An Eveningful of Contemplations

The Election Results

2009-05-23T16:23:00.005+05:30

Sneak peek at an 'eminent historian' viewpoint of the the election results. To be taken with a pinch of salt ;).

"The Indian electorate has once again confirmed the constraints of a bourgeois democracy and its remarkable susceptibility to capitalist conspiracy. It has voted and it is a vote against social equality, against women's liberation, a vote that brings us brushing close to the prospect of American Slavery. The only saving grace is also a vote against fascism.

The biggest setback from this vote is to the rise of an inclusive social reality in India particularly in the northern states. Messiahs of the lower castes, warriors for the poor, and advocates for their rights find themselves defeated on the flimsy issues of governance. In the past 50 years of independence, these are the states that have seen a rise in the status of poor masses and their liberation from the hands of the feudalists and the capitalists. And for the first time, we also have a parameter to help us measure this rise - the combined net worth of the leaders and their families. Where else, but in a socially conscious state can leaders of the lower castes grow this rich, while throwing a boot on the capitalist face. We can use this measure to confidently say, that if efficient allocation of capital leads to growth, efficient distribution of a cut on the capital leads to inclusive growth.

In a fitting reply to the critics, and a proof of good governance most of the free-market fundamentalists have shut shop in this part of the country. Governance should not be growth that roughshods on a section of society but inclusive growth that enriches our measurable parameter. Governance should not focus on moronic restraints like fiscal discipline but be more clearly defined, like the number of times, the word 'comrade' is uttered. It was the responsibility of the people to elect those of our comrades, who like their forbears in the Great Soviet Civilization could direct the nature of this growth. But the people failed.

Governance, is also something that should keep in mind national interest, the national interest of China. This government, unshackled and dictatorial, may be very much on its way to give India a say in the world affairs, something which would not be in the national interest (of China of course).

This vote has also negated all the progress the nation had made in improving the condition of half of its lot - the deprived women of India. It was said that the future of the country is in the hands of the three ladies. And yet, rudely ignoring all the sophisticated psephologists, two of the ladies have seen their power remarkably curtailed. The most frightening loss of perceived power was of Behenji. She had the vision to imagine a makeover for Tajmahal - making it accessible to the common man and not to forget, woman. It was she who, as our comrades in the media report, built, like Mandela's rainbow coalition, a party of Dalits and Brahmins. It was she, who with her lavish birthday parties and her cronies extorting 'donations' for the party turned the male-dominated world upside down. Yet, what do such progressive views get ?

The only gains from this elections have been the distancing from power, of the proponents of that juggernaut of the most imposing and divisive religion in history. They, horrors of horrors, attempted to distort the sacred truth of history books. Theirs was a government that encouraged regressive policies and acts like FRMB Act and Electricity Act. While reducing the government control on infrastructure, they also frittered away legacy businesses of the Government. Some say the companies were loss making, but then, you don't sell family silver because it requires polishing.

While fascism has been stopped in its tracks one can only hope that the bourgeois democracy would not endanger India's social progress. Otherwise, as they say, a people deserve the government they elect."

All of our children will be President of the United States

2009-02-14T20:15:00.004+05:30

"Doctor, we've taIked about a good many things...but there's one thing we haven't talked about. Have you given any thought to the problems your children will have?"

"Yes, and they'll have some.And we'll have the children. Otherwise, you couldn't call it a marriage."

"Is that the way Joey feels?"

"She feels that all of our children will be president of the United States (Italics mine)... and they'll all have
colorful administrations. (pause)Well, you made her, Mr. Drayton. I just met her in Hawall."

"But how do you feel about that problem?

"Well, frankIy, I think your daughter is a bit optimistic. (laughs) I'd settle for secretary of state.(Italics mine)"

The year is 1967.
The movie, "Guess Who's Coming to Dinner Today".
The conversation was between Spencer Tracy and Sidney Poiter.
The topic is the future of children from a mixed race marriage.
The couple met at Hawaii.

The year is 2009.
Barack Obama: First 'Black' President of the United States.
Son of a Kenyan father and American mother.
The couple met at Hawaii in 1959.

Times do change in a lifetime I guess. :)

(Already commented upon by a lot of people, but just escaped my eye before this. http://www.nytimes.com/2008/11/02/opinion/02rich.html)

Cold Feet

2008-05-17T02:06:00.007+05:30

'Everyone should make at least one. I am sure you will enjoy it.' My landlord sounds encouraging. It starts almost as a joke.

'The snow seems good. Its been there the whole day. We can almost make a snowman.'
'Not interested yaar.' My roommate muttered.

'The snow really is perfect for a snowman you know. But it will melt by the evening.' That was where my landlord comes in. Again, 'There's lots of shoveled snow outside.' And then finally, 'Here is the carrot for the nose. And here are the eyes. You can make one on the porch'.

There i a snowstorm, as I like calling it, the night I from Toronto. White powder falling from the sky. I trace my footsteps from the bus stop, watching them disappear, reappear. An ephemeral coat. A flake settles on my fingertips, melting away. I hold my tongue out and feel a few drops from the black freezer up in the sky. The yellow streetlights faintly the streets, reflected by the white. It does not seem night. It does not seem day. People, many of them are not happy with it. I am in the seventh heaven. 'It's getting worse'. I just smile and trundle along, watching the white hooded cars, the empty sagging seats at the bus-stop and the drains bemoaning their uselessness. Sometimes sinking beyond the invisible boundary of the sidewalk. But that was the day before.

The next day the kids on TV make snow animals. I wait inside, watching. And then it hits me. I have never made a snow man, ever. The decade old attempts at Rohtang were stillborn. With feet after tourist feet mutilating the virgin snow, it had turned into ice, tired, resistant and intractable. It had met the ultimate fate of all snow in India. Now is the opportunity. Hey, even the kids on TV have done it !

My landlord considered it almost a crime, a deprived childhood, one that had never seen a snowman. She made sure I march out armed with carved carrots, round onions, marginal enthusiasm and Calvinistic ambitions. The porch seems too public. What if someone sees me. The sole kid on the street has built a castle. Guarded by a plastic owl and a white dog which disappears into the walls.

My creation will have to stand guard at the backyard, where wandering deer venture in sometimes from the dundas wildlife reserve. Cautious steps, wooden ones, almost at level now take me down the backyard. The same backyard which welcomes all seasons, green in summer, yellow, orange and dark red in autumn and a dry white in winter. The floor is covered with a thick carpet of grass and green wall of shrub both of which feed the deer. It also hides the squirrels, big black ones which enter the house if the window is left open, to try their hand at everything from cupboards to boxes to trash. My landlord always thinks it is the work of raccoons. Now the green carpet is white.

Down, in the land of squirrels, deer, raccoons, shrubs, I glance around. A guy next door is practicing snowboarding. Down the slope, then up. Towards netherland again. He did not fall. I am disappointed. I scoop up a small heap of snow. Then stare at it. The winter cut through my leather gloves. Should I make two balls, one over the other like they draw in the cartoon strips? But it is no longer powder. The top layer had met the sun and melted brittle, stiff. The heap refuses to roll into a ball. It assumes the shape of a pyramid instead. This is going to be one big fat snowman with an over sized winter coat. I roll over another smaller ball for the head. It comes out oval, like a rugby ball instead of a football. The kids on tv had worked hard ! It is not as simple as it looked, I realized as I see the gruesome figure. It needs some hands now.

The shrub is not ready to come off and I am adamant. Slowly it gives way. The roots remain underground. Two branches in my hands, I stumble backwards. Towards the newly transformed birdbath-to-bird-ice-rink. Besides it were two pots, waiting for plants without soil. Not empty. Filled with powder. I see bright potential for a hat.

The sticks stand out like outstretched ghost palms begging for solace. The carrots and onions take places carefully carved out. I overturn one pot. There is an oval mound on the step. It is already non-powder. Hasty palm pressure made sure nothing came of it. Powder does not stay its own way for long. The falling snow forces that below it into ice. When it stops, the layer on top melts ever so slightly, coalescing. Snow cannot flow away. It collects, forming mountains everywhere. Smoke burns water. Black walls form on both sides of the sidewalk. The melting ice is slippery, so the roads and footpaths are salted. Every now and then, someone slips. But they need to reach home, to shovel all the snow out. In the fall you shovel leaves, and then snow which follows the leaves like a family of duck. Quacking away at your misery. Virgin beauty to monster madam.

I tried out the second pot. Another mound. But only a little bit of carving. The brittleness at the bottom is hidden. I place it on the head but it does not stand still. So I flatten the head out, thumping it, cutting the brains. Then make it top heavy. The snow has melted through my shoes. My capped head, squint eyed, begging hand man lacks shoes, I realize. I conjure up boots. One is large, another is a sad case of elephant legs. I walk back to the house, semi satisfied.

Next morning, as I wake up, the sun hazes into the room. Snow melts. Top heavy structures melt further. My snowman stands in the backyard. Hatless. Headless.

Kolkata Chronicled

2008-05-07T20:05:00.008+05:30

'Taxi?', a fellow with a moustache and stubble enquires. As a rule, all such language is representative of taxi drivers scouting for passengers. The surprise here was, there was only one. No pack of hounds closing in on doomed prey. Calcutta looked hopeful.

The yellow ambassador taxicabs are an intrinsic part of the city landscape. The same way a black premier padmini is of Mumbai, a multicolored vikram is of lucknow and the yellow painted red seat shikara is of Shrinagar. Coming through the bypass via Salt Lake City, you see large tracts of green but in development land screaming from both sides. A site few cities can boast of. (The only comparison I could think of was Hyderabad with it's million year old rock strewn landscape.) The road is lined with Coconut trees. Something which stands out, especially when your airplane circles the city forgetting the fact that it was supposed to land.

As the car weaves through the narrow bylanes and the constantly overhead flyover, it feels like Lower Parel. Old dusty buildings, sundry people crossing roads and a jumble of cars maneouvering under flyovers. Buildings, ancient and creaking, dot the roads, lanes and bylanes, interspersed rarely with the modern. Sometimes, a jarring half-renovation leaves behind a comical (architectural) juxtaposition that escapes classification. Multi-storey relics of a bygone era also stand witness, watching the city sprawl outwards. Things which perhaps gives Kolkata an old world charm not present most places.

Malls and roads are not wide, accentuating traffic and plaguing parking. Branded outlets, while international inside, carry the look of a suburban market, when driving through. Between cars of all variety, two wheelers and helmets resembling miner's hats stand out. The boards everywhere are in English, the same way as in Mumbai, Delhi or Hyderabad. In fact more than Hyderabad, which denotes that it is a cosmopolitan city.

Chat stands, kulfi and the ubiquitous kwality walls cyclewalahs declare their presence with a crowd of connossieurs waiting to catch a bite. An assortment of cars wait by the sidewalk for a dip of the puchka and a bite of the chila. The especially enticing mango kulfi (it was kulfi literally in a mango) is a street delicacy not to be missed.

While in the city, it is impossible to miss the Havda brigde. Without any pillars, with an awe-inspiring view of the Hoogly, a broad promenade and pleasantly vibrating side-railings, it offers multiple opportunities for photographs. Primitive jute mills and red brick paint-peeled buidlings stand in wilful harmony with the red railway station. Boats float arcross the horizon and cars drive over the Rabindra Setu. The imaginatively named 'New Havda' bridge with private vehicles, lesser traffic, toll booths and sidewalk-less road stands in a wired contrast to its pillarless all-men-are-equal ancient neighbour. As the car approaches visible distance, you recall photo-albums of all your relatives who ever went to the Golden Gate. 'New Havda' however, is protected from the ravings of capitalist tourism. With a police fine.

People travel across the river. On jetties. 3 rupees each - that is the minimum fare for lazing across the hoogly on a white blue boat chugging smoke. Boys, perhaps employed by the transport, jump across from port to river to boat and the other way round. The Hoogly flows on - in slow sluggish currents buried under its own expanse, letting wooden boats float gently and be guided by the oars. The lights of eden shimmer on and gongs of the prayer to kali drift with the mellowing day.

A railway line runs near the havda. Ring rails. Empty rails. Rails also run in the city centre. Comfortably ensconced in northern calcutta, the trams of chitpur and bada bazaar welcome you into the arms of old calcutta. The change is gradual. The roads get narrower, the buildings dirtier, the traffic thins as the crowds bulge and then you even see the hand-rickshaws. In the land of equals, man rides on man, unconcerned. This is the Calcutta you see in the movies.

A tram follows my taxi. However, there is only one lane and no space to park. So it follows us for quite some time, trumbling on and humming a horn whenever we stop for directions. The road names mark all addresses. Perhaps a vestige of British planning, addresses in Calcutta are the preserve of streets, like the west. (e.g. in Calcutta you live on Russel Street, in Mumbai you live at Parel) Very few area names, fewer landmarks. Road names in Mumbai confuse, landmarks in Calcutta do so. The autorickshaw driver takes in five people - with a security rod near the driver's seat, so he does not fall out.

Vast tracts of gardens, especially near the Eden do not surprise you. They follow you right from the Victoria Memorial, a white mansioned, ancient-gardened Victoria Memorial. Protected by the Marble lions gruaring the gates, you can see the people walking, exercising. You can also see an orange beaked bird. I could not figure out its name. The sprawling gardens with grandfather trees, a throned queen with a pigeon piss crown and calm reflecting pools where ducks eat fish attract all kinds of tourists.

The memorial houses a history of India. A musuem. They story of class divisions, surprisingly, does not overwhelm the picture. Hidden vignettes can be found in the numerous life stories scripted (like a Britisher who died a troubled death advocating rights for the natives). Ancient portraits (the son of Tipu Sultan painted by a European, Siraj-ud-daula looking pretty foreign in a furred cap) and amazing landscapes ('A rock-cut temple on Salsette island' - my guess are the Kanheri Caves, Kashmir, Kanyakumari, Gujrat) from across India at the turn of the 18th century present a picture of history pickled, preserved.

Coming back to the parks, the land outside is marked with stalls and with horse-carts driven by half starved ponies. Ponies which graze in the parks under tall trees, yellow flowers. a searing sun and noon criket. As you near the eden, the parks turn into parking lots, especially on a day of the IPL. Parking for cars with stickers, blue, green, red, pink - multicoloured privileges of getting closer to the grounds. The grounds of full. As many people throng in to see the cricket as to see Shahrukh Khan. The pitch is slow and the white cheerleaders seem to be the only interesting thing around - the calcutta crowd shouts anyway, unfluttered with the dangers of moral turpitude. Even Shahrukh escapes the obligatory dance routine. Bored, the flash lights refuse to work. Nothing shimmers on the Hoogly.

Buses in Calcutta are small and cheap like all public transport. Glorified vans. They leave you at the landmarks, the streets, the street market of Chowringee with the un-named old building that features mandatorily in all tourist guidebooks. It also leaves you near the metro, as the crowds move to the underground. The metro seems small especially if you have experienced Delhi. The stations however, are lined with art like all good metros whould be. It is crowded but not crowded enough to evolve its own chaotic structure unlike the suburban railway of Mumbai. The city is sweaty, smelly, tasty, crowded and red. It is also a sightful. And something you cannot easily forget.

Over !

2008-03-14T23:29:00.002+05:30

It feels strange. Not the same feeling all over again. Gone is the sense of relief. Gone with it is also the feeling of familiarity. 2 years. At the risk of sounding cliched, I would say they passed pretty quickly. Not quickly like a speeding ferrari, but quickly like a mumbai local. The one which involves a lot of effort in getting in. One which is crowded with experiences, a whirlwind in minutes. The last day of classes felt a bit awkward. There, that went the last lecture in a proper classroom. It was as if you have completed the sentence. Full stop. A feeling that the paragraph of life has changed. But the book was still the same.

I did not feel out of place when I left for a short vacation. But now, its different. I already feel as a stranger. The words are already past tense, the jokes nostalgic, the sights count memories, the sounds number moments. Any and all attempts at normalcy are stillborn. The breakfast does not feel the same. Nor does the tea. It has changed. Or I have changed. Perhaps the times have changed. It almost feels like an alumni meet. The questions today are markedly different. The whys and the hows have been replaced by the wheres and the whens. And this is what marks the final goodbye. A goodbye which already happened, when no one was looking. Its time now, to start a new book.

If only every competition email could be like this...

2007-12-05T08:20:00.000+05:30

Firefox was getting jittery. Nothing fiery or foxy. Rather like a LazyBuffalow. Anyways, checked out the morning and the emails. Just for a change, read one of the many competition mails which land up in the inbox everyday. (Perhaps I will detail these 'competitions' some other day). The mail was inviting entries for Treatise at IIM Lucknow 2008. And for a massively shocking change, found it entertaining.

'So if you think you can shape India’s future, then all you need to do is to register at our website before 17th December, 2007 and submit your initial plan before 19th December, 2007.'

It had a kind of 'to change the world buy our toothpaste' kind of feel to it. If it was intentional, it was masterful. If unintentional, then I would love to read every mail of these guys :D

Yukon Ho! - I

2007-09-26T10:04:00.000+05:30

(Let me be clear at the outset that I have not visited Yukon and don't plan to. It's just too cold and I have not intentions of bearing a chill, sneezing my heart out and running around protecting my existence from wild animals. But this is a Calvinistic Fantasy and, absent any alliterative Canadian inspirations, makes for a great title....)

It was pitch dark and the she was serving some food. I had lost all sense of day and night. It was always day outside. A day of clouds beneath my feet. Some of them pretty literally. The Brussels sky was covered with clouds, white sheets. The giant wings of the A380 partly shut of the view from the glass-covered window.

It felt great when I finally landed, after 20 hours, 4 meals and an endless day travelling with an entire Punjabi village. The Pearson International airport was gigantic. Beyond my dreams. We came down the elevators, walking across Shilpa Shetty, Sameera Reddy, Shekhar Kapoor, Satish Kaushik, Tanuja Chandra and god knows who else. It felt good that I never ever saw them in Mumbai and no one knows them in Canada. So there were no impromptu stampedes or special arrangements. I tried the wireless but it was paid, same as in Brussels. After spending a few nostalgic moments remembering socialist India with free wi-fi; our feet and a few directions from a helpful counter-lady took us to the ground floor towards the groundways transit. A free transit had been arranged towards McMaster University.

We were going to stay in Hamilton, often called the 'Steel City' or the 'armpit of Canada' if you want to be particularly uncharitable. The groundways transit clerk mispronounced our names . It was the first time but not, unfortunately, not the last. The driver of the car was pretty friendly, he tried some jokes. That was the first time I realized the meaning of culture. All attempts at conversation were doomed to an eerie I-don't-understand-what-the-hell-are-you-saying hell. He did not get our accent and we did not get his jokes. At the end however, he got one message across, there are no good strip clubs in Hamilton.

As we got around from Toronto to Hamilton, one thing started becoming clear. The Canadians might lack some people and some warm climate but they had land to throw away. Right through the window of your car. As we drove past vast tracks of trees, parking lots, wide two storey behemoths of Supply Chain corporations, big discount stores and still bigger parking lots, this fact was continuously rubbed in.

As we entered Hamilton, I felt happy that most Canadians have not visited Mumbai. If this was called the armpit, Mumbai would be designated by an more anatomically colourful term. The houses were dreamlike. They were individual and sloping roof, indicating it rained here. The cottages with parking lots, porches, clean roads and little chimneys looked right out of a movie. I was difficult to shake off the feeling that I am in a real country. As we arrived, the rains did too. Not the torrential Mumbai rains. It was similar to the light Lucknowi showers. The landlady was not home and we waited on the porch. So that was my arrival in Canada; Lucknowi showers, maple trees, clean roads, careful drivers, movie studio like student houses and two wet bags on the front porch.

Plagiarizing Professors and Pirating Populations - I

2007-08-04T23:26:00.000+05:30

(Disclaimer: The incidents described below are liberal mix of fiction with personal experience. Its a kind of based on a true story where the gaps in the story have been filled in with liberal dramatizations. Any coincidences with reality are, of course, purely intentional.)

Scene 1: May 2, 1999

S****** F****** was typing fast late in the light. The New Salem lights were dim outside. He had to submit his assignment in a few minutes and he had not even looked at the figures. Even if he had looked, he had precious little time to figure out anything.

The case-analysis was of the legendary 'Netscape's IPO'. Unlike the usual Harvard cases that start with a tensed executive staring philosophically out of the window, this one came straight to the point. Netscape wanted to get an IPO out. They had never made any money. All other sources of finance were dry. They decided to approach the stock markets. And dotcom gold diggers on wall street wanted the stock more badly than ever......

So, the question was what should be the price of a Netscape share. It primarily highlighted the difficulties faced in valuing a company where you know next to nothing about the company or the industry's future.

'God, thank you for creating excel with the drag and copy feature for the formulae', he thought as he put in his assignment for the day. For a 10 minute job, the excel could not have been better. However, it lacked any fundamental correlations with reality. A sane mind, with one reading of the case, could do no more than keeping hitting the delete button in frustration - hopelessly trying to eliminate all memory of the horrible effort.

Perhaps the professor will not actually verify the figures. Perhaps no one will look at the excel sheet. After all, you could have justified everything......

Scene 2: Between May 2, 1999 and June 4, 2007

Professor J****** W***** was sitting in his office gazing philosophically at the boston snow outside, imagining himself as the hero of a Harvard case study. An imperceptible sigh escaped his breath as he found himself battered with the meetings of the day. The case at the edge of the table caught his glance.

'Why did Netscape have to come out with that IPO. More so, why did they actually think someone could value it. Perhaps they wanted to enhance your number juggling skills......... does it really matter? Enough people can take care of these trifles without me wasting time over it.'

In another room, the screen of the TA jingled with a 'you have got mail' sign. The TA had actually recieved two mails. The first one confirming his evening out and the second one from the professor.

'What does that slave-driver want now? Another one of those stupid assignments with reams of excels and arbitrary powerpoints.'

As he gave a long look to the six pages of IPO pricing difficulties, it dawned on him that he would have to cancel that date. But perhaps there was some hope. The irony was not lost on him as he plugged on his netscape to search 'previous opinions' on the case. And he hit paydirt......... F*******.xls . A whole excel, with the the numbers crunched and digested. It looked a bit rough on the edges but any checking would only waste time.

Virtually anything under the sun could be written and argued for. Who's gonna read it anyway!

CTRL C and CTRL V with a little know-how of IPO underpricing, make for a good 4 slide ppt and a saved date.

Scene 3: August 3, 2007

'Triskaidekaphobia!' - exclaimed the t-shirt in and around Hostel 13 at II* L******. The grounds outside smelled of the fresh Lucknowi showers. A host of bugs pursued the incandescent lamps everywhere, mistaking them for the moon.

In one room of that hostel, a group of 5 students was pondering over the future of the cement industry. At least trying to, in the sultry dampness of a rainy monsoon.

Suddenly, another one torpedoed into the sage meeting, oblivious to all serenity. He was obviously excited.

I got a google. It's done by a professor. Some J*** W****. I don't think we need to check it.

The relief in the voice was palpable. It amounted to saving one more hour. They really needed that, if not for themselves, then for the cement industry. But all of them were not equally ethically challenged.

Abey excel toh bana le! (At least make the excel!)

The chiding remark ricocheted of the room walls. An eerie silence prevailed. Ethical uncertainity and the cement industry, the devil and the black sea - the choices were not very pleasing.

I have read the case. I have practically followed netscape from then on to its present avatar as FF. You can make an argument for any price. Change the growth rates here, the discount rates there and you can have a figure from 15-50. It's not worth spending any time over...

But the argument was not pervasive.

Then it's even better! The excel will not take more than 10 minutes.

The new entrant was tired, defeated. He retreated. He might as well as confirm the numbers with the case. He picked up the case and started checking the excel sheet. And then, he saw what S******* F****** thought no one will.

WTF!!

The story would have ended here, but it did not.

Scene 4: August 4, 2007

'WTF!!'

Expletives are not the most common words one mouths in class. But today was a groundbreaking day. A day which shook beliefs and reaffirmed the worst fears. A day which answered, 'Yes, the sky is breaking down and its gonna fall on you' and 'Yes, everyone is out to get you'.

It had all started with yesterday's announcement in class.

He's gone mad!

People will not read even one!

How will he complete it in 75 minutes ?

These were some of the sentences being bandied around the previous day. The voices were as incredulous as they were distressed. Some bright soul of a professor, going around by the name of A*** G***, had decided to give Harvard a run for its money.

Harvard pioneered the case study method. We will now teach them how to F*** Forward with case discussions.

These were his thoughts. OR perhaps he had an essential faith in their collective incompetency, which prompted the projection that there will be no discussion. There was no other reason why a sane individual would assume that 4 cases can be analyzed and discussed in a 75 minute class. The cases were small, but pretty complex in themselves, as in no one could precisely pinpoint even the issues involved. How do you predict for example, what valuation was correct for Netscape?

The group from Hostel 13 were sitting in the class with the new, modified, corrected and embellished solution. All thoughts concentrated on Netscape now. It was not perfect but was as near perfect as the group could take it.

Group * , can you make the presentation

The feeling of relief was as deep as it was imperceptible on all faces except of Group *. They had been called on to deliver judgment.

