fix your appearance. Give your viva quickly and rush to the airport! Good luck!” At that moment I felt like touching sir’s feet in salute. People get frightened by sudden intense love. For the first time, it suddenly struck me: “What if I can’t honor this love of my teachers? What if I don’t get a chance at IBA in the end?”

When we find ourselves in trouble, if our intentions are pure, a way out always emerges! I went to the washroom on the third floor and tried my best to “make myself presentable” by wetting my hair and smoothing it down. After splashing water on my face, I went and waited in front of the notice board. I was called after 10 minutes. It was nearly seven o’clock. When I entered the room, I saw many faculty members seated there. I hadn’t known that so many would be present for an interview. I thought this was perhaps how IBA interviews were conducted. I later learned that this entire panel had been assembled just for me. Apart from Babu Sir and Rahi Sir, I didn’t recognize anyone else. After getting admitted, I realized that those present that evening were IBA’s most senior and accomplished faculty members. The board included Saiful Majid Sir, Shama-e-Zahir Sir, Mamun Sir, Munir Khosru Sir, Niaz Sir, and Saif Noman Khan Sir. Most of the junior faculty had finished their interviews and gone home, while some senior faculty were in their offices conducting Executive MBA interviews. Some of them had been specially called in. I was in the interview for about 18-20 minutes. Many of the faculty members knew about my situation that day. I had heard of something called “divine possession” in life. At certain special moments, due to particular external influences or circumstances, people suddenly gain extraordinary power. In those moments, they step outside their normal state and display different behavior. They can harness the utmost potential of their inner infinite strength. In that wondrous balanced fusion of emotion and capability, the best version of themselves emerges. From the moment I entered the interview room, I had very likely become a different person, or perhaps the very best ‘me’ from within had emerged that day. By what divine signal this happened, I don’t know. No hesitation, doubt, nervousness, fear, the day’s exhaustion, or lethargy was affecting me at all. I felt incredibly composed and light as a feather. It felt as though whatever I was saying or doing was the best possible. I was experiencing the finest moment of my life right then and there. I can say with complete honesty that the style in which I spoke English that day—I have never in my entire life, even to this day, been able to speak English so flawlessly and fluently. That day the faculty members engaged in various kinds of humor during the interview. They were having great fun with me. Most likely, the faculty wanted to “shake me up” somehow. I don’t know why, by whose indication I don’t know, but I kept answering all their questions one by one with a very cool head and a smile that day. They interviewed me in English on various diverse topics, starting from describing the entire day’s events and the preceding Facebook incidents to many other subjects. (Of course, at IBA there’s absolutely no opportunity to give interviews in Bengali.) Why I wanted to pursue an MBA, why IBA if I was going to take government job exams anyway, my weaknesses, whether I’d ever been in love, how I spend my leisure time, some conversation about reading books, various economic issues of Bangladesh, some personal and family matters, my future plans, the breathless motorcycle journey from A to Z, the BCS examination system, why I went into engineering despite having no interest, why I delayed my honors degree, why I didn’t study properly, why my CGPA was so low, what I like to eat, what kind of personality I prefer in people, what I know about IBA, some current affairs, and several other questions. I was answering very quickly in correct English. The faculty praised this too. I gave a very simple, straightforward, and candid interview. I didn’t speak a single false word that day.

I didn’t need to think before speaking—whatever came to mind, I simply said, so there was no chance to fabricate lies. At the end, they asked me to sing a song. When I said, “I can’t, Sir,” Babu Sir showed me my info-form and laughed, saying, “But you’ve claimed so.” I had written Reading, Writing, Singing in the hobbies section… At that moment, it felt like I was living the best day of my life. I sang, “Aaj ei dintake…” “I see, we’re getting a singer for our cultural program!” As Saiful Majid Sir was saying this, Babu Sir interjected, “Sir, he has another exam tomorrow. He’ll probably be flying back to Chittagong tonight.” Then three or four teachers exclaimed in unison, “What! He’s going back to Chittagong right now? Well then, run along, run along! Go downstairs and see if your superman biker is there! Hahahaha…” As I was leaving with my salaam, the teachers called out, “Best of luck for your tomorrow’s exam.” I kept thinking, again and again—I’ll make it, I’ll make it! (Even after giving the BCS viva, I didn’t feel this good.)

When I stepped out of IBA, it was half past seven on the clock. I knew there was no way I could catch the 7:45 flight. I also knew that I had no idea how I would get to Chittagong that night. I didn’t even feel like thinking about it. Only the exhilarating rush of having given a good exam was coursing through me. Pappu and Arefin had been waiting for me at Madhu’s canteen. Taking them along, I went to the front of Dhaka University’s Central Library and leisurely began eating vegetable pakoras and tea. Many of my students studied in various departments at Dhaka University. Quite a few came to see me. They were asking what questions had been asked in the interview. After a day of incredible experiences, my head had become almost entirely empty. I couldn’t understand why I wasn’t feeling the slightest urgency to return to Chittagong. Pappu asked, “Brother, will you take the night bus?” I said, “Yes, that could work.” (It amuses me now to think how casually I had said ‘that could work’!) The road conditions weren’t good then either, there were always traffic jams. It didn’t even occur to me—what would happen if I couldn’t reach by 10 AM tomorrow? Ripon, a dear younger brother who lived in Chittagong and was one of my former students, said, “Brother, I have a non-AC train ticket; for Turna Nishitha, leaving tonight. It doesn’t matter if I don’t go to Chittagong today. Brother, you take it.” “Alright, fine,” I said, took the ticket, and set off toward Kamalapur Station. That night the train left nearly an hour and a half late. I didn’t even want to think about what was going to happen! I had already surrendered myself to fate long before. In my mind I kept repeating only this: whatever will be, will be. Whether I want it or not, it will happen. And whatever is happening is surely for the good; whatever will happen will surely be for the good too. Let’s see! After the day’s exhaustion, I had a very peaceful sleep. Suddenly I woke up hearing commotion around me. The train had stopped at Comilla. Apparently there was some problem with the line. We were delayed there for nearly two and a quarter hours. I couldn’t understand why I wasn’t feeling any kind of anxiety! I fell asleep again. Sleep is the world’s only faithful lover. Whenever I want it, I find it near. Never, under any circumstances, does it abandon me. There can be no purer love than the love for sleep.

When the train reached Chittagong railway station the next day, it was a quarter to ten in the morning. My exam was scheduled to start at ten. It takes only fifteen minutes to get from the station to my house. When I got home, I found my mother sitting there with everything ready in her hands—my pencil box, board, scale, pen, calculator, admit card, registration card, all of it. My parents had been terribly anxious at home. I hadn’t been able to speak to them since after half past one at night. My mobile had run out of charge. (I was using a cheap Nokia 1100 mobile set back then. Everyone called it the “national set”! It was so sturdy that many would joke, “Dude, you could crack jackfruit with that phone!” I’d tease my friends who used expensive mobiles, saying, “My phone’s model is ‘N Eleven Zero Zero’!”) As soon as my mother saw me, she said, “Dear, how are you? Will you take today’s exam?” I felt emotionally numb. It seemed as though I was lighter than a feather at that moment, floating around in some kind of trance! I smiled and said, “Ma, I’m perfectly fine. I’ll take the exam.” Saying this, I took the packed shopping bag from my mother’s hands and left the house just as I was. It was 10:05 on the clock. From our house to the exam center, it takes at least thirty minutes by CNG during office hours. When I reached the college gate, it was 10:43. That day was the mathematical reasoning and mental ability test. The first two hours were mathematical reasoning, followed by one hour of mental ability. The exam had already started forty-three minutes earlier. Naturally, the police wouldn’t let me enter. I pleaded extensively, kept trying futilely to explain what had happened, but they weren’t willing to listen to anything. But I had made up my mind—I wasn’t going to turn back, I would get inside no matter what. A small commotion started gathering there. Seeing the crowd, the magistrate came over. After hearing my entire story, he said, “You only have one hour left. Can you finish all the math problems in this time?” Without a moment’s hesitation, I said, “I can, sir!” “Alright, go ahead. Good luck!” My heart overflowed with gratitude toward him. At that moment, he seemed to me not human, but divine! I went in, looked at the questions, took the exam. I even showed three problems to the person sitting next to me. (He got a job in Audit and Accounts in the 30th batch.) I scored 98 on that day’s exam—50 in math, 48 in mental ability. After that… well, as everyone says—the rest is history!

But this much is true: had that day’s exam been something other than mathematics, I would have been in real trouble. I can handle math because the type of problems that appeared in the BCS written exam back then weren’t particularly difficult for me to solve. Such problems don’t strain the mind much, and the 30th BCS written exam featured relatively easy math. Even if I worked through each step carefully and added side notes, it shouldn’t have taken more than half an hour. It didn’t for me either. However, spending two and a half hours on the International Affairs exam the day before had been risky. Actually, no matter how incredible the whole affair might seem, everything appears to have been predetermined by the Creator or nature itself. What remains inexplicable to our limited understanding is simply a natural, ordinary occurrence for the Creator. All our failures and successes are already decided beforehand. But to reach that point, the effort—or making the right decision at the right time—that we must do ourselves. I wasn’t even supposed to pass my undergraduate degree. Yet it was my destiny to complete my undergraduate studies, become a BCS cadre, study at IBA—all of it was written in my fate. Had my destiny been bound elsewhere, I would have gone there instead. I had enrolled in another master’s program under Dhaka University—MDS. After continuing that course for three months, I left it of my own accord. They had said I would need to officially hide the fact that I was simultaneously pursuing another master’s at IBA. I refused to lie. I harbor no regret about this, though. I’ve accepted that pursuing that particular master’s degree simply wasn’t written in my destiny. This is the truth, this is reality. I had gained admission to Dhaka University’s Evening MBA program in Finance, ranking sixth on the merit list, but never had to attend classes there. I received my IBA admission test results before that. I did complete my master’s in Finance from Dhaka University, but the Evening MBA program wasn’t destined for me, so I didn’t pursue my master’s degree from there.

Stepping into two boats in the middle of a river ensures certain death. Logic dictates this. But I placed my feet in two boats, taking the maximum risk—I had no other choice—yet both boats moved forward in parallel at the same speed at the same time, so I didn’t slip between them and lose my life. What explanation could there be for this? Life doesn’t follow logic; life follows the Creator’s signals. Life doesn’t always operate according to explanations. Sometimes life moves on faith. So there’s nothing to say about anyone’s personal philosophy and the life they live according to their beliefs, as long as that life doesn’t interfere with someone else’s way of living. Somewhere, no explicable form of life can be seen, and life is just like this!

Through sheer mental strength alone, I had believed that some miracle would surely occur. It did happen, because in Providence’s master plan, that’s what was meant to happen. Everything in between was the Creator’s games or plans to test my patience and concentration. You will never be given a gift you don’t deserve. You will be tested, and if you fail to pass that test, you will deprive yourself of the Creator’s grace through your own fault. I’m sharing with you the Facebook status I posted after the IBA admission test results came out, along with a couple of my own comments on it:

Friends, I’ve been finally selected for admission into the MBA Program of IBA, Dhaka University. …… feeling happy. ……. HATS OFF to Sharmeen didi, Ira madam & Romel bhai!!

# My dear friends….. Your gorgeous presence on my wall makes me think twice about the POWER of friendship & the MAGIC of love. YES……… They matter!! I just want to be with you forever. Please never say GOODBYE…. It hurts!! Your kindness and care mean a lot to me. You’ve always given me much more than I really deserve. Please accept my sincere GRATITUDE.

Happy Social Networking!!

Long live Facebook!!

My best wishes for our Friendship!!

……… Love you all ……

# (To one of my close friends) Dost, not reaching the Interview Session on 17 January at 5:30 pm was what I thought to be….. reaching there in time was what was written in my DESTINY….. And, I ended up calling it a MIRACLE, something I never believed in before…… Just have a look at the schedule of 17 January……

International Affairs Exam (BCS written exam)…. 10:00 am — 1:00 pm

The departure time of the GMG Airlines: 3:20 pm, there was a delay of about 1 hour due to fog and I availed another delayed flight of Bangladesh Biman at 4:37 pm.

The plane landed on Dhaka Airport at 5:13 pm and then I started my fight against time to meet the deadline by bike with Romel bhai!! Who managed those three saviours (Sharmeen didi, Ira madam & Romel bhai) for me? I don’t know. You better ask the Heaven! I saw such a breath-taking motor-bike driving only in English movies. Before that day, I had never thought I would experience it!!

Life is sometimes stranger than fiction . . . . Who can tell it better than I?

# (To one of my senior high-profile Indian friends) Thank you Sir for your words of felicitation. IBA of Dhaka University is considered as the most prestigious institute for doing MBA in Bangladesh. As per the rules of that Business School, the Major/Field of Specialization is allowed to be chosen at the final semester judging the academic records & intention of a candidate. I don’t have much idea about what to choose and why to choose. Please share some ideas on it as you’ve huge practical knowledge (so far as I know) about the present corporate trend.

You’ve nicely stated the trend of our careerist B-school graduates. No one really cares about their own aptitude, rather, tries to be what market wants them to be. Personally, I always like the decision-making and mainstream operational sections of giant companies. And, probably I’ll go for finance as my major when I’ve to choose it in my final semester. Yes, my semester results must be well enough to work on my advantage. That’ll be a story of one and a half years later. Till then, I’ll have to undergo the generalized curriculum as my B-school formulates. The recent economic recession worries our friends studying at the US universities. And, almost all of them suggest me not to plan of staying there. But at the same time, they suggest me completing my PhD in the US if I want to and grab that opportunity. Let’s wait and see. . . . . Are you in India now? Hope you’re quite OK along with your busy schedule. Please, sometimes give me your valuable suggestions when you’ve time and you’re here on Facebook. . . . . Thank you once again for your helpful advice. Take care.

In explaining the final part of the status shared above, I had written these words:

Let me share the Story behind the Story and elucidate the last part of my status. It would have been quite impossible for me to reach Dhaka University from Dhaka International Airport within just 50 minutes (!!) to attend the interview session of IBA in time on Jan 17, but for the cordial help of Sharmeen didi (Sharmeen Muiz) & Ira madam (Johora Bebe Ira). They’re the persons who made that miracle happen!! And, Romel bhai (Monirul Alam Romel) is the “Man with the Bike” who dared fight against time to meet the deadline!! ……. I feel honoured to express my heartfelt gratitude to these three saviours. …….. Miracles Happen When You Believe!!

I conclude this piece with a beautifully strange comment Sharmeen didi made on that status: “My prayers, good wishes, and prayers remain with you. Dear brother of mine, may you grow to great heights. And may the successful reflection of our efforts (Ira’s and mine) shine through in everything you do. I was there, I am here, I will be there. …….. Heaps of hugs and love.”

What sustains a human being? We live on love, on prayers, on good wishes. These are what keep me alive—quite well alive, in fact. My gratitude!

P.S. Let me offer you some practical wisdom. Those who think they know too much, who consider themselves supremely intelligent, who speak in grand terms without any real qualifications or notable position, who try to diminish others even through outright lies, who pontificate without knowledge, who speak to you in such a manner that you begin to doubt your own confidence—I would advise you to absolutely, absolutely, and absolutely avoid such people. They themselves cannot go very far in life, nor will they allow you to go very far either.

(Written 2-3 years ago)

I have been meaning to write this piece for at least the past four years. Due to my characteristic laziness, it remained buried among my lost writings all this time. Unable to let it slip away entirely, I have resolved today to begin writing with the firm determination that, no matter how difficult it becomes, I will not leave this chair until it is finished. The trouble with not writing when one should is that the emotion and enthusiasm of that moment are lost, and often the writing fails to come alive. However, there are many exceptions to this. Sanjibchandra Chattopadhyay, the elder brother of Bankimchandra Chattopadhyay, worked for quite some time as a Deputy Magistrate in the exquisitely beautiful, remote forest region of Palamau. Many years later, he wrote ‘Palamau,’ a work born of memory and reflection. For those who have not yet read ‘Palamau,’ I will say just one thing to convey what kind of writing it is: when Bishwa Sahitya Kendra began its publishing work, everyone at the center was perplexed about which among so many masterpieces of world literature should be printed first. It was then that Abdullah Abu Sayeed decided that the first book published by Bishwa Sahitya Kendra would be ‘Palamau.’ But let me return to what I was saying. To discuss why writing intended to be written often never materializes would be to commit great injustice to oneself and others. So I shall not venture into that discussion. However, regarding this particular piece, I will only say this much: when attempting to describe one of life’s most incredible events, my hands tremble with excitement, memories blur, and a fear pervades my entire being—what would today have been like if everything that day had unfolded differently? I keep thinking that today would not have been anything like today. Today I would have been someone else entirely. Everything around me would have seemed like something else altogether. The truth is, life does not unfold the way we imagine it will. Life unfolds as life does. The color of life appears one way in imagination, but the actual color is different. Even if we think we will spend our lives playing with life itself, it does not necessarily follow that life will pass in precisely that manner. What will happen and what will not—all of this is predetermined. Our task is simply to perform brilliantly on this stage in our own way. The more skillful one’s performance, the more intimately one tastes the flavor of life.

The 30th BCS written examination began on January 11, 2011, and concluded on January 23. On the evening of Wednesday the 12th, I checked the IBA website at Dhaka University and discovered that I was among those who had passed the written portion of the MBA program admission test for the 45th batch. The candidates who passed the written exam would be divided into several groups for interviews, and my group was scheduled for Monday, January 17, at 10 AM at IBA. I had taken the BCS examination from Chittagong, where the PSC-designated examination center for Chittagong candidates was Omar Gani MES College. On the day of my IBA interview, the International Affairs exam was also scheduled to begin at 10 AM. Attending an exam at Dhaka University at the same time was simply impossible. I knew that IBA didn’t offer many second chances. Having secured this opportunity, I couldn’t imagine myself foolish or generous enough to let it slip away. Instead of studying for the next day’s Bangladesh Affairs Paper I, I began calling everyone I knew who had studied at IBA or was familiar with it. I still remember the intense excitement of that time. When something you desperately want comes within reach, yet circumstances force you to let it go—staying calm in such a moment is nearly impossible. Everyone I spoke with on the phone said the same thing: “You can’t have two good things at once. You’ll have to give up one of them. If you try to keep a foot in both boats, you’ll end up with neither. Besides, you can take the BCS exam again, and you can also take the IBA admission test again. Let go of one.” Those who valued the corporate sector highly told me to abandon BCS. Those who valued the civil service told me to pursue IBA later. No one could suggest a way to manage both. At that moment, neither option seemed bigger or smaller to me—my mind had gone completely blank, and I felt as though life was playing a game of Snakes and Ladders with me. The dice might roll such a number that I’d end up in the belly of a snake—but then again, it might not. Sometimes the number that comes up sends you climbing a ladder high above. Life’s Snakes and Ladders board doesn’t contain only snakes—there are ladders too! Who’s to say this throw won’t land on a ladder? Life is indeed like Snakes and Ladders, where the highest number isn’t necessarily the best. Perhaps I’d roll two sixes and then a five—totaling seventeen, the highest possible—yet still end up sliding down a long snake. But equally possible: rolling the smallest number, just one, and finding myself climbing rapidly up a ladder to great heights. Understanding the game of less is the most difficult thing of all! The highest number isn’t always the best. You must see how much is actually needed. Great income, great torment—what need is there for such a large sum? Knowing how to choose the right number for your life is a great art indeed!

I thought, why should I surrender before I’ve even lost? I’ll see this through to the end. At home, my parents were also saying, “Give up one of them.” My heart was telling me, “I won’t give up, not for anything!” Let me gamble with life this once and see what happens! You have to listen to your heart. I called the MBA Program Office. Zakir bhai was in charge there. He said, “IBA’s schedule doesn’t change for anyone. You change your schedule.” I said, “That’s not possible. You have several slots. BCS has only one.” Even after that he said, “It’s not possible in any way. We’re sorry!” Saying this, he hung up the phone, and my stubbornness only grew stronger. I put aside studying for the next day’s exam. After some inquiries, I learned that Rahi Sir was the Program Chairman for IBA’s MBA at the time. Only he could change my interview slot if he wanted to. Rahi Sir is an incredibly fierce person. IBA’s Marketing Department is the best in Bangladesh. Rahi Sir is the best faculty in that department. I got his number. The person I got the number from asked, “Are you really going to call Rahi Sir?” “Yes. Why?” “We students never dare to call Sir. And you’re going to call him for this?” “I will. I have to. My back is against the wall.” “God bless you, man! You better think twice.” I said, “Sometimes life doesn’t give you the opportunity to think twice. It’s the first and the only chance! I must grab it before it’s too late! I will call him. I’ll make my attempt—if it works, it works; if not, so be it. If I don’t try, it definitely won’t work. Thank you, bhai!” Right after finishing that conversation, without any second thoughts, I called Rahi Sir. A man with an extremely serious voice. It’s frightening just to speak with him. But I have nothing left to lose. I only know this: I passed IBA’s written exam and IBA has to conduct my interview. I had truly become reckless. I blurted out my entire problem in one breath. Rahi Sir said, “You silly kid! You’ve dared to call Rahi Sir for this! Did you think I am your friend? It’s not my business whether you can attend the viva board or not. You have only 2 choices: Leave IBA, or, Leave BCS.” To my infinite amazement, I heard myself saying, “Sir, I have called you to hear about the third choice. If you don’t have that, please make it for me. I know I’ll be at IBA.” Sir said very loudly over the phone, “You are a stupid little boy. You just know nothing about the things here! Don’t waste my time. I am busy!” “Sir, please give me a chance. I am………” I couldn’t make him hear any more—he hung up before that. I couldn’t understand what had happened, only felt an even stronger desire to believe that I would definitely study at IBA. BCS seemed to fade for a moment. Whatever happens in tomorrow’s exam will happen. Right now I need to sort out the IBA situation first. I called the program office again.

I asked, “When can I actually meet Rahi sir?” “What do you mean?” “Sir told me to come see him.” “Ask sir himself when you can actually meet him.” (I mustered the courage to lie….) “Sir said to call the program office and find out.” “He told you to ask us? Really! Alright, stay on the line, let me check sir’s class schedule.” Zakir bhai informed me that if I came next Friday evening, I could meet sir. Saying “thank you very much,” I hung up the phone and immediately left home to buy a bus ticket. From near Gariullah Shah’s shrine in Chittagong, I bought a ticket on Unique’s non-AC bus to Dhaka for Thursday night. The next day, under tremendous mental pressure, I took my Bangladesh Studies Paper 1 exam. Even in the exam hall, my mind kept racing: “Will Rahi sir keep his word?” In my answer sheet, I mistakenly wrote the word “Rahi” several times, though I crossed it out later.

I arrived at IBA before afternoon on Friday. I stood waiting in front of the MBA Program Office. Zakir bhai wasn’t there at the time—he came in the evening, two hours later. I went up and introduced myself. “Oh, I see, you’ve come from Chittagong. Rahi sir mentioned he would speak with you about changing your interview schedule? Really??” “Yes, he told me to come see him!” We were talking when Rahi sir arrived shortly after. He went straight through the program office into his room. A dignified man of serious disposition. His office was right next to the program office. Zakir bhai said, “Please sit on the sofa. Let me ask sir if he’s free right now.” When he told sir, “Someone named Sushanta Pal has come from Chittagong to see you—you had asked him to come,” sir immediately shouted quite loudly, “I didn’t ask anyone to come see me! Tell him to leave. Disgusting!” Zakir bhai told me, “Sir won’t see you. You should go.” “I’ll leave, but only after meeting with sir. Brother, I haven’t come here to turn back. I must see him.” Almost forcefully, I entered sir’s room without permission. After I said very politely, “Assalamu alaikum, sir,” he returned the greeting and said, “What do you want?” There were several other students in the room who had come to sir for various matters. “Sir, I called you the day before yesterday evening.” “Is it my duty to remember your call? Get out!” I said nothing and stood there with my head bowed. The words “Get out!” didn’t register in my mind. At that moment, I only knew that I would speak with Rahi sir about changing the schedule, and sir would surely agree to do so. After standing like this for nearly half an hour, sir said, “Why are you standing here like a statue?” I fearfully placed an application about changing the time slot on sir’s desk and began to say, “Sir, the day before yesterday I spoke with you on the phone…” “Speak in the language I am using now.” “Sir, my interview has been scheduled for next Monday at 10 in the morning. I am appearing for the 30th BCS written exam. I have an exam at the same time. So, I request you to shift my schedule to another convenient time slot.” “Sorry, we cannot.” “Please Sir! Otherwise, my dream to be here will be shattered.” “Let it be. Just go for BCS. You will do better being a civil servant.” “But Sir, it’s uncertain.” “Is being here certain for you?” “No Sir, that’s why I cannot leave any of these 2 opportunities. Please Sir, give me a chance. Do me a favour. I will be ever grateful, Sir.” “What time is your exam?” “10 o’clock, sir.” “How long?” “Three hours, sir.” “Okay fine, come straight here after your exam. Can you make it by 1:30?” I realized sir had forgotten that I’d come from Chittagong. “Sir, I’m taking the exam from Chittagong.” “Stupid! We cannot change our schedule for you! Are you Mr President?” “No Sir, I just want to be your student! I will do anything you tell me to do. Please give me a chance, Sir!” “Look, brother, you won’t be able to finish your exam at 1 o’clock and come from Chittagong to take the interview anyway.

You won’t make it even if you leave at 10 PM. The roads are in terrible condition, there’s heavy traffic.” “Sir, I can come in the evening.” “How? By plane?” “Yes, sir. Please give me a chance, sir.” “Alright. Don’t you have an exam the next day?” “I do, sir. I can manage. I’ll buy a return ticket.” “What time can you arrive?” “Whatever you say, sir.” “Your exam will end at 1 PM. Hmm… okay, can you make it to the 3 o’clock board?” “Yes sir, I can be there at 3.” “Do you know if there are flights at that time?” “I don’t know, sir. I’ll find out.” “I think there’s a flight around 3.” “What time can you arrive?” “4 o’clock, sir?” “Foolish boy! Your brain isn’t working. How can you take a 3 o’clock flight from Chittagong and get from the airport to IBA by 4? You have no idea about Dhaka city. Okay, you come by 5:15 sharp. You will be last person in that board. If you come after that, nothing can be done. The evening board is for Executive MBA. It won’t be possible to hold your viva there. Okay?” “Thank you, sir.” “Youngman, you have decided to play with your life! Best of luck!” “Please pray for me, sir. I can do this!” Tears came to my eyes. I realized that though this man appeared stern on the outside, he was very gentle within. I offered many prayers for the sir and left IBA. I went to Aziz and bought some books. Then I went to Fakirapul and took the 10 PM non-AC bus from Unique, reaching Chittagong in the morning.

I’m sharing the application with you:

15 January 2011

The Program Director, MBA Program

Institute of Business Administration

University of Dhaka

Dhaka

Subject: Prayer for changing the time slot of the interview schedule of the MBA Program Admission

Sir,

This letter expresses my earnest request to change my interview schedule of the MBA Program Admission 2010-2011. I am a candidate for Full-Time Course, my admit number is 2745 and I am on Interview Board 6 scheduled to be conducted at the 10:00 am to 1:00 pm time slot on January 17, 2011. I am appearing at the 30th BCS written examination and my Examination Centre is at Chittagong. I have an examination on January 17, 2011, coincided with the same time slot of the interview and so it is not possible for me to come from Chittagong and attend the interview at 10:00 am.

I will be highly obliged if you kindly permit me to attend the interview at the 6:00 pm to 8:30 pm time slot scheduled for Evening Board 3 and Evening Board 4 on January 17, 2011.

Yours faithfully

Sushanta Paul

I had never been on a plane before. I thought that wherever you go, you need a passport to fly. My elder brother called a friend who works with passport services and asked what documents are needed for an emergency passport to Dhaka. He burst out laughing! He said, “Buddy, what do you need a passport for? A plane and a bus are the same thing. One flies in the sky, the other runs on the road. That’s all there is to it! Just go buy a ticket. That’s it! Which one is good? You can go with GMG. That’s pretty good.” I didn’t know that you don’t have to rush to the airport to buy a plane ticket. I had no idea how much tickets cost. Getting off the bus in the morning, I went straight to a Dutch-Bangla Bank booth and withdrew ten thousand taka. Then I jumped into a CNG and rushed to the airport. I bought a ticket from the GMG Airlines counter for the 3:20 flight on Monday, the 17th. That was the first Chittagong-Dhaka flight of the afternoon. I booked a return ticket for the same day on the 7:45 evening flight. I felt like I could see it right before my eyes—me attending classes at IBA! Such a strange vision! I returned home with a victorious smile, almost as if I had already gotten into IBA! At night, I tried to prepare from various guides and the internet about what they might ask in the IBA interview. I studied for about 4-5 hours. At the same time, I posted a status on Facebook: How much time does it take to reach Dhaka University from Dhaka International Airport? Is it possible to reach in 40 minutes? Friends, any suggestion, please? I was truly a very simple person back then. I saw the world in very simple terms. Since I hadn’t visited Dhaka much, I didn’t know that in 2011 it wasn’t possible to get from the airport to Shahbag in 40 minutes. Everyone was saying it would take a minimum of two hours to get from the airport to the university campus in the afternoon. All sorts of bizarre comments came in reply to my status. Many started making fun of me. I’ll share some of my friends’ suggestions: “It’s possible if you run.” “It would be great if you jogged to the university. You’d get your evening exercise too!” “You shouldn’t have bought that plane ticket! With that money, if you had thrown us a party, we all would have prayed together and your BCS would have worked out! Hahahaha…..” “Young man! You’re young, just run as soon as you get off the plane! You’ll see, you’ll reach before time!” “Listen, such-and-such bus runs on such-and-such route. Hanging and sleeping, you’ll reach IBA just fine!” I got many such absurd comments. I knew absolutely nothing about Dhaka then. When you’re in trouble, doesn’t everyone have to give you a kick? It began to feel like that’s just how life is! People can’t extend a hand to pull you up, but they can certainly extend a foot to kick you down! Without getting the least bit discouraged by anyone’s words, I kept waiting to see if someone would give some good advice. I didn’t react to anyone’s reply that day. How helplessly calm a person becomes when in trouble. All I knew was this: “I’m giving my IBA interview on the 17th.” One person wrote, “You can go by bike. There’s no faster way to reach the university campus.” Some people even supported that idea. A few mentioned taxi cabs. Support was strongest for the bike option. Up until then, I had ridden a bike maybe 2-3 times in my entire life, counting generously. I didn’t really know anyone in Dhaka who had a bike, or if I did know someone, my mind wasn’t working at all then. Sometimes I think now, alas!

I couldn’t even afford to manage a bike at that time. I wrote, “My flight is scheduled to land at Dhaka Airport at 4.10 pm on 17 January. I must reach Dhaka University at or before 5.15 pm. I’ve an interview at IBA at that time. . . . Can’t I do it? Is it not possible? I need to do it at any cost. As I don’t know about the routes of Dhaka City, I’m asking for your help. Dhaka City is an unknown city to me. Can a taxi cab help me reach there in 1 hour? I can’t be late, otherwise I’ll miss the interview schedule. I’ve managed that schedule today through an application. . . Can a bike be a better solution? Or, something else? I’m in great trouble. . . .” After posting this, the mocking and laughter began all over again. I replied to the distinguished gentleman (one of Bangladesh’s most successful businessmen) who had advised me to jog there: “Thank you Sir for you ‘jogging’ suggestion. I was also seriously thinking of this option. Yes, I’ll surely manage to reach in time by vehicles, on foot, again by vehicles, again on foot . . . . And, I’ll go. I’ll be there in time by any means.” Someone said, “Change the schedule once more.” I wrote, “The schedule can’t be changed! Hopefully, there will happen some miracle and I’ll manage to avail the schedule in time.” A younger brother wrote, “Brother, you should go by taxi-cab. But you could try the bus once. Dhaka buses run quite well!” I replied, “Brother, I’m not surely making any attempt of getting on a bus! That’ll be horrible, you know. I was just seeking for a suggestion as I don’t know about the route. Thanks for the suggestion. I think a CNG powered taxi can help me in this regard. A taxi-cab is prone to getting stuck up in the congestion forever. A bike could be a better solution. But, I can’t manage it.”

Mrs. Zohra, whose name was Ira—an extremely distinguished lady—commented, “You need a bike?” “That would be wonderful.” “Alright, let me see what I can do.” She was the Deputy Managing Director of ONE Bank. After completing her studies in Chemistry from Chittagong University, she had done her MBA from IBA. She worked in the corporate sector, but there were very few people who didn’t know her. I have a sister. Her name is Sharmin Muiz Khan. At that time, she was one of those rare souls who loved someone as insignificant as me far more than necessary, showered me with affection for no particular reason. She was almost my mother’s age, but I addressed her as ‘tumi’ and she called me ‘tui’. She had studied English Literature at Dhaka University. She particularly loved my writing. She was a business magnate and had connections with many prominent people. I have rarely seen a lady as distinguished, refined, elegant, and utterly graceful as her. She commented, “Bappi, someone needs to grab you and give you a good thrashing. Are you enjoying confusing everyone by calling them all the time? Please stop wasting your time browsing Facebook and concentrate on tomorrow’s exam. Otherwise, you’re calling for another disaster. There is a saying: ‘Que sera, sera’ meaning: Whatever will be, will be. So, pray and try your best. I have given this opinion after a lot of serious thoughts. Please follow it. You will leave here right now. I don’t want to see you making even one more comment! MIRACLES HAPPEN IF YOU BELIEVE IN YOURSELF!” I replied, “Didi, things are that they’re. Things will be that they will be. And, between this two there lie some miracles that we’re never aware of. And, miracles are often stranger than facts. Facts are because they’re. Miracles are because we or someone else wants them to be. That’s the truth!” She called Mrs. Zohra. She said, “Look Ira, my brother has gotten into a bit of trouble. The poor thing is a simple soul, we should do something for him. Can’t you arrange a bike for him?” A little while later, I saw a message from Mrs. Zohra in my inbox: “Please give me your contact number. Regards” I gave it immediately. The call came within seconds. After introducing herself, she said, “You need a bike Monday at 4 PM, right?” “That would be wonderful.” “OK, a bike will be there for you at 4. My colleague Romel will pick you. Alright?” “I am truly, truly grateful. Thank you so very much!” “Let’s get the work done first, then you can thank me. I’m texting you Romel’s number. Take care.” She hung up immediately. I wrote to her: “Life is stranger than fiction, I repeat. From myself, I’ve got much less than I truly deserve. From others, I’ve got much more than I truly deserve. Is it the thing that they call miracle? I don’t know and never try to know. I let miracles happen and thankfully they always happen . . . . . . . Thank you for your generous approach. This really means a lot to me.” I wrote my piece. I don’t know if she ever read it or had the time to read it. Noble souls don’t wait for thanks. Besides, she was truly, truly busy.

He was the head of the credit section at One Bank. He had no reason to know a nobody like me, yet he knew me through my writing. Otherwise, I would never have had the privilege of speaking with him directly. And the fact that Sharmin didi had spoken to him about me—that was a big deal too. The next day was the Bangladesh Affairs Paper 2 exam. I went to sleep without studying any of it. The day after, straight from the exam hall, I went to the Westex showroom at Probortak intersection. My life’s first interview. I was incredibly excited! I had decided I’d go to the interview board wearing everything brand new. I bought a formal white shirt, black pants, black tie, black belt, black socks, white undershirt, and brown shoes. Later, from Gallery Apex I bought formal Oxford shoes, and from Time Zone a Titan wristwatch, then returned home in the evening. Seeing my antics, Ma was laughing. “Ma, why are you laughing?” “Just because, dear.” The funny thing was, Ma went with me to the exam hall every single day. She always kept me close, just like a child. Ma said, “Tomorrow I’m going to the airport with you.” And she did go—despite my protests.

Monday, the 17th. International Affairs exam. I couldn’t stay in the exam hall for the entire time due to nerves. I don’t have a car, what if the CNG takes too long to reach the airport! What if I miss the flight! The flight was at 3:20. And it takes at least 2 hours to reach the airport from Omar Gani MES College by 1 PM. Our written exam had been during winter. In the bitter cold, my fingers would freeze. Still, I kept rubbing my palms together to warm them, blowing hot breath into the hollow of my cupped hands, and wrote with all my strength. Instead of 1 o’clock, I finished the exam at 12:30, submitted my paper, and rushed out. When I emerged from the hall and reached the gate, everyone thought I must have been expelled! The intense stress was clearly written all over my face. Many showed me sympathy, told me not to worry, advised me to do better in the next BCS. I didn’t have time to respond. What could I say anyway—at that moment, life itself was one giant question mark for me! I don’t know what strength possessed my mother. She ran almost twice as fast as me, covering the distance from the college campus to the road. We got into a CNG without bargaining, paying nearly one and a half times the normal fare. I told the driver, “However you manage it, get us to the airport within two hours. If necessary, I’ll pay you extra.” It was 12:50 on the clock. The CNG started speeding. Mother opened the tiffin box and fed me khichuri, meat, and fried egg. One thought kept spinning in my head: “Will I catch the plane? If we get stuck in traffic, it’s all over!” I took off my sweater. I had left home that morning wearing my viva outfit, everything except the tie. After escaping two minor traffic jams, when we reached the airport, it was 5 minutes to 3. As soon as I got down, I touched my mother’s and aunt’s feet in respect (a distant aunt had come with us since mother couldn’t return home from the airport alone) and ran to the counter. There I learned that the flight was delayed by an hour due to dense fog. I thought, if the plane leaves at that time, there’s no way I can reach IBA by 5:15. I informed the counter staff about this. They said there was nothing they could do; they were very sorry. I inquired and learned that no other flights were departing at that time either. At that moment, I felt utterly helpless, just wanting to cry. I felt like I had no one, no one at all! I kept going from counter to counter. I found out there was a Bangladesh Biman flight departing at 3:45. There was no other flight before that. It was a bigger plane, taking 30 minutes to reach, whereas other planes take at least 40 minutes. Meaning, I would reach Dhaka airport by 4:15! I bought the ticket right then. There was great hope in my heart—if this one leaves on time, there’s nothing more to worry about. I went to the airport restroom and quickly put on my tie. I adjusted my shirt once more. Looking in the mirror, I fixed my hair with my hand. The clock hand crossed 4 after passing 3:45. The plane was delayed due to fog. We all boarded the plane at 4:15. It was my first time on a plane. I kept thinking, when will it take off, when will it take off! Every second felt like an hour! The tension was making it hard to breathe, yet the plane wouldn’t take off. I thought, oh! If only I could spend all my strength to make this plane soar into the sky! I pressed my handkerchief over my eyes to hide my tears. Finally, the plane took off. It was 4:37 on the clock. I was thinking, oh!

The plane could have taken off directly without taxiing! At least a couple of minutes would have been saved! The plane landed on Dhaka’s runway at 5:13.

I burst out of the domestic terminal running with all my might, and gasping for breath, I saw a motorcycle come to a stop right in front of me. “You’re Sushanta, right? Get on the back!” I extended my hand to shake hands with the young man in the black helmet. He didn’t raise his black-gloved right fist for a handshake. “Time’s wasting, brother! Please get on! Quick!” I didn’t argue further. “You’re not used to riding bikes, are you?” “Yes. How did you know?” “Brother, I’ve been riding bikes for the past 18-20 years. I can tell.” “I see.” “Lean forward and press your chest firmly against my back! You can even wrap your arms around me, otherwise you’ll get thrown off. For sure! I’m going to ride fast.” The way that bike tore out of the airport—I don’t have the courage to even think about it today. Under normal circumstances, I might have screamed in fear and told him to stop, or I really would have been thrown off. But at that moment I knew that being afraid was important, but far more important was reaching IBA alive. I don’t know if the wheels of that 150cc bike actually touched the ground that day, but for the second time in my life I understood this truth: you cannot frighten someone who stakes their life to touch their dreams. I had only seen bikes racing so recklessly on the roads in movies. The bike was literally cutting through the whooshing sound of wind, as if flying through the air! “Say brother, are you somebody really important?” “What do you mean?” “Well, Madam told me that one of her very important friends had to be delivered from the airport to IBA within half an hour, no matter what. That was her order! Who are you, brother? Hahahaha………” “I’m Madam’s Facebook friend.” “What are you saying, man? How’s that possible! I was thinking even more… you mean you’ve never even met her?” “No, brother. Why?” (There’s a railway crossing ahead. The barrier is coming down.) “Brother, duck your head a little.” Saying this, he quickly rode the bike under the barrier without obeying the signal. Many people behind us were shouting for us to stop. “Brother, just don’t be afraid. Nothing will happen. You can close your eyes if you want.” Right at that moment, while quickly emerging from between two trucks standing side by side, he said, “Sit a bit smaller, brother!” A little further ahead—massive traffic jam at a signal! Romel bhai lifted the bike onto the sidewalk. “Brother, please give way a little, give way a little,” he kept saying as he raced forward. He had to do this several times. Sometimes when riding on the central divider in the middle of the road, traffic police would catch us, and he’d say in a tearful voice, “Sir, my aunt is fighting for her life in the medical college. I’m going to donate blood. O-negative blood—we can’t find any. If I don’t reach on time, we won’t be able to save my aunt, sir!” He’d manage the police with this story and then race off at the same speed again! Whenever there was a traffic jam on the road, he’d immediately change to another road. That day I learned that when obstacles appear on the road, it doesn’t mean there is no road. Rather, it means you have to take a different road! Right now!! I had only seen such daredevil biking in Hollywood action movies. Looking at my hair in the bike’s mirror, it seemed as if it had stood up straight after an electric shock! My face was covered with dust from the city. In the fierce wind, my tie was flying behind me in the air. I don’t know if anyone has ever seen a bike race so recklessly through Dhaka’s roads during rush hour. But for some reason, I truly wasn’t afraid at all. I kept thinking over and over, “How quickly can one reach IBA!” Romel bhai had finished his honors and master’s from Dhaka College before joining the bank. I had asked him, “What’s your designation at the bank?” He had joked, “Not much, just 14 more promotions and I’ll be able to sit in Zohra Madam’s chair. Hahaha…….”

When I arrived in front of IBA, my watch showed 5:52. As I got down, I saw my younger brother Pappu and his friend Arefin standing there. At that time, I had my gift shop ‘Dobhana.’ Pappu and Arefin were my working partners. They often came to Dhaka from Chawk Bazaar in Old Dhaka to buy wholesale goods for the shop. I had withdrawn myself from the shop to focus on my BCS exam preparation. They ran everything. They were already in Dhaka on shop business. I had told them to go to the IBA MBA program office and keep me updated by phone about the viva board situation. Through repeated conversations with them, I was checking whether the interview board was still there, asking them to go to the program office and explain that I couldn’t arrive on time due to flight delays, terrible traffic jams, and so on. As soon as I got down, they informed me, “Bhaiya, the board left 4-5 minutes ago. Now only the Executive MBA viva remains.” After introducing them to Romel bhai, I rushed up to the MBA program office on the second floor. As soon as they saw me, everyone there stopped their work and looked at me. I saw Rahi Sir busy with something; he didn’t respond to my greeting. “Sir, I’m very late. Despite trying hard, I couldn’t arrive on time. I…” Without giving me a chance to say anything more, he shouted, “You Idiot! Get out!” “Sir, I…” “I said, Get out! Out! Out!! I knew very well that you wouldn’t be able to come on time. Is it possible to take one exam in Chittagong and then come to Dhaka for another exam? That easy? You’ve just wasted my time! I had told everyone that a boy from Chittagong would come at 5:15, and we needed to take his viva. Did you think I am a joker?” “Sir, I came here with great difficulty. The flight was delayed, there was heavy traffic on the road. I really…” “It’s none of my business! Get out! Go back where you came from.” “Sir, I had many dreams of studying at IBA.” “Everyone on the street has such dreams. I gave you a chance but you missed it. That’s all! Get out of here.” “Sir, please have some mercy…” (I felt like falling at his feet and crying…) Right beside him sat a gentle-looking gentleman much younger than the sir. He said, “Sir, I’ve heard about him. His younger brother kept coming to our program office. They had been standing in front of the office for hours. His flight was indeed delayed. And there’s heavy traffic in Dhaka today too. A friend of mine came to my room from the airport a while ago; it took him a long time to get here too. Give him a chance, Sir. He’s come so far, taking such risks with great difficulty! He apparently has another written exam tomorrow too. The poor fellow has to return to Chittagong today itself.” “Son, you junior faculty members don’t even know what you’re saying, what kind of requests you make. Why are you pleading for him? Is he your relative or something?” “No no Sir, I’m seeing him for the first time today. Just look at his face once, Sir. He’s really come here with great difficulty. Please do him a favor, Sir.” “You have no idea what you are talking about! Will the Executive MBA viva be the same as theirs? They have 3 years of job experience, while these are just children in comparison!

“This won’t be possible, brother. I am sorry!” “Sir, please help the poor fellow a bit. He’s come such a long way with so much hope!” “Son, we can’t manage anything more for you!” I stood a little distance away, head bowed. Looking at me, he called out loudly, “Hey, stupid! Why are you standing there like a donkey? Go on, go to the third floor! Go and stand there absolutely quietly. We’ll call you.” I truly couldn’t understand whether such a beautiful moment had ever come anywhere in this world before! Tears began streaming down my face. I prayed again and again from my heart for Babu sir. Rahi sir seemed like a father figure to me. I kept remembering mother’s words: “Never get angry at teachers’ scolding. When teachers scold, it means blessings.” Overwhelmed with emotion, as I was about to leave after thanking and saluting the teachers, Rahi sir called from behind, “Hey crazy boy! Comb your hair before entering the board! Wash your face at the basin! Don’t be so scared! Hahaha…” I couldn’t say anything more. I kept staring blankly at sir’s face. My cheeks were wet with tears from both eyes. Babu sir placed his hand on my shoulder and said, “Go on, go upstairs and wait. We are not that much bad people as you thought us to be. Sometimes even the IBA faculties are too good! Freshen up, give your interview properly, now there’s no tension anymore. What’s your exam tomorrow?” “Sir, Mathematical Reasoning and Mental Ability.” “How will you go?” “Sir, I have a return plane ticket.” “Good! Brother, splash some water on your eyes and face to fix your appearance. Give your viva quickly and rush to the airport! Good luck!” At that moment I felt like touching sir’s feet in salute. People get frightened by sudden intense love. For the first time, it suddenly struck me: “What if I can’t honor this love of my teachers? What if I don’t get a chance at IBA in the end?”

When we find ourselves in trouble, if our intentions are pure, a way out always emerges! I went to the washroom on the third floor and tried my best to “make myself presentable” by wetting my hair and smoothing it down. After splashing water on my face, I went and waited in front of the notice board. I was called after 10 minutes. It was nearly seven o’clock. When I entered the room, I saw many faculty members seated there. I hadn’t known that so many would be present for an interview. I thought this was perhaps how IBA interviews were conducted. I later learned that this entire panel had been assembled just for me. Apart from Babu Sir and Rahi Sir, I didn’t recognize anyone else. After getting admitted, I realized that those present that evening were IBA’s most senior and accomplished faculty members. The board included Saiful Majid Sir, Shama-e-Zahir Sir, Mamun Sir, Munir Khosru Sir, Niaz Sir, and Saif Noman Khan Sir. Most of the junior faculty had finished their interviews and gone home, while some senior faculty were in their offices conducting Executive MBA interviews. Some of them had been specially called in. I was in the interview for about 18-20 minutes. Many of the faculty members knew about my situation that day. I had heard of something called “divine possession” in life. At certain special moments, due to particular external influences or circumstances, people suddenly gain extraordinary power. In those moments, they step outside their normal state and display different behavior. They can harness the utmost potential of their inner infinite strength. In that wondrous balanced fusion of emotion and capability, the best version of themselves emerges. From the moment I entered the interview room, I had very likely become a different person, or perhaps the very best ‘me’ from within had emerged that day. By what divine signal this happened, I don’t know. No hesitation, doubt, nervousness, fear, the day’s exhaustion, or lethargy was affecting me at all. I felt incredibly composed and light as a feather. It felt as though whatever I was saying or doing was the best possible. I was experiencing the finest moment of my life right then and there. I can say with complete honesty that the style in which I spoke English that day—I have never in my entire life, even to this day, been able to speak English so flawlessly and fluently. That day the faculty members engaged in various kinds of humor during the interview. They were having great fun with me. Most likely, the faculty wanted to “shake me up” somehow. I don’t know why, by whose indication I don’t know, but I kept answering all their questions one by one with a very cool head and a smile that day. They interviewed me in English on various diverse topics, starting from describing the entire day’s events and the preceding Facebook incidents to many other subjects. (Of course, at IBA there’s absolutely no opportunity to give interviews in Bengali.) Why I wanted to pursue an MBA, why IBA if I was going to take government job exams anyway, my weaknesses, whether I’d ever been in love, how I spend my leisure time, some conversation about reading books, various economic issues of Bangladesh, some personal and family matters, my future plans, the breathless motorcycle journey from A to Z, the BCS examination system, why I went into engineering despite having no interest, why I delayed my honors degree, why I didn’t study properly, why my CGPA was so low, what I like to eat, what kind of personality I prefer in people, what I know about IBA, some current affairs, and several other questions. I was answering very quickly in correct English. The faculty praised this too. I gave a very simple, straightforward, and candid interview. I didn’t speak a single false word that day.

I didn’t need to think before speaking—whatever came to mind, I simply said, so there was no chance to fabricate lies. At the end, they asked me to sing a song. When I said, “I can’t, Sir,” Babu Sir showed me my info-form and laughed, saying, “But you’ve claimed so.” I had written Reading, Writing, Singing in the hobbies section… At that moment, it felt like I was living the best day of my life. I sang, “Aaj ei dintake…” “I see, we’re getting a singer for our cultural program!” As Saiful Majid Sir was saying this, Babu Sir interjected, “Sir, he has another exam tomorrow. He’ll probably be flying back to Chittagong tonight.” Then three or four teachers exclaimed in unison, “What! He’s going back to Chittagong right now? Well then, run along, run along! Go downstairs and see if your superman biker is there! Hahahaha…” As I was leaving with my salaam, the teachers called out, “Best of luck for your tomorrow’s exam.” I kept thinking, again and again—I’ll make it, I’ll make it! (Even after giving the BCS viva, I didn’t feel this good.)

When I stepped out of IBA, it was half past seven on the clock. I knew there was no way I could catch the 7:45 flight. I also knew that I had no idea how I would get to Chittagong that night. I didn’t even feel like thinking about it. Only the exhilarating rush of having given a good exam was coursing through me. Pappu and Arefin had been waiting for me at Madhu’s canteen. Taking them along, I went to the front of Dhaka University’s Central Library and leisurely began eating vegetable pakoras and tea. Many of my students studied in various departments at Dhaka University. Quite a few came to see me. They were asking what questions had been asked in the interview. After a day of incredible experiences, my head had become almost entirely empty. I couldn’t understand why I wasn’t feeling the slightest urgency to return to Chittagong. Pappu asked, “Brother, will you take the night bus?” I said, “Yes, that could work.” (It amuses me now to think how casually I had said ‘that could work’!) The road conditions weren’t good then either, there were always traffic jams. It didn’t even occur to me—what would happen if I couldn’t reach by 10 AM tomorrow? Ripon, a dear younger brother who lived in Chittagong and was one of my former students, said, “Brother, I have a non-AC train ticket; for Turna Nishitha, leaving tonight. It doesn’t matter if I don’t go to Chittagong today. Brother, you take it.” “Alright, fine,” I said, took the ticket, and set off toward Kamalapur Station. That night the train left nearly an hour and a half late. I didn’t even want to think about what was going to happen! I had already surrendered myself to fate long before. In my mind I kept repeating only this: whatever will be, will be. Whether I want it or not, it will happen. And whatever is happening is surely for the good; whatever will happen will surely be for the good too. Let’s see! After the day’s exhaustion, I had a very peaceful sleep. Suddenly I woke up hearing commotion around me. The train had stopped at Comilla. Apparently there was some problem with the line. We were delayed there for nearly two and a quarter hours. I couldn’t understand why I wasn’t feeling any kind of anxiety! I fell asleep again. Sleep is the world’s only faithful lover. Whenever I want it, I find it near. Never, under any circumstances, does it abandon me. There can be no purer love than the love for sleep.

