CV

Roti-kapda-aur makaan-they might continue to be the basic needs of the human race.

For the other species titled ‘Indian MBA’-s,the most basic need is the two worded Latin term :Curriculum Vitae.Also referred to as Resume,put simply it is “a document that contains a summary or listing of relevant job experience and education.” But a literal translation of the Latin term is a lot more gracious : ‘course of life’. That surely sounds infinitely more serious and deep-and kinda urges you to take the CV more seriously.

CV=Course of Life

 

 

Essentially the CV of the Indian MBA(or wannabe) can be divided into the following broad parts:

1.Education  Section: Ignoring the amazingly early reach of education in India(a bit of reverse calculation on any average CV of an India boy/girl will reveal he/she started studying around the age of 6 months-1 year on an average),this section makes for very cute reading. The MBA wannabe mentions his exploits as the Head boy/girl in his own territory of a school inhabited by a little more than 40  nubile half pant clad batch mates. These descriptions are littered in between with the constellation of sit and draw/quiz/debate/essay writing/sports contests which every locality,school and apartment in India holds every sunday to cater to the CV requirements of its kids in future.

2.Undergraduate Section : This is a section that is much like a mini skirt.It hides more than what it reveals.The suspicious looking figures titled GPAs(percentages) never ever are coupled by the fact as to how many where there in the batch of the candidate.Also each of the 1000 odd boards and universities in the nation use their own methods and terminologies to calculate the GPAs of the students-so much for standardization.The weekend event section replicates here too-this time the locality of reference changing to College ‘fests’-which are essentially dotted with events consisting of only the judge and the handful of participants with zero audience. The audience conserve their energy for the psychedelic nites where the star attractions (Pakistani music groups/local small rock groups or some upcoming reality show singer) steal the show and a hell loadsa moolah.More on the fest story some time later.

3.Work Experience Section : In the new millennium,the ‘work’ experience of an Indian youth can be divided into 2 broad categories:IT and non IT.The latter essentially falls in the domain of manufacturing,financial services,marketing and sales jobs or in the rare case in education.These actually entail holding responsible positions in organizations after having worked up the corporate ladder by understanding the nuances of the job in hand.The (in)glorious job of an IT employee in an unfairly majority of the cases involves maintainence jobs of development work done abroad.A minuscule portion of the candidates are true blue developers or end up holding substantial leadership roles.Apart from these few who can claim to possess the virtues of having quality work experience,the others can be whitewashed as mere overpaid coolies in the cyber world.

4.Extra curricular activities : While some part of it was hinted at in the education section,this is one section that must be there in every CV where the candidate essentially tries to prove,just like all other candidates,that he/she is unique and is definitely not a nerd/geek.The bullet points begin with heavy duty verbs like bamboozled/overthrew/dethroned/secured/achieved till the interviewer pleads for no more.Again the context and the number of participants of the competitions are suspiciously missing-when those details are delved into,which any seasoned interviewer does,the story changes altogether.

5.Interests and other activities :Interestingly this last section is the one which tells the interviewer/panelist the most about the candidate.Reason being simple,this is the section where there is no certificate to prove your claim-you gotta write in an indirect sense only and only about yourself.And this is where the difference is created.One can hide the true picture of a contest in a fest,but one cannot fake his own interests and hobbies just by writing about it.Funny thing is,this is a part which is often misquoted as ‘additional information’ or something like a footnote-nothing could be further from the truth.This is the section which tells the most about a candidate-and should be treated with equal importance like the previous sections.

A bunch of CVs of Indian MBAs or wannabes is fur more interesting to read than the day’s newspaper,ah well,a hapless HR executive sent to recruit fresh MBAs from an insti might disagree to it…

 

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The Abuse of Globalisation in Indian B Schools

 

The entire B school experience differs according to which side of the story you belong to-in it,or outside as an aspirant.The latter stage,which naturally comes first,is one filled with wide-eyed admiration for the goings-on in the hallowed interiors of the b schools-with all the rich perks that come alongwith it.Once inside,the picture changes to one that is based on a lot more practical approach,to realize the necessity to do the needful to achieve your dreams.Of the many trends that rule the roost in Indian B schools,the one that takes the cake is that of ‘globalisation‘ in an entirely Indian context.The term unfortunately has been used,and overused and ultimately abused heavily in b schools all over the country-here is why.

 

Go Global!!

 

 

To put it simply,Globalisation in this context would refer to the round about way to answer a query/case to hide one’s inability to come up with substantial content.Unfortunately it is not that simple as it seems-the term has more of a negative connotation to it in most people’s minds.

