Deepak Padmakumar IFS Topper Rank 31:
Born on 4th Novemeber, 1986 the blogger from Bangalore named Deepak Padmakumar got ranked 31st in UPSC CSE 2012 with flying colors. Deepak has been allotted Indian Foreign Service.
Educational background:-
From University of Kerala, Bachelor of Technology (BTech), Computer Science
Work experience:-
Deepak worked previously with Voith Hy-dro Pvt. Ltd.(Private) and he was recruited in Indian Railways(Government).
Hobbies:-
Deepak has wide interests such as Photography, Reading, Travelling and Writing!
Mark obtained bu DEEPAK PADMAKUMAR:
| Mains marks | 666 |
| interview | 201 |
| Total marks | 867 |
Blog by DEEPAK PADMAKUMAR :-
Hello again ! I am back !! Now before all of you start jumping up and down in glee, and dislocating your knees (or jump off your high rise apartment to plummet to your deaths as the case maybe), let me assure you that I haven’t the faintest idea if this lame attempt to recussitate my blog, which sadly has been in a comatose state for a while now will bear fruit. It will take a ginormous effort of Munnabhai MBBSeque proportions to get this thing back and running.
Anyway before I begin recounting the sorrowful trials and travails of my life for your enjoyment, let me, as promised thank a certain Ms.Divi Nair who implored, begged, bribed and threatened her way into getting me to ‘write something’. This post would still be silently gestating (without causing much labour pain may i add) if I wasn’t convinced beyond the shadow of a doubt that Divya’s very existence depends totally and entirely on the words that flow out of my 0.5 Staedtler MARS777 (doesn’t say much for Divya does it?). And the words aren’t really flowing out, they are spluttering out in stops and starts accompanied by constant head tilting and ‘hmmming’ and ‘haawing’ much like a cross between a badly maintained Bajaj Chetak from 1975 and an aged horse on it’s last legs (which funnily would be the same legs it started out with as a strapping young pony, but you get my point. I hope.). So I write this not as Descorpio86, he who shares mundane drivel from his oh-so-normal life but in essence as a life-giver, as Brahma if you will. With this newly acquired status conferred upon me by none other than myself I have decided, as the first act of my glorious existence to anoint the aforememntioned Divi Nair as my ‘Fan No.1’. Which is a pity, because what I need right now is not a fan, but an air conditioner.
Since moving to Noida (Yes, my dear sympathisers and point-your-finger-and-laughers, NOIDA. If you think that’s bad here’s more. Noida is not some cute name for the place. It actually stands for New Okhla Industrial Development Area. Yeah, that’s right, I am not staying in a city, town or even a village, but in an ‘area’), it’s been a long, hard and energy sapping struggle against the heat. Heat here is not just a feeling (as in ‘I can feel the heat’). Here, the heat is alive! It can kill, moving silently among us, much like the ‘monster’ in Lost (ok…too much drama you think?). I can still clearly recall my first encounter with the NCR heat, mostly because the memory was seared onto the side of my brain, the side that stores painful memories, as I stepped out of the Jet Lite flight S232. The heat came rushing up and gave me one huge sucker punch smack in the middle of my already distorted face, blowing me off my feet and set me tumbling face first down those unbelievably rickety stairs-on-wheels thingies which are deemed safe only at airports. The wind was blowing with full gusto, but it wasn’t a cool or refreshing wind. It was hot, dry and very likely to cause a sunstroke. Appropriately enough, this dastardly phenomenon is called the ‘Loo’, because it does make you feel absolutely ‘shitty’. The shuttle ride from the plane was funny in a tragic sort of way in that the seats were too hot to sit on and the plastic from the handles was (or is it ‘were’? I am confused..) slowly but surely melting and forming little yellow puddles on the floor of the bus. There was no point opening the windows and the air con wasn’t working. A little part of me just died, or evaporated.
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