When the train reached Chittagong railway station the next day, it was a quarter to ten in the morning. My exam was scheduled to start at ten. It takes only fifteen minutes to get from the station to my house. When I got home, I found my mother sitting there with everything ready in her hands—my pencil box, board, scale, pen, calculator, admit card, registration card, all of it. My parents had been terribly anxious at home. I hadn’t been able to speak to them since after half past one at night. My mobile had run out of charge. (I was using a cheap Nokia 1100 mobile set back then. Everyone called it the “national set”! It was so sturdy that many would joke, “Dude, you could crack jackfruit with that phone!” I’d tease my friends who used expensive mobiles, saying, “My phone’s model is ‘N Eleven Zero Zero’!”) As soon as my mother saw me, she said, “Dear, how are you? Will you take today’s exam?” I felt emotionally numb. It seemed as though I was lighter than a feather at that moment, floating around in some kind of trance! I smiled and said, “Ma, I’m perfectly fine. I’ll take the exam.” Saying this, I took the packed shopping bag from my mother’s hands and left the house just as I was. It was 10:05 on the clock. From our house to the exam center, it takes at least thirty minutes by CNG during office hours. When I reached the college gate, it was 10:43. That day was the mathematical reasoning and mental ability test. The first two hours were mathematical reasoning, followed by one hour of mental ability. The exam had already started forty-three minutes earlier. Naturally, the police wouldn’t let me enter. I pleaded extensively, kept trying futilely to explain what had happened, but they weren’t willing to listen to anything. But I had made up my mind—I wasn’t going to turn back, I would get inside no matter what. A small commotion started gathering there. Seeing the crowd, the magistrate came over. After hearing my entire story, he said, “You only have one hour left. Can you finish all the math problems in this time?” Without a moment’s hesitation, I said, “I can, sir!” “Alright, go ahead. Good luck!” My heart overflowed with gratitude toward him. At that moment, he seemed to me not human, but divine! I went in, looked at the questions, took the exam. I even showed three problems to the person sitting next to me. (He got a job in Audit and Accounts in the 30th batch.) I scored 98 on that day’s exam—50 in math, 48 in mental ability. After that… well, as everyone says—the rest is history!

But this much is true: had that day’s exam been something other than mathematics, I would have been in real trouble. I can handle math because the type of problems that appeared in the BCS written exam back then weren’t particularly difficult for me to solve. Such problems don’t strain the mind much, and the 30th BCS written exam featured relatively easy math. Even if I worked through each step carefully and added side notes, it shouldn’t have taken more than half an hour. It didn’t for me either. However, spending two and a half hours on the International Affairs exam the day before had been risky. Actually, no matter how incredible the whole affair might seem, everything appears to have been predetermined by the Creator or nature itself. What remains inexplicable to our limited understanding is simply a natural, ordinary occurrence for the Creator. All our failures and successes are already decided beforehand. But to reach that point, the effort—or making the right decision at the right time—that we must do ourselves. I wasn’t even supposed to pass my undergraduate degree. Yet it was my destiny to complete my undergraduate studies, become a BCS cadre, study at IBA—all of it was written in my fate. Had my destiny been bound elsewhere, I would have gone there instead. I had enrolled in another master’s program under Dhaka University—MDS. After continuing that course for three months, I left it of my own accord. They had said I would need to officially hide the fact that I was simultaneously pursuing another master’s at IBA. I refused to lie. I harbor no regret about this, though. I’ve accepted that pursuing that particular master’s degree simply wasn’t written in my destiny. This is the truth, this is reality. I had gained admission to Dhaka University’s Evening MBA program in Finance, ranking sixth on the merit list, but never had to attend classes there. I received my IBA admission test results before that. I did complete my master’s in Finance from Dhaka University, but the Evening MBA program wasn’t destined for me, so I didn’t pursue my master’s degree from there.

Stepping into two boats in the middle of a river ensures certain death. Logic dictates this. But I placed my feet in two boats, taking the maximum risk—I had no other choice—yet both boats moved forward in parallel at the same speed at the same time, so I didn’t slip between them and lose my life. What explanation could there be for this? Life doesn’t follow logic; life follows the Creator’s signals. Life doesn’t always operate according to explanations. Sometimes life moves on faith. So there’s nothing to say about anyone’s personal philosophy and the life they live according to their beliefs, as long as that life doesn’t interfere with someone else’s way of living. Somewhere, no explicable form of life can be seen, and life is just like this!

Through sheer mental strength alone, I had believed that some miracle would surely occur. It did happen, because in Providence’s master plan, that’s what was meant to happen. Everything in between was the Creator’s games or plans to test my patience and concentration. You will never be given a gift you don’t deserve. You will be tested, and if you fail to pass that test, you will deprive yourself of the Creator’s grace through your own fault. I’m sharing with you the Facebook status I posted after the IBA admission test results came out, along with a couple of my own comments on it:

Friends, I’ve been finally selected for admission into the MBA Program of IBA, Dhaka University. …… feeling happy. ……. HATS OFF to Sharmeen didi, Ira madam & Romel bhai!!

# My dear friends….. Your gorgeous presence on my wall makes me think twice about the POWER of friendship & the MAGIC of love. YES……… They matter!! I just want to be with you forever. Please never say GOODBYE…. It hurts!! Your kindness and care mean a lot to me. You’ve always given me much more than I really deserve. Please accept my sincere GRATITUDE.

Happy Social Networking!!

Long live Facebook!!

My best wishes for our Friendship!!

……… Love you all ……

# (To one of my close friends) Dost, not reaching the Interview Session on 17 January at 5:30 pm was what I thought to be….. reaching there in time was what was written in my DESTINY….. And, I ended up calling it a MIRACLE, something I never believed in before…… Just have a look at the schedule of 17 January……

International Affairs Exam (BCS written exam)…. 10:00 am — 1:00 pm

The departure time of the GMG Airlines: 3:20 pm, there was a delay of about 1 hour due to fog and I availed another delayed flight of Bangladesh Biman at 4:37 pm.

The plane landed on Dhaka Airport at 5:13 pm and then I started my fight against time to meet the deadline by bike with Romel bhai!! Who managed those three saviours (Sharmeen didi, Ira madam & Romel bhai) for me? I don’t know. You better ask the Heaven! I saw such a breath-taking motor-bike driving only in English movies. Before that day, I had never thought I would experience it!!

Life is sometimes stranger than fiction . . . . Who can tell it better than I?

# (To one of my senior high-profile Indian friends) Thank you Sir for your words of felicitation. IBA of Dhaka University is considered as the most prestigious institute for doing MBA in Bangladesh. As per the rules of that Business School, the Major/Field of Specialization is allowed to be chosen at the final semester judging the academic records & intention of a candidate. I don’t have much idea about what to choose and why to choose. Please share some ideas on it as you’ve huge practical knowledge (so far as I know) about the present corporate trend.

You’ve nicely stated the trend of our careerist B-school graduates. No one really cares about their own aptitude, rather, tries to be what market wants them to be. Personally, I always like the decision-making and mainstream operational sections of giant companies. And, probably I’ll go for finance as my major when I’ve to choose it in my final semester. Yes, my semester results must be well enough to work on my advantage. That’ll be a story of one and a half years later. Till then, I’ll have to undergo the generalized curriculum as my B-school formulates. The recent economic recession worries our friends studying at the US universities. And, almost all of them suggest me not to plan of staying there. But at the same time, they suggest me completing my PhD in the US if I want to and grab that opportunity. Let’s wait and see. . . . . Are you in India now? Hope you’re quite OK along with your busy schedule. Please, sometimes give me your valuable suggestions when you’ve time and you’re here on Facebook. . . . . Thank you once again for your helpful advice. Take care.

In explaining the final part of the status shared above, I had written these words:

Let me share the Story behind the Story and elucidate the last part of my status. It would have been quite impossible for me to reach Dhaka University from Dhaka International Airport within just 50 minutes (!!) to attend the interview session of IBA in time on Jan 17, but for the cordial help of Sharmeen didi (Sharmeen Muiz) & Ira madam (Johora Bebe Ira). They’re the persons who made that miracle happen!! And, Romel bhai (Monirul Alam Romel) is the “Man with the Bike” who dared fight against time to meet the deadline!! ……. I feel honoured to express my heartfelt gratitude to these three saviours. …….. Miracles Happen When You Believe!!

I conclude this piece with a beautifully strange comment Sharmeen didi made on that status: “My prayers, good wishes, and prayers remain with you. Dear brother of mine, may you grow to great heights. And may the successful reflection of our efforts (Ira’s and mine) shine through in everything you do. I was there, I am here, I will be there. …….. Heaps of hugs and love.”

What sustains a human being? We live on love, on prayers, on good wishes. These are what keep me alive—quite well alive, in fact. My gratitude!

P.S. Let me offer you some practical wisdom. Those who think they know too much, who consider themselves supremely intelligent, who speak in grand terms without any real qualifications or notable position, who try to diminish others even through outright lies, who pontificate without knowledge, who speak to you in such a manner that you begin to doubt your own confidence—I would advise you to absolutely, absolutely, and absolutely avoid such people. They themselves cannot go very far in life, nor will they allow you to go very far either.

(Written 2-3 years ago)

I had never been on a plane before. I thought that wherever you go, you need a passport to fly. My elder brother called a friend who works with passport services and asked what documents are needed for an emergency passport to Dhaka. He burst out laughing! He said, “Buddy, what do you need a passport for? A plane and a bus are the same thing. One flies in the sky, the other runs on the road. That’s all there is to it! Just go buy a ticket. That’s it! Which one is good? You can go with GMG. That’s pretty good.” I didn’t know that you don’t have to rush to the airport to buy a plane ticket. I had no idea how much tickets cost. Getting off the bus in the morning, I went straight to a Dutch-Bangla Bank booth and withdrew ten thousand taka. Then I jumped into a CNG and rushed to the airport. I bought a ticket from the GMG Airlines counter for the 3:20 flight on Monday, the 17th. That was the first Chittagong-Dhaka flight of the afternoon. I booked a return ticket for the same day on the 7:45 evening flight. I felt like I could see it right before my eyes—me attending classes at IBA! Such a strange vision! I returned home with a victorious smile, almost as if I had already gotten into IBA! At night, I tried to prepare from various guides and the internet about what they might ask in the IBA interview. I studied for about 4-5 hours. At the same time, I posted a status on Facebook: How much time does it take to reach Dhaka University from Dhaka International Airport? Is it possible to reach in 40 minutes? Friends, any suggestion, please? I was truly a very simple person back then. I saw the world in very simple terms. Since I hadn’t visited Dhaka much, I didn’t know that in 2011 it wasn’t possible to get from the airport to Shahbag in 40 minutes. Everyone was saying it would take a minimum of two hours to get from the airport to the university campus in the afternoon. All sorts of bizarre comments came in reply to my status. Many started making fun of me. I’ll share some of my friends’ suggestions: “It’s possible if you run.” “It would be great if you jogged to the university. You’d get your evening exercise too!” “You shouldn’t have bought that plane ticket! With that money, if you had thrown us a party, we all would have prayed together and your BCS would have worked out! Hahahaha…..” “Young man! You’re young, just run as soon as you get off the plane! You’ll see, you’ll reach before time!” “Listen, such-and-such bus runs on such-and-such route. Hanging and sleeping, you’ll reach IBA just fine!” I got many such absurd comments. I knew absolutely nothing about Dhaka then. When you’re in trouble, doesn’t everyone have to give you a kick? It began to feel like that’s just how life is! People can’t extend a hand to pull you up, but they can certainly extend a foot to kick you down! Without getting the least bit discouraged by anyone’s words, I kept waiting to see if someone would give some good advice. I didn’t react to anyone’s reply that day. How helplessly calm a person becomes when in trouble. All I knew was this: “I’m giving my IBA interview on the 17th.” One person wrote, “You can go by bike. There’s no faster way to reach the university campus.” Some people even supported that idea. A few mentioned taxi cabs. Support was strongest for the bike option. Up until then, I had ridden a bike maybe 2-3 times in my entire life, counting generously. I didn’t really know anyone in Dhaka who had a bike, or if I did know someone, my mind wasn’t working at all then. Sometimes I think now, alas!

I couldn’t even afford to manage a bike at that time. I wrote, “My flight is scheduled to land at Dhaka Airport at 4.10 pm on 17 January. I must reach Dhaka University at or before 5.15 pm. I’ve an interview at IBA at that time. . . . Can’t I do it? Is it not possible? I need to do it at any cost. As I don’t know about the routes of Dhaka City, I’m asking for your help. Dhaka City is an unknown city to me. Can a taxi cab help me reach there in 1 hour? I can’t be late, otherwise I’ll miss the interview schedule. I’ve managed that schedule today through an application. . . Can a bike be a better solution? Or, something else? I’m in great trouble. . . .” After posting this, the mocking and laughter began all over again. I replied to the distinguished gentleman (one of Bangladesh’s most successful businessmen) who had advised me to jog there: “Thank you Sir for you ‘jogging’ suggestion. I was also seriously thinking of this option. Yes, I’ll surely manage to reach in time by vehicles, on foot, again by vehicles, again on foot . . . . And, I’ll go. I’ll be there in time by any means.” Someone said, “Change the schedule once more.” I wrote, “The schedule can’t be changed! Hopefully, there will happen some miracle and I’ll manage to avail the schedule in time.” A younger brother wrote, “Brother, you should go by taxi-cab. But you could try the bus once. Dhaka buses run quite well!” I replied, “Brother, I’m not surely making any attempt of getting on a bus! That’ll be horrible, you know. I was just seeking for a suggestion as I don’t know about the route. Thanks for the suggestion. I think a CNG powered taxi can help me in this regard. A taxi-cab is prone to getting stuck up in the congestion forever. A bike could be a better solution. But, I can’t manage it.”

Mrs. Zohra, whose name was Ira—an extremely distinguished lady—commented, “You need a bike?” “That would be wonderful.” “Alright, let me see what I can do.” She was the Deputy Managing Director of ONE Bank. After completing her studies in Chemistry from Chittagong University, she had done her MBA from IBA. She worked in the corporate sector, but there were very few people who didn’t know her. I have a sister. Her name is Sharmin Muiz Khan. At that time, she was one of those rare souls who loved someone as insignificant as me far more than necessary, showered me with affection for no particular reason. She was almost my mother’s age, but I addressed her as ‘tumi’ and she called me ‘tui’. She had studied English Literature at Dhaka University. She particularly loved my writing. She was a business magnate and had connections with many prominent people. I have rarely seen a lady as distinguished, refined, elegant, and utterly graceful as her. She commented, “Bappi, someone needs to grab you and give you a good thrashing. Are you enjoying confusing everyone by calling them all the time? Please stop wasting your time browsing Facebook and concentrate on tomorrow’s exam. Otherwise, you’re calling for another disaster. There is a saying: ‘Que sera, sera’ meaning: Whatever will be, will be. So, pray and try your best. I have given this opinion after a lot of serious thoughts. Please follow it. You will leave here right now. I don’t want to see you making even one more comment! MIRACLES HAPPEN IF YOU BELIEVE IN YOURSELF!” I replied, “Didi, things are that they’re. Things will be that they will be. And, between this two there lie some miracles that we’re never aware of. And, miracles are often stranger than facts. Facts are because they’re. Miracles are because we or someone else wants them to be. That’s the truth!” She called Mrs. Zohra. She said, “Look Ira, my brother has gotten into a bit of trouble. The poor thing is a simple soul, we should do something for him. Can’t you arrange a bike for him?” A little while later, I saw a message from Mrs. Zohra in my inbox: “Please give me your contact number. Regards” I gave it immediately. The call came within seconds. After introducing herself, she said, “You need a bike Monday at 4 PM, right?” “That would be wonderful.” “OK, a bike will be there for you at 4. My colleague Romel will pick you. Alright?” “I am truly, truly grateful. Thank you so very much!” “Let’s get the work done first, then you can thank me. I’m texting you Romel’s number. Take care.” She hung up immediately. I wrote to her: “Life is stranger than fiction, I repeat. From myself, I’ve got much less than I truly deserve. From others, I’ve got much more than I truly deserve. Is it the thing that they call miracle? I don’t know and never try to know. I let miracles happen and thankfully they always happen . . . . . . . Thank you for your generous approach. This really means a lot to me.” I wrote my piece. I don’t know if she ever read it or had the time to read it. Noble souls don’t wait for thanks. Besides, she was truly, truly busy.

He was the head of the credit section at One Bank. He had no reason to know a nobody like me, yet he knew me through my writing. Otherwise, I would never have had the privilege of speaking with him directly. And the fact that Sharmin didi had spoken to him about me—that was a big deal too. The next day was the Bangladesh Affairs Paper 2 exam. I went to sleep without studying any of it. The day after, straight from the exam hall, I went to the Westex showroom at Probortak intersection. My life’s first interview. I was incredibly excited! I had decided I’d go to the interview board wearing everything brand new. I bought a formal white shirt, black pants, black tie, black belt, black socks, white undershirt, and brown shoes. Later, from Gallery Apex I bought formal Oxford shoes, and from Time Zone a Titan wristwatch, then returned home in the evening. Seeing my antics, Ma was laughing. “Ma, why are you laughing?” “Just because, dear.” The funny thing was, Ma went with me to the exam hall every single day. She always kept me close, just like a child. Ma said, “Tomorrow I’m going to the airport with you.” And she did go—despite my protests.

Monday, the 17th. International Affairs exam. I couldn’t stay in the exam hall for the entire time due to nerves. I don’t have a car, what if the CNG takes too long to reach the airport! What if I miss the flight! The flight was at 3:20. And it takes at least 2 hours to reach the airport from Omar Gani MES College by 1 PM. Our written exam had been during winter. In the bitter cold, my fingers would freeze. Still, I kept rubbing my palms together to warm them, blowing hot breath into the hollow of my cupped hands, and wrote with all my strength. Instead of 1 o’clock, I finished the exam at 12:30, submitted my paper, and rushed out. When I emerged from the hall and reached the gate, everyone thought I must have been expelled! The intense stress was clearly written all over my face. Many showed me sympathy, told me not to worry, advised me to do better in the next BCS. I didn’t have time to respond. What could I say anyway—at that moment, life itself was one giant question mark for me! I don’t know what strength possessed my mother. She ran almost twice as fast as me, covering the distance from the college campus to the road. We got into a CNG without bargaining, paying nearly one and a half times the normal fare. I told the driver, “However you manage it, get us to the airport within two hours. If necessary, I’ll pay you extra.” It was 12:50 on the clock. The CNG started speeding. Mother opened the tiffin box and fed me khichuri, meat, and fried egg. One thought kept spinning in my head: “Will I catch the plane? If we get stuck in traffic, it’s all over!” I took off my sweater. I had left home that morning wearing my viva outfit, everything except the tie. After escaping two minor traffic jams, when we reached the airport, it was 5 minutes to 3. As soon as I got down, I touched my mother’s and aunt’s feet in respect (a distant aunt had come with us since mother couldn’t return home from the airport alone) and ran to the counter. There I learned that the flight was delayed by an hour due to dense fog. I thought, if the plane leaves at that time, there’s no way I can reach IBA by 5:15. I informed the counter staff about this. They said there was nothing they could do; they were very sorry. I inquired and learned that no other flights were departing at that time either. At that moment, I felt utterly helpless, just wanting to cry. I felt like I had no one, no one at all! I kept going from counter to counter. I found out there was a Bangladesh Biman flight departing at 3:45. There was no other flight before that. It was a bigger plane, taking 30 minutes to reach, whereas other planes take at least 40 minutes. Meaning, I would reach Dhaka airport by 4:15! I bought the ticket right then. There was great hope in my heart—if this one leaves on time, there’s nothing more to worry about. I went to the airport restroom and quickly put on my tie. I adjusted my shirt once more. Looking in the mirror, I fixed my hair with my hand. The clock hand crossed 4 after passing 3:45. The plane was delayed due to fog. We all boarded the plane at 4:15. It was my first time on a plane. I kept thinking, when will it take off, when will it take off! Every second felt like an hour! The tension was making it hard to breathe, yet the plane wouldn’t take off. I thought, oh! If only I could spend all my strength to make this plane soar into the sky! I pressed my handkerchief over my eyes to hide my tears. Finally, the plane took off. It was 4:37 on the clock. I was thinking, oh!

The plane could have taken off directly without taxiing! At least a couple of minutes would have been saved! The plane landed on Dhaka’s runway at 5:13.

I burst out of the domestic terminal running with all my might, and gasping for breath, I saw a motorcycle come to a stop right in front of me. “You’re Sushanta, right? Get on the back!” I extended my hand to shake hands with the young man in the black helmet. He didn’t raise his black-gloved right fist for a handshake. “Time’s wasting, brother! Please get on! Quick!” I didn’t argue further. “You’re not used to riding bikes, are you?” “Yes. How did you know?” “Brother, I’ve been riding bikes for the past 18-20 years. I can tell.” “I see.” “Lean forward and press your chest firmly against my back! You can even wrap your arms around me, otherwise you’ll get thrown off. For sure! I’m going to ride fast.” The way that bike tore out of the airport—I don’t have the courage to even think about it today. Under normal circumstances, I might have screamed in fear and told him to stop, or I really would have been thrown off. But at that moment I knew that being afraid was important, but far more important was reaching IBA alive. I don’t know if the wheels of that 150cc bike actually touched the ground that day, but for the second time in my life I understood this truth: you cannot frighten someone who stakes their life to touch their dreams. I had only seen bikes racing so recklessly on the roads in movies. The bike was literally cutting through the whooshing sound of wind, as if flying through the air! “Say brother, are you somebody really important?” “What do you mean?” “Well, Madam told me that one of her very important friends had to be delivered from the airport to IBA within half an hour, no matter what. That was her order! Who are you, brother? Hahahaha………” “I’m Madam’s Facebook friend.” “What are you saying, man? How’s that possible! I was thinking even more… you mean you’ve never even met her?” “No, brother. Why?” (There’s a railway crossing ahead. The barrier is coming down.) “Brother, duck your head a little.” Saying this, he quickly rode the bike under the barrier without obeying the signal. Many people behind us were shouting for us to stop. “Brother, just don’t be afraid. Nothing will happen. You can close your eyes if you want.” Right at that moment, while quickly emerging from between two trucks standing side by side, he said, “Sit a bit smaller, brother!” A little further ahead—massive traffic jam at a signal! Romel bhai lifted the bike onto the sidewalk. “Brother, please give way a little, give way a little,” he kept saying as he raced forward. He had to do this several times. Sometimes when riding on the central divider in the middle of the road, traffic police would catch us, and he’d say in a tearful voice, “Sir, my aunt is fighting for her life in the medical college. I’m going to donate blood. O-negative blood—we can’t find any. If I don’t reach on time, we won’t be able to save my aunt, sir!” He’d manage the police with this story and then race off at the same speed again! Whenever there was a traffic jam on the road, he’d immediately change to another road. That day I learned that when obstacles appear on the road, it doesn’t mean there is no road. Rather, it means you have to take a different road! Right now!! I had only seen such daredevil biking in Hollywood action movies. Looking at my hair in the bike’s mirror, it seemed as if it had stood up straight after an electric shock! My face was covered with dust from the city. In the fierce wind, my tie was flying behind me in the air. I don’t know if anyone has ever seen a bike race so recklessly through Dhaka’s roads during rush hour. But for some reason, I truly wasn’t afraid at all. I kept thinking over and over, “How quickly can one reach IBA!” Romel bhai had finished his honors and master’s from Dhaka College before joining the bank. I had asked him, “What’s your designation at the bank?” He had joked, “Not much, just 14 more promotions and I’ll be able to sit in Zohra Madam’s chair. Hahaha…….”

When I arrived in front of IBA, my watch showed 5:52. As I got down, I saw my younger brother Pappu and his friend Arefin standing there. At that time, I had my gift shop ‘Dobhana.’ Pappu and Arefin were my working partners. They often came to Dhaka from Chawk Bazaar in Old Dhaka to buy wholesale goods for the shop. I had withdrawn myself from the shop to focus on my BCS exam preparation. They ran everything. They were already in Dhaka on shop business. I had told them to go to the IBA MBA program office and keep me updated by phone about the viva board situation. Through repeated conversations with them, I was checking whether the interview board was still there, asking them to go to the program office and explain that I couldn’t arrive on time due to flight delays, terrible traffic jams, and so on. As soon as I got down, they informed me, “Bhaiya, the board left 4-5 minutes ago. Now only the Executive MBA viva remains.” After introducing them to Romel bhai, I rushed up to the MBA program office on the second floor. As soon as they saw me, everyone there stopped their work and looked at me. I saw Rahi Sir busy with something; he didn’t respond to my greeting. “Sir, I’m very late. Despite trying hard, I couldn’t arrive on time. I…” Without giving me a chance to say anything more, he shouted, “You Idiot! Get out!” “Sir, I…” “I said, Get out! Out! Out!! I knew very well that you wouldn’t be able to come on time. Is it possible to take one exam in Chittagong and then come to Dhaka for another exam? That easy? You’ve just wasted my time! I had told everyone that a boy from Chittagong would come at 5:15, and we needed to take his viva. Did you think I am a joker?” “Sir, I came here with great difficulty. The flight was delayed, there was heavy traffic on the road. I really…” “It’s none of my business! Get out! Go back where you came from.” “Sir, I had many dreams of studying at IBA.” “Everyone on the street has such dreams. I gave you a chance but you missed it. That’s all! Get out of here.” “Sir, please have some mercy…” (I felt like falling at his feet and crying…) Right beside him sat a gentle-looking gentleman much younger than the sir. He said, “Sir, I’ve heard about him. His younger brother kept coming to our program office. They had been standing in front of the office for hours. His flight was indeed delayed. And there’s heavy traffic in Dhaka today too. A friend of mine came to my room from the airport a while ago; it took him a long time to get here too. Give him a chance, Sir. He’s come so far, taking such risks with great difficulty! He apparently has another written exam tomorrow too. The poor fellow has to return to Chittagong today itself.” “Son, you junior faculty members don’t even know what you’re saying, what kind of requests you make. Why are you pleading for him? Is he your relative or something?” “No no Sir, I’m seeing him for the first time today. Just look at his face once, Sir. He’s really come here with great difficulty. Please do him a favor, Sir.” “You have no idea what you are talking about! Will the Executive MBA viva be the same as theirs? They have 3 years of job experience, while these are just children in comparison!

“This won’t be possible, brother. I am sorry!” “Sir, please help the poor fellow a bit. He’s come such a long way with so much hope!” “Son, we can’t manage anything more for you!” I stood a little distance away, head bowed. Looking at me, he called out loudly, “Hey, stupid! Why are you standing there like a donkey? Go on, go to the third floor! Go and stand there absolutely quietly. We’ll call you.” I truly couldn’t understand whether such a beautiful moment had ever come anywhere in this world before! Tears began streaming down my face. I prayed again and again from my heart for Babu sir. Rahi sir seemed like a father figure to me. I kept remembering mother’s words: “Never get angry at teachers’ scolding. When teachers scold, it means blessings.” Overwhelmed with emotion, as I was about to leave after thanking and saluting the teachers, Rahi sir called from behind, “Hey crazy boy! Comb your hair before entering the board! Wash your face at the basin! Don’t be so scared! Hahaha…” I couldn’t say anything more. I kept staring blankly at sir’s face. My cheeks were wet with tears from both eyes. Babu sir placed his hand on my shoulder and said, “Go on, go upstairs and wait. We are not that much bad people as you thought us to be. Sometimes even the IBA faculties are too good! Freshen up, give your interview properly, now there’s no tension anymore. What’s your exam tomorrow?” “Sir, Mathematical Reasoning and Mental Ability.” “How will you go?” “Sir, I have a return plane ticket.” “Good! Brother, splash some water on your eyes and face to fix your appearance. Give your viva quickly and rush to the airport! Good luck!” At that moment I felt like touching sir’s feet in salute. People get frightened by sudden intense love. For the first time, it suddenly struck me: “What if I can’t honor this love of my teachers? What if I don’t get a chance at IBA in the end?”

When we find ourselves in trouble, if our intentions are pure, a way out always emerges! I went to the washroom on the third floor and tried my best to “make myself presentable” by wetting my hair and smoothing it down. After splashing water on my face, I went and waited in front of the notice board. I was called after 10 minutes. It was nearly seven o’clock. When I entered the room, I saw many faculty members seated there. I hadn’t known that so many would be present for an interview. I thought this was perhaps how IBA interviews were conducted. I later learned that this entire panel had been assembled just for me. Apart from Babu Sir and Rahi Sir, I didn’t recognize anyone else. After getting admitted, I realized that those present that evening were IBA’s most senior and accomplished faculty members. The board included Saiful Majid Sir, Shama-e-Zahir Sir, Mamun Sir, Munir Khosru Sir, Niaz Sir, and Saif Noman Khan Sir. Most of the junior faculty had finished their interviews and gone home, while some senior faculty were in their offices conducting Executive MBA interviews. Some of them had been specially called in. I was in the interview for about 18-20 minutes. Many of the faculty members knew about my situation that day. I had heard of something called “divine possession” in life. At certain special moments, due to particular external influences or circumstances, people suddenly gain extraordinary power. In those moments, they step outside their normal state and display different behavior. They can harness the utmost potential of their inner infinite strength. In that wondrous balanced fusion of emotion and capability, the best version of themselves emerges. From the moment I entered the interview room, I had very likely become a different person, or perhaps the very best ‘me’ from within had emerged that day. By what divine signal this happened, I don’t know. No hesitation, doubt, nervousness, fear, the day’s exhaustion, or lethargy was affecting me at all. I felt incredibly composed and light as a feather. It felt as though whatever I was saying or doing was the best possible. I was experiencing the finest moment of my life right then and there. I can say with complete honesty that the style in which I spoke English that day—I have never in my entire life, even to this day, been able to speak English so flawlessly and fluently. That day the faculty members engaged in various kinds of humor during the interview. They were having great fun with me. Most likely, the faculty wanted to “shake me up” somehow. I don’t know why, by whose indication I don’t know, but I kept answering all their questions one by one with a very cool head and a smile that day. They interviewed me in English on various diverse topics, starting from describing the entire day’s events and the preceding Facebook incidents to many other subjects. (Of course, at IBA there’s absolutely no opportunity to give interviews in Bengali.) Why I wanted to pursue an MBA, why IBA if I was going to take government job exams anyway, my weaknesses, whether I’d ever been in love, how I spend my leisure time, some conversation about reading books, various economic issues of Bangladesh, some personal and family matters, my future plans, the breathless motorcycle journey from A to Z, the BCS examination system, why I went into engineering despite having no interest, why I delayed my honors degree, why I didn’t study properly, why my CGPA was so low, what I like to eat, what kind of personality I prefer in people, what I know about IBA, some current affairs, and several other questions. I was answering very quickly in correct English. The faculty praised this too. I gave a very simple, straightforward, and candid interview. I didn’t speak a single false word that day.

I didn’t need to think before speaking—whatever came to mind, I simply said, so there was no chance to fabricate lies. At the end, they asked me to sing a song. When I said, “I can’t, Sir,” Babu Sir showed me my info-form and laughed, saying, “But you’ve claimed so.” I had written Reading, Writing, Singing in the hobbies section… At that moment, it felt like I was living the best day of my life. I sang, “Aaj ei dintake…” “I see, we’re getting a singer for our cultural program!” As Saiful Majid Sir was saying this, Babu Sir interjected, “Sir, he has another exam tomorrow. He’ll probably be flying back to Chittagong tonight.” Then three or four teachers exclaimed in unison, “What! He’s going back to Chittagong right now? Well then, run along, run along! Go downstairs and see if your superman biker is there! Hahahaha…” As I was leaving with my salaam, the teachers called out, “Best of luck for your tomorrow’s exam.” I kept thinking, again and again—I’ll make it, I’ll make it! (Even after giving the BCS viva, I didn’t feel this good.)

When I stepped out of IBA, it was half past seven on the clock. I knew there was no way I could catch the 7:45 flight. I also knew that I had no idea how I would get to Chittagong that night. I didn’t even feel like thinking about it. Only the exhilarating rush of having given a good exam was coursing through me. Pappu and Arefin had been waiting for me at Madhu’s canteen. Taking them along, I went to the front of Dhaka University’s Central Library and leisurely began eating vegetable pakoras and tea. Many of my students studied in various departments at Dhaka University. Quite a few came to see me. They were asking what questions had been asked in the interview. After a day of incredible experiences, my head had become almost entirely empty. I couldn’t understand why I wasn’t feeling the slightest urgency to return to Chittagong. Pappu asked, “Brother, will you take the night bus?” I said, “Yes, that could work.” (It amuses me now to think how casually I had said ‘that could work’!) The road conditions weren’t good then either, there were always traffic jams. It didn’t even occur to me—what would happen if I couldn’t reach by 10 AM tomorrow? Ripon, a dear younger brother who lived in Chittagong and was one of my former students, said, “Brother, I have a non-AC train ticket; for Turna Nishitha, leaving tonight. It doesn’t matter if I don’t go to Chittagong today. Brother, you take it.” “Alright, fine,” I said, took the ticket, and set off toward Kamalapur Station. That night the train left nearly an hour and a half late. I didn’t even want to think about what was going to happen! I had already surrendered myself to fate long before. In my mind I kept repeating only this: whatever will be, will be. Whether I want it or not, it will happen. And whatever is happening is surely for the good; whatever will happen will surely be for the good too. Let’s see! After the day’s exhaustion, I had a very peaceful sleep. Suddenly I woke up hearing commotion around me. The train had stopped at Comilla. Apparently there was some problem with the line. We were delayed there for nearly two and a quarter hours. I couldn’t understand why I wasn’t feeling any kind of anxiety! I fell asleep again. Sleep is the world’s only faithful lover. Whenever I want it, I find it near. Never, under any circumstances, does it abandon me. There can be no purer love than the love for sleep.

When the train reached Chittagong railway station the next day, it was a quarter to ten in the morning. My exam was scheduled to start at ten. It takes only fifteen minutes to get from the station to my house. When I got home, I found my mother sitting there with everything ready in her hands—my pencil box, board, scale, pen, calculator, admit card, registration card, all of it. My parents had been terribly anxious at home. I hadn’t been able to speak to them since after half past one at night. My mobile had run out of charge. (I was using a cheap Nokia 1100 mobile set back then. Everyone called it the “national set”! It was so sturdy that many would joke, “Dude, you could crack jackfruit with that phone!” I’d tease my friends who used expensive mobiles, saying, “My phone’s model is ‘N Eleven Zero Zero’!”) As soon as my mother saw me, she said, “Dear, how are you? Will you take today’s exam?” I felt emotionally numb. It seemed as though I was lighter than a feather at that moment, floating around in some kind of trance! I smiled and said, “Ma, I’m perfectly fine. I’ll take the exam.” Saying this, I took the packed shopping bag from my mother’s hands and left the house just as I was. It was 10:05 on the clock. From our house to the exam center, it takes at least thirty minutes by CNG during office hours. When I reached the college gate, it was 10:43. That day was the mathematical reasoning and mental ability test. The first two hours were mathematical reasoning, followed by one hour of mental ability. The exam had already started forty-three minutes earlier. Naturally, the police wouldn’t let me enter. I pleaded extensively, kept trying futilely to explain what had happened, but they weren’t willing to listen to anything. But I had made up my mind—I wasn’t going to turn back, I would get inside no matter what. A small commotion started gathering there. Seeing the crowd, the magistrate came over. After hearing my entire story, he said, “You only have one hour left. Can you finish all the math problems in this time?” Without a moment’s hesitation, I said, “I can, sir!” “Alright, go ahead. Good luck!” My heart overflowed with gratitude toward him. At that moment, he seemed to me not human, but divine! I went in, looked at the questions, took the exam. I even showed three problems to the person sitting next to me. (He got a job in Audit and Accounts in the 30th batch.) I scored 98 on that day’s exam—50 in math, 48 in mental ability. After that… well, as everyone says—the rest is history!

But this much is true: had that day’s exam been something other than mathematics, I would have been in real trouble. I can handle math because the type of problems that appeared in the BCS written exam back then weren’t particularly difficult for me to solve. Such problems don’t strain the mind much, and the 30th BCS written exam featured relatively easy math. Even if I worked through each step carefully and added side notes, it shouldn’t have taken more than half an hour. It didn’t for me either. However, spending two and a half hours on the International Affairs exam the day before had been risky. Actually, no matter how incredible the whole affair might seem, everything appears to have been predetermined by the Creator or nature itself. What remains inexplicable to our limited understanding is simply a natural, ordinary occurrence for the Creator. All our failures and successes are already decided beforehand. But to reach that point, the effort—or making the right decision at the right time—that we must do ourselves. I wasn’t even supposed to pass my undergraduate degree. Yet it was my destiny to complete my undergraduate studies, become a BCS cadre, study at IBA—all of it was written in my fate. Had my destiny been bound elsewhere, I would have gone there instead. I had enrolled in another master’s program under Dhaka University—MDS. After continuing that course for three months, I left it of my own accord. They had said I would need to officially hide the fact that I was simultaneously pursuing another master’s at IBA. I refused to lie. I harbor no regret about this, though. I’ve accepted that pursuing that particular master’s degree simply wasn’t written in my destiny. This is the truth, this is reality. I had gained admission to Dhaka University’s Evening MBA program in Finance, ranking sixth on the merit list, but never had to attend classes there. I received my IBA admission test results before that. I did complete my master’s in Finance from Dhaka University, but the Evening MBA program wasn’t destined for me, so I didn’t pursue my master’s degree from there.

Stepping into two boats in the middle of a river ensures certain death. Logic dictates this. But I placed my feet in two boats, taking the maximum risk—I had no other choice—yet both boats moved forward in parallel at the same speed at the same time, so I didn’t slip between them and lose my life. What explanation could there be for this? Life doesn’t follow logic; life follows the Creator’s signals. Life doesn’t always operate according to explanations. Sometimes life moves on faith. So there’s nothing to say about anyone’s personal philosophy and the life they live according to their beliefs, as long as that life doesn’t interfere with someone else’s way of living. Somewhere, no explicable form of life can be seen, and life is just like this!

Through sheer mental strength alone, I had believed that some miracle would surely occur. It did happen, because in Providence’s master plan, that’s what was meant to happen. Everything in between was the Creator’s games or plans to test my patience and concentration. You will never be given a gift you don’t deserve. You will be tested, and if you fail to pass that test, you will deprive yourself of the Creator’s grace through your own fault. I’m sharing with you the Facebook status I posted after the IBA admission test results came out, along with a couple of my own comments on it:

Friends, I’ve been finally selected for admission into the MBA Program of IBA, Dhaka University. …… feeling happy. ……. HATS OFF to Sharmeen didi, Ira madam & Romel bhai!!

# My dear friends….. Your gorgeous presence on my wall makes me think twice about the POWER of friendship & the MAGIC of love. YES……… They matter!! I just want to be with you forever. Please never say GOODBYE…. It hurts!! Your kindness and care mean a lot to me. You’ve always given me much more than I really deserve. Please accept my sincere GRATITUDE.

Happy Social Networking!!

Long live Facebook!!

My best wishes for our Friendship!!

……… Love you all ……

# (To one of my close friends) Dost, not reaching the Interview Session on 17 January at 5:30 pm was what I thought to be….. reaching there in time was what was written in my DESTINY….. And, I ended up calling it a MIRACLE, something I never believed in before…… Just have a look at the schedule of 17 January……

International Affairs Exam (BCS written exam)…. 10:00 am — 1:00 pm

The departure time of the GMG Airlines: 3:20 pm, there was a delay of about 1 hour due to fog and I availed another delayed flight of Bangladesh Biman at 4:37 pm.

The plane landed on Dhaka Airport at 5:13 pm and then I started my fight against time to meet the deadline by bike with Romel bhai!! Who managed those three saviours (Sharmeen didi, Ira madam & Romel bhai) for me? I don’t know. You better ask the Heaven! I saw such a breath-taking motor-bike driving only in English movies. Before that day, I had never thought I would experience it!!

Life is sometimes stranger than fiction . . . . Who can tell it better than I?

# (To one of my senior high-profile Indian friends) Thank you Sir for your words of felicitation. IBA of Dhaka University is considered as the most prestigious institute for doing MBA in Bangladesh. As per the rules of that Business School, the Major/Field of Specialization is allowed to be chosen at the final semester judging the academic records & intention of a candidate. I don’t have much idea about what to choose and why to choose. Please share some ideas on it as you’ve huge practical knowledge (so far as I know) about the present corporate trend.

You’ve nicely stated the trend of our careerist B-school graduates. No one really cares about their own aptitude, rather, tries to be what market wants them to be. Personally, I always like the decision-making and mainstream operational sections of giant companies. And, probably I’ll go for finance as my major when I’ve to choose it in my final semester. Yes, my semester results must be well enough to work on my advantage. That’ll be a story of one and a half years later. Till then, I’ll have to undergo the generalized curriculum as my B-school formulates. The recent economic recession worries our friends studying at the US universities. And, almost all of them suggest me not to plan of staying there. But at the same time, they suggest me completing my PhD in the US if I want to and grab that opportunity. Let’s wait and see. . . . . Are you in India now? Hope you’re quite OK along with your busy schedule. Please, sometimes give me your valuable suggestions when you’ve time and you’re here on Facebook. . . . . Thank you once again for your helpful advice. Take care.

In explaining the final part of the status shared above, I had written these words:

Let me share the Story behind the Story and elucidate the last part of my status. It would have been quite impossible for me to reach Dhaka University from Dhaka International Airport within just 50 minutes (!!) to attend the interview session of IBA in time on Jan 17, but for the cordial help of Sharmeen didi (Sharmeen Muiz) & Ira madam (Johora Bebe Ira). They’re the persons who made that miracle happen!! And, Romel bhai (Monirul Alam Romel) is the “Man with the Bike” who dared fight against time to meet the deadline!! ……. I feel honoured to express my heartfelt gratitude to these three saviours. …….. Miracles Happen When You Believe!!

I conclude this piece with a beautifully strange comment Sharmeen didi made on that status: “My prayers, good wishes, and prayers remain with you. Dear brother of mine, may you grow to great heights. And may the successful reflection of our efforts (Ira’s and mine) shine through in everything you do. I was there, I am here, I will be there. …….. Heaps of hugs and love.”

What sustains a human being? We live on love, on prayers, on good wishes. These are what keep me alive—quite well alive, in fact. My gratitude!

P.S. Let me offer you some practical wisdom. Those who think they know too much, who consider themselves supremely intelligent, who speak in grand terms without any real qualifications or notable position, who try to diminish others even through outright lies, who pontificate without knowledge, who speak to you in such a manner that you begin to doubt your own confidence—I would advise you to absolutely, absolutely, and absolutely avoid such people. They themselves cannot go very far in life, nor will they allow you to go very far either.

(Written 2-3 years ago)

I thought, why should I surrender before I’ve even lost? I’ll see this through to the end. At home, my parents were also saying, “Give up one of them.” My heart was telling me, “I won’t give up, not for anything!” Let me gamble with life this once and see what happens! You have to listen to your heart. I called the MBA Program Office. Zakir bhai was in charge there. He said, “IBA’s schedule doesn’t change for anyone. You change your schedule.” I said, “That’s not possible. You have several slots. BCS has only one.” Even after that he said, “It’s not possible in any way. We’re sorry!” Saying this, he hung up the phone, and my stubbornness only grew stronger. I put aside studying for the next day’s exam. After some inquiries, I learned that Rahi Sir was the Program Chairman for IBA’s MBA at the time. Only he could change my interview slot if he wanted to. Rahi Sir is an incredibly fierce person. IBA’s Marketing Department is the best in Bangladesh. Rahi Sir is the best faculty in that department. I got his number. The person I got the number from asked, “Are you really going to call Rahi Sir?” “Yes. Why?” “We students never dare to call Sir. And you’re going to call him for this?” “I will. I have to. My back is against the wall.” “God bless you, man! You better think twice.” I said, “Sometimes life doesn’t give you the opportunity to think twice. It’s the first and the only chance! I must grab it before it’s too late! I will call him. I’ll make my attempt—if it works, it works; if not, so be it. If I don’t try, it definitely won’t work. Thank you, bhai!” Right after finishing that conversation, without any second thoughts, I called Rahi Sir. A man with an extremely serious voice. It’s frightening just to speak with him. But I have nothing left to lose. I only know this: I passed IBA’s written exam and IBA has to conduct my interview. I had truly become reckless. I blurted out my entire problem in one breath. Rahi Sir said, “You silly kid! You’ve dared to call Rahi Sir for this! Did you think I am your friend? It’s not my business whether you can attend the viva board or not. You have only 2 choices: Leave IBA, or, Leave BCS.” To my infinite amazement, I heard myself saying, “Sir, I have called you to hear about the third choice. If you don’t have that, please make it for me. I know I’ll be at IBA.” Sir said very loudly over the phone, “You are a stupid little boy. You just know nothing about the things here! Don’t waste my time. I am busy!” “Sir, please give me a chance. I am………” I couldn’t make him hear any more—he hung up before that. I couldn’t understand what had happened, only felt an even stronger desire to believe that I would definitely study at IBA. BCS seemed to fade for a moment. Whatever happens in tomorrow’s exam will happen. Right now I need to sort out the IBA situation first. I called the program office again.

I asked, “When can I actually meet Rahi sir?” “What do you mean?” “Sir told me to come see him.” “Ask sir himself when you can actually meet him.” (I mustered the courage to lie….) “Sir said to call the program office and find out.” “He told you to ask us? Really! Alright, stay on the line, let me check sir’s class schedule.” Zakir bhai informed me that if I came next Friday evening, I could meet sir. Saying “thank you very much,” I hung up the phone and immediately left home to buy a bus ticket. From near Gariullah Shah’s shrine in Chittagong, I bought a ticket on Unique’s non-AC bus to Dhaka for Thursday night. The next day, under tremendous mental pressure, I took my Bangladesh Studies Paper 1 exam. Even in the exam hall, my mind kept racing: “Will Rahi sir keep his word?” In my answer sheet, I mistakenly wrote the word “Rahi” several times, though I crossed it out later.

I arrived at IBA before afternoon on Friday. I stood waiting in front of the MBA Program Office. Zakir bhai wasn’t there at the time—he came in the evening, two hours later. I went up and introduced myself. “Oh, I see, you’ve come from Chittagong. Rahi sir mentioned he would speak with you about changing your interview schedule? Really??” “Yes, he told me to come see him!” We were talking when Rahi sir arrived shortly after. He went straight through the program office into his room. A dignified man of serious disposition. His office was right next to the program office. Zakir bhai said, “Please sit on the sofa. Let me ask sir if he’s free right now.” When he told sir, “Someone named Sushanta Pal has come from Chittagong to see you—you had asked him to come,” sir immediately shouted quite loudly, “I didn’t ask anyone to come see me! Tell him to leave. Disgusting!” Zakir bhai told me, “Sir won’t see you. You should go.” “I’ll leave, but only after meeting with sir. Brother, I haven’t come here to turn back. I must see him.” Almost forcefully, I entered sir’s room without permission. After I said very politely, “Assalamu alaikum, sir,” he returned the greeting and said, “What do you want?” There were several other students in the room who had come to sir for various matters. “Sir, I called you the day before yesterday evening.” “Is it my duty to remember your call? Get out!” I said nothing and stood there with my head bowed. The words “Get out!” didn’t register in my mind. At that moment, I only knew that I would speak with Rahi sir about changing the schedule, and sir would surely agree to do so. After standing like this for nearly half an hour, sir said, “Why are you standing here like a statue?” I fearfully placed an application about changing the time slot on sir’s desk and began to say, “Sir, the day before yesterday I spoke with you on the phone…” “Speak in the language I am using now.” “Sir, my interview has been scheduled for next Monday at 10 in the morning. I am appearing for the 30th BCS written exam. I have an exam at the same time. So, I request you to shift my schedule to another convenient time slot.” “Sorry, we cannot.” “Please Sir! Otherwise, my dream to be here will be shattered.” “Let it be. Just go for BCS. You will do better being a civil servant.” “But Sir, it’s uncertain.” “Is being here certain for you?” “No Sir, that’s why I cannot leave any of these 2 opportunities. Please Sir, give me a chance. Do me a favour. I will be ever grateful, Sir.” “What time is your exam?” “10 o’clock, sir.” “How long?” “Three hours, sir.” “Okay fine, come straight here after your exam. Can you make it by 1:30?” I realized sir had forgotten that I’d come from Chittagong. “Sir, I’m taking the exam from Chittagong.” “Stupid! We cannot change our schedule for you! Are you Mr President?” “No Sir, I just want to be your student! I will do anything you tell me to do. Please give me a chance, Sir!” “Look, brother, you won’t be able to finish your exam at 1 o’clock and come from Chittagong to take the interview anyway.

You won’t make it even if you leave at 10 PM. The roads are in terrible condition, there’s heavy traffic.” “Sir, I can come in the evening.” “How? By plane?” “Yes, sir. Please give me a chance, sir.” “Alright. Don’t you have an exam the next day?” “I do, sir. I can manage. I’ll buy a return ticket.” “What time can you arrive?” “Whatever you say, sir.” “Your exam will end at 1 PM. Hmm… okay, can you make it to the 3 o’clock board?” “Yes sir, I can be there at 3.” “Do you know if there are flights at that time?” “I don’t know, sir. I’ll find out.” “I think there’s a flight around 3.” “What time can you arrive?” “4 o’clock, sir?” “Foolish boy! Your brain isn’t working. How can you take a 3 o’clock flight from Chittagong and get from the airport to IBA by 4? You have no idea about Dhaka city. Okay, you come by 5:15 sharp. You will be last person in that board. If you come after that, nothing can be done. The evening board is for Executive MBA. It won’t be possible to hold your viva there. Okay?” “Thank you, sir.” “Youngman, you have decided to play with your life! Best of luck!” “Please pray for me, sir. I can do this!” Tears came to my eyes. I realized that though this man appeared stern on the outside, he was very gentle within. I offered many prayers for the sir and left IBA. I went to Aziz and bought some books. Then I went to Fakirapul and took the 10 PM non-AC bus from Unique, reaching Chittagong in the morning.

I’m sharing the application with you:

15 January 2011

The Program Director, MBA Program

Institute of Business Administration

University of Dhaka

Dhaka

Subject: Prayer for changing the time slot of the interview schedule of the MBA Program Admission

Sir,

This letter expresses my earnest request to change my interview schedule of the MBA Program Admission 2010-2011. I am a candidate for Full-Time Course, my admit number is 2745 and I am on Interview Board 6 scheduled to be conducted at the 10:00 am to 1:00 pm time slot on January 17, 2011. I am appearing at the 30th BCS written examination and my Examination Centre is at Chittagong. I have an examination on January 17, 2011, coincided with the same time slot of the interview and so it is not possible for me to come from Chittagong and attend the interview at 10:00 am.

I will be highly obliged if you kindly permit me to attend the interview at the 6:00 pm to 8:30 pm time slot scheduled for Evening Board 3 and Evening Board 4 on January 17, 2011.

Yours faithfully

Sushanta Paul

I had never been on a plane before. I thought that wherever you go, you need a passport to fly. My elder brother called a friend who works with passport services and asked what documents are needed for an emergency passport to Dhaka. He burst out laughing! He said, “Buddy, what do you need a passport for? A plane and a bus are the same thing. One flies in the sky, the other runs on the road. That’s all there is to it! Just go buy a ticket. That’s it! Which one is good? You can go with GMG. That’s pretty good.” I didn’t know that you don’t have to rush to the airport to buy a plane ticket. I had no idea how much tickets cost. Getting off the bus in the morning, I went straight to a Dutch-Bangla Bank booth and withdrew ten thousand taka. Then I jumped into a CNG and rushed to the airport. I bought a ticket from the GMG Airlines counter for the 3:20 flight on Monday, the 17th. That was the first Chittagong-Dhaka flight of the afternoon. I booked a return ticket for the same day on the 7:45 evening flight. I felt like I could see it right before my eyes—me attending classes at IBA! Such a strange vision! I returned home with a victorious smile, almost as if I had already gotten into IBA! At night, I tried to prepare from various guides and the internet about what they might ask in the IBA interview. I studied for about 4-5 hours. At the same time, I posted a status on Facebook: How much time does it take to reach Dhaka University from Dhaka International Airport? Is it possible to reach in 40 minutes? Friends, any suggestion, please? I was truly a very simple person back then. I saw the world in very simple terms. Since I hadn’t visited Dhaka much, I didn’t know that in 2011 it wasn’t possible to get from the airport to Shahbag in 40 minutes. Everyone was saying it would take a minimum of two hours to get from the airport to the university campus in the afternoon. All sorts of bizarre comments came in reply to my status. Many started making fun of me. I’ll share some of my friends’ suggestions: “It’s possible if you run.” “It would be great if you jogged to the university. You’d get your evening exercise too!” “You shouldn’t have bought that plane ticket! With that money, if you had thrown us a party, we all would have prayed together and your BCS would have worked out! Hahahaha…..” “Young man! You’re young, just run as soon as you get off the plane! You’ll see, you’ll reach before time!” “Listen, such-and-such bus runs on such-and-such route. Hanging and sleeping, you’ll reach IBA just fine!” I got many such absurd comments. I knew absolutely nothing about Dhaka then. When you’re in trouble, doesn’t everyone have to give you a kick? It began to feel like that’s just how life is! People can’t extend a hand to pull you up, but they can certainly extend a foot to kick you down! Without getting the least bit discouraged by anyone’s words, I kept waiting to see if someone would give some good advice. I didn’t react to anyone’s reply that day. How helplessly calm a person becomes when in trouble. All I knew was this: “I’m giving my IBA interview on the 17th.” One person wrote, “You can go by bike. There’s no faster way to reach the university campus.” Some people even supported that idea. A few mentioned taxi cabs. Support was strongest for the bike option. Up until then, I had ridden a bike maybe 2-3 times in my entire life, counting generously. I didn’t really know anyone in Dhaka who had a bike, or if I did know someone, my mind wasn’t working at all then. Sometimes I think now, alas!