Dot com companies.. Business Model... IPO pricing.. blah.. blah

The torpodoing retreater of hostel 13 was sitting in this class. A sudden smile passed his lips as he saw the xls. He could not believe it. Yes, it was modified. It was clean of all mistakes. But the assumptions. They were unmistakably close. Others had done the same thing he had tried to attempt in his hostel, he mused. Hail Google! The source of one. The source of all. A patina of relief masked his face as Group * ended and A*** G*** started speaking.

Hopefully, a sane solution. Let's hope we get to learn here.

The mouse pointer moved towards the file. He could hear the click when it was selected and opened. The bits moved from the cpu to the projector at approximately the speed of light. From there to 70 pairs of eyes, they moved at the speed of light. The ones and the zeros arranged themselves to form a comprehensible display of numbers on screen. The optic nerve raced through with the numbers to the frontal cortex. The temporal lobe accessed the decidedly short term memory. As the excel sheet opened, his face lost all colour.

WTF!!

That was not the only or even the first expletive brought in by the excel sheet. This xls, the one the professor had brought to class was not even modified or corrected. It took time to sink in.

Ye bhi! (Him too !)

Hurried glances were exchanged throughout the class. Everyone knew what was wrong. They had spent the whole day trying to correct it!

And then the class attacked. If S***** F****** would have known 70 pairs of eyes were gonna go into a deepdive analysis of his excel, perhaps he would have been careful with the drag and drop. Or perhaps, J*** W****'s TA would have missed his date if he had witnessed the slaughter. The prof had not expected anyone to actually read the case. The tension was reflected in the beads of sweat on his face. The humiliation was evident as the case was dismissed hurriedly to be looked on at later (meaning never). He wondered, perhaps like all criminals do, when caught red-handed.

How do they know!

As the class exchanged smiles, they understood the unspoken fact. Everyone knew. Everyone read. Everyone googled.

(Some links which might be of interest:

http://www.wfu.edu/~palmitar/Law&Valuation/Papers/1999/FREITAS.XLS

http://www.wfu.edu/~palmitar/Law&Valuation/Papers/1999/freitas.html

http://web.cba.neu.edu/~jwelch/PPT/Netscape%20IPO.ppt

)

Who created Valentine's Day ?

2007-06-16T02:22:00.000+05:30

It was the last year at school. And it was Feb 14. Pretty awful. I passed out into phases of immense chagrin when I heard of friendship day, valentine's day, mother's day, father's day, doctor's day, engineer's day, poodle day, alarm-clock-that-never-rings day broken-needle-eye-with-unpassable-thread day....It was the one of those days that day. Hell! It was one of those days everyday now! It was difficult to find a normal Sunday or Monday in the calendar. And its not specifically easy to remember 365 different day names.

The class yesterday was not quite as interesting as I wanted it to be. The prof was saying something about exchange rates and then something about Tony Blair. Tony Blair has no currency left... That was about the only thing my mixed up mind could make out.

Why? Why is this happening ? Get me the old calendar back. Whole worlds of emotions were being compressed and done away with on single days. Wanna say thanks to your mother. Wish her on Mother's Day! That's it! You have done your job. You are a great son to have, she will surely tell herself. Why is this happening?

Tony Blair surely had enough money. He must have got that for the article he wrote in the economist. The prof was appreciating it for the third time now. I hope the economist did not pay profs...

How are people able to remember all of these days. Who was the brilliant (and masochistic) enough to inflict this pain on humanity. The world was going beyond my miniscule IQ, when I suddenly hit upon it.. It was not that great, but in school days, I really thought I did make a discovery and it made a lot of sense.

I saw a handout nearby. An interview of Anil Moolchandani. Someone was obviously sleeping in the marketing class. It was an interesting interview. Always listen to your customers, was the age-old marketing or rather business mantra I remembered. Can it be true the opposite way ?

I would gleefully go around asking people,

"Who created Valentine's Day ?'

An nonplussed answer would often be "St. Valentine", "The western world", "A pair of queasy lovers","A pair of queasy lovers with lots of spare time", "A pair of queasy lovers with lots of spare cash", "Who cares!"...... and so on.

Can a business shape consumers. Perhaps yes. Perhaps no. No sociologist today can deny the the impact of marketing on modern consumerist societies. Give the consumer what he wants.. or perhaps you can even tell him what he wants. I proceeded to a specific question in the interview...

Perhaps one answer was close.. however, I would soon delightfully scream "You are wrong! Guess what ? It's Archie's and Hallmark!" (Yes I know I turned cynical pretty early on. No need to rub it in!)

How are you planning to achieve the vision you have set for the Company?
We would like to be what we are - the leader for years to come. We will be responsible for creating occasions, so that people will find a reason to greet each other and keep in touch.

I would receive an amused smile and would smile in return. We lived in the marketer's world.

Mr Anil Moolchandani, Chairman-cum-Managing Director, Archies Ltd... I smiled as I remembered the last year of school..

A sense of deja vu...

2007-01-21T17:51:00.000+05:30

The morning came with the afternoon sun. At 11.00 am almost, with my neighbour waking me up. 'I think you had a talk to attend, Ajit Balakrishnan.' Looked at the watch and realized the benefits of being battle-ready for such eventualities. Sleeping with your jeans on and having a pack of mint nearby can crunch the 'getting-ready' time to less than five minutes.

The talk was not worth a miss. Came with a quite a few doubts about the future of Indian BPO. But that calls for a separate post altogether. This post is about something else. It's about the possibilities that an Indian mind is ready to explore, sometimes with not the most honourable of intentions. Anyway, as I entered my room and picked up the toothbrush, my eyes lazed away to the day's anchor in TOI.

The lazed glance quickly metamorphosized into paper-grabbing interest. Hazy memories of recent times fought their way up, cutting through a mindful of wasteful thoughts.

"These coins are so heavy, you could make a profit if you just sell the steel!" I could remember my father's comment, though neither he nor anyone else quite accepted it as a practical business proposition. And whaddya know! Someone really turned into a business proposition. This is one cost of inflation I have never found in any macroeconomics textbooks. Of governments losing money by actually making it!A fine example of entrepreneurship if there ever was one. Of making possible what the mint of UK believes to be a frightfully difficult task for the common man. Of course, it also more than underscores the respect we have for stability in the current processes.

To actually capitalize on this stray thought process also tells us of the eager anticipation with which we look for holes in the system. Any and every way of governance and societal existence is open to total and unconditional exploitation. Sometimes, this leads to random sequences of ill-defined, unrepentant growth. On most other occasions, this effort at entrepreneurship ensures the preclusion of logical comforts which a human being should be entitled to enjoy. While I do not dream of Utopia, rightly known as the land which does not exist, I do wish for some laws which allow one the right to exercise an iota of judgment. Regulatory authorities being already aware of the general directions of the predisposition of this leniency, already acquire a non-surprising reluctance to provide any leeways from the bureaucratic juggernaut.

[Don't exactly know what I had in mind while writing this post, but I guess a publishing a half-written post is better than not publishing one. Dunno if the ending line is what I really wanted to say, but what the heck1 ]

To think we are proud of having the largest constitution in the world. Does it not, atleast in one sense, indicate that we are also the least law-abiding citizenry of the law-abiding world!

Mythological Motivations

2006-12-24T04:15:00.000+05:30

Let me say I am weak at mythology. All my experiences with Indian mythology are limited to the Bharatiya Vidya Bhavan, Nandan (a Hindi Children's monthly), Chandamama, B.R. Chopra, Ramanand Sagar and Anant Pai (rather Uncle Pai!). Introductions with Norse and Greek one's are further constrained to the odd articles here or there and the occasional stories found in folk-tale collections.

Still, there are some mythological characters that just stick on you. Some, who while lurking in the background, away from the great heros, present a fundamental heart wrenching reality in their own microcosm. Be it Astavakra, Eklavya, Jatayu... they are the ones who often steal the show. While the great events often adapt themselves as phrases in the normal language, its the small characters that many a time remain sketched in minds and memories, reminding, reinforcing in a sacrosanct way what you always knew.

One such character I came across while in school was that of Icarus. One of the first few and one of the only characters I remember from greek mythology. But the story then had immediate implications for me. It is not uncommon for a child to disobey his parents. But to learn of the fatal implications of such an act, could bring rude shocks. Insubtly. My very first feelings for the character were pity. He knew the follies of venturing near the sun or the damp, there was no tangible benefit which attracted him there. But he travelled, he went right upto the sun, right till he had no feathers to fly. I had left the story there, sympathising, living with the character etched in my memory.

As I came across the character a little recently quite by accident, I was reminded of my first encounter. But the emotions which the story evoked, were not the same. What Icarus displayed to me was a fundamental lack of rationality. An irrationality that can be linked from global warming to the next promotion. It tells you why a child risks disobeying his parents at the risk of a spanking. It displays an an irrationality that pervades most of our problems and defines most of our solutions.

When was the last time you ate that last chocolate cake knowing its not good for diabetics, when was the last time you overslept, procrastinated, stayed up late at work for that promotion, ignored global warming to be problem of the future while starting that car. I don't profess to know why you did this, but certainly, if you have ever exchanged a small short-term gratification for a long-term loss, you know why Icarus travelled to the sun.

[continuing another half written article - completed and published on 28th May 2.48 a.m.]

Irrationality and immeasurability in the world of the defined, rational and measurable is what keeps us human perhaps. Research(links would be provided if asked for), has shown that most gifts are overpaid for and represent a waste of money. Given the option what would you like, money splurged on expensive gifts or drab demand drafts.

Imagine for a second a world in which Icarus does not ever fly to the sun, imagine the world where we don't take risks, imagine a world with no global warming, imagine nuclear disarmament, no hunger, no unplanned chocolate cakes, no surprise gifts, no Edisons and Teslas, no imagination, no mythology, no motivation. A world devoid of discoveries and filled with improvisations. A world that runs with six sigma precision, a utopia.. a dystopia.

What Icarus stands for is recklessness, a playful spirit of disobedience, a capacity to take risks, a carefree spirit that lives for the moment! Even at the risk of life itself...

The Profanities of Existence

2006-12-06T01:31:00.000+05:30

A desire to uniquely place myself undergoes the ritual daily manifestation. Whenever I get my overly large posterior off from the mattress and manage to get the bulging adipose away from the quilt. It takes effort to bear the chilly morning and see your watch telling you that the time has passed for lesser (and slower) mortals to reach the class today. It is that time when the desire is strong, a desire to transcend beyond the immediate needs and requirements – the profanities of existence. A desire to weave eloquence in the undertones of getting up, brushing your teeth, forgetting to comb your hair and rushing to the class, missing the lecture for the nth time this week (Actually its only 5 times a week, but n shows better effect!) . It is then that reality dawns. Transcending the daily routine and wishing for something higher might take more of my time but I realize the HR issues plaguing my life. As the day passes that I seriously realize the need to employ someone other than the full-time employed Mr. Nobody who takes care of all my chores presently.

Wishes to transcend do not translate the wishing away to physical reality. As I aim for the higher purpose (All I think of is high! I practice it too. You really have to see the pile of junk in my room to see that I only believe in things going up), I realize mundanities have made it a habit to hamper solitary contemplations. Soliloquies on what I would do in the absence of quotidian demands on my precious seconds. Perhaps someday, I will get down to finding time for it. Someday I will read the pile of BS (that’s Business Std., what did you think?) lying on the cupboard. Someday I will even get that list of papers I wanted to check out, perhaps even write those DVDs and get some of the laundry done. If I am really lucky, perhaps my 7-book strong book collection will get some much needed dusting. Someday my table will not resemble the eternal dumping ground of all things torn and wasteful.

I discern a few words now and then: costs, processes, culture, equity, value-chain, realignment - the words fly by as I try to catch hold of them. Some of them just come by to spite me I think, to make me realize the futility of getting Mr. Nobody off the job. That fellow has unreasonably high replacement costs. Life goes on, on autopilot. There is the steering wheel somewhere around nearby, but when no one’s holding it, it’s a bit difficult to exactly pinpoint the location. And autopilot is comfortable. You even get to say, you enjoy the moment, that you see the present as a gift. Even put on display some other remarkable facets of imbecile wordplay. To put on the greatest spin, perhaps I can even correlate it in a Calvinistic fashion (the only Calvin I know is from Calvin and Hobbes) to building character. The higher the time it takes you to dig out that Kotler, the more is it a test of your tolerance and perseverance and the more is your inherent ability to withstand stress and the onerous responsibilities of physical labour. The daily effort in finding a place to sit, to lie down is enough to keep one on one’s edges in a character-building roller-coaster.

I do not wish to belabour the point, but it also indicates altruism of character that distinguishes a benevolent personality. Consider this, the total amount of junk in the world is going to remain constant. And if I fill more junk in my room, I make the rest of the world cleaner. If not absolutely, then atleast relatively in a Birbalesque fashion of making a line seem smaller by drawing a longer one next to it. If my room serves as a reference point, most people would be praising the excellent civic spirit of cleanliness in the city of Mumbai.

And think about the drive for cleanliness I spread around. Consider the inspirations and ramifications of the piles of plenty that permeate my room. The day is not far when case-studies on waste management will advise whom not to emulate. ‘Clean it up!’ speech sessions (to be inspired after an inspection of my humble abode) will quote me as example on for a possible futuristic scenario.

Again, to start cleaning up now for worldly ostentation would only show a cheapness of spirit and lowliness of thought. It would be plain and simple cruel to the environment. My room has generated its own healthy little ecosystem. A couple of lizards, incidental mosquitos and a variety of visitor insects dot all corners, building their homes, carrying out their whole life-cycles. Think of the decorations of the spiders, the intricate webs – to destroy them all in one ruthless stroke of maniacal sanitization, would rob the world of its colour and vibrancy. I simply do not have the heart enough to do it.

By the way, to all those on a perpetual cleanliness drive, I would just repeat the old cliché – Cleanliness is next to Godliness. Only next……

First Term at L

2006-09-26T14:54:00.000+05:30

The glass mellows, filters, numbs the intensity of the noon sun. Any sounds extrinsic to the coach face a no-entry as they try to board. The temperature is artificial as might be many things inside. It feels insulated. It is insulated, reinforced insulation. The wheels turn fast, kissing the tracks, holding on to them. I move homeward.

As the sounds die and the sights vaporize, the reflections start. A term is over. A short term as defined by time. Twelve weeks. A long term, if the added factor of it being the first term at a B-school like IIML is considered. A lot has happened and will continue happening, the details of which I will capture better in another spick and span new blog. As for the B-school, suffice to say, they make sure you are sure you look good even though you don’t have time to check your condition in the mirror.

Night-outs were a culture in engineering too. But the sole basis of being an owl was simply missing out on studies for six months in the hope of the one night. But you always had the option of sleeping. A B-school however screams blasphemy if it finds any student indulging in the pleasures of slumber. Any time spent in salutions to the Goddess of Sleep only seems to imply that you have no other work to do. When most nights are night-outs you don’t call them night-outs any more. It slowly peels off any layers of innocence and tolerance extant on the soul of an incoming fresher.

As I mulled on the jargonized common sense presented by organizational behaviour, my as yet untrained mind tried to comprehend the convolutions of the legal language. The joys of accounting and the intricacies of Quantitative Analysis conspired as they waited in ambush while CGI was getting impatient, waiting for its chance to overwhelm in conjunction with OM.

As days passed, the number of projects I have worked on till date saw a 200% increase. From gender inequalities at the workplace to the economics of the telecommunications industry, from documenting the process improvements at Gortrac to demystifying the financial statements of Classic Diamonds, everything worked together burdening my proportionately tiny intellect.

In retrospect, I can say that life till now has been action-packed and will continue to be so for the near future. It starts like a gentle breeze, slapping you on the wrists. Slowly, by the degrees, it turns into a mini-tornado engulfing you and tossing you around and leaving you pretty dumbstruck, whenever you are given a chance to peek out that is, that you have actually managed surviving till now.

You can read about life at a B-school, you can wonder about it, you can perhaps even analyze it to tiny details, but as they say you ain’t knowing it till you actually experience it!

What I miss in IIML

2006-08-22T01:34:00.000+05:30

I read a newspaper today! For one whole hour!

Here at IIML, this statement would signify nothing less than a momentous achievement. And this is what I miss second most here (The first being home cooked food!). The delicious joy of following the intricately constructed arguments about 'national interest' and losing yourself in the reams of paper expounding the 'intellectual underpinings' of this 'great democracy'. Yup, I am speaking of the unadulterated pleasure of following the nation's politics. Its something I have really begun to miss. Chronically humour depreived would be a precise description of my state now. For those who have never experienced the pleasure of indulging in political specatatorship, allow me to explain.

Reading politics and better still watching it is unbelievably entertaining. Some of the most unintentionally hilarious moments on television have been on the live telecast of the Lok Sabha in session. On another level, it also appeals and invigorates all the dormant pious instincts that you may have preserved to this day. After all, divine intervention is the only plausible reason that the national framework still stands. If you have never seen the parliament in session, let me share some enriching experiences:

It was the question hour of parliament and a backbencher was questioning the telecommunications minister. I was surfing channels and the words 'UMTS' and 'WCDMA' caught my attention.

'What would be government's policy with regards to frequency allocation for emerging technologies like UMTS and WCDMA?' (This is not the exact question, but the gist as I remember it.)

I was surfing channels and the words 'UMTS' and 'WCDMA' caught my attention. Being an electronics engineer who had spent nights framing SoPs on how he would like to contribute to 4G technologies, I was surprised to the point of stupefication that such things were actually discussed in the Lok Sabha. My immensely mistaken impression then connected the sole utility of this structure as a primary medium for slogan shouting, walking out and congregating in the well. The minister started replying and I did not have to work too hard at restraining my newfound sense of awe:

"We will leave it to the market forces. (some non-specific generalized sentences).The government is not going to discriminate between CDMA or GSM."

I rolled over the statement in my head. Surely, there was something missing. But the backbencher was satisfied. And I was hooked. Enlightenment. The arcane mysteries of policy making started unravelling around me. I looked up the telecom minister's website. His astute discriminating worldview emerged perhaps from the years he spent studying economics. A degree in economics, ofcourse, eliminates the need to fiddle around with trivial acronyms of dubious utility. I also saw his 'vision plan' for leapfrogging directly to 4G.

And I cried after that. My head bowed in respect to the unparalleled efforts of the Indian decision makers towards providing comic relief to a saas-bahu laden TV scenario. From then on, perhaps as a mark of appreciation for this effort, I caught up with the parliament broadcast whenever I could. And day after day, this belief of mine was reinforced!

An angry Somnath Chatterjee and the honourable MPs teasing him. These were lessons in stress release that I will never forget. To blend a childlike unrestrained mirth with the travails of policymaking was exemplified in their behaviour. Again there were a few spoilsports like BhairavSingh Shekawat who managed to enforce an superficial discussion and suppress these natural instincts, but thankfully they kept their hands off the Lower House.

And speaking of Unity, this is where you see the best examples. Infact, this is one place where you actually learn that walkouts and protests are a better idea than discussions in the parliament. The second event I remember during the sombre and worklike mood of the parliament (the first being my brushes with 3G and 4G) was in the days before the introduction of the 93rd constitutional amendment Act. It was a BJP MP who raised the issue of the 'deprieved' classes being not able to secure their rightful place in private institutes. It was a UPA minister who answered the concern with plans to bring about a Constitutional Amendment to correct this 'injustice' (became famous some months later as Mandal II). To this day whenever I hear the Congress and the BJP harping the same tune, I often start sweating!

This visual vividity of perennial laughter is what led me further to explore the vicarious pleasures of the recorded words - the saved records on the Parliament of India website. And it was remarkable. Yes.. there was mine to dig but the tireless were rewarded with true jewels. Like on the debate on uniform civil code, a recorded argument against uniform civil code - 'Shariah is the word of God and no one can challenge it'. And for all those hounding Advani for his Jinnah remarks (for the lesser educated, he praised Jinnah's secular vision for Pakistan based on a speech of Jinnah), the Indian constituent assembly actually praised Jinnah's spirit which led him to carve out the state of Pakistan. No this is not my interpretation. It is present in those many words! (A link would be provided if asked for!)

And now I miss that. IIM Lucknow has led me away from the intellectual joys of ineffectual democracy. From the puppet prime minister and the 'progressive' leftist opposition to the 'supportive' rightists and the IIMAed Lalu, I no longer can enjoy their unique attempts at public service. We certainly do not have the best politicians in the world as part as governance is concerned, but when it comes to public entertainment, its a challenge to come up with better.

On Power Cuts and Perspectives....

2006-07-22T13:41:00.000+05:30

And into one end [of the Total Perspective Vortex], he plugged the whole of reality as extrapolated from a piece of fairy cake, and into the other, he plugged his wife: so that when he turned it on she saw in one instant the whole infinity of creation and herself in relation to it.
To Trin Tragula's horror, the shock completely annihilated her brain........

-Douglas Adams
(The Restaurant at the End of the Universe)

We experienced a power cut on campus today. I was walking down the corridor, towards the water cooler at around 9 pm, when suddenly all lights went out. Black. That was how the scene looked. Or perhaps it did not look that way at all, for I could not claim to see anything. It took me a few seconds to realize that the whole campus was experiencing a power cut. As I ambled on roomwards, with the support of the wall, I reached the outing towards the terrace, or the 'Titanic', to speak colloquially (The architect here displayed some very obvious emotional influences from James Cameron's masterpiece. Hint: Think of the I am the king of the world scene).

I looked out and started onto the terrace. It was a sight I had perhaps never seen in Mumbai. A night sky unpolluted, uninhibited by any sort of light, or buildings, skyscrapers, skylines. The stars twinkled in thousands, millions. There were no neon signs to distract. Moonlight was still nascent, growing with each night. The clouds had also spared the skies on this instance. It was just the stars, the moon and the night sky. No lights except for a lonely motorbike rider near Nescafe.

A group of seniors gathered on after a few seconds.

"Beautiful", I heard that muttered somewhere. Could not agree more. Beautiful, astounding, confusing, flabbergasting, discombobulating and all the other unpronounceable adjectives you can think of. It was the beauty of eternity and infinity. And this beauty is frightening. You never know when eternity will end. You can never guess the boundaries of infinity. Until ofcourse you consider chocolate cakes...... To get a better idea, imagine an infinitely long chocalate cake and time you would take to eat it all. Also consider all the indigestion you would have to suffer if the chocolate cake is made in the mess. All this chocolate cake stuff quickly put a lot of perspective on my appetite for deserts. It disappeared faster than the sputtering electricity supply to a certain management institute in Northern India.

Beauty, especially that which challenges all your concepts of proportion, either degenerates all thoughts in vicinity to poetic enchantment or drains all the guarded optimism you had been preserving for such a day. Believe me it is a shitty feeling to think about the cosmic importance of 'Effects of changes in the foreign exchange rates - European and Indian Accounting Standards' while watching more than an eyeful of stars staring smugly at you. This leads to cynicism about the whole process of living in general or begets creative rationalizations about the importance of accounting standards in alien galaxies. Both of which are not good thoughts to have when a host of quizzes are lined up for the coming week.....

The power was back in two minutes. Everyone trundled back to their rooms. I did too. I was bit disconcerted, for I had seen something obvious. Something so obvious, that I had never seen it ever before. Something so obvious that its better left ignored. It will take some time to recede into mundanity but I will succeed....

To Trin Tragula's horror, the shock completely annihilated her brain, but to his satisfaction he realized that he had proved conclusively that if life is going to exist in a Universe of this size, then one thing it cannot afford to have is a sense of proportion.

Life starts

2006-07-21T19:25:00.000+05:30

[Post incomplete, no intention ever to get down to completing it!]

"We have to write our CV's.. Find your (tor)mentors".

It started with this. Phone calls, engaged, busy, not available... Call again.

"You are not going for the health run ! First go there and then come for getting the CVs checked"

The 'Health' Run involved running around 2 rounds of the ring road which is loong (3 kms is a conservative guess I think!) and being all happy and cool about it while your seniors snapped your photographs riding bikes. It also involved the pretty 'healthy' aspect of getting cramps in your feet good enough to trouble you for the whole of the next day.

The more than healthy over, I call again. Meet.
"This is childish."
"You expect someone to believe this!"
"Don't tell me you call this an ethical mistake!"

Everything short of tear this sheet away and get lost! After begging, borrowing and some (unsuccessful) attempts at forging signatures, finally submitted the CVs exactly at 12.00. Whew! This work is done. Now I can rest.

" You heard about the case discussion tomorrow ?"

Whaaat!

Skitter of to the CC. Read the case till I hear the mynahs chirping.

"We also have a test later on!"

Meanwhile the 8-hour per day registration modules are on! Goodbye sleep!

Case over! Test over! Time for sleeping....

"Get your groups together. There is a presentation tomorrow."
Phone calls, meetings, presentations prepared...

Registrations started too. It was then that I understood the institute's way of inculcating physical fitness. I stared unbelievably at the pile of books kept on the desk. It took my brain some time to comprehend the ingenious plan that they had in hand. Two days of doing this, and all my cultivated and preserved flab of 21 years will go down the drain.