For example,an attempt to answer a question on strategy,using the words ‘Maslow’,'holistic’ and ’sustainable competitive advantage’ in the same sentence banishes you to the ignomony of the title of ‘global heavyweight champion’ for the rest of your mba life.So that’s the idea,someone who is not succint enough,not clear enough-resorts to globalisation.A simple way to identify the ‘globalising’ attempt of a person is the repetative usage of words such as “basically”,”actually”,”this thing”,”that thing”,”you know” or “umm” in the midst of an explanation.More often than not,it is difficult to carry it off,without a bit of articulation.Thus smooth talkers,with generous dose of lip service hold strong chances of turning global champions.

 

Global Heavyweight Champion

 

 

However,there are two basic myths/unjustified notions associated with the phenomenon of globalisation-firstly,the scenario when you hear someone speaking something which you already know of.This tragic set of events takes place,everytime when you expect someone to come up with some entirely new take on a topic that is known beforehand-and when the person explains the same funda that is known previously-he is unfortunately termed ‘global’.This is entirely unfair to the person in question-his understanding is defintely not at fault here-the recipient’s expectations are.

Secondly,the yardstick that is used to compare subjects which are absolutely impossible to compare end up marking some of the most beautiful subjects as ‘global’.One classic example would be the bracketing of some subject like “organisational behaviour” as global vis-a-vis “financial management”-owing to the lack of quantification in the former as compared to the latter.

Amongst prospective students themselves,there are 2 major categories identified,the ones who are unabashed followers of ‘globalisation’ and depend on it for a living.The other variety which borders on the thin lines of hypocrisy prides itself as belonging to the ‘objective’ club and still resort to ‘the big G’ in trying situations to save themselves.

The picture is pretty clear at the end of the day-the subtle nuances of globalisation are here to stay-the longer the queue of the mba-s being churned out in the country becomes-the tentacles of globalisation,good or bad, will spread even further.

'm here 2 stay

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Where have all the Bong beauties gone?(The Telegraph-25th Jan)

This is my first attempt at posting a newspaper article in the blog article.This piece really touched a cord somewhere-felt the growing worry vindicated more than ever before through this article:where have all the beauties gone from our beloved Bong land?Read along,and fellow bong tigers,let go with a collective sigh.

 

Where have all the Bengali beauties gone? Mumbai, Delhi, Bangalore and Boston have picked them all.

Oh, when will we ever learn? When will we ever learn?

Suchitra-Enigma

 

 

We won’t. We learn only about brain drain. Know that the best and brightest have left our shores to make their lives elsewhere. But we learn not about the beauty drain — and are probably not even aware.

Well, except for the sworn birdwatcher. Heterosexual, urban, educated, bourgeois, male. Or, the species that, too, like the bird is a threatened category. Why? Because he’s also the guy who’s left.

One such has just hit town. Sambaran Mitra, a mariner in his early thirties, considers himself a veteran birdwatcher.On a night out in Park Street, he exclaims: “Where are the babes gone?” If you can’t find them in Park Street, you can’t find them anywhere.

So Sambaran returns home. Mind phres nehi hua.

That needs some explaining. He recalls his early birdwatching days.“If you had a long day and were burdened with the weight of the world on your shoulders, all you needed to do was walk to the balcony and look down on the streets. And invariably, there she would be, your knight in a shiny dress shimmying round the corner to rescue your soul.”

The sunshine girl.

“And as my janitor friend would say standing next to me taking a drag on his bidi, ‘Mind phres ho gaya’.”

Now even rock shows, he complains, don’t throw up hot babes!

Where are they? A simple answer to that would be: “In Delhi, in Mumbai, in Bangalore, in London, in Los Angeles,” where the money is, for economics has a deep relationship with aesthetics, and we are talking not only about the Presidency girl.

 

 

Ahh, the Presi girl.

That was the Eighties and she looked like Suchitra Sen and read Schumpeter, which means she studied economics. And it’s not that she didn’t have competition.

So the birdwatcher of yore had a lot to do, assuming watching is a male prerogative. For women, assuming they are interested in the men, wouldn’t have much watching to do. Bengali men didn’t ever have much to show except their potbellies and glass-bottom specs — not pecs. He doesn’t require to be photogenic, heroic, or hygienic. His CV was, and is, his sex appeal. His life is his mind. If not, look in his wallet.

Aparna-Innocence

 

 

 

 

“Bengali men have always had the temperament of the zamindar, but not the fine physique, smartness, charm or even a proper dress sense to draw the attention of the opposite sex,” says make-up artist and sculptor Gosto Kumar.

The burden of beauty fell on women. And they obliged. But that was then.

Real life reflects on the screen. In the beginning was Suchitra Sen. When she looked archly from the corner of her wide, black eyes and sang “tumi-i bolo” to Uttam Kumar’s “Ei path jodi na shesh hoy…” riding pillion, an entire generation wanted a bike but couldn’t because the EMI hadn’t yet been discovered.

