Its that time of the year when ask a bengali if he would like to spend a week in Switzerland in place of his hometown, and most likely …. The order would be declined.

Nothing beats hopping pandals in durga puja!

Little did I know how this day would unroll.

( – - follows below the chronological listing of how things happened – - )

1. I was walking in the footpath when I saw a bike racing through breaking the red light
2. In the next moment it came to a screeching halt about 5 cms from two girls crossing the road
3. Their physical appearances were like hoodlums. They were two boys with the one at the back carrying two rugsacks full of some commodity.
4. They started shouting at the girls, without any molestation intent. The angry conversation was more rude and menacing.
5. The small 30 sec brawl seemed to have ended when the girls started to cross the road
6. The Driver of the bike shouts at the girls saying that ‘Jitni Angrezi Hai, Sab nikal dunga’
7. All this while I stood approximately 5 meters away and watched. The girls ignored the comment and crossed the road.
8. I then came over and told the boys, ‘You’ve made a mistake, now move on’. I introduced the word ‘salon’ to address them.
9. They shouted back, something like who the heck are you to interfere in our affairs.
10. All this while a traffic policeman was standing 20 meters to my left and watching this. It was obvious he did not want to get involved in this mess.
11. I called the policeman over and told them what they were doing. I also pointed out that they must have broken at least 3 laws including jumping traffic lights, driving without helmet and rash and negligent driving.
12. He asked them for their license and registration of the bike. The driver had neither.
13. The pillion rider got off the back and went running to the nearby small illegal temple. He called over the owner of the bike.
14. The traffic policeman walked us both to checkpoint with a lot of traffic policemen about 50 meters ahead. They were testing people for alcohol consumption.
15. While walking the boy told me that I can stand in Dwarka and talk to him like that. If I ever walked into his locality, Madhu Vihar, he would not let me go.
16. I narrated the entire story to the policemen. They said that they cannot book this guy as this had become a street feud and hence the concerned police station must be informed.
17. They asked me to decide, if they should call the police or simply fine him for driving without helmet and license and let go.
18. Meanwhile the owner of the bike took his mobile phone and tried to make a call. I saw his flash on his mobile camera go off three times. I realized, he had just taken my photo.
19. I called out to the traffic policeman there and told him that he had taken my photo. He fiddled whit his phone for about 20 seconds and then kept saying that his flash goes off whenever his phone is ringing.
20. I took his phone from him and saw that the camera switch was on the side, a single press version
21. The phone was a Nokia X6 which is a very expensive phone. When I looked at a wallpaper a very ‘fair and highly sophisticated lady’s photo was there.
22. I did not realize then that the phone was probably stolen.
23. Meanwhile the traffic policemen suggested that we call the station police.
24. I told the policeman, I was feeling threatened. I took snaps of the Bike Driver and the Bike owner on my mobile.
25. I took a brief look at their phone and did not have time to look deep. The boy kept saying that the flash goes off whenever the phone is ringing. He said if I wanted I could check his gallery. I saw the top photos of his gallery at a glance of maybe 2-3 secs. It did not have my photos.
26. I realized, my searching in their gallery is useless particularly as they were asking me to and the boy had chance to move or delete them.
27. I took snaps of the Bike Driver and the Bike owner on my mobile.
28. I then told them that I have taken their snap and have emailed them to my parents (which I had not done yet), and so if anything were to happen to me, my family would know.
29. I stood there thinking of my options. Meanwhile the owner of the temple a lady in her 40s came over along with another chap. They started pleading using emotional lines. I remained firm that a small apology would not do and they must be penalized