Anyway, presentations or the rather 'we will have fun at your expense' ragging sessions were done with before we were called for a batch meeting.

Now was the time when the results would be announced, as to who got in which section!

[In the interests of preserving sanity and some traditions, I will leave the story here!]

A Warm Welcome

2006-07-20T22:16:00.000+05:30

IIM Lucknow has active students, enlightened faculty, competent doctors, enterprising (and some may mistake this for fleecing) shopkeepers and pretty helpful watchmen. But what often escapes the eyes of the general media is the army of insects that reside on its lawns. The day I entered the institute, the day when it rained, that was the day when the insects decided to welcome me.

Man! Was my room colourful!! Green, Black, Brown, blue - just think of any colour and I could all colours of insects. I was pretty overwhelmed with this show of affection. Infact, some of these were friendly enough to get physical. Which was the time when I too decided to reciprocate. Physically. Most of the insects too were overwhelmed by my display of gratitude I guess for most of them never woke up after this. As for the ones who did, I made sure that they had their throat choked with emotion.

That was the day I realized what they meant when they said you will learn more out of class than inside it during your MBA. I mean how many people can learn to become human replacements of HIT in one day. Not many I guess. But most of us here at IIML did that. And you cannot even imagine the pride of being a 'TeesMaarKhan' (The khan who killed thirty) till you actually accomplish it. Talk of extra-curricular achievements and job satisfaction! All this even before the classes had started!

The rest of the day was spent exploring the campus, from the mess which cooks paneer every other day and a sweet everyday to the Nescafe outlet where you get Polo. From the temple to the guest houses, from the slums to the suburbs this was the place that I was going to live in for two years. So, two years it is with classmates, faculty, staff and most-importantly : the insects!

First Impressions...

2006-07-02T00:12:00.000+05:30

(Describes day on 26th March 2006)

There were 4 extra people inside the compartment. So 12 people shared space that meant to accomodate 8. The train was Pushpak Express. Mumbai to Lucknow in 24 hours. Or 26 perhaps to welcome the uninvited guests hopping in. PNB picked me up from the coach itself for a free trip to the campus (and also made me ponder on the kind of sea-change the PSU has gone under).

Rains, reasonably heavy rains, welcomed me to the city. The first rains of the city. Rains which made the station crowded, the taxi late and the journey long. Ones which robbed the summer of its ferocity, laid a patina of wetness on all seeable existence and declared loudly, the state of the blocked gutters. The PNB car veered through the streets, between bungalows and gardens, skirting the edges of the impromptu pools near the 'Parivartan Chowk', and finally giving up and wading through the submerged streets of Aliganj. Political posters presented themselves with an unremarkable ubiquity. Only the face of Sharad Pawar, Bal Thackeray and Co. were here replaced by Messrs. Mulayam Singh and Amar Singh. The rest of the journey was quotidian and marked by attempts at pretty mundane small talk.

The campus is 3.4 km from Sitapur Road, a fact which lends its name to the institute band '3.4'. It is another fact that the only thing musical in that journey was the vibrating car and the rattling luggage it was loaded with. A road sign proclaimed proudly, 'IIM Lucknow'. This was followed by many quotations of the usual quota of personalities on whom has been thrust the responsibility of being the 'visionaries' and 'missionaries' of the world. The car took a turn to the right.

A sharp turn. There right before me were the images of the most famous charioteer ever guiding the chariot, the horses and a substanial part of the rest of the world with it. In the hands of his rider, one of the most redoubtable archers ever, the Gandiva stood ready. In sharp contrast or perhaps synergy, stood leading the man whose philosophy of non-violence was inspired by the charioteer and the archer waging the war of righteousness.

As the car drove in the enormity of the campus sank in. Names of the inventor of Yoga and the progenitor of Indian ecomics (rather politics) passed by, as did the hostels.

I was finally in IIM Lucknow.......

Visa Power

2006-06-14T01:33:00.000+05:30

Nothing beats an interview which starts with a beautiful brunette (BB) looking wide eyed and smiling congratulations at you. Trust me, I speak with experience.

Bluedart delivered my passport today, with a US Visa (F1) for five years. And this Visa followed quite a laborious and to-a-no-end journey of digging through convoluted personal finances, capricious university websites and breezing through 45 seconds of pointless chatting (OK! Not the pointless, but it did not have much of a point to it either). Preparation for visa interview usually entails engaging the (quite needless) services of a Visa counsellor, creating pretty creative balance-sheets, learning by rote a sum total of fifty questions and pursuing with equal vigour, the relation between the number of visa rejections and the hair colour of the visa officer.

The first step, that of Visa counsellors is a cottage industry by itself. The small scale industry that helps people emigrate and ensures that they leave this country for good. (Ironically, increasing prosperity in India, propels an increasing number of students abroad, year on year.) The second step is one with enough intricacy and arcane mystery to defeat any old sherlock holmes story you loved best, the financial documents created by an Indian wishing to emigrate... Oops! Sorry! an Indian wishing to go to the US for higher studies. The third step involves knowing fully well how to pronounce the 'oops!' and 'sorry!' and to never introduce them in the context that I have used in the previous sentence. The fourth step is completely voluntary and more often than not indulged in with a speculative fervour in sync with the land without a Las Vegas: where repressed feelings find a variety of outlets. My favourite, atleast from this day, would be dark brown.

After a few sleepless nights and misplaced attempts at comprehending finance and discovering a new fullform for the acronym BS, I decided to place all my bets on a not-quite-digitally-touched up photograph to scare the interviewer into granting me a visa. Anyways, I reached the vfs office, (my worshipful emulation of this Japanese concept still intact) just in time. Before I could finish the quite steeply charged 150 bucks cup of coffee (which reminds me, coffee with too much sugar tastes as crappy as one without any), we were called to board the bus which was to transport us to the embassy. It was quite an uneventful journey (the only worth mentioning non-event being that I did not have to fight for a window seat with a resourceful five-year old).

At the embassy, I passed through a door where people confused pull with push (quite personifying that eternal dilemma that is every door's destiny). Following this I subjected myself to the indiscreet inspections of a metal detector and was fingerprinted. Digitally. Digital fingerprinting reminded me of the travails I had to undergo at the Indian passport office, first for finding an inkpad and then sqeezing any molecules of ink left on it to my thumb. Digital fingerprinting is better. Much better if the screen is not dirty and the attendant there does not clean your fingers 10 times, forgetting in her earnestness that its the screen that is dirty. I also got a token here, a pink slip with a number, which was to be my identity till the time that this number is called out on the speaker. After getting the token, all I did and all that everyone does is sit quietly, listen carefully and just pray that you don't have to visit the loo anytime soon. Because the number is announced only once.

Nervous and not so nervous faces were scattered in the waiting room. Providence (or rather an anonymous VISA officer), being especially gracious, my token number was called, along with 10 others, before 10 minutes of waiting were over.

10 people make for a long queue, but at the grocer's or the railway counter. It's faster at the US consulate. You get your yes or no in 30 seconds flat. I was fifth in the queue when the BB called me inside.

BB : Hi!
Me: (forgot the good morning M'am I had parotted, and with that, in a chain reaction, forgot a whole lot of other things) Uh.. oh... Hi!
BB: (Smiling) Can you pass your token please ?
Me: (Passed the token, still in a daze, forgot to smile oh.. sure.. as I had practiced)

At this point in time, BB gets my documents out of the envelope that has been given to her. Then gets my form out and stared wide-eyed. Raises her eyebrows. I see her looking at the photograph. As I eliminate the chances of any hair-raising and frightening details on my face, I consider the possible of malicious intentions disfiguring my countenance. I prepare an elaborate answer on how the al-quaida may have had a role any size mismatches of my photograph.

BB: (The raised eyebrows and the wide eyes are followed by a wide wider widest smile) 1570!! You got a wonderful GRE score! Congratulations!

Me: (Feeling quite gratified but at a loss of understanding. I mean, these people are supposed to be some of the rudest on the planet, right.) Thanks!!

BB: So, what degree are you going to go for at Rutgers ?
Me: MS in Electrical and Computer Engg

BB: MS.. (Some guy comes behind her and starts talking with her. I wait for a few seconds). So, who is going to pay for your education.
Me: My parents. (Suddenly remember the lines I had rattofied) My mother and my father.

BB: So, what do they do?
Me: Tell

BB: What is your income ?
Me: Tell

BB: What are you savings ? You must have savings right ?
Me: (No I don't but I especially created them for thsi day!) Tell... If you want, I can show you the documents..

BB: (Starts writing something and waves her hands, as if she does not have time to deal with such petty trivialities)
Me: (feeling relieved at not having to explain something I did not myself understand)

BB: (Starts typing something) Why did you choose Rutgers ?
Me: Its got a wonderful wireless program. I want to specialize in wireless communication....

BB: (Body language interrupts me) Take your I20 please... (Then holds her voice like Amitabh in KBC. The pause continues for some time after which, the eyes behind the spectacles start smiling) Ok! Your Visa has been approved and you will be getting your passport in 2-3 weeks.
Me: (Finally return this smile) Thanks!

I visit the loo after this and experience the fact that US consulate toilets are not very different from other ones.

(Completing this post from IIML. Call it an irony. Call it poetic justice. Btw, only I can understand the latter. So you better refrain from guessing. )

An August Guest

2006-06-09T06:35:00.000+05:30

(Post started on: 13th May 2006 12.57 a.m.)

August is a regal month. Grand like the emperor it is named after. It is the month of showers, of holidays, of Raksha Bandhan, of semester beginnings. But perhaps I will remember it for one more factor. 'It' had come uninvited in August. Turned up. Just like that. Then 'it' was murdered. Who did it? Perhaps one. Perhaps many. Perhaps none. I will never know. Perhaps this is what happens when you lack legs, when you prefer coiling up to sitting down and to top it all, when you turn in uninvited. It's a killer concoction. Literally.

It was a few days after the 'flood' and a few days before the date I had chosen to grace the Graduate Record Examination. The inundation had, in the most indiscreet and depraved fashion, played havoc with my time-table. The disorientation, impairment, haste, panic had finally given way to sense, calm, order, reason. I thought I had settled down, by that day atleast. Finally, to life with its mundanity, to satisfaction with the ordinary and the expectation of the quotidian.

That day started like the usual days started then. Late. At noon almost. The day was not sunny. But it was also not raining. The heavens were a mixture of black and blue. The light was soft. The winds were weak, more like a breeze. The skies had been more than extravagant earlier. The weather was trying its best to appear threatening. It only managed to appear exceedingly pleasant. That happens when you have spent yourself, done much more already than you ought to have. Transience of thought and an impending fear were the only facts that bound me inside reading wordlists. It was not that important but it doesn't matter. I thought it to be important.

As the clock chimed two, I sat down. For my daily tryst with morality, ethics, art, science. Condensed into 45 minutes. Simple, sweet and served at short notice. The only area of intimate concern and worry to me here, was that I was supposed to prepare, spice, season and serve it. They also call it an exercise in essay writing, an exercise in presenting views, notions, contentions; easily chewable, digestible, assimilable. It was worth 6 points in the GRE. It was the part every test, mock or otherwise, inaugurated with. The Kaplan mock tests did not display their rebellious non-conformist attitude in the beginning, for the initial test of writing skills. They stuck to morality, ethics, art, science, the whole deal.

The topic did not disappoint me that day. It dealt with ethical dilemmas.The usual dilemmas, everyday stuff. Right, wrong. Correct, incorrect. Black, white. Or grey. Custom-made, for custom-made answers. I started thinking. Then, I started typing. Ethics are very important, especially for the GRE. Typing is also important: 700 words, 45 minutes.

I was somewhere in the somewhere in the middle of quantifying and comparing the estimable the heinous, when I could make out the first traces of the commotion outside. Something was unsual. Perhaps a raucous child was separated from his fragile ego, the whole and sole of which was invested in his only toy. Expectations and approximations however, have an irritable and infallible tendency of conforming rarely with reality. I listened some more, pretty unsurreptiously interrupted and disrupted. My hands dealt with the keyboard like everyday. Thought took a backdrop, but expression continued. It seemed the commotion was drawing near. Individual words were perceivable. Snake... Its moving fast... Its entered his house. My doorstep was host to an assortment of neighbours now. The proximity of the cacaphony indicated that the reptilian visitor had chosen my abode. I sat still. But my hands refused any attempts to tranquility. They were still busy churning out words. Perhaps it was a tranquil state for them. It happens when you do something too many times.

My family was at the doorstep now, greeting the stranger, the stranger from the strange land. Its moved beneath the cot. I sat up with that, perhaps physically. My fingers were talking, dancing, typing. The excitement in the air was palpable. You could touch it, feel it, kiss it and preserve it for a later day. A later day when the talking fingers could give it a handful. Close the doors. Communicating with a stranger is laborious, if the tongues are different. It is downright impossible, if they are physically so. A language does not merely communicate, it connects, endears, bonds, it makes the stranger feel at home. But stranger was not home. A flood does not discriminate. It also does not rehabilitate. Get the stick out. It was thirty minutes. My fingers stopped dancing, playing. The greater good was justified. 600 words is enough justification.

I rushed outside, somewhere between the triumvirate of the still cot, the panicky neighbours and the agitated household. Insecurity was pervasive, the air reeked of it. It passed through your nostrils and inundated your senses. Insecurity was stamped under the cot too. No language made the stranger feel home. Whack! It hit the tail.But no one cried. Language, expression and communication lead to trust. Trust that allows humans to exist. Trust that prevents people from roaming around the streets weilding bludgeons and trashing each other at the slightest suspicion. Everyone on the street is not out to get me and I am not out to get anyone else. This is one of the fundamental axioms of humanity. A calibrated trust pervades society, permits existence and enhances growth.

Its moving from beneath the cot. A flash of black followed that statement. Home! It searched for it. Lunged for it, from beneath the cot. The one place where understanding prevails, where security does not cause the air to go foul. A reptile does not have legs, but it moves fast. It can even descend steps, faster than me. But it can only run in my land. It cannot leave for its own.

A bicycle parked makes for a makeshift, eventful home. It also makes an insecure home, for a stranger in a strange land. It will trouble someone else now. The first blow missed the head by a whisker. The coiled form was agitated, searching. There was no space for uncoiling between the front wheels. Whack! The head was pulp. Mistakes may happen once but they do not continue in perpetuity. The searching eyes were obliterated. It was still, almost coiled. The air was losing its heaviness. The ruckus was subsiding. There was a crowd around it. A crowd of civilization, education, security.

I rushed inside, within time. 45 minutes were just over. Another section was waiting for me.

Fun? Nah.....!

2006-06-03T00:54:00.000+05:30

"There is Aamir, there is Kajol, coming back after a really long time, the production is Yashraj. How bad can it get?" Those were my thoughts as I marched into Chandan for the evening show of Fanaa. I seriously did not have an idea of how bad it could get! To call it fatally boring would be an understatement. The whole team of Fanaa deserves a pat on their backs. With such a rocking starcast (one which ends all requirement for any sort of publicity) and such a famous production house to boot, it would take real effort to produce such a dud. With so many things going in your favour, it takes all the sweat and toil possible to make an audience cry for mercy as the film inches towards its hair-tearing climax. We can well nigh salute them, for they have achieved the nearly impossible.

I think the Gujrat BJP had truly humanitarian concerns and economic motivations when they (unofficially) banned this movie. The hangover that comes after enduring it can render a mortal human incapable of any productive endeavour for atleast a day. And after looking at the crowded hall massaging its forehead (at Mumbai), I can safely assume that Narendra Modi is truly against all activity that negatively affects the economy of Gujrat. By the way, if you really have a grudge against someone, buy them a ticket of Fanaa. I promise you the person won't leave while the movie is still in progress, hoping against hope that it going to be good. Its really worth it. Those who still plan to see the movie and care about jokes (in Fanaa's case) called 'story', 'plot' and 'climax' can stop reading now.

The movie starts with a subtle scene introducing a blind Kajol. She has her back towards the flag while saluting it. Thats it! The subtlety ends here. And from here starts a misplaced attempt at melodrama that seeks to combine Yash Chopra style tear jerker romance with James Bond and Rambo. Its not all intertwined but served piecemeal, one at a time. So you have romance, followed by rambo, backed up by some more romance mixed with crying, then a James Bondesque spy thriller and following close on its heels, some crying while James Bond is still in action. Seems confusing? It's more when you actually get down to seeing it. First of all, you have this five day love story. Kajol, i.e., Zooni Ali Beg, lives in (Poland passed of as) Kashmir with her parents. She is blind but she is still going to be the lead dancer of her troupe for the program on 26th January. And this programme is at the Rashtrapathi Bhavan we are told, at night! This is where the inanities begin.

Anyway, Ms. Zooni comes to Delhi, and meets Rehan, the tour guide (that's Aamir Khan). Then they forget how normal people speak. Why do they do this? Thats because the dialogue writer has a cell phone and he wants to flaunt his technical abilities which involve composing and reading SMSes. To achieve this end he showcases his long archived collection of SMS shayaris as dialogue between Aamir and Kajol. When the first shayaris appear, you can appreciate those, but slowly you start getting restless and after half an hour of celebrating SMS wit, you can almost scream, "Gimme back the plain and simple Hindi/Urdu back. No one speaks like this". This was not my opinion alone. I could hear a just perceivable 'Oh God!' from the row in front when they start with the corny poetry again and yet again. Anyway, after boring us with shayaris for around one hour, the director gets bored and decides to marry the main characters off. So, you have Aamir madly-deeply-passionately in love with Kajol in five days after which he sleeps with her and brings her back from the train (when she is returning to Kashmir). As for her colleagues, they let him take their blind friend. Forget about calling her parents, its too much trouble!. In the next scene Kajol decides she needs to tell her parents about this. This is how the conversation goes:
(This is not exact. Just the approximation of the conversation which was as short.)

"Mom I am in love!"
"Who is he?"
"Rehan. I want to marry him. I want your permission."
"Yes my daughter yes. We trust you completely. We will come to Delhi shortly. You can start preparing for the wedding."

This about it.The happy family of AnK (Aamir and Kajol) goes to the doctor, who immediately puts Kajol on the table for a retina transplant and before her parents arrive, lo and behold! She gets her sight back. But poor Aamir dies (You actually know that he cannot die because they do not show his dead body anyways), before Kajol ever sees him, in a bomb blast near Rashtrapati Bhavan. Now comes my favourite part. This is the mother of all unintentionally funny moments. They actually call Kajol, who has never seen Aamir (She was blind, duh!) to identify the badly burnt body of Aamir. The doctor actually puts this in words:

"Identification main karne wala tha, par body itni boori halat mein hai ki tumhein hi identification karna hoga."

This was supposed to be a usual emotional scene, to get the lachrymals work overtime, but I was laughing my ass off. I could imagine the director laughing his ass off too while shooting this scene:

"Do you think this will actually go down people's throat? Blind girl, Identification et all.."

"Hey! Listen buddy, our viewers are STUPID. Let me spell that out to you S-T-U-P-I-D. They will swallow anything we show them."

"Oh.. but .."

"I have been in this business a long time. There are a lot of dumb people around. My audience has its IQ in single digits. They will enjoy this scene.... HA HA HA HA HA..."

I didn't feel quite right after this and stopped laughing. Coming back to the movie, the sad family goes on to their home and we are introduced to the anti-terrorist squad headquarters investigating this scene. Here we are introduced to Tabu, who tells us that the militant group IKF is fighting for Kashmiri independence. They are terrorizing both India and Pakistan. Now call me biased, chauvinistic, or simply realistic but I take a strong exception to absolving Pakistan of all crimes in Kashmiri Terrorism. I even do not agree that Pakistan today is not in concert with the militants. The movie however, makes it amply and painfully clear that the terrorists are independent of any national identity and are threatening both India and Pakistan. Since, Indian movies are already banned in Pakistan, any ideological or economic motivations behind these clarifications were lost on me. A possible reason occured to my brother later on : Paksitani diaspora pay for Indian movies!! So much for clean entertainment.

Tabu goes on to introduce us to the chief operator of IKF, who is expectedly, even for the most numb-skulled, an Aamir Khan with a different haircut. He may be a terrorist but because he is Aamir and because this is a Yashraj movie, he apologizes to Kajol's photograph, tears it and throws it down on the road with a flamboyant disregard for any civic sense that a terrorist with his chic should possess.

Like all good conventional Hindi movies, the story is picked up and dropped exactly 7 years into the future, not a year less, not a year more. Now starts the rambo like spy-thriller. Aamir the terrorist goes on to procure the last component (called the trigger) for making a nuclear missile (they have already collected all the other parts, dont ask me how!!). For this he impersonates a Captain Rajeev from the Indian army. All this while Tabu puts on a oh-so-tough look, spouts a case for plebiscite in Kashmir and decides that she wants to play chor-police (in the modern avatar of terrorist and anti-terrorist squad officer). While, Aamir runs from the commandoes and kills them one by one in the Kashmiri (or Polish) Jungle (a la Rambo: First Blood), you think he is only doing a cheap imitation of Sunny Deol. Deol is much better at this. Trust me! I have seen Gadar. Deol can atleast make me laugh. Aamir makes me squirm. As cinematic fate would have it, after killing everyone around, our zakhmi anti-hero lands up in a snowstorm in the middle of nowhere. He knocks a door in the middle of nowhere. And guess what? Kajol opens the door (she lives in the middle of nowhere!!). Then they show a kid behind Kajol and this is like the second most unintentionally funny moment in the movie. He got a kid!! Like all good, dutiful and sincere Hindi movie couples, their one and only attempt at procreation had met with unprecedented success. Aamir is so shocked at this point that he goes unconscious. (The audience too gets shocked but God in all his mercy does not make them unconscious.)

Then proceeds the romantic movie part 2, by which time you really do not care what happens to the characters. Live, die, go into a coma, do whatever you want, just end this movie. (A welcome change in this part is the low frequency of the ubiquitous shayaris, there are only corny dialogues and a oh-so-cute kid thrown in for free.) It is now that you understand the whole point of Kajol's blindness in the first part. She is not supposed to recognize the living Aamir (even though she has already identified his badly burnt dead body). Anyway, here Aamir suddenly remembers that inspite of defacing the streets of some country with Kajol's torn photograph, he still loves her. Kajol fulminates and tells him of her perpetual state of mental delirium where she cut and pasted ears, noses, lips, eyes from various photographs to form Aamir's photo. (The fact that the travel agent with whom Aamir worked can give her a description and make life easy never occured to her, but then as I said before, details are certainly not the strong point of this movie.) The next day Aamir tries leaving. Here comes the third most unintentionally funny moment in the movie. Kajol runs after him and then gives him ONE TIGHT SLAP. My friend summed up the emotions welling up properly when he said, "That should have been the director!" So, AnK marry officially now and live happily ever after. Except that we still have the IKF and Anti-terrorist squad angle to be taken care of.

There's the mission too after all. At this point the screenplay turns into a word for word reproduction of the climactic scenes from 'The eye of the needle' by Ken Follet. The climax is suitably Indianized, but Kajol (quite unnecessarily) kills Aamir in the end. Logic ofcourse, is as oblivious from the finale as from the rest of the movie. Kajol gets the trigger, escapes from a mad Aamir (just a bad impersonation of any action hero worth his salt here, nostrils flaring, eyes pretty large and emotionless). She contacts Tabu who advises her to.. well.... do nothing (she has to kill Aamir in the end, which she won't be able to do if she destroys the trigger now). Keeping true to the long lasting tradition of the police coming in at the movie's end, Tabu et al come in the end and the quite dreary movie ends on a drearier note.

Aamir and Kajol try to act their best but are still confused as to what they are supposed to do. Rishi Kapoor drinks and cries for all he is worth. Kiron Kher appears again in the ideal-mother role (Am I the only one who feels she is getting typecast?). Shiny Ahuja and Lara Dutta have roles so short, that you suspect they were put into the movie for a game of find-me-if-you-can. Tabu, does mostly nothing except for frowning, ordering and coming in towards the end. To sum up, efforts of the cast are valiant but they are no match to the incompetent story, confused editing, corny dialogues and directionless lack of entertainment. The movie is confused as to what it wants to be, shifting from one mode to another, confusing the audience and disorienting any sense of continuity. Good movies are not always logically correct ones but they are always ones where the audience experiences a 'suspension of disbelief'. A state wherein he/she can vicariously experience the travails of the character. They know its all untrue but they still believe it. If the movie is funny, it persuades you to get the main idea. However, the only state Fanaa put me in was 'suspension of all belief'. I didn't care two cents for the characters, and movie does not have any central idea.

Inspite of it being such a dud, I know the movie is going to do well. Since you have no work in life (how did I find out? coz, you read this post upto here!), you are probably already making plans for the movie. I know what you are thinking right at this moment, "There is Aamir, there is Kajol, coming back after a really long time, the production is Yashraj. How bad can it get?".... Another victory of hope over experience.

Over and Done !