Calcutta is still whipped into a frenzy to see blurred images of her with silver-grey hair.

Another Sen, the poet Jeebanananda’s imaginary Bonolata, belonged to the same tradition in the popular mind, only more ineffable.

Maybe it was a conspiracy of class and caste, but they embodied the “feminine mystique” for the Bengali. “Sari, big red bindi, gorgeous waist, long pallu, sleeveless blouse, hair hanging free and furious like Durga,” says Devashish Makhija, a film-maker.

Sreelekha

 

 

“In my mind that is the Bengali woman I make love to, getting lost in the aranya (forest) of her hair.”

Jeebanananda, who compared Bonolata’s eyes to a bird’s nest, may squirm at that attempt at poetry but for yesterday’s birdwatcher the world was a chirpy forest. There was much to get lost in on a visit to the Coffee House (College Street), Presidency College, the Xavier’s Green Benches, Xavotsav, the Jadavpur lobby, the Maddox Square puja pandal, and who didn’t look forward to a wedding, well into the Nineties.

Then there was deforestation. Demolition, actually. The JU lobby and the Green Benches at Xavier’s were pulled down. And the girls left.

The young, talented, ambitious girls began to leave the city almost as much as the men did. According to the Calcutta University records and statistics section, almost the same number of male and female students go away after graduation, mostly from Presidency, St Xavier’s and other well-known colleges.

The boys had been leaving. But when the best and the brightest of the feminine gender leave, they take with them the beauty.

Calcutta’s economic decline has coincided with beauty — and brain — drain.

“You don’t know how dull the JU campus is,” says a hardened campus visitor. “The best are simply missing,” she adds.

Surveys are yet to be conducted on the number of beauties Calcutta has lost to the lures of Mumbai, for professional reasons, and Maryland (for which you can blame the dollar-jingling NRI who flies down in the winter and flies away with a beauteous bride before you can say winter).

Swastika

 

 

Bipasha Basu left immediately after making it big. Some other knockout Bengalis (meaning anyone born and brought up in Bengal), like Koena Mitra, Celina Jaitley, Riya and Raima Sen, also hotfooted it to Mumbai.

Sushmita (Yes! Sen again), who is not from Calcutta but an honorary Bengali, only visits the city to see her relatives.

Then there are those who remain nameless. Like the Presi girl and the office floor scorcher, who don’t seem to be there in large numbers.

Cal misses u

 

 

A promo of the upcoming Bengali film Trishna, showing Rituparna Sengupta emerging from the sea in a backless and midriff-baring crochet top and mini skirt, permed hair flying around her face, greets those passing through Park Street. But even she’s trying her luck in Mumbai.

Calcutta, looks like, has no perch for the pretty.

Yup her too-Celina

 

 

Many don’t agree. They believe that the traditional Bengali beauty is just buried beneath tonnes of bad make-up. Strange clothes, too.

 

he kind of clothes Bengali women wear on the upper regions of their body is discrepant with their look. Bengali women wear tops that are designed to imitate the tops that European women wear. This is disgusting. The other day I saw a Bengali newscaster wearing such a top and she looked very ugly as she had a very Bengali face that did not go with her look,” says Ganesh Pyne, the artist.

The Bengali woman has traditionally been proud of her curves. But jeans are not flattering to a curvaceous body and those who know it hit the gym to iron themselves out.

“It’s the time for the unisex look and girls are also wearing jeans. But I don’t mind,” says writer Sunil Gangopadhyay, the creator of another Bengali feminine ideal, Neera, presumably made of poetry. “But at weddings, when they go back to the sari, it feels good.”

So is it the missing sari that has robbed the Bengali beauty of her beauty? There may be something in that. “The mystery of the Bengali woman is missing. There is nothing left to discover,” laughs Aniruddha Chakladar, a make-up artist.

Like ma-Riya

 

“Everyone has the same hair, wears similar clothes and make-up and uses the same language. It’s a very clonish generation,” he adds.

Who has the time to drape a sari and brush long, lustrous hair when she has to drop the kid to school at eight, reach a meeting at 10, finish the project report by six, cook dinner, help the kid with homework… phew!!! Do you know what it is like to be an urban, educated woman these days?

Decades have passed since Suchitra Sen and the sari. “I wear pants!” this lady says. “In the house too!” she says.

Clothes, sadly, can only enhance beauty, can’t hide it. So the theory that the secret behind the missing Bengali beauties is the absent sari doesn’t cut much ice, or cloth.

There are young men who support the modern woman dressing in modern clothes. They don’t feel the beauty is missing, either.