I couldn’t even afford to manage a bike at that time. I wrote, “My flight is scheduled to land at Dhaka Airport at 4.10 pm on 17 January. I must reach Dhaka University at or before 5.15 pm. I’ve an interview at IBA at that time. . . . Can’t I do it? Is it not possible? I need to do it at any cost. As I don’t know about the routes of Dhaka City, I’m asking for your help. Dhaka City is an unknown city to me. Can a taxi cab help me reach there in 1 hour? I can’t be late, otherwise I’ll miss the interview schedule. I’ve managed that schedule today through an application. . . Can a bike be a better solution? Or, something else? I’m in great trouble. . . .” After posting this, the mocking and laughter began all over again. I replied to the distinguished gentleman (one of Bangladesh’s most successful businessmen) who had advised me to jog there: “Thank you Sir for you ‘jogging’ suggestion. I was also seriously thinking of this option. Yes, I’ll surely manage to reach in time by vehicles, on foot, again by vehicles, again on foot . . . . And, I’ll go. I’ll be there in time by any means.” Someone said, “Change the schedule once more.” I wrote, “The schedule can’t be changed! Hopefully, there will happen some miracle and I’ll manage to avail the schedule in time.” A younger brother wrote, “Brother, you should go by taxi-cab. But you could try the bus once. Dhaka buses run quite well!” I replied, “Brother, I’m not surely making any attempt of getting on a bus! That’ll be horrible, you know. I was just seeking for a suggestion as I don’t know about the route. Thanks for the suggestion. I think a CNG powered taxi can help me in this regard. A taxi-cab is prone to getting stuck up in the congestion forever. A bike could be a better solution. But, I can’t manage it.”

Mrs. Zohra, whose name was Ira—an extremely distinguished lady—commented, “You need a bike?” “That would be wonderful.” “Alright, let me see what I can do.” She was the Deputy Managing Director of ONE Bank. After completing her studies in Chemistry from Chittagong University, she had done her MBA from IBA. She worked in the corporate sector, but there were very few people who didn’t know her. I have a sister. Her name is Sharmin Muiz Khan. At that time, she was one of those rare souls who loved someone as insignificant as me far more than necessary, showered me with affection for no particular reason. She was almost my mother’s age, but I addressed her as ‘tumi’ and she called me ‘tui’. She had studied English Literature at Dhaka University. She particularly loved my writing. She was a business magnate and had connections with many prominent people. I have rarely seen a lady as distinguished, refined, elegant, and utterly graceful as her. She commented, “Bappi, someone needs to grab you and give you a good thrashing. Are you enjoying confusing everyone by calling them all the time? Please stop wasting your time browsing Facebook and concentrate on tomorrow’s exam. Otherwise, you’re calling for another disaster. There is a saying: ‘Que sera, sera’ meaning: Whatever will be, will be. So, pray and try your best. I have given this opinion after a lot of serious thoughts. Please follow it. You will leave here right now. I don’t want to see you making even one more comment! MIRACLES HAPPEN IF YOU BELIEVE IN YOURSELF!” I replied, “Didi, things are that they’re. Things will be that they will be. And, between this two there lie some miracles that we’re never aware of. And, miracles are often stranger than facts. Facts are because they’re. Miracles are because we or someone else wants them to be. That’s the truth!” She called Mrs. Zohra. She said, “Look Ira, my brother has gotten into a bit of trouble. The poor thing is a simple soul, we should do something for him. Can’t you arrange a bike for him?” A little while later, I saw a message from Mrs. Zohra in my inbox: “Please give me your contact number. Regards” I gave it immediately. The call came within seconds. After introducing herself, she said, “You need a bike Monday at 4 PM, right?” “That would be wonderful.” “OK, a bike will be there for you at 4. My colleague Romel will pick you. Alright?” “I am truly, truly grateful. Thank you so very much!” “Let’s get the work done first, then you can thank me. I’m texting you Romel’s number. Take care.” She hung up immediately. I wrote to her: “Life is stranger than fiction, I repeat. From myself, I’ve got much less than I truly deserve. From others, I’ve got much more than I truly deserve. Is it the thing that they call miracle? I don’t know and never try to know. I let miracles happen and thankfully they always happen . . . . . . . Thank you for your generous approach. This really means a lot to me.” I wrote my piece. I don’t know if she ever read it or had the time to read it. Noble souls don’t wait for thanks. Besides, she was truly, truly busy.

He was the head of the credit section at One Bank. He had no reason to know a nobody like me, yet he knew me through my writing. Otherwise, I would never have had the privilege of speaking with him directly. And the fact that Sharmin didi had spoken to him about me—that was a big deal too. The next day was the Bangladesh Affairs Paper 2 exam. I went to sleep without studying any of it. The day after, straight from the exam hall, I went to the Westex showroom at Probortak intersection. My life’s first interview. I was incredibly excited! I had decided I’d go to the interview board wearing everything brand new. I bought a formal white shirt, black pants, black tie, black belt, black socks, white undershirt, and brown shoes. Later, from Gallery Apex I bought formal Oxford shoes, and from Time Zone a Titan wristwatch, then returned home in the evening. Seeing my antics, Ma was laughing. “Ma, why are you laughing?” “Just because, dear.” The funny thing was, Ma went with me to the exam hall every single day. She always kept me close, just like a child. Ma said, “Tomorrow I’m going to the airport with you.” And she did go—despite my protests.

Monday, the 17th. International Affairs exam. I couldn’t stay in the exam hall for the entire time due to nerves. I don’t have a car, what if the CNG takes too long to reach the airport! What if I miss the flight! The flight was at 3:20. And it takes at least 2 hours to reach the airport from Omar Gani MES College by 1 PM. Our written exam had been during winter. In the bitter cold, my fingers would freeze. Still, I kept rubbing my palms together to warm them, blowing hot breath into the hollow of my cupped hands, and wrote with all my strength. Instead of 1 o’clock, I finished the exam at 12:30, submitted my paper, and rushed out. When I emerged from the hall and reached the gate, everyone thought I must have been expelled! The intense stress was clearly written all over my face. Many showed me sympathy, told me not to worry, advised me to do better in the next BCS. I didn’t have time to respond. What could I say anyway—at that moment, life itself was one giant question mark for me! I don’t know what strength possessed my mother. She ran almost twice as fast as me, covering the distance from the college campus to the road. We got into a CNG without bargaining, paying nearly one and a half times the normal fare. I told the driver, “However you manage it, get us to the airport within two hours. If necessary, I’ll pay you extra.” It was 12:50 on the clock. The CNG started speeding. Mother opened the tiffin box and fed me khichuri, meat, and fried egg. One thought kept spinning in my head: “Will I catch the plane? If we get stuck in traffic, it’s all over!” I took off my sweater. I had left home that morning wearing my viva outfit, everything except the tie. After escaping two minor traffic jams, when we reached the airport, it was 5 minutes to 3. As soon as I got down, I touched my mother’s and aunt’s feet in respect (a distant aunt had come with us since mother couldn’t return home from the airport alone) and ran to the counter. There I learned that the flight was delayed by an hour due to dense fog. I thought, if the plane leaves at that time, there’s no way I can reach IBA by 5:15. I informed the counter staff about this. They said there was nothing they could do; they were very sorry. I inquired and learned that no other flights were departing at that time either. At that moment, I felt utterly helpless, just wanting to cry. I felt like I had no one, no one at all! I kept going from counter to counter. I found out there was a Bangladesh Biman flight departing at 3:45. There was no other flight before that. It was a bigger plane, taking 30 minutes to reach, whereas other planes take at least 40 minutes. Meaning, I would reach Dhaka airport by 4:15! I bought the ticket right then. There was great hope in my heart—if this one leaves on time, there’s nothing more to worry about. I went to the airport restroom and quickly put on my tie. I adjusted my shirt once more. Looking in the mirror, I fixed my hair with my hand. The clock hand crossed 4 after passing 3:45. The plane was delayed due to fog. We all boarded the plane at 4:15. It was my first time on a plane. I kept thinking, when will it take off, when will it take off! Every second felt like an hour! The tension was making it hard to breathe, yet the plane wouldn’t take off. I thought, oh! If only I could spend all my strength to make this plane soar into the sky! I pressed my handkerchief over my eyes to hide my tears. Finally, the plane took off. It was 4:37 on the clock. I was thinking, oh!

The plane could have taken off directly without taxiing! At least a couple of minutes would have been saved! The plane landed on Dhaka’s runway at 5:13.

I burst out of the domestic terminal running with all my might, and gasping for breath, I saw a motorcycle come to a stop right in front of me. “You’re Sushanta, right? Get on the back!” I extended my hand to shake hands with the young man in the black helmet. He didn’t raise his black-gloved right fist for a handshake. “Time’s wasting, brother! Please get on! Quick!” I didn’t argue further. “You’re not used to riding bikes, are you?” “Yes. How did you know?” “Brother, I’ve been riding bikes for the past 18-20 years. I can tell.” “I see.” “Lean forward and press your chest firmly against my back! You can even wrap your arms around me, otherwise you’ll get thrown off. For sure! I’m going to ride fast.” The way that bike tore out of the airport—I don’t have the courage to even think about it today. Under normal circumstances, I might have screamed in fear and told him to stop, or I really would have been thrown off. But at that moment I knew that being afraid was important, but far more important was reaching IBA alive. I don’t know if the wheels of that 150cc bike actually touched the ground that day, but for the second time in my life I understood this truth: you cannot frighten someone who stakes their life to touch their dreams. I had only seen bikes racing so recklessly on the roads in movies. The bike was literally cutting through the whooshing sound of wind, as if flying through the air! “Say brother, are you somebody really important?” “What do you mean?” “Well, Madam told me that one of her very important friends had to be delivered from the airport to IBA within half an hour, no matter what. That was her order! Who are you, brother? Hahahaha………” “I’m Madam’s Facebook friend.” “What are you saying, man? How’s that possible! I was thinking even more… you mean you’ve never even met her?” “No, brother. Why?” (There’s a railway crossing ahead. The barrier is coming down.) “Brother, duck your head a little.” Saying this, he quickly rode the bike under the barrier without obeying the signal. Many people behind us were shouting for us to stop. “Brother, just don’t be afraid. Nothing will happen. You can close your eyes if you want.” Right at that moment, while quickly emerging from between two trucks standing side by side, he said, “Sit a bit smaller, brother!” A little further ahead—massive traffic jam at a signal! Romel bhai lifted the bike onto the sidewalk. “Brother, please give way a little, give way a little,” he kept saying as he raced forward. He had to do this several times. Sometimes when riding on the central divider in the middle of the road, traffic police would catch us, and he’d say in a tearful voice, “Sir, my aunt is fighting for her life in the medical college. I’m going to donate blood. O-negative blood—we can’t find any. If I don’t reach on time, we won’t be able to save my aunt, sir!” He’d manage the police with this story and then race off at the same speed again! Whenever there was a traffic jam on the road, he’d immediately change to another road. That day I learned that when obstacles appear on the road, it doesn’t mean there is no road. Rather, it means you have to take a different road! Right now!! I had only seen such daredevil biking in Hollywood action movies. Looking at my hair in the bike’s mirror, it seemed as if it had stood up straight after an electric shock! My face was covered with dust from the city. In the fierce wind, my tie was flying behind me in the air. I don’t know if anyone has ever seen a bike race so recklessly through Dhaka’s roads during rush hour. But for some reason, I truly wasn’t afraid at all. I kept thinking over and over, “How quickly can one reach IBA!” Romel bhai had finished his honors and master’s from Dhaka College before joining the bank. I had asked him, “What’s your designation at the bank?” He had joked, “Not much, just 14 more promotions and I’ll be able to sit in Zohra Madam’s chair. Hahaha…….”

When I arrived in front of IBA, my watch showed 5:52. As I got down, I saw my younger brother Pappu and his friend Arefin standing there. At that time, I had my gift shop ‘Dobhana.’ Pappu and Arefin were my working partners. They often came to Dhaka from Chawk Bazaar in Old Dhaka to buy wholesale goods for the shop. I had withdrawn myself from the shop to focus on my BCS exam preparation. They ran everything. They were already in Dhaka on shop business. I had told them to go to the IBA MBA program office and keep me updated by phone about the viva board situation. Through repeated conversations with them, I was checking whether the interview board was still there, asking them to go to the program office and explain that I couldn’t arrive on time due to flight delays, terrible traffic jams, and so on. As soon as I got down, they informed me, “Bhaiya, the board left 4-5 minutes ago. Now only the Executive MBA viva remains.” After introducing them to Romel bhai, I rushed up to the MBA program office on the second floor. As soon as they saw me, everyone there stopped their work and looked at me. I saw Rahi Sir busy with something; he didn’t respond to my greeting. “Sir, I’m very late. Despite trying hard, I couldn’t arrive on time. I…” Without giving me a chance to say anything more, he shouted, “You Idiot! Get out!” “Sir, I…” “I said, Get out! Out! Out!! I knew very well that you wouldn’t be able to come on time. Is it possible to take one exam in Chittagong and then come to Dhaka for another exam? That easy? You’ve just wasted my time! I had told everyone that a boy from Chittagong would come at 5:15, and we needed to take his viva. Did you think I am a joker?” “Sir, I came here with great difficulty. The flight was delayed, there was heavy traffic on the road. I really…” “It’s none of my business! Get out! Go back where you came from.” “Sir, I had many dreams of studying at IBA.” “Everyone on the street has such dreams. I gave you a chance but you missed it. That’s all! Get out of here.” “Sir, please have some mercy…” (I felt like falling at his feet and crying…) Right beside him sat a gentle-looking gentleman much younger than the sir. He said, “Sir, I’ve heard about him. His younger brother kept coming to our program office. They had been standing in front of the office for hours. His flight was indeed delayed. And there’s heavy traffic in Dhaka today too. A friend of mine came to my room from the airport a while ago; it took him a long time to get here too. Give him a chance, Sir. He’s come so far, taking such risks with great difficulty! He apparently has another written exam tomorrow too. The poor fellow has to return to Chittagong today itself.” “Son, you junior faculty members don’t even know what you’re saying, what kind of requests you make. Why are you pleading for him? Is he your relative or something?” “No no Sir, I’m seeing him for the first time today. Just look at his face once, Sir. He’s really come here with great difficulty. Please do him a favor, Sir.” “You have no idea what you are talking about! Will the Executive MBA viva be the same as theirs? They have 3 years of job experience, while these are just children in comparison!

“This won’t be possible, brother. I am sorry!” “Sir, please help the poor fellow a bit. He’s come such a long way with so much hope!” “Son, we can’t manage anything more for you!” I stood a little distance away, head bowed. Looking at me, he called out loudly, “Hey, stupid! Why are you standing there like a donkey? Go on, go to the third floor! Go and stand there absolutely quietly. We’ll call you.” I truly couldn’t understand whether such a beautiful moment had ever come anywhere in this world before! Tears began streaming down my face. I prayed again and again from my heart for Babu sir. Rahi sir seemed like a father figure to me. I kept remembering mother’s words: “Never get angry at teachers’ scolding. When teachers scold, it means blessings.” Overwhelmed with emotion, as I was about to leave after thanking and saluting the teachers, Rahi sir called from behind, “Hey crazy boy! Comb your hair before entering the board! Wash your face at the basin! Don’t be so scared! Hahaha…” I couldn’t say anything more. I kept staring blankly at sir’s face. My cheeks were wet with tears from both eyes. Babu sir placed his hand on my shoulder and said, “Go on, go upstairs and wait. We are not that much bad people as you thought us to be. Sometimes even the IBA faculties are too good! Freshen up, give your interview properly, now there’s no tension anymore. What’s your exam tomorrow?” “Sir, Mathematical Reasoning and Mental Ability.” “How will you go?” “Sir, I have a return plane ticket.” “Good! Brother, splash some water on your eyes and face to fix your appearance. Give your viva quickly and rush to the airport! Good luck!” At that moment I felt like touching sir’s feet in salute. People get frightened by sudden intense love. For the first time, it suddenly struck me: “What if I can’t honor this love of my teachers? What if I don’t get a chance at IBA in the end?”

When we find ourselves in trouble, if our intentions are pure, a way out always emerges! I went to the washroom on the third floor and tried my best to “make myself presentable” by wetting my hair and smoothing it down. After splashing water on my face, I went and waited in front of the notice board. I was called after 10 minutes. It was nearly seven o’clock. When I entered the room, I saw many faculty members seated there. I hadn’t known that so many would be present for an interview. I thought this was perhaps how IBA interviews were conducted. I later learned that this entire panel had been assembled just for me. Apart from Babu Sir and Rahi Sir, I didn’t recognize anyone else. After getting admitted, I realized that those present that evening were IBA’s most senior and accomplished faculty members. The board included Saiful Majid Sir, Shama-e-Zahir Sir, Mamun Sir, Munir Khosru Sir, Niaz Sir, and Saif Noman Khan Sir. Most of the junior faculty had finished their interviews and gone home, while some senior faculty were in their offices conducting Executive MBA interviews. Some of them had been specially called in. I was in the interview for about 18-20 minutes. Many of the faculty members knew about my situation that day. I had heard of something called “divine possession” in life. At certain special moments, due to particular external influences or circumstances, people suddenly gain extraordinary power. In those moments, they step outside their normal state and display different behavior. They can harness the utmost potential of their inner infinite strength. In that wondrous balanced fusion of emotion and capability, the best version of themselves emerges. From the moment I entered the interview room, I had very likely become a different person, or perhaps the very best ‘me’ from within had emerged that day. By what divine signal this happened, I don’t know. No hesitation, doubt, nervousness, fear, the day’s exhaustion, or lethargy was affecting me at all. I felt incredibly composed and light as a feather. It felt as though whatever I was saying or doing was the best possible. I was experiencing the finest moment of my life right then and there. I can say with complete honesty that the style in which I spoke English that day—I have never in my entire life, even to this day, been able to speak English so flawlessly and fluently. That day the faculty members engaged in various kinds of humor during the interview. They were having great fun with me. Most likely, the faculty wanted to “shake me up” somehow. I don’t know why, by whose indication I don’t know, but I kept answering all their questions one by one with a very cool head and a smile that day. They interviewed me in English on various diverse topics, starting from describing the entire day’s events and the preceding Facebook incidents to many other subjects. (Of course, at IBA there’s absolutely no opportunity to give interviews in Bengali.) Why I wanted to pursue an MBA, why IBA if I was going to take government job exams anyway, my weaknesses, whether I’d ever been in love, how I spend my leisure time, some conversation about reading books, various economic issues of Bangladesh, some personal and family matters, my future plans, the breathless motorcycle journey from A to Z, the BCS examination system, why I went into engineering despite having no interest, why I delayed my honors degree, why I didn’t study properly, why my CGPA was so low, what I like to eat, what kind of personality I prefer in people, what I know about IBA, some current affairs, and several other questions. I was answering very quickly in correct English. The faculty praised this too. I gave a very simple, straightforward, and candid interview. I didn’t speak a single false word that day.

I didn’t need to think before speaking—whatever came to mind, I simply said, so there was no chance to fabricate lies. At the end, they asked me to sing a song. When I said, “I can’t, Sir,” Babu Sir showed me my info-form and laughed, saying, “But you’ve claimed so.” I had written Reading, Writing, Singing in the hobbies section… At that moment, it felt like I was living the best day of my life. I sang, “Aaj ei dintake…” “I see, we’re getting a singer for our cultural program!” As Saiful Majid Sir was saying this, Babu Sir interjected, “Sir, he has another exam tomorrow. He’ll probably be flying back to Chittagong tonight.” Then three or four teachers exclaimed in unison, “What! He’s going back to Chittagong right now? Well then, run along, run along! Go downstairs and see if your superman biker is there! Hahahaha…” As I was leaving with my salaam, the teachers called out, “Best of luck for your tomorrow’s exam.” I kept thinking, again and again—I’ll make it, I’ll make it! (Even after giving the BCS viva, I didn’t feel this good.)

When I stepped out of IBA, it was half past seven on the clock. I knew there was no way I could catch the 7:45 flight. I also knew that I had no idea how I would get to Chittagong that night. I didn’t even feel like thinking about it. Only the exhilarating rush of having given a good exam was coursing through me. Pappu and Arefin had been waiting for me at Madhu’s canteen. Taking them along, I went to the front of Dhaka University’s Central Library and leisurely began eating vegetable pakoras and tea. Many of my students studied in various departments at Dhaka University. Quite a few came to see me. They were asking what questions had been asked in the interview. After a day of incredible experiences, my head had become almost entirely empty. I couldn’t understand why I wasn’t feeling the slightest urgency to return to Chittagong. Pappu asked, “Brother, will you take the night bus?” I said, “Yes, that could work.” (It amuses me now to think how casually I had said ‘that could work’!) The road conditions weren’t good then either, there were always traffic jams. It didn’t even occur to me—what would happen if I couldn’t reach by 10 AM tomorrow? Ripon, a dear younger brother who lived in Chittagong and was one of my former students, said, “Brother, I have a non-AC train ticket; for Turna Nishitha, leaving tonight. It doesn’t matter if I don’t go to Chittagong today. Brother, you take it.” “Alright, fine,” I said, took the ticket, and set off toward Kamalapur Station. That night the train left nearly an hour and a half late. I didn’t even want to think about what was going to happen! I had already surrendered myself to fate long before. In my mind I kept repeating only this: whatever will be, will be. Whether I want it or not, it will happen. And whatever is happening is surely for the good; whatever will happen will surely be for the good too. Let’s see! After the day’s exhaustion, I had a very peaceful sleep. Suddenly I woke up hearing commotion around me. The train had stopped at Comilla. Apparently there was some problem with the line. We were delayed there for nearly two and a quarter hours. I couldn’t understand why I wasn’t feeling any kind of anxiety! I fell asleep again. Sleep is the world’s only faithful lover. Whenever I want it, I find it near. Never, under any circumstances, does it abandon me. There can be no purer love than the love for sleep.

When the train reached Chittagong railway station the next day, it was a quarter to ten in the morning. My exam was scheduled to start at ten. It takes only fifteen minutes to get from the station to my house. When I got home, I found my mother sitting there with everything ready in her hands—my pencil box, board, scale, pen, calculator, admit card, registration card, all of it. My parents had been terribly anxious at home. I hadn’t been able to speak to them since after half past one at night. My mobile had run out of charge. (I was using a cheap Nokia 1100 mobile set back then. Everyone called it the “national set”! It was so sturdy that many would joke, “Dude, you could crack jackfruit with that phone!” I’d tease my friends who used expensive mobiles, saying, “My phone’s model is ‘N Eleven Zero Zero’!”) As soon as my mother saw me, she said, “Dear, how are you? Will you take today’s exam?” I felt emotionally numb. It seemed as though I was lighter than a feather at that moment, floating around in some kind of trance! I smiled and said, “Ma, I’m perfectly fine. I’ll take the exam.” Saying this, I took the packed shopping bag from my mother’s hands and left the house just as I was. It was 10:05 on the clock. From our house to the exam center, it takes at least thirty minutes by CNG during office hours. When I reached the college gate, it was 10:43. That day was the mathematical reasoning and mental ability test. The first two hours were mathematical reasoning, followed by one hour of mental ability. The exam had already started forty-three minutes earlier. Naturally, the police wouldn’t let me enter. I pleaded extensively, kept trying futilely to explain what had happened, but they weren’t willing to listen to anything. But I had made up my mind—I wasn’t going to turn back, I would get inside no matter what. A small commotion started gathering there. Seeing the crowd, the magistrate came over. After hearing my entire story, he said, “You only have one hour left. Can you finish all the math problems in this time?” Without a moment’s hesitation, I said, “I can, sir!” “Alright, go ahead. Good luck!” My heart overflowed with gratitude toward him. At that moment, he seemed to me not human, but divine! I went in, looked at the questions, took the exam. I even showed three problems to the person sitting next to me. (He got a job in Audit and Accounts in the 30th batch.) I scored 98 on that day’s exam—50 in math, 48 in mental ability. After that… well, as everyone says—the rest is history!

But this much is true: had that day’s exam been something other than mathematics, I would have been in real trouble. I can handle math because the type of problems that appeared in the BCS written exam back then weren’t particularly difficult for me to solve. Such problems don’t strain the mind much, and the 30th BCS written exam featured relatively easy math. Even if I worked through each step carefully and added side notes, it shouldn’t have taken more than half an hour. It didn’t for me either. However, spending two and a half hours on the International Affairs exam the day before had been risky. Actually, no matter how incredible the whole affair might seem, everything appears to have been predetermined by the Creator or nature itself. What remains inexplicable to our limited understanding is simply a natural, ordinary occurrence for the Creator. All our failures and successes are already decided beforehand. But to reach that point, the effort—or making the right decision at the right time—that we must do ourselves. I wasn’t even supposed to pass my undergraduate degree. Yet it was my destiny to complete my undergraduate studies, become a BCS cadre, study at IBA—all of it was written in my fate. Had my destiny been bound elsewhere, I would have gone there instead. I had enrolled in another master’s program under Dhaka University—MDS. After continuing that course for three months, I left it of my own accord. They had said I would need to officially hide the fact that I was simultaneously pursuing another master’s at IBA. I refused to lie. I harbor no regret about this, though. I’ve accepted that pursuing that particular master’s degree simply wasn’t written in my destiny. This is the truth, this is reality. I had gained admission to Dhaka University’s Evening MBA program in Finance, ranking sixth on the merit list, but never had to attend classes there. I received my IBA admission test results before that. I did complete my master’s in Finance from Dhaka University, but the Evening MBA program wasn’t destined for me, so I didn’t pursue my master’s degree from there.

Stepping into two boats in the middle of a river ensures certain death. Logic dictates this. But I placed my feet in two boats, taking the maximum risk—I had no other choice—yet both boats moved forward in parallel at the same speed at the same time, so I didn’t slip between them and lose my life. What explanation could there be for this? Life doesn’t follow logic; life follows the Creator’s signals. Life doesn’t always operate according to explanations. Sometimes life moves on faith. So there’s nothing to say about anyone’s personal philosophy and the life they live according to their beliefs, as long as that life doesn’t interfere with someone else’s way of living. Somewhere, no explicable form of life can be seen, and life is just like this!

Through sheer mental strength alone, I had believed that some miracle would surely occur. It did happen, because in Providence’s master plan, that’s what was meant to happen. Everything in between was the Creator’s games or plans to test my patience and concentration. You will never be given a gift you don’t deserve. You will be tested, and if you fail to pass that test, you will deprive yourself of the Creator’s grace through your own fault. I’m sharing with you the Facebook status I posted after the IBA admission test results came out, along with a couple of my own comments on it:

Friends, I’ve been finally selected for admission into the MBA Program of IBA, Dhaka University. …… feeling happy. ……. HATS OFF to Sharmeen didi, Ira madam & Romel bhai!!

# My dear friends….. Your gorgeous presence on my wall makes me think twice about the POWER of friendship & the MAGIC of love. YES……… They matter!! I just want to be with you forever. Please never say GOODBYE…. It hurts!! Your kindness and care mean a lot to me. You’ve always given me much more than I really deserve. Please accept my sincere GRATITUDE.

Happy Social Networking!!

Long live Facebook!!

My best wishes for our Friendship!!

……… Love you all ……

# (To one of my close friends) Dost, not reaching the Interview Session on 17 January at 5:30 pm was what I thought to be….. reaching there in time was what was written in my DESTINY….. And, I ended up calling it a MIRACLE, something I never believed in before…… Just have a look at the schedule of 17 January……

International Affairs Exam (BCS written exam)…. 10:00 am — 1:00 pm

The departure time of the GMG Airlines: 3:20 pm, there was a delay of about 1 hour due to fog and I availed another delayed flight of Bangladesh Biman at 4:37 pm.

The plane landed on Dhaka Airport at 5:13 pm and then I started my fight against time to meet the deadline by bike with Romel bhai!! Who managed those three saviours (Sharmeen didi, Ira madam & Romel bhai) for me? I don’t know. You better ask the Heaven! I saw such a breath-taking motor-bike driving only in English movies. Before that day, I had never thought I would experience it!!

Life is sometimes stranger than fiction . . . . Who can tell it better than I?

# (To one of my senior high-profile Indian friends) Thank you Sir for your words of felicitation. IBA of Dhaka University is considered as the most prestigious institute for doing MBA in Bangladesh. As per the rules of that Business School, the Major/Field of Specialization is allowed to be chosen at the final semester judging the academic records & intention of a candidate. I don’t have much idea about what to choose and why to choose. Please share some ideas on it as you’ve huge practical knowledge (so far as I know) about the present corporate trend.

You’ve nicely stated the trend of our careerist B-school graduates. No one really cares about their own aptitude, rather, tries to be what market wants them to be. Personally, I always like the decision-making and mainstream operational sections of giant companies. And, probably I’ll go for finance as my major when I’ve to choose it in my final semester. Yes, my semester results must be well enough to work on my advantage. That’ll be a story of one and a half years later. Till then, I’ll have to undergo the generalized curriculum as my B-school formulates. The recent economic recession worries our friends studying at the US universities. And, almost all of them suggest me not to plan of staying there. But at the same time, they suggest me completing my PhD in the US if I want to and grab that opportunity. Let’s wait and see. . . . . Are you in India now? Hope you’re quite OK along with your busy schedule. Please, sometimes give me your valuable suggestions when you’ve time and you’re here on Facebook. . . . . Thank you once again for your helpful advice. Take care.

In explaining the final part of the status shared above, I had written these words:

Let me share the Story behind the Story and elucidate the last part of my status. It would have been quite impossible for me to reach Dhaka University from Dhaka International Airport within just 50 minutes (!!) to attend the interview session of IBA in time on Jan 17, but for the cordial help of Sharmeen didi (Sharmeen Muiz) & Ira madam (Johora Bebe Ira). They’re the persons who made that miracle happen!! And, Romel bhai (Monirul Alam Romel) is the “Man with the Bike” who dared fight against time to meet the deadline!! ……. I feel honoured to express my heartfelt gratitude to these three saviours. …….. Miracles Happen When You Believe!!

I conclude this piece with a beautifully strange comment Sharmeen didi made on that status: “My prayers, good wishes, and prayers remain with you. Dear brother of mine, may you grow to great heights. And may the successful reflection of our efforts (Ira’s and mine) shine through in everything you do. I was there, I am here, I will be there. …….. Heaps of hugs and love.”

What sustains a human being? We live on love, on prayers, on good wishes. These are what keep me alive—quite well alive, in fact. My gratitude!

P.S. Let me offer you some practical wisdom. Those who think they know too much, who consider themselves supremely intelligent, who speak in grand terms without any real qualifications or notable position, who try to diminish others even through outright lies, who pontificate without knowledge, who speak to you in such a manner that you begin to doubt your own confidence—I would advise you to absolutely, absolutely, and absolutely avoid such people. They themselves cannot go very far in life, nor will they allow you to go very far either.

(Written 2-3 years ago)

I thought, why should I surrender before I’ve even lost? I’ll see this through to the end. At home, my parents were also saying, “Give up one of them.” My heart was telling me, “I won’t give up, not for anything!” Let me gamble with life this once and see what happens! You have to listen to your heart. I called the MBA Program Office. Zakir bhai was in charge there. He said, “IBA’s schedule doesn’t change for anyone. You change your schedule.” I said, “That’s not possible. You have several slots. BCS has only one.” Even after that he said, “It’s not possible in any way. We’re sorry!” Saying this, he hung up the phone, and my stubbornness only grew stronger. I put aside studying for the next day’s exam. After some inquiries, I learned that Rahi Sir was the Program Chairman for IBA’s MBA at the time. Only he could change my interview slot if he wanted to. Rahi Sir is an incredibly fierce person. IBA’s Marketing Department is the best in Bangladesh. Rahi Sir is the best faculty in that department. I got his number. The person I got the number from asked, “Are you really going to call Rahi Sir?” “Yes. Why?” “We students never dare to call Sir. And you’re going to call him for this?” “I will. I have to. My back is against the wall.” “God bless you, man! You better think twice.” I said, “Sometimes life doesn’t give you the opportunity to think twice. It’s the first and the only chance! I must grab it before it’s too late! I will call him. I’ll make my attempt—if it works, it works; if not, so be it. If I don’t try, it definitely won’t work. Thank you, bhai!” Right after finishing that conversation, without any second thoughts, I called Rahi Sir. A man with an extremely serious voice. It’s frightening just to speak with him. But I have nothing left to lose. I only know this: I passed IBA’s written exam and IBA has to conduct my interview. I had truly become reckless. I blurted out my entire problem in one breath. Rahi Sir said, “You silly kid! You’ve dared to call Rahi Sir for this! Did you think I am your friend? It’s not my business whether you can attend the viva board or not. You have only 2 choices: Leave IBA, or, Leave BCS.” To my infinite amazement, I heard myself saying, “Sir, I have called you to hear about the third choice. If you don’t have that, please make it for me. I know I’ll be at IBA.” Sir said very loudly over the phone, “You are a stupid little boy. You just know nothing about the things here! Don’t waste my time. I am busy!” “Sir, please give me a chance. I am………” I couldn’t make him hear any more—he hung up before that. I couldn’t understand what had happened, only felt an even stronger desire to believe that I would definitely study at IBA. BCS seemed to fade for a moment. Whatever happens in tomorrow’s exam will happen. Right now I need to sort out the IBA situation first. I called the program office again.

I asked, “When can I actually meet Rahi sir?” “What do you mean?” “Sir told me to come see him.” “Ask sir himself when you can actually meet him.” (I mustered the courage to lie….) “Sir said to call the program office and find out.” “He told you to ask us? Really! Alright, stay on the line, let me check sir’s class schedule.” Zakir bhai informed me that if I came next Friday evening, I could meet sir. Saying “thank you very much,” I hung up the phone and immediately left home to buy a bus ticket. From near Gariullah Shah’s shrine in Chittagong, I bought a ticket on Unique’s non-AC bus to Dhaka for Thursday night. The next day, under tremendous mental pressure, I took my Bangladesh Studies Paper 1 exam. Even in the exam hall, my mind kept racing: “Will Rahi sir keep his word?” In my answer sheet, I mistakenly wrote the word “Rahi” several times, though I crossed it out later.

I arrived at IBA before afternoon on Friday. I stood waiting in front of the MBA Program Office. Zakir bhai wasn’t there at the time—he came in the evening, two hours later. I went up and introduced myself. “Oh, I see, you’ve come from Chittagong. Rahi sir mentioned he would speak with you about changing your interview schedule? Really??” “Yes, he told me to come see him!” We were talking when Rahi sir arrived shortly after. He went straight through the program office into his room. A dignified man of serious disposition. His office was right next to the program office. Zakir bhai said, “Please sit on the sofa. Let me ask sir if he’s free right now.” When he told sir, “Someone named Sushanta Pal has come from Chittagong to see you—you had asked him to come,” sir immediately shouted quite loudly, “I didn’t ask anyone to come see me! Tell him to leave. Disgusting!” Zakir bhai told me, “Sir won’t see you. You should go.” “I’ll leave, but only after meeting with sir. Brother, I haven’t come here to turn back. I must see him.” Almost forcefully, I entered sir’s room without permission. After I said very politely, “Assalamu alaikum, sir,” he returned the greeting and said, “What do you want?” There were several other students in the room who had come to sir for various matters. “Sir, I called you the day before yesterday evening.” “Is it my duty to remember your call? Get out!” I said nothing and stood there with my head bowed. The words “Get out!” didn’t register in my mind. At that moment, I only knew that I would speak with Rahi sir about changing the schedule, and sir would surely agree to do so. After standing like this for nearly half an hour, sir said, “Why are you standing here like a statue?” I fearfully placed an application about changing the time slot on sir’s desk and began to say, “Sir, the day before yesterday I spoke with you on the phone…” “Speak in the language I am using now.” “Sir, my interview has been scheduled for next Monday at 10 in the morning. I am appearing for the 30th BCS written exam. I have an exam at the same time. So, I request you to shift my schedule to another convenient time slot.” “Sorry, we cannot.” “Please Sir! Otherwise, my dream to be here will be shattered.” “Let it be. Just go for BCS. You will do better being a civil servant.” “But Sir, it’s uncertain.” “Is being here certain for you?” “No Sir, that’s why I cannot leave any of these 2 opportunities. Please Sir, give me a chance. Do me a favour. I will be ever grateful, Sir.” “What time is your exam?” “10 o’clock, sir.” “How long?” “Three hours, sir.” “Okay fine, come straight here after your exam. Can you make it by 1:30?” I realized sir had forgotten that I’d come from Chittagong. “Sir, I’m taking the exam from Chittagong.” “Stupid! We cannot change our schedule for you! Are you Mr President?” “No Sir, I just want to be your student! I will do anything you tell me to do. Please give me a chance, Sir!” “Look, brother, you won’t be able to finish your exam at 1 o’clock and come from Chittagong to take the interview anyway.

You won’t make it even if you leave at 10 PM. The roads are in terrible condition, there’s heavy traffic.” “Sir, I can come in the evening.” “How? By plane?” “Yes, sir. Please give me a chance, sir.” “Alright. Don’t you have an exam the next day?” “I do, sir. I can manage. I’ll buy a return ticket.” “What time can you arrive?” “Whatever you say, sir.” “Your exam will end at 1 PM. Hmm… okay, can you make it to the 3 o’clock board?” “Yes sir, I can be there at 3.” “Do you know if there are flights at that time?” “I don’t know, sir. I’ll find out.” “I think there’s a flight around 3.” “What time can you arrive?” “4 o’clock, sir?” “Foolish boy! Your brain isn’t working. How can you take a 3 o’clock flight from Chittagong and get from the airport to IBA by 4? You have no idea about Dhaka city. Okay, you come by 5:15 sharp. You will be last person in that board. If you come after that, nothing can be done. The evening board is for Executive MBA. It won’t be possible to hold your viva there. Okay?” “Thank you, sir.” “Youngman, you have decided to play with your life! Best of luck!” “Please pray for me, sir. I can do this!” Tears came to my eyes. I realized that though this man appeared stern on the outside, he was very gentle within. I offered many prayers for the sir and left IBA. I went to Aziz and bought some books. Then I went to Fakirapul and took the 10 PM non-AC bus from Unique, reaching Chittagong in the morning.

I’m sharing the application with you:

15 January 2011

The Program Director, MBA Program

Institute of Business Administration

University of Dhaka

Dhaka

Subject: Prayer for changing the time slot of the interview schedule of the MBA Program Admission

Sir,

This letter expresses my earnest request to change my interview schedule of the MBA Program Admission 2010-2011. I am a candidate for Full-Time Course, my admit number is 2745 and I am on Interview Board 6 scheduled to be conducted at the 10:00 am to 1:00 pm time slot on January 17, 2011. I am appearing at the 30th BCS written examination and my Examination Centre is at Chittagong. I have an examination on January 17, 2011, coincided with the same time slot of the interview and so it is not possible for me to come from Chittagong and attend the interview at 10:00 am.

I will be highly obliged if you kindly permit me to attend the interview at the 6:00 pm to 8:30 pm time slot scheduled for Evening Board 3 and Evening Board 4 on January 17, 2011.

Yours faithfully

Sushanta Paul

I had never been on a plane before. I thought that wherever you go, you need a passport to fly. My elder brother called a friend who works with passport services and asked what documents are needed for an emergency passport to Dhaka. He burst out laughing! He said, “Buddy, what do you need a passport for? A plane and a bus are the same thing. One flies in the sky, the other runs on the road. That’s all there is to it! Just go buy a ticket. That’s it! Which one is good? You can go with GMG. That’s pretty good.” I didn’t know that you don’t have to rush to the airport to buy a plane ticket. I had no idea how much tickets cost. Getting off the bus in the morning, I went straight to a Dutch-Bangla Bank booth and withdrew ten thousand taka. Then I jumped into a CNG and rushed to the airport. I bought a ticket from the GMG Airlines counter for the 3:20 flight on Monday, the 17th. That was the first Chittagong-Dhaka flight of the afternoon. I booked a return ticket for the same day on the 7:45 evening flight. I felt like I could see it right before my eyes—me attending classes at IBA! Such a strange vision! I returned home with a victorious smile, almost as if I had already gotten into IBA! At night, I tried to prepare from various guides and the internet about what they might ask in the IBA interview. I studied for about 4-5 hours. At the same time, I posted a status on Facebook: How much time does it take to reach Dhaka University from Dhaka International Airport? Is it possible to reach in 40 minutes? Friends, any suggestion, please? I was truly a very simple person back then. I saw the world in very simple terms. Since I hadn’t visited Dhaka much, I didn’t know that in 2011 it wasn’t possible to get from the airport to Shahbag in 40 minutes. Everyone was saying it would take a minimum of two hours to get from the airport to the university campus in the afternoon. All sorts of bizarre comments came in reply to my status. Many started making fun of me. I’ll share some of my friends’ suggestions: “It’s possible if you run.” “It would be great if you jogged to the university. You’d get your evening exercise too!” “You shouldn’t have bought that plane ticket! With that money, if you had thrown us a party, we all would have prayed together and your BCS would have worked out! Hahahaha…..” “Young man! You’re young, just run as soon as you get off the plane! You’ll see, you’ll reach before time!” “Listen, such-and-such bus runs on such-and-such route. Hanging and sleeping, you’ll reach IBA just fine!” I got many such absurd comments. I knew absolutely nothing about Dhaka then. When you’re in trouble, doesn’t everyone have to give you a kick? It began to feel like that’s just how life is! People can’t extend a hand to pull you up, but they can certainly extend a foot to kick you down! Without getting the least bit discouraged by anyone’s words, I kept waiting to see if someone would give some good advice. I didn’t react to anyone’s reply that day. How helplessly calm a person becomes when in trouble. All I knew was this: “I’m giving my IBA interview on the 17th.” One person wrote, “You can go by bike. There’s no faster way to reach the university campus.” Some people even supported that idea. A few mentioned taxi cabs. Support was strongest for the bike option. Up until then, I had ridden a bike maybe 2-3 times in my entire life, counting generously. I didn’t really know anyone in Dhaka who had a bike, or if I did know someone, my mind wasn’t working at all then. Sometimes I think now, alas!

I couldn’t even afford to manage a bike at that time. I wrote, “My flight is scheduled to land at Dhaka Airport at 4.10 pm on 17 January. I must reach Dhaka University at or before 5.15 pm. I’ve an interview at IBA at that time. . . . Can’t I do it? Is it not possible? I need to do it at any cost. As I don’t know about the routes of Dhaka City, I’m asking for your help. Dhaka City is an unknown city to me. Can a taxi cab help me reach there in 1 hour? I can’t be late, otherwise I’ll miss the interview schedule. I’ve managed that schedule today through an application. . . Can a bike be a better solution? Or, something else? I’m in great trouble. . . .” After posting this, the mocking and laughter began all over again. I replied to the distinguished gentleman (one of Bangladesh’s most successful businessmen) who had advised me to jog there: “Thank you Sir for you ‘jogging’ suggestion. I was also seriously thinking of this option. Yes, I’ll surely manage to reach in time by vehicles, on foot, again by vehicles, again on foot . . . . And, I’ll go. I’ll be there in time by any means.” Someone said, “Change the schedule once more.” I wrote, “The schedule can’t be changed! Hopefully, there will happen some miracle and I’ll manage to avail the schedule in time.” A younger brother wrote, “Brother, you should go by taxi-cab. But you could try the bus once. Dhaka buses run quite well!” I replied, “Brother, I’m not surely making any attempt of getting on a bus! That’ll be horrible, you know. I was just seeking for a suggestion as I don’t know about the route. Thanks for the suggestion. I think a CNG powered taxi can help me in this regard. A taxi-cab is prone to getting stuck up in the congestion forever. A bike could be a better solution. But, I can’t manage it.”

Mrs. Zohra, whose name was Ira—an extremely distinguished lady—commented, “You need a bike?” “That would be wonderful.” “Alright, let me see what I can do.” She was the Deputy Managing Director of ONE Bank. After completing her studies in Chemistry from Chittagong University, she had done her MBA from IBA. She worked in the corporate sector, but there were very few people who didn’t know her. I have a sister. Her name is Sharmin Muiz Khan. At that time, she was one of those rare souls who loved someone as insignificant as me far more than necessary, showered me with affection for no particular reason. She was almost my mother’s age, but I addressed her as ‘tumi’ and she called me ‘tui’. She had studied English Literature at Dhaka University. She particularly loved my writing. She was a business magnate and had connections with many prominent people. I have rarely seen a lady as distinguished, refined, elegant, and utterly graceful as her. She commented, “Bappi, someone needs to grab you and give you a good thrashing. Are you enjoying confusing everyone by calling them all the time? Please stop wasting your time browsing Facebook and concentrate on tomorrow’s exam. Otherwise, you’re calling for another disaster. There is a saying: ‘Que sera, sera’ meaning: Whatever will be, will be. So, pray and try your best. I have given this opinion after a lot of serious thoughts. Please follow it. You will leave here right now. I don’t want to see you making even one more comment! MIRACLES HAPPEN IF YOU BELIEVE IN YOURSELF!” I replied, “Didi, things are that they’re. Things will be that they will be. And, between this two there lie some miracles that we’re never aware of. And, miracles are often stranger than facts. Facts are because they’re. Miracles are because we or someone else wants them to be. That’s the truth!” She called Mrs. Zohra. She said, “Look Ira, my brother has gotten into a bit of trouble. The poor thing is a simple soul, we should do something for him. Can’t you arrange a bike for him?” A little while later, I saw a message from Mrs. Zohra in my inbox: “Please give me your contact number. Regards” I gave it immediately. The call came within seconds. After introducing herself, she said, “You need a bike Monday at 4 PM, right?” “That would be wonderful.” “OK, a bike will be there for you at 4. My colleague Romel will pick you. Alright?” “I am truly, truly grateful. Thank you so very much!” “Let’s get the work done first, then you can thank me. I’m texting you Romel’s number. Take care.” She hung up immediately. I wrote to her: “Life is stranger than fiction, I repeat. From myself, I’ve got much less than I truly deserve. From others, I’ve got much more than I truly deserve. Is it the thing that they call miracle? I don’t know and never try to know. I let miracles happen and thankfully they always happen . . . . . . . Thank you for your generous approach. This really means a lot to me.” I wrote my piece. I don’t know if she ever read it or had the time to read it. Noble souls don’t wait for thanks. Besides, she was truly, truly busy.

He was the head of the credit section at One Bank. He had no reason to know a nobody like me, yet he knew me through my writing. Otherwise, I would never have had the privilege of speaking with him directly. And the fact that Sharmin didi had spoken to him about me—that was a big deal too. The next day was the Bangladesh Affairs Paper 2 exam. I went to sleep without studying any of it. The day after, straight from the exam hall, I went to the Westex showroom at Probortak intersection. My life’s first interview. I was incredibly excited! I had decided I’d go to the interview board wearing everything brand new. I bought a formal white shirt, black pants, black tie, black belt, black socks, white undershirt, and brown shoes. Later, from Gallery Apex I bought formal Oxford shoes, and from Time Zone a Titan wristwatch, then returned home in the evening. Seeing my antics, Ma was laughing. “Ma, why are you laughing?” “Just because, dear.” The funny thing was, Ma went with me to the exam hall every single day. She always kept me close, just like a child. Ma said, “Tomorrow I’m going to the airport with you.” And she did go—despite my protests.

Monday, the 17th. International Affairs exam. I couldn’t stay in the exam hall for the entire time due to nerves. I don’t have a car, what if the CNG takes too long to reach the airport! What if I miss the flight! The flight was at 3:20. And it takes at least 2 hours to reach the airport from Omar Gani MES College by 1 PM. Our written exam had been during winter. In the bitter cold, my fingers would freeze. Still, I kept rubbing my palms together to warm them, blowing hot breath into the hollow of my cupped hands, and wrote with all my strength. Instead of 1 o’clock, I finished the exam at 12:30, submitted my paper, and rushed out. When I emerged from the hall and reached the gate, everyone thought I must have been expelled! The intense stress was clearly written all over my face. Many showed me sympathy, told me not to worry, advised me to do better in the next BCS. I didn’t have time to respond. What could I say anyway—at that moment, life itself was one giant question mark for me! I don’t know what strength possessed my mother. She ran almost twice as fast as me, covering the distance from the college campus to the road. We got into a CNG without bargaining, paying nearly one and a half times the normal fare. I told the driver, “However you manage it, get us to the airport within two hours. If necessary, I’ll pay you extra.” It was 12:50 on the clock. The CNG started speeding. Mother opened the tiffin box and fed me khichuri, meat, and fried egg. One thought kept spinning in my head: “Will I catch the plane? If we get stuck in traffic, it’s all over!” I took off my sweater. I had left home that morning wearing my viva outfit, everything except the tie. After escaping two minor traffic jams, when we reached the airport, it was 5 minutes to 3. As soon as I got down, I touched my mother’s and aunt’s feet in respect (a distant aunt had come with us since mother couldn’t return home from the airport alone) and ran to the counter. There I learned that the flight was delayed by an hour due to dense fog. I thought, if the plane leaves at that time, there’s no way I can reach IBA by 5:15. I informed the counter staff about this. They said there was nothing they could do; they were very sorry. I inquired and learned that no other flights were departing at that time either. At that moment, I felt utterly helpless, just wanting to cry. I felt like I had no one, no one at all! I kept going from counter to counter. I found out there was a Bangladesh Biman flight departing at 3:45. There was no other flight before that. It was a bigger plane, taking 30 minutes to reach, whereas other planes take at least 40 minutes. Meaning, I would reach Dhaka airport by 4:15! I bought the ticket right then. There was great hope in my heart—if this one leaves on time, there’s nothing more to worry about. I went to the airport restroom and quickly put on my tie. I adjusted my shirt once more. Looking in the mirror, I fixed my hair with my hand. The clock hand crossed 4 after passing 3:45. The plane was delayed due to fog. We all boarded the plane at 4:15. It was my first time on a plane. I kept thinking, when will it take off, when will it take off! Every second felt like an hour! The tension was making it hard to breathe, yet the plane wouldn’t take off. I thought, oh! If only I could spend all my strength to make this plane soar into the sky! I pressed my handkerchief over my eyes to hide my tears. Finally, the plane took off. It was 4:37 on the clock. I was thinking, oh!

The plane could have taken off directly without taxiing! At least a couple of minutes would have been saved! The plane landed on Dhaka’s runway at 5:13.

I burst out of the domestic terminal running with all my might, and gasping for breath, I saw a motorcycle come to a stop right in front of me. “You’re Sushanta, right? Get on the back!” I extended my hand to shake hands with the young man in the black helmet. He didn’t raise his black-gloved right fist for a handshake. “Time’s wasting, brother! Please get on! Quick!” I didn’t argue further. “You’re not used to riding bikes, are you?” “Yes. How did you know?” “Brother, I’ve been riding bikes for the past 18-20 years. I can tell.” “I see.” “Lean forward and press your chest firmly against my back! You can even wrap your arms around me, otherwise you’ll get thrown off. For sure! I’m going to ride fast.” The way that bike tore out of the airport—I don’t have the courage to even think about it today. Under normal circumstances, I might have screamed in fear and told him to stop, or I really would have been thrown off. But at that moment I knew that being afraid was important, but far more important was reaching IBA alive. I don’t know if the wheels of that 150cc bike actually touched the ground that day, but for the second time in my life I understood this truth: you cannot frighten someone who stakes their life to touch their dreams. I had only seen bikes racing so recklessly on the roads in movies. The bike was literally cutting through the whooshing sound of wind, as if flying through the air! “Say brother, are you somebody really important?” “What do you mean?” “Well, Madam told me that one of her very important friends had to be delivered from the airport to IBA within half an hour, no matter what. That was her order! Who are you, brother? Hahahaha………” “I’m Madam’s Facebook friend.” “What are you saying, man? How’s that possible! I was thinking even more… you mean you’ve never even met her?” “No, brother. Why?” (There’s a railway crossing ahead. The barrier is coming down.) “Brother, duck your head a little.” Saying this, he quickly rode the bike under the barrier without obeying the signal. Many people behind us were shouting for us to stop. “Brother, just don’t be afraid. Nothing will happen. You can close your eyes if you want.” Right at that moment, while quickly emerging from between two trucks standing side by side, he said, “Sit a bit smaller, brother!” A little further ahead—massive traffic jam at a signal! Romel bhai lifted the bike onto the sidewalk. “Brother, please give way a little, give way a little,” he kept saying as he raced forward. He had to do this several times. Sometimes when riding on the central divider in the middle of the road, traffic police would catch us, and he’d say in a tearful voice, “Sir, my aunt is fighting for her life in the medical college. I’m going to donate blood. O-negative blood—we can’t find any. If I don’t reach on time, we won’t be able to save my aunt, sir!” He’d manage the police with this story and then race off at the same speed again! Whenever there was a traffic jam on the road, he’d immediately change to another road. That day I learned that when obstacles appear on the road, it doesn’t mean there is no road. Rather, it means you have to take a different road! Right now!! I had only seen such daredevil biking in Hollywood action movies. Looking at my hair in the bike’s mirror, it seemed as if it had stood up straight after an electric shock! My face was covered with dust from the city. In the fierce wind, my tie was flying behind me in the air. I don’t know if anyone has ever seen a bike race so recklessly through Dhaka’s roads during rush hour. But for some reason, I truly wasn’t afraid at all. I kept thinking over and over, “How quickly can one reach IBA!” Romel bhai had finished his honors and master’s from Dhaka College before joining the bank. I had asked him, “What’s your designation at the bank?” He had joked, “Not much, just 14 more promotions and I’ll be able to sit in Zohra Madam’s chair. Hahaha…….”

