“Grandpa, what’s that?” asked little Mira, peering over his shoulder.

He put his pencil down and walked out early. The invigilator stared at his paper, then at him. She said nothing. Three months later, results were announced. Arjun had not topped the exam. In fact, he had scored zero on Question 24—because there was no “correct” answer to mark. The official answer key said: “Question 24 is a placebo. It does not count toward the total.”

On exam day, he entered a cavernous hall filled with five hundred students. The air smelled of fear and fresh pencils. When the bell rang, Arjun raced through questions. Math, Sinhala, English, General Knowledge—he answered them like a starving man eating.

Then he understood.

This wasn’t a test of knowledge. It was a test of seeing .

“There is no correct option. Write your answer on the dotted line.”

At the interview, a panel of five professors sat behind a long table. The head asked, “Why did you write about kindness?”