Goodbye IIMB series 1. The hot, watery coffee

Only when the Marketing of IT prof wished us good luck with our careers and ended the class, did it really hit me. It germinated from one simple though; a thought both liberating and nostalgic at the same time - that i will never again have a 8 AM class on mondays and tuesdays. Soon - by the end of this week - i will never again have classes. Full stop. No more worrying about the latest 'bunkometer' updates or surprise quizzes. I am trying hard not to think about class room sessions that corporates conduct. In any case, it will be no match for the ones here.

The truth, that my life at IIMB is coming to its own graceful halt, had been 'out there' for quite sometime. But it has so far been ruthlessly overshadowed by the approaching climax of life here on campus - the final placements. In a mad rush for bulleting my life within a one pager and trying to coax leadership and team abilities into text boxes, i had totally let the dying stages of life here slip past me. It is a totally different matter that Placements are perhaps the worst way to end your campus life. In that regard, undergrad colleges are much better. The only thing you are worried about in the final semester is extracting the maximum fun out of your campus before you leave it. Anyway, sitting there in the class, the realisation dawned and a sudden heaviness descended, which i determinedly attributed to me being asleep. In 3 more days all classes would be over. But the bigger truth was that in a little under 3 weeks my life at IIMB, classes or otherwise would cease to be the 'present' and transcend into the 'past' where i can only conjure up the images in my mind.

In a way, the classes coming to an end is an occasion to rejoice. Goodbye to boring lectures, irritating assignments, fraud reports, night outs for case submissions, project presentations and arbit CPs. To me classes at 8 AM is fraught with memories of watery and hot coffees grabbed at a rush, mouthful of morning breakfast stuffed in urgency and an uncomfortable chill that gave you fond memories of the warm bed you had just parted with. This is almost always where the memories end because once you enter the cozy confines of the class, you always end up sleeping. Its the 'going to class' part thats the most difficult especially when you are on the limits - as measured undisputably by the number of 'bunks' you have. Let me explain that,

There are three brands of students:
1. Impulse users - they use up all their legal bunks and end up attending all the remaining classes out of sheer necessity to avoid getting a D in the course,
2. Planned users - These guys would probably make the best managers, planning their bunks to perfection, making sure they have enought at the end and also making sure they use all their bunks and finally,
3. Thrifty users - These guys either use too much foresight and end up with unused bunks or they are just extremely focussed toward learning things that....whatever....

The problem for me was that inspite of trying my best to belong to the second category i always end up in the first. So if you were to walk into the campus after half a term is over and observe my behaviour pattern you would quite wrongly assume that I am a regular to classes. What you wouldnt know is that having bunked so many in the first half I....well, you get the point right? So, from that moment where you have just used up the last permissible bunk, you have to be on your toes. You just cant afford not to wake up for an 8 AM class. Life is really screwed up then!

But i would also be saying goodbye to some stimulating debates, enthralling lectures ranging from the outright humourous to the brilliantly insightful, some amazing professors and to the general concept of someone walking into a room hoping to impart knowledge to 50 pairs of appraising eyes and you being one pair in it. Thinking back, i can literally hand count the Professors i really admired and respected and considered it a crime to even bunk whose classes and standing tall among them is Prof. Ravi Anshuman. He had his own inimitable style: A measured voice with an excellent accent and an amazing way of building the concepts for you right in front of your eyes. I hated fin but I loved Corporate Finance thanks to him. Then comes the greatest performer on class i have ever seen: Ramachandran J. He thrived on challenging, intimidating and enthralling his audience to achieve the best. I would think that there was no better way to learn strategy. He knew his audience like he knew himself. He knew what your CG was, where you were going for summers, what you have scored in subjects before this etc. Its a queasy experience sitting in a class where the professor knew everything about you. I still remember in one the classes, we were analyzing Dell case, he turned to me and said, "So Mr. Tyagarajan, you are a computer science graduate, what do you think is the reason for Dell's success". A pretty inncuous question, but you had to be there to understand the gravity of it. When RamC(thats what we call him) asks you for an opinion, you just dont give it. Its like stripping off and walking on the road. You'd rather let him take the honours although you know that he is going to tear you apart no matter what. If there is one academic experience worth coming to IIMB for, it is RamC's class. Of course, its a different matter that he is one of the top consultants in the country and companies coming for recruitment go to him for advice. There were a few other professors too, who in their own way had a knack of imparting knowledge or making you think. Well, what can i say?