2006-06-02T00:50:00.000+05:30

I never thought I would get mushy about it, or that I would even retain an iota of sentiment about it. I never thought it would hit me with such a feeling of awe and leave me dumb, grasping for words, struggling for expressions. God knows why, but I started feeling a bit empty today. Unless I am one of the chosen few personally stamped unlucky by the almighty, I finished with my engineering today. I guess I had finished it an year ago when I had given up hopes on my college, but yet, today I was done with it. Officially. Over, done, finished, completed... like a THE END they show at the end of the movies. The only difference is: the movies actually end with the THE END. Engineering and what I did here or rather failed to do here would remain with me for a long time.

It had grown upon me painfully, but it was something I liked almost with a spirit of masochism. It was wasting, gangrenous, but it was a part of me that was gangrenous and you don't cut away a part of your body that easily. The boring lectures, ineffectual practicals, cutting edge copy technique inventions for the class test, assignments, had all seeped inside somewhere, almost ritualistic. It is something so commonplace that even though you hate it, you never expect it to go anywhere. The feeling that emerges is of chasing the ephemeral days, like running after a an elusive butterfly, yet hoping, in your heart of hearts, of never catching it. Waiting for the days to become better but not wishing them away, for these are something that no new step can ever be : stable.

I am feeling this void perhaps because stability does not come easy. As each phase ends and another begins, so starts a struggle for adaptation, for existence, for survival. What I hate most is uncertainity. However futile may have been this exercise in the pursuit of education, it scarcely left me in doubt to its futility. It did not leave open any scope for idle speculation. What is today, will remain tommorrow, my thoughts decreed. It has become only habitual to assume that after 4 years. However, when what is today, does not remain tommorrow, it is then that change sets in, bringing with itself uncertainity. Perhaps the tommorrow will be better, perhaps it would be worse, but it wouldn't be the same. The smug, self-assured look is difficult to maintain now, as the mind wanders and speculates on what might happen. It is as if, a rug has been pulled from under your legs. You were standing on the edge anyways, but you are off your balance now, atleast for a few seconds till you get your bearings. The only difference in my case here is that my search for my bearings is taking me much more than mere seconds or minutes or hours.

As the feeling seeps inside, the thoughts slip outside. One by one. No one is in a hurry here. But it accumulates, the baggage of experience, stuffing till the seams are on the verge of bursting. Then perhaps the seams actually burst. What do you say when that happens? What do you say intellect loses control and comprehension, when intuition rules and hope cheers. I say to the hopeful, first let it sink in, let me wait till I feel complete again.

Scribblings of a soon-to-be 15 year old - II

2006-04-23T11:39:00.000+05:30

Continued from Scribblings of a soon-to-be 15 year old - I

The astounding 10-comments-success of my first essay amongst my peers, convinced me of the reality of my ambitions towards the NP (Nobel Prize). Not willing to let India miss this chance of showcasing her 'literal' talent in the international arena, I embarked on the project of writing another essay. Giving it much more thought and concentration this time. The subject on this occassion was an hourful of the mathematics lecture that tested the helpless endurance of the whole class (My views at that point in time, I was yet to see engineering, you see!). While the earlier essay was entirely true in facts, this was a healthy mix of fact and fiction. So this was what I wrote [My comments are as usual in the square brackets]:

"
My Maths Teacher
(As seen from the eye of Ankur Saraf)

She enters the classroom and what a grand entrance it is. Armed with the maths textbook and answers to sums 'inspired' from the guide and self-study. Medium in size, both in length and breadth, clad in a saree, does she come presenting a tough fight for us.

Ah! School-days have their own memories and her memory will be fresh in the top of my head forever. She will never escape the memories of the most terrible experiences of my life. If everything has pros and cons, certainly I could not see anything that signifies a 'pro' in her.

She glares at me through her specs. The look of a blood-thirsty hound in search of its prey catches my attention. The butcher is waiting, with a knife in her hand to sacrifice lambs. Blood is dripping from here eyes, her tongue is tasting the taste of our heads. Well, she really does enjoy eating our heads, it is but obvious.

She has three periods today, that completes a full one and a half hour of struggle to live, of struggle to suppress our laughter at her typical accent, of struggle to bear her, of struggle to see, hear, talk to her. It certainly is an endless strife.

She starts her lessons. Her typical south-Indian accent, flows out of her mouth, like the river Ganges (well, the Ganges does have polluted water). Her flower-like face (even a withered flower remains a flower), round in shape makes strange faces. If I were secret agent 007, I would certainly follow her, fight her extreme levels of intelligence with my abilities.

She says "A,P,B, [symbol for angle],[symbol for rectangle],x,y,z" and God knows what. "Blah, blah, blah, blah,......" She goes on and on and on and on and..................... Her mental frustration getting down at us. For the first time in my life, I regret joining the school, I regret attending the Maths period, Oh! was I born and brought up only to see this day!

She catches two boys talking and playing. They stand victorious. She scolds them out of the class, "You go now, out, out of the class,". Her sharp voice pierces my ears. They march out the class, those lucky ones. Oh! how jealous am I?

Seconds seem centuries, hours seem millenia. It certainly is a tiresome and tedious job. Well she goes on with her rubbish talk, useless theorems, meaningless words. Oh! If only I had not been educated, I would have not seen this day!

Seeing her I remember the news telecast, "600 children freed from bonded labour." Well I am myself a slave now. A slave of time. The Human Right's Commission I feel should certainly interfere in this matter, a certain violation of human rights, oh yes, thats what it is.

Time is running, it is runing, the clock is ticking, only 20 minutes have passed. Oh no! It cannot be just 20 minutes. It seemed years and years fo broedom. My watch I feel is running unusually slow today, yes, certainly it is running slow.

My ears long for the welcome ring of the electric bell, the one installed outside the classroom. That bell is certaily one of the greatest pranksters I have seen in my life. During the recess tiem when I don't ask it to ring, it ring's and now when I am really in need, it does not.

She's coming towards me, well I don't believe in filling my book with rubbish and she takes notice of my this good habit. I wonder, why does it not please her. After all, I am saving pages and in a way, helping in saving trees. We all know trees are necessary for a healthy environment. My ear experiences an extreme word of warning from her. [All of this is the fiction part. I never had any guts in school not write in the lecture. Case of chronic sincerity I guess!]

Hearing her lessons, I remember George Bernard Shaw. He had rightly said, "One who knows what to do, does, one who does not, teaches." It implies fully well on her [sic]. She is like....... like a nightmare come true. I remember seeing a bore film called a 'Satvan....' something or the other. It was very very boring. I left the theatre hall in the interval itself (it was my only chance to escape). Now, I am locked in the classroom, with every means to torture me, I dave a thought for the creator who created her and me. perhaps 'cause he wanted me to worship him for some reason, there certainly cannot be any other reason or was he extremely offended with humankind to send this angel of hell on earth.

Now, I hear the iron armature, hitting the gong, the bell has rung at last. The time of her 'sad' (rather) departure arrives. She leaves the class. From her face, it is clearly evident that she was enjoying herself, in an extremely cheerful mood, she departs and the whole class wakes up to the dawn of a new period (of Geography).

Tomorrow again, she will come armed with her Math book and overloaded with extra intelligence and inventing new ways to torture us to the full extent.

-[My signature goes here]
(Ankur Saraf)

(I do not intend to hurt anybody's emotions. I have written this essay only for fun and it should not be misunderstood - [My signature goes here])

[I was still chicken of the said teacher finding this essay circulating in class while I was busy in my comment gathering spree]

Please write your comments on the adjoining page. Don’t forget to mention if the essay is worst, bad, O.K., good or very good.

[The adjoining page is a sad witness to the disinclination of my voracious readers to comment, that is another story I will come to in a moment]

“

This essay was broke all records that were susceptible to shattering in a class of 40. Perhaps, an (equally) awful understanding/usage of the English language coupled with an innate hatred of that monstrosity called school were to blame. Anyways, this spurred me towards promoting my essays from the rough book to a 200-page book of their own (The one which I stumbled upon recently).

Aware of the fact that no one in my class is Swiss or part of the NP committee, I ventured for outside opinion. I don’t know about the NP winning capabilities of my essays but they sure made workaholics of all my relations. All the adults I gave this book to, suddenly remembered all kinds of important work, the calls they were supposed to make, the ones which were waiting for them, by the time they reached the third page. By the by I also realized that Rabindranath Tagore was the only other Indian to have the NP honour and he had to wait a goddamn long time to get that thing. No wonder, he must have spent all that time trying to convince people to read his full book or so I thought. This effectively killed the bright young writer in me. :(

As for the aforementioned teacher, the last I heard of her was in FE when I learnt she died in a car accident. They had shown it on TV. I had my own two minutes of silence to pray for her.

Scribblings of a soon-to-be 15 year old - I

2006-04-20T20:39:00.000+05:30

Stumbled upon something today. An old essay book from school. NO! Not the Navneet style printed essay book with 'My favourite festival, colour, country, planet, toilet etc. '. It was the book where I had written some pretty 'un'academic essays, the first ones I was not obliged to write academically. Retrospectively, I don't find any signs of a budding genius in these essays :P (Though, in those days, I felt that the removal of the budding tag is an accurate description of my literature) and I shudder thinking of how I was the 'best' in English in the matriculation class of Umedbhai Patel English School.

I am documenting these here to preserve my ideas for posterity (who knows a future biographer may stumble upon it someday and document my legendary lifetime :P). And a warning to the regular readers of this blog (even those who are addicted to the trash I churn out!); before you consider reading this, consider the background of the author:

The writer is a soon to be 15 year old who holds great airs about being the best in English in his class. His experiences with literature encompass great authors like Enid Blyton and the Grimm Brothers. His readings include everything from Champak to Chandamama, from Hardy Boys to the Famous Five. His experiences with humour in the Queen's language have been confined to a one chapter excerpt from 'Three Men and the Boat' and he still equates Wodehouse with a habitation constructed from dead and hardened carboneous plant life.

Ok so here follows the first of the two essays from the book, with all the spelling mistakes and grammatical errors intact. [My comments, the present me I mean, are in square brackets like this one.]

"
[Page 1]

My book of absurd Essays
-Ankur Saraf

All the events and persons mentioned in this essay are fictional. Any resemblance to any person living or dead is purely co-incidental (and co-incidents occur too often)

Warning

This book is registered under the trademark of Ankur Saraf [This is followed by my signature]. No part of it may be printed or reproduced in any other form of binding or cover in which it is now without the prior permission of the author.

[Page 2]

Preface:-

I have written a few essays in this book on persons I have met and incidents (rather, accidents) in my life which I remember (dread). I hope you find it enjoying to read these essays. I have prepared a column in the last pages for your review. Please consider them. Happy reading.
-Ankur Saraf
P.S.:- You might find it a little difficult to understand my handwriting. [This is one situation which has only taken the downward path since then. Thankfully a computer and keyboard are here to help.]

[Page 3]

Index
1) The elocution competition Pg.No.1
2) My Maths Teacher Pg.No.10
(As seen from the eyes of Ankur Saraf)

[Page 4]

The elocution competition

The day started as any other. I got up lazily at 6.40 in the morning, got ready for school unaware of the disaster that was going to befall me on this very dreaded thursday of 16th Sept 1999. We had a half day at school due to an elocution competition to be held in the school. I lazed away my time at school with the boring lectures [Somethings never change, do they?] being delivered by one of my teachers I disliked. Joking and passing time, the disaster was approaching near. [sic]

Time sped up. We were asked to wait in the school compound. Our class teacher had informed us that we were given the 'privilege' of being audience to the event (which would mark history and of course I needn't explain why?). One of our teachers had been given the responsibility (dreaded by everyone, the teacher of course) to see to it that we don't play truant and spoil their plans of spoiling our day. My teacher announced that the 'privilege' would be denied to us because of the lack of enough seats but the 1st three rankers were granted the calamitous oppurtunity. (unfortunately, I was one of them.)

I marched towards the hall where a batch of the greatest orators known till now waited for the competition to start. The competition started as soon as we arrived (hunters always wait till they get their guns ready and innocent animals slowly approach the most terrible trap set for them)

First, the juniors were called on to deliver a 3-minute speech (of course, 3-minutes wasn't the real time. I certainly felt the timer's watch running slow).

I was given the first taste of the hunter's gun. Then we were all asked to clap. (After all, the formality had to be finished like it or not). I could easily go over 2 or 3 speeched but the whole lot of 15 was lying in ambush to attack my 'tiny' [you will understand this if you see me!] little self.

The sharp woices attacked my ears and went right to my head which slowly started aching. I tried to stop this using a handkerchief but they excelled in the art of carrying forward with the only thing they had got to do. The only aim of their life seemed to bore me to the full extent. The voice on the mike grew louder and louder. Blah, blah............ went on their non-stopping mouths. The only one I liked was the one who said nothing. The first prize should have been awarded to him (in the name of humanity)

Seconds seemed hours. Minutes passes like centuries. Many millenia passed till one by one they tortured me mentally. Compulsory, literal mental torter [sic] of the highest service was served
before me with a kind cruelty. To top it all, a teacher was made to sit behind me, all parts of a pre-made plan.

The luckiest person seemed to be the chief guest. She ran away during half the competition.

Then the senior group started. I had been tired to a great extent and the noblest thing I could think about was to kill the organiser, call my best friend Dracula to suck every drop of blood out of him, kill his friends, relatives everyone, to down his house and sing comic songs on his grave. It was my moral responsibility to save my fellow spectators from this calamity.

Hitler should have called these people in his concentration camps to torcher the POW's and take my word for it, every piece of information would be lying at his feet. And the Mumbai police could certainly make good use of them.

I saw before me, each of them passing by, a demonic smile on his lips. What humour was, I didn't see. My objective now was to reach home alive. I kept thinking of this beautiful world and how less I have seen of it. My science teacher (who was sleeping a quiet sleep with a serene and divine look upon her face) had explained us that mental stress often led to heart-attack.

The deadly giants of the devil himself had started hitting my ears. I began to feel sick, ill, my time, I felt had come. Suddenly, the prizes were announced. The judges had been the expectators [sic] of the trauma. The prizes were given to those who persecuted [sic] their task with perfection. But, I think, the audience were really worthy of being rewarded for going through these demanding situations. One of the participants spoke on child labour in inhuman conditions very similar to the present situation. Now, the golden words were uttered, "The programme is over, thank you.". Well I thought I ought to thank them for letting me out of this tedious experience. I rushed out, a bird freed from a cage, proud of my brave self.

-[My signature went here]
(Ankur Saraf)

[Something I added later as an afterthought. It is written with different pen.] Please register your comments on the adjoining page after filling the details and please don't forget to mention if the essay is worst, bad, O.K., good or very good. For eg.
Name:- A. Saraf Sign:- [My sign]
Remarks:- O.K. ............

[The 'adjoining page' is quite hopelessly empty]

"

And if you thought the above post was not worth blogging about, you are not getting the job of my biographer. Get that? :P This essay was written in my rough book the day after the elocution day. The girl sitting next to me read it and passed it on in the class. I had got some pretty good comments on my rough book, sufficient enough to egg my soon to be 15-year old ego, to write a another essay.

Goodbye ! Goodluck !

2006-04-20T16:21:00.000+05:30

It was a fine morning. I was sitting, my neice was tugging the corner of my shirt (hellbent upon making my PC a guinea pig for her 'My first computer' practical sessions) and my aunts had a nice conversation running in the background. I was arranging a seat for myself in the crowd, warding off my crying neice, ignoring my aunts, checking emails, cursing spammers, when suddenly yahoo buzzed. I was not in a great mood to chat but the conversation turned more interesting than the 'Hello dude wassup?' kind. My internet connection, acutely distressed by this blasphemous act, rebelled and fainted. Next thing I know, Akshat posted it on his blog. This is the reason for this blog. I wasn't going to write all this but what the heck!

17th April 2006, or last Monday was the last day BE Electronics collected in the classroom as a class. I realized this fact later that day, while having dinner (Four submissions and eight hours of non-stop writing leave you weirdly numb, don't they?) Strangely for many, and rather not-so-strangely for me, I was feeling kind of happy. I could remember the other farewells I have had. The time I had to leave school, I was a bit sad but also full of hope. Leaving Sathaye was kind of neutral, since I did not have time to spend time there. No feelings. But leaving SPCE was different. I was positively happy I was going. I was also kind of sad, but not about leaving. I was more sad I had to stay on this long. Four years is a pretty long time you know. An especially long time if you have endured it and not enjoyed it.

But lets begin from the beginning.....

I still remember the day I had entered SPCE for the first time. After all, one had to submit the forms for engineering admissions. Long queues, badly managed, perhaps it should have given me the hint. But I too awestruck at that moment in time. And awe inspires imperviousness. I still considered it a privilege to walk on the hallowed corridors of this superhuman structure.

(I had put in this post as a draft. Perhaps stopped writing because of some interruption and did not continue. Let us see if I ever get down to completing it.)

Testing Times!

2006-04-05T19:13:00.000+05:30

The tension in the air was palpable. The group of 40 were crowded around the door, waiting, with a bated breath. As the lights came on, the faces became visible. As the clock ticked, the numbers mounted. The trepidation on each face was increasingly evident. They were all waiting. Waiting for the watchman!

'I should not lose out this time. Perhaps, this would the last occasion I will have to attempt this. A last chance of being party to the stellar example of class unity.' My thougts were racing as I raced up the stairs. (Ok! Ok! I confess... It was more of dragging myself up!)

"Twenty-two", went the chorus I reached my destination. Many of my would be partners-in-crime had already arrived. The Counting was a feeble attempt in introducing a much-needed comic relief. It was exciting.

Beating the system is strangely pleasurable. The anticipation of popular rebellion is always shrouded in mystery. It never wears off. The initial excitement, the covertness of the act, the sense of achievement that follows, makes it worth the effort.

The strained muscles on the tired hands were conspicuous. After all, the weight of the book they had held, for more than an hour, could easily give a dumbell a run for its money. The Counting went on. With it, rose the impatience. Before the unity, came the competition. The seats were limited, the contenders - numerous. Mutual tolerance was not the first thing that dominated collective consciousness presently. As moment by moment passed, the jokes flew thick and fast. It was the jokes that highlighted the all-pervading stress. Underlined it.

The confused eyes stared at the alien figures; trying to make sense of the outlandish diagrams, attempting to remember the convoluted examples. 'Arre khali index padh le', sanity screamed from somewhere. I smiled.

9.00 a.m. - that was the time at which the test had been promised. But a gruelling examination had already commenced. A common thread spun through the crowd. An indomitable belief in their teacher's immutable methods. This was what had attracted them an hour before time. The door was bent, but not broken by the incident pressure. On display was some excellent engineering.

A spark of expectation ignited in the crowd. The imminent arrival of the treasured one fired hopes. The watchman climbed up.

'Yay', went the collective exclamation.

The saviour disappointed. He went past his waving fans. But he would return - they knew that. Patient. But he stopped. The armour of the knight lost its sheen. The mob intimidated him. The air was rife with the sense of adventure. Adrenaline was pumping in each body. He took a few courageous steps, towards the periphery - towards me. The pack made way for him.

It happened too fast then. 'Ankur uske peeche jaa..', shouted a voice. I sensed the opportunity and lunged for it. Before the sea became one, the Jews guided by Moses had crossed to the other end. The key went in. Click! The crowd screamed forward, easily rivalling any Virar local. Legs spattered over the wooden dias. First, second, third.... the fourth row, that was the place for me. I rushed, battling the oncoming pressure. The last one was gone. But I was not late yet....

Exhilaration. Ecstacy. I had conquered the second last bench. My fiefdom was established. In half a minute, the class was full. Victory crowned my forehead. My eyes were shining and my hands were trembling, still incredulous of my brave attempt. Finally, passing in today's class test seemed a distinctly realizable possibility.

Dil Dhoondta hai....

2006-03-27T23:42:00.000+05:30

'Dil dhoondta hai, phir wahi fursat ke raat din
Baithe hue tasavvur-e-jaana kiye hue.....'

Bhupinder was crooning on RadioCity. It was a few days before the IIM Lucknow GD/PI. I had heard this song many times before, but never before could I relate to it better. My heart searches for those days of leisure - 'woh fursat ke raat din'. That I would have a lot of 'fursat' in hand a few days later was my optimistic attempt at self-consolation. The past days had been hectic. In fact, the past year had been hectic. And one hell of a hectic year. I started leafing through the pages of my memory. In search of the time that had flown away..... and left in its wake, an eventful year bursting towards the end. Eventful and hectic, perhaps I have chosen the correct words here. You decide.

March - May

Jaadon ki narm dhoop aur aangan mein letkar....

I can still remember last March and my frustrating efforts at trying to master the intricacies of the English Grammar with the Cambridge English Skill Builder. Ten days of bunking college and studying for TOEFL. Cannot call it hard work but whatever it was, it paid of in the end with a perfect score on the TOEFL. My only regret, this score does not matter at all to the admissions committee, so maybe whatever it was, it did not pay off that well. Then came the painful realization that even though I have postponed my GRE to August, I will still have to study to study for it sometime. But because I ha developed procrastination to a fine art, I didn't have any problems ignoring studying for the GRE.

April came knocking and with it a few shocks as project groups were formed. Class politics does not stop anywhere. I decided even I want to do a project. A new realization also dawned that scoring marks is the way to meaningful life. I also discovered that Ghalib was one of India's most famous poets.

May the great God repeat last may this May. I did something then I have shunned ever since. Studying for the exams. The almost daily guiding sessions with friends helped me remember that I have to pass, maybe also score, this semester. As the exams began, for perhaps the first time in my life, I experienced not regretting not studying in the PL.

June

Aankhon par kheench kar tere Daaman ke saaye ko...

"No vacations this time!". Those were my first thoughts as I read about the upcomig campus placements. I went around collecting interview tips and sifting through the sand for my 'resume'. Being reduced to a single page, didn't help especially help ease mental stress but had to live with it. Shakuntala Devi replaced Dan Brown as the author of the season for most of the crowd. (It seems Infy questions were 'inspired' by that book.) Apparently both TCS and INFY had lots of places for communication-skills-disasters, so I was accepted at both places (inspite of the pitiful interviews whose transcripts I will not blog!). Immediately after my acceptances arrived, I rushed for my internship (If you can call two-three weeks of timepass an internship). The tension of the impending GRE, now less than 45 days away, was gnawing into me. Trudged along to Vashi everday, pitifully trying to mug wordlists, day by day, everyday.

July

Aundhe pade rahe kabhi karvat liye hue

July held lots for me other than July 26th. Intership ends. Full-on GRE mode. Come to terms with the fact that I need to write essays now. Other facts too dawn on me : wordlists really do not matter and the no-logic required b******* they teach in GRE classes (mine was IMFS) is just that. Realize that I have enough potential to score in the GRE as I know the meaning of b*******. Start writing essays in all earnestness. Then comes 26th July, which told me that I can live in stress. Even if only for a day, but I can keep my cool when required. It also told me that Mumbai is not all that bad, after all. I also started reading Ghalib.

August

Ya garmiyon ki raat jo purvaiyan chale...

My essays improved with time. And effort. D-Day came and went. I don't know whether I changed but the world around me sure did. The class next day was a welcome surprise. From being a non-entity, I was directly catapulted to the hall of fame. I remember around 30 people congratulating me in a space two minutes. My 15 seconds (or rather 2 minutes) under the sun. Either these people had no idea how little the GRE score mattered or they were just being good for the sake of it. I suspect the former, as I suffered from the same ignorance. I love double helpings of everything and providence was feeling bountiful. I received my highest score in engineering till now. Nothing that great relatively but still great. Relatively.

The rest of the month was spent adjusting to college and life post-GRE.

(I had my first thoughts about starting a blog when I experienced this month. The details are still etched out in my memory, of my imaginary posts on my imaginary blog.)

September-October

Thandee Safed chadron par jaage der tak...

Early september was spent gloating over the astonished faces of counsellors as I told them my GRE scores. Finally decided I have to start applying and have to 'build' a profile. There are supposed masters of this art in existence. Then there are those who suffer from ethical qualms. But ethics are expendable. Was into 'Ghalib' by now.

I was talked into trying the CAT too. Just to get the feel you know, if the MS stuff does not work out. That would give me sufficient ground to plan for next year. Also appeared for my first Sim-CAT. Didn't even know about what or how many questions does the CAT have. Then I saw my first result. Seriously thought that IMS has goofed up its checking. Also realized one warm sunny day what Nehru meant when he critically analyzed Aurobindo's statement "The pure virgin moment."

Built my profile in October. Did little else. (Profile-building is not an easy exercise you know. This was also the first year I forgot my own birthday while busy in this task.) Was disabused of my notions about the GRE. Also reconsidered my decision to apply for MS for the umpteenth time. Another claim to fame this month. A seventh rank on the 'black list'. But it had more white on it than black I think. Gloated again on reading encouraging replies to my query on the CAT yahoogroup.

November

Taaron ko dekhte rahen chhat par pade hue

A new low for me. Knew nothing except for the subject names for all my vivas. CAT fever rose exponentially. I knew the tables from 1-1o by now. With only 5 days left, 11-20 was not worth it. Learnt the binomial theorem on the last day. Who knows.... CAT day came. It did not go away that easily. I tried finding the perfect answer-key amongst the ones floating around in the inane media-frenzy. Failed miserably and gave up hopes on CAT. CAT went to the dogs (couldn't resist the pun! sorry!). Exams arrived. Studying helped. Friends helped. CAT did not help.