When I arrived in front of IBA, my watch showed 5:52. As I got down, I saw my younger brother Pappu and his friend Arefin standing there. At that time, I had my gift shop ‘Dobhana.’ Pappu and Arefin were my working partners. They often came to Dhaka from Chawk Bazaar in Old Dhaka to buy wholesale goods for the shop. I had withdrawn myself from the shop to focus on my BCS exam preparation. They ran everything. They were already in Dhaka on shop business. I had told them to go to the IBA MBA program office and keep me updated by phone about the viva board situation. Through repeated conversations with them, I was checking whether the interview board was still there, asking them to go to the program office and explain that I couldn’t arrive on time due to flight delays, terrible traffic jams, and so on. As soon as I got down, they informed me, “Bhaiya, the board left 4-5 minutes ago. Now only the Executive MBA viva remains.” After introducing them to Romel bhai, I rushed up to the MBA program office on the second floor. As soon as they saw me, everyone there stopped their work and looked at me. I saw Rahi Sir busy with something; he didn’t respond to my greeting. “Sir, I’m very late. Despite trying hard, I couldn’t arrive on time. I…” Without giving me a chance to say anything more, he shouted, “You Idiot! Get out!” “Sir, I…” “I said, Get out! Out! Out!! I knew very well that you wouldn’t be able to come on time. Is it possible to take one exam in Chittagong and then come to Dhaka for another exam? That easy? You’ve just wasted my time! I had told everyone that a boy from Chittagong would come at 5:15, and we needed to take his viva. Did you think I am a joker?” “Sir, I came here with great difficulty. The flight was delayed, there was heavy traffic on the road. I really…” “It’s none of my business! Get out! Go back where you came from.” “Sir, I had many dreams of studying at IBA.” “Everyone on the street has such dreams. I gave you a chance but you missed it. That’s all! Get out of here.” “Sir, please have some mercy…” (I felt like falling at his feet and crying…) Right beside him sat a gentle-looking gentleman much younger than the sir. He said, “Sir, I’ve heard about him. His younger brother kept coming to our program office. They had been standing in front of the office for hours. His flight was indeed delayed. And there’s heavy traffic in Dhaka today too. A friend of mine came to my room from the airport a while ago; it took him a long time to get here too. Give him a chance, Sir. He’s come so far, taking such risks with great difficulty! He apparently has another written exam tomorrow too. The poor fellow has to return to Chittagong today itself.” “Son, you junior faculty members don’t even know what you’re saying, what kind of requests you make. Why are you pleading for him? Is he your relative or something?” “No no Sir, I’m seeing him for the first time today. Just look at his face once, Sir. He’s really come here with great difficulty. Please do him a favor, Sir.” “You have no idea what you are talking about! Will the Executive MBA viva be the same as theirs? They have 3 years of job experience, while these are just children in comparison!

“This won’t be possible, brother. I am sorry!” “Sir, please help the poor fellow a bit. He’s come such a long way with so much hope!” “Son, we can’t manage anything more for you!” I stood a little distance away, head bowed. Looking at me, he called out loudly, “Hey, stupid! Why are you standing there like a donkey? Go on, go to the third floor! Go and stand there absolutely quietly. We’ll call you.” I truly couldn’t understand whether such a beautiful moment had ever come anywhere in this world before! Tears began streaming down my face. I prayed again and again from my heart for Babu sir. Rahi sir seemed like a father figure to me. I kept remembering mother’s words: “Never get angry at teachers’ scolding. When teachers scold, it means blessings.” Overwhelmed with emotion, as I was about to leave after thanking and saluting the teachers, Rahi sir called from behind, “Hey crazy boy! Comb your hair before entering the board! Wash your face at the basin! Don’t be so scared! Hahaha…” I couldn’t say anything more. I kept staring blankly at sir’s face. My cheeks were wet with tears from both eyes. Babu sir placed his hand on my shoulder and said, “Go on, go upstairs and wait. We are not that much bad people as you thought us to be. Sometimes even the IBA faculties are too good! Freshen up, give your interview properly, now there’s no tension anymore. What’s your exam tomorrow?” “Sir, Mathematical Reasoning and Mental Ability.” “How will you go?” “Sir, I have a return plane ticket.” “Good! Brother, splash some water on your eyes and face to fix your appearance. Give your viva quickly and rush to the airport! Good luck!” At that moment I felt like touching sir’s feet in salute. People get frightened by sudden intense love. For the first time, it suddenly struck me: “What if I can’t honor this love of my teachers? What if I don’t get a chance at IBA in the end?”

When we find ourselves in trouble, if our intentions are pure, a way out always emerges! I went to the washroom on the third floor and tried my best to “make myself presentable” by wetting my hair and smoothing it down. After splashing water on my face, I went and waited in front of the notice board. I was called after 10 minutes. It was nearly seven o’clock. When I entered the room, I saw many faculty members seated there. I hadn’t known that so many would be present for an interview. I thought this was perhaps how IBA interviews were conducted. I later learned that this entire panel had been assembled just for me. Apart from Babu Sir and Rahi Sir, I didn’t recognize anyone else. After getting admitted, I realized that those present that evening were IBA’s most senior and accomplished faculty members. The board included Saiful Majid Sir, Shama-e-Zahir Sir, Mamun Sir, Munir Khosru Sir, Niaz Sir, and Saif Noman Khan Sir. Most of the junior faculty had finished their interviews and gone home, while some senior faculty were in their offices conducting Executive MBA interviews. Some of them had been specially called in. I was in the interview for about 18-20 minutes. Many of the faculty members knew about my situation that day. I had heard of something called “divine possession” in life. At certain special moments, due to particular external influences or circumstances, people suddenly gain extraordinary power. In those moments, they step outside their normal state and display different behavior. They can harness the utmost potential of their inner infinite strength. In that wondrous balanced fusion of emotion and capability, the best version of themselves emerges. From the moment I entered the interview room, I had very likely become a different person, or perhaps the very best ‘me’ from within had emerged that day. By what divine signal this happened, I don’t know. No hesitation, doubt, nervousness, fear, the day’s exhaustion, or lethargy was affecting me at all. I felt incredibly composed and light as a feather. It felt as though whatever I was saying or doing was the best possible. I was experiencing the finest moment of my life right then and there. I can say with complete honesty that the style in which I spoke English that day—I have never in my entire life, even to this day, been able to speak English so flawlessly and fluently. That day the faculty members engaged in various kinds of humor during the interview. They were having great fun with me. Most likely, the faculty wanted to “shake me up” somehow. I don’t know why, by whose indication I don’t know, but I kept answering all their questions one by one with a very cool head and a smile that day. They interviewed me in English on various diverse topics, starting from describing the entire day’s events and the preceding Facebook incidents to many other subjects. (Of course, at IBA there’s absolutely no opportunity to give interviews in Bengali.) Why I wanted to pursue an MBA, why IBA if I was going to take government job exams anyway, my weaknesses, whether I’d ever been in love, how I spend my leisure time, some conversation about reading books, various economic issues of Bangladesh, some personal and family matters, my future plans, the breathless motorcycle journey from A to Z, the BCS examination system, why I went into engineering despite having no interest, why I delayed my honors degree, why I didn’t study properly, why my CGPA was so low, what I like to eat, what kind of personality I prefer in people, what I know about IBA, some current affairs, and several other questions. I was answering very quickly in correct English. The faculty praised this too. I gave a very simple, straightforward, and candid interview. I didn’t speak a single false word that day.

I didn’t need to think before speaking—whatever came to mind, I simply said, so there was no chance to fabricate lies. At the end, they asked me to sing a song. When I said, “I can’t, Sir,” Babu Sir showed me my info-form and laughed, saying, “But you’ve claimed so.” I had written Reading, Writing, Singing in the hobbies section… At that moment, it felt like I was living the best day of my life. I sang, “Aaj ei dintake…” “I see, we’re getting a singer for our cultural program!” As Saiful Majid Sir was saying this, Babu Sir interjected, “Sir, he has another exam tomorrow. He’ll probably be flying back to Chittagong tonight.” Then three or four teachers exclaimed in unison, “What! He’s going back to Chittagong right now? Well then, run along, run along! Go downstairs and see if your superman biker is there! Hahahaha…” As I was leaving with my salaam, the teachers called out, “Best of luck for your tomorrow’s exam.” I kept thinking, again and again—I’ll make it, I’ll make it! (Even after giving the BCS viva, I didn’t feel this good.)

When I stepped out of IBA, it was half past seven on the clock. I knew there was no way I could catch the 7:45 flight. I also knew that I had no idea how I would get to Chittagong that night. I didn’t even feel like thinking about it. Only the exhilarating rush of having given a good exam was coursing through me. Pappu and Arefin had been waiting for me at Madhu’s canteen. Taking them along, I went to the front of Dhaka University’s Central Library and leisurely began eating vegetable pakoras and tea. Many of my students studied in various departments at Dhaka University. Quite a few came to see me. They were asking what questions had been asked in the interview. After a day of incredible experiences, my head had become almost entirely empty. I couldn’t understand why I wasn’t feeling the slightest urgency to return to Chittagong. Pappu asked, “Brother, will you take the night bus?” I said, “Yes, that could work.” (It amuses me now to think how casually I had said ‘that could work’!) The road conditions weren’t good then either, there were always traffic jams. It didn’t even occur to me—what would happen if I couldn’t reach by 10 AM tomorrow? Ripon, a dear younger brother who lived in Chittagong and was one of my former students, said, “Brother, I have a non-AC train ticket; for Turna Nishitha, leaving tonight. It doesn’t matter if I don’t go to Chittagong today. Brother, you take it.” “Alright, fine,” I said, took the ticket, and set off toward Kamalapur Station. That night the train left nearly an hour and a half late. I didn’t even want to think about what was going to happen! I had already surrendered myself to fate long before. In my mind I kept repeating only this: whatever will be, will be. Whether I want it or not, it will happen. And whatever is happening is surely for the good; whatever will happen will surely be for the good too. Let’s see! After the day’s exhaustion, I had a very peaceful sleep. Suddenly I woke up hearing commotion around me. The train had stopped at Comilla. Apparently there was some problem with the line. We were delayed there for nearly two and a quarter hours. I couldn’t understand why I wasn’t feeling any kind of anxiety! I fell asleep again. Sleep is the world’s only faithful lover. Whenever I want it, I find it near. Never, under any circumstances, does it abandon me. There can be no purer love than the love for sleep.

When the train reached Chittagong railway station the next day, it was a quarter to ten in the morning. My exam was scheduled to start at ten. It takes only fifteen minutes to get from the station to my house. When I got home, I found my mother sitting there with everything ready in her hands—my pencil box, board, scale, pen, calculator, admit card, registration card, all of it. My parents had been terribly anxious at home. I hadn’t been able to speak to them since after half past one at night. My mobile had run out of charge. (I was using a cheap Nokia 1100 mobile set back then. Everyone called it the “national set”! It was so sturdy that many would joke, “Dude, you could crack jackfruit with that phone!” I’d tease my friends who used expensive mobiles, saying, “My phone’s model is ‘N Eleven Zero Zero’!”) As soon as my mother saw me, she said, “Dear, how are you? Will you take today’s exam?” I felt emotionally numb. It seemed as though I was lighter than a feather at that moment, floating around in some kind of trance! I smiled and said, “Ma, I’m perfectly fine. I’ll take the exam.” Saying this, I took the packed shopping bag from my mother’s hands and left the house just as I was. It was 10:05 on the clock. From our house to the exam center, it takes at least thirty minutes by CNG during office hours. When I reached the college gate, it was 10:43. That day was the mathematical reasoning and mental ability test. The first two hours were mathematical reasoning, followed by one hour of mental ability. The exam had already started forty-three minutes earlier. Naturally, the police wouldn’t let me enter. I pleaded extensively, kept trying futilely to explain what had happened, but they weren’t willing to listen to anything. But I had made up my mind—I wasn’t going to turn back, I would get inside no matter what. A small commotion started gathering there. Seeing the crowd, the magistrate came over. After hearing my entire story, he said, “You only have one hour left. Can you finish all the math problems in this time?” Without a moment’s hesitation, I said, “I can, sir!” “Alright, go ahead. Good luck!” My heart overflowed with gratitude toward him. At that moment, he seemed to me not human, but divine! I went in, looked at the questions, took the exam. I even showed three problems to the person sitting next to me. (He got a job in Audit and Accounts in the 30th batch.) I scored 98 on that day’s exam—50 in math, 48 in mental ability. After that… well, as everyone says—the rest is history!

But this much is true: had that day’s exam been something other than mathematics, I would have been in real trouble. I can handle math because the type of problems that appeared in the BCS written exam back then weren’t particularly difficult for me to solve. Such problems don’t strain the mind much, and the 30th BCS written exam featured relatively easy math. Even if I worked through each step carefully and added side notes, it shouldn’t have taken more than half an hour. It didn’t for me either. However, spending two and a half hours on the International Affairs exam the day before had been risky. Actually, no matter how incredible the whole affair might seem, everything appears to have been predetermined by the Creator or nature itself. What remains inexplicable to our limited understanding is simply a natural, ordinary occurrence for the Creator. All our failures and successes are already decided beforehand. But to reach that point, the effort—or making the right decision at the right time—that we must do ourselves. I wasn’t even supposed to pass my undergraduate degree. Yet it was my destiny to complete my undergraduate studies, become a BCS cadre, study at IBA—all of it was written in my fate. Had my destiny been bound elsewhere, I would have gone there instead. I had enrolled in another master’s program under Dhaka University—MDS. After continuing that course for three months, I left it of my own accord. They had said I would need to officially hide the fact that I was simultaneously pursuing another master’s at IBA. I refused to lie. I harbor no regret about this, though. I’ve accepted that pursuing that particular master’s degree simply wasn’t written in my destiny. This is the truth, this is reality. I had gained admission to Dhaka University’s Evening MBA program in Finance, ranking sixth on the merit list, but never had to attend classes there. I received my IBA admission test results before that. I did complete my master’s in Finance from Dhaka University, but the Evening MBA program wasn’t destined for me, so I didn’t pursue my master’s degree from there.

Stepping into two boats in the middle of a river ensures certain death. Logic dictates this. But I placed my feet in two boats, taking the maximum risk—I had no other choice—yet both boats moved forward in parallel at the same speed at the same time, so I didn’t slip between them and lose my life. What explanation could there be for this? Life doesn’t follow logic; life follows the Creator’s signals. Life doesn’t always operate according to explanations. Sometimes life moves on faith. So there’s nothing to say about anyone’s personal philosophy and the life they live according to their beliefs, as long as that life doesn’t interfere with someone else’s way of living. Somewhere, no explicable form of life can be seen, and life is just like this!

Through sheer mental strength alone, I had believed that some miracle would surely occur. It did happen, because in Providence’s master plan, that’s what was meant to happen. Everything in between was the Creator’s games or plans to test my patience and concentration. You will never be given a gift you don’t deserve. You will be tested, and if you fail to pass that test, you will deprive yourself of the Creator’s grace through your own fault. I’m sharing with you the Facebook status I posted after the IBA admission test results came out, along with a couple of my own comments on it:

Friends, I’ve been finally selected for admission into the MBA Program of IBA, Dhaka University. …… feeling happy. ……. HATS OFF to Sharmeen didi, Ira madam & Romel bhai!!

# My dear friends….. Your gorgeous presence on my wall makes me think twice about the POWER of friendship & the MAGIC of love. YES……… They matter!! I just want to be with you forever. Please never say GOODBYE…. It hurts!! Your kindness and care mean a lot to me. You’ve always given me much more than I really deserve. Please accept my sincere GRATITUDE.

Happy Social Networking!!

Long live Facebook!!

My best wishes for our Friendship!!

……… Love you all ……

# (To one of my close friends) Dost, not reaching the Interview Session on 17 January at 5:30 pm was what I thought to be….. reaching there in time was what was written in my DESTINY….. And, I ended up calling it a MIRACLE, something I never believed in before…… Just have a look at the schedule of 17 January……

International Affairs Exam (BCS written exam)…. 10:00 am — 1:00 pm

The departure time of the GMG Airlines: 3:20 pm, there was a delay of about 1 hour due to fog and I availed another delayed flight of Bangladesh Biman at 4:37 pm.

The plane landed on Dhaka Airport at 5:13 pm and then I started my fight against time to meet the deadline by bike with Romel bhai!! Who managed those three saviours (Sharmeen didi, Ira madam & Romel bhai) for me? I don’t know. You better ask the Heaven! I saw such a breath-taking motor-bike driving only in English movies. Before that day, I had never thought I would experience it!!

Life is sometimes stranger than fiction . . . . Who can tell it better than I?

# (To one of my senior high-profile Indian friends) Thank you Sir for your words of felicitation. IBA of Dhaka University is considered as the most prestigious institute for doing MBA in Bangladesh. As per the rules of that Business School, the Major/Field of Specialization is allowed to be chosen at the final semester judging the academic records & intention of a candidate. I don’t have much idea about what to choose and why to choose. Please share some ideas on it as you’ve huge practical knowledge (so far as I know) about the present corporate trend.

You’ve nicely stated the trend of our careerist B-school graduates. No one really cares about their own aptitude, rather, tries to be what market wants them to be. Personally, I always like the decision-making and mainstream operational sections of giant companies. And, probably I’ll go for finance as my major when I’ve to choose it in my final semester. Yes, my semester results must be well enough to work on my advantage. That’ll be a story of one and a half years later. Till then, I’ll have to undergo the generalized curriculum as my B-school formulates. The recent economic recession worries our friends studying at the US universities. And, almost all of them suggest me not to plan of staying there. But at the same time, they suggest me completing my PhD in the US if I want to and grab that opportunity. Let’s wait and see. . . . . Are you in India now? Hope you’re quite OK along with your busy schedule. Please, sometimes give me your valuable suggestions when you’ve time and you’re here on Facebook. . . . . Thank you once again for your helpful advice. Take care.

In explaining the final part of the status shared above, I had written these words:

Let me share the Story behind the Story and elucidate the last part of my status. It would have been quite impossible for me to reach Dhaka University from Dhaka International Airport within just 50 minutes (!!) to attend the interview session of IBA in time on Jan 17, but for the cordial help of Sharmeen didi (Sharmeen Muiz) & Ira madam (Johora Bebe Ira). They’re the persons who made that miracle happen!! And, Romel bhai (Monirul Alam Romel) is the “Man with the Bike” who dared fight against time to meet the deadline!! ……. I feel honoured to express my heartfelt gratitude to these three saviours. …….. Miracles Happen When You Believe!!

I conclude this piece with a beautifully strange comment Sharmeen didi made on that status: “My prayers, good wishes, and prayers remain with you. Dear brother of mine, may you grow to great heights. And may the successful reflection of our efforts (Ira’s and mine) shine through in everything you do. I was there, I am here, I will be there. …….. Heaps of hugs and love.”

What sustains a human being? We live on love, on prayers, on good wishes. These are what keep me alive—quite well alive, in fact. My gratitude!

P.S. Let me offer you some practical wisdom. Those who think they know too much, who consider themselves supremely intelligent, who speak in grand terms without any real qualifications or notable position, who try to diminish others even through outright lies, who pontificate without knowledge, who speak to you in such a manner that you begin to doubt your own confidence—I would advise you to absolutely, absolutely, and absolutely avoid such people. They themselves cannot go very far in life, nor will they allow you to go very far either.

(Written 2-3 years ago)

I have been meaning to write this piece for at least the past four years. Due to my characteristic laziness, it remained buried among my lost writings all this time. Unable to let it slip away entirely, I have resolved today to begin writing with the firm determination that, no matter how difficult it becomes, I will not leave this chair until it is finished. The trouble with not writing when one should is that the emotion and enthusiasm of that moment are lost, and often the writing fails to come alive. However, there are many exceptions to this. Sanjibchandra Chattopadhyay, the elder brother of Bankimchandra Chattopadhyay, worked for quite some time as a Deputy Magistrate in the exquisitely beautiful, remote forest region of Palamau. Many years later, he wrote ‘Palamau,’ a work born of memory and reflection. For those who have not yet read ‘Palamau,’ I will say just one thing to convey what kind of writing it is: when Bishwa Sahitya Kendra began its publishing work, everyone at the center was perplexed about which among so many masterpieces of world literature should be printed first. It was then that Abdullah Abu Sayeed decided that the first book published by Bishwa Sahitya Kendra would be ‘Palamau.’ But let me return to what I was saying. To discuss why writing intended to be written often never materializes would be to commit great injustice to oneself and others. So I shall not venture into that discussion. However, regarding this particular piece, I will only say this much: when attempting to describe one of life’s most incredible events, my hands tremble with excitement, memories blur, and a fear pervades my entire being—what would today have been like if everything that day had unfolded differently? I keep thinking that today would not have been anything like today. Today I would have been someone else entirely. Everything around me would have seemed like something else altogether. The truth is, life does not unfold the way we imagine it will. Life unfolds as life does. The color of life appears one way in imagination, but the actual color is different. Even if we think we will spend our lives playing with life itself, it does not necessarily follow that life will pass in precisely that manner. What will happen and what will not—all of this is predetermined. Our task is simply to perform brilliantly on this stage in our own way. The more skillful one’s performance, the more intimately one tastes the flavor of life.

The 30th BCS written examination began on January 11, 2011, and concluded on January 23. On the evening of Wednesday the 12th, I checked the IBA website at Dhaka University and discovered that I was among those who had passed the written portion of the MBA program admission test for the 45th batch. The candidates who passed the written exam would be divided into several groups for interviews, and my group was scheduled for Monday, January 17, at 10 AM at IBA. I had taken the BCS examination from Chittagong, where the PSC-designated examination center for Chittagong candidates was Omar Gani MES College. On the day of my IBA interview, the International Affairs exam was also scheduled to begin at 10 AM. Attending an exam at Dhaka University at the same time was simply impossible. I knew that IBA didn’t offer many second chances. Having secured this opportunity, I couldn’t imagine myself foolish or generous enough to let it slip away. Instead of studying for the next day’s Bangladesh Affairs Paper I, I began calling everyone I knew who had studied at IBA or was familiar with it. I still remember the intense excitement of that time. When something you desperately want comes within reach, yet circumstances force you to let it go—staying calm in such a moment is nearly impossible. Everyone I spoke with on the phone said the same thing: “You can’t have two good things at once. You’ll have to give up one of them. If you try to keep a foot in both boats, you’ll end up with neither. Besides, you can take the BCS exam again, and you can also take the IBA admission test again. Let go of one.” Those who valued the corporate sector highly told me to abandon BCS. Those who valued the civil service told me to pursue IBA later. No one could suggest a way to manage both. At that moment, neither option seemed bigger or smaller to me—my mind had gone completely blank, and I felt as though life was playing a game of Snakes and Ladders with me. The dice might roll such a number that I’d end up in the belly of a snake—but then again, it might not. Sometimes the number that comes up sends you climbing a ladder high above. Life’s Snakes and Ladders board doesn’t contain only snakes—there are ladders too! Who’s to say this throw won’t land on a ladder? Life is indeed like Snakes and Ladders, where the highest number isn’t necessarily the best. Perhaps I’d roll two sixes and then a five—totaling seventeen, the highest possible—yet still end up sliding down a long snake. But equally possible: rolling the smallest number, just one, and finding myself climbing rapidly up a ladder to great heights. Understanding the game of less is the most difficult thing of all! The highest number isn’t always the best. You must see how much is actually needed. Great income, great torment—what need is there for such a large sum? Knowing how to choose the right number for your life is a great art indeed!

I thought, why should I surrender before I’ve even lost? I’ll see this through to the end. At home, my parents were also saying, “Give up one of them.” My heart was telling me, “I won’t give up, not for anything!” Let me gamble with life this once and see what happens! You have to listen to your heart. I called the MBA Program Office. Zakir bhai was in charge there. He said, “IBA’s schedule doesn’t change for anyone. You change your schedule.” I said, “That’s not possible. You have several slots. BCS has only one.” Even after that he said, “It’s not possible in any way. We’re sorry!” Saying this, he hung up the phone, and my stubbornness only grew stronger. I put aside studying for the next day’s exam. After some inquiries, I learned that Rahi Sir was the Program Chairman for IBA’s MBA at the time. Only he could change my interview slot if he wanted to. Rahi Sir is an incredibly fierce person. IBA’s Marketing Department is the best in Bangladesh. Rahi Sir is the best faculty in that department. I got his number. The person I got the number from asked, “Are you really going to call Rahi Sir?” “Yes. Why?” “We students never dare to call Sir. And you’re going to call him for this?” “I will. I have to. My back is against the wall.” “God bless you, man! You better think twice.” I said, “Sometimes life doesn’t give you the opportunity to think twice. It’s the first and the only chance! I must grab it before it’s too late! I will call him. I’ll make my attempt—if it works, it works; if not, so be it. If I don’t try, it definitely won’t work. Thank you, bhai!” Right after finishing that conversation, without any second thoughts, I called Rahi Sir. A man with an extremely serious voice. It’s frightening just to speak with him. But I have nothing left to lose. I only know this: I passed IBA’s written exam and IBA has to conduct my interview. I had truly become reckless. I blurted out my entire problem in one breath. Rahi Sir said, “You silly kid! You’ve dared to call Rahi Sir for this! Did you think I am your friend? It’s not my business whether you can attend the viva board or not. You have only 2 choices: Leave IBA, or, Leave BCS.” To my infinite amazement, I heard myself saying, “Sir, I have called you to hear about the third choice. If you don’t have that, please make it for me. I know I’ll be at IBA.” Sir said very loudly over the phone, “You are a stupid little boy. You just know nothing about the things here! Don’t waste my time. I am busy!” “Sir, please give me a chance. I am………” I couldn’t make him hear any more—he hung up before that. I couldn’t understand what had happened, only felt an even stronger desire to believe that I would definitely study at IBA. BCS seemed to fade for a moment. Whatever happens in tomorrow’s exam will happen. Right now I need to sort out the IBA situation first. I called the program office again.

I asked, “When can I actually meet Rahi sir?” “What do you mean?” “Sir told me to come see him.” “Ask sir himself when you can actually meet him.” (I mustered the courage to lie….) “Sir said to call the program office and find out.” “He told you to ask us? Really! Alright, stay on the line, let me check sir’s class schedule.” Zakir bhai informed me that if I came next Friday evening, I could meet sir. Saying “thank you very much,” I hung up the phone and immediately left home to buy a bus ticket. From near Gariullah Shah’s shrine in Chittagong, I bought a ticket on Unique’s non-AC bus to Dhaka for Thursday night. The next day, under tremendous mental pressure, I took my Bangladesh Studies Paper 1 exam. Even in the exam hall, my mind kept racing: “Will Rahi sir keep his word?” In my answer sheet, I mistakenly wrote the word “Rahi” several times, though I crossed it out later.

I arrived at IBA before afternoon on Friday. I stood waiting in front of the MBA Program Office. Zakir bhai wasn’t there at the time—he came in the evening, two hours later. I went up and introduced myself. “Oh, I see, you’ve come from Chittagong. Rahi sir mentioned he would speak with you about changing your interview schedule? Really??” “Yes, he told me to come see him!” We were talking when Rahi sir arrived shortly after. He went straight through the program office into his room. A dignified man of serious disposition. His office was right next to the program office. Zakir bhai said, “Please sit on the sofa. Let me ask sir if he’s free right now.” When he told sir, “Someone named Sushanta Pal has come from Chittagong to see you—you had asked him to come,” sir immediately shouted quite loudly, “I didn’t ask anyone to come see me! Tell him to leave. Disgusting!” Zakir bhai told me, “Sir won’t see you. You should go.” “I’ll leave, but only after meeting with sir. Brother, I haven’t come here to turn back. I must see him.” Almost forcefully, I entered sir’s room without permission. After I said very politely, “Assalamu alaikum, sir,” he returned the greeting and said, “What do you want?” There were several other students in the room who had come to sir for various matters. “Sir, I called you the day before yesterday evening.” “Is it my duty to remember your call? Get out!” I said nothing and stood there with my head bowed. The words “Get out!” didn’t register in my mind. At that moment, I only knew that I would speak with Rahi sir about changing the schedule, and sir would surely agree to do so. After standing like this for nearly half an hour, sir said, “Why are you standing here like a statue?” I fearfully placed an application about changing the time slot on sir’s desk and began to say, “Sir, the day before yesterday I spoke with you on the phone…” “Speak in the language I am using now.” “Sir, my interview has been scheduled for next Monday at 10 in the morning. I am appearing for the 30th BCS written exam. I have an exam at the same time. So, I request you to shift my schedule to another convenient time slot.” “Sorry, we cannot.” “Please Sir! Otherwise, my dream to be here will be shattered.” “Let it be. Just go for BCS. You will do better being a civil servant.” “But Sir, it’s uncertain.” “Is being here certain for you?” “No Sir, that’s why I cannot leave any of these 2 opportunities. Please Sir, give me a chance. Do me a favour. I will be ever grateful, Sir.” “What time is your exam?” “10 o’clock, sir.” “How long?” “Three hours, sir.” “Okay fine, come straight here after your exam. Can you make it by 1:30?” I realized sir had forgotten that I’d come from Chittagong. “Sir, I’m taking the exam from Chittagong.” “Stupid! We cannot change our schedule for you! Are you Mr President?” “No Sir, I just want to be your student! I will do anything you tell me to do. Please give me a chance, Sir!” “Look, brother, you won’t be able to finish your exam at 1 o’clock and come from Chittagong to take the interview anyway.

You won’t make it even if you leave at 10 PM. The roads are in terrible condition, there’s heavy traffic.” “Sir, I can come in the evening.” “How? By plane?” “Yes, sir. Please give me a chance, sir.” “Alright. Don’t you have an exam the next day?” “I do, sir. I can manage. I’ll buy a return ticket.” “What time can you arrive?” “Whatever you say, sir.” “Your exam will end at 1 PM. Hmm… okay, can you make it to the 3 o’clock board?” “Yes sir, I can be there at 3.” “Do you know if there are flights at that time?” “I don’t know, sir. I’ll find out.” “I think there’s a flight around 3.” “What time can you arrive?” “4 o’clock, sir?” “Foolish boy! Your brain isn’t working. How can you take a 3 o’clock flight from Chittagong and get from the airport to IBA by 4? You have no idea about Dhaka city. Okay, you come by 5:15 sharp. You will be last person in that board. If you come after that, nothing can be done. The evening board is for Executive MBA. It won’t be possible to hold your viva there. Okay?” “Thank you, sir.” “Youngman, you have decided to play with your life! Best of luck!” “Please pray for me, sir. I can do this!” Tears came to my eyes. I realized that though this man appeared stern on the outside, he was very gentle within. I offered many prayers for the sir and left IBA. I went to Aziz and bought some books. Then I went to Fakirapul and took the 10 PM non-AC bus from Unique, reaching Chittagong in the morning.

I’m sharing the application with you:

15 January 2011

The Program Director, MBA Program

Institute of Business Administration

University of Dhaka

Dhaka

Subject: Prayer for changing the time slot of the interview schedule of the MBA Program Admission

Sir,

This letter expresses my earnest request to change my interview schedule of the MBA Program Admission 2010-2011. I am a candidate for Full-Time Course, my admit number is 2745 and I am on Interview Board 6 scheduled to be conducted at the 10:00 am to 1:00 pm time slot on January 17, 2011. I am appearing at the 30th BCS written examination and my Examination Centre is at Chittagong. I have an examination on January 17, 2011, coincided with the same time slot of the interview and so it is not possible for me to come from Chittagong and attend the interview at 10:00 am.

I will be highly obliged if you kindly permit me to attend the interview at the 6:00 pm to 8:30 pm time slot scheduled for Evening Board 3 and Evening Board 4 on January 17, 2011.

Yours faithfully

Sushanta Paul

I had never been on a plane before. I thought that wherever you go, you need a passport to fly. My elder brother called a friend who works with passport services and asked what documents are needed for an emergency passport to Dhaka. He burst out laughing! He said, “Buddy, what do you need a passport for? A plane and a bus are the same thing. One flies in the sky, the other runs on the road. That’s all there is to it! Just go buy a ticket. That’s it! Which one is good? You can go with GMG. That’s pretty good.” I didn’t know that you don’t have to rush to the airport to buy a plane ticket. I had no idea how much tickets cost. Getting off the bus in the morning, I went straight to a Dutch-Bangla Bank booth and withdrew ten thousand taka. Then I jumped into a CNG and rushed to the airport. I bought a ticket from the GMG Airlines counter for the 3:20 flight on Monday, the 17th. That was the first Chittagong-Dhaka flight of the afternoon. I booked a return ticket for the same day on the 7:45 evening flight. I felt like I could see it right before my eyes—me attending classes at IBA! Such a strange vision! I returned home with a victorious smile, almost as if I had already gotten into IBA! At night, I tried to prepare from various guides and the internet about what they might ask in the IBA interview. I studied for about 4-5 hours. At the same time, I posted a status on Facebook: How much time does it take to reach Dhaka University from Dhaka International Airport? Is it possible to reach in 40 minutes? Friends, any suggestion, please? I was truly a very simple person back then. I saw the world in very simple terms. Since I hadn’t visited Dhaka much, I didn’t know that in 2011 it wasn’t possible to get from the airport to Shahbag in 40 minutes. Everyone was saying it would take a minimum of two hours to get from the airport to the university campus in the afternoon. All sorts of bizarre comments came in reply to my status. Many started making fun of me. I’ll share some of my friends’ suggestions: “It’s possible if you run.” “It would be great if you jogged to the university. You’d get your evening exercise too!” “You shouldn’t have bought that plane ticket! With that money, if you had thrown us a party, we all would have prayed together and your BCS would have worked out! Hahahaha…..” “Young man! You’re young, just run as soon as you get off the plane! You’ll see, you’ll reach before time!” “Listen, such-and-such bus runs on such-and-such route. Hanging and sleeping, you’ll reach IBA just fine!” I got many such absurd comments. I knew absolutely nothing about Dhaka then. When you’re in trouble, doesn’t everyone have to give you a kick? It began to feel like that’s just how life is! People can’t extend a hand to pull you up, but they can certainly extend a foot to kick you down! Without getting the least bit discouraged by anyone’s words, I kept waiting to see if someone would give some good advice. I didn’t react to anyone’s reply that day. How helplessly calm a person becomes when in trouble. All I knew was this: “I’m giving my IBA interview on the 17th.” One person wrote, “You can go by bike. There’s no faster way to reach the university campus.” Some people even supported that idea. A few mentioned taxi cabs. Support was strongest for the bike option. Up until then, I had ridden a bike maybe 2-3 times in my entire life, counting generously. I didn’t really know anyone in Dhaka who had a bike, or if I did know someone, my mind wasn’t working at all then. Sometimes I think now, alas!

I couldn’t even afford to manage a bike at that time. I wrote, “My flight is scheduled to land at Dhaka Airport at 4.10 pm on 17 January. I must reach Dhaka University at or before 5.15 pm. I’ve an interview at IBA at that time. . . . Can’t I do it? Is it not possible? I need to do it at any cost. As I don’t know about the routes of Dhaka City, I’m asking for your help. Dhaka City is an unknown city to me. Can a taxi cab help me reach there in 1 hour? I can’t be late, otherwise I’ll miss the interview schedule. I’ve managed that schedule today through an application. . . Can a bike be a better solution? Or, something else? I’m in great trouble. . . .” After posting this, the mocking and laughter began all over again. I replied to the distinguished gentleman (one of Bangladesh’s most successful businessmen) who had advised me to jog there: “Thank you Sir for you ‘jogging’ suggestion. I was also seriously thinking of this option. Yes, I’ll surely manage to reach in time by vehicles, on foot, again by vehicles, again on foot . . . . And, I’ll go. I’ll be there in time by any means.” Someone said, “Change the schedule once more.” I wrote, “The schedule can’t be changed! Hopefully, there will happen some miracle and I’ll manage to avail the schedule in time.” A younger brother wrote, “Brother, you should go by taxi-cab. But you could try the bus once. Dhaka buses run quite well!” I replied, “Brother, I’m not surely making any attempt of getting on a bus! That’ll be horrible, you know. I was just seeking for a suggestion as I don’t know about the route. Thanks for the suggestion. I think a CNG powered taxi can help me in this regard. A taxi-cab is prone to getting stuck up in the congestion forever. A bike could be a better solution. But, I can’t manage it.”

Mrs. Zohra, whose name was Ira—an extremely distinguished lady—commented, “You need a bike?” “That would be wonderful.” “Alright, let me see what I can do.” She was the Deputy Managing Director of ONE Bank. After completing her studies in Chemistry from Chittagong University, she had done her MBA from IBA. She worked in the corporate sector, but there were very few people who didn’t know her. I have a sister. Her name is Sharmin Muiz Khan. At that time, she was one of those rare souls who loved someone as insignificant as me far more than necessary, showered me with affection for no particular reason. She was almost my mother’s age, but I addressed her as ‘tumi’ and she called me ‘tui’. She had studied English Literature at Dhaka University. She particularly loved my writing. She was a business magnate and had connections with many prominent people. I have rarely seen a lady as distinguished, refined, elegant, and utterly graceful as her. She commented, “Bappi, someone needs to grab you and give you a good thrashing. Are you enjoying confusing everyone by calling them all the time? Please stop wasting your time browsing Facebook and concentrate on tomorrow’s exam. Otherwise, you’re calling for another disaster. There is a saying: ‘Que sera, sera’ meaning: Whatever will be, will be. So, pray and try your best. I have given this opinion after a lot of serious thoughts. Please follow it. You will leave here right now. I don’t want to see you making even one more comment! MIRACLES HAPPEN IF YOU BELIEVE IN YOURSELF!” I replied, “Didi, things are that they’re. Things will be that they will be. And, between this two there lie some miracles that we’re never aware of. And, miracles are often stranger than facts. Facts are because they’re. Miracles are because we or someone else wants them to be. That’s the truth!” She called Mrs. Zohra. She said, “Look Ira, my brother has gotten into a bit of trouble. The poor thing is a simple soul, we should do something for him. Can’t you arrange a bike for him?” A little while later, I saw a message from Mrs. Zohra in my inbox: “Please give me your contact number. Regards” I gave it immediately. The call came within seconds. After introducing herself, she said, “You need a bike Monday at 4 PM, right?” “That would be wonderful.” “OK, a bike will be there for you at 4. My colleague Romel will pick you. Alright?” “I am truly, truly grateful. Thank you so very much!” “Let’s get the work done first, then you can thank me. I’m texting you Romel’s number. Take care.” She hung up immediately. I wrote to her: “Life is stranger than fiction, I repeat. From myself, I’ve got much less than I truly deserve. From others, I’ve got much more than I truly deserve. Is it the thing that they call miracle? I don’t know and never try to know. I let miracles happen and thankfully they always happen . . . . . . . Thank you for your generous approach. This really means a lot to me.” I wrote my piece. I don’t know if she ever read it or had the time to read it. Noble souls don’t wait for thanks. Besides, she was truly, truly busy.

He was the head of the credit section at One Bank. He had no reason to know a nobody like me, yet he knew me through my writing. Otherwise, I would never have had the privilege of speaking with him directly. And the fact that Sharmin didi had spoken to him about me—that was a big deal too. The next day was the Bangladesh Affairs Paper 2 exam. I went to sleep without studying any of it. The day after, straight from the exam hall, I went to the Westex showroom at Probortak intersection. My life’s first interview. I was incredibly excited! I had decided I’d go to the interview board wearing everything brand new. I bought a formal white shirt, black pants, black tie, black belt, black socks, white undershirt, and brown shoes. Later, from Gallery Apex I bought formal Oxford shoes, and from Time Zone a Titan wristwatch, then returned home in the evening. Seeing my antics, Ma was laughing. “Ma, why are you laughing?” “Just because, dear.” The funny thing was, Ma went with me to the exam hall every single day. She always kept me close, just like a child. Ma said, “Tomorrow I’m going to the airport with you.” And she did go—despite my protests.

Monday, the 17th. International Affairs exam. I couldn’t stay in the exam hall for the entire time due to nerves. I don’t have a car, what if the CNG takes too long to reach the airport! What if I miss the flight! The flight was at 3:20. And it takes at least 2 hours to reach the airport from Omar Gani MES College by 1 PM. Our written exam had been during winter. In the bitter cold, my fingers would freeze. Still, I kept rubbing my palms together to warm them, blowing hot breath into the hollow of my cupped hands, and wrote with all my strength. Instead of 1 o’clock, I finished the exam at 12:30, submitted my paper, and rushed out. When I emerged from the hall and reached the gate, everyone thought I must have been expelled! The intense stress was clearly written all over my face. Many showed me sympathy, told me not to worry, advised me to do better in the next BCS. I didn’t have time to respond. What could I say anyway—at that moment, life itself was one giant question mark for me! I don’t know what strength possessed my mother. She ran almost twice as fast as me, covering the distance from the college campus to the road. We got into a CNG without bargaining, paying nearly one and a half times the normal fare. I told the driver, “However you manage it, get us to the airport within two hours. If necessary, I’ll pay you extra.” It was 12:50 on the clock. The CNG started speeding. Mother opened the tiffin box and fed me khichuri, meat, and fried egg. One thought kept spinning in my head: “Will I catch the plane? If we get stuck in traffic, it’s all over!” I took off my sweater. I had left home that morning wearing my viva outfit, everything except the tie. After escaping two minor traffic jams, when we reached the airport, it was 5 minutes to 3. As soon as I got down, I touched my mother’s and aunt’s feet in respect (a distant aunt had come with us since mother couldn’t return home from the airport alone) and ran to the counter. There I learned that the flight was delayed by an hour due to dense fog. I thought, if the plane leaves at that time, there’s no way I can reach IBA by 5:15. I informed the counter staff about this. They said there was nothing they could do; they were very sorry. I inquired and learned that no other flights were departing at that time either. At that moment, I felt utterly helpless, just wanting to cry. I felt like I had no one, no one at all! I kept going from counter to counter. I found out there was a Bangladesh Biman flight departing at 3:45. There was no other flight before that. It was a bigger plane, taking 30 minutes to reach, whereas other planes take at least 40 minutes. Meaning, I would reach Dhaka airport by 4:15! I bought the ticket right then. There was great hope in my heart—if this one leaves on time, there’s nothing more to worry about. I went to the airport restroom and quickly put on my tie. I adjusted my shirt once more. Looking in the mirror, I fixed my hair with my hand. The clock hand crossed 4 after passing 3:45. The plane was delayed due to fog. We all boarded the plane at 4:15. It was my first time on a plane. I kept thinking, when will it take off, when will it take off! Every second felt like an hour! The tension was making it hard to breathe, yet the plane wouldn’t take off. I thought, oh! If only I could spend all my strength to make this plane soar into the sky! I pressed my handkerchief over my eyes to hide my tears. Finally, the plane took off. It was 4:37 on the clock. I was thinking, oh!

The plane could have taken off directly without taxiing! At least a couple of minutes would have been saved! The plane landed on Dhaka’s runway at 5:13.

I burst out of the domestic terminal running with all my might, and gasping for breath, I saw a motorcycle come to a stop right in front of me. “You’re Sushanta, right? Get on the back!” I extended my hand to shake hands with the young man in the black helmet. He didn’t raise his black-gloved right fist for a handshake. “Time’s wasting, brother! Please get on! Quick!” I didn’t argue further. “You’re not used to riding bikes, are you?” “Yes. How did you know?” “Brother, I’ve been riding bikes for the past 18-20 years. I can tell.” “I see.” “Lean forward and press your chest firmly against my back! You can even wrap your arms around me, otherwise you’ll get thrown off. For sure! I’m going to ride fast.” The way that bike tore out of the airport—I don’t have the courage to even think about it today. Under normal circumstances, I might have screamed in fear and told him to stop, or I really would have been thrown off. But at that moment I knew that being afraid was important, but far more important was reaching IBA alive. I don’t know if the wheels of that 150cc bike actually touched the ground that day, but for the second time in my life I understood this truth: you cannot frighten someone who stakes their life to touch their dreams. I had only seen bikes racing so recklessly on the roads in movies. The bike was literally cutting through the whooshing sound of wind, as if flying through the air! “Say brother, are you somebody really important?” “What do you mean?” “Well, Madam told me that one of her very important friends had to be delivered from the airport to IBA within half an hour, no matter what. That was her order! Who are you, brother? Hahahaha………” “I’m Madam’s Facebook friend.” “What are you saying, man? How’s that possible! I was thinking even more… you mean you’ve never even met her?” “No, brother. Why?” (There’s a railway crossing ahead. The barrier is coming down.) “Brother, duck your head a little.” Saying this, he quickly rode the bike under the barrier without obeying the signal. Many people behind us were shouting for us to stop. “Brother, just don’t be afraid. Nothing will happen. You can close your eyes if you want.” Right at that moment, while quickly emerging from between two trucks standing side by side, he said, “Sit a bit smaller, brother!” A little further ahead—massive traffic jam at a signal! Romel bhai lifted the bike onto the sidewalk. “Brother, please give way a little, give way a little,” he kept saying as he raced forward. He had to do this several times. Sometimes when riding on the central divider in the middle of the road, traffic police would catch us, and he’d say in a tearful voice, “Sir, my aunt is fighting for her life in the medical college. I’m going to donate blood. O-negative blood—we can’t find any. If I don’t reach on time, we won’t be able to save my aunt, sir!” He’d manage the police with this story and then race off at the same speed again! Whenever there was a traffic jam on the road, he’d immediately change to another road. That day I learned that when obstacles appear on the road, it doesn’t mean there is no road. Rather, it means you have to take a different road! Right now!! I had only seen such daredevil biking in Hollywood action movies. Looking at my hair in the bike’s mirror, it seemed as if it had stood up straight after an electric shock! My face was covered with dust from the city. In the fierce wind, my tie was flying behind me in the air. I don’t know if anyone has ever seen a bike race so recklessly through Dhaka’s roads during rush hour. But for some reason, I truly wasn’t afraid at all. I kept thinking over and over, “How quickly can one reach IBA!” Romel bhai had finished his honors and master’s from Dhaka College before joining the bank. I had asked him, “What’s your designation at the bank?” He had joked, “Not much, just 14 more promotions and I’ll be able to sit in Zohra Madam’s chair. Hahaha…….”

When I arrived in front of IBA, my watch showed 5:52. As I got down, I saw my younger brother Pappu and his friend Arefin standing there. At that time, I had my gift shop ‘Dobhana.’ Pappu and Arefin were my working partners. They often came to Dhaka from Chawk Bazaar in Old Dhaka to buy wholesale goods for the shop. I had withdrawn myself from the shop to focus on my BCS exam preparation. They ran everything. They were already in Dhaka on shop business. I had told them to go to the IBA MBA program office and keep me updated by phone about the viva board situation. Through repeated conversations with them, I was checking whether the interview board was still there, asking them to go to the program office and explain that I couldn’t arrive on time due to flight delays, terrible traffic jams, and so on. As soon as I got down, they informed me, “Bhaiya, the board left 4-5 minutes ago. Now only the Executive MBA viva remains.” After introducing them to Romel bhai, I rushed up to the MBA program office on the second floor. As soon as they saw me, everyone there stopped their work and looked at me. I saw Rahi Sir busy with something; he didn’t respond to my greeting. “Sir, I’m very late. Despite trying hard, I couldn’t arrive on time. I…” Without giving me a chance to say anything more, he shouted, “You Idiot! Get out!” “Sir, I…” “I said, Get out! Out! Out!! I knew very well that you wouldn’t be able to come on time. Is it possible to take one exam in Chittagong and then come to Dhaka for another exam? That easy? You’ve just wasted my time! I had told everyone that a boy from Chittagong would come at 5:15, and we needed to take his viva. Did you think I am a joker?” “Sir, I came here with great difficulty. The flight was delayed, there was heavy traffic on the road. I really…” “It’s none of my business! Get out! Go back where you came from.” “Sir, I had many dreams of studying at IBA.” “Everyone on the street has such dreams. I gave you a chance but you missed it. That’s all! Get out of here.” “Sir, please have some mercy…” (I felt like falling at his feet and crying…) Right beside him sat a gentle-looking gentleman much younger than the sir. He said, “Sir, I’ve heard about him. His younger brother kept coming to our program office. They had been standing in front of the office for hours. His flight was indeed delayed. And there’s heavy traffic in Dhaka today too. A friend of mine came to my room from the airport a while ago; it took him a long time to get here too. Give him a chance, Sir. He’s come so far, taking such risks with great difficulty! He apparently has another written exam tomorrow too. The poor fellow has to return to Chittagong today itself.” “Son, you junior faculty members don’t even know what you’re saying, what kind of requests you make. Why are you pleading for him? Is he your relative or something?” “No no Sir, I’m seeing him for the first time today. Just look at his face once, Sir. He’s really come here with great difficulty. Please do him a favor, Sir.” “You have no idea what you are talking about! Will the Executive MBA viva be the same as theirs? They have 3 years of job experience, while these are just children in comparison!

“This won’t be possible, brother. I am sorry!” “Sir, please help the poor fellow a bit. He’s come such a long way with so much hope!” “Son, we can’t manage anything more for you!” I stood a little distance away, head bowed. Looking at me, he called out loudly, “Hey, stupid! Why are you standing there like a donkey? Go on, go to the third floor! Go and stand there absolutely quietly. We’ll call you.” I truly couldn’t understand whether such a beautiful moment had ever come anywhere in this world before! Tears began streaming down my face. I prayed again and again from my heart for Babu sir. Rahi sir seemed like a father figure to me. I kept remembering mother’s words: “Never get angry at teachers’ scolding. When teachers scold, it means blessings.” Overwhelmed with emotion, as I was about to leave after thanking and saluting the teachers, Rahi sir called from behind, “Hey crazy boy! Comb your hair before entering the board! Wash your face at the basin! Don’t be so scared! Hahaha…” I couldn’t say anything more. I kept staring blankly at sir’s face. My cheeks were wet with tears from both eyes. Babu sir placed his hand on my shoulder and said, “Go on, go upstairs and wait. We are not that much bad people as you thought us to be. Sometimes even the IBA faculties are too good! Freshen up, give your interview properly, now there’s no tension anymore. What’s your exam tomorrow?” “Sir, Mathematical Reasoning and Mental Ability.” “How will you go?” “Sir, I have a return plane ticket.” “Good! Brother, splash some water on your eyes and face to fix your appearance. Give your viva quickly and rush to the airport! Good luck!” At that moment I felt like touching sir’s feet in salute. People get frightened by sudden intense love. For the first time, it suddenly struck me: “What if I can’t honor this love of my teachers? What if I don’t get a chance at IBA in the end?”