30. After trying to persuade me for over 30 mins, they began to start losing their cool. They finally started to talk rudely saying that this was being done only because they were poor and helpless
31. Meanwhile a bystander who seemed like a gentleman stepped in. He was carrying groceries in one hand. He described himself as a captain (defence) who stayed in the adjacent apartment.
32. He heard the entire story again from me and the boy. The boy by now was not defending himself and kept saying he was sorry. The captain explained to the boy, that if I book the boy, he would for allpractical purposes end up spending a large part of his next few days in jail.
33. Captain then took me aside and explained that he knew the law and if I chose to file an official complaint then the boys life would be lost. He said the other alternative is that the traffic police fine this boy heavily and I do not file an official complaint.
34. After a lot of thought I agreed that it was indeed not advisable to waste someone’s life
35. I hence asked the traffic police to fine these people to the maximum extent. The traffic policeman then said that he cannot fine the boy driving the vehicle without impounding him and booking him as he did not have a license
36. The captain asked me to take a call and said that he would be with me as another responsible citizen. He said if I needed to go to the police station, he would accompany me as well.
37. I agreed to this. I went and told the policeman that I was okay with this. He was not in agreement. He said if tomorrow something bad were who would take the blame. I said that I would not pass the responsibility to these traffic policemen if these people were to physically harm me.
38. I asked Captain for his business card, he said he was not carrying it with him. I got suspicious that he may not be as good as it seems. He even gave me his mobile number. I called it once from my cell and saw that his mobile was ringing. He was carrying an expensive PDA, probably Samsung Galaxy Tab. His number is : ************. He said that I needed to add a zero to his number. I later checked at his home that this was a Mumbai Number.
39. Captain then discussed with the traffic policeman. They decided that they would register the complaint in the name of the bike owner. I agreed mentioning very clearly hat I would not sign on this as a witness as this was untruthful.
40. The traffic policeman filled in the chalan. I told the captain, he should put in his name as witness as I would not sign this. The traffic policeman took both my name and his name along with our numbers as witness numbers.
41. I went off trying to ask another mobile-beat policeman, manning the barricades, if I should really call the police. He advised that I would be better off, as these guys had threatened me. He advised that report this and if required do not press charges. He however said that he was not pressurizing me.
42. I agreed thinking that this would be a wise thing to do.
43. He went ahead, took my name and mobile number and called the police station
44. Meanwhile I called up home and asked my parents on what to do. My father advised me that at NO CONDITION should I file any sort of report.
45. My father came down and discussed with the mobile-beat policeman that he did not want me to press charges.
46. The policeman said that we would have to talk to the police officers who came down as they were already on their way.
47. My father advised me to take his car (he had come down in his car) and go straight home.
48. I did as advised. He then called and asked me to switch off my mobile phone.
49. Later when father came home he told that the police had arrived and wanted us to book a case.
50. When my father said that its nothing worth listing and he would not like to list the case, they said then what would happen to their time and effort.
51. My father said that their effort would not go on waste as the boys would be terrified since these police had come and would not repeat this kind of activity.
52. The police officer asked my father for his address and mobile number. My father politely refused so that we would not be harassed unnecessarily.
53. The Police officer then asked my father to leave as there was no point of continuing the discussion. My father politely thanked them for being there for common citizens and left.