Thank you & Au Revoir.

Australians are now No. 2

The Australians have been setting a lot of firsts lately; those of the kind they’d rather wish they didnt. After their first 10 wicket defeat in ODIs in the first game of the Chappell-Hadlee trohpy, the series defeat has ensured that the Australians have been squeezed out of their undisputed position as the No.1 team in the ODI rankings for the first time since the system was introduced in 2002. Is it the end of an era of the great Australian dominance or is it just a classic case of a burn out?

Read the article at 'Critics corner' - Here

When John Glen landed on the moon.....

Why people think Americans are stupid. An Australian reporter interviews Americans on the street...

Watch this youtube video...its fuc**ng hilarious...

http://www.i-am-bored.com/bored_link.cfm?link_id=21629

Personal Favorites

1. Name a country that begins with 'u'
Answers: utah, yugoslavia, Utopia

2. Religion of 'buddhist' monks...
Answers: I dont know

3. Whats the currency in U.K....
A: Queen Elizabeth money?

4. Who should we invade next in our war on terror?
A: we'll make a fuckin glass crater out of the middle east for all i care.....

5. What is a mosque?
A: an animal?

6. Who is the first man on the moon?
A: John Glen

7. Which state does KFC come from?
A: What, the chicken? I dont know....

8. Star wars is based on a true story. True / False
A: True

9. What are hiroshima and Nagasaki famous for?
A: Aaahh...Judo wrestling?

10. How many Eiffel towers are there in Paris?
A: I'd say about 10

Some awesome quotes
"the fellow with the turban thing, i call it the diaper head, really.."

"Al-Qaeda is a suicide group in Isreal..ahh...middle east country...they do suicide bombs and stuff..and its...and the president of it is Yaseer Arafat....everybody knows that..."

"Al-Qaeda is a wing of the masonic order.."

"whatever he (Bush) thinks is right...he's from texas...he's got to be right"

The liveries of 2007....

Colour is doing the rounds as one of the most talked about aspects of the 2007 season, even after discounting Lewis hamilton from the headlines. Car launches have been revealing liveries ranging from the innovative to the ghastly. Liveries have been as much a part of a formula 1 car as its design and performance is. So what paint job do the machines of 2007 boast of…

Read more

Sorry blog, I cheated on you!

As chandler says in friends ..."if we are gonna cheat on our house, shouldnt it be with a hot younger looking house.."

again...apologies to my trusted blog here...but every once in a while a man needs excitement and hits ...so in case u r one of my faithful friends who happened to stumble here, go and read my article: "F1 enters a new era" at sportsnob.net

Edge

Disclaimer: Dark Stuff. No goofiness. No friendly abuse. No delightful miscommunication. No arbit science fiction. Just exploring the dark depths of human mind.

What if your worst nightmares all happened in a day. Would that tip you over the edge?

Hick stood 30 stories above the ground on the edge of the concrete parapet wall that stood between him and a violent death. His bare feet twitched on the cold and rough concrete, his chubby toes peeping over the edge down at the sidewalk several hundred meters below.

14 hours before....

Hick was happy. After all, who wasn't, on the day of his marraige. By 7:30 AM, he was already 4 hours awake into the day - he had been too excited. He and kate had decided that the ceremony was going to be small and in a local church. Only her family would be there and 3 of his closest friends. Of course, he had no family. His mother died when he was 10 and she had never talked about his father. So that left just the 3 friends he had grown up with. Kate, had a full family that would come for the wedding. The small table top clock buzzed: 7:45 AM. He had set that the night before. He walked up to the adjacent room where his friends were sleeping, "Guys, Wake up! We have to be in the church in an hour" To think they were going to be his best men. He smiled to himself as he thought of Kate getting dressed in the bridal gown in her home. She would be coming to the church with her family. Hick was happy.

This high the air was chillier and the large lightning bolts seemed to be closer and larger. As he stood, erect, his arms outstretched like he was about to fly, he shivered. A tall clock tower nearby glowed brightly, its unceasing roll of hands pausing that moment over 9:45 PM.

12 hours before....

Hick sat speechless in shock and fear totally oblivious to the chaos around him. Nurses rushing like hushed ghosts and doctors talking in whispers. The long white corridors with white walls marred up to half its height with a gray paint. He looked down at his hands. Blood. His tux was covered in blood too. He looked up directly at the bright light bulb in front of him. Somehow he didnt squint. His eyes stared right through it. A small door to the left read 'Emergency' and lay uninvitingly close. Far away, in one end of the corridor a small window let the bright morning sunshine drift into the hospital.