December

Barfeelee sardiyon mein kisi bhi pahad par...

Exams came to an end. I knew I am not going to score well. But just did not care. No time for caring. University deadlines were approaching and my packets were still not ready.
Worked. Worked fast. Worked sloppy. But worked. Mourned the funeral of another so-called vacation. Came to know that the US of A celebrates Christmas in a big way. Most univs are closed and application packets jammed. Stopped reading Ghalib in frustration.

January

Waadi mein Goonjti hui Khamoshiyan sune....

10, 9, 8, 7...... I was fervently counting the number of universities left for applying. Finally this uncompletable task is nearing a finale. My tired eyes were searching for a much needed relief. It was mid-January when I realized that I will be busy wasting this whole semester too. I was just left with two universities when I got the CATcalls. I almost groaned in happiness. Spent the next day trying to locate Kozhikode on the Indian Map. Also remembered I have a project to do. College started like a rickety BEST bus stuck in the first gear. I did not start. CAT results again brought a flurry of congratulations, many through email this time. Someone wished me 'Happy Republic Day'. I started blogging.

The IMS achiever's batches also started. Gloated again on being called an achiever. Realized pretty desperately that something has to be done about the project. Started reading Ghalib's biography. Stopped gloating after an IMS mock interview with Gaurav Sabnis and the 'VJTI guy'.

February

Aankhon mein bheege bheege se lamhe liye hue

Wiped my sweaty forehead. Had a bout of incomprehension the first time I started reading ET. Realized I will have to miss the industrial visit. Mourned it. Also spent time inventing curses for IIM Lucknow. Finished reading Ghalib's biography. Was desperate for a change of atmosphere. Started attending college.

The interview process started. I thought I am the lost one. Dawned on me that I am simply a lost one. Battled the deprivation of exclusivity. Also received the lowest percentage of my life in the penultimate semester (it happened right when my IIM K interview was on). Had a few enoyable moments at IITB. Tried to emulate those everywhere.

March

Dil dhoondta hai....

Bhupinder was repeating his lines now, lines of Gulzar inspired from a ghazal of Ghalib. All said and done there was nothing more he could say. As for me, I was waiting, searching.

The Present

The class was enjoying Rajasthani deserts and the invisible tigers of Ranthambore while I mulled over Chidambram's budget. But this would end. It would end on 18th of March with IIM I over. Then I can start being me again. The tribulations shall cease. The celebrations will begin. Life will be fun. The world will be stress-free. I will enjoy the final semester to the hilt. While I was engrossed in my Utopian dreams, 18th came. I enjoyed the next day, a Sunday, still dreaming of the fursat ke din ahead.

I went to college frothing with joy and drooling with hope the next day. After the customary 'How did the interview go?' questions, the barrage started.

'Arre Monday ko PE ka assignment submit karna hai'

'Robotics ka journal market mein aa gaya hai'

'Tera DCN likhke hua?'

'Next week mostly class test hai. Mecha kitna likhna hai kuchh maloom hai kya?'

'Yaar project vivas next month hain. Kitna khatam hua hai?'

I started writing. There was no time for waiting or searching. There was no time. The only thing I could remember was, 'Dil dhoondta hai phir wahi fursat ke....'

Guesswork does not work (at IIM Indore) - Part II

2006-03-25T03:01:00.000+05:30

Recap: (Refer the previous post) I go to Vashi for my IIM I GD/PI in a miserable condition. The GD is relatively good coz it was equally miserable for everyone except one guy. Waiting outside for the PI to start. Random numbers being called in....

......my impatient friend was imploring me to beg the panelists to take me in. I was dissuading him from encouraging me towards such drastic steps when I sensed the presence of P1 in the waiting room.

P1: “Ankur Saraf”
Me: “Yes Sir”

Followed him to the sanctum sanctorum, the interview room which I had left 3 hours ago, just after the GD. My eyes were brimming with nostalgia on being reminded of this peaceful, Gandhian gd. But I controlled myself somehow.

Me: “Good morning Sir” (To both of them)

P1: “Please hand me your certificates”.
Me: “Sure Sir” (Handed over the ‘certificate’ file with a grand total of two certificates)

Me waiting. No questions for 20 seconds. Me smiling and staring. P1, P2 reading.

P1 suddenly realizes that in an interview, they are supposed to ask questions. He sort of nudges P2 (Like saying, “Arre I don’t know what to ask him, you start. I want to do a doctorate on his two certificates.”)

P2:(In a tired tone) “So what does your father do?"
Me: Repeated same old answer. Since he just asked this question to gain time, he didn’t listen that carefully. Carried on for about a minute.

P2 suddenly sees my hobbies page and does everything short of jumping with excitement. (which for an IIM prof. is a wry smile). With this also starts my extensive exercise in grave-digging. (Warning: No useful information ahead. Read further only for the purpose of entertainment.)

P2: “So you like listening to ghazals?"
Me: (F***, he knows what ghazals are? Mar gaye yaar! Band baja dega! Arre sir, just above that I have written reading books. Please read that.) “Yes”

P2: “Name all the ghazal lyricists that you know."
Me: (its high time I started screwing up my case, and I do not disappoint myself) “Gulzar, Hasrat Mohani, Daag Dehlvi, then Ghulam Ali Sahab writes his ghazals, even Mehndi Hassan writes his ghazals…”

P2 (surprised) : “Mehndi Hassan writes ghazals? Are you sure”
Me (pretty happily) : “Yes!” (have dug a 2 feet deep grave by now)
P2 : (I gave you one chance. Now don’t blame me.) “Name one ghazal which Mehndi Hassan has written.”
Me: (Abey yaar, woh sahib aisi urdu mein gaate hain ki padhne sunne ka waqt hi nahi milta) “I don’t listen to Mehndi Hassan but I have read on an online forum that he has written some of his ghazals” (6 feet deep now)

(Let me clarify a bit here. Mehndi Hassan and even Ghulam Ali are basically trained classical vocalists and do not write ghazals. What I had actually read was that they had composed some of their work. What they had actually done was compose music. I didn’t know that during the interview.)

P2 : “Have you ever heard of Javed Akhtar?"
Me: “Yes. He is one of the most famous lyricists of Bollywood.” Take a stupid pause of 1 second. “If you want to think of other ghazal lyricists, then there’s Ghalib, Faiz….”

P2: “Tell me about the writing style of XYZ."
Me: (Never heard that name. A bit shocked)”Sir, I have no idea”

P2: “You have heard the name or you have not even heard the name?”
Me: “I have not heard the name.” Thought lets clear all the muck up. Otherwise I will only move into deeper shit. “Actually, I started listening to ghazals only about an year ago. I was introduced to this through the internet. I usually go to online forums to get recommendations about which albums are good and then go and get those. I usually listen to Jagjit Singh and my favourite album is Mirza Ghalib. I have gone and read many of Ghalib’s ghazals on the internet as well as listened to other recitations of his ghazals.” (Forgot to mention the main thing that holds attraction for me here, the structure of the ghazal. With that I also lost an opportunity to steer the PI towards safer waters.)

P2: “What is the organization concerned with preserving Ghalib’s heritage?”
Me: “I don’t know”

P2: “What was Ghalib’s full name?” (The condition’s real bad now, he is asking me names!!)
Me: “Mirza Assdullah Beg Khan. Some people say its just Mirza Assadullah Khan as Beg was the name of his father.”

P2: “What language did Ghalib write in?”
Me: “He thought Persian is a better language compared to Urdu, so his early writings are in Persian. But in his times, no one understood Persian, so he turned to Urdu. His most famous work, the Diwan-e-Ghalib is in Urdu. But Ghalib always believed that Persian is superior.”

P2: “So what was the time he wrote all this? Which period?”
Me: (Thinking about whether it was early or late nineteenth century) “The nineteenth century”

P2: “What is the lane where Ghalib lived in Delhi called?”
Me: (Arre Sir! I have not yet completed my Phd. on Ghalib. Will inform you when I do that) “I don’t know.”

P2: “I asked that because it’s near a very famous monument”
Me: “Actually I have read a book on Ghalib and it does not mention any great monument in his lane. So I have no idea.”

P2: “Tell me universities which have their names based on a religion.”
Me: “Banaras Hindu University and Aligarh Muslim University. Then there’s also Maharishi Veda University in the US but not too sure about that. However, I am sure about Banaras Hindu University and Aligarh Muslim…”

P2: “Where is Aligarh?”
Me: “In UP”

P2: “Varanasi is also in UP. Tell which which river flows through both these cities?”
Me: (Cursing my lack of foresight while studying geography at school, I venture with a guess) “The Ganges”

P2: (in a playful mood since my Mehndi Hassan answer, is smiling) “ Are you sure? Is it not the Yamuna?”
Me: (Geography shud really be made compulsory reading in college!! Accept my guesswork) “I am not sure. I took a guess. But I still think it’s not the Yamuna but the Ganges. You see Varanasi is a place where it’s considered holy to get cremated for the Hindus, and it’s also considered holy for you to immerse the ashes in the Ganges, so…”

P2: (Guesswork!! Let’s see how far it can take you?) “From where does the Ganges start?”
Me: (still left with a trace of bravado, I am trying to recollect where Gangotri is situated, UP or Uttaranchal) “The starting point is called as Gangotri.” Stop here like a dumb idiot

P2: “And where does it end?”
Me: (having utilized all my risk taking capabilities by now) “ I don’t know.”

P2: (He is really enjoying himself by now) “Arre take a guess. Any guess.”
Me: (Thinking about how geography can be included the already heavy engineering syllabus) “If I take a guess, I am not sure, but think it would be that it goes through West Bengal and then meets the Bramhaputra and then goes through that big delta.”

P2 is apparently satisfied that he’s tried and tested all my guesswork skills. He starts giving me a smile, as if I have just made a big joke. I think he was thinking, “How did this idiot get such a CAT Score?” Now he has his answers. Indicates to P1 that he is over and done now. P1 has also finished admiring my two certificates by now.

(Now starts the acads part. And for once, I think I did not do that bad. Reason being, all acads asked were out of syllabus ;-) )

P1: “Ankur you must have seen tubelights. (No I haven’t. I prepared for CAT in moonlight! That’s how I became a lunatic!!) Now new tubelights have come up which have no chokes. How do you think a tubelight can work without a choke?”
Me: (Control the urge to shout out of syllabus. I am also thinking that chokes have probably choked themselves out of existence. What else do you expect with such a suicidal name?) “A choke is necessary to provide the initial high voltage to start the tubelight. So all tubelights would need a choke. We cannot make a tubelight without a choke.” (Bright answer that, seems I have started with my coffin)

P1: “But chokeless tubelights exist. So as an engineer how do you analyze it?”
Me: (Me – engineer – Thank you sir!) “They may have made the choke small and must have hidden it somewhere. Behind the tube, on the sides, maybe even inside the tube. The choke cannot be done away with.”

P1: “It cannot be inside the tube. The tubes are the same as normal tubes.”
Me: “Actually I have only seen one advertisement of chokeless tubelights. That was a long time ago. But I would still say, they manage placing the choke out of sight rather than totally removing it.”

P1: (smiles slightly) “Tell me how fuzzy logic is used in washing machines?"
Me: (I know of fuzzy logic. It rings a bell. My logic is always fuzzy-wuzzy. But it’s used in washing machines! That’s news!) “I do not know the answer. Fuzzy logic is not part of our formal curriculum (finally blurted that out) but I would still like to think (better word for guess) of how it would be used. (P1 encourages me here to go on with the all the b******t I had in mind.) In the conventional digital logic we have only two levels 0 and 1. Fuzzy logic defines levels between the 0 and 1. So here I think the complexity of the circuit would increase but the no. of bits required would decrease. There would be better computation. It’s used in microchips in the washing machine.” (By this time I knew I cannot even guess properly, was smiling all the while as I answered)

P1: (Gave a spontaneous smile. And he really smiled. It was not one of those artificial inhibited ones but a full-fledged from the heart smile at my feeble attempts in reconciling fuzzy logic with washing machines.) “Let me give you a hint. It’s also used in refrigerators. Try to think of something”
Me: (refrigerators, washing machines, what are they? I live in the technical Stone Age. Questions should be scrapped as being discrimatory towards disadvantaged applicants.) “Sir, actually the only thing I know about fuzzy logic is a one line definition on the internet. So maybe its used for defining different levels where multiple levels are used. Like you can have different levels of washing or temperature in a refrigerator.”

P1: “Ok. What would happen if I leave the refrigerator door open.”
Me: (The rich fool who does dat deserves a fat electricity bill!! And he should buy everything from me. I wouldn’t need to go to an IIM to earn money then) “It would put a lot of load on the compressor. A refrigerator has this whole system with the coolant being used to take heat from the inside to the outside the refrigerator, transfer the heat energy. The load of maintaining the temperature falls on the compressor. So the life of the compressor will decrease.”

P1: (thinks a bit.) “That is right. What else will happen?”
Me: (stare stupidly while contemplating if I should reveal the get-rich-quick plan his question inspired)

P1: “what happens to the temperature… of the room?”
Me: (Great. Where do you think I have come from? Kindergarten. No one will say its gets cooler!!) “Sir, as I said before, the coolant only transfers heat from the inside of the refrigerator to the outside, so the effective temperature will remain the same. Maybe temperature just outside the refrigerator door will decrease but nothing else will happen!”

(Again a bit of clarification. I very confidently gave the wrong answer here. The temperature of the room increases due to heat produced from the compressor’s working. And this is supposed to be a famous question. And there I was…. thinking of kindergarten questions)

P1: “How do air coolers work? How do they cool the room?”
Me: (assuming air coolers is air conditioners) “It’s the same principle as the refrigerator. Only here the coolant transfers the heat to outside the room. So the room becomes cooler. It takes in air, cools it and then gives it back in.”

P1: “The cooler works this way? It only gives air out. Does not take it in.” (He has a puzzled look on his face.)
Me: (tubelight jali. Remembered the coolers I had seen in Rajasthan at age 5, when life was cool) “By coolers, do we mean air conditioners?”

P1, P2 shake their head in unision.
Me: “Then are those the coolers found in Rajasthan?”

P2: (Cautiously) “What kind of coolers do they use in Rajasthan?”
Me: “The ones with the straw mats drenched in water and a fan behind the straw mat.”

P1,P2 both nod in unision. “Yes that’s it.”
Me: (Thinking furiously as to how they work.Want to figure it out at any damn cost.) “Sir, I was very small when I had seen those. They have pretty dry summers over there and so this provides some humidity” (Dimag mein ek ghanti baji… Continue without breaking the flow..) “and when the water evaporates, it takes some heat with it. So the room gets cooler.”

(Got it right this time. P1 was satisfied.)

P1: “And how do air-conditioners work?”
Me: (Happy at getting a repeat question. Harped again about coolant, air going in hot and coming out cool funda.) “…… So it transfers the heat from inside to outside the room.”

P1: “That’s why you have that thing jutting out of air-coditioned rooms.”
Me: (So you came to know how I guessed this one! Big deal!) “Yes, that is the reason.”

P1: “In a cpu, you have different circuits requiring different supply voltages and only one main power supply. You have seen the inside of the cpu, right? Like you have the ram, the….” (started thinking… I was happy I am not the only one at a loss for words)
Me: “Like the fan, the hard disk, the microchip..”

P1: (continues) “Yes yes, so how do we provide different voltage supplies for all these different voltage levels with the one incoming supply.”
Me: (Sir, I am not electrician, as you said I am an electronics engineer. Why don’t you come to GSM/CDMA, AM/FM, TRAI and the rest of the things?) “We can use a rectifier and a voltage-shifter to provide all the different voltages.”

P1: (Didn’t understand me) “How will this take care of different voltages?”
Me: “See, we can use a rectifier for converting ac to dc and then the voltage shifter to shift dc levels. That way all voltages can be provided for.”

P1: (He is smiling again. But this smile is merely an amused one, not like the spontaneous one he gave earlier) “Have you ever seen this circuit inside the CPU?”
Me: (smiling again..) “No Sir. In fact, I don’t know how it’s actually done. I was just thinking of one way in which we can do it.”

P1: (He was apparently enjoying a display of my guessing skills.) “Tell me what would happen if a chip receives more than the maximum voltage specified.”
Me: (Again thinking furiously, time for some creative guesswork, I guess) “With the voltage, the current inside the chip would increase. So, the power dissipated would increase and the chip would burn out.” (Not quite satisfied with this, both P1 and me, so I start guessing again) “And the transistors in a chip are placed in such a way that electrons do not cross over from one area to another. But with high voltage the electromagnetic forces (sometimes I surprise even myself!!) become stronger with electrons jumping across regions and this will lead to chip malfunction” (Wah! Wah! Kya thoka hai! No one would think this is an IIM interview going on.)

P1: (Looking towards P2 for implicit approval) “Thank you Ankur. And best of luck.”
Me: “Thank you”

Now you would think I would be happy that this ordeal came to an end, but I was mighty disappointed. There was a plate full of biscuits infront of the panelists and the biscuits outside were over. So I was more of expecting a “Thank you and please have a biscuit”. But this didn’t happen and I was getting up, pretty dejected.

P2 : (kind of sensing my dejection, pointed towards the biscuit plate.) “Please..”
Me: (I was so goddamn happy. I gave a big spontaneous smile and picked up a cream biscuit, of the two present.) “Thank you!”

This sorta of woke P2 up. He returned the smile and I started with the biscuit as soon as my back was towards them. Even before I left the room.

Guesswork does not work (at IIM Indore) - Part I

2006-03-22T01:46:00.000+05:30

(The following is a record of my IIM Indore GD/PI process held on the 18th of march, 9.00 am, Vashi, Mumbai)

The final day, the final interview. Waste efforts on brushing up acads upto 3 in the morning. Wake up before the sun rises (5.30 am), travel early morning to Vashi (And 6.30 is really early by any standards, not just Ankur Standard Time). Breakfast at home. Breakfast again at Vashi. Result: A sleep deprieved IIM Indore interview with a bad case of stomach ache and an impending danger of flatulance. Couple that with a power failure at the Vashi Centre and you will have a faint idea of what my condition was like. However, flatulance is certainly something I am not afraid of. I can always try farting my way through in an interview, like I tried in this one. It stank.

Reached the Vashi Centre at 8.30 am, a rather non-descript building of IICM going under the pseudonym of UTIICM. Found a guy from my college and also the IIT fellow I met during the IIM K process. We had nice time chatting about previous interview experiences and trying to ignore the conspicuous absence of electricity. After passing some quite ‘hot’ and ‘dark’ moments waiting for the process to start, I dared visit the loo (to adjust my tie infront of the mirror you idiot!!) and found it enlightened….. oops!! lighted with emergency lights. Anyways, the panelists then took the brave decision of starting the process at 9.15 ‘in the dark’. (There should be some deep metaphorical meaning in there. Tell me when you find it. My guess is: they feared having to skip lunch). So, at 9.15 am a panelist came out to count if any lucky bakra was to escape slaughter today. To his quite apparent delight, everyone was present. He went back happily. A minute later another panelist came in (the techie guy – lets call him P1 for convenience sake). 8 names were called out. I was 5^th and the IIT guy was 6^th (Finally, a known face in the group)

Another panelist (P2 – the ghazal lover) indicated each fellow’s seat and then sat down on his own. After everyone was settled P1 continued, “Please switch off your mobile phones (One guy had actually forgotten to do so!! Imagine a phone going ‘Dhoom Dhoom’ in the middle of the GD, would have been real fun). Keep everything except for a pen and your forms below your seat. We will distribute a case. You have a time of 5 minutes to study it. Then you will be asked to discuss it. After a discussion of about fifteen minutes, you will be instructed to stop and write a summary on the last page of your application form. Note that you are to write a summary of the discussion and not a summary of the case. (I cannot believe people can be this dumb!) Also note that you will be given instructions on when to start and stop. You will explicitly asked to do so (That’s to deter the smartasses!)”

We were given a page long case here. Covered with a rough sheet.

P1: “You can start reading the case now.”

All the eight guys started fervently. It was huge case with no particulars. Reading the whole case took about 4 mins. Points escaped me. Just noted down 2-3 vague points. Prayed that the IITB case-study scenario does not repeat. (For all my liking of philosophy, I do not really enjoy the disinterested viewpoint in a GD).

Guess what? My prayers were answered!! P1 gave us a signal to start and everyone did. No one had any idea of what to say. Everyone was ‘pointless’, to put it succinctly. There was only one instance, mark it, only one instance when more than one person seriously tried to say something. (Everyone had read their history books properly here. The Gandhian philosophy of non-violence had obviously had a deep impact on each soul.) Everyone was waiting for others to speak. As for my contribution, I sort of summarized each point when the discussion on that point was over and others happily nodded their heads. (I was nearly saved here. The power failure decided to end while the GD was on and I was in half a mind to shout ‘Yayyy’ like I did in school. However, better sense prevailed and the group was spared the trauma.) Only one original contribution from my side and that the group did not pick up. There was one guy, a doctor, who contributed some substantial points on the basis of which we managed to go on for 12 minutes. All of us did a lot of head nodding and agreeing in the GD. Total contrast with IITB. People were sensible here and the foot in mouth disease was absent. Around 12 minutes later, with all points exhausted, there was an eerie silence of about half a second. After that, the only female suggested that we summarize. (Smart girl!) The doctor started summarizing, “We can summarize the discussion as….”

P1(suddenly waking up): “Please start writing the summary.”

I had noted all points discussed and managed to write a point-wise summary of 6 points within 3 minutes.

P1: “Everyone stop now. Stop NOW. Now please attach the attested photocopies of your marksheets with the form. Also attach your admit card. ”

He collected the marksheets from everyone.

P1: “You will be called in for your interview in a few minutes. Please remain in the waiting room.”

I started waiting. I revised my form, my favourite books, studied the day’s newspaper, quizzed a friend about previous interviews and then decided that IIM I people are sadists. Yes, they are sadists. They called in people randomly for the interview. So the guy who is called in second last (like me) cannot do anything. And then to rub it all in, they serve biscuits, which I cannot take for fear that I will be called in while I am eating one (Now, I can sort of understand the logic behind calling us to Vashi – Sadism, pure and unadulterated). As the person after person went in and came out, I knew I was gonna be nailed. Acads. And the commonwealth games. That’s what they were interested in. My grave was dug. But little did I know that I need not depend on these. Grave-digging, especially of my own self is a core competency for which I don’t need to depend on the commonwealth games. I spent around half an hour mourning the fate of my yet-to-take-place interview. Then I decided, my stomach ache is more important and diverted all my attention towards it. But attention helps not, a belly in pain. I suffered in silence. I also cursed the IIM I fellows but this is no place to explore the minutiae of my verbal creativity.

The doctor and I were the only fellows left outside. And my impatient friend (he was done with his interview) was imploring me to beg the panelists to take me in. I was dissuading him from encouraging me towards such drastic steps when I sensed the presence of P1 in the waiting room.

P1: “Ankur Saraf”

Me: “Yes Sir”

(Will continue with the PI experiences tomorrow, no time to type now. Btw, I have really learnt the soap opera ending technique, so you can expect more of this.)

Part II continues here. A serious collection of do-not-try-at-home-without-adult-supervision kind of stunts.

It's a race no one can win!

2006-03-12T21:57:00.000+05:30

A new Saturday! A new weekend! Boring morning! 'Crash'ed afternoon. Saw crash at Glamour. And it is quite glamourous, only 40 seats, the Jana Gana Mana playing and a guy washed in alcohol sitting (read stinking) next to you. Anyhow, managed to go through the movie. It does not give opinions, only presents some incidents peppered with layers of meaning. Will not move into a review here. Others can do the job better. But I will certainly venture an opinion on why 'it' happens. (Yah! Like it matters - It does not but then little else does)

The grand reason is, the world is not much different than me. In fact they started copying me even before I was born, so that ‘racism’ could exist. And what do they copy from me? My love for laziness. My preference for simplicity. My hatred for complexity and chaos. I don’t know anything about the future and I hate that too. (Come to see, I hate a lot of other things including clean cupboards and good marksheets but this is no time for that.) The whole point is that the world is not full of people who can handle the complexity and chaos. We all love order and we arrange for it. Think about the classification of the animal kingdom and of the plant kingdom that we learnt in school. There are kingdoms, phyla, classes, orders, genera, species etc. etc. and all this somehow presents an order. So now when I see Magnifera Indica, I only have to look at its classification and I am presented with a list of its salient characteristics. That’s called order! I have no time for fighting chaos and discovering all the salient characteristics myself. And this does not stop at plants or animals for that matter. Every little thing is classified: from rocks and soil to demons, from slopes to extra-solar planets, from volcanic eruptions to........ people.

