GMAT with CJ

"What's your target GMAT score?" It's a standard question I ask in my initial calls with prospective students. His answer, however, was anything but standard. "Sir, I don't have a target score. I just want to get the best I can. I want to realize my potential, and I'm not sure what score that corresponds to." I had rarely, if ever, heard an answer like that. And his story only became more unique. He was a Tesla Engineer who wanted to do his MBA from ISB. "Why ISB?" I asked. "I want to be with my parents in India," he replied. "And I have realized that one can make enough money in any domain in which a person is genuinely interested."

"What is defeat? Nothing but education; nothing but the first step to something better." - Wendell Philips One of my students, who scored a V82 just last week, has his next attempt in a few days. As we discussed some hard CR questions yesterday, he missed five in a row. I could feel his frustration, his confidence sinking. I told him he had a choice. He could look at this the way he was, as a setback. Or, he could see that every question he got wrong now was one less mistake he was likely to make on the actual exam. He was tempted to dismiss the second perspective as just a consolation. So I pointed out that his perspective could just as easily be dismissed as self-damaging. Neither viewpoint is truer than the other. The question is: which one helps us move forward? Which one brings out our best?

The biggest danger of building a top floor without a foundation isn't that the house will collapse. It's that after a few collapses, you might believe a house can 'never' be built there. I had a student who, after working with a couple of other GMAT teachers, was on the verge of believing she could ‘never’ learn quant. Why? Both teachers had started with hard questions. They would explain the solutions, but when she tried to solve similar problems on her own, her mind would go blank. Each attempt left her more terrified. But when we started from the very basics, she found quant was within her reach. Gradually, she felt more and more confident in her ability. It came to a point she started enjoying math. I’ve found it often happens that way. Once you get a hold of something that has been your biggest weakness, you start to love it. Her story makes me wonder: how many people believe they can ‘never’ do something, simply because they started on the wrong floor?

Why do GMAT scores plateau? We need three things to succeed on the GMAT: knowledge, concepts, and skills. Knowledge is the most superficial layer — it’s about knowing formulas, facts, and rules. It can be acquired quite easily. Concepts go deeper. They’re about understanding why those formulas or rules work and when to apply them. Mastering concepts takes time and deliberate effort. Skills, however, lie at the core. These are fundamental intellectual capabilities like reasoning and comprehension. They take months, sometimes years, to build. The fastest improvement happens when you accumulate GMAT-specific knowledge. But after a point, simply knowing more won’t move your score. You’ll need to deepen your understanding — to connect ideas and see how concepts apply across contexts. That shift, too, drives improvement until it doesn’t. Beyond that stage, no amount of extra concepts or rules can substitute for sharper skills. And this is where many test-takers get stuck. Because knowledge and concept gains did lead to earlier improvements, they assume more of the same will continue to work. But progress isn’t linear. Once you hit that plateau, the only way forward is to evolve from learning more to learning deeper.

As I solved a quant question in front of a student, he remarked, "I doubt I can ever get there." Here's how I replied: "If you say you can't do this in 3 months, I'll agree. If you say you can't do this in a year, I'll start to doubt you. But if you say you can't do this in two years, I'll call that nonsense. I wasn't born with this skill. It might look 'natural' now, but it was learned over time. You doubt yourself because you're staring at the gap between where you are and where I am. Looking at it that way makes the goal feel impossible—like asking a newborn who can't yet walk to imagine running a marathon. Of course, you can get here. But you don't need to worry about the marathon every day. Just focus on understanding 20 questions. Does that seem impossible? No, right? You don't build a house by staring at the blueprint all day. You lay one brick perfectly, then the next. Do that every day, and eventually, you'll have your house."

I often hear students say their problem is "overthinking." If that’s the problem, the solution should be simple: think less. But does that really solve anything? I suspect it only compounds the issue. You aren't faltering because you're thinking too much, but because you're not thinking things through. It’s the feeling of having a dozen thoughts in your head at once, without taking the time to untangle them—to see which ones hold up and which ones fall apart. Without that follow-through, the confusion doesn't disappear. It just waits. The next time you approach the problem, that same cloud of unresolved thoughts rushes back. That experience isn't "overthinking." It's the echo of unfinished thinking.

