Rainolism

Rains are here again! When it rains in Mumbai, it pours. A hell lot of technological advances has created a lot of alternate 'things to do' in this season, apart from the obvious 'getting drenched'. Social media featuring prominently amongst them.

• Facebookers to the rescue of meteoro'logical' department (Category: Social Media) I can't remember the last time we saw 'logic' in the department's predictions. Today, the number of friends you have on social media platform helps you plan. For those who got drenched on their way to office, how many times do you have to be reminded to check the status updates of your friends before making plans! If there are status updates remotely close to 'I got drenched', 'stuck in a jam at Andheri', 'Milan subway is clogged', 'Just walked through knee deep waters to reach office' etc., then you know what to expect. So look out for the update. If your friends consider themselves even remotely 'cool', you can bank on them to update their status via mobile of his/her herculean task of beating the rains at their own game. 'Sharing' is your ticket to social acceptance.
• Facebookers to the rescue of News Channels (Category: Social Media) It's considered hip to be the first to update 'It's raining.' The fact that you are not blind to see it yourself does not matter because your friends had the grey cells to identify that it is actually water coming down from the clouds above. And like Archemedes, they emphatically updated their status message with this discovery to stake their claim of being the most clued on. Life is a race brother, and Facebook is the Olympics. An optional 'I love rains. Don't you?' is a good conversation starter.
• The Kite Runner (Category: Things 'to do' in office) Buy a car, dude. And wish for the rains to come down heavily. And then pray for the source of your attention to leave office when it is raining the heaviest. There are a lot of kites without strings flying around, especially in this season. Glances will turn into smiles, then to conversations and finally to the coffee table, if you are willing to offer a ride back home. Mumbai rains, Mumbai traffic and Mumbai's auto/taxi drivers combine to make a dangerous concoction and you can play the antidote! Rains can bring out the gold digger in you. Time to get working!
• The age old adage (Category: Lifestyle) Come rains, and it's 'Late to Office, Early to home' for Mumbaikars. Who says Pub's defined the term 'happy hours'?

Enjoy the rains!

The Ragpicker

I dedicate this short story to Stephen Anthony, my brother from the blogworld and The Solitary Writer. This short story is for the 200th post on your blog which you had honoured me with, Ste. Hope you like my attempt at fiction :-)
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Mornings without my toast sandwich at Durga's was unimaginable. Like a daily ritual, lured by the taste of Babubhai's sandwiches, which has a tendency to linger on your tongue well after its consumed, I would end up daily at this roadside joint for my bite. Today is no different. Here I am, biting into my toast sandwich. Savouring the melting butter and crunchy bread in my mouth. I look around me. Everyone is in a tearing hurry. Motorbikes zig zag their way through the traffic while irritated drivers shout at the ones in front sticking their heads out of their vehicles, egging them to move. The chirping of birds gets lost in the constant honks of motor vehicles. Its mayhem everywhere. Curses and abuses flow around like it were running out of fashion. A Parsi looking guy is concerned about the scratch the speeding motorbike just left on his brand new car. His abuses get lost in another set of honks from the vehicles behind him. Two Muslim women take advantage of the halt and cross the road along with their children. They walk past me shaking their heads and cursing the rising traffic related problems of this city. I see a young man get out of his rickshaw stuck in the jam and making his way to the front with files clutched tightly in his hands. All set for the interview, I think. I can feel the tension writ large on his face. He hardly notices the beggar who pleads him for alms, but folds his hands and seeks blessings from the temple at the corner while still finding his way out of this jungle of vehicles. Pleading for Divine intervention. Strange how our prayers are so dependent on each other. For beggar, it would have been like answer to his prayers if the young guy would have dropped a couple of nickels in his bowl. And the young chap desires divine help to impress the person he is going to meet, so that he drops the job offer in his bowl. In this sea of vehicles and irritated audience, there is hardly anyone who has a smile on his face. I see tense faces, angry ones, irritated bunch and the vocal lot.

Babubhai places my tea on the table. I take a sip and marvel at the fact that how conveniently we have forgotten to smile. There are seemingly a million forces at work to wipe off that smile from your face. All that matters is how to cling on to the next rope from the one that you are hanging from presently. All I see around is childhood lost. Innocence raped. Conscience murdered.

I glance at my watch. Its 9:00 am. Time to move. I gulp the remnants of my cup and head to clear my dues. I let out a small shriek at the new set of honks from the background. That's when I notice the little ragpicker behind this bread stall, combing through the garbage and sorting out stuff. In that moment, to me his garbage bag looks like the route to salvation for all the discarded articles within his sight. Those who go into his back are in with a chance for a better tomorrow while the others retire to their destiny. The ragpicker goes about his business and moves his hands through the garbage like an expert. His hands have been trained to sift wheat from the chaff. He has been thrown in front of life to face its brutalities and survive, while his peers are parroting their way through Darwin's theory of survival of the fittest. Strange are the ways of nature.

