Snappy answers to stupid questions

Those of you who are just out of university, engineering college or one of the many management institutes that dot our country, you must be working hard to bone up on a variety of subjects in preparation for your forthcoming written tests and viva voce that you will be confronted with. Suited, booted corporate executives and human resource consultants will descend in droves at your respective institutions to pluck such bright, low-hanging fruit as they can get their hands on. Word would have already spread that five-figure salaries and untold perquisites, even foreign postings, will be on offer to our budding Nooyis, Nadellas and Pichais. You can even buy books published by companies, ready reckoner they call it, that have scanned and sifted through every possible question on all manner of subjects and topics and made them available for you to rehearse and practice. Just make sure your full-sleeve shirt and grey trousers are well creased. This would apply equally to girls and their chosen attire. You should look and stay sober. And don’t spoil it all by failing to add a bit of spit and polish to your laced shoes. Slip-ons are a strict no-no. Blazer and tie are optional. Finally, stick a mint into your mouth, stand in front of a mirror and sing the National Anthem or Vande Mataram, just to get your voice in good shape. And don’t let all the current brouhaha over Vande Mataram deter you.

As you wait outside the interview room, nervously wiping your brow every now and then the understandable beads of perspiration on your forehead and upper lip, you keep mumbling imaginary answers to imaginary questions. When one of the interviewees, his ordeal concluded, walks out of the room, a whole bunch of you crowd around him hoping to get an idea of what the interrogation was like. ‘Sorry pals, I have been strictly told not to share anything with you, if prospects of my getting the job are worth anything. In case you haven’t noticed, they have installed CCTV cameras all over the place. So please, sorry. My lips are sealed.’ So saying he trots off to the canteen for a hot cuppa and a veg cutlet. His words leave the rest of us in a mystified state.

At last, your name is called. The wait is over. This is it. All those hours of burning the midnight oil is about to be put to its ultimate test. You are well primed to give as good as you get. Lead on, Macduff. You walk in with a heart for any fate. It is you against the two gentlemen and one lady on the opposite side. Fire away, you feel like saying. Instead, you merely mumble ‘Good morning,’ and sit yourself down, and take a sip of water from the glass placed in front of you.

From this point on, the narration is in the first person by the candidate.

‘Nervous?’ asks the centre-forward, who I guessed was probably the leader of the pack. A strange way to start an interview.

‘Not at all, Sir,’ I reply, wiping my brow again, my handkerchief by now quite soggy, displaying a level of confidence I did not feel.

‘So, you are not nervous. Brimming with confidence, are we?’

‘I don’t know about brimming, Sir. Quietly confident may be a more appropriate phrase.’ I was going to brazen it out, come what may.

‘Right then, let us kick things off. Shanti, would you like to take first strike?’

Shanti was a demure, confident lady, probably in her early 30s. An academic topper, I am sure. She made me feel comfortable, smiled disarmingly and spoke.

‘Tell me, you have scored very high marks in Company Law and Mathematics. Why do you think the Chief Minister of Uttar Pradesh is described as “Bulldozer Baba?’’’

Frankly, I did not know what to make of this question. A complete non sequitur. Deep waters. It was not a matter of whether I knew the answer or not. I could not fathom what the question had to do with my excellence in Company Law and Mathematics. Perhaps it was a trick question, just to keep me off-kilter. Anyhow, I kept a straight face and said, ‘Interesting question, Madam. As you must be aware, the Greek philosopher and polymath Pythagoras’ theorem states that in a right-angled triangle, the square of the hypotenuse is equal to the sum of the squares on the other two sides.’

The two male panellists both looked foxed but Shanti continued, unperturbed. ‘I see. And that principle of Pythagoras’ theorem chimes in with our Uttar Pradesh Chief Minister’s nick name of “Bulldozer Baba,” how exactly?’

Two can play the same game. I was beginning to enjoy this. ‘I am so glad you asked me that question, Madam. As you have so rightly noted, Company Law is also a subject I excelled in. Scored 88%, if I may say so myself. In which regard, it is my considered view that Salomon v A Salomon & Co Ltd [1897] AC 22 is widely regarded as the most famous case in company law, establishing the foundational principle of “separate legal personality”. The House of Lords ruled that a company is distinct from its shareholders, even if one person holds almost all shares, protecting owners from personal liability for company’s debts.’

I sat back in my straight-backed chair nonchalantly, looked a bit smug and took a long draft of the glass of aqua. It was not checkmate, but I had my black rook, knight and bishop threatening the white king with decimation. I reached for the carafe placed near me for a refill. It was going to be a long afternoon. I didn’t care about the outcome, which I was sure by now will go against me. The cut and thrust of this strange and unusual interview was affecting me like a drug and I wanted more of it.

The threesome in front of me exchanged furtive glances, got into a huddle and whispered sweet nothings to each other. This went on for a couple of minutes. When they took their seats again, the right winger, who had not spoken so far, found his voice.

‘Tell me young man, if Shakespeare were to appear in your dreams, and said something like “We are such stuff as dreams are made on; and our little life is rounded with a sleep,” how would you respond to him?’

They were clearly goading me. I decided to play along. ‘I don’t recall that I had listed English Literature as one of my subjects in college, but since you decided to take the Bard’s name in vain, I will rise to the challenge. I have read many authors who frequently quote Shakespeare, so my response to your query will be as follows. If Shakespeare appeared in my dreams, mouthing those unintelligible lines, I will look the great man in the eye and say, “By the pricking of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes.” That should be the queue for William to vanish in a puff of dreamy smoke. Then I wake up in a cold sweat, sit bold upright and utter that well-worn cinematic cliché, “Where am I?” I trust that answers your question.’

The three musketeers requested me to leave the room for a few minutes and wait outside. I think they went into another huddle. When I was summoned back and asked to resume my seat, the centre-forward cleared his throat and announced, ‘You are an unusual candidate. You did not get flustered by our deliberate filibustering, side-tracking questions. Instead, you played along with us, displaying an ironic and bizarre sense of humour. Your bio-data more than vouches for your academic competence. You came out with flying colours. You are selected. Congratulations.’

I was flabbergasted and was momentarily speechless. Then the words found utterance. ‘Thank you, Sirs and Madam. I shall await your formal letter of appointment. Meanwhile, I can only quote from Hamlet, ‘My necessaries are embark’d: farewell.’ So saying, I left the room in a flourish. I thought I distinctly heard one of them mutter behind my back, ‘If I don’t hear another Shakespearean quote, it will be perfectly all right with me.’

Expectedly, those waiting their turn, rushed towards me. ‘How did it go? What kind of questions did they ask?’

I replied calmly. ‘As you know, I am not supposed to share anything with you, but I can say this. If you are all up to speed with your Shakespeare, you stand a decent chance of making it.’