When we find ourselves in trouble, if our intentions are pure, a way out always emerges! I went to the washroom on the third floor and tried my best to “make myself presentable” by wetting my hair and smoothing it down. After splashing water on my face, I went and waited in front of the notice board. I was called after 10 minutes. It was nearly seven o’clock. When I entered the room, I saw many faculty members seated there. I hadn’t known that so many would be present for an interview. I thought this was perhaps how IBA interviews were conducted. I later learned that this entire panel had been assembled just for me. Apart from Babu Sir and Rahi Sir, I didn’t recognize anyone else. After getting admitted, I realized that those present that evening were IBA’s most senior and accomplished faculty members. The board included Saiful Majid Sir, Shama-e-Zahir Sir, Mamun Sir, Munir Khosru Sir, Niaz Sir, and Saif Noman Khan Sir. Most of the junior faculty had finished their interviews and gone home, while some senior faculty were in their offices conducting Executive MBA interviews. Some of them had been specially called in. I was in the interview for about 18-20 minutes. Many of the faculty members knew about my situation that day. I had heard of something called “divine possession” in life. At certain special moments, due to particular external influences or circumstances, people suddenly gain extraordinary power. In those moments, they step outside their normal state and display different behavior. They can harness the utmost potential of their inner infinite strength. In that wondrous balanced fusion of emotion and capability, the best version of themselves emerges. From the moment I entered the interview room, I had very likely become a different person, or perhaps the very best ‘me’ from within had emerged that day. By what divine signal this happened, I don’t know. No hesitation, doubt, nervousness, fear, the day’s exhaustion, or lethargy was affecting me at all. I felt incredibly composed and light as a feather. It felt as though whatever I was saying or doing was the best possible. I was experiencing the finest moment of my life right then and there. I can say with complete honesty that the style in which I spoke English that day—I have never in my entire life, even to this day, been able to speak English so flawlessly and fluently. That day the faculty members engaged in various kinds of humor during the interview. They were having great fun with me. Most likely, the faculty wanted to “shake me up” somehow. I don’t know why, by whose indication I don’t know, but I kept answering all their questions one by one with a very cool head and a smile that day. They interviewed me in English on various diverse topics, starting from describing the entire day’s events and the preceding Facebook incidents to many other subjects. (Of course, at IBA there’s absolutely no opportunity to give interviews in Bengali.) Why I wanted to pursue an MBA, why IBA if I was going to take government job exams anyway, my weaknesses, whether I’d ever been in love, how I spend my leisure time, some conversation about reading books, various economic issues of Bangladesh, some personal and family matters, my future plans, the breathless motorcycle journey from A to Z, the BCS examination system, why I went into engineering despite having no interest, why I delayed my honors degree, why I didn’t study properly, why my CGPA was so low, what I like to eat, what kind of personality I prefer in people, what I know about IBA, some current affairs, and several other questions. I was answering very quickly in correct English. The faculty praised this too. I gave a very simple, straightforward, and candid interview. I didn’t speak a single false word that day.

I didn’t need to think before speaking—whatever came to mind, I simply said, so there was no chance to fabricate lies. At the end, they asked me to sing a song. When I said, “I can’t, Sir,” Babu Sir showed me my info-form and laughed, saying, “But you’ve claimed so.” I had written Reading, Writing, Singing in the hobbies section… At that moment, it felt like I was living the best day of my life. I sang, “Aaj ei dintake…” “I see, we’re getting a singer for our cultural program!” As Saiful Majid Sir was saying this, Babu Sir interjected, “Sir, he has another exam tomorrow. He’ll probably be flying back to Chittagong tonight.” Then three or four teachers exclaimed in unison, “What! He’s going back to Chittagong right now? Well then, run along, run along! Go downstairs and see if your superman biker is there! Hahahaha…” As I was leaving with my salaam, the teachers called out, “Best of luck for your tomorrow’s exam.” I kept thinking, again and again—I’ll make it, I’ll make it! (Even after giving the BCS viva, I didn’t feel this good.)

When I stepped out of IBA, it was half past seven on the clock. I knew there was no way I could catch the 7:45 flight. I also knew that I had no idea how I would get to Chittagong that night. I didn’t even feel like thinking about it. Only the exhilarating rush of having given a good exam was coursing through me. Pappu and Arefin had been waiting for me at Madhu’s canteen. Taking them along, I went to the front of Dhaka University’s Central Library and leisurely began eating vegetable pakoras and tea. Many of my students studied in various departments at Dhaka University. Quite a few came to see me. They were asking what questions had been asked in the interview. After a day of incredible experiences, my head had become almost entirely empty. I couldn’t understand why I wasn’t feeling the slightest urgency to return to Chittagong. Pappu asked, “Brother, will you take the night bus?” I said, “Yes, that could work.” (It amuses me now to think how casually I had said ‘that could work’!) The road conditions weren’t good then either, there were always traffic jams. It didn’t even occur to me—what would happen if I couldn’t reach by 10 AM tomorrow? Ripon, a dear younger brother who lived in Chittagong and was one of my former students, said, “Brother, I have a non-AC train ticket; for Turna Nishitha, leaving tonight. It doesn’t matter if I don’t go to Chittagong today. Brother, you take it.” “Alright, fine,” I said, took the ticket, and set off toward Kamalapur Station. That night the train left nearly an hour and a half late. I didn’t even want to think about what was going to happen! I had already surrendered myself to fate long before. In my mind I kept repeating only this: whatever will be, will be. Whether I want it or not, it will happen. And whatever is happening is surely for the good; whatever will happen will surely be for the good too. Let’s see! After the day’s exhaustion, I had a very peaceful sleep. Suddenly I woke up hearing commotion around me. The train had stopped at Comilla. Apparently there was some problem with the line. We were delayed there for nearly two and a quarter hours. I couldn’t understand why I wasn’t feeling any kind of anxiety! I fell asleep again. Sleep is the world’s only faithful lover. Whenever I want it, I find it near. Never, under any circumstances, does it abandon me. There can be no purer love than the love for sleep.

When the train reached Chittagong railway station the next day, it was a quarter to ten in the morning. My exam was scheduled to start at ten. It takes only fifteen minutes to get from the station to my house. When I got home, I found my mother sitting there with everything ready in her hands—my pencil box, board, scale, pen, calculator, admit card, registration card, all of it. My parents had been terribly anxious at home. I hadn’t been able to speak to them since after half past one at night. My mobile had run out of charge. (I was using a cheap Nokia 1100 mobile set back then. Everyone called it the “national set”! It was so sturdy that many would joke, “Dude, you could crack jackfruit with that phone!” I’d tease my friends who used expensive mobiles, saying, “My phone’s model is ‘N Eleven Zero Zero’!”) As soon as my mother saw me, she said, “Dear, how are you? Will you take today’s exam?” I felt emotionally numb. It seemed as though I was lighter than a feather at that moment, floating around in some kind of trance! I smiled and said, “Ma, I’m perfectly fine. I’ll take the exam.” Saying this, I took the packed shopping bag from my mother’s hands and left the house just as I was. It was 10:05 on the clock. From our house to the exam center, it takes at least thirty minutes by CNG during office hours. When I reached the college gate, it was 10:43. That day was the mathematical reasoning and mental ability test. The first two hours were mathematical reasoning, followed by one hour of mental ability. The exam had already started forty-three minutes earlier. Naturally, the police wouldn’t let me enter. I pleaded extensively, kept trying futilely to explain what had happened, but they weren’t willing to listen to anything. But I had made up my mind—I wasn’t going to turn back, I would get inside no matter what. A small commotion started gathering there. Seeing the crowd, the magistrate came over. After hearing my entire story, he said, “You only have one hour left. Can you finish all the math problems in this time?” Without a moment’s hesitation, I said, “I can, sir!” “Alright, go ahead. Good luck!” My heart overflowed with gratitude toward him. At that moment, he seemed to me not human, but divine! I went in, looked at the questions, took the exam. I even showed three problems to the person sitting next to me. (He got a job in Audit and Accounts in the 30th batch.) I scored 98 on that day’s exam—50 in math, 48 in mental ability. After that… well, as everyone says—the rest is history!

But this much is true: had that day’s exam been something other than mathematics, I would have been in real trouble. I can handle math because the type of problems that appeared in the BCS written exam back then weren’t particularly difficult for me to solve. Such problems don’t strain the mind much, and the 30th BCS written exam featured relatively easy math. Even if I worked through each step carefully and added side notes, it shouldn’t have taken more than half an hour. It didn’t for me either. However, spending two and a half hours on the International Affairs exam the day before had been risky. Actually, no matter how incredible the whole affair might seem, everything appears to have been predetermined by the Creator or nature itself. What remains inexplicable to our limited understanding is simply a natural, ordinary occurrence for the Creator. All our failures and successes are already decided beforehand. But to reach that point, the effort—or making the right decision at the right time—that we must do ourselves. I wasn’t even supposed to pass my undergraduate degree. Yet it was my destiny to complete my undergraduate studies, become a BCS cadre, study at IBA—all of it was written in my fate. Had my destiny been bound elsewhere, I would have gone there instead. I had enrolled in another master’s program under Dhaka University—MDS. After continuing that course for three months, I left it of my own accord. They had said I would need to officially hide the fact that I was simultaneously pursuing another master’s at IBA. I refused to lie. I harbor no regret about this, though. I’ve accepted that pursuing that particular master’s degree simply wasn’t written in my destiny. This is the truth, this is reality. I had gained admission to Dhaka University’s Evening MBA program in Finance, ranking sixth on the merit list, but never had to attend classes there. I received my IBA admission test results before that. I did complete my master’s in Finance from Dhaka University, but the Evening MBA program wasn’t destined for me, so I didn’t pursue my master’s degree from there.

Stepping into two boats in the middle of a river ensures certain death. Logic dictates this. But I placed my feet in two boats, taking the maximum risk—I had no other choice—yet both boats moved forward in parallel at the same speed at the same time, so I didn’t slip between them and lose my life. What explanation could there be for this? Life doesn’t follow logic; life follows the Creator’s signals. Life doesn’t always operate according to explanations. Sometimes life moves on faith. So there’s nothing to say about anyone’s personal philosophy and the life they live according to their beliefs, as long as that life doesn’t interfere with someone else’s way of living. Somewhere, no explicable form of life can be seen, and life is just like this!

Through sheer mental strength alone, I had believed that some miracle would surely occur. It did happen, because in Providence’s master plan, that’s what was meant to happen. Everything in between was the Creator’s games or plans to test my patience and concentration. You will never be given a gift you don’t deserve. You will be tested, and if you fail to pass that test, you will deprive yourself of the Creator’s grace through your own fault. I’m sharing with you the Facebook status I posted after the IBA admission test results came out, along with a couple of my own comments on it:

Friends, I’ve been finally selected for admission into the MBA Program of IBA, Dhaka University. …… feeling happy. ……. HATS OFF to Sharmeen didi, Ira madam & Romel bhai!!

# My dear friends….. Your gorgeous presence on my wall makes me think twice about the POWER of friendship & the MAGIC of love. YES……… They matter!! I just want to be with you forever. Please never say GOODBYE…. It hurts!! Your kindness and care mean a lot to me. You’ve always given me much more than I really deserve. Please accept my sincere GRATITUDE.

Happy Social Networking!!

Long live Facebook!!

My best wishes for our Friendship!!

……… Love you all ……

# (To one of my close friends) Dost, not reaching the Interview Session on 17 January at 5:30 pm was what I thought to be….. reaching there in time was what was written in my DESTINY….. And, I ended up calling it a MIRACLE, something I never believed in before…… Just have a look at the schedule of 17 January……

International Affairs Exam (BCS written exam)…. 10:00 am — 1:00 pm

The departure time of the GMG Airlines: 3:20 pm, there was a delay of about 1 hour due to fog and I availed another delayed flight of Bangladesh Biman at 4:37 pm.

The plane landed on Dhaka Airport at 5:13 pm and then I started my fight against time to meet the deadline by bike with Romel bhai!! Who managed those three saviours (Sharmeen didi, Ira madam & Romel bhai) for me? I don’t know. You better ask the Heaven! I saw such a breath-taking motor-bike driving only in English movies. Before that day, I had never thought I would experience it!!

Life is sometimes stranger than fiction . . . . Who can tell it better than I?

# (To one of my senior high-profile Indian friends) Thank you Sir for your words of felicitation. IBA of Dhaka University is considered as the most prestigious institute for doing MBA in Bangladesh. As per the rules of that Business School, the Major/Field of Specialization is allowed to be chosen at the final semester judging the academic records & intention of a candidate. I don’t have much idea about what to choose and why to choose. Please share some ideas on it as you’ve huge practical knowledge (so far as I know) about the present corporate trend.

You’ve nicely stated the trend of our careerist B-school graduates. No one really cares about their own aptitude, rather, tries to be what market wants them to be. Personally, I always like the decision-making and mainstream operational sections of giant companies. And, probably I’ll go for finance as my major when I’ve to choose it in my final semester. Yes, my semester results must be well enough to work on my advantage. That’ll be a story of one and a half years later. Till then, I’ll have to undergo the generalized curriculum as my B-school formulates. The recent economic recession worries our friends studying at the US universities. And, almost all of them suggest me not to plan of staying there. But at the same time, they suggest me completing my PhD in the US if I want to and grab that opportunity. Let’s wait and see. . . . . Are you in India now? Hope you’re quite OK along with your busy schedule. Please, sometimes give me your valuable suggestions when you’ve time and you’re here on Facebook. . . . . Thank you once again for your helpful advice. Take care.

In explaining the final part of the status shared above, I had written these words:

Let me share the Story behind the Story and elucidate the last part of my status. It would have been quite impossible for me to reach Dhaka University from Dhaka International Airport within just 50 minutes (!!) to attend the interview session of IBA in time on Jan 17, but for the cordial help of Sharmeen didi (Sharmeen Muiz) & Ira madam (Johora Bebe Ira). They’re the persons who made that miracle happen!! And, Romel bhai (Monirul Alam Romel) is the “Man with the Bike” who dared fight against time to meet the deadline!! ……. I feel honoured to express my heartfelt gratitude to these three saviours. …….. Miracles Happen When You Believe!!

I conclude this piece with a beautifully strange comment Sharmeen didi made on that status: “My prayers, good wishes, and prayers remain with you. Dear brother of mine, may you grow to great heights. And may the successful reflection of our efforts (Ira’s and mine) shine through in everything you do. I was there, I am here, I will be there. …….. Heaps of hugs and love.”

What sustains a human being? We live on love, on prayers, on good wishes. These are what keep me alive—quite well alive, in fact. My gratitude!

P.S. Let me offer you some practical wisdom. Those who think they know too much, who consider themselves supremely intelligent, who speak in grand terms without any real qualifications or notable position, who try to diminish others even through outright lies, who pontificate without knowledge, who speak to you in such a manner that you begin to doubt your own confidence—I would advise you to absolutely, absolutely, and absolutely avoid such people. They themselves cannot go very far in life, nor will they allow you to go very far either.

(Written 2-3 years ago)

I had never been on a plane before. I thought that wherever you go, you need a passport to fly. My elder brother called a friend who works with passport services and asked what documents are needed for an emergency passport to Dhaka. He burst out laughing! He said, “Buddy, what do you need a passport for? A plane and a bus are the same thing. One flies in the sky, the other runs on the road. That’s all there is to it! Just go buy a ticket. That’s it! Which one is good? You can go with GMG. That’s pretty good.” I didn’t know that you don’t have to rush to the airport to buy a plane ticket. I had no idea how much tickets cost. Getting off the bus in the morning, I went straight to a Dutch-Bangla Bank booth and withdrew ten thousand taka. Then I jumped into a CNG and rushed to the airport. I bought a ticket from the GMG Airlines counter for the 3:20 flight on Monday, the 17th. That was the first Chittagong-Dhaka flight of the afternoon. I booked a return ticket for the same day on the 7:45 evening flight. I felt like I could see it right before my eyes—me attending classes at IBA! Such a strange vision! I returned home with a victorious smile, almost as if I had already gotten into IBA! At night, I tried to prepare from various guides and the internet about what they might ask in the IBA interview. I studied for about 4-5 hours. At the same time, I posted a status on Facebook: How much time does it take to reach Dhaka University from Dhaka International Airport? Is it possible to reach in 40 minutes? Friends, any suggestion, please? I was truly a very simple person back then. I saw the world in very simple terms. Since I hadn’t visited Dhaka much, I didn’t know that in 2011 it wasn’t possible to get from the airport to Shahbag in 40 minutes. Everyone was saying it would take a minimum of two hours to get from the airport to the university campus in the afternoon. All sorts of bizarre comments came in reply to my status. Many started making fun of me. I’ll share some of my friends’ suggestions: “It’s possible if you run.” “It would be great if you jogged to the university. You’d get your evening exercise too!” “You shouldn’t have bought that plane ticket! With that money, if you had thrown us a party, we all would have prayed together and your BCS would have worked out! Hahahaha…..” “Young man! You’re young, just run as soon as you get off the plane! You’ll see, you’ll reach before time!” “Listen, such-and-such bus runs on such-and-such route. Hanging and sleeping, you’ll reach IBA just fine!” I got many such absurd comments. I knew absolutely nothing about Dhaka then. When you’re in trouble, doesn’t everyone have to give you a kick? It began to feel like that’s just how life is! People can’t extend a hand to pull you up, but they can certainly extend a foot to kick you down! Without getting the least bit discouraged by anyone’s words, I kept waiting to see if someone would give some good advice. I didn’t react to anyone’s reply that day. How helplessly calm a person becomes when in trouble. All I knew was this: “I’m giving my IBA interview on the 17th.” One person wrote, “You can go by bike. There’s no faster way to reach the university campus.” Some people even supported that idea. A few mentioned taxi cabs. Support was strongest for the bike option. Up until then, I had ridden a bike maybe 2-3 times in my entire life, counting generously. I didn’t really know anyone in Dhaka who had a bike, or if I did know someone, my mind wasn’t working at all then. Sometimes I think now, alas!

I couldn’t even afford to manage a bike at that time. I wrote, “My flight is scheduled to land at Dhaka Airport at 4.10 pm on 17 January. I must reach Dhaka University at or before 5.15 pm. I’ve an interview at IBA at that time. . . . Can’t I do it? Is it not possible? I need to do it at any cost. As I don’t know about the routes of Dhaka City, I’m asking for your help. Dhaka City is an unknown city to me. Can a taxi cab help me reach there in 1 hour? I can’t be late, otherwise I’ll miss the interview schedule. I’ve managed that schedule today through an application. . . Can a bike be a better solution? Or, something else? I’m in great trouble. . . .” After posting this, the mocking and laughter began all over again. I replied to the distinguished gentleman (one of Bangladesh’s most successful businessmen) who had advised me to jog there: “Thank you Sir for you ‘jogging’ suggestion. I was also seriously thinking of this option. Yes, I’ll surely manage to reach in time by vehicles, on foot, again by vehicles, again on foot . . . . And, I’ll go. I’ll be there in time by any means.” Someone said, “Change the schedule once more.” I wrote, “The schedule can’t be changed! Hopefully, there will happen some miracle and I’ll manage to avail the schedule in time.” A younger brother wrote, “Brother, you should go by taxi-cab. But you could try the bus once. Dhaka buses run quite well!” I replied, “Brother, I’m not surely making any attempt of getting on a bus! That’ll be horrible, you know. I was just seeking for a suggestion as I don’t know about the route. Thanks for the suggestion. I think a CNG powered taxi can help me in this regard. A taxi-cab is prone to getting stuck up in the congestion forever. A bike could be a better solution. But, I can’t manage it.”

Mrs. Zohra, whose name was Ira—an extremely distinguished lady—commented, “You need a bike?” “That would be wonderful.” “Alright, let me see what I can do.” She was the Deputy Managing Director of ONE Bank. After completing her studies in Chemistry from Chittagong University, she had done her MBA from IBA. She worked in the corporate sector, but there were very few people who didn’t know her. I have a sister. Her name is Sharmin Muiz Khan. At that time, she was one of those rare souls who loved someone as insignificant as me far more than necessary, showered me with affection for no particular reason. She was almost my mother’s age, but I addressed her as ‘tumi’ and she called me ‘tui’. She had studied English Literature at Dhaka University. She particularly loved my writing. She was a business magnate and had connections with many prominent people. I have rarely seen a lady as distinguished, refined, elegant, and utterly graceful as her. She commented, “Bappi, someone needs to grab you and give you a good thrashing. Are you enjoying confusing everyone by calling them all the time? Please stop wasting your time browsing Facebook and concentrate on tomorrow’s exam. Otherwise, you’re calling for another disaster. There is a saying: ‘Que sera, sera’ meaning: Whatever will be, will be. So, pray and try your best. I have given this opinion after a lot of serious thoughts. Please follow it. You will leave here right now. I don’t want to see you making even one more comment! MIRACLES HAPPEN IF YOU BELIEVE IN YOURSELF!” I replied, “Didi, things are that they’re. Things will be that they will be. And, between this two there lie some miracles that we’re never aware of. And, miracles are often stranger than facts. Facts are because they’re. Miracles are because we or someone else wants them to be. That’s the truth!” She called Mrs. Zohra. She said, “Look Ira, my brother has gotten into a bit of trouble. The poor thing is a simple soul, we should do something for him. Can’t you arrange a bike for him?” A little while later, I saw a message from Mrs. Zohra in my inbox: “Please give me your contact number. Regards” I gave it immediately. The call came within seconds. After introducing herself, she said, “You need a bike Monday at 4 PM, right?” “That would be wonderful.” “OK, a bike will be there for you at 4. My colleague Romel will pick you. Alright?” “I am truly, truly grateful. Thank you so very much!” “Let’s get the work done first, then you can thank me. I’m texting you Romel’s number. Take care.” She hung up immediately. I wrote to her: “Life is stranger than fiction, I repeat. From myself, I’ve got much less than I truly deserve. From others, I’ve got much more than I truly deserve. Is it the thing that they call miracle? I don’t know and never try to know. I let miracles happen and thankfully they always happen . . . . . . . Thank you for your generous approach. This really means a lot to me.” I wrote my piece. I don’t know if she ever read it or had the time to read it. Noble souls don’t wait for thanks. Besides, she was truly, truly busy.

He was the head of the credit section at One Bank. He had no reason to know a nobody like me, yet he knew me through my writing. Otherwise, I would never have had the privilege of speaking with him directly. And the fact that Sharmin didi had spoken to him about me—that was a big deal too. The next day was the Bangladesh Affairs Paper 2 exam. I went to sleep without studying any of it. The day after, straight from the exam hall, I went to the Westex showroom at Probortak intersection. My life’s first interview. I was incredibly excited! I had decided I’d go to the interview board wearing everything brand new. I bought a formal white shirt, black pants, black tie, black belt, black socks, white undershirt, and brown shoes. Later, from Gallery Apex I bought formal Oxford shoes, and from Time Zone a Titan wristwatch, then returned home in the evening. Seeing my antics, Ma was laughing. “Ma, why are you laughing?” “Just because, dear.” The funny thing was, Ma went with me to the exam hall every single day. She always kept me close, just like a child. Ma said, “Tomorrow I’m going to the airport with you.” And she did go—despite my protests.

Monday, the 17th. International Affairs exam. I couldn’t stay in the exam hall for the entire time due to nerves. I don’t have a car, what if the CNG takes too long to reach the airport! What if I miss the flight! The flight was at 3:20. And it takes at least 2 hours to reach the airport from Omar Gani MES College by 1 PM. Our written exam had been during winter. In the bitter cold, my fingers would freeze. Still, I kept rubbing my palms together to warm them, blowing hot breath into the hollow of my cupped hands, and wrote with all my strength. Instead of 1 o’clock, I finished the exam at 12:30, submitted my paper, and rushed out. When I emerged from the hall and reached the gate, everyone thought I must have been expelled! The intense stress was clearly written all over my face. Many showed me sympathy, told me not to worry, advised me to do better in the next BCS. I didn’t have time to respond. What could I say anyway—at that moment, life itself was one giant question mark for me! I don’t know what strength possessed my mother. She ran almost twice as fast as me, covering the distance from the college campus to the road. We got into a CNG without bargaining, paying nearly one and a half times the normal fare. I told the driver, “However you manage it, get us to the airport within two hours. If necessary, I’ll pay you extra.” It was 12:50 on the clock. The CNG started speeding. Mother opened the tiffin box and fed me khichuri, meat, and fried egg. One thought kept spinning in my head: “Will I catch the plane? If we get stuck in traffic, it’s all over!” I took off my sweater. I had left home that morning wearing my viva outfit, everything except the tie. After escaping two minor traffic jams, when we reached the airport, it was 5 minutes to 3. As soon as I got down, I touched my mother’s and aunt’s feet in respect (a distant aunt had come with us since mother couldn’t return home from the airport alone) and ran to the counter. There I learned that the flight was delayed by an hour due to dense fog. I thought, if the plane leaves at that time, there’s no way I can reach IBA by 5:15. I informed the counter staff about this. They said there was nothing they could do; they were very sorry. I inquired and learned that no other flights were departing at that time either. At that moment, I felt utterly helpless, just wanting to cry. I felt like I had no one, no one at all! I kept going from counter to counter. I found out there was a Bangladesh Biman flight departing at 3:45. There was no other flight before that. It was a bigger plane, taking 30 minutes to reach, whereas other planes take at least 40 minutes. Meaning, I would reach Dhaka airport by 4:15! I bought the ticket right then. There was great hope in my heart—if this one leaves on time, there’s nothing more to worry about. I went to the airport restroom and quickly put on my tie. I adjusted my shirt once more. Looking in the mirror, I fixed my hair with my hand. The clock hand crossed 4 after passing 3:45. The plane was delayed due to fog. We all boarded the plane at 4:15. It was my first time on a plane. I kept thinking, when will it take off, when will it take off! Every second felt like an hour! The tension was making it hard to breathe, yet the plane wouldn’t take off. I thought, oh! If only I could spend all my strength to make this plane soar into the sky! I pressed my handkerchief over my eyes to hide my tears. Finally, the plane took off. It was 4:37 on the clock. I was thinking, oh!

The plane could have taken off directly without taxiing! At least a couple of minutes would have been saved! The plane landed on Dhaka’s runway at 5:13.

I burst out of the domestic terminal running with all my might, and gasping for breath, I saw a motorcycle come to a stop right in front of me. “You’re Sushanta, right? Get on the back!” I extended my hand to shake hands with the young man in the black helmet. He didn’t raise his black-gloved right fist for a handshake. “Time’s wasting, brother! Please get on! Quick!” I didn’t argue further. “You’re not used to riding bikes, are you?” “Yes. How did you know?” “Brother, I’ve been riding bikes for the past 18-20 years. I can tell.” “I see.” “Lean forward and press your chest firmly against my back! You can even wrap your arms around me, otherwise you’ll get thrown off. For sure! I’m going to ride fast.” The way that bike tore out of the airport—I don’t have the courage to even think about it today. Under normal circumstances, I might have screamed in fear and told him to stop, or I really would have been thrown off. But at that moment I knew that being afraid was important, but far more important was reaching IBA alive. I don’t know if the wheels of that 150cc bike actually touched the ground that day, but for the second time in my life I understood this truth: you cannot frighten someone who stakes their life to touch their dreams. I had only seen bikes racing so recklessly on the roads in movies. The bike was literally cutting through the whooshing sound of wind, as if flying through the air! “Say brother, are you somebody really important?” “What do you mean?” “Well, Madam told me that one of her very important friends had to be delivered from the airport to IBA within half an hour, no matter what. That was her order! Who are you, brother? Hahahaha………” “I’m Madam’s Facebook friend.” “What are you saying, man? How’s that possible! I was thinking even more… you mean you’ve never even met her?” “No, brother. Why?” (There’s a railway crossing ahead. The barrier is coming down.) “Brother, duck your head a little.” Saying this, he quickly rode the bike under the barrier without obeying the signal. Many people behind us were shouting for us to stop. “Brother, just don’t be afraid. Nothing will happen. You can close your eyes if you want.” Right at that moment, while quickly emerging from between two trucks standing side by side, he said, “Sit a bit smaller, brother!” A little further ahead—massive traffic jam at a signal! Romel bhai lifted the bike onto the sidewalk. “Brother, please give way a little, give way a little,” he kept saying as he raced forward. He had to do this several times. Sometimes when riding on the central divider in the middle of the road, traffic police would catch us, and he’d say in a tearful voice, “Sir, my aunt is fighting for her life in the medical college. I’m going to donate blood. O-negative blood—we can’t find any. If I don’t reach on time, we won’t be able to save my aunt, sir!” He’d manage the police with this story and then race off at the same speed again! Whenever there was a traffic jam on the road, he’d immediately change to another road. That day I learned that when obstacles appear on the road, it doesn’t mean there is no road. Rather, it means you have to take a different road! Right now!! I had only seen such daredevil biking in Hollywood action movies. Looking at my hair in the bike’s mirror, it seemed as if it had stood up straight after an electric shock! My face was covered with dust from the city. In the fierce wind, my tie was flying behind me in the air. I don’t know if anyone has ever seen a bike race so recklessly through Dhaka’s roads during rush hour. But for some reason, I truly wasn’t afraid at all. I kept thinking over and over, “How quickly can one reach IBA!” Romel bhai had finished his honors and master’s from Dhaka College before joining the bank. I had asked him, “What’s your designation at the bank?” He had joked, “Not much, just 14 more promotions and I’ll be able to sit in Zohra Madam’s chair. Hahaha…….”

When I arrived in front of IBA, my watch showed 5:52. As I got down, I saw my younger brother Pappu and his friend Arefin standing there. At that time, I had my gift shop ‘Dobhana.’ Pappu and Arefin were my working partners. They often came to Dhaka from Chawk Bazaar in Old Dhaka to buy wholesale goods for the shop. I had withdrawn myself from the shop to focus on my BCS exam preparation. They ran everything. They were already in Dhaka on shop business. I had told them to go to the IBA MBA program office and keep me updated by phone about the viva board situation. Through repeated conversations with them, I was checking whether the interview board was still there, asking them to go to the program office and explain that I couldn’t arrive on time due to flight delays, terrible traffic jams, and so on. As soon as I got down, they informed me, “Bhaiya, the board left 4-5 minutes ago. Now only the Executive MBA viva remains.” After introducing them to Romel bhai, I rushed up to the MBA program office on the second floor. As soon as they saw me, everyone there stopped their work and looked at me. I saw Rahi Sir busy with something; he didn’t respond to my greeting. “Sir, I’m very late. Despite trying hard, I couldn’t arrive on time. I…” Without giving me a chance to say anything more, he shouted, “You Idiot! Get out!” “Sir, I…” “I said, Get out! Out! Out!! I knew very well that you wouldn’t be able to come on time. Is it possible to take one exam in Chittagong and then come to Dhaka for another exam? That easy? You’ve just wasted my time! I had told everyone that a boy from Chittagong would come at 5:15, and we needed to take his viva. Did you think I am a joker?” “Sir, I came here with great difficulty. The flight was delayed, there was heavy traffic on the road. I really…” “It’s none of my business! Get out! Go back where you came from.” “Sir, I had many dreams of studying at IBA.” “Everyone on the street has such dreams. I gave you a chance but you missed it. That’s all! Get out of here.” “Sir, please have some mercy…” (I felt like falling at his feet and crying…) Right beside him sat a gentle-looking gentleman much younger than the sir. He said, “Sir, I’ve heard about him. His younger brother kept coming to our program office. They had been standing in front of the office for hours. His flight was indeed delayed. And there’s heavy traffic in Dhaka today too. A friend of mine came to my room from the airport a while ago; it took him a long time to get here too. Give him a chance, Sir. He’s come so far, taking such risks with great difficulty! He apparently has another written exam tomorrow too. The poor fellow has to return to Chittagong today itself.” “Son, you junior faculty members don’t even know what you’re saying, what kind of requests you make. Why are you pleading for him? Is he your relative or something?” “No no Sir, I’m seeing him for the first time today. Just look at his face once, Sir. He’s really come here with great difficulty. Please do him a favor, Sir.” “You have no idea what you are talking about! Will the Executive MBA viva be the same as theirs? They have 3 years of job experience, while these are just children in comparison!

“This won’t be possible, brother. I am sorry!” “Sir, please help the poor fellow a bit. He’s come such a long way with so much hope!” “Son, we can’t manage anything more for you!” I stood a little distance away, head bowed. Looking at me, he called out loudly, “Hey, stupid! Why are you standing there like a donkey? Go on, go to the third floor! Go and stand there absolutely quietly. We’ll call you.” I truly couldn’t understand whether such a beautiful moment had ever come anywhere in this world before! Tears began streaming down my face. I prayed again and again from my heart for Babu sir. Rahi sir seemed like a father figure to me. I kept remembering mother’s words: “Never get angry at teachers’ scolding. When teachers scold, it means blessings.” Overwhelmed with emotion, as I was about to leave after thanking and saluting the teachers, Rahi sir called from behind, “Hey crazy boy! Comb your hair before entering the board! Wash your face at the basin! Don’t be so scared! Hahaha…” I couldn’t say anything more. I kept staring blankly at sir’s face. My cheeks were wet with tears from both eyes. Babu sir placed his hand on my shoulder and said, “Go on, go upstairs and wait. We are not that much bad people as you thought us to be. Sometimes even the IBA faculties are too good! Freshen up, give your interview properly, now there’s no tension anymore. What’s your exam tomorrow?” “Sir, Mathematical Reasoning and Mental Ability.” “How will you go?” “Sir, I have a return plane ticket.” “Good! Brother, splash some water on your eyes and face to fix your appearance. Give your viva quickly and rush to the airport! Good luck!” At that moment I felt like touching sir’s feet in salute. People get frightened by sudden intense love. For the first time, it suddenly struck me: “What if I can’t honor this love of my teachers? What if I don’t get a chance at IBA in the end?”

When we find ourselves in trouble, if our intentions are pure, a way out always emerges! I went to the washroom on the third floor and tried my best to “make myself presentable” by wetting my hair and smoothing it down. After splashing water on my face, I went and waited in front of the notice board. I was called after 10 minutes. It was nearly seven o’clock. When I entered the room, I saw many faculty members seated there. I hadn’t known that so many would be present for an interview. I thought this was perhaps how IBA interviews were conducted. I later learned that this entire panel had been assembled just for me. Apart from Babu Sir and Rahi Sir, I didn’t recognize anyone else. After getting admitted, I realized that those present that evening were IBA’s most senior and accomplished faculty members. The board included Saiful Majid Sir, Shama-e-Zahir Sir, Mamun Sir, Munir Khosru Sir, Niaz Sir, and Saif Noman Khan Sir. Most of the junior faculty had finished their interviews and gone home, while some senior faculty were in their offices conducting Executive MBA interviews. Some of them had been specially called in. I was in the interview for about 18-20 minutes. Many of the faculty members knew about my situation that day. I had heard of something called “divine possession” in life. At certain special moments, due to particular external influences or circumstances, people suddenly gain extraordinary power. In those moments, they step outside their normal state and display different behavior. They can harness the utmost potential of their inner infinite strength. In that wondrous balanced fusion of emotion and capability, the best version of themselves emerges. From the moment I entered the interview room, I had very likely become a different person, or perhaps the very best ‘me’ from within had emerged that day. By what divine signal this happened, I don’t know. No hesitation, doubt, nervousness, fear, the day’s exhaustion, or lethargy was affecting me at all. I felt incredibly composed and light as a feather. It felt as though whatever I was saying or doing was the best possible. I was experiencing the finest moment of my life right then and there. I can say with complete honesty that the style in which I spoke English that day—I have never in my entire life, even to this day, been able to speak English so flawlessly and fluently. That day the faculty members engaged in various kinds of humor during the interview. They were having great fun with me. Most likely, the faculty wanted to “shake me up” somehow. I don’t know why, by whose indication I don’t know, but I kept answering all their questions one by one with a very cool head and a smile that day. They interviewed me in English on various diverse topics, starting from describing the entire day’s events and the preceding Facebook incidents to many other subjects. (Of course, at IBA there’s absolutely no opportunity to give interviews in Bengali.) Why I wanted to pursue an MBA, why IBA if I was going to take government job exams anyway, my weaknesses, whether I’d ever been in love, how I spend my leisure time, some conversation about reading books, various economic issues of Bangladesh, some personal and family matters, my future plans, the breathless motorcycle journey from A to Z, the BCS examination system, why I went into engineering despite having no interest, why I delayed my honors degree, why I didn’t study properly, why my CGPA was so low, what I like to eat, what kind of personality I prefer in people, what I know about IBA, some current affairs, and several other questions. I was answering very quickly in correct English. The faculty praised this too. I gave a very simple, straightforward, and candid interview. I didn’t speak a single false word that day.

I didn’t need to think before speaking—whatever came to mind, I simply said, so there was no chance to fabricate lies. At the end, they asked me to sing a song. When I said, “I can’t, Sir,” Babu Sir showed me my info-form and laughed, saying, “But you’ve claimed so.” I had written Reading, Writing, Singing in the hobbies section… At that moment, it felt like I was living the best day of my life. I sang, “Aaj ei dintake…” “I see, we’re getting a singer for our cultural program!” As Saiful Majid Sir was saying this, Babu Sir interjected, “Sir, he has another exam tomorrow. He’ll probably be flying back to Chittagong tonight.” Then three or four teachers exclaimed in unison, “What! He’s going back to Chittagong right now? Well then, run along, run along! Go downstairs and see if your superman biker is there! Hahahaha…” As I was leaving with my salaam, the teachers called out, “Best of luck for your tomorrow’s exam.” I kept thinking, again and again—I’ll make it, I’ll make it! (Even after giving the BCS viva, I didn’t feel this good.)

When I stepped out of IBA, it was half past seven on the clock. I knew there was no way I could catch the 7:45 flight. I also knew that I had no idea how I would get to Chittagong that night. I didn’t even feel like thinking about it. Only the exhilarating rush of having given a good exam was coursing through me. Pappu and Arefin had been waiting for me at Madhu’s canteen. Taking them along, I went to the front of Dhaka University’s Central Library and leisurely began eating vegetable pakoras and tea. Many of my students studied in various departments at Dhaka University. Quite a few came to see me. They were asking what questions had been asked in the interview. After a day of incredible experiences, my head had become almost entirely empty. I couldn’t understand why I wasn’t feeling the slightest urgency to return to Chittagong. Pappu asked, “Brother, will you take the night bus?” I said, “Yes, that could work.” (It amuses me now to think how casually I had said ‘that could work’!) The road conditions weren’t good then either, there were always traffic jams. It didn’t even occur to me—what would happen if I couldn’t reach by 10 AM tomorrow? Ripon, a dear younger brother who lived in Chittagong and was one of my former students, said, “Brother, I have a non-AC train ticket; for Turna Nishitha, leaving tonight. It doesn’t matter if I don’t go to Chittagong today. Brother, you take it.” “Alright, fine,” I said, took the ticket, and set off toward Kamalapur Station. That night the train left nearly an hour and a half late. I didn’t even want to think about what was going to happen! I had already surrendered myself to fate long before. In my mind I kept repeating only this: whatever will be, will be. Whether I want it or not, it will happen. And whatever is happening is surely for the good; whatever will happen will surely be for the good too. Let’s see! After the day’s exhaustion, I had a very peaceful sleep. Suddenly I woke up hearing commotion around me. The train had stopped at Comilla. Apparently there was some problem with the line. We were delayed there for nearly two and a quarter hours. I couldn’t understand why I wasn’t feeling any kind of anxiety! I fell asleep again. Sleep is the world’s only faithful lover. Whenever I want it, I find it near. Never, under any circumstances, does it abandon me. There can be no purer love than the love for sleep.

When the train reached Chittagong railway station the next day, it was a quarter to ten in the morning. My exam was scheduled to start at ten. It takes only fifteen minutes to get from the station to my house. When I got home, I found my mother sitting there with everything ready in her hands—my pencil box, board, scale, pen, calculator, admit card, registration card, all of it. My parents had been terribly anxious at home. I hadn’t been able to speak to them since after half past one at night. My mobile had run out of charge. (I was using a cheap Nokia 1100 mobile set back then. Everyone called it the “national set”! It was so sturdy that many would joke, “Dude, you could crack jackfruit with that phone!” I’d tease my friends who used expensive mobiles, saying, “My phone’s model is ‘N Eleven Zero Zero’!”) As soon as my mother saw me, she said, “Dear, how are you? Will you take today’s exam?” I felt emotionally numb. It seemed as though I was lighter than a feather at that moment, floating around in some kind of trance! I smiled and said, “Ma, I’m perfectly fine. I’ll take the exam.” Saying this, I took the packed shopping bag from my mother’s hands and left the house just as I was. It was 10:05 on the clock. From our house to the exam center, it takes at least thirty minutes by CNG during office hours. When I reached the college gate, it was 10:43. That day was the mathematical reasoning and mental ability test. The first two hours were mathematical reasoning, followed by one hour of mental ability. The exam had already started forty-three minutes earlier. Naturally, the police wouldn’t let me enter. I pleaded extensively, kept trying futilely to explain what had happened, but they weren’t willing to listen to anything. But I had made up my mind—I wasn’t going to turn back, I would get inside no matter what. A small commotion started gathering there. Seeing the crowd, the magistrate came over. After hearing my entire story, he said, “You only have one hour left. Can you finish all the math problems in this time?” Without a moment’s hesitation, I said, “I can, sir!” “Alright, go ahead. Good luck!” My heart overflowed with gratitude toward him. At that moment, he seemed to me not human, but divine! I went in, looked at the questions, took the exam. I even showed three problems to the person sitting next to me. (He got a job in Audit and Accounts in the 30th batch.) I scored 98 on that day’s exam—50 in math, 48 in mental ability. After that… well, as everyone says—the rest is history!

But this much is true: had that day’s exam been something other than mathematics, I would have been in real trouble. I can handle math because the type of problems that appeared in the BCS written exam back then weren’t particularly difficult for me to solve. Such problems don’t strain the mind much, and the 30th BCS written exam featured relatively easy math. Even if I worked through each step carefully and added side notes, it shouldn’t have taken more than half an hour. It didn’t for me either. However, spending two and a half hours on the International Affairs exam the day before had been risky. Actually, no matter how incredible the whole affair might seem, everything appears to have been predetermined by the Creator or nature itself. What remains inexplicable to our limited understanding is simply a natural, ordinary occurrence for the Creator. All our failures and successes are already decided beforehand. But to reach that point, the effort—or making the right decision at the right time—that we must do ourselves. I wasn’t even supposed to pass my undergraduate degree. Yet it was my destiny to complete my undergraduate studies, become a BCS cadre, study at IBA—all of it was written in my fate. Had my destiny been bound elsewhere, I would have gone there instead. I had enrolled in another master’s program under Dhaka University—MDS. After continuing that course for three months, I left it of my own accord. They had said I would need to officially hide the fact that I was simultaneously pursuing another master’s at IBA. I refused to lie. I harbor no regret about this, though. I’ve accepted that pursuing that particular master’s degree simply wasn’t written in my destiny. This is the truth, this is reality. I had gained admission to Dhaka University’s Evening MBA program in Finance, ranking sixth on the merit list, but never had to attend classes there. I received my IBA admission test results before that. I did complete my master’s in Finance from Dhaka University, but the Evening MBA program wasn’t destined for me, so I didn’t pursue my master’s degree from there.

Stepping into two boats in the middle of a river ensures certain death. Logic dictates this. But I placed my feet in two boats, taking the maximum risk—I had no other choice—yet both boats moved forward in parallel at the same speed at the same time, so I didn’t slip between them and lose my life. What explanation could there be for this? Life doesn’t follow logic; life follows the Creator’s signals. Life doesn’t always operate according to explanations. Sometimes life moves on faith. So there’s nothing to say about anyone’s personal philosophy and the life they live according to their beliefs, as long as that life doesn’t interfere with someone else’s way of living. Somewhere, no explicable form of life can be seen, and life is just like this!

Through sheer mental strength alone, I had believed that some miracle would surely occur. It did happen, because in Providence’s master plan, that’s what was meant to happen. Everything in between was the Creator’s games or plans to test my patience and concentration. You will never be given a gift you don’t deserve. You will be tested, and if you fail to pass that test, you will deprive yourself of the Creator’s grace through your own fault. I’m sharing with you the Facebook status I posted after the IBA admission test results came out, along with a couple of my own comments on it:

Friends, I’ve been finally selected for admission into the MBA Program of IBA, Dhaka University. …… feeling happy. ……. HATS OFF to Sharmeen didi, Ira madam & Romel bhai!!

# My dear friends….. Your gorgeous presence on my wall makes me think twice about the POWER of friendship & the MAGIC of love. YES……… They matter!! I just want to be with you forever. Please never say GOODBYE…. It hurts!! Your kindness and care mean a lot to me. You’ve always given me much more than I really deserve. Please accept my sincere GRATITUDE.

Happy Social Networking!!

Long live Facebook!!

My best wishes for our Friendship!!

……… Love you all ……

# (To one of my close friends) Dost, not reaching the Interview Session on 17 January at 5:30 pm was what I thought to be….. reaching there in time was what was written in my DESTINY….. And, I ended up calling it a MIRACLE, something I never believed in before…… Just have a look at the schedule of 17 January……

International Affairs Exam (BCS written exam)…. 10:00 am — 1:00 pm

The departure time of the GMG Airlines: 3:20 pm, there was a delay of about 1 hour due to fog and I availed another delayed flight of Bangladesh Biman at 4:37 pm.

The plane landed on Dhaka Airport at 5:13 pm and then I started my fight against time to meet the deadline by bike with Romel bhai!! Who managed those three saviours (Sharmeen didi, Ira madam & Romel bhai) for me? I don’t know. You better ask the Heaven! I saw such a breath-taking motor-bike driving only in English movies. Before that day, I had never thought I would experience it!!

Life is sometimes stranger than fiction . . . . Who can tell it better than I?

# (To one of my senior high-profile Indian friends) Thank you Sir for your words of felicitation. IBA of Dhaka University is considered as the most prestigious institute for doing MBA in Bangladesh. As per the rules of that Business School, the Major/Field of Specialization is allowed to be chosen at the final semester judging the academic records & intention of a candidate. I don’t have much idea about what to choose and why to choose. Please share some ideas on it as you’ve huge practical knowledge (so far as I know) about the present corporate trend.

You’ve nicely stated the trend of our careerist B-school graduates. No one really cares about their own aptitude, rather, tries to be what market wants them to be. Personally, I always like the decision-making and mainstream operational sections of giant companies. And, probably I’ll go for finance as my major when I’ve to choose it in my final semester. Yes, my semester results must be well enough to work on my advantage. That’ll be a story of one and a half years later. Till then, I’ll have to undergo the generalized curriculum as my B-school formulates. The recent economic recession worries our friends studying at the US universities. And, almost all of them suggest me not to plan of staying there. But at the same time, they suggest me completing my PhD in the US if I want to and grab that opportunity. Let’s wait and see. . . . . Are you in India now? Hope you’re quite OK along with your busy schedule. Please, sometimes give me your valuable suggestions when you’ve time and you’re here on Facebook. . . . . Thank you once again for your helpful advice. Take care.

In explaining the final part of the status shared above, I had written these words:

Let me share the Story behind the Story and elucidate the last part of my status. It would have been quite impossible for me to reach Dhaka University from Dhaka International Airport within just 50 minutes (!!) to attend the interview session of IBA in time on Jan 17, but for the cordial help of Sharmeen didi (Sharmeen Muiz) & Ira madam (Johora Bebe Ira). They’re the persons who made that miracle happen!! And, Romel bhai (Monirul Alam Romel) is the “Man with the Bike” who dared fight against time to meet the deadline!! ……. I feel honoured to express my heartfelt gratitude to these three saviours. …….. Miracles Happen When You Believe!!

I conclude this piece with a beautifully strange comment Sharmeen didi made on that status: “My prayers, good wishes, and prayers remain with you. Dear brother of mine, may you grow to great heights. And may the successful reflection of our efforts (Ira’s and mine) shine through in everything you do. I was there, I am here, I will be there. …….. Heaps of hugs and love.”

What sustains a human being? We live on love, on prayers, on good wishes. These are what keep me alive—quite well alive, in fact. My gratitude!

P.S. Let me offer you some practical wisdom. Those who think they know too much, who consider themselves supremely intelligent, who speak in grand terms without any real qualifications or notable position, who try to diminish others even through outright lies, who pontificate without knowledge, who speak to you in such a manner that you begin to doubt your own confidence—I would advise you to absolutely, absolutely, and absolutely avoid such people. They themselves cannot go very far in life, nor will they allow you to go very far either.

(Written 2-3 years ago)

I had never been on a plane before. I thought that wherever you go, you need a passport to fly. My elder brother called a friend who works with passport services and asked what documents are needed for an emergency passport to Dhaka. He burst out laughing! He said, “Buddy, what do you need a passport for? A plane and a bus are the same thing. One flies in the sky, the other runs on the road. That’s all there is to it! Just go buy a ticket. That’s it! Which one is good? You can go with GMG. That’s pretty good.” I didn’t know that you don’t have to rush to the airport to buy a plane ticket. I had no idea how much tickets cost. Getting off the bus in the morning, I went straight to a Dutch-Bangla Bank booth and withdrew ten thousand taka. Then I jumped into a CNG and rushed to the airport. I bought a ticket from the GMG Airlines counter for the 3:20 flight on Monday, the 17th. That was the first Chittagong-Dhaka flight of the afternoon. I booked a return ticket for the same day on the 7:45 evening flight. I felt like I could see it right before my eyes—me attending classes at IBA! Such a strange vision! I returned home with a victorious smile, almost as if I had already gotten into IBA! At night, I tried to prepare from various guides and the internet about what they might ask in the IBA interview. I studied for about 4-5 hours. At the same time, I posted a status on Facebook: How much time does it take to reach Dhaka University from Dhaka International Airport? Is it possible to reach in 40 minutes? Friends, any suggestion, please? I was truly a very simple person back then. I saw the world in very simple terms. Since I hadn’t visited Dhaka much, I didn’t know that in 2011 it wasn’t possible to get from the airport to Shahbag in 40 minutes. Everyone was saying it would take a minimum of two hours to get from the airport to the university campus in the afternoon. All sorts of bizarre comments came in reply to my status. Many started making fun of me. I’ll share some of my friends’ suggestions: “It’s possible if you run.” “It would be great if you jogged to the university. You’d get your evening exercise too!” “You shouldn’t have bought that plane ticket! With that money, if you had thrown us a party, we all would have prayed together and your BCS would have worked out! Hahahaha…..” “Young man! You’re young, just run as soon as you get off the plane! You’ll see, you’ll reach before time!” “Listen, such-and-such bus runs on such-and-such route. Hanging and sleeping, you’ll reach IBA just fine!” I got many such absurd comments. I knew absolutely nothing about Dhaka then. When you’re in trouble, doesn’t everyone have to give you a kick? It began to feel like that’s just how life is! People can’t extend a hand to pull you up, but they can certainly extend a foot to kick you down! Without getting the least bit discouraged by anyone’s words, I kept waiting to see if someone would give some good advice. I didn’t react to anyone’s reply that day. How helplessly calm a person becomes when in trouble. All I knew was this: “I’m giving my IBA interview on the 17th.” One person wrote, “You can go by bike. There’s no faster way to reach the university campus.” Some people even supported that idea. A few mentioned taxi cabs. Support was strongest for the bike option. Up until then, I had ridden a bike maybe 2-3 times in my entire life, counting generously. I didn’t really know anyone in Dhaka who had a bike, or if I did know someone, my mind wasn’t working at all then. Sometimes I think now, alas!

I couldn’t even afford to manage a bike at that time. I wrote, “My flight is scheduled to land at Dhaka Airport at 4.10 pm on 17 January. I must reach Dhaka University at or before 5.15 pm. I’ve an interview at IBA at that time. . . . Can’t I do it? Is it not possible? I need to do it at any cost. As I don’t know about the routes of Dhaka City, I’m asking for your help. Dhaka City is an unknown city to me. Can a taxi cab help me reach there in 1 hour? I can’t be late, otherwise I’ll miss the interview schedule. I’ve managed that schedule today through an application. . . Can a bike be a better solution? Or, something else? I’m in great trouble. . . .” After posting this, the mocking and laughter began all over again. I replied to the distinguished gentleman (one of Bangladesh’s most successful businessmen) who had advised me to jog there: “Thank you Sir for you ‘jogging’ suggestion. I was also seriously thinking of this option. Yes, I’ll surely manage to reach in time by vehicles, on foot, again by vehicles, again on foot . . . . And, I’ll go. I’ll be there in time by any means.” Someone said, “Change the schedule once more.” I wrote, “The schedule can’t be changed! Hopefully, there will happen some miracle and I’ll manage to avail the schedule in time.” A younger brother wrote, “Brother, you should go by taxi-cab. But you could try the bus once. Dhaka buses run quite well!” I replied, “Brother, I’m not surely making any attempt of getting on a bus! That’ll be horrible, you know. I was just seeking for a suggestion as I don’t know about the route. Thanks for the suggestion. I think a CNG powered taxi can help me in this regard. A taxi-cab is prone to getting stuck up in the congestion forever. A bike could be a better solution. But, I can’t manage it.”

