I knew that misfortune would befall me. I knew that I would drop out of the prestigious Indian Institute of Technology, Tamilnadu, a premier institute of India and recognized internationally for its academia, pedagogy and student quality. I knew I would lose prime jobs. I knew I’d be kicked out of my teaching assignments. Worse, I knew my beautiful wife would leave me eventually! I knew, I knew, I knew! A little birdie told me? No!

My astrologer-cum-palmist-cum-psychic-cum-scum told me.  Scum because he should have poked around, fiddled around, fudged around or whatever and got me a nice fortune cookie packed with only goodies and goodness. Not awful, nine-eleven news. Your ears, your ears will break you, take away everything that you achieved, he intoned. You won’t complete college, you’ll drop out and your mudder (mother) and fadder (father) will be disappointed. You will loose your job, your beautiful wife – she go, go, go.  (Leave) you alone…

I wasn’t bothered about my wife leaving me. I could always get another and another and …! But dropping out of IIT?! Egad!!! Hey! You can’t woo another IIT.  And, who would ever have thought that I would drop out of IIT? I was a scholarship holder and ranked 107 on the all-India Merit  List – out of almost half a million other duffers. That’s better than a Mensa rating. My astrologer must have got all his numbers mixed up! No sirree! I’ll pull through. As sure as Gere giving Shilpa a smackeroo.

But two years and several D’s later, I could not clear the finals. Not my fault, see I’m an intelligent man… 107 rank is not an easy thing, you know. It was these ears. They were leaking as if some internal plumbing had gone awry. That stupid otolaryngologist-whatever, told me that I was suffering from Bilateral Chronic Superlative Ottitis Media… he took so long to say it, that another academic year went by!

I plugged the exams again. Don’t look at me. Not my fault. My ears were full of pus and I couldn’t hear in class. Bernoulli’s Theorem sounded like baloney theorem. Periodic Table was idiotic table. “I’m afraid this is the end of the road for you, Kevin,” said a little voice from within. “Beg your pardon?” I replied.

So, I dropped out of IIT, put my tail neatly between my legs, headed back home, averted Fadder’s eyes and promptly went and slept on a bed of nails. Ouch! Ouch! A thousand times ouch!  I think a nail must have hit my head because I suddenly had this flash of genius…Why couldn’t I try my hand at creative advertising. I didn’t say ears, I said hand. My ears are useless. And, so I did!

I rose right to the top too. Last rung of the mad, ad ladder. Yoo-hoo! Then, I fell. A precipitous fall. Fractured my funny bone too. I could never laugh again. Life had played a cruel joke on me. Just when I was on Cloud 7 (or was it Cloud 9) my ears packed up. It was going sorry, sorry, sorry, can’t hear you. At client meetings, At brainstorming sessions. At briefing sessions. Everywhere. What a joke! Kevin, the creative genius, is a duh! What’s wrong with him? G’bye Kevin, it was nice knowing you. Come back again when your IQ is alive and well.          

Well, I still had my teaching assignments. A passion to the rescue. At least, that’s what I thought. And, I was wrong. After a few lectures and lots of “huh, huh,” the students voted me out. He’s deaf, they said in unison – in one deafening roar. Loud enough for my wife to hear. And she too joined in the chorus as she left my front door with her toothbrush.

Better a dead husband than a deaf husband. So, now I sit alone in my house. I have good company, four walls. How can a wife of 22 years not come to terms with the condition of a late-deafened husband?  How can intelligent professionals not understand? Why are we laughed at? They don’t it to the blind, do they?  Why can’t people accept a hard of hearing person?

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