In retrospect I realize what would have probably happened thereafter.

• The concerned officers would have taken sufficient money from the boys and their fraternity to not book them under several charges which they could book them in (some which would not require a witness)
• Had I agreed to list a complaint, this amount might have gone up ten folds.

I was half expecting these cops to call me and ask me to file a complaint. If not at least come over to police station several times, or harass me enough. I had my phone switched off, so that no one could reach me. But as I have missed call alert, I can see no one has called yet.

Tomorrow is a crucial day, and I intend to pick no phone call, which does not show a number. I am glad I did make the call to my dad, a bit embarrassed that I chickened out at the 11^th hour but proud nevertheless that I chose to stand there and fought for what seemed like eternity on my clock and about 100 mins on the mechanical clocks.

Attaching the photos of the driver and the owner of the bike, just in case (JUST IN CASE!!) someone needs this to push and find those who ‘harmed’ the jolly fat boy on an evening walk who chose to stand up!

As a movie Shukno Lanka has uncharacteristic complexity, reminding me of the Ray and his works. Each telling multiple stories through the subterfuge little nuances say the inexplicable acerbity of lawyers, the simplicity and happiness of adivasis and the intuition and love of a lady in the movie Agantuk; Lets keep this for some other time.

Shukno Lanka is like the proverbial onion with many layers of themes capsuled in the life of an “extraordinarily ordinary” movie ‘extra’ Chinu Nandy, played by our ex-disco dancer Mithunda; the life of the dry red chilli (which is what shukno lanka roughly translates to). Something which is very much a commodity in Bengali kitchens, with little to no differentiation (one from other), shriveled, deformed, not the sumptuous rich green looks of its younger counterpart but still packing quite a punch; something which is the foundations of a good ‘tadka’.

The movie talks of how someone who lives a pedantry life as a Rs. 250 per day daily wage paid support actor or one of the ‘extras’ could protect his dream and talent from daily scars of insult and humiliation. It tells the tale of how the neighborhood boys are the only one who want to really see him act, how his loving wife (played wonderfully by Angana Basu) has little to complain and as little to desire as a cup of tea while taking a mid-night ‘tanga ride’ through the city and how the daily rigmarole and hardships only embalm and soothen the pain that the self-believed capability to excel in acting would remain just that … self belief.

In contrast is the life of a critically acclaimed, international award winning director Joy Sundar Sen (Sabyasachi Chakraborty) who lives the reclusive life committed to his passion of quality movie making, something which have never done (or for that matter never will do) well at the box-office. Someone for whom commitments could only be towards art and work, much has his wife struggles isolation and neglect. The warmth in the marriage is long replaced by a civility which borders cruelty, reminding us of the heavy price of such creative eccentricity as Joy Sundar.

There are other side (under-the-skin) tales, one involving the warmth and respect and platonic (debatable!) relation between Joy Sundar and a successful Australian actress; One which talks of the almost militant ‘grounded’ and yet highly self-respecting personality of Chinu Nandy juxtaposed against the arrogance and individuality of the maverick genius, Joy Sundar. Another which talks of the self-indulgent lifestyles of the mainstay film heroes and their idiosyncrasies. And another which talks about the regimentation of the ‘elite’ and their self-created belief of being exclusive in generating ‘high quality’ work, when Chinu is repeated reminded (not so much in words) but in actions and warms of him being at the end of the day a Junior Actor by Joy Sundar Sen, which Chinu finally revolts against. Finally the love story of the old and un-shapely (they are ‘aesthetically challenged’, middle age, middle class, low educated) couple of Chinu Nandy with his wife, the love which comes from being considerate and facing the rigmaroles of life which tends to wear out the hope and optimism from the best of us.

Mithun Chakrabarty as Joy Sundar Sen is remarkable. So is his wife, played by Angana Basu (an unheard of name in the movie industry). The music is soul-stirring and meaningful. The script and cinematography are bang on spot.

This is absolutely Satyajit Ray marterial. My recommendation to all who read is then, MUST Watch (even if that means you bribe me with a popcorn & soda to translate the Bengali into whatever language you understand!)

True it will be a befitting end to the tyrannous rule of the Left so much that all that is left in Bengal is little of educated skilled labor, some fertile land, lots of uneducated farmers who have been seasoned to being the subject of the state’s undemanding and benevolent welfare system which emphasizes on rights and skips duties. All I would fear that lest it not be out of the frying pan and into the fire. Just as Red Bastion was turning atinge more blue, Buddha had managed to get the buy-in from the likes of Nirupam Sen on the need to reawaken the spirit of enterprise and virtues of hardwork … and thankfully Jyoti Basu is finally dead (touchwood!) comes the screaming and banner hoisting hooligans of Mamta busy to show their influence, even if that means weeding out the tender saplings of industrial growth planted. For the same reasoning (and the belief on collective wisdom being immune to seasonal irrationalities; something which is questionable) I will rejoice if Mamta gets re-elected on her second term.

Coming back to Bihar, I am tempted to call this state flooded with emotions. And not without ample reason.