What if we ask a different question? Instead of asking, “How do I get my desired GMAT score?” we can ask, “How do I deserve my desired GMAT score?”. Wouldn’t that bring about a big difference in the way we look at the whole journey of GMAT preparation? Wouldn’t that make us ask questions very different from what we have been asking till now? I think that may also determine whether we succeed on the GMAT and, even more importantly, whether we learn from our GMAT preparation.

“Do you think I can ever crack the GMAT?” I’ve heard this question a few times over the past few months. It comes from a place of exhaustion—after trying hard and still falling short. Lately, I’ve started responding with a question of my own: “What if I say, ‘No, you can never crack it’? What would you do then?” The question makes them pause. In that silence, many realize something surprising: even if I were to say ‘No,’ a stubborn flicker of hope inside them refuses to go out. It’s as if their heart already knows: this is not impossible. That’s why I ask. I believe nothing is truly out of reach—especially something many others have already done. It’s simply a matter of time and direction. If you are willing to put in the time and your direction is right, you will get there. The distance to your goal only determines the length of the journey. It doesn't make the destination impossible. So when doubt creeps in, perhaps the best question isn’t for me or anyone else. It’s for that stubborn flicker inside you.

"How much time did you take to prepare for the GMAT?" A relative asked me this a while back. She had been preparing for months and was still far from her target score. “More than 10 years,” I replied. “You won’t need as much.” The GMAT primarily tests one's way of thinking - something I’ve been cultivating since high school. So, when it came time for the test, I didn’t need much separate preparation. The foundation was already there. But my experience shouldn't discourage you. Nor should it be mistaken for genius. This ability wasn't innate. It was built with years of effort, which can make the result look natural to an outsider. I tell my students: “You may be sharper or more intelligent than me. But what has taken me years to build will take you more than a few days. Be patient. See my ease with questions not as a sign of genius, but as a result of effort. When you see it that way, you’ll learn to cherish the process instead of running from it.”

The GMAT tests you not 'on' these questions, but 'through' them. It isn't a test of knowledge, because you will likely never see these specific question types again. So why do business schools care so much about your score? Because they see it as a reflection of the skills that matter in an MBA program and beyond: deep comprehension, critical reasoning, and a fluency with numbers. Your GMAT prep, then, is about building these core skills. It doesn’t matter how you build them, only that you do. If the skills are there, the score will follow. As you prepare, the real question becomes: Am I building my abilities? Am I becoming a person with better comprehension, sharper reasoning, and more comfort with real-world quantitative concepts? If the answer is no, your prep might be focused on the wrong things.

In 1984, Swedish psychologist Lars-Eric Unestahl offered a startling insight into sports psychology: “There is more of a chance of an athlete becoming a winner if they do not have winning as a goal.” Dr. Unestahl had observed that top athletes focus on tasks, not trophies. Their primary goal isn't to beat someone else, but to beat their own previous performance. This applies directly to anyone preparing for the GMAT. The real question isn't about the final score, but about learning from the single problem in front of you. The score is simply a byproduct of that focus.

Why do some GMAT scores stall, even after months of preparation? It often comes down to one habit: we suppress confusion instead of resolving it. You read a statement. You're pretty sure it means X, but a small voice inside wonders, "Could it also mean Y?" It feels faster to ignore it. Evaluating alternatives takes energy, and there are other questions to do. We start to treat confusion like a weakness, a sign we aren't ready. So we push it down and move on. *** During a quant session, a student showed me her solution to a problem. I asked her to explain the logic connecting her first step to her second. She thought for a few minutes, then said with a sigh of frustration, "This is why I don't overthink. The more I think, the more confused I become." "The thinking isn't the problem," I suggested. "It's just unearthing the confusion that was already there, hidden beneath the surface." "The goal isn't to run from that feeling," I added. "It's to let those questions come out, write them down, and face them one by one." The faster path is tempting. But where does it truly lead?

The classic dilemma of a timed test like the GMAT is speed versus accuracy. If you rush, accuracy slips. If you slow down for accuracy, time runs out. It’s a familiar tension in life, too. The faster we move, the more things unravel. To handle anything with care, we find we have to slow down. So what if we chose sanity over speed? What if the goal wasn’t to cram our days to hit arbitrary targets, but to do fewer things at a pace that lets us enjoy them? A fast-paced life promises excitement, but constant rush dulls our senses to the ordinary, turning life into a chase for the next big thrill. But there’s another kind of richness available: the quiet joy of a new thought, the way sunlight filters through leaves, the surprise of a new birdsong. It seems that if we just slowed down, we’d get more of the questions right. In life, I mean. Perhaps life isn’t a timed test, after all. Unless we choose to make it one.