“I wouldn’t say that the beautiful Bengali faces are missing. I would say their look has changed,” says Parambrata Chatterjee, an actor.

“Modern High, La Martiniere for Girls, JU and Presidency used to be places for the boys to look for pretty faces. A fortnight back, I was again at both JU and Presidency to promote my film Kalbela, and it did not seem that the beautiful faces had left campus,” he adds.

Beauty is in the eyes of the beholder, the cliché goes. But birdwatcher Sambaran still feels something is amiss. “A heterosexual man has a kind of sensor, a third eye whereby he can feel the presence of sunshine in his proximity. The range and accuracy of the radar can differ from man to man. Once a target is sensed, some stare, some glance, some smile, some sneak a peek.”

That sensor, he says, is not going beep beep.

Forget about the Nano leaving Bengal. It’s only a car. Sunshine may have gone from our midst.

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Double Trouble

 

 

The movie bug is working overtime.Biting me here,there-everywhere.

And continuing in the trend of the last post,this blog is running the risk of becoming a review column!But it never harms to talk about things good and worth telling a story-and this time there are two movies that I’m gonna talk about here: ‘Oye Lucky Lucky Oye!’ and ‘Dasvidaniya’.

 

Oye Lucky Lucky Oye!

About 8 years earlier,with Farhan Akhtar’s Dil Chahta Hain seeing the light of the day,I remember predicting that the 

future of Indian Cinema is in safe young hands,not relying on the chiffon saree and heroine-under-the-waterfall formulae anymore.With the likes of Farhan Akhtar,Sanjay Leela Bhansali,RGV(ya ya i know this sounds controversial),Karan Johar,Rajkumar Hirani in the bag-we,the audience,are in for some treat from time to time at least.

With Khosla ka Ghosla,there was a proud addition of Dibakar Banerjee to the list,his forte is simple:Strong Story Telling techniques,Portraying emotions well,roping in good actors(not stars)-all withing a low budget framework.

With a very good first film,the expectations about the director reaches a high-and it is such a relief to find that Dibakar Banerjee does more than a decent job with his second offering to us.Oye Lucky is one of the best paisa-vasool movies one can find in the recent times.

Abhay Deol can safely be called as the best actor in the deol clan at present.He doesn’t uproot tubewells and maul a trainful of insurgents or stand like a tree bereft of any emotions like his two elder brothers.He does his job competently and in the movie portrays possibly the most liekeable thief in Indian Cinema history.But my personal favorite are two characters in the movie-Bangali and Dolly.Dolly for her wonderful one-liners.Examples:”Main touch ho gayi-by God!” or,”Scent bara sweet hain-old spicy?” or the winner,”Lucky main tereko Hot nehi lagti?”

Bangali is the quintessential sidekick with a penchant for easy going oneliners.sample this.When they are in prison, Bangali advises Lucky not to get hassled by the cops.  He says: “Usne marliya, humne khaliya.Aise hi toh relations bante hain.”

Some of the sequences in the film has some indirect influences from Catch me if you can-but overall in one a great One time watch.

    Dasvidaniya

What are the ten things you would like to do before you die three months from now?One line crux of the story.Again a loose adaptation of the Jack Nicholson starrer “The bucket list”,the movie itself is nothing earth shattering.

the acting prowess of vinay pathak holds the story together-after bheja fry,this erstwhile stage and tv star is now a regular in most big releases doing bit roles,but watch him come into his own in this simple yet captivating role.his cleverer self is a bit too thetrical,but the central character portrayed by vinay makes you laugh and weep alongwith him during the two hour journey on the silver screen.

Rajat kapoor is his usual suave self.Saurabh Shukla is brilliant as the quintessential non-performing,shifting-the-file-burden kinda indian boss that we all have endured at some point or the other in our lives.None of the other roles are anything to write home about,although the debutant director in Shashant Shah manages to extract the best out of each of the actors in all the bit roles.

The music is nothing special-although the soulful ‘Mumma’ is possibly the best song about the son-mother relationship after the unforgettable ‘Ma’ from Tare Zameen Par.

Again-a very good timepass,Shashant Shah,the debutant director is definitely one to watch out for.

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Mauled by The White Tiger

The Cover

First the coincidence-the story almost entirely shuttles between two Indian metros-Delhi and Bangalore. And I happened to read the book on my way back to Delhi from Bangalore. The eerie resemblance of the journey of Balram Halwai from the ‘darkness’ of Laxmangarh to the lights of the entrepreneurial chandelier in Bangalore to my strange journey was enough of a catalyst to produce this post in the blog after a long while. Also being called ‘the white tiger’ by your girlfriend, for an entirely different set of reasons mind you, does help to incite the creative flow even after a long self-imposed hiatus.