1. Indians gave a thumbs down to the BJP government after the India Shining campaign, even as Vajpayee had managed to pull off a remarkable Golden Quadrilateral, Dedicated Freight Corridors and given Indians a new hope. All for waht, beacuse some Indians were too jealous to accept that they (as per their assessment) had been left out of the growth story.
2. Bill Clinton on his first India vist had pushed a very crucial thought. You cannot make progress and be happy if your neighbor is in distress. Its just not socially stable state and would invariably give rise to sparks and disturbances. Bihar has for long been in abysmal state of affairs. Its socio-economic indicators like health, education and Factors of productivity like GDP/GNP has been at the Nadir. All of this as the talented Biharis had to move out to find appropriate jobs and bear not only the taunts of the North Indian but the cuts and bruises from the Marathi Manoos.
3. It shows the emergence of the quiet but unmistakably confident electorate in the Indian Democracy. One who is able to see through the showmanship of gaudy politicians; their hysterics of ‘Secularism’, the cry for cast driven agendas (Yadav, Dalit, Bhoomihar, Jat, Gujjar … ) and the fascination with the pedigree.

Youv’e got to hand it to them: The Indian Electorate. Afterall, Rahul Gandhi got his ‘footfalls’ but not their votes!

The fastidious ‘eye on the detail’ and penchant for picketing on typographical and presentation errors like formatting, fonts, colors, bulleting etc. is something which plagues me at my workplace too. Here Subbarao talks on how his endowment for this ‘nuisance’ is a matter of pure legacy of that great institution, a matter of heredity which is cherished all the same if I may so add!

Subbarao manages to sound convincing and almost pulls it off which is not surprising considering he is one of the smartest people in one of the smartest institutions of our country, the Reserve Bank.

Although someone as curious as me would still want to ask that considering that perfection always comes at a cost (and agreeably that’s a real High Cost!) would the time and effort spent on making official documents/memos and publications free of such irritants and imperfections not be better spent fine tuning our economic and monetary policies. Even an iota of incremental improvement would have such a multiplier impact on the lives of the subjects!

Coming back to the case of the “Professional Services” business, one wonders is what truly makes it professional? Is it the perfection in form or is it near absolute appropriateness of solutioning / recommendations coupled with the unquestionable integrity and incorrigible (and one may add irreprehensible) obsession with not fine tuning bitter pills to make them more palatable to those-who-must-not-be-named. Or is it both?

If Both then what would be the priority amongst:
[pertinent recommendations, unquestionable integrity, expertise & competence over subject, perfection in presentation of outcome report]

The answers may be easy to arrive at, the process to think through far more arduous! But then the Zen saying always goes as the Journey is the reward!

This milestone may not bring back too many jubilant memories to me, but that would be no mean feat considering that I have managed to pay off my educational loan, survive two years of relentless pestering by my parents to get married (and be done with!) and hive off a few pounds here and there & get in much better physical shape; something that was on the agenda almost since time immemorial.

But now the priorities are clear. The mid-life crisis seems to have seeped in already. Choices are far and wide, and rest assured the present state should not persist in future. Wondering whether to set forth my Ph.D in Strategy or go for a second MBA or even do something as esoteric on finally taking the plunge on the entrepreneurial waters!

I think I’ll discipline myself to start writing something every now and then once again, even if the quantum of each write-up is pretty small.

Incidentally visited Mumbai and Bangalore the last month. Mumbai was on work and I put up in a rather non-descript hotel band in the hustle-bustle of Bandra(West). For what it was worth loved the fact that the city stays awake till wee hours of the morning. The relentless pursuit of work-happiness-life is commendable and so is the professionalism of the people in the city. Sadly what soured it up is the Delhi-bashing hobby that most Mumbai’kars would indulge in as soon as they learnt that’s where I belonged to. Beats me, especially considering that Delhi is after-all the only city which does not align itself with any community/state/language in the whole of country and even with all its ills people land up in Delhi because of their need for it and not vice versa! Bangalore was a day trip over the weekend. Caught up with an old buddy and got home a few kilos of “Mysore Pak” a sweet which I came to admire so much during my stay at Hyderabad.

I have meanwhile also become a proud owner of a rather spacious and well located apartment in Delhi along with a voluminous mortgage which came bundled with it. To say that the whole concept of being in debt to an extent that your whole worth would need to be decupled (i.e. ten folded) and yet fall short (significantly!) to meet the dues is scary, would be an understatement. Eitherway, now I’ve taken the plunge. This would put on hold most of plans of purchasing a nice car or mindless squandering on eateries and any of the so insidiously enticing and yet obviously senseless stuff! With the first EMI just about due the lessons learnt during Financial Management course in MBA came floating back with PS telling us how debt brings in with it fiscal discipline and coupled with the tax benefits afforded when taken for house purchase make it an unbeatable offering for the logically minded. Also reminded me of the golden words of my mom that irrespective how high you may be in corporate ladder, purchase of a house which is fit for staying would inevitable necessitate some serious tightening of belt!