A student was correctly eliminating wrong answers, but his justifications were based on superficial rules: "this option is out of scope," "this introduces a new term," or "that uses an extreme word." When I suggested that sound reasoning is crucial for the truly hard questions, he pushed back. "But my way works most of the time." "Your stated process isn't what's working," I explained. "Your intuition is. You're getting the right result despite your reasoning, not because of it. The danger isn't now; it's for those questions where your intuition fails. A flawed process won't save you then. You need a conscious process that is strong enough to stand on its own."

"I feel like someone just told me I've been living a lie for 28 years." That's what a student told me in our recent GMAT session. Her moment of clarity didn't come from a complex formula or a tricky grammar rule. It came after realizing how much she faltered at understanding the meaning of the statements themselves—the very words on the page. For months, she had been focusing on various techniques and strategies, but they were just band-aids on a foundational wound. She was treating the symptoms, not the cause, and her frustration grew without her understanding why. While her case applies to many GMAT aspirants, the way she phrased her comment made me wonder whether I would also face such a moment of reckoning in the domain of life itself. The way we live our lives, the priorities that guide our day-to-day decisions, the goals we are pursuing—are they aligned with our truth? Or would a moment come when I'll be told that I had been living a lie thus far? #GMAT #Coaching #Mentorship #LifeLessons #SelfReflection

Many believe I am against setting a deadline for GMAT preparation. I am not. I am against letting a deadline lead to 𝘂𝗻𝗽𝗿𝗼𝗱𝘂𝗰𝘁𝗶𝘃𝗲 preparation. Productive preparation means focusing on the quality of your learning, not just the quantity of questions you complete. It’s about understanding a concept deeply, not just checking it off a list. When you prepare this way, a deadline is perfectly fine. The problem is when a date on the calendar, driven by b-school timelines, creates a frantic rush. The focus shifts from mastery to completion, which often leads to a disappointing score and months of effort down the drain. The timeline—whether it's six weeks or six years—is secondary. What matters is the quality of your work each day. If you focus on that, you'll be done with the GMAT as efficiently as possible. So the real question is not whether you should set a deadline, but: Does setting a deadline help you give your best every day, or does it push you toward unproductive shortcuts? If it motivates you, set it. If it stresses you, skip it.

I live with a lot of doubt. Even in an area I know quite a lot like GMAT prep, my language is always hedged: "This is what I think," "I believe so." Then I look around and see people brimming with confidence about so many things. I don't envy them. I used to wonder how they could be so sure. Now, I suspect they are simply ignorant of their own ignorance. Is it arrogant to suggest I'm aware of my blind spots while others are not? Perhaps it is. But for now, it's the only conclusion that makes sense to me.

"If you want to solve 'x' level problems, prepare with '2x' level problems." This is common advice, but it often skips a critical step. The idea that training for something harder makes the target goal feel easier is sound, but only when you've earned the right to be there. It’s like trying to bench press 200 pounds when you can barely lift the 45-pound bar. Jumping to the impossible weight isn't training; it's a recipe for injury and frustration. You get stronger by adding 5 pounds, then another 5, feeling the strain of a productive challenge. The same is true for learning. If you’re still wrestling with 0.2x difficulty, tackling 2x is a waste of time. You won't learn from material so far beyond your current edge. The path to 2x mastery runs directly through x.

“If my future were determined just by my performance on a standardized test, I wouldn’t be here. I guarantee you that.” – Michelle Obama It’s helpful to keep the GMAT in perspective. Blowing its importance out of proportion creates a kind of stress that works against you. It seeps into your preparation and, ultimately, your performance on the test.

There’s an old saying about digging for water: you can dig a hundred one-foot wells, or you can dig one hundred-foot well. This is a perfect metaphor for GMAT prep. You can solve thousands of questions on the surface, or you can solve a hundred by going deep—understanding every layer of the question, every nuance of the options. Both feel like hard work. Only one actually strikes water.