Yes, we also classify people. We do not have the time or the inclination to evaluate each on his own merits. So like magnifera indica tells me of its salient characteristics, being a black, white, brown, yellow tells me about the persons characteristics. Stereotypes are the convenience of an ordinary mind. (I would like to say lazy but when the whole world is lazy, laziness is ordinary.) Being such a lazy species, homo sapiens, while institutionalizing other classifications, have never been pretty good with human stereotypes, so they use class, color, religion and everything else in the sun for an ad-hoc classification. And are they always false? No. Most of the times, they are right. So the probability that a car thief is black, is more. But the problems arise when the generalizations are imposed on an individual. Its not a problem if you believe most terrorists are Muslims but it certainly becomes a problem when you see every Muslim as a terrorist. Can we move away from imposing generalizations on individuals? It is difficult but possible, I think. But will it happen? Yes, because as a community, humankind has the ability to analyze its actions.

Let me take the example of Hitler. I literally love that guy. I absolutely adore him! No, I am not one of the neo-Nazis and I don't know anything about his economic policies. Niether did I enjoy his cheap imitation of the Charlie-Chaplin moustache. What I adore Hitler for is that he brought hatred to its logical end. What he brought to fore were the racial prejudices inherent in our society. The world did not start hating Jews when Hitler was born. Anti-semitism has a long history. (Think Shakespeare's representation of Shylock) It was also widely practised in the land of the free, even in College admissions. Like 'Jews and dogs not allowed' in Hitler's Germany, 'Indians and dogs not allowed' was a frequently seen sign in British India too. But the Brits did not indulge in institutionalizing mass-murder. Hitler's actions caused the world to curb overt racial discrimination and even make it illegal. While Britain was fighting for democracy, it could not justify its occupation of India. The idea of free, fair, equal, non-racist gained great momentum because of Hitler's actions and we all owe him that much. The whole point is that while everyday racism is in our blood, we still balk at Hitler-style mass murder, like most on the early-day anti-semitic Europe and America. Humankind can understand if it has gone wrong somewhere.

But I digress to much from the topic at hand, so let me list the reasons why I believe racism will end one day:

1) We all know racism is bad (Thank you Hitler!). So we all try to avoid it. Period.

2) Globalization leads to homogeneity. As societies progress and start depending on each other, differences will iron out over time. Same people go well together.

3) Intermingling will lead to contact. Till I don't know anything about the 'other', there's apprehension. A Muslim friend put all doubts in my mind to rest about all Muslims being terrorists. So as we mingle more and understand each other, we stop categorizing. Hopefully.

That's it for today.

(Did you notice the fact that I love 3-point programs? Especially after the IIML interview. But I also love long pointless rants, so it offsets everything.)

Racism as defined by skin color also exists in India today. But it is more a baggage of our lack of confidence as a nation rather than discriminatory categorizing. More on it tommorrow.

Its just a matter of passing away!

2006-03-10T20:55:00.000+05:30

Warning: The content below may venture into minutely detailed graphic discussions and is recommended only for a mature audience. (And for the guys who are encouraged by the 'mature audience' part, sorry, no naked girls involved here!!) On an afterthought, it might also hurt some religious feelings.

I have been to a few social events. We have all been. There's the crowd of the 100 people. Groups of people standing together, phone numbers being exchanged, introductions being made, the budget being discussed. But there was a difference here, all of this was being done albeit in remarkably hushed tones. After all someone had just 'passed away'. Yup, that's right! All of these people had collected at one of the most remarkable social functions of all time. To celebrate death, to perform the last samskara of a human being's life (or the end of it). It seemed sorta hypocritical to me! Hey guys! Someone's just died. So stand aloof in philosophical agony!! Why the hell are you still immersed in the mundanity of life?

But then, I revised my opinions. After all if 100 people come together what do you expect them to do? Discuss the current topic? Discuss the horrors of death and love of life. I could almost imagine a conversation:

"You know my uncle, he had an accident, guts all spilled out on the road!! It was so gross!!"

"Woh to kuchh bhi nahi hai, my uncle toh....."

Before my imagination could complete this sentence, I decided the budget was infinitely better. Perhaps, we make an effort to collect a hundred people to ascertain mundanity. To walk away the gruesome reality that confronts us. Truly, this once you are alive, and then, you are dead! Dead! Kaput! Like the impromptu disappearing act of a magician's show! Only difference being you can never reappear like the magician on the show! And the 'you' suddenly turns into 'the body'. Ever noticed that? How everyone calls it a body, and does not name it by name. That certainly tells you something has changed quite dramatically. And we are so afraid of it, we don't even call it death. So, what's permanent becomes temporary! Like say passed away: It has that nice soothing effect of saying that the person has gone to a nearby paan shop and would return anytime now. Also evidence the 'kick the bucket' and closer home the 'tapak gaya', the colloquial rebellion finds its own escape from the grim reality.

(On a lighter note, if one exists, I find it very difficult to cry at such times. Especially when someone is mentions 'swargawasi' (heaven bound). I mean, Hey! hell is facing such a shortage of souls. I cannot remember anyone actually going there. And then there's the always the 'Ye kyun chale gaye?' (Why did s/he have to go?) which brings me to the question 'Why? Would it rather be you?')

But what about those who cannot run away. Like the guy in the crematorium, whose job is to adjust the 'bodies' on the funeral pyre. Or the fellow who sees to it that the whole pyre burns without much smoke. I read somewhere that human beings need humour for survival. Be it the workplace, the home, the marriage, the classroom, humour marks our very existence. I for once, would certainly be interested in the crematorium worker's humour. I mean what do joke about? 'Hey! You know that fat guy! He wanted to burn fat the whole of his life!', 'Arre! rain spoiled the day for that old lady!'. What do those people talk to their wives about? 'Honey! I burnt 6 bodies today! I feel so satisfied!'. And I shudder to think of it when they talk about job challenges. What a life!!

But perhaps living in the vicinity of death makes it mundane for them. Like doctors are immune to the sight of blood. Perhaps this is a sort of blessing in disguise which takes away the fear and awe that the 'end' inspires. You see, we are all afraid actually. In any community, the old are always more pious than the young. While this may have many reasons, one is certainly the imminent end of life. While the young age looks forward to life and freedom, gray haired wisdom is confronted by a death staring in the face. And when you think about it, you also think why take chances? I mean ok, you don't believe in heaven and hell. But, with whatever teeny-weeny chance it has, what if it turns out to be right? It would be a pretty clumsy afterlife, and the worst thing to hear would be, 'I told you so!'. So better try to wash off all the 'sins' while there's still time, just in case........

Again, it also proves that God does not exist. While everyone may argue that 'death' proves the existence of omnipotence, I stand firmly against it. Otherwise, why do people cry? Why isn't it considered as the ordinary business of life. Infact, why isn't it looked forward too. Think heaven, think advaita, think of 'panchatatva vileena' , think 'being one with the gods'...... We all know its false. That's why. It's all a load of balderdash we have created to comfort ourselves..... that's all I can think of. I see no one quite willing and happy to die. Hey! If it were all true, if heaven really has the kind of hoors or apsaras, a lot of men would die (pun intended) to go there. If I were really pious, I would spend my life preparing and raring to die. Life would be nothing but one big celebration in the welcome of death. So, yes death in a way proves our inherent disbelief in God.

But would I want anyone to cry when I die? Nopes! Simply because, all said and done, I do not realize where life ends and death begins. Though the brain dead can live on life-support systems, no one really thinks of them as living. No one calls them 'a body' too. So, they don't have life but are not dead too. Come to think of it, I am drawn to the fact that there is some inherent 'consciousness' which we call life. Its not the ability to walk or to talk but knowing when and how to talk and when and how to walk. Its the feeling that comes when you have really 'understood' something. It is something associated and enmeshed with thought. I know its vague, but I have only felt it and am remarkably poor of words at describing it. So, if life is thought, its about thinking, its about ideas. (Surely, its not about the body. The body is still there when I die, so why still call it 'the body'?) If life is about consciousness and about ideas, then no one can die. For ideas transform, change, pass on, enervate, rejuvenate but ideas never die. And all us participate in this amorphous world of thought, of consciuosness. Our existence is that tweak, that wrinke in this formless nebula! Bigger tweaks are in the form of the Buddha and smaller ones are like you and me. So, it all fits in. It's my concept of the Advaita, of being one with the Bramha. Because form does not matter, its just a device to bring about that tweak. Collective consciousness is something that lives on, forever. So, I am immortal and I celebrate my immortality.......

(Yes! So I am escapist!! Kill me for it! I never claimed sainthood anyways!)

Below 500 grams? Use Indian Post - Compulsorily

2006-03-08T20:47:00.000+05:30

"Arre aap chinta mat karo! main courier kar deta hoon, shaam tak pahonch jayega" (Don't you worry! I will courier it, it will reach you by the evening).

I had to collect my transcripts from Sathaye College and had asked a friend staying nearby to do so. I needed those immediately and was apprehensive and he was reassuring me about the efficiency of the courier service. And sure enough the envelopes reached me by 5.00, the same day. Now imagine if this service had not been there. The only option would have been to physically go and collect the envelopes from my friend. In the process wasting both time and money. From then on, I have used this service a lot of times: for sending mundane things like notes or books (the lighter ones).

Everyday lakhs of people in the cities use the courier service: for cheques, magazines, invitations, orders, receipts and everything else that requires assured and easy delivery. At about twice the price of the normal post, you get assured delivery within a day all over the city. As for the local post office, it is already understaffed and cannot deal with the volume of letters, delaying letters by weeks.

'The Indian Postal Act -1898' - is an archaic law, more than a century old. This Act gives an exclusive right to the Department of Post to carry letters. However, private couriers are allowed to carry documents. What differentiates letters and documents? To say pretty frankly, nothing objective. So, the courier companies use this ambiguity to their advantage, classifying anything and everything as a document. Are the people happy? You bet!! Except this group of happy and satisfied people excludes our law-abiding (at convenience) babus and ministers. I can almost imagine the smug face of a beauraucrat when he dug up a copy of this law while cleaning the basement. 'Aha! A solution to all our problems! For a change, lets follow the law, lets even tinker with it for our benefit!!' I can imagine the minister gloating when he hears of this bright flash, 'Haha! So the below 500 grams postal market is all ours!!' This is about all the thought that must have gone on in making this declaration.

Therein lies the problem. For while the world thinks of progess, the state looks towards the dictatorial powers vested in the executive to forward it's (politician's) business interests. Where it should encourage business, it creates protectionist environments to revel in monopoly. Where its role should be regulatory and facilitatory, it is invasionary and promotes irregularity. Where it should nurture competition and reward efficiency, it tries to get rid of the competition and is oblivious to the word 'efficiency'. Where it should take up the minimum duties and look forward to performing them well, it decides to everything itself and ends up doing a very clumsy job of it. And all this in the name of 'helping the poor', 'promoting social equality', 'rural development' et al. I almost throw up now when I hear of these reasons, especially from our policy makers.

Lets see who will be affected if the Act is passed this budget session:
- People like me and you who need to transfer documents urgently
- Weekly, monthly magazines that use couriers
- People sending applications, letters abroad
- Bills, cheques that are regularly passed on through courier
- Invitations that need to reach out with surety within a time limit
- The current postal structure, it cannot deal with the business it already has

In short, everyone. What the current courier system has done, is actually realize the potential of this business. Deals are made on mobiles and payments & orders pass through couriers. The example in the first paragraph that I had given is increased business. If this Act passes, the government will not earn more revenue it will only decrease business. This will start a new process of litigation, each side searching for loopholes. Even if the govt. wins at the end of the day, it would not be able to stifle this business lifeline. In a throwback to the license Raj days, it will carry on, illegally. The only poor to be helped would be our 'poor' babus and politicians. If it is not allowed to carry on (even illegally), it will discourage business and only create more problems.

Lets get this fact clear in our minds people. Good business is good for the poor too, in the short term and vastly better in the long term. It is good for the society in general. Development is not a zero sum game and the earlier we recognize it, the better. An argument that money earned in cities would be used in villages holds no water. Cross-subsidizing is one bright idea that does not work, as seen in the telecom sector. If there are inefficiencies in the system, like holes in a boat, plugs like the courier companies will come up. If you remove these plugs, the boat is only going to sink. The best option is to repair the boat. But to think about this would require a mental strain of five minutes and the mental ability of a five year old which our policy makers very seriously lack.

Lucknow is not conventional.......

2006-03-07T20:13:00.000+05:30

Times change and with it change people, cities, societies. The city of Lucknow is the middle of such a change, or so believes India Today. Got a first hand experience of this change today, through IIM Lucknow. No standard questions. No Why MBA? Why low acads? What strengths, weakness? Best of all NO ACADS. No general awareness too....... 'What the hell did they ask you then!!?' Read on. Maybe you can enlighten me to their motives. (I think I displayed my disregard for analytical skills with an unparalleled flourish, also gave practical demostrations of the foot in mouth disease)

Time management is not a strong point with me but I am proud to say that I reached a full half hour early before the GD/PI process. And on finding all seats occupied in the waiting lounge, spent my time in contemplations on the architecture of the Catering College (and why they couldn't have added more seats). At exactly 2.00, we were called to the first floor, Panel III. The exact same room where the GD/PI process of Kozhikode had taken place. Talking of coincidences, I was the third guy this time on too. There were a total of nine people (1 fellow was absent).

The GD topic was on 'The cost of living is going up and the chance of living is going down'. Had to write a 10 minute essay presenting our perspectives. Didn't write that good an essay. Mentioned customary platitudes that such a subject is likely to evoke. What we want from life and should better manage it etc. etc. Then the GD started. The discussion was not all that great. Tried entering 3-4 times but was cut down. Coincidentally 4-5 people started speaking everytime I started. Finally shouted out my point that the family structure is breaking down and the society is changing. This is causing psychological problems. Then as people were speaking of how we are suffering from technology, I brought in the point that life has improved if you consider the past 500 years. Also said later on that expectations too have increased so you may say demands on life have also increased. Final entry was reasonably good. People were converging to the point of the disparities that existed in the society, unequal and inefficient utilization of resources etc. Then I chipped in with my final comment, "What we can agree on is that to end all these disparities we need better management. As the motto of IIM Lucknow goes, "Suprabandhe Rashtra Samriddhi" meaning with better management towards a better nation. I think with better management at different levels, we can move towards a better individual, a better nation and a better society." Noise levels in the GD were high. There was no structure and no outcome. Pretty platitude heavy - with love, compassion, concern for the poor and even Maslow's heirarchy making cameo appearances. (Note to self: Keep soundbites ready for your neo-liberal arguments. 1000 word essays do not a GD make.) GD ended and they asked the guy who spoke least to summarize.

Then we moved on the interview stage. Refusing to learn anything from the IITB experience, I had not prepared acads even this time on. So, the time outside was spent dreaming about how they are going to fry/roast me? (But they did nothing of that sort; only baked me) Let me divide the interview into three parts.

Part I: Carry on Son. We are here to listen.

"Mr. Saraf ", that was Panelist 1 (the older goody goody guy) calling out my name.
Thoughtfully closed the door and went and took a seat.
"Good afternoon Sir", repeated 2 times for both the panelists.
"Can I have your certificates?", that was P2 (the younger I-want-to-stress-you-out-but-still cannot-fake-an-expression guy)
Handed over the certificates.
P1 :"Did you close the door?"
Me:"Yes sir"
P1: "So, Mr. Saraf, tell us something about yourself."
Me: (Went on with the usual directionless born in Bombay, first engr in family, like reading, ghazals etc.)
P1: "Who is your favourite ghazal singer?"
Me: (Arre yaar, books pooch naa)"Jagjit Singh"
P2: "Don't you think he is a bit too populist?"
Me: "You can call him populist sir but then his words are simple and when I try listening to a Mehndi Hasan or a Ghulam Ali, I am often not able to understand their ghazals."
P1: "Which is your favourite ghazal?"
Me: (suddenly forgot all about the Ghalib ghazals I had prepared for) "Woh Kagaz ki kashti, Woh baarish ka paani"
P1: "What is it about? Why do you like it?"
Me:" It's about nostalgia, the carefree childhood days. I have myself lived in a joint family and played with the kagaz ki kashti in the baarish ka paani. So I can identify with it."
P1: "So what is a ghazal?"
Me:"It emerges from Persian. The literally meaning is talking to a woman. A ghazal is one of the most structured forms of poetry. It's older than the sonnet"
P1:"So what is this structure all about?"
Me: Explained the structure though could not remember all the Urdu words but think I was able to convey the meaning.
P1:"Does anything similar exist in Hindi, along these lines?"
Me: "(Duh!) A ghazal is not specific to a language Sir. You just need to follow the rules. The Aga Khan has written ghazals in English. Many of Jagjit Singh's ghazals can be classified as Hindi ghazals."
P1: "Ok! So its language independent."
P2: (Has gone through the certificates by now) "What is Kornovian equilibrium?"
Me: (Oh my God! Electronics is so very mysterious. I didn't even know this existed.) "I have no idea Sir."
P2: "But it says you have a certificate for Game Theory. You should know about it. It's basic."
Me: "Sir, that was not a theoretical event but involved practical negotiations." Tried explaining the event but they were not interested.
P2: "Can you tell me about Prisoner's Dilemma?"
Me:(IITB kuchh to kaam aaya!!) Explained. Better than in IITB this time. Both nodded their heads
P2: "What is Catch 22?"
Me: Explained the situation as given in Joseph Heller's book. About Yossarin's Dilemma where whatever he does, he will have to fight as a pilot. He cannot run away from it.
P2: "Why is it 22. What's the exact definition?"
Me: "Sir, I think 22 is an arbitrary number. Throughout the book, the catch is not defined as such. It's only mysteriously mentioned that there's the catch-22"
P2: "So you never tried finding out why its 22?"
Me: "Sir, I searched on internet forums, dicussed with friends, relatives, No one seemed to know this." (Guys, mad as I may be, I had actually done all this. No one really knows why the Catch is Catch -22) P2 thought I was bluffing as I would have done in his place.
P2: "Have you ever faced a Catch-22 situation in your life?"
Me: (Thought a bit) "No Sir. In life, I have always had the opportunity to take my decisions which have affected my future. I did not face a case where my decision or action did not matter."
P2: "Let me give you a situation. Suppose your interview is over and you go out of this room. As you go down you see a student very secretively taking something from a lab and hiding it in his shirt. The way he is acting you think he is stealing something. What will you do about it?"
Me: "Sir I will approach him and try to strike up a conversation. I will ask him about the college and wat they do in the lab (and I think I said vagere vagere in Hindi at this point in time). During the course of the conversation, I will ask him what do you use that thing you put in your shirt for? Maybe he will get the message or give me a reason for what he was doing."
P2: "No. He is in a hurry and you do not have time for a conversation."
Me: "Then I will not go about in a long winded way. Maybe directly ask him wat is he carrying and how does he use it in the lab."
P2: "There's no time for that too. And you don't know whether he is actually stealing. You ony suspect it."
Me: "If he is rushing and I cannot reach him, I will alert a nearby guard to what I saw. My responsibility ends there then. It may be a possibility that his professor has sent him to get something in the middle of the lecture. The thing is of glass and he just kept it in his shirt for better protection. That would also explain his hurry. I cannot shout and blame anyone without being sure of it."

They seemed satisfied with this answer.

Part 2: Do you even know what analytical means?

P1: "From when have you been living in Mumbai?"
Me: (a bit proudly) "I was born and brought up here. I have lived here all the 21 years of my life."
P1: "Okay! So supposing you want to make Mumbai clean like say Singapore. So suggest a scheme to the muncipal council. Make it point wise. Give a three point program."
Me: (Shocked. Nervous. Don't wat to speak but still want to do something) "Sir what we can do is involve college students in cleanliness drives in their localities. Help spread awareness."
P2: (Bacche aaj pakad liya tujhe. But I am a vegetarian, isliye khaoonga nahi, keval pakaoonga.)
"Don't you think it is very cliched. Once in two-three years they clean their college and everything goes back to the same from day 2. What's the use of the whole exercise?"
Me: "Sir, I disagree with this fact. It can be very effective. We had Thadomal Shahani students monitoring Bandra station and collecting fines. It worked there. So students can be part of the implementation process."
P2: "S0 studies are not important. All you want to do is make students waste time."
Me: "I think studies can go on with these kind of actvities. We can make it voluntary too. The government can also give the students certificates or even some monetary compensation."
P2: "So all the rowdy people will come in then. You will encourage such people"
Me: Was at a loss for words. Kept quiet for around 1 second.
P1: "I am surprised you directly started with the program. You did not analyze the problem. Why didn't you do that?"
Me: "Sir my mistake. Let me do that now. " (still at a loss for words. Brain not working.)
P1: "Ok. Carry on."
Me: "Sir there is the problem of garbage segregation, garbage collection and disposal... (I know its irrelevant but that's all that came to my mind at that time)"
P1: (Yaar paka mat, I asked you to analyze not give me gas) After giving me a strange look. "Lets start by with the definition of cleanliness."
Me: (Mar gaya yaar! The only thing that came to my mind was 'Cleanliness is next to Godliness.' Somehow avoided saying that. Hemmed..... hawed, fumbled but finally something came out.) "We can say it's absence of unwanted and unpolluting substances."
P1: "Unwanted AND polluting or Unwanted OR polluting ?"
Me: (demonstrating a remarkably impervious brain) "AND"
P2: "There are so many things that are not polluting but unwanted. Take paper. Spittle of paan. So even if these are there, can you say its clean?"
Me: (Tried smiling) "You can maybe call it visual pollution. A paan spittle does not look that good. The aesthetic effect goes away."
(Both give me a look saying don't give us such sad answers yaar.)
P2: "So you can have kitchen waste. Paper. Biodegradable. "
Me: "When it degrades, the microrganisms will spread diseases and all. But I think we can remove the polluting part and keep with only the unwanted part"
P2: "So the beggar on the street has built a house on the pavement. It is not good to look at. So that fellow is unwanted. Should we throw him out?"
Me: "That is entirely another problem. We can say an unwanted thing. There's a difference between a human being and a thing."
P2: "So the pavement dweller is ok, but his hutment and his belongings are not ok? What are you trying to say?"
Me: "I believe we are mixing two things here. Sum dwellers is a different problem altogether."
P1: (Senses I am cornered and nervous and this is going nowhere.) "Leave all this. Come back to the original three point programme."
Me: (relieved) " first point is include students for awareness. Secondly, implement the fines that you have put in place. Thirdly, create facilities for collection, put dustbins on all roadsides. It a person wants to spit or throw a banana peel, he should have a place to throw it. Even if after this people do not follow the law, punish the offenders."
P1:"You know of any city that became clean overnight."
Me:"I do not know of any city that became clean overnight. But I have heard the case of T Chandrashekhar."
P1: Nodding "Yes, Thane."
Me: "Yes. I did not go to personally see it but heard from a lot of people that it has become very clean. It won the cleanest city award. Also the same with Nagpur. This shows that if there is beauracratic will, political will, cities can be cleaned. It can happen."

End of Part 2.
I was very nervous and fumbling through the whole thing. Did not know what to do or say. To quip, "Vaat lag gayi. Unhone ghumaya aur hum ghoom gaye." Plus P2 had this very fake I-am-so-stern look which he was not able to carry off. Didn't know what to make of it.

Part 3: Good shot! That directly hit your foot!

P1: "What do you think is the future of the steel industry in India?" (I had mentioned that my father is into steel trading)
Me: "I think the future is very bright with consumption increasing as the ecomony grows."
P1: "But the demand from China has gone down. So the market has actually gone down."
Me: "Sir India is developing and growing. This growth will be sustainable only with growth in infrastructure like roads and buildings. The infrastructure spending has been increased in the present budget. For this, steel is required. Also as manufacturing sector grows, we will require steel for making machines. So, in the long-term the future for the industry looks good but in the short term, yes I agree with you that its gone down with the demand from China."

P2: "What is your college famous for?"
Me: (My college is famous?!?!?) "Ours was the fourth engineering college to be established in the city. It's very old and has a very good brand name. It has one of the largest campuses in Mumbai University. Also, if you see building area, we have one of the largest. We have excellent faculty with excellent resources. (Even Yudhishtra had to say 'Asvatthaama Hathmaya")"
P2: "You really think any college is famous because of labs and infrastructure? A college is famous because of its alumni. People remember the alumni and the college. Name some famous alumni of your college."
Me: (Abey mar daala yaar!! My mind started searching for alumni frantically, didn't remember anything. I had been searching the net for the past two days on SPCE and had seen the name of only one alumni. Guess who? Shefali Zariwala. And a nervous mind doesn't think twice. Proceeded to shoot myself in the foot) Smiled. "Well Sir, I can recall one alumni by name but she is not famous because of engineering - Shefali Zariwala"

(They did not respond. Probably did not know who she was - woh hua toh achha hai.)

Me: (contd... now with a straight face) "SPCE has had its students, year after year, entering the IIMs and getting into the best Universities in the United States. We have had our alumni excelling in their careers but I cannot recall any particular name as of now."

P1 and P2: "Thank you Ankur."

As is the rule, everyone gheraoed me after I was outside. P2 came outside and called the fourth guy in. The fellow went in but P2 kept looking outside. Then addressed me and gave a smile for the first time "You are done naa?"

Me: (Big smile) "Yes sir!"

The Indian Postal Act 1898

2006-03-06T02:06:00.000+05:30

Didn't know it existed before I read this. After reading, I am speechless. Will comment on Tuesday by which time I will have to regain speech for IIML.