Something else has changed around me. My father just bid adieu to a long and illustrious career as an honest and respected public servant as he superannuated yesterday. Thankfully, the one thing that had embarrassed me the most about him when I studied in one of the more garish schools of Delhi (him being too earthily, nonchalant and simple) has stood him in good stead as he retires with a truckload of friends and well-wishers. A reminder to me that soon, not too long in future, I too will have to call it a day as far as professional career is concerned. Time is too short to be squandered in pointless dilly-dallying as I try to negotiate a better remuneration to justify something which is not true to my heart.

Professionally, I will have to strive to find my niche! This is a serious goal for future. On Personal front, I’d like to meet up with someone special to spend the rest of my life with as well. Too many noble goals. Too much of not-so-noble temptation around. The fun is about to begin.

Wish me Luck!

Take a guess try naming examples of change. The ones which come to the top of my mind when asked to state change in life would be

1. Infant – toddler – teen – youth – Old change, i.e. evolution in the circle of life
2. Day-night and winter – summer cyclical changes
3. Astonishment – Acceptance –Embracement reaction

But those are not the only layers in life which get reformed and reshaped or changed! Like an Onion, we could keep skinning peels out of life and at every layer change would be the common factor. The examples above are only epidermal in organism’s endowment of change

People change: Our beliefs, our perceptions, our values, our ability to judge/perceive/appreciate changes. Everything changes. It was not one sporadic event or incident which made me ponder on this aspect but a larger kaleidoscope of observations. Some things which made me think on these aspects (I have tried to keep each one of the below mentioned ass unconnected to others as possible):