Mrs. Zohra, whose name was Ira—an extremely distinguished lady—commented, “You need a bike?” “That would be wonderful.” “Alright, let me see what I can do.” She was the Deputy Managing Director of ONE Bank. After completing her studies in Chemistry from Chittagong University, she had done her MBA from IBA. She worked in the corporate sector, but there were very few people who didn’t know her. I have a sister. Her name is Sharmin Muiz Khan. At that time, she was one of those rare souls who loved someone as insignificant as me far more than necessary, showered me with affection for no particular reason. She was almost my mother’s age, but I addressed her as ‘tumi’ and she called me ‘tui’. She had studied English Literature at Dhaka University. She particularly loved my writing. She was a business magnate and had connections with many prominent people. I have rarely seen a lady as distinguished, refined, elegant, and utterly graceful as her. She commented, “Bappi, someone needs to grab you and give you a good thrashing. Are you enjoying confusing everyone by calling them all the time? Please stop wasting your time browsing Facebook and concentrate on tomorrow’s exam. Otherwise, you’re calling for another disaster. There is a saying: ‘Que sera, sera’ meaning: Whatever will be, will be. So, pray and try your best. I have given this opinion after a lot of serious thoughts. Please follow it. You will leave here right now. I don’t want to see you making even one more comment! MIRACLES HAPPEN IF YOU BELIEVE IN YOURSELF!” I replied, “Didi, things are that they’re. Things will be that they will be. And, between this two there lie some miracles that we’re never aware of. And, miracles are often stranger than facts. Facts are because they’re. Miracles are because we or someone else wants them to be. That’s the truth!” She called Mrs. Zohra. She said, “Look Ira, my brother has gotten into a bit of trouble. The poor thing is a simple soul, we should do something for him. Can’t you arrange a bike for him?” A little while later, I saw a message from Mrs. Zohra in my inbox: “Please give me your contact number. Regards” I gave it immediately. The call came within seconds. After introducing herself, she said, “You need a bike Monday at 4 PM, right?” “That would be wonderful.” “OK, a bike will be there for you at 4. My colleague Romel will pick you. Alright?” “I am truly, truly grateful. Thank you so very much!” “Let’s get the work done first, then you can thank me. I’m texting you Romel’s number. Take care.” She hung up immediately. I wrote to her: “Life is stranger than fiction, I repeat. From myself, I’ve got much less than I truly deserve. From others, I’ve got much more than I truly deserve. Is it the thing that they call miracle? I don’t know and never try to know. I let miracles happen and thankfully they always happen . . . . . . . Thank you for your generous approach. This really means a lot to me.” I wrote my piece. I don’t know if she ever read it or had the time to read it. Noble souls don’t wait for thanks. Besides, she was truly, truly busy.

He was the head of the credit section at One Bank. He had no reason to know a nobody like me, yet he knew me through my writing. Otherwise, I would never have had the privilege of speaking with him directly. And the fact that Sharmin didi had spoken to him about me—that was a big deal too. The next day was the Bangladesh Affairs Paper 2 exam. I went to sleep without studying any of it. The day after, straight from the exam hall, I went to the Westex showroom at Probortak intersection. My life’s first interview. I was incredibly excited! I had decided I’d go to the interview board wearing everything brand new. I bought a formal white shirt, black pants, black tie, black belt, black socks, white undershirt, and brown shoes. Later, from Gallery Apex I bought formal Oxford shoes, and from Time Zone a Titan wristwatch, then returned home in the evening. Seeing my antics, Ma was laughing. “Ma, why are you laughing?” “Just because, dear.” The funny thing was, Ma went with me to the exam hall every single day. She always kept me close, just like a child. Ma said, “Tomorrow I’m going to the airport with you.” And she did go—despite my protests.

Monday, the 17th. International Affairs exam. I couldn’t stay in the exam hall for the entire time due to nerves. I don’t have a car, what if the CNG takes too long to reach the airport! What if I miss the flight! The flight was at 3:20. And it takes at least 2 hours to reach the airport from Omar Gani MES College by 1 PM. Our written exam had been during winter. In the bitter cold, my fingers would freeze. Still, I kept rubbing my palms together to warm them, blowing hot breath into the hollow of my cupped hands, and wrote with all my strength. Instead of 1 o’clock, I finished the exam at 12:30, submitted my paper, and rushed out. When I emerged from the hall and reached the gate, everyone thought I must have been expelled! The intense stress was clearly written all over my face. Many showed me sympathy, told me not to worry, advised me to do better in the next BCS. I didn’t have time to respond. What could I say anyway—at that moment, life itself was one giant question mark for me! I don’t know what strength possessed my mother. She ran almost twice as fast as me, covering the distance from the college campus to the road. We got into a CNG without bargaining, paying nearly one and a half times the normal fare. I told the driver, “However you manage it, get us to the airport within two hours. If necessary, I’ll pay you extra.” It was 12:50 on the clock. The CNG started speeding. Mother opened the tiffin box and fed me khichuri, meat, and fried egg. One thought kept spinning in my head: “Will I catch the plane? If we get stuck in traffic, it’s all over!” I took off my sweater. I had left home that morning wearing my viva outfit, everything except the tie. After escaping two minor traffic jams, when we reached the airport, it was 5 minutes to 3. As soon as I got down, I touched my mother’s and aunt’s feet in respect (a distant aunt had come with us since mother couldn’t return home from the airport alone) and ran to the counter. There I learned that the flight was delayed by an hour due to dense fog. I thought, if the plane leaves at that time, there’s no way I can reach IBA by 5:15. I informed the counter staff about this. They said there was nothing they could do; they were very sorry. I inquired and learned that no other flights were departing at that time either. At that moment, I felt utterly helpless, just wanting to cry. I felt like I had no one, no one at all! I kept going from counter to counter. I found out there was a Bangladesh Biman flight departing at 3:45. There was no other flight before that. It was a bigger plane, taking 30 minutes to reach, whereas other planes take at least 40 minutes. Meaning, I would reach Dhaka airport by 4:15! I bought the ticket right then. There was great hope in my heart—if this one leaves on time, there’s nothing more to worry about. I went to the airport restroom and quickly put on my tie. I adjusted my shirt once more. Looking in the mirror, I fixed my hair with my hand. The clock hand crossed 4 after passing 3:45. The plane was delayed due to fog. We all boarded the plane at 4:15. It was my first time on a plane. I kept thinking, when will it take off, when will it take off! Every second felt like an hour! The tension was making it hard to breathe, yet the plane wouldn’t take off. I thought, oh! If only I could spend all my strength to make this plane soar into the sky! I pressed my handkerchief over my eyes to hide my tears. Finally, the plane took off. It was 4:37 on the clock. I was thinking, oh!

The plane could have taken off directly without taxiing! At least a couple of minutes would have been saved! The plane landed on Dhaka’s runway at 5:13.

I burst out of the domestic terminal running with all my might, and gasping for breath, I saw a motorcycle come to a stop right in front of me. “You’re Sushanta, right? Get on the back!” I extended my hand to shake hands with the young man in the black helmet. He didn’t raise his black-gloved right fist for a handshake. “Time’s wasting, brother! Please get on! Quick!” I didn’t argue further. “You’re not used to riding bikes, are you?” “Yes. How did you know?” “Brother, I’ve been riding bikes for the past 18-20 years. I can tell.” “I see.” “Lean forward and press your chest firmly against my back! You can even wrap your arms around me, otherwise you’ll get thrown off. For sure! I’m going to ride fast.” The way that bike tore out of the airport—I don’t have the courage to even think about it today. Under normal circumstances, I might have screamed in fear and told him to stop, or I really would have been thrown off. But at that moment I knew that being afraid was important, but far more important was reaching IBA alive. I don’t know if the wheels of that 150cc bike actually touched the ground that day, but for the second time in my life I understood this truth: you cannot frighten someone who stakes their life to touch their dreams. I had only seen bikes racing so recklessly on the roads in movies. The bike was literally cutting through the whooshing sound of wind, as if flying through the air! “Say brother, are you somebody really important?” “What do you mean?” “Well, Madam told me that one of her very important friends had to be delivered from the airport to IBA within half an hour, no matter what. That was her order! Who are you, brother? Hahahaha………” “I’m Madam’s Facebook friend.” “What are you saying, man? How’s that possible! I was thinking even more… you mean you’ve never even met her?” “No, brother. Why?” (There’s a railway crossing ahead. The barrier is coming down.) “Brother, duck your head a little.” Saying this, he quickly rode the bike under the barrier without obeying the signal. Many people behind us were shouting for us to stop. “Brother, just don’t be afraid. Nothing will happen. You can close your eyes if you want.” Right at that moment, while quickly emerging from between two trucks standing side by side, he said, “Sit a bit smaller, brother!” A little further ahead—massive traffic jam at a signal! Romel bhai lifted the bike onto the sidewalk. “Brother, please give way a little, give way a little,” he kept saying as he raced forward. He had to do this several times. Sometimes when riding on the central divider in the middle of the road, traffic police would catch us, and he’d say in a tearful voice, “Sir, my aunt is fighting for her life in the medical college. I’m going to donate blood. O-negative blood—we can’t find any. If I don’t reach on time, we won’t be able to save my aunt, sir!” He’d manage the police with this story and then race off at the same speed again! Whenever there was a traffic jam on the road, he’d immediately change to another road. That day I learned that when obstacles appear on the road, it doesn’t mean there is no road. Rather, it means you have to take a different road! Right now!! I had only seen such daredevil biking in Hollywood action movies. Looking at my hair in the bike’s mirror, it seemed as if it had stood up straight after an electric shock! My face was covered with dust from the city. In the fierce wind, my tie was flying behind me in the air. I don’t know if anyone has ever seen a bike race so recklessly through Dhaka’s roads during rush hour. But for some reason, I truly wasn’t afraid at all. I kept thinking over and over, “How quickly can one reach IBA!” Romel bhai had finished his honors and master’s from Dhaka College before joining the bank. I had asked him, “What’s your designation at the bank?” He had joked, “Not much, just 14 more promotions and I’ll be able to sit in Zohra Madam’s chair. Hahaha…….”

When I arrived in front of IBA, my watch showed 5:52. As I got down, I saw my younger brother Pappu and his friend Arefin standing there. At that time, I had my gift shop ‘Dobhana.’ Pappu and Arefin were my working partners. They often came to Dhaka from Chawk Bazaar in Old Dhaka to buy wholesale goods for the shop. I had withdrawn myself from the shop to focus on my BCS exam preparation. They ran everything. They were already in Dhaka on shop business. I had told them to go to the IBA MBA program office and keep me updated by phone about the viva board situation. Through repeated conversations with them, I was checking whether the interview board was still there, asking them to go to the program office and explain that I couldn’t arrive on time due to flight delays, terrible traffic jams, and so on. As soon as I got down, they informed me, “Bhaiya, the board left 4-5 minutes ago. Now only the Executive MBA viva remains.” After introducing them to Romel bhai, I rushed up to the MBA program office on the second floor. As soon as they saw me, everyone there stopped their work and looked at me. I saw Rahi Sir busy with something; he didn’t respond to my greeting. “Sir, I’m very late. Despite trying hard, I couldn’t arrive on time. I…” Without giving me a chance to say anything more, he shouted, “You Idiot! Get out!” “Sir, I…” “I said, Get out! Out! Out!! I knew very well that you wouldn’t be able to come on time. Is it possible to take one exam in Chittagong and then come to Dhaka for another exam? That easy? You’ve just wasted my time! I had told everyone that a boy from Chittagong would come at 5:15, and we needed to take his viva. Did you think I am a joker?” “Sir, I came here with great difficulty. The flight was delayed, there was heavy traffic on the road. I really…” “It’s none of my business! Get out! Go back where you came from.” “Sir, I had many dreams of studying at IBA.” “Everyone on the street has such dreams. I gave you a chance but you missed it. That’s all! Get out of here.” “Sir, please have some mercy…” (I felt like falling at his feet and crying…) Right beside him sat a gentle-looking gentleman much younger than the sir. He said, “Sir, I’ve heard about him. His younger brother kept coming to our program office. They had been standing in front of the office for hours. His flight was indeed delayed. And there’s heavy traffic in Dhaka today too. A friend of mine came to my room from the airport a while ago; it took him a long time to get here too. Give him a chance, Sir. He’s come so far, taking such risks with great difficulty! He apparently has another written exam tomorrow too. The poor fellow has to return to Chittagong today itself.” “Son, you junior faculty members don’t even know what you’re saying, what kind of requests you make. Why are you pleading for him? Is he your relative or something?” “No no Sir, I’m seeing him for the first time today. Just look at his face once, Sir. He’s really come here with great difficulty. Please do him a favor, Sir.” “You have no idea what you are talking about! Will the Executive MBA viva be the same as theirs? They have 3 years of job experience, while these are just children in comparison!

“This won’t be possible, brother. I am sorry!” “Sir, please help the poor fellow a bit. He’s come such a long way with so much hope!” “Son, we can’t manage anything more for you!” I stood a little distance away, head bowed. Looking at me, he called out loudly, “Hey, stupid! Why are you standing there like a donkey? Go on, go to the third floor! Go and stand there absolutely quietly. We’ll call you.” I truly couldn’t understand whether such a beautiful moment had ever come anywhere in this world before! Tears began streaming down my face. I prayed again and again from my heart for Babu sir. Rahi sir seemed like a father figure to me. I kept remembering mother’s words: “Never get angry at teachers’ scolding. When teachers scold, it means blessings.” Overwhelmed with emotion, as I was about to leave after thanking and saluting the teachers, Rahi sir called from behind, “Hey crazy boy! Comb your hair before entering the board! Wash your face at the basin! Don’t be so scared! Hahaha…” I couldn’t say anything more. I kept staring blankly at sir’s face. My cheeks were wet with tears from both eyes. Babu sir placed his hand on my shoulder and said, “Go on, go upstairs and wait. We are not that much bad people as you thought us to be. Sometimes even the IBA faculties are too good! Freshen up, give your interview properly, now there’s no tension anymore. What’s your exam tomorrow?” “Sir, Mathematical Reasoning and Mental Ability.” “How will you go?” “Sir, I have a return plane ticket.” “Good! Brother, splash some water on your eyes and face to fix your appearance. Give your viva quickly and rush to the airport! Good luck!” At that moment I felt like touching sir’s feet in salute. People get frightened by sudden intense love. For the first time, it suddenly struck me: “What if I can’t honor this love of my teachers? What if I don’t get a chance at IBA in the end?”

When we find ourselves in trouble, if our intentions are pure, a way out always emerges! I went to the washroom on the third floor and tried my best to “make myself presentable” by wetting my hair and smoothing it down. After splashing water on my face, I went and waited in front of the notice board. I was called after 10 minutes. It was nearly seven o’clock. When I entered the room, I saw many faculty members seated there. I hadn’t known that so many would be present for an interview. I thought this was perhaps how IBA interviews were conducted. I later learned that this entire panel had been assembled just for me. Apart from Babu Sir and Rahi Sir, I didn’t recognize anyone else. After getting admitted, I realized that those present that evening were IBA’s most senior and accomplished faculty members. The board included Saiful Majid Sir, Shama-e-Zahir Sir, Mamun Sir, Munir Khosru Sir, Niaz Sir, and Saif Noman Khan Sir. Most of the junior faculty had finished their interviews and gone home, while some senior faculty were in their offices conducting Executive MBA interviews. Some of them had been specially called in. I was in the interview for about 18-20 minutes. Many of the faculty members knew about my situation that day. I had heard of something called “divine possession” in life. At certain special moments, due to particular external influences or circumstances, people suddenly gain extraordinary power. In those moments, they step outside their normal state and display different behavior. They can harness the utmost potential of their inner infinite strength. In that wondrous balanced fusion of emotion and capability, the best version of themselves emerges. From the moment I entered the interview room, I had very likely become a different person, or perhaps the very best ‘me’ from within had emerged that day. By what divine signal this happened, I don’t know. No hesitation, doubt, nervousness, fear, the day’s exhaustion, or lethargy was affecting me at all. I felt incredibly composed and light as a feather. It felt as though whatever I was saying or doing was the best possible. I was experiencing the finest moment of my life right then and there. I can say with complete honesty that the style in which I spoke English that day—I have never in my entire life, even to this day, been able to speak English so flawlessly and fluently. That day the faculty members engaged in various kinds of humor during the interview. They were having great fun with me. Most likely, the faculty wanted to “shake me up” somehow. I don’t know why, by whose indication I don’t know, but I kept answering all their questions one by one with a very cool head and a smile that day. They interviewed me in English on various diverse topics, starting from describing the entire day’s events and the preceding Facebook incidents to many other subjects. (Of course, at IBA there’s absolutely no opportunity to give interviews in Bengali.) Why I wanted to pursue an MBA, why IBA if I was going to take government job exams anyway, my weaknesses, whether I’d ever been in love, how I spend my leisure time, some conversation about reading books, various economic issues of Bangladesh, some personal and family matters, my future plans, the breathless motorcycle journey from A to Z, the BCS examination system, why I went into engineering despite having no interest, why I delayed my honors degree, why I didn’t study properly, why my CGPA was so low, what I like to eat, what kind of personality I prefer in people, what I know about IBA, some current affairs, and several other questions. I was answering very quickly in correct English. The faculty praised this too. I gave a very simple, straightforward, and candid interview. I didn’t speak a single false word that day.

I didn’t need to think before speaking—whatever came to mind, I simply said, so there was no chance to fabricate lies. At the end, they asked me to sing a song. When I said, “I can’t, Sir,” Babu Sir showed me my info-form and laughed, saying, “But you’ve claimed so.” I had written Reading, Writing, Singing in the hobbies section… At that moment, it felt like I was living the best day of my life. I sang, “Aaj ei dintake…” “I see, we’re getting a singer for our cultural program!” As Saiful Majid Sir was saying this, Babu Sir interjected, “Sir, he has another exam tomorrow. He’ll probably be flying back to Chittagong tonight.” Then three or four teachers exclaimed in unison, “What! He’s going back to Chittagong right now? Well then, run along, run along! Go downstairs and see if your superman biker is there! Hahahaha…” As I was leaving with my salaam, the teachers called out, “Best of luck for your tomorrow’s exam.” I kept thinking, again and again—I’ll make it, I’ll make it! (Even after giving the BCS viva, I didn’t feel this good.)

When I stepped out of IBA, it was half past seven on the clock. I knew there was no way I could catch the 7:45 flight. I also knew that I had no idea how I would get to Chittagong that night. I didn’t even feel like thinking about it. Only the exhilarating rush of having given a good exam was coursing through me. Pappu and Arefin had been waiting for me at Madhu’s canteen. Taking them along, I went to the front of Dhaka University’s Central Library and leisurely began eating vegetable pakoras and tea. Many of my students studied in various departments at Dhaka University. Quite a few came to see me. They were asking what questions had been asked in the interview. After a day of incredible experiences, my head had become almost entirely empty. I couldn’t understand why I wasn’t feeling the slightest urgency to return to Chittagong. Pappu asked, “Brother, will you take the night bus?” I said, “Yes, that could work.” (It amuses me now to think how casually I had said ‘that could work’!) The road conditions weren’t good then either, there were always traffic jams. It didn’t even occur to me—what would happen if I couldn’t reach by 10 AM tomorrow? Ripon, a dear younger brother who lived in Chittagong and was one of my former students, said, “Brother, I have a non-AC train ticket; for Turna Nishitha, leaving tonight. It doesn’t matter if I don’t go to Chittagong today. Brother, you take it.” “Alright, fine,” I said, took the ticket, and set off toward Kamalapur Station. That night the train left nearly an hour and a half late. I didn’t even want to think about what was going to happen! I had already surrendered myself to fate long before. In my mind I kept repeating only this: whatever will be, will be. Whether I want it or not, it will happen. And whatever is happening is surely for the good; whatever will happen will surely be for the good too. Let’s see! After the day’s exhaustion, I had a very peaceful sleep. Suddenly I woke up hearing commotion around me. The train had stopped at Comilla. Apparently there was some problem with the line. We were delayed there for nearly two and a quarter hours. I couldn’t understand why I wasn’t feeling any kind of anxiety! I fell asleep again. Sleep is the world’s only faithful lover. Whenever I want it, I find it near. Never, under any circumstances, does it abandon me. There can be no purer love than the love for sleep.

When the train reached Chittagong railway station the next day, it was a quarter to ten in the morning. My exam was scheduled to start at ten. It takes only fifteen minutes to get from the station to my house. When I got home, I found my mother sitting there with everything ready in her hands—my pencil box, board, scale, pen, calculator, admit card, registration card, all of it. My parents had been terribly anxious at home. I hadn’t been able to speak to them since after half past one at night. My mobile had run out of charge. (I was using a cheap Nokia 1100 mobile set back then. Everyone called it the “national set”! It was so sturdy that many would joke, “Dude, you could crack jackfruit with that phone!” I’d tease my friends who used expensive mobiles, saying, “My phone’s model is ‘N Eleven Zero Zero’!”) As soon as my mother saw me, she said, “Dear, how are you? Will you take today’s exam?” I felt emotionally numb. It seemed as though I was lighter than a feather at that moment, floating around in some kind of trance! I smiled and said, “Ma, I’m perfectly fine. I’ll take the exam.” Saying this, I took the packed shopping bag from my mother’s hands and left the house just as I was. It was 10:05 on the clock. From our house to the exam center, it takes at least thirty minutes by CNG during office hours. When I reached the college gate, it was 10:43. That day was the mathematical reasoning and mental ability test. The first two hours were mathematical reasoning, followed by one hour of mental ability. The exam had already started forty-three minutes earlier. Naturally, the police wouldn’t let me enter. I pleaded extensively, kept trying futilely to explain what had happened, but they weren’t willing to listen to anything. But I had made up my mind—I wasn’t going to turn back, I would get inside no matter what. A small commotion started gathering there. Seeing the crowd, the magistrate came over. After hearing my entire story, he said, “You only have one hour left. Can you finish all the math problems in this time?” Without a moment’s hesitation, I said, “I can, sir!” “Alright, go ahead. Good luck!” My heart overflowed with gratitude toward him. At that moment, he seemed to me not human, but divine! I went in, looked at the questions, took the exam. I even showed three problems to the person sitting next to me. (He got a job in Audit and Accounts in the 30th batch.) I scored 98 on that day’s exam—50 in math, 48 in mental ability. After that… well, as everyone says—the rest is history!

But this much is true: had that day’s exam been something other than mathematics, I would have been in real trouble. I can handle math because the type of problems that appeared in the BCS written exam back then weren’t particularly difficult for me to solve. Such problems don’t strain the mind much, and the 30th BCS written exam featured relatively easy math. Even if I worked through each step carefully and added side notes, it shouldn’t have taken more than half an hour. It didn’t for me either. However, spending two and a half hours on the International Affairs exam the day before had been risky. Actually, no matter how incredible the whole affair might seem, everything appears to have been predetermined by the Creator or nature itself. What remains inexplicable to our limited understanding is simply a natural, ordinary occurrence for the Creator. All our failures and successes are already decided beforehand. But to reach that point, the effort—or making the right decision at the right time—that we must do ourselves. I wasn’t even supposed to pass my undergraduate degree. Yet it was my destiny to complete my undergraduate studies, become a BCS cadre, study at IBA—all of it was written in my fate. Had my destiny been bound elsewhere, I would have gone there instead. I had enrolled in another master’s program under Dhaka University—MDS. After continuing that course for three months, I left it of my own accord. They had said I would need to officially hide the fact that I was simultaneously pursuing another master’s at IBA. I refused to lie. I harbor no regret about this, though. I’ve accepted that pursuing that particular master’s degree simply wasn’t written in my destiny. This is the truth, this is reality. I had gained admission to Dhaka University’s Evening MBA program in Finance, ranking sixth on the merit list, but never had to attend classes there. I received my IBA admission test results before that. I did complete my master’s in Finance from Dhaka University, but the Evening MBA program wasn’t destined for me, so I didn’t pursue my master’s degree from there.

Stepping into two boats in the middle of a river ensures certain death. Logic dictates this. But I placed my feet in two boats, taking the maximum risk—I had no other choice—yet both boats moved forward in parallel at the same speed at the same time, so I didn’t slip between them and lose my life. What explanation could there be for this? Life doesn’t follow logic; life follows the Creator’s signals. Life doesn’t always operate according to explanations. Sometimes life moves on faith. So there’s nothing to say about anyone’s personal philosophy and the life they live according to their beliefs, as long as that life doesn’t interfere with someone else’s way of living. Somewhere, no explicable form of life can be seen, and life is just like this!

Through sheer mental strength alone, I had believed that some miracle would surely occur. It did happen, because in Providence’s master plan, that’s what was meant to happen. Everything in between was the Creator’s games or plans to test my patience and concentration. You will never be given a gift you don’t deserve. You will be tested, and if you fail to pass that test, you will deprive yourself of the Creator’s grace through your own fault. I’m sharing with you the Facebook status I posted after the IBA admission test results came out, along with a couple of my own comments on it:

Friends, I’ve been finally selected for admission into the MBA Program of IBA, Dhaka University. …… feeling happy. ……. HATS OFF to Sharmeen didi, Ira madam & Romel bhai!!

# My dear friends….. Your gorgeous presence on my wall makes me think twice about the POWER of friendship & the MAGIC of love. YES……… They matter!! I just want to be with you forever. Please never say GOODBYE…. It hurts!! Your kindness and care mean a lot to me. You’ve always given me much more than I really deserve. Please accept my sincere GRATITUDE.

Happy Social Networking!!

Long live Facebook!!

My best wishes for our Friendship!!

……… Love you all ……

# (To one of my close friends) Dost, not reaching the Interview Session on 17 January at 5:30 pm was what I thought to be….. reaching there in time was what was written in my DESTINY….. And, I ended up calling it a MIRACLE, something I never believed in before…… Just have a look at the schedule of 17 January……

International Affairs Exam (BCS written exam)…. 10:00 am — 1:00 pm

The departure time of the GMG Airlines: 3:20 pm, there was a delay of about 1 hour due to fog and I availed another delayed flight of Bangladesh Biman at 4:37 pm.

The plane landed on Dhaka Airport at 5:13 pm and then I started my fight against time to meet the deadline by bike with Romel bhai!! Who managed those three saviours (Sharmeen didi, Ira madam & Romel bhai) for me? I don’t know. You better ask the Heaven! I saw such a breath-taking motor-bike driving only in English movies. Before that day, I had never thought I would experience it!!

Life is sometimes stranger than fiction . . . . Who can tell it better than I?

# (To one of my senior high-profile Indian friends) Thank you Sir for your words of felicitation. IBA of Dhaka University is considered as the most prestigious institute for doing MBA in Bangladesh. As per the rules of that Business School, the Major/Field of Specialization is allowed to be chosen at the final semester judging the academic records & intention of a candidate. I don’t have much idea about what to choose and why to choose. Please share some ideas on it as you’ve huge practical knowledge (so far as I know) about the present corporate trend.

You’ve nicely stated the trend of our careerist B-school graduates. No one really cares about their own aptitude, rather, tries to be what market wants them to be. Personally, I always like the decision-making and mainstream operational sections of giant companies. And, probably I’ll go for finance as my major when I’ve to choose it in my final semester. Yes, my semester results must be well enough to work on my advantage. That’ll be a story of one and a half years later. Till then, I’ll have to undergo the generalized curriculum as my B-school formulates. The recent economic recession worries our friends studying at the US universities. And, almost all of them suggest me not to plan of staying there. But at the same time, they suggest me completing my PhD in the US if I want to and grab that opportunity. Let’s wait and see. . . . . Are you in India now? Hope you’re quite OK along with your busy schedule. Please, sometimes give me your valuable suggestions when you’ve time and you’re here on Facebook. . . . . Thank you once again for your helpful advice. Take care.

In explaining the final part of the status shared above, I had written these words:

Let me share the Story behind the Story and elucidate the last part of my status. It would have been quite impossible for me to reach Dhaka University from Dhaka International Airport within just 50 minutes (!!) to attend the interview session of IBA in time on Jan 17, but for the cordial help of Sharmeen didi (Sharmeen Muiz) & Ira madam (Johora Bebe Ira). They’re the persons who made that miracle happen!! And, Romel bhai (Monirul Alam Romel) is the “Man with the Bike” who dared fight against time to meet the deadline!! ……. I feel honoured to express my heartfelt gratitude to these three saviours. …….. Miracles Happen When You Believe!!

I conclude this piece with a beautifully strange comment Sharmeen didi made on that status: “My prayers, good wishes, and prayers remain with you. Dear brother of mine, may you grow to great heights. And may the successful reflection of our efforts (Ira’s and mine) shine through in everything you do. I was there, I am here, I will be there. …….. Heaps of hugs and love.”

What sustains a human being? We live on love, on prayers, on good wishes. These are what keep me alive—quite well alive, in fact. My gratitude!

P.S. Let me offer you some practical wisdom. Those who think they know too much, who consider themselves supremely intelligent, who speak in grand terms without any real qualifications or notable position, who try to diminish others even through outright lies, who pontificate without knowledge, who speak to you in such a manner that you begin to doubt your own confidence—I would advise you to absolutely, absolutely, and absolutely avoid such people. They themselves cannot go very far in life, nor will they allow you to go very far either.

(Written 2-3 years ago)

I thought, why should I surrender before I’ve even lost? I’ll see this through to the end. At home, my parents were also saying, “Give up one of them.” My heart was telling me, “I won’t give up, not for anything!” Let me gamble with life this once and see what happens! You have to listen to your heart. I called the MBA Program Office. Zakir bhai was in charge there. He said, “IBA’s schedule doesn’t change for anyone. You change your schedule.” I said, “That’s not possible. You have several slots. BCS has only one.” Even after that he said, “It’s not possible in any way. We’re sorry!” Saying this, he hung up the phone, and my stubbornness only grew stronger. I put aside studying for the next day’s exam. After some inquiries, I learned that Rahi Sir was the Program Chairman for IBA’s MBA at the time. Only he could change my interview slot if he wanted to. Rahi Sir is an incredibly fierce person. IBA’s Marketing Department is the best in Bangladesh. Rahi Sir is the best faculty in that department. I got his number. The person I got the number from asked, “Are you really going to call Rahi Sir?” “Yes. Why?” “We students never dare to call Sir. And you’re going to call him for this?” “I will. I have to. My back is against the wall.” “God bless you, man! You better think twice.” I said, “Sometimes life doesn’t give you the opportunity to think twice. It’s the first and the only chance! I must grab it before it’s too late! I will call him. I’ll make my attempt—if it works, it works; if not, so be it. If I don’t try, it definitely won’t work. Thank you, bhai!” Right after finishing that conversation, without any second thoughts, I called Rahi Sir. A man with an extremely serious voice. It’s frightening just to speak with him. But I have nothing left to lose. I only know this: I passed IBA’s written exam and IBA has to conduct my interview. I had truly become reckless. I blurted out my entire problem in one breath. Rahi Sir said, “You silly kid! You’ve dared to call Rahi Sir for this! Did you think I am your friend? It’s not my business whether you can attend the viva board or not. You have only 2 choices: Leave IBA, or, Leave BCS.” To my infinite amazement, I heard myself saying, “Sir, I have called you to hear about the third choice. If you don’t have that, please make it for me. I know I’ll be at IBA.” Sir said very loudly over the phone, “You are a stupid little boy. You just know nothing about the things here! Don’t waste my time. I am busy!” “Sir, please give me a chance. I am………” I couldn’t make him hear any more—he hung up before that. I couldn’t understand what had happened, only felt an even stronger desire to believe that I would definitely study at IBA. BCS seemed to fade for a moment. Whatever happens in tomorrow’s exam will happen. Right now I need to sort out the IBA situation first. I called the program office again.

I asked, “When can I actually meet Rahi sir?” “What do you mean?” “Sir told me to come see him.” “Ask sir himself when you can actually meet him.” (I mustered the courage to lie….) “Sir said to call the program office and find out.” “He told you to ask us? Really! Alright, stay on the line, let me check sir’s class schedule.” Zakir bhai informed me that if I came next Friday evening, I could meet sir. Saying “thank you very much,” I hung up the phone and immediately left home to buy a bus ticket. From near Gariullah Shah’s shrine in Chittagong, I bought a ticket on Unique’s non-AC bus to Dhaka for Thursday night. The next day, under tremendous mental pressure, I took my Bangladesh Studies Paper 1 exam. Even in the exam hall, my mind kept racing: “Will Rahi sir keep his word?” In my answer sheet, I mistakenly wrote the word “Rahi” several times, though I crossed it out later.

I arrived at IBA before afternoon on Friday. I stood waiting in front of the MBA Program Office. Zakir bhai wasn’t there at the time—he came in the evening, two hours later. I went up and introduced myself. “Oh, I see, you’ve come from Chittagong. Rahi sir mentioned he would speak with you about changing your interview schedule? Really??” “Yes, he told me to come see him!” We were talking when Rahi sir arrived shortly after. He went straight through the program office into his room. A dignified man of serious disposition. His office was right next to the program office. Zakir bhai said, “Please sit on the sofa. Let me ask sir if he’s free right now.” When he told sir, “Someone named Sushanta Pal has come from Chittagong to see you—you had asked him to come,” sir immediately shouted quite loudly, “I didn’t ask anyone to come see me! Tell him to leave. Disgusting!” Zakir bhai told me, “Sir won’t see you. You should go.” “I’ll leave, but only after meeting with sir. Brother, I haven’t come here to turn back. I must see him.” Almost forcefully, I entered sir’s room without permission. After I said very politely, “Assalamu alaikum, sir,” he returned the greeting and said, “What do you want?” There were several other students in the room who had come to sir for various matters. “Sir, I called you the day before yesterday evening.” “Is it my duty to remember your call? Get out!” I said nothing and stood there with my head bowed. The words “Get out!” didn’t register in my mind. At that moment, I only knew that I would speak with Rahi sir about changing the schedule, and sir would surely agree to do so. After standing like this for nearly half an hour, sir said, “Why are you standing here like a statue?” I fearfully placed an application about changing the time slot on sir’s desk and began to say, “Sir, the day before yesterday I spoke with you on the phone…” “Speak in the language I am using now.” “Sir, my interview has been scheduled for next Monday at 10 in the morning. I am appearing for the 30th BCS written exam. I have an exam at the same time. So, I request you to shift my schedule to another convenient time slot.” “Sorry, we cannot.” “Please Sir! Otherwise, my dream to be here will be shattered.” “Let it be. Just go for BCS. You will do better being a civil servant.” “But Sir, it’s uncertain.” “Is being here certain for you?” “No Sir, that’s why I cannot leave any of these 2 opportunities. Please Sir, give me a chance. Do me a favour. I will be ever grateful, Sir.” “What time is your exam?” “10 o’clock, sir.” “How long?” “Three hours, sir.” “Okay fine, come straight here after your exam. Can you make it by 1:30?” I realized sir had forgotten that I’d come from Chittagong. “Sir, I’m taking the exam from Chittagong.” “Stupid! We cannot change our schedule for you! Are you Mr President?” “No Sir, I just want to be your student! I will do anything you tell me to do. Please give me a chance, Sir!” “Look, brother, you won’t be able to finish your exam at 1 o’clock and come from Chittagong to take the interview anyway.

You won’t make it even if you leave at 10 PM. The roads are in terrible condition, there’s heavy traffic.” “Sir, I can come in the evening.” “How? By plane?” “Yes, sir. Please give me a chance, sir.” “Alright. Don’t you have an exam the next day?” “I do, sir. I can manage. I’ll buy a return ticket.” “What time can you arrive?” “Whatever you say, sir.” “Your exam will end at 1 PM. Hmm… okay, can you make it to the 3 o’clock board?” “Yes sir, I can be there at 3.” “Do you know if there are flights at that time?” “I don’t know, sir. I’ll find out.” “I think there’s a flight around 3.” “What time can you arrive?” “4 o’clock, sir?” “Foolish boy! Your brain isn’t working. How can you take a 3 o’clock flight from Chittagong and get from the airport to IBA by 4? You have no idea about Dhaka city. Okay, you come by 5:15 sharp. You will be last person in that board. If you come after that, nothing can be done. The evening board is for Executive MBA. It won’t be possible to hold your viva there. Okay?” “Thank you, sir.” “Youngman, you have decided to play with your life! Best of luck!” “Please pray for me, sir. I can do this!” Tears came to my eyes. I realized that though this man appeared stern on the outside, he was very gentle within. I offered many prayers for the sir and left IBA. I went to Aziz and bought some books. Then I went to Fakirapul and took the 10 PM non-AC bus from Unique, reaching Chittagong in the morning.

I’m sharing the application with you:

15 January 2011

The Program Director, MBA Program

Institute of Business Administration

University of Dhaka

Dhaka

Subject: Prayer for changing the time slot of the interview schedule of the MBA Program Admission

Sir,

This letter expresses my earnest request to change my interview schedule of the MBA Program Admission 2010-2011. I am a candidate for Full-Time Course, my admit number is 2745 and I am on Interview Board 6 scheduled to be conducted at the 10:00 am to 1:00 pm time slot on January 17, 2011. I am appearing at the 30th BCS written examination and my Examination Centre is at Chittagong. I have an examination on January 17, 2011, coincided with the same time slot of the interview and so it is not possible for me to come from Chittagong and attend the interview at 10:00 am.

I will be highly obliged if you kindly permit me to attend the interview at the 6:00 pm to 8:30 pm time slot scheduled for Evening Board 3 and Evening Board 4 on January 17, 2011.

Yours faithfully

Sushanta Paul

I had never been on a plane before. I thought that wherever you go, you need a passport to fly. My elder brother called a friend who works with passport services and asked what documents are needed for an emergency passport to Dhaka. He burst out laughing! He said, “Buddy, what do you need a passport for? A plane and a bus are the same thing. One flies in the sky, the other runs on the road. That’s all there is to it! Just go buy a ticket. That’s it! Which one is good? You can go with GMG. That’s pretty good.” I didn’t know that you don’t have to rush to the airport to buy a plane ticket. I had no idea how much tickets cost. Getting off the bus in the morning, I went straight to a Dutch-Bangla Bank booth and withdrew ten thousand taka. Then I jumped into a CNG and rushed to the airport. I bought a ticket from the GMG Airlines counter for the 3:20 flight on Monday, the 17th. That was the first Chittagong-Dhaka flight of the afternoon. I booked a return ticket for the same day on the 7:45 evening flight. I felt like I could see it right before my eyes—me attending classes at IBA! Such a strange vision! I returned home with a victorious smile, almost as if I had already gotten into IBA! At night, I tried to prepare from various guides and the internet about what they might ask in the IBA interview. I studied for about 4-5 hours. At the same time, I posted a status on Facebook: How much time does it take to reach Dhaka University from Dhaka International Airport? Is it possible to reach in 40 minutes? Friends, any suggestion, please? I was truly a very simple person back then. I saw the world in very simple terms. Since I hadn’t visited Dhaka much, I didn’t know that in 2011 it wasn’t possible to get from the airport to Shahbag in 40 minutes. Everyone was saying it would take a minimum of two hours to get from the airport to the university campus in the afternoon. All sorts of bizarre comments came in reply to my status. Many started making fun of me. I’ll share some of my friends’ suggestions: “It’s possible if you run.” “It would be great if you jogged to the university. You’d get your evening exercise too!” “You shouldn’t have bought that plane ticket! With that money, if you had thrown us a party, we all would have prayed together and your BCS would have worked out! Hahahaha…..” “Young man! You’re young, just run as soon as you get off the plane! You’ll see, you’ll reach before time!” “Listen, such-and-such bus runs on such-and-such route. Hanging and sleeping, you’ll reach IBA just fine!” I got many such absurd comments. I knew absolutely nothing about Dhaka then. When you’re in trouble, doesn’t everyone have to give you a kick? It began to feel like that’s just how life is! People can’t extend a hand to pull you up, but they can certainly extend a foot to kick you down! Without getting the least bit discouraged by anyone’s words, I kept waiting to see if someone would give some good advice. I didn’t react to anyone’s reply that day. How helplessly calm a person becomes when in trouble. All I knew was this: “I’m giving my IBA interview on the 17th.” One person wrote, “You can go by bike. There’s no faster way to reach the university campus.” Some people even supported that idea. A few mentioned taxi cabs. Support was strongest for the bike option. Up until then, I had ridden a bike maybe 2-3 times in my entire life, counting generously. I didn’t really know anyone in Dhaka who had a bike, or if I did know someone, my mind wasn’t working at all then. Sometimes I think now, alas!

I couldn’t even afford to manage a bike at that time. I wrote, “My flight is scheduled to land at Dhaka Airport at 4.10 pm on 17 January. I must reach Dhaka University at or before 5.15 pm. I’ve an interview at IBA at that time. . . . Can’t I do it? Is it not possible? I need to do it at any cost. As I don’t know about the routes of Dhaka City, I’m asking for your help. Dhaka City is an unknown city to me. Can a taxi cab help me reach there in 1 hour? I can’t be late, otherwise I’ll miss the interview schedule. I’ve managed that schedule today through an application. . . Can a bike be a better solution? Or, something else? I’m in great trouble. . . .” After posting this, the mocking and laughter began all over again. I replied to the distinguished gentleman (one of Bangladesh’s most successful businessmen) who had advised me to jog there: “Thank you Sir for you ‘jogging’ suggestion. I was also seriously thinking of this option. Yes, I’ll surely manage to reach in time by vehicles, on foot, again by vehicles, again on foot . . . . And, I’ll go. I’ll be there in time by any means.” Someone said, “Change the schedule once more.” I wrote, “The schedule can’t be changed! Hopefully, there will happen some miracle and I’ll manage to avail the schedule in time.” A younger brother wrote, “Brother, you should go by taxi-cab. But you could try the bus once. Dhaka buses run quite well!” I replied, “Brother, I’m not surely making any attempt of getting on a bus! That’ll be horrible, you know. I was just seeking for a suggestion as I don’t know about the route. Thanks for the suggestion. I think a CNG powered taxi can help me in this regard. A taxi-cab is prone to getting stuck up in the congestion forever. A bike could be a better solution. But, I can’t manage it.”

Mrs. Zohra, whose name was Ira—an extremely distinguished lady—commented, “You need a bike?” “That would be wonderful.” “Alright, let me see what I can do.” She was the Deputy Managing Director of ONE Bank. After completing her studies in Chemistry from Chittagong University, she had done her MBA from IBA. She worked in the corporate sector, but there were very few people who didn’t know her. I have a sister. Her name is Sharmin Muiz Khan. At that time, she was one of those rare souls who loved someone as insignificant as me far more than necessary, showered me with affection for no particular reason. She was almost my mother’s age, but I addressed her as ‘tumi’ and she called me ‘tui’. She had studied English Literature at Dhaka University. She particularly loved my writing. She was a business magnate and had connections with many prominent people. I have rarely seen a lady as distinguished, refined, elegant, and utterly graceful as her. She commented, “Bappi, someone needs to grab you and give you a good thrashing. Are you enjoying confusing everyone by calling them all the time? Please stop wasting your time browsing Facebook and concentrate on tomorrow’s exam. Otherwise, you’re calling for another disaster. There is a saying: ‘Que sera, sera’ meaning: Whatever will be, will be. So, pray and try your best. I have given this opinion after a lot of serious thoughts. Please follow it. You will leave here right now. I don’t want to see you making even one more comment! MIRACLES HAPPEN IF YOU BELIEVE IN YOURSELF!” I replied, “Didi, things are that they’re. Things will be that they will be. And, between this two there lie some miracles that we’re never aware of. And, miracles are often stranger than facts. Facts are because they’re. Miracles are because we or someone else wants them to be. That’s the truth!” She called Mrs. Zohra. She said, “Look Ira, my brother has gotten into a bit of trouble. The poor thing is a simple soul, we should do something for him. Can’t you arrange a bike for him?” A little while later, I saw a message from Mrs. Zohra in my inbox: “Please give me your contact number. Regards” I gave it immediately. The call came within seconds. After introducing herself, she said, “You need a bike Monday at 4 PM, right?” “That would be wonderful.” “OK, a bike will be there for you at 4. My colleague Romel will pick you. Alright?” “I am truly, truly grateful. Thank you so very much!” “Let’s get the work done first, then you can thank me. I’m texting you Romel’s number. Take care.” She hung up immediately. I wrote to her: “Life is stranger than fiction, I repeat. From myself, I’ve got much less than I truly deserve. From others, I’ve got much more than I truly deserve. Is it the thing that they call miracle? I don’t know and never try to know. I let miracles happen and thankfully they always happen . . . . . . . Thank you for your generous approach. This really means a lot to me.” I wrote my piece. I don’t know if she ever read it or had the time to read it. Noble souls don’t wait for thanks. Besides, she was truly, truly busy.

He was the head of the credit section at One Bank. He had no reason to know a nobody like me, yet he knew me through my writing. Otherwise, I would never have had the privilege of speaking with him directly. And the fact that Sharmin didi had spoken to him about me—that was a big deal too. The next day was the Bangladesh Affairs Paper 2 exam. I went to sleep without studying any of it. The day after, straight from the exam hall, I went to the Westex showroom at Probortak intersection. My life’s first interview. I was incredibly excited! I had decided I’d go to the interview board wearing everything brand new. I bought a formal white shirt, black pants, black tie, black belt, black socks, white undershirt, and brown shoes. Later, from Gallery Apex I bought formal Oxford shoes, and from Time Zone a Titan wristwatch, then returned home in the evening. Seeing my antics, Ma was laughing. “Ma, why are you laughing?” “Just because, dear.” The funny thing was, Ma went with me to the exam hall every single day. She always kept me close, just like a child. Ma said, “Tomorrow I’m going to the airport with you.” And she did go—despite my protests.

Monday, the 17th. International Affairs exam. I couldn’t stay in the exam hall for the entire time due to nerves. I don’t have a car, what if the CNG takes too long to reach the airport! What if I miss the flight! The flight was at 3:20. And it takes at least 2 hours to reach the airport from Omar Gani MES College by 1 PM. Our written exam had been during winter. In the bitter cold, my fingers would freeze. Still, I kept rubbing my palms together to warm them, blowing hot breath into the hollow of my cupped hands, and wrote with all my strength. Instead of 1 o’clock, I finished the exam at 12:30, submitted my paper, and rushed out. When I emerged from the hall and reached the gate, everyone thought I must have been expelled! The intense stress was clearly written all over my face. Many showed me sympathy, told me not to worry, advised me to do better in the next BCS. I didn’t have time to respond. What could I say anyway—at that moment, life itself was one giant question mark for me! I don’t know what strength possessed my mother. She ran almost twice as fast as me, covering the distance from the college campus to the road. We got into a CNG without bargaining, paying nearly one and a half times the normal fare. I told the driver, “However you manage it, get us to the airport within two hours. If necessary, I’ll pay you extra.” It was 12:50 on the clock. The CNG started speeding. Mother opened the tiffin box and fed me khichuri, meat, and fried egg. One thought kept spinning in my head: “Will I catch the plane? If we get stuck in traffic, it’s all over!” I took off my sweater. I had left home that morning wearing my viva outfit, everything except the tie. After escaping two minor traffic jams, when we reached the airport, it was 5 minutes to 3. As soon as I got down, I touched my mother’s and aunt’s feet in respect (a distant aunt had come with us since mother couldn’t return home from the airport alone) and ran to the counter. There I learned that the flight was delayed by an hour due to dense fog. I thought, if the plane leaves at that time, there’s no way I can reach IBA by 5:15. I informed the counter staff about this. They said there was nothing they could do; they were very sorry. I inquired and learned that no other flights were departing at that time either. At that moment, I felt utterly helpless, just wanting to cry. I felt like I had no one, no one at all! I kept going from counter to counter. I found out there was a Bangladesh Biman flight departing at 3:45. There was no other flight before that. It was a bigger plane, taking 30 minutes to reach, whereas other planes take at least 40 minutes. Meaning, I would reach Dhaka airport by 4:15! I bought the ticket right then. There was great hope in my heart—if this one leaves on time, there’s nothing more to worry about. I went to the airport restroom and quickly put on my tie. I adjusted my shirt once more. Looking in the mirror, I fixed my hair with my hand. The clock hand crossed 4 after passing 3:45. The plane was delayed due to fog. We all boarded the plane at 4:15. It was my first time on a plane. I kept thinking, when will it take off, when will it take off! Every second felt like an hour! The tension was making it hard to breathe, yet the plane wouldn’t take off. I thought, oh! If only I could spend all my strength to make this plane soar into the sky! I pressed my handkerchief over my eyes to hide my tears. Finally, the plane took off. It was 4:37 on the clock. I was thinking, oh!

The plane could have taken off directly without taxiing! At least a couple of minutes would have been saved! The plane landed on Dhaka’s runway at 5:13.

I burst out of the domestic terminal running with all my might, and gasping for breath, I saw a motorcycle come to a stop right in front of me. “You’re Sushanta, right? Get on the back!” I extended my hand to shake hands with the young man in the black helmet. He didn’t raise his black-gloved right fist for a handshake. “Time’s wasting, brother! Please get on! Quick!” I didn’t argue further. “You’re not used to riding bikes, are you?” “Yes. How did you know?” “Brother, I’ve been riding bikes for the past 18-20 years. I can tell.” “I see.” “Lean forward and press your chest firmly against my back! You can even wrap your arms around me, otherwise you’ll get thrown off. For sure! I’m going to ride fast.” The way that bike tore out of the airport—I don’t have the courage to even think about it today. Under normal circumstances, I might have screamed in fear and told him to stop, or I really would have been thrown off. But at that moment I knew that being afraid was important, but far more important was reaching IBA alive. I don’t know if the wheels of that 150cc bike actually touched the ground that day, but for the second time in my life I understood this truth: you cannot frighten someone who stakes their life to touch their dreams. I had only seen bikes racing so recklessly on the roads in movies. The bike was literally cutting through the whooshing sound of wind, as if flying through the air! “Say brother, are you somebody really important?” “What do you mean?” “Well, Madam told me that one of her very important friends had to be delivered from the airport to IBA within half an hour, no matter what. That was her order! Who are you, brother? Hahahaha………” “I’m Madam’s Facebook friend.” “What are you saying, man? How’s that possible! I was thinking even more… you mean you’ve never even met her?” “No, brother. Why?” (There’s a railway crossing ahead. The barrier is coming down.) “Brother, duck your head a little.” Saying this, he quickly rode the bike under the barrier without obeying the signal. Many people behind us were shouting for us to stop. “Brother, just don’t be afraid. Nothing will happen. You can close your eyes if you want.” Right at that moment, while quickly emerging from between two trucks standing side by side, he said, “Sit a bit smaller, brother!” A little further ahead—massive traffic jam at a signal! Romel bhai lifted the bike onto the sidewalk. “Brother, please give way a little, give way a little,” he kept saying as he raced forward. He had to do this several times. Sometimes when riding on the central divider in the middle of the road, traffic police would catch us, and he’d say in a tearful voice, “Sir, my aunt is fighting for her life in the medical college. I’m going to donate blood. O-negative blood—we can’t find any. If I don’t reach on time, we won’t be able to save my aunt, sir!” He’d manage the police with this story and then race off at the same speed again! Whenever there was a traffic jam on the road, he’d immediately change to another road. That day I learned that when obstacles appear on the road, it doesn’t mean there is no road. Rather, it means you have to take a different road! Right now!! I had only seen such daredevil biking in Hollywood action movies. Looking at my hair in the bike’s mirror, it seemed as if it had stood up straight after an electric shock! My face was covered with dust from the city. In the fierce wind, my tie was flying behind me in the air. I don’t know if anyone has ever seen a bike race so recklessly through Dhaka’s roads during rush hour. But for some reason, I truly wasn’t afraid at all. I kept thinking over and over, “How quickly can one reach IBA!” Romel bhai had finished his honors and master’s from Dhaka College before joining the bank. I had asked him, “What’s your designation at the bank?” He had joked, “Not much, just 14 more promotions and I’ll be able to sit in Zohra Madam’s chair. Hahaha…….”

When I arrived in front of IBA, my watch showed 5:52. As I got down, I saw my younger brother Pappu and his friend Arefin standing there. At that time, I had my gift shop ‘Dobhana.’ Pappu and Arefin were my working partners. They often came to Dhaka from Chawk Bazaar in Old Dhaka to buy wholesale goods for the shop. I had withdrawn myself from the shop to focus on my BCS exam preparation. They ran everything. They were already in Dhaka on shop business. I had told them to go to the IBA MBA program office and keep me updated by phone about the viva board situation. Through repeated conversations with them, I was checking whether the interview board was still there, asking them to go to the program office and explain that I couldn’t arrive on time due to flight delays, terrible traffic jams, and so on. As soon as I got down, they informed me, “Bhaiya, the board left 4-5 minutes ago. Now only the Executive MBA viva remains.” After introducing them to Romel bhai, I rushed up to the MBA program office on the second floor. As soon as they saw me, everyone there stopped their work and looked at me. I saw Rahi Sir busy with something; he didn’t respond to my greeting. “Sir, I’m very late. Despite trying hard, I couldn’t arrive on time. I…” Without giving me a chance to say anything more, he shouted, “You Idiot! Get out!” “Sir, I…” “I said, Get out! Out! Out!! I knew very well that you wouldn’t be able to come on time. Is it possible to take one exam in Chittagong and then come to Dhaka for another exam? That easy? You’ve just wasted my time! I had told everyone that a boy from Chittagong would come at 5:15, and we needed to take his viva. Did you think I am a joker?” “Sir, I came here with great difficulty. The flight was delayed, there was heavy traffic on the road. I really…” “It’s none of my business! Get out! Go back where you came from.” “Sir, I had many dreams of studying at IBA.” “Everyone on the street has such dreams. I gave you a chance but you missed it. That’s all! Get out of here.” “Sir, please have some mercy…” (I felt like falling at his feet and crying…) Right beside him sat a gentle-looking gentleman much younger than the sir. He said, “Sir, I’ve heard about him. His younger brother kept coming to our program office. They had been standing in front of the office for hours. His flight was indeed delayed. And there’s heavy traffic in Dhaka today too. A friend of mine came to my room from the airport a while ago; it took him a long time to get here too. Give him a chance, Sir. He’s come so far, taking such risks with great difficulty! He apparently has another written exam tomorrow too. The poor fellow has to return to Chittagong today itself.” “Son, you junior faculty members don’t even know what you’re saying, what kind of requests you make. Why are you pleading for him? Is he your relative or something?” “No no Sir, I’m seeing him for the first time today. Just look at his face once, Sir. He’s really come here with great difficulty. Please do him a favor, Sir.” “You have no idea what you are talking about! Will the Executive MBA viva be the same as theirs? They have 3 years of job experience, while these are just children in comparison!