He needed to find out how Kate was. If she was treated then maybe they could go and continue what they left off: get married. It was totally out of plan, sitting here in the hospital. Today was only about marraige. But how the hell was he going to get married without Kate. He laughed loudly.

"Hick!", he broke out of his reverie. Kate's mom. Her eyes tear streaked, her lips quivering. Kate had told him that she was always easily scared and nervous. He smiled patronisingly, "Kate.",she whispered.
"Kate'll be alright mrs. Tyler. Sit down and rest", saying he moved in the visitors couch to let her sit.
Mrs. Tyler began to sob hysterically and it began to irritate him a little.
"Hick", she gasped between sobs,"Kate is dead!"

Far away, down in the streets there was a festive mood. Shops were covered in cheerful lights and Parents were shopping with their children. Boys were buying gifts for their girlfriends. Traffic was clogged. Red clad santa clauses stood in front of buildings giving wide beaming smiles at children and demure girls. Churches were holding special masses. After all, it was the christmas eve. Time for festivities. But that was all far far away.

Up here, several hundred meters above the ground, the world was different. The air was several degrees colder. It was dark and foreboding. Tall, Dark buildings stretched on all sides like cold monsters. Far away the sea could be seen, covered in a deadly silver sheen of the moon light. Up here, it was all evil and gray. And Hick was all alone.

6 hours before.....

He had sat in devastating silence in his office. He didnt know why he came there. He couldn't stand the hospital anymore. The crazy woman, Kate's mom, kept repeating that she was dead. He had to get out of there, at least Kate became alright. He couldnt go home. Somehow it seemed uninviting. So he had sauntered into his office on a sunday. In the cool confines of his office away from the maddening mid day heat. He switched on his friendly computer and enjoyed its pleasant glow.

"Hick", his boss. He didnt expect to see him here on a sunday.
"Oh, hi"
"I've got to talk to you Hick. Please come into my office"

4 hours before.....

Being fired is not pleasant. Especially if your boss accuses you of malpractice that you had no idea of. Hick roamed listlessly on the streets bumping through the crowd and trying to make sense. Disgrace...ashamed...thief...words kept ringing in his ears. He laughed hysterically. Great day so far. His marraige didnt happen and his Boss had given him a holiday. He wanted to talk to his three friends. It would be a great story, woudnt it.

Hick began to look for them...

2 hours before....

Hick had just walked out of the bar with his 3 friends. They were drunk and racous. It had been great; dinking with the three of them. A perfect way to cap a great day. Hick laughed and his words slurred with alchohol. That was when it happened. Screech of tires and a loud cry of pain. One of his friends lay there under the large SUV, its frightened teenage occupant stumbling out...


15 minutes before....

Hick had calmy walked into the building and taken an elevator to the thirtieth floor. Then he had climbed the small set of stairs onto the terrace.

He had come this far. From the morning just 12 hours before. 12 hours of digesting, assimilating and mulling over the events that were too incredulous to believe. Fate had dealt one massive, deadly blow after another. The sickly white hospital corridors, the retchingly yellow street lights, the blindingly lit office space, the dark alleyway - all the worst nightmares becoming a reality within 12 hours. Nightmares you woundn't wish on your worst enemy.

He stepped closer to the edge. He swayed slowly on the edge, a momentary hesitation and fear making him immobile. Jump, a voice screamed and it will all end. He turned down and gasped. The street was too far off. It was going to be painful. And 30 stories of horrified flight, screaming, arms flailing. Maybe, he needed to review his mode of death. What if he just took some pills. Or just shot himself. But he would need a gun for that which he could not purchase without a license. He was just wasting time, the voice said again. Just jump.

He nearly jumped but stopped himself as he saw Kate. She stood on the terrace smiling blissfully at him with his friend and his boss. Ah, they were all there. His life was back to normal. So, like he had done for the past 15 years he stepped off the edge and walked back to his room. Hick was a poor man, a man who had lost his job over no fault of his own 20 years ago, a friend to a terrible accident 18 years ago and his wife on the day of his marraige on a beautiful christmas day of 1990. As he walked back to his room talking to his wife, the city rolled happily towards the christmas of 2006.

Fear of death can do wonders.