The Blank Noise Project

2006-03-05T00:44:00.000+05:30

Eve-teasing is a word that's unique to India. And my knowledge of this subject ends here. I didn't know how common it was till I visited The Blank Noise Project. They are protesting against steet harassment and have declared a blog-a-thon for 7th March. However, since 7th March is the day I will mourn my IIML interview I decided to post this here and now. Since I don't have any great ideas or experiences (thankfully), here's directly you to something that those 'female' amongst us have to go through.

Excerpt from knownturf.blogspot.com

Some things, you learn to expect, growing up a girl.

You expect to confront harrassment as surely as the sun in May and the fog in a Delhi December.

When you leave the house, an invisible snake of alert suspicion will wind down from your shoulders down your back and become a clenched fist in all public spaces, through all journeys.

How optimistic you're feeling about man-kind, on any given day, determines whether you take a bus home, or just hop into an auto, or a cab, knowing you cannot really afford it. If you really cannot afford an auto some day, you will not take the bus at rush-hour.
You'll let bus after bus after bus go past. Waiting is tiresome. But waiting is easier than bristling.

You didn't always expect to do this, of course. One learns these things, by and by.

I recommend reading the whole article. Cannot decide after reading whether to feel happy or sad? Happy because I am 'lucky' enough to be male or sad because I had to add the lucky part.
Eve-teasing is not only a word that's unique to India. It's also gruesome. Added that to my knowledge base today.

Geometris Obscuritism

2006-03-04T20:30:00.000+05:30

"I am starting a new religion of 'geometris obscuritism'. The circle, ellipse, parabola, hyperbola are my Gods in whose doomsday powers I hold my belief. Depiction of these in any form hurts my feelings and signifies malicious intent. I sincerely request all publishers of higher secondary textbooks to immediately stop publishing these. Henceforth, students will have to do with imagining these figures without the diagrams part. In an agreeable afterthought, they can join my protest and extend it to any analysis of their Gods. Infact, I would further consider the word 'conics' to be spiteful invective against the revered ones. I would also request the Government of India to ban all books with disgraceful depictions of the venerable ones, in the spirit of inclusive secularism. Minority protection is a supreme responsibility and what better minority than one which has only one follower. I would also request all heads of state to disassociate themselves with publishers who proceed to spread this vile invective against my peaceful religion. My religion is the most peaceful on earth but if these mischievous elements are not controlled it may lead to desperate measures. My religion may have a shortage of followers right now but in wake of my protests, I expect large numbers of higher secondary students who share my emotions to join the protests."

When I had first heard of the Jyllands-Posten cartoons and the resulting uproar ( it was still not frontpage news then) , the first thoughts that had come to my mind were a way to liberate all high school students from the tyranny of geometry. I had suffered at its hands and didn't want it inflicted on other unprepared souls (Only goes to show my spirit of disinterested altruism). What I found is that I am not the first wiseguy around and there have been various joke religions doing the rounds. Prominent amongst these are the The Invisible Pink Unicorn and the Flying Spaghetti Monster (However none of these have the disinterested altruism part - so my joke religion kicks their joke religion's ass ;p).

Disclaimer:
These were only the first of my thoughts on the issue. They have evolved since then. Perhaps I will document those on another day.

Education is Business III contd....

2006-03-04T09:17:00.001+05:30

Previously:

Education is Business - I

Education is Business - II

Education is Business - III

I got one more question, not from a friend but from someone who perhaps has not seen the way Indian education works. Don't know whether you have thought about it but I used to think about it a lot in FE and SE and the answer was a foregone conclusion. Anyhow, spelling it out in clear words for those who aren't acquainted with India. (For those who know it all, don't laugh..... remember the days in school when you too thought like this)

7) "The Indian education system is famous throughout the world. We have produced winners who have succeeded in foreign lands. It's your lack of initiative that's actually to blame. The system might not be that good but then you too are not the best student. Your actions while assigning culpability only indicate an escapist attitude."

My answer:

(After I stop laughing.) Why is our education system famous? The biggest reason I believe is the few people who come out as winners. These guys have succeeded against all odds. They have succeeded inspite of the system rather than because of it. Infact they are so good, that they usually rush abroad. Having gone through the trying circumstances of their graduate years, they can now win anywhere. They usually win here too. And when all the people from one country start winning, people in the host country have to find some reason for their success. 'Hey! This guy is smart and I am dumb' is not the most palatable of reasons. So they settle for the second best reason, 'He received excellent education. No wonder he is a success.'

I salute those who can come up inspite of the odds but it does not say a lot about the system. We need to look at the general output, not at the exceptions, and this is where we face disappointment. The question as I see it seeks to base itself on exceptions. Now, how do I define exceptions? (They are the guys who make it big as said in the previous para) To use layman language they are CS engineers who do not need training when they enter a Infosys/Wipro/TCS. Google does not train its engineers (entry level training like Infy etc.) and also does not hire many from India. The very fact that the Infy HR manager says, 'Courses you are studying are not industry relevant. So we do not test you for technical knowledge. We believe we can train you in that part if you have the basic aptitude.' is enough to put me to shame. The general output here needs the training.

About the personal initiative part, I believe this question blames students. So are they to blame? Yes, partly. But let me give you an analogy. The people for whom you have to write code are idiots. What do you do? Whine about how your customers are idiots or write idiot-proof code? What I seek to prove is that like in any other business, you cannot put the whole blame on the customer's shoulder. You have to mould yourself according to the customer.

Another point is that the students here are not exactly idiots. Many Indians after they visit the US become exceptionally better equipped with technical knowledge. The CS engineer learns more in his job training of a few months than he does in the four years of engineering. In a stimulating environment even the below average Indian student can perform. This tells me that the fault is not entirely of students.

When a system does not work and when we have proof staring us in the face let's not still live in a fool's paradise. That's escapist as far as I know the definition of the word.

CONCLUDED

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Digressing from the topic, my brother has just given me a certificate: No 1 time waster who has got no other work and sits warming his butt writing long usless blog posts.

He also intends to give a certificate to the person who has read the whole Education is Business 'series' on my blog: NO 2 time waster who has got no other work and sits warming his butt reading long useless blog posts.

Any contenders?

Education is Business - III

2006-03-02T20:42:00.000+05:30

Previously:
Education is Business - I
Education is Business - II

Why education shouldn't be business? I have had the opportunity to discuss this with a few friends and received fairly the same set of questions from everyone. I have tried to present my argument as to why it is already a business and why we should think seriously about educational reforms? Dunno if it made any converts. Here are the questions with the my reasoning presented in the answers.

1) The most common question of all, the most typical question which will make proud all our 'red' friends is 'Education is about equal opportunities. The system as it stands today provides equal opportunities. However, 'capitation fees' (as the Hon. Supreme Court prefers calling it) will slowly make fees so high, that no poor person will be able to afford it.' There are many variations but the gist is the same.

My answer :

I classify this as a pro-poor argument. So far, so good. But like all pro-poor, well intentioned communist arguments, it is idealistic and hardly translates into reality. Those who suffer the most in the end are the poor. What we need to recognize here is that there will be the rich and there will be the poor, and the rich will pay their way through for better facilities. I know that's going to ruffle a lot feathers but it has been so throughout history and it will be so in the future too. Altruism is always a responsibility of the next-door neighbour.

Let me take an analogy, any communist v/s capitalist one will do but my favourite is healthcare. So, there should be equal facilities. Hmm.... Why have private hospitals? We all know the really poor cannot afford it. It's the rich who benefit in the end, so abolish all the private hospitals. Let everyone live with the pathetic facilities of public hospitals. In fact, if you are all for equity, stop visiting your general practitioner. Go to a government hospital and meet the non-existent doctor there. Not a very comfortable idea, is it? Even if it were done, you would still find the rich enjoying most of the the doctor's attention. I hope I don't need to specify the reasons. If you still don't get the point let me spell it out. Socialism seeks to achieve equality for all, the rich as well as the poor. What it claims to do is give the facilities available to the rich to everyone. What happens in reality is that it gives everyone only the facilities available to the poor. So instead of making everyone rich, it seeks to make everyone poor. What it achieves in the end is only 'equal distribution of poverty'.

The hidden hand of Adam Smith comes into play everywhere. Lets see how it seeks to equalize demand-supply for education. The answer consists of two words: Coaching Classes. Though they never adverize it like this, I can imagine a Coaching Class ad ' Unsatisfied with the incomplete education you receive? Tired of the ignorant teachers and impractical lectures? Join our classes. Get value for your money.' What classes do is provide what the market wants, and they charge a premium for it. Does it pay? You bet! It's one of the most lucrative businesses presently with the turnover of major classes easily running into crores. Small coaching classes are turning up at every nukkad and chauraha. They also pay better and so attract better faculty. Does it mean I support the concept of coaching classes? No. They make a perversion of education by aiming on marks rather than on knowledge, but then if you depend on the traditional system, it niether gives you marks, nor knowledge. What the coaching classes tell me is that people are ready to pay for better education and that the present system as it stands is inequitable.

In case you love statistics, do this. In your class, find the top ten rankers, and then compare their average family income with the average family income of the class. Find the average income of people lets say a class in an IIM and a JBIMS. Or compare the income levels of the top 200 rankers in any competitive exam with the ranks from the 10000-10,200 (or the middle 200). See the results for yourself. Then think about the equity of the present system.

Also, with time we can have scholarships for the really brilliant without money. More on that in the next question.

2) 'You have no empathy yaar. I mean, at least the poor guy has a chance here. And only money will talk in the private colleges. Utter duds with bulging pockets will get in.'

My answer:

So you feel utter duds with bulging pockets aren't getting in now? Consider this rough transcript of a discussion between a prospective student and an MU engg college. This is true and the intention of the caller was just a simple enquiry.

Caller (C) : 'Hello. Is this XYZ institute of Technology.'
Engg College(EC): ' Yes'

C : 'Can I know when you release the forms for the leftover seats after the government round?'
EC: 'There's no round after the government round. You can come in through the govt. round or the management round.' Pauses. 'There's also another way. You can take a donation seat.'

C : (a bit surprised) 'What's a donation seat??'
EC: 'You will have to a give donation for that seat (duh!) '
C : 'How much?'
EC: 'Come to our office. We can discuss that.'

This was without any influence, any contacts. As the saying goes, '2 number ka dhanda bhi ekdum imaandaari se karte hain'. People who are undergoing the admission process can give you a rate list of the price of a seat in each college. It runs from 3 lakhs to even 10 lakhs. If a college comes up for the sole purpose of earning money, will it not sell seats? Yes it will! But it will not sell all the seats. It cannot for the sole purpose that building a brand name will require talented raw material. In fact, the fees taken from the 'bulging pocket' duds can be used to finance the education of the no-money-but-lots-of-brain guys. So in effect, yes seats will be sold but opportunities will also increase for the brainy guys.

Another thing is the government can continue charging low fees in its own institutions. It can continue its work at its own pace. I am not asking Mumbai University to increase its fees but what I am asking for, is permission for another autonomous university which can come up and work for profits and charge the fees it deems fit. Private and public institutions can co-exist.

3) 'Will people pay for education? Is there a market that is ready to pay a premium ?'

My answer :

People are ready to pay for classes, here and now. Also there are those who pay under the table. ( Refer the previous answers.)

The number of Indian students currently in the US of A is 74,000 and it's increasing year on year exponentially. Most of these guys have some cash in their pocket and are ready to shell it out for better education. Yes, the 'land of opportunity' attraction is there but most of these would agree to study in India if they get similar facilities at 1/8th to 1/10th of the price. Plus there is that lot that can pay 1/8th to 1/10th of the price but not the price for the US. Others might want to study in India and do not opt for the US of A. People are ready to pay if they see returns at the end of the tunnel and good education seems to be the key to a secure future (at least in public perception).

Another fact is, the market as it stands today, has no competition. A student is Mumbai has no options except for Mumbai University. Give people the power of choice. Give people the options and you will find them making intelligent decisions.

So yes, there is a market. There is need to recognize it and tap it.

(An agreeable side effect would be reduced brain drain. It might even enourage brain gain from Africa, Latin America, Middle East. That will give the country more soft power but that it entirely another issue.)

4) 'What about our tradition? The gurus in our ancient times were never mad after money. We are going against our tradition/culture.'

My answer:

Yes we had a great culture some thousands of years ago. No one was supposed to be mad after money at that time. However, times have changed. Having a desire and finding legitimate means to fulfill it is neither illegal nor against tradition. We live in a market-based society and we need to recognize that. If we do not do that, what we get is the present education system. Change is inevitable. Adapt.

5) 'This will only encourage the fly-by-night operators. Thousands of unsuspecting students will me made a dupe of. Whatever, it is, atleast the present system does not play with their careers.'

My answer :

This is where the government should come in. Give a rating to all colleges. Set up an autonomous body with prominent people from the industry for that purpose. Act as a facilitator. Provide people with the information. Even then if someone wants to join that college, its her/his choice.

Again, taking the healthcare analogy, if there are quacks existing in the society, you do not ban private practitioners.

6)' I don't agree with you. What if it does not work?'

My answer :

The present system gives a raw deal to everyone involved. Its forcing charity down the throat of a market. What if it does not work? First of all, I don't think it will not work. If at all it does not work, worse that will happen is that we revert to the present system. Public and private universities can exist side by side and if it does not work, the private universities will shut shop. End of the story.

However, if it does work, imagine the possibilities. Education is one the most important and one the least recognized components of infrastructure that India needs to invest in for a confident future. We might have the world looking to us for educational opportunities. We can attract the best Africans and South Americans like America attracts the best Indians and Chinese today. From brain drain to brain gain. Just think about it.

I think the least we can do is try it out. The present system is not working anyways.

Next:
Education is Business - III contd..

Education is Business - II

2006-03-01T16:59:00.000+05:30

Previously:
Education is Business - I

Back to the topic after the commercial break of the IITB interview.

So how would commercialization actually help education? I think it would be great help because it will start concentrating on the customers (students) and the market. At the outset, it will be about catering to market demands, adding most value. This will be done when options are available and competition is encouraged but more on that later. For now, lets concentrate on the primary transformations that we can expect from educational reforms:

1) Course Content

One of the remarkable changes would be in the course content. As it stands now, we have a summary revision of the course content every 5-6 years which involves just juggling around with the available courses irrespective of available resources or industry preferences. Mumbai University as it stands (with close to 50,000 engineers getting in every year) is not exactly 'lean' for changes that are responsive and quick. Elective courses are available only in the final semesters, that too, often limited by the college (or due to 'technical reasons', which people from my class will understand). As autonomous universities charging 'capitation fees' come up, one of the prime ways they would want to attract incoming students is using placement statistics and/or the number of their students getting into an IIM or pursuing MS. So, the end result that we can have is a curriculum that's changing fast according to 'placement' requirements. Also, an independent autonomous university would be better able to identify the resources at hand and offer relevant elective courses for diverse student profiles which can attract more industries.

2) Product Differentiation

Yes, I have revised my Economics and I refuse to call it brand building. (Though it may well be part of a brand-building exercise.) I think we will have universities that will concentrate on different courses as their USP’s. So while one would be known for electronics, another would do the same for civil or mechanical or nanotechnology for that matter.

I see some of this happening already in the B-schools. The top ones (IIMs A,B,C,L) are considered good for everything. Then you have a XLRI which everyone says is good for HR, an IITB which is selling its emphasis on ‘technology management’, a SP JAIN which highlights the ‘Indianness’ of its curriculum, then again is ISB which is attracting a completely different crowd. So can be the case with our graduate (equivalent to the American undergraduate) degrees. Instead of the whole and sole BCom degrees that are on offer now, perhaps we will have degrees concentrating on banking, accounting, finance and host of other sectors that a booming economy is throwing open.

3) Faculty Compensation

Let me define the problem here first. It’s inherent in our mentality that teachers should not earn. Remember all the old Hindi movies with the village Masterji. The guy who has lots of knowledge but only has a jhola on his shoulders, horn-rimmed spectacles and lots of poverty to show for it. I don’t know what it did to you but for me, it convinced me at a very young age that teachers are great losers and I don’t want to be one. Fifty years ago when there was hardly any industry in India, teaching was one of the options that an academically inclined class topper would consider. But all this has changed with liberalization. The class topper now has lots more (better) options than being a poor jholawala teacher. So, who opts for teaching? Either the guy who is so deeply, madly, passionately in love with teaching (and India) that he doesn’t mind living in rags or the guy who knows nothing and has no other jobs. It’s mostly the latter. It’s an often heard complaint from most students, “The older teachers know something. The new ones coming in are b******t.” (even my friend in an NIT has the same complaints) You expect the new teachers coming in to be more ‘in sync’ with the crowd. Why is it not so? Because the students who come in are usually the cream of India and the faculty that comes in is the discarded slag. And if you don’t trust me then trust the Economic Times (although I believe I am a more reliable source :-p ), faculty crunch is troubling even the IIMs.

( Another example to prove that teachers like any other human being like earning good money and aren’t here to just get kicks from their charitable instincts: The Maharashtra government in 1999-2000 came up with a law that prevented teachers from working in both classes and schools/colleges at the same time. What happened in reality was that most schools/colleges being faced with the problem of a faculty crunch if they followed the order, allowed teachers to continue with the coaching classes. )

So what’s the solution? Give a higher end salary for high quality work. Once you get the best people and pay them well, you can demand good work. You can take a feedback from students and evaluate faculty on that basis. In fact, there can be added incentive for research. If a faculty is able to deliver with good projects (with/without students) that are saleable, s/he can create funds in partnership with the university. Professors could even be given autonomy to design and start their own courses if enough students are interested. Competition could be encouraged within the faculty itself to attract students to their own courses which would keep them on their toes. So, if one member wants to focus on attendance, another on class participation, a third on project work let them have their way with the course.

This is one area which I believe is in need of the most desperate change and sooner the better.

4) Incubate Research

Research is prominent in India only by its absence (That’s true even for the IITs and IIMs. The only places where a modicum of research takes place are TIFR and IISc). However, serious research requires a lot of investment and can earn big bucks. Entrepreneurs or even established business houses on the lookout for ‘capitation fees’ can invest in this research. And if we have good faculty and good students with good resources, it would not be long before industry sponsored projects find their way into our educational institutions.

There are a lot of other things that can and will change. I have lots more ideas on what can change like resources (which includes a LOT of things), efficiency, transparency, institutional autonomy (which is almost non-existent as of today), summer training etc. but there is a human limit to what I can write about. So I have outlined the basic changes that I hope to see with educational reforms coming in. It would be naïve to expect all these changes overnight. 5-10 years is also a conservative estimate. But by that time, things will start moving, and we will see the effects. Yes, fly-by-night teaching shops will operate and students will be made a dupe of. But then, they are by no stretch of imagination, getting a good deal now. Plus, that’s what the government and judiciary are there for. They can assume the role of a facilitator rather than act as controllers.

In case you have any reservations/oppositions/doubts/suggestions regarding this issue, please post a comment. This is an issue I feel strongly about and would welcome any ideas.

Tomorrow’s agenda: Questions that I have faced from friends (some are the typical socialist questions) and why I think these should not come in the way of educational reforms.

Next:
Education is Business - III
Education is Business - III contd..

What not to do in a management interview.

2006-02-28T12:15:00.000+05:30

If you want to read a donts list of things for the GD/PI process of IITB, read the my experience of the process. I did everything exactly the way it was not supposed to be done.

After experiencing IIM K, I filled my form on the previous day itself. Reached at 8.05 am for the process supposed to start at 8.00. It started at 8.15 with a presentation on SJMSOM. They unabashedly concentrated on the salary and placement part in the presentation. (And after that they want us to come up with creative reasons on "Why MBA?") Even showed us an Metro Aaj Tak clip concentrating on SJMSOM. (Don't know how much they must have paid for it, so much for business ethics). One commendable thing was that the whole process was managed by the students themselves. They were very accomodating regarding dates and timings of interview. Also, students were answering all types of questions readily in the online forums. Questions related to course, accomodation, placements etc. were tackled by the students after the process.

The professors introduced themselves before the GD. GD topic was a HR case study on a company preparing food products for major airlines. Most of its 535 employees were part of a union and for the past 5 years, number of greivances had increased 15% every year and presently stands at 803. Then breakup of grievances was given with breakup of the stage at which they were solved. After this three questions were asked:

1) How will you approach the union leaders?
2) If the Industrial relations department asked you to develop a training program whom will you call for the program.
3) What exactly are you going to train.

I was completely lacking points and was blank in the GD. The moderators were polite enough to especially ask all those who where quiet if they wanted to contribute anything? I mumbled something about union incitement and linking employee pay to company growth. Was mostly dazed and dumbstruck. Sat like a cow muching through the whole GD.

Was the first to be called for PI. Now the fun started. There were three panelists. I managed to convince all three that I am good for nothing and they better not take me in.

They started with the standard tell me about yourself. Told me my performance in GD has been very laidback. Seemed I was not interested. Truthfully told them that I did not have much of an idea about HR anyways and those guys had my empty sheet of paper to check. Then moved on to CAT percentile. Asked me which one will I choose in case I get both IIML and IITB. I said IIML coz it has one of the biggest libraries. Also, I have received excellent feedback from the alumni. It is older and has a better brand name. The guys pounced on me saying what feedback did our alumni give you? What do you know about our facilities? You live in Mumbai yet you never came here to check it out for yourself. You know everything about Lucknow, US, UK but don't know anything about Bombay. Tried giving an answer but the guy was in no mood to listen.

After this, it was slaughter. And I could not even scream bloody murder, for it was my mistake. I had not prepared acads at all. Asked me everything they possible could: fav subject, least fav subject, project, even asked me my favourite formula from electronics (I went blank on that one) etc. I proved to them that I did not have any idea of these at all. It was as if

Panelists (intented statement) : Arre yaar kuchh to bol. Chaar saal kitna tp kiya tune. Kabhi bhool se toh book khol li hogi.
Myself (unintended answer): Don't you worry sir. I have passed all these years without even trying to open my textbook. I am an absolute and complete idiot in all matters electronic.

After this, they went on to TCS placement. Asked me dat it doesn't seem I know much about electronics so do I know anything about IT? After all, I have decided to take a job there. I said I know just some part of C.

Panelist expression : Arre yaar, jo kiya woh bhi nahi aata, jo karnewala hai woh bhi nahi aata. Your lack of focus is truly exemplary.
Myself: Was drawn into self-pity by this time.

Again, they moved on to management mein kaunsa field karna hai? I said will decide in first year depending on which attracts me more : Marketing, finance or systems.
Marketing Q: What is the difference between marketing a soap and a microchip ?

Went on to a long winded lecture on market segments, commodities, targeting...... had just finished lecture on soap and the guy was already tired. So just added that microchip would mean exclusivity and a high margin for an exclusive technology. Ok! So microchip chodd computer bataa. Or do you think it is also a commodity. I said personal computer has transformed into a commodity so IBM moved out of the business. Gave me a smile. Commodity has low profit margins, then HLL ke margin high kyun hain? Gave an answer about how they have understood Indian market, reach even remote villages with their product. (Didn't say it but basically meant wider base, bigger market.) Here the fellow just gave another smile. A sort of mocking smile this time on (Beta jyada mat phenkh, ham tere baap hain is subject mein. Nahi aata toh I don't know bol de).

Then they came on to what you do in free time. Told them about reading. Finally my area of strength. Went on about an eclectic assortment of books. Asked me to summarize first chapter of Amartya Sen's 'The Argumentative Indian'. Did that reasonably well. Then came the earth shattering conclusion: 'You seem to like reading a lot! You analyzed that quite well. It seems you read everything except for what is in your engineering syllabus. You are wasting your time in engineering'. Again I wanted to reply saying how engineering helped me develop analytical skills but the fellow cut me short. 'You are just giving excuses'

'How much do you read about Business, Economy etc.'
'(Knew that I am gone by this time. Wanted to have some fun now) I started reading that after I got my CAT and JMET results.' I smiled. Received frowns.

Then finally asked me about Game Theory. I have a certificate for that. Told them I don't know any great theories but just know that it involves basing your decision on the decision of others involved. Asked me to explain prisoner's dilemma. Did that (fumbled sometimes). Could read the expression on their faces : 'We are wasting each other's time yaar. Complete this and leave.'

'Thank you. You can leave'

I left.

Education is Business - I

2006-02-27T11:24:00.000+05:30

"Stop the commercialization of education", "Education is not business", "Save knowledge from the businessmen", screamed the hoardings. The scene was a demonstration outside Dadar Station in 2002. I saw these on my way to Vidyalankar. And guess what? I was a silent supporter of those people then. Those were the blue-eyed days of the first semester when I still had great expectations from engineering.

But four (or rather 3 1/2) years of enduring the 'education' system has turned me into a die-hard convert. The whole system from the start till the end is a big farce. You have to go through it to know whats it like!! It's the classic case of the socialist state.

Good intentions (In theory at least).
Idealistic expectations.
Improper Implementation.
No feedback.
No changes.
The system turns into a farce that everyone has to live with.