“This won’t be possible, brother. I am sorry!” “Sir, please help the poor fellow a bit. He’s come such a long way with so much hope!” “Son, we can’t manage anything more for you!” I stood a little distance away, head bowed. Looking at me, he called out loudly, “Hey, stupid! Why are you standing there like a donkey? Go on, go to the third floor! Go and stand there absolutely quietly. We’ll call you.” I truly couldn’t understand whether such a beautiful moment had ever come anywhere in this world before! Tears began streaming down my face. I prayed again and again from my heart for Babu sir. Rahi sir seemed like a father figure to me. I kept remembering mother’s words: “Never get angry at teachers’ scolding. When teachers scold, it means blessings.” Overwhelmed with emotion, as I was about to leave after thanking and saluting the teachers, Rahi sir called from behind, “Hey crazy boy! Comb your hair before entering the board! Wash your face at the basin! Don’t be so scared! Hahaha…” I couldn’t say anything more. I kept staring blankly at sir’s face. My cheeks were wet with tears from both eyes. Babu sir placed his hand on my shoulder and said, “Go on, go upstairs and wait. We are not that much bad people as you thought us to be. Sometimes even the IBA faculties are too good! Freshen up, give your interview properly, now there’s no tension anymore. What’s your exam tomorrow?” “Sir, Mathematical Reasoning and Mental Ability.” “How will you go?” “Sir, I have a return plane ticket.” “Good! Brother, splash some water on your eyes and face to fix your appearance. Give your viva quickly and rush to the airport! Good luck!” At that moment I felt like touching sir’s feet in salute. People get frightened by sudden intense love. For the first time, it suddenly struck me: “What if I can’t honor this love of my teachers? What if I don’t get a chance at IBA in the end?”

When we find ourselves in trouble, if our intentions are pure, a way out always emerges! I went to the washroom on the third floor and tried my best to “make myself presentable” by wetting my hair and smoothing it down. After splashing water on my face, I went and waited in front of the notice board. I was called after 10 minutes. It was nearly seven o’clock. When I entered the room, I saw many faculty members seated there. I hadn’t known that so many would be present for an interview. I thought this was perhaps how IBA interviews were conducted. I later learned that this entire panel had been assembled just for me. Apart from Babu Sir and Rahi Sir, I didn’t recognize anyone else. After getting admitted, I realized that those present that evening were IBA’s most senior and accomplished faculty members. The board included Saiful Majid Sir, Shama-e-Zahir Sir, Mamun Sir, Munir Khosru Sir, Niaz Sir, and Saif Noman Khan Sir. Most of the junior faculty had finished their interviews and gone home, while some senior faculty were in their offices conducting Executive MBA interviews. Some of them had been specially called in. I was in the interview for about 18-20 minutes. Many of the faculty members knew about my situation that day. I had heard of something called “divine possession” in life. At certain special moments, due to particular external influences or circumstances, people suddenly gain extraordinary power. In those moments, they step outside their normal state and display different behavior. They can harness the utmost potential of their inner infinite strength. In that wondrous balanced fusion of emotion and capability, the best version of themselves emerges. From the moment I entered the interview room, I had very likely become a different person, or perhaps the very best ‘me’ from within had emerged that day. By what divine signal this happened, I don’t know. No hesitation, doubt, nervousness, fear, the day’s exhaustion, or lethargy was affecting me at all. I felt incredibly composed and light as a feather. It felt as though whatever I was saying or doing was the best possible. I was experiencing the finest moment of my life right then and there. I can say with complete honesty that the style in which I spoke English that day—I have never in my entire life, even to this day, been able to speak English so flawlessly and fluently. That day the faculty members engaged in various kinds of humor during the interview. They were having great fun with me. Most likely, the faculty wanted to “shake me up” somehow. I don’t know why, by whose indication I don’t know, but I kept answering all their questions one by one with a very cool head and a smile that day. They interviewed me in English on various diverse topics, starting from describing the entire day’s events and the preceding Facebook incidents to many other subjects. (Of course, at IBA there’s absolutely no opportunity to give interviews in Bengali.) Why I wanted to pursue an MBA, why IBA if I was going to take government job exams anyway, my weaknesses, whether I’d ever been in love, how I spend my leisure time, some conversation about reading books, various economic issues of Bangladesh, some personal and family matters, my future plans, the breathless motorcycle journey from A to Z, the BCS examination system, why I went into engineering despite having no interest, why I delayed my honors degree, why I didn’t study properly, why my CGPA was so low, what I like to eat, what kind of personality I prefer in people, what I know about IBA, some current affairs, and several other questions. I was answering very quickly in correct English. The faculty praised this too. I gave a very simple, straightforward, and candid interview. I didn’t speak a single false word that day.

I didn’t need to think before speaking—whatever came to mind, I simply said, so there was no chance to fabricate lies. At the end, they asked me to sing a song. When I said, “I can’t, Sir,” Babu Sir showed me my info-form and laughed, saying, “But you’ve claimed so.” I had written Reading, Writing, Singing in the hobbies section… At that moment, it felt like I was living the best day of my life. I sang, “Aaj ei dintake…” “I see, we’re getting a singer for our cultural program!” As Saiful Majid Sir was saying this, Babu Sir interjected, “Sir, he has another exam tomorrow. He’ll probably be flying back to Chittagong tonight.” Then three or four teachers exclaimed in unison, “What! He’s going back to Chittagong right now? Well then, run along, run along! Go downstairs and see if your superman biker is there! Hahahaha…” As I was leaving with my salaam, the teachers called out, “Best of luck for your tomorrow’s exam.” I kept thinking, again and again—I’ll make it, I’ll make it! (Even after giving the BCS viva, I didn’t feel this good.)

When I stepped out of IBA, it was half past seven on the clock. I knew there was no way I could catch the 7:45 flight. I also knew that I had no idea how I would get to Chittagong that night. I didn’t even feel like thinking about it. Only the exhilarating rush of having given a good exam was coursing through me. Pappu and Arefin had been waiting for me at Madhu’s canteen. Taking them along, I went to the front of Dhaka University’s Central Library and leisurely began eating vegetable pakoras and tea. Many of my students studied in various departments at Dhaka University. Quite a few came to see me. They were asking what questions had been asked in the interview. After a day of incredible experiences, my head had become almost entirely empty. I couldn’t understand why I wasn’t feeling the slightest urgency to return to Chittagong. Pappu asked, “Brother, will you take the night bus?” I said, “Yes, that could work.” (It amuses me now to think how casually I had said ‘that could work’!) The road conditions weren’t good then either, there were always traffic jams. It didn’t even occur to me—what would happen if I couldn’t reach by 10 AM tomorrow? Ripon, a dear younger brother who lived in Chittagong and was one of my former students, said, “Brother, I have a non-AC train ticket; for Turna Nishitha, leaving tonight. It doesn’t matter if I don’t go to Chittagong today. Brother, you take it.” “Alright, fine,” I said, took the ticket, and set off toward Kamalapur Station. That night the train left nearly an hour and a half late. I didn’t even want to think about what was going to happen! I had already surrendered myself to fate long before. In my mind I kept repeating only this: whatever will be, will be. Whether I want it or not, it will happen. And whatever is happening is surely for the good; whatever will happen will surely be for the good too. Let’s see! After the day’s exhaustion, I had a very peaceful sleep. Suddenly I woke up hearing commotion around me. The train had stopped at Comilla. Apparently there was some problem with the line. We were delayed there for nearly two and a quarter hours. I couldn’t understand why I wasn’t feeling any kind of anxiety! I fell asleep again. Sleep is the world’s only faithful lover. Whenever I want it, I find it near. Never, under any circumstances, does it abandon me. There can be no purer love than the love for sleep.

When the train reached Chittagong railway station the next day, it was a quarter to ten in the morning. My exam was scheduled to start at ten. It takes only fifteen minutes to get from the station to my house. When I got home, I found my mother sitting there with everything ready in her hands—my pencil box, board, scale, pen, calculator, admit card, registration card, all of it. My parents had been terribly anxious at home. I hadn’t been able to speak to them since after half past one at night. My mobile had run out of charge. (I was using a cheap Nokia 1100 mobile set back then. Everyone called it the “national set”! It was so sturdy that many would joke, “Dude, you could crack jackfruit with that phone!” I’d tease my friends who used expensive mobiles, saying, “My phone’s model is ‘N Eleven Zero Zero’!”) As soon as my mother saw me, she said, “Dear, how are you? Will you take today’s exam?” I felt emotionally numb. It seemed as though I was lighter than a feather at that moment, floating around in some kind of trance! I smiled and said, “Ma, I’m perfectly fine. I’ll take the exam.” Saying this, I took the packed shopping bag from my mother’s hands and left the house just as I was. It was 10:05 on the clock. From our house to the exam center, it takes at least thirty minutes by CNG during office hours. When I reached the college gate, it was 10:43. That day was the mathematical reasoning and mental ability test. The first two hours were mathematical reasoning, followed by one hour of mental ability. The exam had already started forty-three minutes earlier. Naturally, the police wouldn’t let me enter. I pleaded extensively, kept trying futilely to explain what had happened, but they weren’t willing to listen to anything. But I had made up my mind—I wasn’t going to turn back, I would get inside no matter what. A small commotion started gathering there. Seeing the crowd, the magistrate came over. After hearing my entire story, he said, “You only have one hour left. Can you finish all the math problems in this time?” Without a moment’s hesitation, I said, “I can, sir!” “Alright, go ahead. Good luck!” My heart overflowed with gratitude toward him. At that moment, he seemed to me not human, but divine! I went in, looked at the questions, took the exam. I even showed three problems to the person sitting next to me. (He got a job in Audit and Accounts in the 30th batch.) I scored 98 on that day’s exam—50 in math, 48 in mental ability. After that… well, as everyone says—the rest is history!

But this much is true: had that day’s exam been something other than mathematics, I would have been in real trouble. I can handle math because the type of problems that appeared in the BCS written exam back then weren’t particularly difficult for me to solve. Such problems don’t strain the mind much, and the 30th BCS written exam featured relatively easy math. Even if I worked through each step carefully and added side notes, it shouldn’t have taken more than half an hour. It didn’t for me either. However, spending two and a half hours on the International Affairs exam the day before had been risky. Actually, no matter how incredible the whole affair might seem, everything appears to have been predetermined by the Creator or nature itself. What remains inexplicable to our limited understanding is simply a natural, ordinary occurrence for the Creator. All our failures and successes are already decided beforehand. But to reach that point, the effort—or making the right decision at the right time—that we must do ourselves. I wasn’t even supposed to pass my undergraduate degree. Yet it was my destiny to complete my undergraduate studies, become a BCS cadre, study at IBA—all of it was written in my fate. Had my destiny been bound elsewhere, I would have gone there instead. I had enrolled in another master’s program under Dhaka University—MDS. After continuing that course for three months, I left it of my own accord. They had said I would need to officially hide the fact that I was simultaneously pursuing another master’s at IBA. I refused to lie. I harbor no regret about this, though. I’ve accepted that pursuing that particular master’s degree simply wasn’t written in my destiny. This is the truth, this is reality. I had gained admission to Dhaka University’s Evening MBA program in Finance, ranking sixth on the merit list, but never had to attend classes there. I received my IBA admission test results before that. I did complete my master’s in Finance from Dhaka University, but the Evening MBA program wasn’t destined for me, so I didn’t pursue my master’s degree from there.

Stepping into two boats in the middle of a river ensures certain death. Logic dictates this. But I placed my feet in two boats, taking the maximum risk—I had no other choice—yet both boats moved forward in parallel at the same speed at the same time, so I didn’t slip between them and lose my life. What explanation could there be for this? Life doesn’t follow logic; life follows the Creator’s signals. Life doesn’t always operate according to explanations. Sometimes life moves on faith. So there’s nothing to say about anyone’s personal philosophy and the life they live according to their beliefs, as long as that life doesn’t interfere with someone else’s way of living. Somewhere, no explicable form of life can be seen, and life is just like this!

Through sheer mental strength alone, I had believed that some miracle would surely occur. It did happen, because in Providence’s master plan, that’s what was meant to happen. Everything in between was the Creator’s games or plans to test my patience and concentration. You will never be given a gift you don’t deserve. You will be tested, and if you fail to pass that test, you will deprive yourself of the Creator’s grace through your own fault. I’m sharing with you the Facebook status I posted after the IBA admission test results came out, along with a couple of my own comments on it:

Friends, I’ve been finally selected for admission into the MBA Program of IBA, Dhaka University. …… feeling happy. ……. HATS OFF to Sharmeen didi, Ira madam & Romel bhai!!

# My dear friends….. Your gorgeous presence on my wall makes me think twice about the POWER of friendship & the MAGIC of love. YES……… They matter!! I just want to be with you forever. Please never say GOODBYE…. It hurts!! Your kindness and care mean a lot to me. You’ve always given me much more than I really deserve. Please accept my sincere GRATITUDE.

Happy Social Networking!!

Long live Facebook!!

My best wishes for our Friendship!!

……… Love you all ……

# (To one of my close friends) Dost, not reaching the Interview Session on 17 January at 5:30 pm was what I thought to be….. reaching there in time was what was written in my DESTINY….. And, I ended up calling it a MIRACLE, something I never believed in before…… Just have a look at the schedule of 17 January……

International Affairs Exam (BCS written exam)…. 10:00 am — 1:00 pm

The departure time of the GMG Airlines: 3:20 pm, there was a delay of about 1 hour due to fog and I availed another delayed flight of Bangladesh Biman at 4:37 pm.

The plane landed on Dhaka Airport at 5:13 pm and then I started my fight against time to meet the deadline by bike with Romel bhai!! Who managed those three saviours (Sharmeen didi, Ira madam & Romel bhai) for me? I don’t know. You better ask the Heaven! I saw such a breath-taking motor-bike driving only in English movies. Before that day, I had never thought I would experience it!!

Life is sometimes stranger than fiction . . . . Who can tell it better than I?

# (To one of my senior high-profile Indian friends) Thank you Sir for your words of felicitation. IBA of Dhaka University is considered as the most prestigious institute for doing MBA in Bangladesh. As per the rules of that Business School, the Major/Field of Specialization is allowed to be chosen at the final semester judging the academic records & intention of a candidate. I don’t have much idea about what to choose and why to choose. Please share some ideas on it as you’ve huge practical knowledge (so far as I know) about the present corporate trend.

You’ve nicely stated the trend of our careerist B-school graduates. No one really cares about their own aptitude, rather, tries to be what market wants them to be. Personally, I always like the decision-making and mainstream operational sections of giant companies. And, probably I’ll go for finance as my major when I’ve to choose it in my final semester. Yes, my semester results must be well enough to work on my advantage. That’ll be a story of one and a half years later. Till then, I’ll have to undergo the generalized curriculum as my B-school formulates. The recent economic recession worries our friends studying at the US universities. And, almost all of them suggest me not to plan of staying there. But at the same time, they suggest me completing my PhD in the US if I want to and grab that opportunity. Let’s wait and see. . . . . Are you in India now? Hope you’re quite OK along with your busy schedule. Please, sometimes give me your valuable suggestions when you’ve time and you’re here on Facebook. . . . . Thank you once again for your helpful advice. Take care.

In explaining the final part of the status shared above, I had written these words:

Let me share the Story behind the Story and elucidate the last part of my status. It would have been quite impossible for me to reach Dhaka University from Dhaka International Airport within just 50 minutes (!!) to attend the interview session of IBA in time on Jan 17, but for the cordial help of Sharmeen didi (Sharmeen Muiz) & Ira madam (Johora Bebe Ira). They’re the persons who made that miracle happen!! And, Romel bhai (Monirul Alam Romel) is the “Man with the Bike” who dared fight against time to meet the deadline!! ……. I feel honoured to express my heartfelt gratitude to these three saviours. …….. Miracles Happen When You Believe!!

I conclude this piece with a beautifully strange comment Sharmeen didi made on that status: “My prayers, good wishes, and prayers remain with you. Dear brother of mine, may you grow to great heights. And may the successful reflection of our efforts (Ira’s and mine) shine through in everything you do. I was there, I am here, I will be there. …….. Heaps of hugs and love.”

What sustains a human being? We live on love, on prayers, on good wishes. These are what keep me alive—quite well alive, in fact. My gratitude!

P.S. Let me offer you some practical wisdom. Those who think they know too much, who consider themselves supremely intelligent, who speak in grand terms without any real qualifications or notable position, who try to diminish others even through outright lies, who pontificate without knowledge, who speak to you in such a manner that you begin to doubt your own confidence—I would advise you to absolutely, absolutely, and absolutely avoid such people. They themselves cannot go very far in life, nor will they allow you to go very far either.

(Written 2-3 years ago)

I thought, why should I surrender before I’ve even lost? I’ll see this through to the end. At home, my parents were also saying, “Give up one of them.” My heart was telling me, “I won’t give up, not for anything!” Let me gamble with life this once and see what happens! You have to listen to your heart. I called the MBA Program Office. Zakir bhai was in charge there. He said, “IBA’s schedule doesn’t change for anyone. You change your schedule.” I said, “That’s not possible. You have several slots. BCS has only one.” Even after that he said, “It’s not possible in any way. We’re sorry!” Saying this, he hung up the phone, and my stubbornness only grew stronger. I put aside studying for the next day’s exam. After some inquiries, I learned that Rahi Sir was the Program Chairman for IBA’s MBA at the time. Only he could change my interview slot if he wanted to. Rahi Sir is an incredibly fierce person. IBA’s Marketing Department is the best in Bangladesh. Rahi Sir is the best faculty in that department. I got his number. The person I got the number from asked, “Are you really going to call Rahi Sir?” “Yes. Why?” “We students never dare to call Sir. And you’re going to call him for this?” “I will. I have to. My back is against the wall.” “God bless you, man! You better think twice.” I said, “Sometimes life doesn’t give you the opportunity to think twice. It’s the first and the only chance! I must grab it before it’s too late! I will call him. I’ll make my attempt—if it works, it works; if not, so be it. If I don’t try, it definitely won’t work. Thank you, bhai!” Right after finishing that conversation, without any second thoughts, I called Rahi Sir. A man with an extremely serious voice. It’s frightening just to speak with him. But I have nothing left to lose. I only know this: I passed IBA’s written exam and IBA has to conduct my interview. I had truly become reckless. I blurted out my entire problem in one breath. Rahi Sir said, “You silly kid! You’ve dared to call Rahi Sir for this! Did you think I am your friend? It’s not my business whether you can attend the viva board or not. You have only 2 choices: Leave IBA, or, Leave BCS.” To my infinite amazement, I heard myself saying, “Sir, I have called you to hear about the third choice. If you don’t have that, please make it for me. I know I’ll be at IBA.” Sir said very loudly over the phone, “You are a stupid little boy. You just know nothing about the things here! Don’t waste my time. I am busy!” “Sir, please give me a chance. I am………” I couldn’t make him hear any more—he hung up before that. I couldn’t understand what had happened, only felt an even stronger desire to believe that I would definitely study at IBA. BCS seemed to fade for a moment. Whatever happens in tomorrow’s exam will happen. Right now I need to sort out the IBA situation first. I called the program office again.

I asked, “When can I actually meet Rahi sir?” “What do you mean?” “Sir told me to come see him.” “Ask sir himself when you can actually meet him.” (I mustered the courage to lie….) “Sir said to call the program office and find out.” “He told you to ask us? Really! Alright, stay on the line, let me check sir’s class schedule.” Zakir bhai informed me that if I came next Friday evening, I could meet sir. Saying “thank you very much,” I hung up the phone and immediately left home to buy a bus ticket. From near Gariullah Shah’s shrine in Chittagong, I bought a ticket on Unique’s non-AC bus to Dhaka for Thursday night. The next day, under tremendous mental pressure, I took my Bangladesh Studies Paper 1 exam. Even in the exam hall, my mind kept racing: “Will Rahi sir keep his word?” In my answer sheet, I mistakenly wrote the word “Rahi” several times, though I crossed it out later.

I arrived at IBA before afternoon on Friday. I stood waiting in front of the MBA Program Office. Zakir bhai wasn’t there at the time—he came in the evening, two hours later. I went up and introduced myself. “Oh, I see, you’ve come from Chittagong. Rahi sir mentioned he would speak with you about changing your interview schedule? Really??” “Yes, he told me to come see him!” We were talking when Rahi sir arrived shortly after. He went straight through the program office into his room. A dignified man of serious disposition. His office was right next to the program office. Zakir bhai said, “Please sit on the sofa. Let me ask sir if he’s free right now.” When he told sir, “Someone named Sushanta Pal has come from Chittagong to see you—you had asked him to come,” sir immediately shouted quite loudly, “I didn’t ask anyone to come see me! Tell him to leave. Disgusting!” Zakir bhai told me, “Sir won’t see you. You should go.” “I’ll leave, but only after meeting with sir. Brother, I haven’t come here to turn back. I must see him.” Almost forcefully, I entered sir’s room without permission. After I said very politely, “Assalamu alaikum, sir,” he returned the greeting and said, “What do you want?” There were several other students in the room who had come to sir for various matters. “Sir, I called you the day before yesterday evening.” “Is it my duty to remember your call? Get out!” I said nothing and stood there with my head bowed. The words “Get out!” didn’t register in my mind. At that moment, I only knew that I would speak with Rahi sir about changing the schedule, and sir would surely agree to do so. After standing like this for nearly half an hour, sir said, “Why are you standing here like a statue?” I fearfully placed an application about changing the time slot on sir’s desk and began to say, “Sir, the day before yesterday I spoke with you on the phone…” “Speak in the language I am using now.” “Sir, my interview has been scheduled for next Monday at 10 in the morning. I am appearing for the 30th BCS written exam. I have an exam at the same time. So, I request you to shift my schedule to another convenient time slot.” “Sorry, we cannot.” “Please Sir! Otherwise, my dream to be here will be shattered.” “Let it be. Just go for BCS. You will do better being a civil servant.” “But Sir, it’s uncertain.” “Is being here certain for you?” “No Sir, that’s why I cannot leave any of these 2 opportunities. Please Sir, give me a chance. Do me a favour. I will be ever grateful, Sir.” “What time is your exam?” “10 o’clock, sir.” “How long?” “Three hours, sir.” “Okay fine, come straight here after your exam. Can you make it by 1:30?” I realized sir had forgotten that I’d come from Chittagong. “Sir, I’m taking the exam from Chittagong.” “Stupid! We cannot change our schedule for you! Are you Mr President?” “No Sir, I just want to be your student! I will do anything you tell me to do. Please give me a chance, Sir!” “Look, brother, you won’t be able to finish your exam at 1 o’clock and come from Chittagong to take the interview anyway.

You won’t make it even if you leave at 10 PM. The roads are in terrible condition, there’s heavy traffic.” “Sir, I can come in the evening.” “How? By plane?” “Yes, sir. Please give me a chance, sir.” “Alright. Don’t you have an exam the next day?” “I do, sir. I can manage. I’ll buy a return ticket.” “What time can you arrive?” “Whatever you say, sir.” “Your exam will end at 1 PM. Hmm… okay, can you make it to the 3 o’clock board?” “Yes sir, I can be there at 3.” “Do you know if there are flights at that time?” “I don’t know, sir. I’ll find out.” “I think there’s a flight around 3.” “What time can you arrive?” “4 o’clock, sir?” “Foolish boy! Your brain isn’t working. How can you take a 3 o’clock flight from Chittagong and get from the airport to IBA by 4? You have no idea about Dhaka city. Okay, you come by 5:15 sharp. You will be last person in that board. If you come after that, nothing can be done. The evening board is for Executive MBA. It won’t be possible to hold your viva there. Okay?” “Thank you, sir.” “Youngman, you have decided to play with your life! Best of luck!” “Please pray for me, sir. I can do this!” Tears came to my eyes. I realized that though this man appeared stern on the outside, he was very gentle within. I offered many prayers for the sir and left IBA. I went to Aziz and bought some books. Then I went to Fakirapul and took the 10 PM non-AC bus from Unique, reaching Chittagong in the morning.

I’m sharing the application with you:

15 January 2011

The Program Director, MBA Program

Institute of Business Administration

University of Dhaka

Dhaka

Subject: Prayer for changing the time slot of the interview schedule of the MBA Program Admission

Sir,

This letter expresses my earnest request to change my interview schedule of the MBA Program Admission 2010-2011. I am a candidate for Full-Time Course, my admit number is 2745 and I am on Interview Board 6 scheduled to be conducted at the 10:00 am to 1:00 pm time slot on January 17, 2011. I am appearing at the 30th BCS written examination and my Examination Centre is at Chittagong. I have an examination on January 17, 2011, coincided with the same time slot of the interview and so it is not possible for me to come from Chittagong and attend the interview at 10:00 am.

I will be highly obliged if you kindly permit me to attend the interview at the 6:00 pm to 8:30 pm time slot scheduled for Evening Board 3 and Evening Board 4 on January 17, 2011.

Yours faithfully

Sushanta Paul

I had never been on a plane before. I thought that wherever you go, you need a passport to fly. My elder brother called a friend who works with passport services and asked what documents are needed for an emergency passport to Dhaka. He burst out laughing! He said, “Buddy, what do you need a passport for? A plane and a bus are the same thing. One flies in the sky, the other runs on the road. That’s all there is to it! Just go buy a ticket. That’s it! Which one is good? You can go with GMG. That’s pretty good.” I didn’t know that you don’t have to rush to the airport to buy a plane ticket. I had no idea how much tickets cost. Getting off the bus in the morning, I went straight to a Dutch-Bangla Bank booth and withdrew ten thousand taka. Then I jumped into a CNG and rushed to the airport. I bought a ticket from the GMG Airlines counter for the 3:20 flight on Monday, the 17th. That was the first Chittagong-Dhaka flight of the afternoon. I booked a return ticket for the same day on the 7:45 evening flight. I felt like I could see it right before my eyes—me attending classes at IBA! Such a strange vision! I returned home with a victorious smile, almost as if I had already gotten into IBA! At night, I tried to prepare from various guides and the internet about what they might ask in the IBA interview. I studied for about 4-5 hours. At the same time, I posted a status on Facebook: How much time does it take to reach Dhaka University from Dhaka International Airport? Is it possible to reach in 40 minutes? Friends, any suggestion, please? I was truly a very simple person back then. I saw the world in very simple terms. Since I hadn’t visited Dhaka much, I didn’t know that in 2011 it wasn’t possible to get from the airport to Shahbag in 40 minutes. Everyone was saying it would take a minimum of two hours to get from the airport to the university campus in the afternoon. All sorts of bizarre comments came in reply to my status. Many started making fun of me. I’ll share some of my friends’ suggestions: “It’s possible if you run.” “It would be great if you jogged to the university. You’d get your evening exercise too!” “You shouldn’t have bought that plane ticket! With that money, if you had thrown us a party, we all would have prayed together and your BCS would have worked out! Hahahaha…..” “Young man! You’re young, just run as soon as you get off the plane! You’ll see, you’ll reach before time!” “Listen, such-and-such bus runs on such-and-such route. Hanging and sleeping, you’ll reach IBA just fine!” I got many such absurd comments. I knew absolutely nothing about Dhaka then. When you’re in trouble, doesn’t everyone have to give you a kick? It began to feel like that’s just how life is! People can’t extend a hand to pull you up, but they can certainly extend a foot to kick you down! Without getting the least bit discouraged by anyone’s words, I kept waiting to see if someone would give some good advice. I didn’t react to anyone’s reply that day. How helplessly calm a person becomes when in trouble. All I knew was this: “I’m giving my IBA interview on the 17th.” One person wrote, “You can go by bike. There’s no faster way to reach the university campus.” Some people even supported that idea. A few mentioned taxi cabs. Support was strongest for the bike option. Up until then, I had ridden a bike maybe 2-3 times in my entire life, counting generously. I didn’t really know anyone in Dhaka who had a bike, or if I did know someone, my mind wasn’t working at all then. Sometimes I think now, alas!

I couldn’t even afford to manage a bike at that time. I wrote, “My flight is scheduled to land at Dhaka Airport at 4.10 pm on 17 January. I must reach Dhaka University at or before 5.15 pm. I’ve an interview at IBA at that time. . . . Can’t I do it? Is it not possible? I need to do it at any cost. As I don’t know about the routes of Dhaka City, I’m asking for your help. Dhaka City is an unknown city to me. Can a taxi cab help me reach there in 1 hour? I can’t be late, otherwise I’ll miss the interview schedule. I’ve managed that schedule today through an application. . . Can a bike be a better solution? Or, something else? I’m in great trouble. . . .” After posting this, the mocking and laughter began all over again. I replied to the distinguished gentleman (one of Bangladesh’s most successful businessmen) who had advised me to jog there: “Thank you Sir for you ‘jogging’ suggestion. I was also seriously thinking of this option. Yes, I’ll surely manage to reach in time by vehicles, on foot, again by vehicles, again on foot . . . . And, I’ll go. I’ll be there in time by any means.” Someone said, “Change the schedule once more.” I wrote, “The schedule can’t be changed! Hopefully, there will happen some miracle and I’ll manage to avail the schedule in time.” A younger brother wrote, “Brother, you should go by taxi-cab. But you could try the bus once. Dhaka buses run quite well!” I replied, “Brother, I’m not surely making any attempt of getting on a bus! That’ll be horrible, you know. I was just seeking for a suggestion as I don’t know about the route. Thanks for the suggestion. I think a CNG powered taxi can help me in this regard. A taxi-cab is prone to getting stuck up in the congestion forever. A bike could be a better solution. But, I can’t manage it.”

Mrs. Zohra, whose name was Ira—an extremely distinguished lady—commented, “You need a bike?” “That would be wonderful.” “Alright, let me see what I can do.” She was the Deputy Managing Director of ONE Bank. After completing her studies in Chemistry from Chittagong University, she had done her MBA from IBA. She worked in the corporate sector, but there were very few people who didn’t know her. I have a sister. Her name is Sharmin Muiz Khan. At that time, she was one of those rare souls who loved someone as insignificant as me far more than necessary, showered me with affection for no particular reason. She was almost my mother’s age, but I addressed her as ‘tumi’ and she called me ‘tui’. She had studied English Literature at Dhaka University. She particularly loved my writing. She was a business magnate and had connections with many prominent people. I have rarely seen a lady as distinguished, refined, elegant, and utterly graceful as her. She commented, “Bappi, someone needs to grab you and give you a good thrashing. Are you enjoying confusing everyone by calling them all the time? Please stop wasting your time browsing Facebook and concentrate on tomorrow’s exam. Otherwise, you’re calling for another disaster. There is a saying: ‘Que sera, sera’ meaning: Whatever will be, will be. So, pray and try your best. I have given this opinion after a lot of serious thoughts. Please follow it. You will leave here right now. I don’t want to see you making even one more comment! MIRACLES HAPPEN IF YOU BELIEVE IN YOURSELF!” I replied, “Didi, things are that they’re. Things will be that they will be. And, between this two there lie some miracles that we’re never aware of. And, miracles are often stranger than facts. Facts are because they’re. Miracles are because we or someone else wants them to be. That’s the truth!” She called Mrs. Zohra. She said, “Look Ira, my brother has gotten into a bit of trouble. The poor thing is a simple soul, we should do something for him. Can’t you arrange a bike for him?” A little while later, I saw a message from Mrs. Zohra in my inbox: “Please give me your contact number. Regards” I gave it immediately. The call came within seconds. After introducing herself, she said, “You need a bike Monday at 4 PM, right?” “That would be wonderful.” “OK, a bike will be there for you at 4. My colleague Romel will pick you. Alright?” “I am truly, truly grateful. Thank you so very much!” “Let’s get the work done first, then you can thank me. I’m texting you Romel’s number. Take care.” She hung up immediately. I wrote to her: “Life is stranger than fiction, I repeat. From myself, I’ve got much less than I truly deserve. From others, I’ve got much more than I truly deserve. Is it the thing that they call miracle? I don’t know and never try to know. I let miracles happen and thankfully they always happen . . . . . . . Thank you for your generous approach. This really means a lot to me.” I wrote my piece. I don’t know if she ever read it or had the time to read it. Noble souls don’t wait for thanks. Besides, she was truly, truly busy.

He was the head of the credit section at One Bank. He had no reason to know a nobody like me, yet he knew me through my writing. Otherwise, I would never have had the privilege of speaking with him directly. And the fact that Sharmin didi had spoken to him about me—that was a big deal too. The next day was the Bangladesh Affairs Paper 2 exam. I went to sleep without studying any of it. The day after, straight from the exam hall, I went to the Westex showroom at Probortak intersection. My life’s first interview. I was incredibly excited! I had decided I’d go to the interview board wearing everything brand new. I bought a formal white shirt, black pants, black tie, black belt, black socks, white undershirt, and brown shoes. Later, from Gallery Apex I bought formal Oxford shoes, and from Time Zone a Titan wristwatch, then returned home in the evening. Seeing my antics, Ma was laughing. “Ma, why are you laughing?” “Just because, dear.” The funny thing was, Ma went with me to the exam hall every single day. She always kept me close, just like a child. Ma said, “Tomorrow I’m going to the airport with you.” And she did go—despite my protests.

Monday, the 17th. International Affairs exam. I couldn’t stay in the exam hall for the entire time due to nerves. I don’t have a car, what if the CNG takes too long to reach the airport! What if I miss the flight! The flight was at 3:20. And it takes at least 2 hours to reach the airport from Omar Gani MES College by 1 PM. Our written exam had been during winter. In the bitter cold, my fingers would freeze. Still, I kept rubbing my palms together to warm them, blowing hot breath into the hollow of my cupped hands, and wrote with all my strength. Instead of 1 o’clock, I finished the exam at 12:30, submitted my paper, and rushed out. When I emerged from the hall and reached the gate, everyone thought I must have been expelled! The intense stress was clearly written all over my face. Many showed me sympathy, told me not to worry, advised me to do better in the next BCS. I didn’t have time to respond. What could I say anyway—at that moment, life itself was one giant question mark for me! I don’t know what strength possessed my mother. She ran almost twice as fast as me, covering the distance from the college campus to the road. We got into a CNG without bargaining, paying nearly one and a half times the normal fare. I told the driver, “However you manage it, get us to the airport within two hours. If necessary, I’ll pay you extra.” It was 12:50 on the clock. The CNG started speeding. Mother opened the tiffin box and fed me khichuri, meat, and fried egg. One thought kept spinning in my head: “Will I catch the plane? If we get stuck in traffic, it’s all over!” I took off my sweater. I had left home that morning wearing my viva outfit, everything except the tie. After escaping two minor traffic jams, when we reached the airport, it was 5 minutes to 3. As soon as I got down, I touched my mother’s and aunt’s feet in respect (a distant aunt had come with us since mother couldn’t return home from the airport alone) and ran to the counter. There I learned that the flight was delayed by an hour due to dense fog. I thought, if the plane leaves at that time, there’s no way I can reach IBA by 5:15. I informed the counter staff about this. They said there was nothing they could do; they were very sorry. I inquired and learned that no other flights were departing at that time either. At that moment, I felt utterly helpless, just wanting to cry. I felt like I had no one, no one at all! I kept going from counter to counter. I found out there was a Bangladesh Biman flight departing at 3:45. There was no other flight before that. It was a bigger plane, taking 30 minutes to reach, whereas other planes take at least 40 minutes. Meaning, I would reach Dhaka airport by 4:15! I bought the ticket right then. There was great hope in my heart—if this one leaves on time, there’s nothing more to worry about. I went to the airport restroom and quickly put on my tie. I adjusted my shirt once more. Looking in the mirror, I fixed my hair with my hand. The clock hand crossed 4 after passing 3:45. The plane was delayed due to fog. We all boarded the plane at 4:15. It was my first time on a plane. I kept thinking, when will it take off, when will it take off! Every second felt like an hour! The tension was making it hard to breathe, yet the plane wouldn’t take off. I thought, oh! If only I could spend all my strength to make this plane soar into the sky! I pressed my handkerchief over my eyes to hide my tears. Finally, the plane took off. It was 4:37 on the clock. I was thinking, oh!

The plane could have taken off directly without taxiing! At least a couple of minutes would have been saved! The plane landed on Dhaka’s runway at 5:13.

I burst out of the domestic terminal running with all my might, and gasping for breath, I saw a motorcycle come to a stop right in front of me. “You’re Sushanta, right? Get on the back!” I extended my hand to shake hands with the young man in the black helmet. He didn’t raise his black-gloved right fist for a handshake. “Time’s wasting, brother! Please get on! Quick!” I didn’t argue further. “You’re not used to riding bikes, are you?” “Yes. How did you know?” “Brother, I’ve been riding bikes for the past 18-20 years. I can tell.” “I see.” “Lean forward and press your chest firmly against my back! You can even wrap your arms around me, otherwise you’ll get thrown off. For sure! I’m going to ride fast.” The way that bike tore out of the airport—I don’t have the courage to even think about it today. Under normal circumstances, I might have screamed in fear and told him to stop, or I really would have been thrown off. But at that moment I knew that being afraid was important, but far more important was reaching IBA alive. I don’t know if the wheels of that 150cc bike actually touched the ground that day, but for the second time in my life I understood this truth: you cannot frighten someone who stakes their life to touch their dreams. I had only seen bikes racing so recklessly on the roads in movies. The bike was literally cutting through the whooshing sound of wind, as if flying through the air! “Say brother, are you somebody really important?” “What do you mean?” “Well, Madam told me that one of her very important friends had to be delivered from the airport to IBA within half an hour, no matter what. That was her order! Who are you, brother? Hahahaha………” “I’m Madam’s Facebook friend.” “What are you saying, man? How’s that possible! I was thinking even more… you mean you’ve never even met her?” “No, brother. Why?” (There’s a railway crossing ahead. The barrier is coming down.) “Brother, duck your head a little.” Saying this, he quickly rode the bike under the barrier without obeying the signal. Many people behind us were shouting for us to stop. “Brother, just don’t be afraid. Nothing will happen. You can close your eyes if you want.” Right at that moment, while quickly emerging from between two trucks standing side by side, he said, “Sit a bit smaller, brother!” A little further ahead—massive traffic jam at a signal! Romel bhai lifted the bike onto the sidewalk. “Brother, please give way a little, give way a little,” he kept saying as he raced forward. He had to do this several times. Sometimes when riding on the central divider in the middle of the road, traffic police would catch us, and he’d say in a tearful voice, “Sir, my aunt is fighting for her life in the medical college. I’m going to donate blood. O-negative blood—we can’t find any. If I don’t reach on time, we won’t be able to save my aunt, sir!” He’d manage the police with this story and then race off at the same speed again! Whenever there was a traffic jam on the road, he’d immediately change to another road. That day I learned that when obstacles appear on the road, it doesn’t mean there is no road. Rather, it means you have to take a different road! Right now!! I had only seen such daredevil biking in Hollywood action movies. Looking at my hair in the bike’s mirror, it seemed as if it had stood up straight after an electric shock! My face was covered with dust from the city. In the fierce wind, my tie was flying behind me in the air. I don’t know if anyone has ever seen a bike race so recklessly through Dhaka’s roads during rush hour. But for some reason, I truly wasn’t afraid at all. I kept thinking over and over, “How quickly can one reach IBA!” Romel bhai had finished his honors and master’s from Dhaka College before joining the bank. I had asked him, “What’s your designation at the bank?” He had joked, “Not much, just 14 more promotions and I’ll be able to sit in Zohra Madam’s chair. Hahaha…….”

When I arrived in front of IBA, my watch showed 5:52. As I got down, I saw my younger brother Pappu and his friend Arefin standing there. At that time, I had my gift shop ‘Dobhana.’ Pappu and Arefin were my working partners. They often came to Dhaka from Chawk Bazaar in Old Dhaka to buy wholesale goods for the shop. I had withdrawn myself from the shop to focus on my BCS exam preparation. They ran everything. They were already in Dhaka on shop business. I had told them to go to the IBA MBA program office and keep me updated by phone about the viva board situation. Through repeated conversations with them, I was checking whether the interview board was still there, asking them to go to the program office and explain that I couldn’t arrive on time due to flight delays, terrible traffic jams, and so on. As soon as I got down, they informed me, “Bhaiya, the board left 4-5 minutes ago. Now only the Executive MBA viva remains.” After introducing them to Romel bhai, I rushed up to the MBA program office on the second floor. As soon as they saw me, everyone there stopped their work and looked at me. I saw Rahi Sir busy with something; he didn’t respond to my greeting. “Sir, I’m very late. Despite trying hard, I couldn’t arrive on time. I…” Without giving me a chance to say anything more, he shouted, “You Idiot! Get out!” “Sir, I…” “I said, Get out! Out! Out!! I knew very well that you wouldn’t be able to come on time. Is it possible to take one exam in Chittagong and then come to Dhaka for another exam? That easy? You’ve just wasted my time! I had told everyone that a boy from Chittagong would come at 5:15, and we needed to take his viva. Did you think I am a joker?” “Sir, I came here with great difficulty. The flight was delayed, there was heavy traffic on the road. I really…” “It’s none of my business! Get out! Go back where you came from.” “Sir, I had many dreams of studying at IBA.” “Everyone on the street has such dreams. I gave you a chance but you missed it. That’s all! Get out of here.” “Sir, please have some mercy…” (I felt like falling at his feet and crying…) Right beside him sat a gentle-looking gentleman much younger than the sir. He said, “Sir, I’ve heard about him. His younger brother kept coming to our program office. They had been standing in front of the office for hours. His flight was indeed delayed. And there’s heavy traffic in Dhaka today too. A friend of mine came to my room from the airport a while ago; it took him a long time to get here too. Give him a chance, Sir. He’s come so far, taking such risks with great difficulty! He apparently has another written exam tomorrow too. The poor fellow has to return to Chittagong today itself.” “Son, you junior faculty members don’t even know what you’re saying, what kind of requests you make. Why are you pleading for him? Is he your relative or something?” “No no Sir, I’m seeing him for the first time today. Just look at his face once, Sir. He’s really come here with great difficulty. Please do him a favor, Sir.” “You have no idea what you are talking about! Will the Executive MBA viva be the same as theirs? They have 3 years of job experience, while these are just children in comparison!

“This won’t be possible, brother. I am sorry!” “Sir, please help the poor fellow a bit. He’s come such a long way with so much hope!” “Son, we can’t manage anything more for you!” I stood a little distance away, head bowed. Looking at me, he called out loudly, “Hey, stupid! Why are you standing there like a donkey? Go on, go to the third floor! Go and stand there absolutely quietly. We’ll call you.” I truly couldn’t understand whether such a beautiful moment had ever come anywhere in this world before! Tears began streaming down my face. I prayed again and again from my heart for Babu sir. Rahi sir seemed like a father figure to me. I kept remembering mother’s words: “Never get angry at teachers’ scolding. When teachers scold, it means blessings.” Overwhelmed with emotion, as I was about to leave after thanking and saluting the teachers, Rahi sir called from behind, “Hey crazy boy! Comb your hair before entering the board! Wash your face at the basin! Don’t be so scared! Hahaha…” I couldn’t say anything more. I kept staring blankly at sir’s face. My cheeks were wet with tears from both eyes. Babu sir placed his hand on my shoulder and said, “Go on, go upstairs and wait. We are not that much bad people as you thought us to be. Sometimes even the IBA faculties are too good! Freshen up, give your interview properly, now there’s no tension anymore. What’s your exam tomorrow?” “Sir, Mathematical Reasoning and Mental Ability.” “How will you go?” “Sir, I have a return plane ticket.” “Good! Brother, splash some water on your eyes and face to fix your appearance. Give your viva quickly and rush to the airport! Good luck!” At that moment I felt like touching sir’s feet in salute. People get frightened by sudden intense love. For the first time, it suddenly struck me: “What if I can’t honor this love of my teachers? What if I don’t get a chance at IBA in the end?”

When we find ourselves in trouble, if our intentions are pure, a way out always emerges! I went to the washroom on the third floor and tried my best to “make myself presentable” by wetting my hair and smoothing it down. After splashing water on my face, I went and waited in front of the notice board. I was called after 10 minutes. It was nearly seven o’clock. When I entered the room, I saw many faculty members seated there. I hadn’t known that so many would be present for an interview. I thought this was perhaps how IBA interviews were conducted. I later learned that this entire panel had been assembled just for me. Apart from Babu Sir and Rahi Sir, I didn’t recognize anyone else. After getting admitted, I realized that those present that evening were IBA’s most senior and accomplished faculty members. The board included Saiful Majid Sir, Shama-e-Zahir Sir, Mamun Sir, Munir Khosru Sir, Niaz Sir, and Saif Noman Khan Sir. Most of the junior faculty had finished their interviews and gone home, while some senior faculty were in their offices conducting Executive MBA interviews. Some of them had been specially called in. I was in the interview for about 18-20 minutes. Many of the faculty members knew about my situation that day. I had heard of something called “divine possession” in life. At certain special moments, due to particular external influences or circumstances, people suddenly gain extraordinary power. In those moments, they step outside their normal state and display different behavior. They can harness the utmost potential of their inner infinite strength. In that wondrous balanced fusion of emotion and capability, the best version of themselves emerges. From the moment I entered the interview room, I had very likely become a different person, or perhaps the very best ‘me’ from within had emerged that day. By what divine signal this happened, I don’t know. No hesitation, doubt, nervousness, fear, the day’s exhaustion, or lethargy was affecting me at all. I felt incredibly composed and light as a feather. It felt as though whatever I was saying or doing was the best possible. I was experiencing the finest moment of my life right then and there. I can say with complete honesty that the style in which I spoke English that day—I have never in my entire life, even to this day, been able to speak English so flawlessly and fluently. That day the faculty members engaged in various kinds of humor during the interview. They were having great fun with me. Most likely, the faculty wanted to “shake me up” somehow. I don’t know why, by whose indication I don’t know, but I kept answering all their questions one by one with a very cool head and a smile that day. They interviewed me in English on various diverse topics, starting from describing the entire day’s events and the preceding Facebook incidents to many other subjects. (Of course, at IBA there’s absolutely no opportunity to give interviews in Bengali.) Why I wanted to pursue an MBA, why IBA if I was going to take government job exams anyway, my weaknesses, whether I’d ever been in love, how I spend my leisure time, some conversation about reading books, various economic issues of Bangladesh, some personal and family matters, my future plans, the breathless motorcycle journey from A to Z, the BCS examination system, why I went into engineering despite having no interest, why I delayed my honors degree, why I didn’t study properly, why my CGPA was so low, what I like to eat, what kind of personality I prefer in people, what I know about IBA, some current affairs, and several other questions. I was answering very quickly in correct English. The faculty praised this too. I gave a very simple, straightforward, and candid interview. I didn’t speak a single false word that day.

I didn’t need to think before speaking—whatever came to mind, I simply said, so there was no chance to fabricate lies. At the end, they asked me to sing a song. When I said, “I can’t, Sir,” Babu Sir showed me my info-form and laughed, saying, “But you’ve claimed so.” I had written Reading, Writing, Singing in the hobbies section… At that moment, it felt like I was living the best day of my life. I sang, “Aaj ei dintake…” “I see, we’re getting a singer for our cultural program!” As Saiful Majid Sir was saying this, Babu Sir interjected, “Sir, he has another exam tomorrow. He’ll probably be flying back to Chittagong tonight.” Then three or four teachers exclaimed in unison, “What! He’s going back to Chittagong right now? Well then, run along, run along! Go downstairs and see if your superman biker is there! Hahahaha…” As I was leaving with my salaam, the teachers called out, “Best of luck for your tomorrow’s exam.” I kept thinking, again and again—I’ll make it, I’ll make it! (Even after giving the BCS viva, I didn’t feel this good.)

When I stepped out of IBA, it was half past seven on the clock. I knew there was no way I could catch the 7:45 flight. I also knew that I had no idea how I would get to Chittagong that night. I didn’t even feel like thinking about it. Only the exhilarating rush of having given a good exam was coursing through me. Pappu and Arefin had been waiting for me at Madhu’s canteen. Taking them along, I went to the front of Dhaka University’s Central Library and leisurely began eating vegetable pakoras and tea. Many of my students studied in various departments at Dhaka University. Quite a few came to see me. They were asking what questions had been asked in the interview. After a day of incredible experiences, my head had become almost entirely empty. I couldn’t understand why I wasn’t feeling the slightest urgency to return to Chittagong. Pappu asked, “Brother, will you take the night bus?” I said, “Yes, that could work.” (It amuses me now to think how casually I had said ‘that could work’!) The road conditions weren’t good then either, there were always traffic jams. It didn’t even occur to me—what would happen if I couldn’t reach by 10 AM tomorrow? Ripon, a dear younger brother who lived in Chittagong and was one of my former students, said, “Brother, I have a non-AC train ticket; for Turna Nishitha, leaving tonight. It doesn’t matter if I don’t go to Chittagong today. Brother, you take it.” “Alright, fine,” I said, took the ticket, and set off toward Kamalapur Station. That night the train left nearly an hour and a half late. I didn’t even want to think about what was going to happen! I had already surrendered myself to fate long before. In my mind I kept repeating only this: whatever will be, will be. Whether I want it or not, it will happen. And whatever is happening is surely for the good; whatever will happen will surely be for the good too. Let’s see! After the day’s exhaustion, I had a very peaceful sleep. Suddenly I woke up hearing commotion around me. The train had stopped at Comilla. Apparently there was some problem with the line. We were delayed there for nearly two and a quarter hours. I couldn’t understand why I wasn’t feeling any kind of anxiety! I fell asleep again. Sleep is the world’s only faithful lover. Whenever I want it, I find it near. Never, under any circumstances, does it abandon me. There can be no purer love than the love for sleep.

When the train reached Chittagong railway station the next day, it was a quarter to ten in the morning. My exam was scheduled to start at ten. It takes only fifteen minutes to get from the station to my house. When I got home, I found my mother sitting there with everything ready in her hands—my pencil box, board, scale, pen, calculator, admit card, registration card, all of it. My parents had been terribly anxious at home. I hadn’t been able to speak to them since after half past one at night. My mobile had run out of charge. (I was using a cheap Nokia 1100 mobile set back then. Everyone called it the “national set”! It was so sturdy that many would joke, “Dude, you could crack jackfruit with that phone!” I’d tease my friends who used expensive mobiles, saying, “My phone’s model is ‘N Eleven Zero Zero’!”) As soon as my mother saw me, she said, “Dear, how are you? Will you take today’s exam?” I felt emotionally numb. It seemed as though I was lighter than a feather at that moment, floating around in some kind of trance! I smiled and said, “Ma, I’m perfectly fine. I’ll take the exam.” Saying this, I took the packed shopping bag from my mother’s hands and left the house just as I was. It was 10:05 on the clock. From our house to the exam center, it takes at least thirty minutes by CNG during office hours. When I reached the college gate, it was 10:43. That day was the mathematical reasoning and mental ability test. The first two hours were mathematical reasoning, followed by one hour of mental ability. The exam had already started forty-three minutes earlier. Naturally, the police wouldn’t let me enter. I pleaded extensively, kept trying futilely to explain what had happened, but they weren’t willing to listen to anything. But I had made up my mind—I wasn’t going to turn back, I would get inside no matter what. A small commotion started gathering there. Seeing the crowd, the magistrate came over. After hearing my entire story, he said, “You only have one hour left. Can you finish all the math problems in this time?” Without a moment’s hesitation, I said, “I can, sir!” “Alright, go ahead. Good luck!” My heart overflowed with gratitude toward him. At that moment, he seemed to me not human, but divine! I went in, looked at the questions, took the exam. I even showed three problems to the person sitting next to me. (He got a job in Audit and Accounts in the 30th batch.) I scored 98 on that day’s exam—50 in math, 48 in mental ability. After that… well, as everyone says—the rest is history!