But the coincidence is just part of the story-may be just a prologue. The crux is the outstanding raconteur in Aravind Adiga and his observational powers of the India around himself. In a recent interview he has mentioned specifically his trait of listening to and learning from people and experiences around himself to give him material for the book, much like Balram in the story.

The single reason why this book should be read by all of us, is the angry, dark look that it casts on the truth that is India, the India that we so conveniently choose to ignore every day, the India which won’t make for a true advertisement for the Incredible India campaign for sure-but which sadly, rather incredibly (?) is still the real India.

Sounds familiar? Well, let me give you a spoiler, so will the book, it will sound familiar to you when you read it, but with each small funny anecdote in the pages, you actually mock at yourself –as we so wilfully get encaged in the ‘Rooster Coop’. What’s that, did you say? We all know what it is in India-but read the book to shame yourself a bit more with a bit more of self-realisation. A few more gems from Adiga that really stand out:

The story is actually ‘The Autobiography of a Half-Baked Indian’. Chances are that most readers of this post will be fully baked-but we all are responsible for this ‘half baking’ in some way or the other. How? Go read the book! Boy! If Adiga and Harper Collins do not pay me some royalty for this kind of vicious word-of-mouth, then I’m going to half-bake them for sure.

Ok, bitter truth now: Entrepreneurs are made of half baked clay. So all fully baked readers of this post: I’m sorry about the sad bit of news. But your pastures lie in some other greener place may be.

“But the river brings darkness to India-the black river-river of Death, whose banks are full of rich, dark, sticky mud whose grip traps everything that is planted in it, suffocating and choking and stunting it”. Possibly the only other picture of death being culminated on the sides of the Ganges was given by Saratchandra Chattopadhyay in ‘Abhagir Swargo’-a short story that most Bengalis are well acquainted with. And how Adiga repeatedly makes the reference of this black river to portray the rotten corruption of the nation is to be read to be believed.

The characters in the story are equally familiar yet vaguely unfamiliar to us-the sleepy, corrupt schoolmaster, the women of the family-quarrelling–money-loving, the drivers of the rich, the rich, the rags to riches story-by ‘massaging the feet’ of others or by allowing others to ‘dip their beak’ into you, and the corrupt politicians-you will find the entire zoo for sure.

And if you want the true blue description of the electoral practice on the ‘vote daan festival’ in the biggest democracy in the world-again this is the book for you.

My warning again-don’t expect a huge enlightenment from this book. This book just tells us the way India is-and has been-now whether it changes in the long run-with the help of, well, us actually, remains to be seen.

As for me, the book has done its bit-Balram Halwai is now one of my heroes-for quite some time to come.
Kudos to the Man Booker committee, if ever an Indian author deserved a Booker, it was for books like this!

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IMT ki Kahaani,Zango Ki Zubani

No birthday today? Did none of those 700 Bhasadi-s land on God’s bony earth this day?And they think only their markets are down these days! Got to focus on my core competency then in these turbulent times:Save and savour-it pays to have a fixed deposit you know-the re engineered hole at the J block basement-Shh!Don’t tell Dingo, the black humbug is always after other’s prized possessions-but this hole houses my week long built up inventory,3 uncracked eggs that the Bhasadi-s failed to crack on the head of the hapless Bum-boy,2 leg pieces of tandoori from kavi nagar that I managed to set aside during one of their bashes, and to top it all-one broken shard of blender’s pride-to round of the festivities J

He who must not be named

Boy was it difficult to build up this inventory!And add to it the strange things that these Bhasadi-s do once they have a drop of these Blender’s pride-s or Smirnoff-s down their throats.The other day, I was swiftly shifting one near-untouched leg piece to my safe haven, when the ever lusty Dingo came with teeth all-snarled and barking at the top of his voice-I gave it back in double measure-until-Oh Boy! Do I shiver even talking about it! There were the two of us-ready to pounce-barking as loud as we could, the prized leg piece lying in middle, when this Blender’s Proud Bhasadi jumped right in between and, I swear in the name of God’s bony earth, yelled and barked 10 times harder at both of us. Even more shocking were the other Bhasadis-egging him on: ”Go Fuddu Go!!” chicken leg jayen bhad mein,we aren’t like our feline brothers, to be blessed with 8 more lives-we both beat the retreat, tails firmly between our legs, even before you could say Zango. Dared not look back to see whether the bhasadi actually ate the piece after our ignominious exit.