• Empowering/Prophetic Stones: My family met with a serious road accident last year about this time. Thankfully the injuries were not very serious with my father getting a fracture in his leg and an injury on his shoulder (muscular injury). The impact on the psyche however had us changed dramatically. For first time in my life my father started showing an inkling of interest towards astrology and destiny. He was never an atheist, with a sound and unshakable belief in the Almighty. However that belief was not ridden with the ritualistic fervors and beliefs. Now, he used to not but slightly shrug when some distant cousin of mine talked of wearing yet another stone to ward off the ‘bad-time’.
• Summers and Summer Vacations: Summers used to mean more than searing heat for me. Like most of the salaried people who have made New Delhi their homes, the rising mercury used to be good news. For Summer Vacations were around the corner. This meant 2 months of not catching the school omnibus, cricket at midday and early evenings and the best of the lot the yearly escapade to relatives. Summer Holiday trips were without question synonymous with visiting Uncles, Aunties and Cousins at Kolkata and adjoining towns. I remember how enthusiastic we used to be in the onward train journey, with the heat of the second class (non AC) compartment failing to dampen our spirits (The prickly-heat irritations that used to cover us within a few days of landing up though came pretty close at achieving this!). And as expected how utterly crest-fallen, sad and egregious we were on our way back to Delhi. The state-of-affairs now is a complete contrast. Invariably, Delhi is where home is and home-town means comfort. No matter where I land-up, a couple of days down the line I would start ending up feeling home-sick. Whether it was listening to the incessant gibberish at the numerous FM channels or getting irritated at the rowdy cars driving in a garish and outrageous manner with ear-splitting Punjabi numbers blaring from their cheap car stereos. Though, over the time I have also become lesser impressed by the rambunctious Punjabi culture that surely overtures Delhi.
• The Idiot Box and books: Television was always a luxury for us as kids. Despite the fact that the colony cable-operator used to live next door and offered to provide us with a feed of cable television without any extra cost, my father ensured that the only TV Channels which got my and my brothers viewership were the state run channels by Doordarshan (National Channel and Delhi Channel). As I moved to Engineering College the love for cable-television, American Sit-coms and the Hollywood potboilers only grew stronger. My visits to my uncle’s house just a couple of mins. away from my hostel were generously accentuated with spiffs of watching HBO/Star World. Somewhere between then and my two years at Hyderabad where I was working and dilly-dallying with my preparations for further studies, the Idiot Box outgrew me. I for some obscure reason lost interest in it completely. Its been close to six years now and not much has changed. I can hardly stay affixed in front of a TV screen for more than 15-20 mins. My interest in Music and my reading habits strengthened at its cost. Not surprisingly, these days I have a plethora of reading materials including magazines, newspapers and bestsellers which get my due attention with cornucopia of music in my iPod keeping me company all the way! (By now, I have purchased 3 IPods, each of which painfully with my accumulated savings and each having been used enough to recover its cost two folds!)
• Haute couture and Lifestyles: Not very long time back, having a Maruti 800 (which was an Indianized version of Suzuki Alto) was a thing to be proud of. It was de-throned by the MAruti 100, then by Esteem, Cielo, Honda City, Safari … and by now we have already moved into the fab world of the tristars, rollers and the beemers. Its not just the salaries which have gone up but the whole concept of income as being disposable and for buying a better present than for preserving a secure future (though the both need not be exclusive). The other day I was surprised how casually my brother talked about dining out at Hard Rock Café though it was a ‘bit’ on the pricier side. The ‘bit’ in this case referred to a per head bill of about Rs. 1000 – 1200 without alcohol! I can still remember how comfortably a small family of 4 (2+2) could doine in at sher-e-punjab dhaba at Kalkaji (which is at southern part of Delhi) for 80 – 100 Rs(and this included roti, dal, curry & Tandoori chicken!). Even my memories of Hyderabad only take me ass far as 200-300 Rs. Per head. I am not too sure how well we earn when we factor in the cost of the new lifestyle in place. Albeit, one thing has changed, it’s the acceptability that the propensity of spending hard earned dough on uber-luxuries does not constitute irrational exuberance.
• Circle of Life: If a Nobel was to be awarded for the chanting of universal truth to younger ones, then my Dad ought to get it for reminding us how time flies by! In a few more days my dad would be turning a new chapter in his life as he would be retiring as an Executive Director in an Oil & Gas company. A grim reminder of the circle of life. How we are born and ultimate we will expire. My dad used to tell me at bed, before I managed to master the art of fake snoring how one fine day he got the news that his father and my grandfather had expired. How despite the inevitability of this happening sooner or later, it came as a bolt from the blue for him and how one day even I would be facing the same myself. My father’s retiring is a reminder that the circle of life is indeed turning silently but inconspicuously. Some day sooner or later my Mom and Dad would be gone. I would no longer be living the carefree life I do with scant regards for the acceptable conduct and a brat’ish attitude at home. I would then have to think before I shout and scream irrationally as I do now cause my wife would not be my Mom (Irrespective of how much my mom threatens, I know she can never throw me out or leave me stranded!) and similarly I could not get away with fetching my dad a glass of cold water in the morning after behaving rudely and irrationally with him in the previous night. Soon, I will have to grow-up!

I could really get into the swing of this pointless gibberish. But the moral of the story is very clear & concise: Change is Overpowering and Unavoidable.

Ending with those lovely words of Jean-Louis “Jack” Kerouac,

All of Life is a Foreign Country!

Keep thinking that I am very different from the unknown man who is turning a corner of the street right bout now in the opposite end of earth when the reality is quite otherwise.

For instance I am just as much fad driven. Loved blogging. Still kindda like it, at least when I am doing it on my IPhone. Lately though it’s obviously loosing out to tweeting:

It’s easier, quicker, crisper and way more pragmatic.

Something as idealistic like grammar or building a case before the conclusion is arrived at is nether facilitated nor permitted.

Suits me just as fine, though leads to a gradual corrosion of my writing skills acquired painfully through my high school years.