But this much is true: had that day’s exam been something other than mathematics, I would have been in real trouble. I can handle math because the type of problems that appeared in the BCS written exam back then weren’t particularly difficult for me to solve. Such problems don’t strain the mind much, and the 30th BCS written exam featured relatively easy math. Even if I worked through each step carefully and added side notes, it shouldn’t have taken more than half an hour. It didn’t for me either. However, spending two and a half hours on the International Affairs exam the day before had been risky. Actually, no matter how incredible the whole affair might seem, everything appears to have been predetermined by the Creator or nature itself. What remains inexplicable to our limited understanding is simply a natural, ordinary occurrence for the Creator. All our failures and successes are already decided beforehand. But to reach that point, the effort—or making the right decision at the right time—that we must do ourselves. I wasn’t even supposed to pass my undergraduate degree. Yet it was my destiny to complete my undergraduate studies, become a BCS cadre, study at IBA—all of it was written in my fate. Had my destiny been bound elsewhere, I would have gone there instead. I had enrolled in another master’s program under Dhaka University—MDS. After continuing that course for three months, I left it of my own accord. They had said I would need to officially hide the fact that I was simultaneously pursuing another master’s at IBA. I refused to lie. I harbor no regret about this, though. I’ve accepted that pursuing that particular master’s degree simply wasn’t written in my destiny. This is the truth, this is reality. I had gained admission to Dhaka University’s Evening MBA program in Finance, ranking sixth on the merit list, but never had to attend classes there. I received my IBA admission test results before that. I did complete my master’s in Finance from Dhaka University, but the Evening MBA program wasn’t destined for me, so I didn’t pursue my master’s degree from there.

Stepping into two boats in the middle of a river ensures certain death. Logic dictates this. But I placed my feet in two boats, taking the maximum risk—I had no other choice—yet both boats moved forward in parallel at the same speed at the same time, so I didn’t slip between them and lose my life. What explanation could there be for this? Life doesn’t follow logic; life follows the Creator’s signals. Life doesn’t always operate according to explanations. Sometimes life moves on faith. So there’s nothing to say about anyone’s personal philosophy and the life they live according to their beliefs, as long as that life doesn’t interfere with someone else’s way of living. Somewhere, no explicable form of life can be seen, and life is just like this!

Through sheer mental strength alone, I had believed that some miracle would surely occur. It did happen, because in Providence’s master plan, that’s what was meant to happen. Everything in between was the Creator’s games or plans to test my patience and concentration. You will never be given a gift you don’t deserve. You will be tested, and if you fail to pass that test, you will deprive yourself of the Creator’s grace through your own fault. I’m sharing with you the Facebook status I posted after the IBA admission test results came out, along with a couple of my own comments on it:

Friends, I’ve been finally selected for admission into the MBA Program of IBA, Dhaka University. …… feeling happy. ……. HATS OFF to Sharmeen didi, Ira madam & Romel bhai!!

# My dear friends….. Your gorgeous presence on my wall makes me think twice about the POWER of friendship & the MAGIC of love. YES……… They matter!! I just want to be with you forever. Please never say GOODBYE…. It hurts!! Your kindness and care mean a lot to me. You’ve always given me much more than I really deserve. Please accept my sincere GRATITUDE.

Happy Social Networking!!

Long live Facebook!!

My best wishes for our Friendship!!

……… Love you all ……

# (To one of my close friends) Dost, not reaching the Interview Session on 17 January at 5:30 pm was what I thought to be….. reaching there in time was what was written in my DESTINY….. And, I ended up calling it a MIRACLE, something I never believed in before…… Just have a look at the schedule of 17 January……

International Affairs Exam (BCS written exam)…. 10:00 am — 1:00 pm

The departure time of the GMG Airlines: 3:20 pm, there was a delay of about 1 hour due to fog and I availed another delayed flight of Bangladesh Biman at 4:37 pm.

The plane landed on Dhaka Airport at 5:13 pm and then I started my fight against time to meet the deadline by bike with Romel bhai!! Who managed those three saviours (Sharmeen didi, Ira madam & Romel bhai) for me? I don’t know. You better ask the Heaven! I saw such a breath-taking motor-bike driving only in English movies. Before that day, I had never thought I would experience it!!

Life is sometimes stranger than fiction . . . . Who can tell it better than I?

# (To one of my senior high-profile Indian friends) Thank you Sir for your words of felicitation. IBA of Dhaka University is considered as the most prestigious institute for doing MBA in Bangladesh. As per the rules of that Business School, the Major/Field of Specialization is allowed to be chosen at the final semester judging the academic records & intention of a candidate. I don’t have much idea about what to choose and why to choose. Please share some ideas on it as you’ve huge practical knowledge (so far as I know) about the present corporate trend.

You’ve nicely stated the trend of our careerist B-school graduates. No one really cares about their own aptitude, rather, tries to be what market wants them to be. Personally, I always like the decision-making and mainstream operational sections of giant companies. And, probably I’ll go for finance as my major when I’ve to choose it in my final semester. Yes, my semester results must be well enough to work on my advantage. That’ll be a story of one and a half years later. Till then, I’ll have to undergo the generalized curriculum as my B-school formulates. The recent economic recession worries our friends studying at the US universities. And, almost all of them suggest me not to plan of staying there. But at the same time, they suggest me completing my PhD in the US if I want to and grab that opportunity. Let’s wait and see. . . . . Are you in India now? Hope you’re quite OK along with your busy schedule. Please, sometimes give me your valuable suggestions when you’ve time and you’re here on Facebook. . . . . Thank you once again for your helpful advice. Take care.

In explaining the final part of the status shared above, I had written these words:

Let me share the Story behind the Story and elucidate the last part of my status. It would have been quite impossible for me to reach Dhaka University from Dhaka International Airport within just 50 minutes (!!) to attend the interview session of IBA in time on Jan 17, but for the cordial help of Sharmeen didi (Sharmeen Muiz) & Ira madam (Johora Bebe Ira). They’re the persons who made that miracle happen!! And, Romel bhai (Monirul Alam Romel) is the “Man with the Bike” who dared fight against time to meet the deadline!! ……. I feel honoured to express my heartfelt gratitude to these three saviours. …….. Miracles Happen When You Believe!!

I conclude this piece with a beautifully strange comment Sharmeen didi made on that status: “My prayers, good wishes, and prayers remain with you. Dear brother of mine, may you grow to great heights. And may the successful reflection of our efforts (Ira’s and mine) shine through in everything you do. I was there, I am here, I will be there. …….. Heaps of hugs and love.”

What sustains a human being? We live on love, on prayers, on good wishes. These are what keep me alive—quite well alive, in fact. My gratitude!

P.S. Let me offer you some practical wisdom. Those who think they know too much, who consider themselves supremely intelligent, who speak in grand terms without any real qualifications or notable position, who try to diminish others even through outright lies, who pontificate without knowledge, who speak to you in such a manner that you begin to doubt your own confidence—I would advise you to absolutely, absolutely, and absolutely avoid such people. They themselves cannot go very far in life, nor will they allow you to go very far either.

(Written 2-3 years ago)

I have been meaning to write this piece for at least the past four years. Due to my characteristic laziness, it remained buried among my lost writings all this time. Unable to let it slip away entirely, I have resolved today to begin writing with the firm determination that, no matter how difficult it becomes, I will not leave this chair until it is finished. The trouble with not writing when one should is that the emotion and enthusiasm of that moment are lost, and often the writing fails to come alive. However, there are many exceptions to this. Sanjibchandra Chattopadhyay, the elder brother of Bankimchandra Chattopadhyay, worked for quite some time as a Deputy Magistrate in the exquisitely beautiful, remote forest region of Palamau. Many years later, he wrote ‘Palamau,’ a work born of memory and reflection. For those who have not yet read ‘Palamau,’ I will say just one thing to convey what kind of writing it is: when Bishwa Sahitya Kendra began its publishing work, everyone at the center was perplexed about which among so many masterpieces of world literature should be printed first. It was then that Abdullah Abu Sayeed decided that the first book published by Bishwa Sahitya Kendra would be ‘Palamau.’ But let me return to what I was saying. To discuss why writing intended to be written often never materializes would be to commit great injustice to oneself and others. So I shall not venture into that discussion. However, regarding this particular piece, I will only say this much: when attempting to describe one of life’s most incredible events, my hands tremble with excitement, memories blur, and a fear pervades my entire being—what would today have been like if everything that day had unfolded differently? I keep thinking that today would not have been anything like today. Today I would have been someone else entirely. Everything around me would have seemed like something else altogether. The truth is, life does not unfold the way we imagine it will. Life unfolds as life does. The color of life appears one way in imagination, but the actual color is different. Even if we think we will spend our lives playing with life itself, it does not necessarily follow that life will pass in precisely that manner. What will happen and what will not—all of this is predetermined. Our task is simply to perform brilliantly on this stage in our own way. The more skillful one’s performance, the more intimately one tastes the flavor of life.

The 30th BCS written examination began on January 11, 2011, and concluded on January 23. On the evening of Wednesday the 12th, I checked the IBA website at Dhaka University and discovered that I was among those who had passed the written portion of the MBA program admission test for the 45th batch. The candidates who passed the written exam would be divided into several groups for interviews, and my group was scheduled for Monday, January 17, at 10 AM at IBA. I had taken the BCS examination from Chittagong, where the PSC-designated examination center for Chittagong candidates was Omar Gani MES College. On the day of my IBA interview, the International Affairs exam was also scheduled to begin at 10 AM. Attending an exam at Dhaka University at the same time was simply impossible. I knew that IBA didn’t offer many second chances. Having secured this opportunity, I couldn’t imagine myself foolish or generous enough to let it slip away. Instead of studying for the next day’s Bangladesh Affairs Paper I, I began calling everyone I knew who had studied at IBA or was familiar with it. I still remember the intense excitement of that time. When something you desperately want comes within reach, yet circumstances force you to let it go—staying calm in such a moment is nearly impossible. Everyone I spoke with on the phone said the same thing: “You can’t have two good things at once. You’ll have to give up one of them. If you try to keep a foot in both boats, you’ll end up with neither. Besides, you can take the BCS exam again, and you can also take the IBA admission test again. Let go of one.” Those who valued the corporate sector highly told me to abandon BCS. Those who valued the civil service told me to pursue IBA later. No one could suggest a way to manage both. At that moment, neither option seemed bigger or smaller to me—my mind had gone completely blank, and I felt as though life was playing a game of Snakes and Ladders with me. The dice might roll such a number that I’d end up in the belly of a snake—but then again, it might not. Sometimes the number that comes up sends you climbing a ladder high above. Life’s Snakes and Ladders board doesn’t contain only snakes—there are ladders too! Who’s to say this throw won’t land on a ladder? Life is indeed like Snakes and Ladders, where the highest number isn’t necessarily the best. Perhaps I’d roll two sixes and then a five—totaling seventeen, the highest possible—yet still end up sliding down a long snake. But equally possible: rolling the smallest number, just one, and finding myself climbing rapidly up a ladder to great heights. Understanding the game of less is the most difficult thing of all! The highest number isn’t always the best. You must see how much is actually needed. Great income, great torment—what need is there for such a large sum? Knowing how to choose the right number for your life is a great art indeed!

I thought, why should I surrender before I’ve even lost? I’ll see this through to the end. At home, my parents were also saying, “Give up one of them.” My heart was telling me, “I won’t give up, not for anything!” Let me gamble with life this once and see what happens! You have to listen to your heart. I called the MBA Program Office. Zakir bhai was in charge there. He said, “IBA’s schedule doesn’t change for anyone. You change your schedule.” I said, “That’s not possible. You have several slots. BCS has only one.” Even after that he said, “It’s not possible in any way. We’re sorry!” Saying this, he hung up the phone, and my stubbornness only grew stronger. I put aside studying for the next day’s exam. After some inquiries, I learned that Rahi Sir was the Program Chairman for IBA’s MBA at the time. Only he could change my interview slot if he wanted to. Rahi Sir is an incredibly fierce person. IBA’s Marketing Department is the best in Bangladesh. Rahi Sir is the best faculty in that department. I got his number. The person I got the number from asked, “Are you really going to call Rahi Sir?” “Yes. Why?” “We students never dare to call Sir. And you’re going to call him for this?” “I will. I have to. My back is against the wall.” “God bless you, man! You better think twice.” I said, “Sometimes life doesn’t give you the opportunity to think twice. It’s the first and the only chance! I must grab it before it’s too late! I will call him. I’ll make my attempt—if it works, it works; if not, so be it. If I don’t try, it definitely won’t work. Thank you, bhai!” Right after finishing that conversation, without any second thoughts, I called Rahi Sir. A man with an extremely serious voice. It’s frightening just to speak with him. But I have nothing left to lose. I only know this: I passed IBA’s written exam and IBA has to conduct my interview. I had truly become reckless. I blurted out my entire problem in one breath. Rahi Sir said, “You silly kid! You’ve dared to call Rahi Sir for this! Did you think I am your friend? It’s not my business whether you can attend the viva board or not. You have only 2 choices: Leave IBA, or, Leave BCS.” To my infinite amazement, I heard myself saying, “Sir, I have called you to hear about the third choice. If you don’t have that, please make it for me. I know I’ll be at IBA.” Sir said very loudly over the phone, “You are a stupid little boy. You just know nothing about the things here! Don’t waste my time. I am busy!” “Sir, please give me a chance. I am………” I couldn’t make him hear any more—he hung up before that. I couldn’t understand what had happened, only felt an even stronger desire to believe that I would definitely study at IBA. BCS seemed to fade for a moment. Whatever happens in tomorrow’s exam will happen. Right now I need to sort out the IBA situation first. I called the program office again.

I asked, “When can I actually meet Rahi sir?” “What do you mean?” “Sir told me to come see him.” “Ask sir himself when you can actually meet him.” (I mustered the courage to lie….) “Sir said to call the program office and find out.” “He told you to ask us? Really! Alright, stay on the line, let me check sir’s class schedule.” Zakir bhai informed me that if I came next Friday evening, I could meet sir. Saying “thank you very much,” I hung up the phone and immediately left home to buy a bus ticket. From near Gariullah Shah’s shrine in Chittagong, I bought a ticket on Unique’s non-AC bus to Dhaka for Thursday night. The next day, under tremendous mental pressure, I took my Bangladesh Studies Paper 1 exam. Even in the exam hall, my mind kept racing: “Will Rahi sir keep his word?” In my answer sheet, I mistakenly wrote the word “Rahi” several times, though I crossed it out later.

I arrived at IBA before afternoon on Friday. I stood waiting in front of the MBA Program Office. Zakir bhai wasn’t there at the time—he came in the evening, two hours later. I went up and introduced myself. “Oh, I see, you’ve come from Chittagong. Rahi sir mentioned he would speak with you about changing your interview schedule? Really??” “Yes, he told me to come see him!” We were talking when Rahi sir arrived shortly after. He went straight through the program office into his room. A dignified man of serious disposition. His office was right next to the program office. Zakir bhai said, “Please sit on the sofa. Let me ask sir if he’s free right now.” When he told sir, “Someone named Sushanta Pal has come from Chittagong to see you—you had asked him to come,” sir immediately shouted quite loudly, “I didn’t ask anyone to come see me! Tell him to leave. Disgusting!” Zakir bhai told me, “Sir won’t see you. You should go.” “I’ll leave, but only after meeting with sir. Brother, I haven’t come here to turn back. I must see him.” Almost forcefully, I entered sir’s room without permission. After I said very politely, “Assalamu alaikum, sir,” he returned the greeting and said, “What do you want?” There were several other students in the room who had come to sir for various matters. “Sir, I called you the day before yesterday evening.” “Is it my duty to remember your call? Get out!” I said nothing and stood there with my head bowed. The words “Get out!” didn’t register in my mind. At that moment, I only knew that I would speak with Rahi sir about changing the schedule, and sir would surely agree to do so. After standing like this for nearly half an hour, sir said, “Why are you standing here like a statue?” I fearfully placed an application about changing the time slot on sir’s desk and began to say, “Sir, the day before yesterday I spoke with you on the phone…” “Speak in the language I am using now.” “Sir, my interview has been scheduled for next Monday at 10 in the morning. I am appearing for the 30th BCS written exam. I have an exam at the same time. So, I request you to shift my schedule to another convenient time slot.” “Sorry, we cannot.” “Please Sir! Otherwise, my dream to be here will be shattered.” “Let it be. Just go for BCS. You will do better being a civil servant.” “But Sir, it’s uncertain.” “Is being here certain for you?” “No Sir, that’s why I cannot leave any of these 2 opportunities. Please Sir, give me a chance. Do me a favour. I will be ever grateful, Sir.” “What time is your exam?” “10 o’clock, sir.” “How long?” “Three hours, sir.” “Okay fine, come straight here after your exam. Can you make it by 1:30?” I realized sir had forgotten that I’d come from Chittagong. “Sir, I’m taking the exam from Chittagong.” “Stupid! We cannot change our schedule for you! Are you Mr President?” “No Sir, I just want to be your student! I will do anything you tell me to do. Please give me a chance, Sir!” “Look, brother, you won’t be able to finish your exam at 1 o’clock and come from Chittagong to take the interview anyway.

You won’t make it even if you leave at 10 PM. The roads are in terrible condition, there’s heavy traffic.” “Sir, I can come in the evening.” “How? By plane?” “Yes, sir. Please give me a chance, sir.” “Alright. Don’t you have an exam the next day?” “I do, sir. I can manage. I’ll buy a return ticket.” “What time can you arrive?” “Whatever you say, sir.” “Your exam will end at 1 PM. Hmm… okay, can you make it to the 3 o’clock board?” “Yes sir, I can be there at 3.” “Do you know if there are flights at that time?” “I don’t know, sir. I’ll find out.” “I think there’s a flight around 3.” “What time can you arrive?” “4 o’clock, sir?” “Foolish boy! Your brain isn’t working. How can you take a 3 o’clock flight from Chittagong and get from the airport to IBA by 4? You have no idea about Dhaka city. Okay, you come by 5:15 sharp. You will be last person in that board. If you come after that, nothing can be done. The evening board is for Executive MBA. It won’t be possible to hold your viva there. Okay?” “Thank you, sir.” “Youngman, you have decided to play with your life! Best of luck!” “Please pray for me, sir. I can do this!” Tears came to my eyes. I realized that though this man appeared stern on the outside, he was very gentle within. I offered many prayers for the sir and left IBA. I went to Aziz and bought some books. Then I went to Fakirapul and took the 10 PM non-AC bus from Unique, reaching Chittagong in the morning.

I’m sharing the application with you:

15 January 2011

The Program Director, MBA Program

Institute of Business Administration

University of Dhaka

Dhaka

Subject: Prayer for changing the time slot of the interview schedule of the MBA Program Admission

Sir,

This letter expresses my earnest request to change my interview schedule of the MBA Program Admission 2010-2011. I am a candidate for Full-Time Course, my admit number is 2745 and I am on Interview Board 6 scheduled to be conducted at the 10:00 am to 1:00 pm time slot on January 17, 2011. I am appearing at the 30th BCS written examination and my Examination Centre is at Chittagong. I have an examination on January 17, 2011, coincided with the same time slot of the interview and so it is not possible for me to come from Chittagong and attend the interview at 10:00 am.

I will be highly obliged if you kindly permit me to attend the interview at the 6:00 pm to 8:30 pm time slot scheduled for Evening Board 3 and Evening Board 4 on January 17, 2011.

Yours faithfully

Sushanta Paul

I had never been on a plane before. I thought that wherever you go, you need a passport to fly. My elder brother called a friend who works with passport services and asked what documents are needed for an emergency passport to Dhaka. He burst out laughing! He said, “Buddy, what do you need a passport for? A plane and a bus are the same thing. One flies in the sky, the other runs on the road. That’s all there is to it! Just go buy a ticket. That’s it! Which one is good? You can go with GMG. That’s pretty good.” I didn’t know that you don’t have to rush to the airport to buy a plane ticket. I had no idea how much tickets cost. Getting off the bus in the morning, I went straight to a Dutch-Bangla Bank booth and withdrew ten thousand taka. Then I jumped into a CNG and rushed to the airport. I bought a ticket from the GMG Airlines counter for the 3:20 flight on Monday, the 17th. That was the first Chittagong-Dhaka flight of the afternoon. I booked a return ticket for the same day on the 7:45 evening flight. I felt like I could see it right before my eyes—me attending classes at IBA! Such a strange vision! I returned home with a victorious smile, almost as if I had already gotten into IBA! At night, I tried to prepare from various guides and the internet about what they might ask in the IBA interview. I studied for about 4-5 hours. At the same time, I posted a status on Facebook: How much time does it take to reach Dhaka University from Dhaka International Airport? Is it possible to reach in 40 minutes? Friends, any suggestion, please? I was truly a very simple person back then. I saw the world in very simple terms. Since I hadn’t visited Dhaka much, I didn’t know that in 2011 it wasn’t possible to get from the airport to Shahbag in 40 minutes. Everyone was saying it would take a minimum of two hours to get from the airport to the university campus in the afternoon. All sorts of bizarre comments came in reply to my status. Many started making fun of me. I’ll share some of my friends’ suggestions: “It’s possible if you run.” “It would be great if you jogged to the university. You’d get your evening exercise too!” “You shouldn’t have bought that plane ticket! With that money, if you had thrown us a party, we all would have prayed together and your BCS would have worked out! Hahahaha…..” “Young man! You’re young, just run as soon as you get off the plane! You’ll see, you’ll reach before time!” “Listen, such-and-such bus runs on such-and-such route. Hanging and sleeping, you’ll reach IBA just fine!” I got many such absurd comments. I knew absolutely nothing about Dhaka then. When you’re in trouble, doesn’t everyone have to give you a kick? It began to feel like that’s just how life is! People can’t extend a hand to pull you up, but they can certainly extend a foot to kick you down! Without getting the least bit discouraged by anyone’s words, I kept waiting to see if someone would give some good advice. I didn’t react to anyone’s reply that day. How helplessly calm a person becomes when in trouble. All I knew was this: “I’m giving my IBA interview on the 17th.” One person wrote, “You can go by bike. There’s no faster way to reach the university campus.” Some people even supported that idea. A few mentioned taxi cabs. Support was strongest for the bike option. Up until then, I had ridden a bike maybe 2-3 times in my entire life, counting generously. I didn’t really know anyone in Dhaka who had a bike, or if I did know someone, my mind wasn’t working at all then. Sometimes I think now, alas!

I couldn’t even afford to manage a bike at that time. I wrote, “My flight is scheduled to land at Dhaka Airport at 4.10 pm on 17 January. I must reach Dhaka University at or before 5.15 pm. I’ve an interview at IBA at that time. . . . Can’t I do it? Is it not possible? I need to do it at any cost. As I don’t know about the routes of Dhaka City, I’m asking for your help. Dhaka City is an unknown city to me. Can a taxi cab help me reach there in 1 hour? I can’t be late, otherwise I’ll miss the interview schedule. I’ve managed that schedule today through an application. . . Can a bike be a better solution? Or, something else? I’m in great trouble. . . .” After posting this, the mocking and laughter began all over again. I replied to the distinguished gentleman (one of Bangladesh’s most successful businessmen) who had advised me to jog there: “Thank you Sir for you ‘jogging’ suggestion. I was also seriously thinking of this option. Yes, I’ll surely manage to reach in time by vehicles, on foot, again by vehicles, again on foot . . . . And, I’ll go. I’ll be there in time by any means.” Someone said, “Change the schedule once more.” I wrote, “The schedule can’t be changed! Hopefully, there will happen some miracle and I’ll manage to avail the schedule in time.” A younger brother wrote, “Brother, you should go by taxi-cab. But you could try the bus once. Dhaka buses run quite well!” I replied, “Brother, I’m not surely making any attempt of getting on a bus! That’ll be horrible, you know. I was just seeking for a suggestion as I don’t know about the route. Thanks for the suggestion. I think a CNG powered taxi can help me in this regard. A taxi-cab is prone to getting stuck up in the congestion forever. A bike could be a better solution. But, I can’t manage it.”

Mrs. Zohra, whose name was Ira—an extremely distinguished lady—commented, “You need a bike?” “That would be wonderful.” “Alright, let me see what I can do.” She was the Deputy Managing Director of ONE Bank. After completing her studies in Chemistry from Chittagong University, she had done her MBA from IBA. She worked in the corporate sector, but there were very few people who didn’t know her. I have a sister. Her name is Sharmin Muiz Khan. At that time, she was one of those rare souls who loved someone as insignificant as me far more than necessary, showered me with affection for no particular reason. She was almost my mother’s age, but I addressed her as ‘tumi’ and she called me ‘tui’. She had studied English Literature at Dhaka University. She particularly loved my writing. She was a business magnate and had connections with many prominent people. I have rarely seen a lady as distinguished, refined, elegant, and utterly graceful as her. She commented, “Bappi, someone needs to grab you and give you a good thrashing. Are you enjoying confusing everyone by calling them all the time? Please stop wasting your time browsing Facebook and concentrate on tomorrow’s exam. Otherwise, you’re calling for another disaster. There is a saying: ‘Que sera, sera’ meaning: Whatever will be, will be. So, pray and try your best. I have given this opinion after a lot of serious thoughts. Please follow it. You will leave here right now. I don’t want to see you making even one more comment! MIRACLES HAPPEN IF YOU BELIEVE IN YOURSELF!” I replied, “Didi, things are that they’re. Things will be that they will be. And, between this two there lie some miracles that we’re never aware of. And, miracles are often stranger than facts. Facts are because they’re. Miracles are because we or someone else wants them to be. That’s the truth!” She called Mrs. Zohra. She said, “Look Ira, my brother has gotten into a bit of trouble. The poor thing is a simple soul, we should do something for him. Can’t you arrange a bike for him?” A little while later, I saw a message from Mrs. Zohra in my inbox: “Please give me your contact number. Regards” I gave it immediately. The call came within seconds. After introducing herself, she said, “You need a bike Monday at 4 PM, right?” “That would be wonderful.” “OK, a bike will be there for you at 4. My colleague Romel will pick you. Alright?” “I am truly, truly grateful. Thank you so very much!” “Let’s get the work done first, then you can thank me. I’m texting you Romel’s number. Take care.” She hung up immediately. I wrote to her: “Life is stranger than fiction, I repeat. From myself, I’ve got much less than I truly deserve. From others, I’ve got much more than I truly deserve. Is it the thing that they call miracle? I don’t know and never try to know. I let miracles happen and thankfully they always happen . . . . . . . Thank you for your generous approach. This really means a lot to me.” I wrote my piece. I don’t know if she ever read it or had the time to read it. Noble souls don’t wait for thanks. Besides, she was truly, truly busy.

He was the head of the credit section at One Bank. He had no reason to know a nobody like me, yet he knew me through my writing. Otherwise, I would never have had the privilege of speaking with him directly. And the fact that Sharmin didi had spoken to him about me—that was a big deal too. The next day was the Bangladesh Affairs Paper 2 exam. I went to sleep without studying any of it. The day after, straight from the exam hall, I went to the Westex showroom at Probortak intersection. My life’s first interview. I was incredibly excited! I had decided I’d go to the interview board wearing everything brand new. I bought a formal white shirt, black pants, black tie, black belt, black socks, white undershirt, and brown shoes. Later, from Gallery Apex I bought formal Oxford shoes, and from Time Zone a Titan wristwatch, then returned home in the evening. Seeing my antics, Ma was laughing. “Ma, why are you laughing?” “Just because, dear.” The funny thing was, Ma went with me to the exam hall every single day. She always kept me close, just like a child. Ma said, “Tomorrow I’m going to the airport with you.” And she did go—despite my protests.

Monday, the 17th. International Affairs exam. I couldn’t stay in the exam hall for the entire time due to nerves. I don’t have a car, what if the CNG takes too long to reach the airport! What if I miss the flight! The flight was at 3:20. And it takes at least 2 hours to reach the airport from Omar Gani MES College by 1 PM. Our written exam had been during winter. In the bitter cold, my fingers would freeze. Still, I kept rubbing my palms together to warm them, blowing hot breath into the hollow of my cupped hands, and wrote with all my strength. Instead of 1 o’clock, I finished the exam at 12:30, submitted my paper, and rushed out. When I emerged from the hall and reached the gate, everyone thought I must have been expelled! The intense stress was clearly written all over my face. Many showed me sympathy, told me not to worry, advised me to do better in the next BCS. I didn’t have time to respond. What could I say anyway—at that moment, life itself was one giant question mark for me! I don’t know what strength possessed my mother. She ran almost twice as fast as me, covering the distance from the college campus to the road. We got into a CNG without bargaining, paying nearly one and a half times the normal fare. I told the driver, “However you manage it, get us to the airport within two hours. If necessary, I’ll pay you extra.” It was 12:50 on the clock. The CNG started speeding. Mother opened the tiffin box and fed me khichuri, meat, and fried egg. One thought kept spinning in my head: “Will I catch the plane? If we get stuck in traffic, it’s all over!” I took off my sweater. I had left home that morning wearing my viva outfit, everything except the tie. After escaping two minor traffic jams, when we reached the airport, it was 5 minutes to 3. As soon as I got down, I touched my mother’s and aunt’s feet in respect (a distant aunt had come with us since mother couldn’t return home from the airport alone) and ran to the counter. There I learned that the flight was delayed by an hour due to dense fog. I thought, if the plane leaves at that time, there’s no way I can reach IBA by 5:15. I informed the counter staff about this. They said there was nothing they could do; they were very sorry. I inquired and learned that no other flights were departing at that time either. At that moment, I felt utterly helpless, just wanting to cry. I felt like I had no one, no one at all! I kept going from counter to counter. I found out there was a Bangladesh Biman flight departing at 3:45. There was no other flight before that. It was a bigger plane, taking 30 minutes to reach, whereas other planes take at least 40 minutes. Meaning, I would reach Dhaka airport by 4:15! I bought the ticket right then. There was great hope in my heart—if this one leaves on time, there’s nothing more to worry about. I went to the airport restroom and quickly put on my tie. I adjusted my shirt once more. Looking in the mirror, I fixed my hair with my hand. The clock hand crossed 4 after passing 3:45. The plane was delayed due to fog. We all boarded the plane at 4:15. It was my first time on a plane. I kept thinking, when will it take off, when will it take off! Every second felt like an hour! The tension was making it hard to breathe, yet the plane wouldn’t take off. I thought, oh! If only I could spend all my strength to make this plane soar into the sky! I pressed my handkerchief over my eyes to hide my tears. Finally, the plane took off. It was 4:37 on the clock. I was thinking, oh!

The plane could have taken off directly without taxiing! At least a couple of minutes would have been saved! The plane landed on Dhaka’s runway at 5:13.

I burst out of the domestic terminal running with all my might, and gasping for breath, I saw a motorcycle come to a stop right in front of me. “You’re Sushanta, right? Get on the back!” I extended my hand to shake hands with the young man in the black helmet. He didn’t raise his black-gloved right fist for a handshake. “Time’s wasting, brother! Please get on! Quick!” I didn’t argue further. “You’re not used to riding bikes, are you?” “Yes. How did you know?” “Brother, I’ve been riding bikes for the past 18-20 years. I can tell.” “I see.” “Lean forward and press your chest firmly against my back! You can even wrap your arms around me, otherwise you’ll get thrown off. For sure! I’m going to ride fast.” The way that bike tore out of the airport—I don’t have the courage to even think about it today. Under normal circumstances, I might have screamed in fear and told him to stop, or I really would have been thrown off. But at that moment I knew that being afraid was important, but far more important was reaching IBA alive. I don’t know if the wheels of that 150cc bike actually touched the ground that day, but for the second time in my life I understood this truth: you cannot frighten someone who stakes their life to touch their dreams. I had only seen bikes racing so recklessly on the roads in movies. The bike was literally cutting through the whooshing sound of wind, as if flying through the air! “Say brother, are you somebody really important?” “What do you mean?” “Well, Madam told me that one of her very important friends had to be delivered from the airport to IBA within half an hour, no matter what. That was her order! Who are you, brother? Hahahaha………” “I’m Madam’s Facebook friend.” “What are you saying, man? How’s that possible! I was thinking even more… you mean you’ve never even met her?” “No, brother. Why?” (There’s a railway crossing ahead. The barrier is coming down.) “Brother, duck your head a little.” Saying this, he quickly rode the bike under the barrier without obeying the signal. Many people behind us were shouting for us to stop. “Brother, just don’t be afraid. Nothing will happen. You can close your eyes if you want.” Right at that moment, while quickly emerging from between two trucks standing side by side, he said, “Sit a bit smaller, brother!” A little further ahead—massive traffic jam at a signal! Romel bhai lifted the bike onto the sidewalk. “Brother, please give way a little, give way a little,” he kept saying as he raced forward. He had to do this several times. Sometimes when riding on the central divider in the middle of the road, traffic police would catch us, and he’d say in a tearful voice, “Sir, my aunt is fighting for her life in the medical college. I’m going to donate blood. O-negative blood—we can’t find any. If I don’t reach on time, we won’t be able to save my aunt, sir!” He’d manage the police with this story and then race off at the same speed again! Whenever there was a traffic jam on the road, he’d immediately change to another road. That day I learned that when obstacles appear on the road, it doesn’t mean there is no road. Rather, it means you have to take a different road! Right now!! I had only seen such daredevil biking in Hollywood action movies. Looking at my hair in the bike’s mirror, it seemed as if it had stood up straight after an electric shock! My face was covered with dust from the city. In the fierce wind, my tie was flying behind me in the air. I don’t know if anyone has ever seen a bike race so recklessly through Dhaka’s roads during rush hour. But for some reason, I truly wasn’t afraid at all. I kept thinking over and over, “How quickly can one reach IBA!” Romel bhai had finished his honors and master’s from Dhaka College before joining the bank. I had asked him, “What’s your designation at the bank?” He had joked, “Not much, just 14 more promotions and I’ll be able to sit in Zohra Madam’s chair. Hahaha…….”

When I arrived in front of IBA, my watch showed 5:52. As I got down, I saw my younger brother Pappu and his friend Arefin standing there. At that time, I had my gift shop ‘Dobhana.’ Pappu and Arefin were my working partners. They often came to Dhaka from Chawk Bazaar in Old Dhaka to buy wholesale goods for the shop. I had withdrawn myself from the shop to focus on my BCS exam preparation. They ran everything. They were already in Dhaka on shop business. I had told them to go to the IBA MBA program office and keep me updated by phone about the viva board situation. Through repeated conversations with them, I was checking whether the interview board was still there, asking them to go to the program office and explain that I couldn’t arrive on time due to flight delays, terrible traffic jams, and so on. As soon as I got down, they informed me, “Bhaiya, the board left 4-5 minutes ago. Now only the Executive MBA viva remains.” After introducing them to Romel bhai, I rushed up to the MBA program office on the second floor. As soon as they saw me, everyone there stopped their work and looked at me. I saw Rahi Sir busy with something; he didn’t respond to my greeting. “Sir, I’m very late. Despite trying hard, I couldn’t arrive on time. I…” Without giving me a chance to say anything more, he shouted, “You Idiot! Get out!” “Sir, I…” “I said, Get out! Out! Out!! I knew very well that you wouldn’t be able to come on time. Is it possible to take one exam in Chittagong and then come to Dhaka for another exam? That easy? You’ve just wasted my time! I had told everyone that a boy from Chittagong would come at 5:15, and we needed to take his viva. Did you think I am a joker?” “Sir, I came here with great difficulty. The flight was delayed, there was heavy traffic on the road. I really…” “It’s none of my business! Get out! Go back where you came from.” “Sir, I had many dreams of studying at IBA.” “Everyone on the street has such dreams. I gave you a chance but you missed it. That’s all! Get out of here.” “Sir, please have some mercy…” (I felt like falling at his feet and crying…) Right beside him sat a gentle-looking gentleman much younger than the sir. He said, “Sir, I’ve heard about him. His younger brother kept coming to our program office. They had been standing in front of the office for hours. His flight was indeed delayed. And there’s heavy traffic in Dhaka today too. A friend of mine came to my room from the airport a while ago; it took him a long time to get here too. Give him a chance, Sir. He’s come so far, taking such risks with great difficulty! He apparently has another written exam tomorrow too. The poor fellow has to return to Chittagong today itself.” “Son, you junior faculty members don’t even know what you’re saying, what kind of requests you make. Why are you pleading for him? Is he your relative or something?” “No no Sir, I’m seeing him for the first time today. Just look at his face once, Sir. He’s really come here with great difficulty. Please do him a favor, Sir.” “You have no idea what you are talking about! Will the Executive MBA viva be the same as theirs? They have 3 years of job experience, while these are just children in comparison!

“This won’t be possible, brother. I am sorry!” “Sir, please help the poor fellow a bit. He’s come such a long way with so much hope!” “Son, we can’t manage anything more for you!” I stood a little distance away, head bowed. Looking at me, he called out loudly, “Hey, stupid! Why are you standing there like a donkey? Go on, go to the third floor! Go and stand there absolutely quietly. We’ll call you.” I truly couldn’t understand whether such a beautiful moment had ever come anywhere in this world before! Tears began streaming down my face. I prayed again and again from my heart for Babu sir. Rahi sir seemed like a father figure to me. I kept remembering mother’s words: “Never get angry at teachers’ scolding. When teachers scold, it means blessings.” Overwhelmed with emotion, as I was about to leave after thanking and saluting the teachers, Rahi sir called from behind, “Hey crazy boy! Comb your hair before entering the board! Wash your face at the basin! Don’t be so scared! Hahaha…” I couldn’t say anything more. I kept staring blankly at sir’s face. My cheeks were wet with tears from both eyes. Babu sir placed his hand on my shoulder and said, “Go on, go upstairs and wait. We are not that much bad people as you thought us to be. Sometimes even the IBA faculties are too good! Freshen up, give your interview properly, now there’s no tension anymore. What’s your exam tomorrow?” “Sir, Mathematical Reasoning and Mental Ability.” “How will you go?” “Sir, I have a return plane ticket.” “Good! Brother, splash some water on your eyes and face to fix your appearance. Give your viva quickly and rush to the airport! Good luck!” At that moment I felt like touching sir’s feet in salute. People get frightened by sudden intense love. For the first time, it suddenly struck me: “What if I can’t honor this love of my teachers? What if I don’t get a chance at IBA in the end?”

When we find ourselves in trouble, if our intentions are pure, a way out always emerges! I went to the washroom on the third floor and tried my best to “make myself presentable” by wetting my hair and smoothing it down. After splashing water on my face, I went and waited in front of the notice board. I was called after 10 minutes. It was nearly seven o’clock. When I entered the room, I saw many faculty members seated there. I hadn’t known that so many would be present for an interview. I thought this was perhaps how IBA interviews were conducted. I later learned that this entire panel had been assembled just for me. Apart from Babu Sir and Rahi Sir, I didn’t recognize anyone else. After getting admitted, I realized that those present that evening were IBA’s most senior and accomplished faculty members. The board included Saiful Majid Sir, Shama-e-Zahir Sir, Mamun Sir, Munir Khosru Sir, Niaz Sir, and Saif Noman Khan Sir. Most of the junior faculty had finished their interviews and gone home, while some senior faculty were in their offices conducting Executive MBA interviews. Some of them had been specially called in. I was in the interview for about 18-20 minutes. Many of the faculty members knew about my situation that day. I had heard of something called “divine possession” in life. At certain special moments, due to particular external influences or circumstances, people suddenly gain extraordinary power. In those moments, they step outside their normal state and display different behavior. They can harness the utmost potential of their inner infinite strength. In that wondrous balanced fusion of emotion and capability, the best version of themselves emerges. From the moment I entered the interview room, I had very likely become a different person, or perhaps the very best ‘me’ from within had emerged that day. By what divine signal this happened, I don’t know. No hesitation, doubt, nervousness, fear, the day’s exhaustion, or lethargy was affecting me at all. I felt incredibly composed and light as a feather. It felt as though whatever I was saying or doing was the best possible. I was experiencing the finest moment of my life right then and there. I can say with complete honesty that the style in which I spoke English that day—I have never in my entire life, even to this day, been able to speak English so flawlessly and fluently. That day the faculty members engaged in various kinds of humor during the interview. They were having great fun with me. Most likely, the faculty wanted to “shake me up” somehow. I don’t know why, by whose indication I don’t know, but I kept answering all their questions one by one with a very cool head and a smile that day. They interviewed me in English on various diverse topics, starting from describing the entire day’s events and the preceding Facebook incidents to many other subjects. (Of course, at IBA there’s absolutely no opportunity to give interviews in Bengali.) Why I wanted to pursue an MBA, why IBA if I was going to take government job exams anyway, my weaknesses, whether I’d ever been in love, how I spend my leisure time, some conversation about reading books, various economic issues of Bangladesh, some personal and family matters, my future plans, the breathless motorcycle journey from A to Z, the BCS examination system, why I went into engineering despite having no interest, why I delayed my honors degree, why I didn’t study properly, why my CGPA was so low, what I like to eat, what kind of personality I prefer in people, what I know about IBA, some current affairs, and several other questions. I was answering very quickly in correct English. The faculty praised this too. I gave a very simple, straightforward, and candid interview. I didn’t speak a single false word that day.

I didn’t need to think before speaking—whatever came to mind, I simply said, so there was no chance to fabricate lies. At the end, they asked me to sing a song. When I said, “I can’t, Sir,” Babu Sir showed me my info-form and laughed, saying, “But you’ve claimed so.” I had written Reading, Writing, Singing in the hobbies section… At that moment, it felt like I was living the best day of my life. I sang, “Aaj ei dintake…” “I see, we’re getting a singer for our cultural program!” As Saiful Majid Sir was saying this, Babu Sir interjected, “Sir, he has another exam tomorrow. He’ll probably be flying back to Chittagong tonight.” Then three or four teachers exclaimed in unison, “What! He’s going back to Chittagong right now? Well then, run along, run along! Go downstairs and see if your superman biker is there! Hahahaha…” As I was leaving with my salaam, the teachers called out, “Best of luck for your tomorrow’s exam.” I kept thinking, again and again—I’ll make it, I’ll make it! (Even after giving the BCS viva, I didn’t feel this good.)

When I stepped out of IBA, it was half past seven on the clock. I knew there was no way I could catch the 7:45 flight. I also knew that I had no idea how I would get to Chittagong that night. I didn’t even feel like thinking about it. Only the exhilarating rush of having given a good exam was coursing through me. Pappu and Arefin had been waiting for me at Madhu’s canteen. Taking them along, I went to the front of Dhaka University’s Central Library and leisurely began eating vegetable pakoras and tea. Many of my students studied in various departments at Dhaka University. Quite a few came to see me. They were asking what questions had been asked in the interview. After a day of incredible experiences, my head had become almost entirely empty. I couldn’t understand why I wasn’t feeling the slightest urgency to return to Chittagong. Pappu asked, “Brother, will you take the night bus?” I said, “Yes, that could work.” (It amuses me now to think how casually I had said ‘that could work’!) The road conditions weren’t good then either, there were always traffic jams. It didn’t even occur to me—what would happen if I couldn’t reach by 10 AM tomorrow? Ripon, a dear younger brother who lived in Chittagong and was one of my former students, said, “Brother, I have a non-AC train ticket; for Turna Nishitha, leaving tonight. It doesn’t matter if I don’t go to Chittagong today. Brother, you take it.” “Alright, fine,” I said, took the ticket, and set off toward Kamalapur Station. That night the train left nearly an hour and a half late. I didn’t even want to think about what was going to happen! I had already surrendered myself to fate long before. In my mind I kept repeating only this: whatever will be, will be. Whether I want it or not, it will happen. And whatever is happening is surely for the good; whatever will happen will surely be for the good too. Let’s see! After the day’s exhaustion, I had a very peaceful sleep. Suddenly I woke up hearing commotion around me. The train had stopped at Comilla. Apparently there was some problem with the line. We were delayed there for nearly two and a quarter hours. I couldn’t understand why I wasn’t feeling any kind of anxiety! I fell asleep again. Sleep is the world’s only faithful lover. Whenever I want it, I find it near. Never, under any circumstances, does it abandon me. There can be no purer love than the love for sleep.

When the train reached Chittagong railway station the next day, it was a quarter to ten in the morning. My exam was scheduled to start at ten. It takes only fifteen minutes to get from the station to my house. When I got home, I found my mother sitting there with everything ready in her hands—my pencil box, board, scale, pen, calculator, admit card, registration card, all of it. My parents had been terribly anxious at home. I hadn’t been able to speak to them since after half past one at night. My mobile had run out of charge. (I was using a cheap Nokia 1100 mobile set back then. Everyone called it the “national set”! It was so sturdy that many would joke, “Dude, you could crack jackfruit with that phone!” I’d tease my friends who used expensive mobiles, saying, “My phone’s model is ‘N Eleven Zero Zero’!”) As soon as my mother saw me, she said, “Dear, how are you? Will you take today’s exam?” I felt emotionally numb. It seemed as though I was lighter than a feather at that moment, floating around in some kind of trance! I smiled and said, “Ma, I’m perfectly fine. I’ll take the exam.” Saying this, I took the packed shopping bag from my mother’s hands and left the house just as I was. It was 10:05 on the clock. From our house to the exam center, it takes at least thirty minutes by CNG during office hours. When I reached the college gate, it was 10:43. That day was the mathematical reasoning and mental ability test. The first two hours were mathematical reasoning, followed by one hour of mental ability. The exam had already started forty-three minutes earlier. Naturally, the police wouldn’t let me enter. I pleaded extensively, kept trying futilely to explain what had happened, but they weren’t willing to listen to anything. But I had made up my mind—I wasn’t going to turn back, I would get inside no matter what. A small commotion started gathering there. Seeing the crowd, the magistrate came over. After hearing my entire story, he said, “You only have one hour left. Can you finish all the math problems in this time?” Without a moment’s hesitation, I said, “I can, sir!” “Alright, go ahead. Good luck!” My heart overflowed with gratitude toward him. At that moment, he seemed to me not human, but divine! I went in, looked at the questions, took the exam. I even showed three problems to the person sitting next to me. (He got a job in Audit and Accounts in the 30th batch.) I scored 98 on that day’s exam—50 in math, 48 in mental ability. After that… well, as everyone says—the rest is history!

But this much is true: had that day’s exam been something other than mathematics, I would have been in real trouble. I can handle math because the type of problems that appeared in the BCS written exam back then weren’t particularly difficult for me to solve. Such problems don’t strain the mind much, and the 30th BCS written exam featured relatively easy math. Even if I worked through each step carefully and added side notes, it shouldn’t have taken more than half an hour. It didn’t for me either. However, spending two and a half hours on the International Affairs exam the day before had been risky. Actually, no matter how incredible the whole affair might seem, everything appears to have been predetermined by the Creator or nature itself. What remains inexplicable to our limited understanding is simply a natural, ordinary occurrence for the Creator. All our failures and successes are already decided beforehand. But to reach that point, the effort—or making the right decision at the right time—that we must do ourselves. I wasn’t even supposed to pass my undergraduate degree. Yet it was my destiny to complete my undergraduate studies, become a BCS cadre, study at IBA—all of it was written in my fate. Had my destiny been bound elsewhere, I would have gone there instead. I had enrolled in another master’s program under Dhaka University—MDS. After continuing that course for three months, I left it of my own accord. They had said I would need to officially hide the fact that I was simultaneously pursuing another master’s at IBA. I refused to lie. I harbor no regret about this, though. I’ve accepted that pursuing that particular master’s degree simply wasn’t written in my destiny. This is the truth, this is reality. I had gained admission to Dhaka University’s Evening MBA program in Finance, ranking sixth on the merit list, but never had to attend classes there. I received my IBA admission test results before that. I did complete my master’s in Finance from Dhaka University, but the Evening MBA program wasn’t destined for me, so I didn’t pursue my master’s degree from there.

Stepping into two boats in the middle of a river ensures certain death. Logic dictates this. But I placed my feet in two boats, taking the maximum risk—I had no other choice—yet both boats moved forward in parallel at the same speed at the same time, so I didn’t slip between them and lose my life. What explanation could there be for this? Life doesn’t follow logic; life follows the Creator’s signals. Life doesn’t always operate according to explanations. Sometimes life moves on faith. So there’s nothing to say about anyone’s personal philosophy and the life they live according to their beliefs, as long as that life doesn’t interfere with someone else’s way of living. Somewhere, no explicable form of life can be seen, and life is just like this!

Through sheer mental strength alone, I had believed that some miracle would surely occur. It did happen, because in Providence’s master plan, that’s what was meant to happen. Everything in between was the Creator’s games or plans to test my patience and concentration. You will never be given a gift you don’t deserve. You will be tested, and if you fail to pass that test, you will deprive yourself of the Creator’s grace through your own fault. I’m sharing with you the Facebook status I posted after the IBA admission test results came out, along with a couple of my own comments on it:

Friends, I’ve been finally selected for admission into the MBA Program of IBA, Dhaka University. …… feeling happy. ……. HATS OFF to Sharmeen didi, Ira madam & Romel bhai!!

# My dear friends….. Your gorgeous presence on my wall makes me think twice about the POWER of friendship & the MAGIC of love. YES……… They matter!! I just want to be with you forever. Please never say GOODBYE…. It hurts!! Your kindness and care mean a lot to me. You’ve always given me much more than I really deserve. Please accept my sincere GRATITUDE.

Happy Social Networking!!

Long live Facebook!!

My best wishes for our Friendship!!

……… Love you all ……

# (To one of my close friends) Dost, not reaching the Interview Session on 17 January at 5:30 pm was what I thought to be….. reaching there in time was what was written in my DESTINY….. And, I ended up calling it a MIRACLE, something I never believed in before…… Just have a look at the schedule of 17 January……

International Affairs Exam (BCS written exam)…. 10:00 am — 1:00 pm

The departure time of the GMG Airlines: 3:20 pm, there was a delay of about 1 hour due to fog and I availed another delayed flight of Bangladesh Biman at 4:37 pm.

The plane landed on Dhaka Airport at 5:13 pm and then I started my fight against time to meet the deadline by bike with Romel bhai!! Who managed those three saviours (Sharmeen didi, Ira madam & Romel bhai) for me? I don’t know. You better ask the Heaven! I saw such a breath-taking motor-bike driving only in English movies. Before that day, I had never thought I would experience it!!

Life is sometimes stranger than fiction . . . . Who can tell it better than I?

# (To one of my senior high-profile Indian friends) Thank you Sir for your words of felicitation. IBA of Dhaka University is considered as the most prestigious institute for doing MBA in Bangladesh. As per the rules of that Business School, the Major/Field of Specialization is allowed to be chosen at the final semester judging the academic records & intention of a candidate. I don’t have much idea about what to choose and why to choose. Please share some ideas on it as you’ve huge practical knowledge (so far as I know) about the present corporate trend.

You’ve nicely stated the trend of our careerist B-school graduates. No one really cares about their own aptitude, rather, tries to be what market wants them to be. Personally, I always like the decision-making and mainstream operational sections of giant companies. And, probably I’ll go for finance as my major when I’ve to choose it in my final semester. Yes, my semester results must be well enough to work on my advantage. That’ll be a story of one and a half years later. Till then, I’ll have to undergo the generalized curriculum as my B-school formulates. The recent economic recession worries our friends studying at the US universities. And, almost all of them suggest me not to plan of staying there. But at the same time, they suggest me completing my PhD in the US if I want to and grab that opportunity. Let’s wait and see. . . . . Are you in India now? Hope you’re quite OK along with your busy schedule. Please, sometimes give me your valuable suggestions when you’ve time and you’re here on Facebook. . . . . Thank you once again for your helpful advice. Take care.

In explaining the final part of the status shared above, I had written these words:

Let me share the Story behind the Story and elucidate the last part of my status. It would have been quite impossible for me to reach Dhaka University from Dhaka International Airport within just 50 minutes (!!) to attend the interview session of IBA in time on Jan 17, but for the cordial help of Sharmeen didi (Sharmeen Muiz) & Ira madam (Johora Bebe Ira). They’re the persons who made that miracle happen!! And, Romel bhai (Monirul Alam Romel) is the “Man with the Bike” who dared fight against time to meet the deadline!! ……. I feel honoured to express my heartfelt gratitude to these three saviours. …….. Miracles Happen When You Believe!!

I conclude this piece with a beautifully strange comment Sharmeen didi made on that status: “My prayers, good wishes, and prayers remain with you. Dear brother of mine, may you grow to great heights. And may the successful reflection of our efforts (Ira’s and mine) shine through in everything you do. I was there, I am here, I will be there. …….. Heaps of hugs and love.”

What sustains a human being? We live on love, on prayers, on good wishes. These are what keep me alive—quite well alive, in fact. My gratitude!

P.S. Let me offer you some practical wisdom. Those who think they know too much, who consider themselves supremely intelligent, who speak in grand terms without any real qualifications or notable position, who try to diminish others even through outright lies, who pontificate without knowledge, who speak to you in such a manner that you begin to doubt your own confidence—I would advise you to absolutely, absolutely, and absolutely avoid such people. They themselves cannot go very far in life, nor will they allow you to go very far either.

(Written 2-3 years ago)