One of my friends, Mr. Keshri, used to take a keen interest in the achievements of Prerna Classes and proudly discussed it everywhere. Initially, I was his friend, but the success of Prerna Classes had dramatically altered our relationship. I could sense that I had become an object of fascination to him. The closeness of our friendship had been replaced by a wall of reverence. By that time, we had gained a strong reputation in the city. Many of my friends, like Mr. Keshri, would seize every opportunity to boast about us. We conducted classes at Loyola and LFS. However, we faced opposition from a certain section of students and their parents who were unhappy with our testing system, which involved eliminating students who performed poorly in our exams. Our intention was not to harm them, but rather to guide their efforts in the right direction. Vikas, known for his laconic style, would simply write "DISCONTINUE". He resided in a gated society, while I lived in a small quarter that reflected a typical middle-class life—rather somber, gloomy, and isolated. Anyone could enter without hindrance. I often faced confrontations from parents, with statements like, "We'll see. Do you know who I am? I know your departmental head." This would be followed by a long list of abuses and threats. I recall one individual who arrived at my house in a state of fury, wearing shorts and a half T-shirt. I abruptly asked him, "आप के बाकि कपड़े किस ने उतारे?" He was taken aback and hastily departed. Later, I discovered that he used to be Vikas' boss.
One day, I visited Central Bank in Bistupur to meet Mr. Keshri, who greeted me warmly as usual. He introduced me to a gentleman named Mr. Chatterjee and asked, "Do you know him?" while pointing in my direction. The serious man exclaimed loudly, "Who wouldn't know them? They are the education mafia." Witnessing Mr. Keshri in a state of brokenness, utterly dejected and in immense pain, I tried to console him gently, saying, "Don't worry, my friend. There's nothing to feel sorry about. Even Lord Krishna was not spared and was called Ranchor Jee." Unsure of where we stood, I left the bank and merged into the bustling crowd on the street...