 

That brings me to think-how hard my life in IMT is.These Bhasadi-s believe they are having a hard time in their lives-what with all these scorching summers’ heat and their sleek lappy-s recently facing the constipated feeling of ‘blocked’ websites added to the usual rush for their classes.Ha!Look at us!After every meal that they have, no matter how cutely I look at them, and wag my posterior extension, they won’t go further than a pat on the back of the head-when will they learn their marketing and stop selling?Give me what I need, give me the damn ice cream/samosa/aloo paratha/chicken burger that you have in your other non-patting hand and save your pat for Dingo(may be give him some of your Bumday bums?)

The other sad story is the false hope these bhasadi-s give me of a luxurious life.They opened some store, at the J lobby basement, the name nearly brought tears to my eyes,needz-i felt,finally,finally,they learnt their basics and will make a difference to their loyal, canine companion’s life.I walked in, rather had a sneak peak, and alas!Instead of the leg pieces and blenders they had soaps, cream and what not.I lost my faith on these needz evengelists-the only time they looked at me with some interest was during their blood donation campaign when their bhasadi counterparts didn’t turn up in satisfactory numbers-luckily,i seemed not to have fit their bill, or,else this story might not have seen light of the day.

Add to that all these diwali time flies that just add to my woes.As if the army of IMT wasps/flies were not enough, zillions of these irritating flies are really getting under my fur. And then there is this so-called sensitised IMTian,who again gives so much of hope through his promising one liner of itching me every night-I have waited with wagging tails outside every other hostel, no sign of him/her, this sensitised fellow is really insensitive indeed-promising so much and not showing up at all.

The worst part of the story is that I simply can’t leave this place. No matter how determined I become to leave it, someone in some room, sings those lines which I so helplessly like:”IMT Aao!”-One batch goes, a new one arrives, the middle one PDP-s them, and they become a part of the campus. I have seen it all-whether it is in a term,quiz, summers, finals or bum bashing parties, every bhasadi has his day-some time or the otherJAnd I live to find another leg piece-to pray for another bumday party-no yelling bhasadi-but one bite of chicken and a bit of Blenders and..

 

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Independant Weekend

India Poised-2008

They say India is poised to take on the world-in more ways than one.I believe it needs to take on the enemy within first,and the picture above,taken during the PM’s I-Day speech at the Red Fort epitomises my feelings.

Rarely would we be tempted to look at Dark knights and webby heroes if all our army men were given gears like this-and they say the entire purpose of having SPG-s like the one shown in the pic above was to engage the terrorists,in case of an attack,for quite some time.Cute,eh?

We cannot possibly run away from this reality-being on our toes when all hell is on the verge of breaking loose in this country is an every day mantra.This is a survival instinct one needs to nurture to see the day come to a fruitful closure.

What exactly prompted me to portray such a gloomy,fearful picture of the nation on the I-day?i guess the forlorn campus,with nearly all the students gone back home,played its part.also the typeracer application that i just activated in my orkut account has given me the extra impetus to type that much more and speak that much less.may be,as always,this was another cute attempt to gyan giving and also may be cos i wanted to write this.period.

Some wise man once said,that at the end of the day,one should try and analyse what did he do make himself better off than the previuos day.easy enough?tougher to implement-like most words of wise men actually.let me analyse my day.

I shaved.that left me better looking(hopefully) than yesterday.

I wore a rakhi(didi posted it 4m cal)-that made me feel a better bro. than yesterday.weird!

I played Typeracer on orkut.I am certifed to have a writing speed of 50 WPM as of now,which puts me in second position in my orkut friend list.some achievement that!i didn’t know yesterday i was going to be second in something such.That definitely does make me feel better.

I came across this picture-i wrote this piece-it leaves me feeling honest nd lighter inside.

hmm..sometimes,not always,wise men do speak sense.

i rest my case.for today,that is.

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Proud 2 b a JARC!

let’s get a bit personal here.

The feeling is yet to sink in:i got through to ALCOM,or rather i’m now officially a JARC(no other connotation,it stands for junior alumni relationship committee). the motley batch is an eclectic mix of lazy bums with some eccentricity or the other.it does feel even better to have found two other fellow calcutta bumchums,viz. mrinal and mr.arjun BUTTra,err.. batra,in the same committee.that reminds me,the fellow calcuttans had a full blown liquor bonanza(gentleman version of daru party) at our expenses yesterday nite.

as also,last week i also had the first ever quiz for me at IMT,and what a wonderful debut it was,managed to win the contest with an awesome pardner in karanjot of marketing batch B3-pocketing a cool chillar of 190 bucks each-not bad for a regular weekly quiz event!

it’s been a whirlwind in more ways than one over the past 3 weeks.the earlier post might have been indication enough,but throw in IPL marketing strategy contests and mark-roadie events,and write ups in addition to the ever increasing burden of class notes,assignments,quizzes-and there you’ve it,the perfect concoction 2 squeeze every bit of your sleep away for good.

so what?one might say,this is the regular B-School grind.yep,yep i agree.but the overriding realisation is the fact that you are going to experience this two years only once in your life-that just gives you the extra push to scamper along-that extra mileage to participate in that one more event,to dot that i and cross that t more carefully in the assignment,to not miss out any chance to pull the leg of a batchmate,to aim perfectly bang in the centre while giving your CR birthday bums at midnight in the amphitheatre…to..