Anyways, this iPhone typpng is finally taking it’s toll. Will catch up soon, meanwhile am there on my twitter tweets

So with thy permission, fast forwarding to the present day which is where I am and the action is. Got back on line in a step-by-step mode as I opened my twitter account, not that I knew much of it but then it was something seriously in and self-professed technophiles like me could ignore it much at their own peril. So got it installed found the best media to use it with which would be twitterfox (in firefox) and twittle in my Nokia E63. Have been twitting on it ever since whether it is from inside metro en-route to a party or on office transport while heading home. It’s some serious fun, believe me! Much more so when you might wonder what’s the small-insignificant happenings in all your friends lives much as you try to make sense into the same at your end, In case you haven’t tried it out, do give it a shot.

Bought a couple of books, which I had been planning to read up since those MBA Days. These include (but are not exhaustively include) Liar’s Poker, Money Business, Barbarians at the Gate, Fooled by Randomness, Random Walk Down the Wall Street, Made in America, Tipping Point & Freakonomics. I presume I would have covered about 15% on an average of each book before switching to the next more interesting fad I’d managed to catch up.

There are these lots of stuff which I seriously intend on doing, somehow I can never myself to do them but one at a time. These include getting myself back to shape which means reducing some serious flab, regenerating the insatiable appetite for reading good material, gearing up on major happenings and keeping abreast with the turmoil in the modern boardrooms (after-all this is what comprises ‘core competency’ of MBA junkies!), hitch-hiking around the world getting to know this strange planer and the stranger people who reside in it a wee bit better, getting to re-discover my favorite city (New Delhi) and getting to know it as much as I have got to know places like Kolkata, Calicut and Hyderabad etc. to name just a few.

Here is my work-in-progress list. Have begun on the health front and thankfully I’ve made some progress on that front, become a regular reader of NYTimes and WSJ (at the cost of being almost oblivious to the home grown dailies), been trying out new and interesting stuff in Delhi thanks in no small measure to Time-Out magazine and Eicher City Map (both of which are I believe overpriced. Try Google Maps on I-phone/Nokia E-series for a better value deal), got the motivation finally on to get to make some friends in the fairer sex (Why do we keep calling them Fairer? Are we being racist or is it just that admission of being incredibly unfair as some men are!).

I’ve also been catching up with some really lovely old songs taught to us by Mr. Brown, Music teacher at Don Bosco School (Alaknanda) as a part of the School Band. Thank Goodness for YouTube that these are now within ready access for any music aficionado (and at THE price Indians are willing to pay for access to classics … ZILCH!). The title for this post is one such number. ‘And I love a Rainy Night‘ is a lovely all time great country song which brought back the memories of the Don Bosco School Band of which I was a proud member and the competitions and expeditions that we took part in.

Funny that some things in life which we start of thinking as secondary or barely as the paraphernalia to the crux later turn out to be the most cherished and prized of all memories that encompass that period.

Ending with the earnest belief of Ben Okri, Our future is greater than our past!

When I finally got to writing this blog, it was surprising what all I could write about. Term 5 had been really eventful in terms of learning and take-away. Term 6 had been interluded by lateral placement processes, Backwaters 2008 (our Annual Fest), Alumni meet and Sangram
2008 (IIM K Vs. IIM B Sports meet). Thus, it had by far been the most happening non-academically and least happening academically. The placement interviews and the overall processes were a very interesting affair in itself and do warrant a dedicated post too. By the end of the processes I had three offers one a project finance role in a large corporate, a consulting profile and a front end trading in derivatives with a prop trading firm. I was again made aware of the inherent risk-neutral to bordering risk-averse nature of my personality when I gave the highly lucrative derivative trading profile a go for a more secured career in consulting. The foreign exchange students this year were an interesting bunch, but they ended up faring pretty much miserably when it came to examinations. A stark reminder of the academic rigor in the IIMs, something which is not the case for most global MBA programs. (An IIM term on an average spans 3 months with an average of 7 subjects whereas most US B-Schools have term of 5 month duration with 4 subjects. The course content and curricula of each individual subject is almost identical both in terms of breadth and depth of coverage and the assignment load)