Lets have some examples of the farcicial process that is called 'education' today (I have used my experiences in engineering here):

1. Assignments:
Intention : To make students think and use their analytical abilities to better understand the course.
Reality : One master copy of the assignment comes out and the speed with which the rest of the class churns out copies would put a photocopier to shame.

2. Journals :
Intention : Students should learn the experimentation process and document it.
Reality : Journals are passed on from one class to the next like traditional heirlooms with the same readings. And like the game of 'telephone', after 3 or 4 such 'generations', the journals hold remarkably garbled messages which will can readily lighten up a sour evening.

3. Lectures :
Intention : To help students gain an intuitive knowledge of the subject coupled with their textbooks.
Reality : For a change most students do learn things here: some learn GRE wordlists, some practice fine art in their notebooks, some learn poetry, some equip themselves with the extremely practical art of copying signatures, while others learn how to appreciate nature (looking out of the window). All this while still maintaining a face thats soaked with sincerity. (Talk of multitasking!!)

4. Practical sessions :
Intention : To help students back their theoretical knowledge with practical experimentation.
Reality : In the cheerful happenstance that the CRO, power supply, breadboard, multimeter do decide to work simultaneously, it becomes increasingly obvious to the 8 students crowding round the apparatus that the only guy who has any idea of what is going on is the lab incharge (not even the professor).

There innumerable examples to sit and count here, from elective courses to final year projects, from incompetent teachers to irrelevant courses, from library facilities to paper presentations, from seminars to industrial visits etc. etc. I will save a lengthy elaboration for some other day, but you get general idea that nothing is working the way it is supposed to be. Everyone around knows everything and everyone has to live with it. And the best part is, the state is least concerned. Given the general scheme of things, the only thought that comes to my mind is that education as it exists is very bad business. Why? It is a unique business in the sense that no one cares for the customers (the students) here who are conveniently made shortshrift of. A business that has been forcibly tagged with the burden of charity and whose progress is stifled in a market circumscribed by socialist boundaries. It would be really funny if not for the fact that it is laying waste the potential of an entire generation.

Will continue tomorrow with how I believe educational reforms can change this. Have to prepare for my IITB interview now.

Next:
Education is Business II
Education is Business III
Education is Business III contd..

Les Miserables! Will have to read that book now!

2006-02-25T14:19:00.000+05:30

You're Les Miserables!

by Victor Hugo

One of the best known people in your community, you have become
something of a phenomenon. People have sung about you, danced in your honor, created all
manner of art in your name. And yet your story is one of failure and despair, with a few
brief exceptions. A hopeless romantic, you'll never stop hoping that more good will come
from your failings than is ever possible. Beware detectives and prison guards bearing
vendettas.

Take the Book Quiz
at the Blue Pyramid.

It stinks

2006-02-24T19:36:00.000+05:30

While writing the topic, I thought for a long time as to what I should write....... 'Education stinks', 'Engineering stinks' , 'Teachers stink' but I could not agree with it for the charade that I have received in the name of education isn't exactly engineering, it's not even education. Plus the guys who attempt 'teaching' me aren't teachers, they are mostly the i-didn't-get-any-other-job-so-I-am-here types. And does this thing stink? You bet!! It stinks more than fresh puke on a hot pavement.

Imagine this:

You have been a reasonably good student all your life. You are not exactly top of the class but you have not got any KTs too. For some reason you have not been able to attend a particular prof's lecture for the penultimate semester. You were also not smart enough to work around the system and ensure enough 'proxy' attendances. But you know something of the subject and are hoping to salvage whatever is left of your reputation (infront of the prof that is) in the viva (oral exams).

You are never given that chance. Your viva-voce turns out to be more an exercise in humiliating you on your lack of attendance. Anyhow, you swallow all this and wait for the final result. When the final result arrives, you see your result wanting to see that little 'P' (indicating Pass) but what you see is a little 'F' (indicating Fail). You check again..... but its that 'F'. 'Hey! I have passed in the all the papers', but then you see........ you have failed in the vivas.

Now stop imagining, for something along these lines has actually happened to a fellow in my class. Why does this anger me? Call me a fool but I am still a stickler for the rulebook. No law in the world allows for such obscene abuse of power as was evidenced in the hallowed corridors of my college on this occasion. You find a student is not attending, his attendance is less than the required 75%. These are logical steps that should be taken (under the present rules) in my opinion:

1) Find out how many such students exist?
- In case there are many look for faults in your teaching. Maybe what you teach is just not relevant.
2) If this is a case with only a particular bunch of students, look into their past records.
3) Call the students and have a talk with them. Try to see if they have any genuine problems.
4) If you are a stickler for attendance give them a warning.
5) If a student still does not turn up, give a second warning, tell him in accordance with the rules, he would not be allowed to sit for the exams (in case the rules allow you to do that) and/or will lose 5 marks of termwork that are related to attendance.
6) If even that doesn't help, cut the 5 marks and/or don't allow the student to sit for the examination.

Ok!! I know you are laughing now....... Which fool of a prof will follow the rulebook anyway? This is the exact problem that I find with the system..... everywhere. Our contempt for the law is so great that no one, not even the so called 'gurus' who are supposed to be ideals follow them. What did the prof in question do here?. He realized that no one cares for the rulebook anyway and the only way he could seek retribution was by using all resources in his power. So he goes out and fails the student in the viva-voce - something completely unrelated with attendance.

This points to another systemic malaise - that of giving more importance to the process than the outcomes (One with which even the rulebook agrees, when it assigns 5 marks for attendance). All that is left of the still-born processes are corpses of ego-warming exercises. But these have to be preserved!! Even at the cost of knowledge, at the cost of education!! So what counts is not whether you can design a multivibrator circuit or whether you have any idea of how a MOSFET works. What matters is how many lectures have you sat for? This is supposed to impart through some super-human process..... automatic knowledge..... even if you weren't listening, even if you weren't mentally present...... or for that matter present only on paper. So what if students were not able to answer what's scaling or how a simple JFET switch works...... the incarnation of ignorance is the guy who did not attend the lectures. Hell! He's the real fool 'cause he tried to be honest and didn't even pull the proxy gag on the prof's eyes. Hang him for his honesty!!! He truly deserves that.

And you know what's the real sad thing? This prof knows the stuff he teaches (that's a rare specimen I can assure you!). I thought this prof was intelligent. And I also thought intelligent people: (a) do not care to stoop to repulsively misusing power (b) Are logical enough to be concerned more about the outcomes than the processes. Obviously, I was wrong somewhere......

Can anything change????

2006-02-23T13:53:00.000+05:30

Recently saw Rang De Basanti..... It must be the most reviewed movie on the internet, almost every blog carried a review. So I will not trouble you with one more. But I did discuss it with some friends and the conclusion we arrived at was that the movie was unrealistic to the hilt. I mean will any sane defence minister, however corrupt he may be, denounce an IAF pilot on prime time television as inexperienced? Will he order lathi charge on peaceful protestors in full public view? The answer seems to be no....

Then I read this today and my views changed. It seems you do not have to be the defence minister to brazenly defy the law. Being a Haryana Minister's son or even being the son of a local MP is enough. It gives you enough license to murder someone infront of scores of people and then go scot free. Time and again I hope that something will be done and time and again nothing is......

Can we actually blame the witnesses that turn hostile? I can already hear the voices blaming: 'It's they who are to blame really.....'. I for once am not sure if I would have stood on my stand. Even if one is ready to hold one's own life at risk, it would be too much to ask one to risk the lives of everyone he or she holds dear. Plus the fact, that public memory is way too short and you can always trust them to forget everything. (The report of the death of a witness for that matter is not even front page news.) The Media as it exists in India only serves as a replacement of reality TV. See it, enjoy it, forget it. This fact is reflected in both quality and quantity of analysis that news receives. For example, while in school when I had first seen AajTak report this crime and had read this piece, I had thought that why don't we make a more cohesive judicial system. After all, if the police is on the lookout for someone and if he appears in a court anywhere in the country, he should be arrested or the prosecution should be given a chance to at least present their case before the order giving bail is passed. But all we do is sit and enjoy it (come to think of it.... India started enjoying reality TV much before the west thought of the concept). I am afraid of asking the same question today. Perhaps because I know that the answer has not changed.......

As for public anger, anger of impotent people like you and me that is fired sporadically by names like Satyendra Dubey, Manjunath Shanmughan and Jessica Lal..... by the image of the powerful politician daring us to do if we can do anything. Don't worry we will get over it. Like we get over most of the other things in life. Come to think of it the best answer at the IIMK interview (about the difference between America and India) would have been our chronic amnesia. They have a system where public outrage once impeached the President, we have a system where we cannot even punish an MP’s son for the crimes he has commited, forget the minister himself. Can it ever change?????? I don’t think it will change anytime in the near future, for life holds hope for people still in India. The odds of standing up to injustice are incentive enough for silence. The only day that things will change is when life whether silent or otherwise does not hold any hope…..

My experiments with the IIMK Interview

2006-02-21T18:31:00.000+05:30

Finally, one over, two to go. Yes, I am talking of the IIM GD/PI process. The process which selects the raw material to undergo processing at the 'best' B-schools of the nation. As is usual for me, I did not prepare (ok! I did prepare a wee bit after a super-disastrous mock PI at IMS but not that much). Only thing that I very seriously prepared for was for the pronounciation of Kozhikode. Is 'z' silent or not? Also is 'kode' spoken as in 'code' in English or as rhyming with 'thode' (little) in Hindi.

The IIMK interview was scheduled at 2.00 on the 20th of Feb. As far as the forms are concerned yours truly started filling those at 11.00 - exactly three hours before the process starts. By the time I got dressed, bought the file and got ready with my marksheets and the copies, there was simply no time to prepare for any hobbies or look up the acads or for that matter the day's newspaper headlines (I will live to regret the headlines part....). Infact, there was also no scope of reaching on time. This future manager then suddenly regretted his time management skills. There being no options left, I jumped into a cab and went till Dadar. I arrived safe and sound at 1.50 and spent the next ten minutes searching for the GD/PI process rooms of one of the best management institutes about which no one knew (the location of the rooms that is). Anyways, just reached in time and was the last person to register. After around five minutes of anxious waiting (during which I adjusted my tie , wiped my forehead and comforted myself with self-pity for just about a hundred times), a person came and divided us into three batches. Reminded me of Sholay...... Aadhe idhar idhar jao, aadhe udhar jao, aadhe mere peeche aao..... except for the fact that this guy was not mathematically challenged.

Anyways, I followed him (unke peeche) to the first floor. We were asked to wait outside the room. which time was efficiently utilized by all of us in introductions and socializing (as taught in IMS, CL, TIME etc.) An impromptu voting session also told us that this was the first GD for 6/8 people present. The GD topic was

"Seek wisdom not knowledge. Knowledge tells you of the past. Wisdom prepares you for the future - Native American Proverb".

The topic being about wisdom, its very sad that we did not have any wiseguys in this group to make it a fishmarket and allow me to get away by shouting a few pigheaded points. In short, the group was discussion was very level headed with good points flying about and various aspects discussed. It was so polite... One guy even had a chance to say a whole story and was uninterrupted. These in sum were the points I made:

1) Since the quotation is of Native Americans, it reminds me of the Incas who were riddled with infighting when the Spaniards attacked. However, even though they had knowledge of the Spanish attack, they did not have the wisdom to get together and fight the external aggressors. As a result the Spanish conquerors won and the Incas were wiped out.

2) The field of biotechnology is coming up and we need to be aware of what's coming in the future. The U.S. already has bioethics as a major stream of study and is prepared to deal with innovations in the field of biotechnology. India should also show wisdom and utilize this knowledge to build a policy framework to deal with the problems arising.

3) (This was after a guy counted in adjectives the attributes of the wise....) We should
encourage such people to come up in all fields, especially the beauraucracy where they take a lot of time to take very small decisions. Our Prime Minister announced his intention to bring in beauraucratic reforms but did not follow it up. We could have an incentive based system in the beauraucracy like in the industry to reward innovation and encourage progress.

After about 10 minutes, the interview process started (simultaneously with a couple of butterflies who decided to have an impromptu dance session in my belly). I was third in queue. Before the interview, I spent my time deciding on which singer, author was my favourite. Also asked people about the protagonists of Five Point Someone and the formulae for Laplace and Fourier Transform (which were graciously answered by an IITB 8.8 pointer). I also decided to finally read a photocopy of my form and understand whatever I had scribbled before.

The first guy coming out held the opinion that the panelists were cool and asked him amongst other things to speak on the 'Future of India 25 years down the line' for 2 mins. Then the second guy came out (and the butterflies in my belly had decided upon playing football now). I waited nervously for around 5 mins after which one of the panelists called me in... This person was a US return, I could make out from the way he pronounced the S in Saraf. (Lets call him P1 for reference). Once inside I was asked to sit by the other panelist (lets call him P2) who had a great flowing beard (which appeared to especially intimidate a candidate outside).

Both the panelists were kind of unhurried like they dont know what to ask me. There were lots of pauses in the middle and overall it appeared as if they were more or less trying to get me into a conversation rather than test something vigourously.

P1: You have no work ex....

Me: Yes Sir

P2: So Ankur, tell us something about yourself.... Your background, family....

Me: I have been born and brought up in Bombay and come from a family with a commercial background. My father is into steel trading and mother is a house wife. I am currently doing my final year electronics engineering from Sardar Patel College of Engineering.

Both quiet for 3 seconds. Me waiting........ (P1 is reading form)

P2: Why did you say commercial? What does your father do?

Me: My father has a CA degree but he is into steel trading. All the other people in my family have a B.Com degree. Infact, I am the first engineer from my family.

P2: Why did your father not start practicing CA?

Me: gave the reason

P1: So your father trades steel in Bombay?

Me: Yes Sir

Again a period of silence for 2 seconds.

P2: You have any brothers/sisters?

Me: Yes Sir. A younger brother. He is also pursuing his engineering. In the second year now.Again wait... Finally P1 finds something interesting in the form

P1: So you have written about the Mumbai Floods. Water had entered your house... (left it hanging)

Me: Well Sir, those were not exactly floods. Mumbai has not seen floods but that was the closest thing. Described my experience for around 2 mins and also why I consider it an achievement for myself...

P1: These Mumbai floods were compared to another incident... (left it hanging)

Me: The New Orleans disaster....

P1: (Nodding his head) Yes. How do you see that comparison?

Me: Sir I believe the comparison is not justified in the first place. New Orleans is below the sea level while Mumbai is above the sea level. Mumbai does not have a good drainage system but once the rains stopped the water had to go down. On the other hand water had to be pumped out of New Orleans and the levees repaired. If you still want to compare, one point could be that there was lot of theiving and looting in New Orleans while in Mumbai, people were helping each other. People had travelled 10-12 kms on foot and they were offered biscuits, water, food etc. People even allowed others to use their toilets. If you think this way, you can make a comparison.

P2: (With a loaded smile) So! Do you think we are more civilized?

Me: Depends on what you mean by civilization sir. Jim Corbett has described it very beautifully in one of his books. He says that when two people in Indian villages meet, they do not directly come to the point. First you ask the person how is he? How is his wife? What are children studying? How much are they earning? Corbett says that in his country Britain people would be offended with this enquiry. They would feel you are invading their privacy. Western people come directly to the point. So these are just cultural differences. Our culture is ours, their's is theirs. They are more individualistic whereas we are more networked, enmeshed socially. One important reason for these cultural differences I believe is the concept of anonymous trust. They have institutions there you can trust and depend on. If a person there wants to survive alone, it is possible. Whereas in India, you need contacts for very small things. So we need contacts socially. Survival without that is very difficult. That is the reason we are more social while they are not.

P1: Yes. You cannot even trust the government in India. You cannot depend on it...

Me: Yes sir! You cannot depend for your survival on the government. They have social security there which we do not have.

P1: Ok. So you know about the BPO industry? Which would be the next big thing in BPO?

Me: I think law outsourcing would be the next big thing. There is a lot of legal paperwork which US lawyers just don't want to do. I recently read that a US firm is planning to outsource legal paperwork to India. Indian law graduates are ready to do the paperwork after a bit of training. So this field would be the next big thing I think.

P1: Have you heard of medical transcription?

Me: Yes sir! I have heard of it but I dont know what it is exactly about. I think it is something related to Indian Doctors giving you the medicine or molecule name and then searching the appropriate name for the medicine in the US. But again, I dont know for sure.

P1: You have written here that you like reading Non-fiction, fiction, 'comics' (surprised at
comics). So which comics do you read? Phantom, Mandrake....

Me: I read Phantom, Mandrake.... the whole TinTin series..... (Meanwhile P2 takes the form from P1.)

P2: So. You like Captain Haddock? (With a not so loaded smile this time on)

Me: Yes Sir! In fact, why only Captian Haddock? I love all the Tintin characters. The whole of India loves them. Tintin DVDs have been translated into Hindi are selling very well even in the rural areas. The large number of languages the comics have been translated to shows us that people all over the world like them. Coming to Captain Haddock, he's the tough on the outside soft on the inside character we all love. So I like him ofcourse.

P1: You know about the Indian Pharmaceutical industry? They are on a expansion phase. Know something about their activities?

Me: This is a sector I do not know much about sir.

P1: Recently, an Indian pharmaceutical company acquired another one. Do you know?

Me: I know of this news, but I don't know which company acquired which.

P1: It was in the papers. Today's paper I think. (looking at me with the 'you didn't read this news?!?!?....' expression)

Me: Sir, I just glanced through the headlines. Didn't read the whole article. (Regretted not reading the article. I had read only the bird flu articles that too only on the 19th..... they seemed more interesting) I think it was Ranbaxy but I am not sure. I don't remember.

P1: No. It was Cipla.

Me: Ok Sir, might have been Cipla. I don't remember.

P1: But the Indian pharmaceutical industry is on a growth spree. They are expanding all over the world. Dr. Reddy's, Cipla, Ranbaxy all have expanded and acquired other companies.(some examples I didnt know and cannot recall) Do you know anything about their global expansion....

Me: Sir I had read quite a time back that if you have a drug molecule, you can make derivative out of it and patent it. There were quite a few patent wars with Indian companies involved. Also Bill Clinton said that Indian pharmaceutical companies are supplying drugs at lower prices than western companies to Africa.... So they are also doing social work in a way.

P1: He really said this?

Me: Yes Sir. Especially about the AIDS drugs.

P1: During the Mumbai floods, there was also a fire at ONGC, Bombay High drilling plant....

Me: Yes Sir. News came at night. Lots of people.... around 65 I believe were trapped. They rescued most later but 5 or 6 died. They were not able to rescue them.

P1: Yes... So we ask each candidate to speak for about 2 minutes on a topic. I was wondering if you could speak about the acquistions of Videsh... the oil fields it has been acquiring taking the view of India's energy security. You could speak on that.....

Me: (completely blank on this. Didn't even know what Videsh was) Didn't quite get you sir.

P1: (Repeated, Me still clueless... Sensed my discomfort ) You can speak on any other topic too.... anyone that you want.....

Me: Can I speak on psychological warfare. I have done a presentation on it so...

P2: Yes yes why not? (looked at P1 for confirmation.)

P1: In fact, this will be interesting, that is if you don't decide to use those techniques on us of course. (gave a big smile)

Me: Okay! So psychological warfare consists of psychological operations. It is a war of minds which aims to win a victory before the battles starts. It is basically aimed towards two purposes: Reduction of the enemy's moral, increase in the moral of own forces. Also towards winning the support of your own people. Infact Kautilya has given us the precepts of Sama,Dama, Danda, Bheda.

P1: I didn't get that..

Me: (Repeated Kautilya sentence)

P1: Who was Kautilya?

P2: (Before I could answer, said to P1)Kautilya was another name for Chanakya.

Me: (Started explaining sama, jumped to danda, then said dama)

P2: Its sama, DANA, bheda, danda

Me: Ok sir. I got the order wrong maybe

P2: Its dana

Me: yes. My mistake. (then gave meanings of dana and bheda.. Actually wasn't planning to move into this but P1 wanted the meanings. Then continued with examples of Second World War, US-Japan leaflets, leaflets used by US in Iraq. How Russia turned communism on its head to win support of own people. How Hitler blamed everything on Jews to get people to support him. Then sensed that they are getting visibly bored like you may be by now. So ended by saying that today this warfare can be fought through the new media like forums, blogs, which can affect the minds of educated ppl. Ended there) That's it sir.

P1: Ok

Me: (Thinking ok means ok 2 mins over or ok interview over.. Waited for 2 - 3 secs.... Nothing happened... then stood up)

P1: Ok Mr. Saraf ! Best of Luck!

(Whatever that means)

Phew! Ended the post! Finally! Can certainly agree with Amartya Sen now. 'Prolixity is not alien to us' (Which reminds me it was a good thing that I appeared for the GRE)

Why MBA ??

2006-02-08T18:50:00.000+05:30

The GD/PI season has started and with it has started the process of crash-course contemplations and ingenious introspections. The way it goes (atleast for the majority in India) is that you first decide you want to do an MBA and then come up with a reasonable rationalizations to convince the interviewers. And the best part about management is that it is so very vague that it accomodates each and every person with each and every background. So, even though their final goal maybe to become an investment banker with a fat paycheck, the creative career paths that people choose for themselves while 'introspecting' cannot cease to amaze an ordinary intellect. One wants to open his own music company in the future (she's received training in classical music you see) while another wants to join politics and work for the country.

The reason for this 'directionlessness' is not very hard to find. Let's start with a basic analysis. Skim through the best of India's management colleges and you find that more than 60% of the managers are engineers. A variety of reasons are provided for this, the strongest being that 'entrance test aptitude' with its emphasis on number crunching is a forte of engineers. Such is the hold of engineering graduates on management seats that any 'non-engineer' who gets into management roams about wearing his 'non-engineering' background on his sleeve. But from where I see it, it's a systemic malaise that runs deeper than mere 'entrance test aptitude'.

I think it would be a good idea to see why are so many 'management oriented' engineers produced in the first stage. The infant state of India, had provided for the creation of only two elitist autonomous institutions: the IIT's and the IIM's. While these prospered, engineering and management education grew alongside. Ofcourse the medicine, law and other such traditional professions also had their place but the IIT's created a brand-name for engineering that's hard to match in any other field. The result is for all to see. Every child of an 'above average' IQ while in school is told to prepare for the IITs. "This is where the keys of heaven of lie", he or she is explained to in no uncertain terms. Go a little high with your SSC percentage (an indication of the fact that you were able to slog/have a good rote memory/have an above average IQ) and the choice is clear. The dear little 'intelligent' child of the family is going to study science. Commerce is for the middle ones and the disgraceful liberal arts are for the immature imbeciles who were able scrape through. This mechanism ensures that the most of the 'High IQ Crowd' (HIC) is studying science.

Even while in science, the pressure is on to take up either engineering or medicine. Here again, the pure sciences are subjects for losers. So a major chunk of the 'HIC' prepares for engineering and medicine. So, some go for medicine and the rest for engineering (Engineering seats are many, plus there's are the numerous IIT hopefuls who are finally ready to settle for less). The medical grads when see a secured future, a good earning, and an amount of social respect in a society. In short, they see enough money to live on even if not comfortably enough. A non-IITian, after going through a 4 year ordeal in the sub-standard teaching-shops of the country, is asked to take up a job as part of the army of 'cheap labour' mediocre IT engineers that India produces. A quick realization dawns that the technical field was not as good as it was made out to be and India (the IITs included) is not exactly a hub of cutting edge research. It would be worthwhile to mention that some bright engineers with cash to spare take the earliest flight to the US of A. The rest take the same route that they are by now habituated to: the process of elimination. They took science because they looked down on other fields, engineering came in again because the pure sciences didn't matter and medicine was not considered/achieved. So now, the only option which promises a fat salary is management education.

Since, these are a part of the 'HIC', they are above the 'normal' commerce and arts grads when it comes to IQ. So much so, that most of those who score high on the verbal ability sections are engineers. The number crunching quantitative part is not exactly a help for grads from the other fields but this is a minor reason. (You don't see management schools teeming with math grads, do you?).

In the end, in most of the cases behind the veil of the variety of imaginative answers that crop up lies a simple reason: 'LACK OF OPTIONS'. A lack of options that plagues every generation from the time they are in school right up to the top. A lack of options with which every developing society suffers. Let us see if in future, we are able to attain that one true freedom: the freedom of choice.

'Happy Republic Day'

2006-01-27T20:17:00.000+05:30

Republic Day went past and this great land of ours started celebrating the way it does always......... by wishing each other a 'Happy Republic Day'

Is there anything as a Happy Republic Day?
I don't think we should say happy republic day, two reasons:

1) There are happy days and there are 'un'happy days and our republic day is the saddest of them all. Most of us don't even have an idea of what's the meaning of a republic. If you really want to make it happy, try knowing why is our country a republic. For a change, try reading the constituent assembly debates. Know how the nation was formed.

2) There was 'Happy Diwali' at first, a festival at which everyone was wished happiness. This was carried on to Happy Valentine's Day, Happy Friendship Day, Happy Poodle's Day, Happy Half-Baked Clay pot with broken tap day et al. Market-driven petty frivolity has grown in scale like nothing else. Spare the republic day this trivialising.