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IMT Aao…

it sounds funny,i was about to write the first post on my beloved B-School,when i came across this wonderfully objective post by my batchmate Mrinal in his blog.

i put it here for two reasons.firstly,the clarity of thought-to pack it all in such a small post.secondly,to show that all 400 plus of us felt the exact same thing over this past week.never knew i could do with so little sleep,never knew i wud be coming down a three storey building in 30 seconds flat during my outbound training.and same holds true for all of us.

more to come.keep watching!

 

 

http://hidden-voices.blogspot.com/2008/06/imt-calling.html

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NOMAD: Srikrishna Nayak

I saw him earlier. When he was in that other batch…and I noticed him for the first time when he stepped into our classroom on that batch swapping day..here was Mr. Sri Krishna Nayak..better known as Krishna, to some..nd nomad to himself.he likes to call himself such,and deep inside,I too do believe that it’s the closest one can get to the perfect nickname.lemme make an unsuccessful attempt to xplain exactly why..

Krishna that day chose to sit beside me in class,or rather was it me asking to sit there..dunno..but it so happened that 2 pardners had met that day..they didn’t realize,wonder if they still have,just how incredible their synergy is..but something connected from that very instant.a common dislike for the rules(which in any case was there in all of us batchmates,but in this case this was all the more pronounced),a common artistic bent  of mind,a common love for literature and a good ear for music,and the love for anything that remotely sounded like fun or quizzing!

It wasn’t one of those “two buddies from the very 1^st instant” stories..far from it..i remember my disastrous attempts to extract info about one of his college mates who had,well kinda caught my eyes during ILP to say the least,..with Krishna simply telling me,tu galat banda ko poonch raha hain re,tu priyank ya sunil se poonch..

Two incidents come back sharply in mind’s focus,I remember the shirt swapping incident in one of the classes.he had come to office one day with blue stains all over his shirt,saying ye kamwali bai ne pyar se kar diya..then a brainwave,how abt changing the shirt 4 the rest of d day?300 seconds and a trip to the nearest washroom later,we were there,with grins as wide as the English channel,and more importantly the feeling of satisfaction inside of having done something that made us happy and gave us something that we didn’t understand then..neither do we now..

That same day.sometime later,it was announced that Krishna had come into our lab group-hmm,that meant the first person whom I had wanted in the group for an entirely different set of reasons was in another group,but little did it matter…for I didn’t quite understand why was I so happy to have this guy who had nearly just shaved his head off in my group..a huge tight jhappi later,we were onto our first group task,and arguably that was the last,for I sincerely believe whatever we did,or rather did subsequently in the following days,didn’t qualify in the remotest way as a group task.however, that desert survival task that day told me a few things about the newest member in my close-to-heart club..here was someone the like of whom I had never ever come across,and I can gurandamntee,neither will in the years too.

He analysed the tasks in a unique way that only he can.and as luck wud hav it,that day I was given the task to observe the action and behavior pattern of my team mates..all the more opportunity 4 me to learn abt Krishna-the phenomenon.i found out that he has this amazing amiable,calm overpowering power in him that he simply doesn’t wana make use of,and still the ones around him feel so deeply.i felt so proud in a strange way,to be associated with him,as a friend?i didn’t know then,and neither do I wana know..but again some relationships needn’t be defined..that’s exactly why,on being asked to define his activities I was at quite a loss,and said something like awefully awesome creativityJI think that’s an apt description of nomad alright..and oh,by the way ours was the best group that dayJ

Now comes the project part..for heaven’s sake,I am not going to write about the implementation of the project for sure.but I remember the first few days..he simply didn’t  take any interest in the project activities,apart from trying to get his java basics right alongwith pardner..he sat separately..tried to inspire/convince pardner to do the same,nd when he found pardner was upto no good..decided to semi let go his own effort and also have his own attempt at the project single handedly..those were the days..

Krishna kept on trying to convince the 3 other “techies” that his solution was a good shot..and at times trying to rectify the errors in the ctrl c ctrl v job of the other 3 techiesJwe simply didn’t see any hope at the end of the road for krishna’s ‘too simplistic’ solution.on the other hand,it seemed a seemingly complicated decorated,but in reality a crappy and useless no-result as we would realize later, solution was all the more attractive to us.the truth didn’t dawn on us till 3 days before submission deadline that our attempt was doomed..and then he said those words:ghabrao mat,main kisika extension nehi hone dunga..