Stepping back for a while and looking at the ‘big picture’ sort of thinking all these trivialities matter less than two cents. Matter of fact remains that it’s been quite an achievement from the dismal 7^th ranker among 50 students in my section with 70% marks in my early schooling to complete engineering in computer science from a premier institution and finally graduate from an IIM. The first time I stepped into the 80s was in grade VII and I had duly celebrated that by watching the first movie in a cinema hall. I still remember very clearly it was Terminator 2 and me, my brother, my uncle and my father had gone to ‘Priya‘ in Vasant Vihar, the popular up-market cinema hall at that time in Delhi. Most of my peers were toppers in their batch with a grade point average between 90 & 100%. Most of my peers are doing quite well and most have met with varying levels of successes, which bear no co-relation to their schooling grades or rankings. The fact that I was not built by nature to be a ‘Natural Winner‘ in everything I did hit pretty early and might I say, it hit pretty hard. I was the average student in class with a below average performance in sports. The only silver-lining was that I was immensely and insatiably inquisitive and with very little of a filler between my thoughts and my words. What I thought, That I spoke! And just to be fair to the Creator, had a better than average baritone.

Its really quite futile to try and comprehend the factors behind this because lots of times there is an intrinsic randomness (Refer: Fooled by Randomness by Nassim Nicholaus Taleb) or entropy in environment around us which throws the best plans into a disarray and what we are left with is scanty pieces of an otherwise perfect piecemeal plan. However, one thing can be safely deduced even in this robust stochastically non-deterministic system, the dots truly seem to connect much as Steve Jobs said in his famous Stanford Graduation speech. The idea can be explained as follows. Just like when solving a puzzle in which the objective is to draw a route map connecting a rabbit to the carrot through an array if complex intermingling routes, its always necessary to keep an eye on the carrot and then try and work our way through various combinations of routes to reach it, similarly while making way through various uncertainties both of means and outcomes one should never lose touch of the central objective or the primary motive of the game. Of course, the attempts at trying to rework alternatives at any stage of the process should never cede i.e. one should never give up and accept defeat. Over the entire span, one thing led to another; quite often the fate that my plans for future met was something like ‘I proposed & God disposed‘! However after lots of twisting and turning, the rabbit finally reached the carrot and here I am writing this blog largely content over an MBA degree which I relished earning.

On a largely incongruent note, I came to know a few days back that one of my classmates in school committed suicide jumping from the 7^th storey of his office building. Much as I wanted I could not feel sad or sorry for him and this I am really uncomfortable to admit. This boy had been the quintessential mean SOB in school. Unfailingly condescending, taunting and poking sorts. One who never missed an opportunity to demean or humiliate and make others feel miserable. His winning streak however met with a rude shock when I jostled him out of his position in high school graduation. But more importantly, he never really made many friends in school. Most his companions were as self-centered and mean as he himself and hence loosely fitted the definition of ‘fair weather friends‘ at best. Sadly enough, this apparently had not changed in the past 9 years of our disconnect. I find it unethical to be sympathetic to such undeserving candidates for sympathy, after all its very little that nice guys can look up to these days and I can’t deem it fit to cast aside what truly belongs to them on such unbecoming subjects.

Was eagerly wishing that get to see my campus one last time in full bloom and glory before I take leave from it. For that to happen it must rain generously. Let me get into a wee bit more of prelude. IIM K is on the most picturesque location of all IIMs posted right on top of three hills and a valley in between (We literally have Hill #1 for academic campus and Hill #2 for residence purposes). Atypical to ‘God’s Own country‘ its all lush with green trees. Palm, coconut, mango and what not. These are lavishly garnished by multitude of layers of flora and fauna. The campus has been designed with a keen aesthetic view. But all this looks best when they are watered plentifully and naturally. Rains do that trick, washing out the old and bringing in the freshness back. By quirk of fate (or environmental climatic changes as some would say) it suddenly rained today. This is the most untoward time to rain, its usually hot and uncomfortable this time of the year. The rains brought back that aroma of moist soil, the scenic beauty came flooding back all over and today as I opened my balcony doors whiff came the clouds into my room whispering into my ears. It truly was surreal. All the spectacular beauty that we got so used to in the past few years came flooding back.

Couldn’t help feel sad that my campus will not be mine for not too long anymore. But what the heck, K shall always remain my IIM. I will belong to K and K shall belong to me!

Would end with a conscious effort on my part to be regular again on my blog. Till then, so long!