Till this day,he swears that he didn’t work harder till he saw my gloomy,frightened look that evening on thinking that I might have to undergo a glorious PIP.and I will never ever forget the only swear word that he has ever used against me by taking my parents name..following the fierce look on his face on finding out that I had,once again,clumsily made a mistake in trying to do a deployment of his program.in that split second his behavior told me a thousand things-that how fierce a friend he is,and what won’t he do to not let his close ones down.he came down alone during the weekend 2 office..and even as we were happiest to see the program that he had put up all by himself to get the  project up nd running,he wasn’t satisfied,the kamina had even taken care to put the subtlest of validations in the project..and he left the presentation part to his pardner…hoping I am sure..that at least itna toh kar hi lega:D

Now lemme mention why I am not taking the names of the other 2 members in our group,this piece concerns two pardners,period.

Okay, d-day arriveth.mademoiselle sapna cometh..grp 7 jumping with joy to show off the cute project that ‘they’(now that’s called multiplicity) had put up..and then…MAGIC!      

The very same project that had run so wonderfully..simply refused to run!that can be the only explanation for the non techie in me..and I will never ever forget the look on krishna’s face..his toil,to put it mildly to save our a**es,all going haywire cos of some bugger glitch..nd sapna,the quintessential nitpicker-cum-*******(give rein to ur violent imagination)-finding it irresistible to not find faults with the design..with the code..with the coding practice..and other things that this non techie doesn’t know about.

He bit his lip trying not to interrupt the tirade of hers,just to let us go unharmed..and that was it…as I look back,I wonder,wud it hav made any difference if sapna had given us star marks and lauded us profusely?did he care?wud he ever hav cared?if I don’t have THIS answer,then one thing is for sure-moa not his pardnerJ

Tee shirt time-he coined those now famous lines…48…and once again depicted his aesthetic thoughtful bent of mind. there is something deeply melancholic about the ways of this homosapien species-i dunno why am i writing this last line,but something justr forces me to-something about the nature of the person.

Lemme just jumble this up a bit..and bring a few more old memories back,anagrams..departed title song..youtube..his wanting to hit that southie faculty who refused to give us permission to conduct the quiz at peepul park-sutta..your buying the head first for each of us,exchanging your phone with oh-no-no or dupli as u wud like to call him..doc..the way she taught u to be tough after she had flunked  the stream test..hmm…enugh,da?

Last day at tvm-he comes down in the aruvi bus,holds me and ananyo on either side of him to deepen the sorrow,meets us in our room,helps me pack,rather packs it entirely by himself,inspite of the fact that his own train is at least 4 hours earlier than our flight.then repeats that he has finished packing-and that it wont harm if he had dinner with us..only to let us know during that last ‘bye’ that he hadn’t packed a thingy..that’s nomad for you,ain’t it?

As for that dinner together..i have never ever found food so difficult to swallow..it was just incredible..the weight building up inside..and the sight of him getting up in that auto..he hates it I know,when I write these kinda lines..cos as much as he loves to drive these nostalgic unforgettable moments away,the closer I sweep them back into remembrance..i can’t help it pardner,this rewind button does make me happyJ

And then he calls back,5 mnts later..15 mnts later..40 mnts..4m inside the train..relieving us of the tension that he indeed is going bak home…home?did I say?the story had just begun buddies..

Chennai-new plans for a joint startup..with me as the owner..or the marketer,he won’t mind either..the reasons for the first being,he believes I am one of the few ppl he wud like to work for,not with(I prefer the latter,any day)..the second cos he believes I am actually good at something..saboon bechna kindaJ..i read his blog..and his analysis of his mates..and it made me wish if I cud ever write like him.he was really lonely in kochi,I cud make that out,for he had actually ‘watched’ sawaariyaJand did he hate it every time I wanted to tell him to put the phone down after he had called me for the last half..umm..one..umm…whateva hours..

pardner comes 2 kolkata-krishna changeth..less sutta..more control over finances(he claims so)..which leads to his spending on his latest crush..his miniature version of God,”Avenger 200”-the 2 wheeler he so loves.nearly(umm..that’s a high estimation) going near bankrupt in the process,but fully getting happy,he now rides it to glory..as only he can..

I normally DO NOT spare any weak/soft aspect of any of the persons that I write about in my blog,but this particular aspect of this nomadic homo sapien does call for special treatment-this guy is deeply in love..yes buddies,that’s why he is so wonderful a being-for here is someone who I truly believe does justice to his feelings for that special someone..and as for who exactly is that special someone,as they say,no further questions-I rest my case.period.

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