My thoughts are interrupted with a sudden change of expression on the face of the ragpicker. He seems to have come across something significant for him to let go off his bag and get completely involved with the catch. At a closer glance, I recognize the wrapping. A bar of chocolate. As the ragpicker unwraps his find, I can see a beam of happiness in that smile of his. The smile of contentment. Unwary and uncaring of what lies ahead in the day. Just enjoying this moment of bliss. Living in the moment. I smile having witnessed this scene. I silently wish how better off we would be if we could start living and enjoying the moment while it lasts instead of worrying about what lies ahead. I silently wish for some sanity in this seemingly insane world. I silently wish for the lost childhood in each one of us. I silently wish for a better tomorrow.

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*Pic courtesy : Sandwich wallah - Novin

The Classroom

It felt great coming back to college after 15 years. Nothing had changed. The same old classrooms, same old corridors, same old stairways winding upwards and that same old welcoming breeze. I felt immune to the chill of Delhi winters from the moment I stepped into the School of Management. Guess it's something that places you feel secure in does to you. You feel that invisible, securing presence around you. I walked straight towards my classroom, to unlock all the memories that I had fought back for 15 long years.



The entrance to the classrooms had been freshly painted with a coat of cream colour. It looked seemingly wet. It arrested my impulse to push open the doors and soak in the feeling of being present in the room that had shaped me. To unlock all the memories the room held. I could pay a fortune to shout, "Present Sir", when the professors would call out "Nisha Nayak". 15 years of climbing the corporate ladder had given me all the comforts I could have asked for when I started off. I was happily married with two kids. I had the most caring husband I could have asked for. And I loved him, atleast tried my best to. However hard I would try, I could never love someone as much as I had loved Nishant. This was the classroom where we had spent countless hours discussing about everything under the sun. He was the craziest and funniest person I had ever known. If only I could have told him that I loved him, then maybe things would have been different today. But maybe he didn't love me. Atleast he would have told me so if he did, despite him being the most shy guy on planet when it came to matters of love. Wasn't that what I loved about him most? The way he would blush when you tried teasing him. Atleast I should have tried getting out his feelings for me. Wasn't I waiting for a mere "Do You?" from his side to succumb? Or was it just the figment of my imagination? I would never know. He was as friendly with other girls as he was with me. Neither was I among the prettiest, nor the smartest to even dream of a "Yes" from his side. So why would I have bothered asking him out? Aren't boys supposed to do that? Things are so much easier for today's generation with emails & mobile texts & what not! Ask me how difficult it was to bring pen to paper. The little notes I used to leave for Nishant in the secret compartment of our desk, the existence of which only we two knew, and waiting for his replies were the only thing I looked forward to. How I wished one of those notes would contain an "I Love You" scribbled somewhere in between those lines. Till the very day he left before us at the end of the course for a family emergency, I had waited and prayed for him to express his feelings. I was such a fool in believing that Nishant loved me. But I knew I did, because I have never felt anything as pure and as strong as my feelings towards him till this date. Not even towards my husband for 10 years. My every morning used to start with him by my side in the classroom and end with him waving me goodbye. I had learnt to live without him. Last 15 years I had shut his memories away. Till this very day when this classroom brought back all those moments back.


I could not control myself and swinged open the doors. The smell of wood and chalk filled my nostrils. I glanced at my watch. 7:30 am. There was still time before students of the current batch would start trickling in. I was scheduled to give a guest lecture at 9 am. I stood at the centre and ran my eyes through the semi circle arrangement of seats. They hadn't changed the furniture. Just a fresh coat of polish had left the old benches shining like new. My row was the fourth from the start. I saw there were two Nisha's in this batch and their nameplates were in place where me and Nishant used to sit. I walked towards those seats, minus the spring in my steps back in college days when the mere thought of sitting besides Nishant would send my pulse racing. I sat on my seat and looked around to visualise my other batchmates around me. Did I even notice who all sat where back then? My mind used to be so preoccupied with Nishant that it did not have the faintest clue about the surroundings. Questions came crashing again to my mind. Why did he have to leave like this without a single word? Why hadn't he left his number with any of his friends or on the official records? Why had he not come to me before leaving? He couldn't even wait to bid me goodbye. Even if he didn't love me the way I used to, we were friends enough for him to say those parting words to me. For me, the relation with this classroom ended the day Kaveri told me that Nishant had to leave for his home all of a sudden. It didn't make much of a difference because our final exams were over and after a week more of formalities and paperwork, we were all headed to our homes & careers. I had not stepped into this classroom since then. Someone had sucked the life out of this classroom. Till this very moment, I had done pretty well to resist a place I simply loved being in. I settled in my seat which was a routine for me 15 years back. I looked at my desk and ran my hands on it. On impulse, my hands reached out for the bottom of the desk to slide out the small shaft of wood. Then as if acting on a mind of its own, the fingers reached out for a small box shaped wooden box open at the sides from under the shaft. Our little secret box. Where me and Nishant used to leave small notes for each other. I pulled it out. Seemed like no one had discovered this place post our times. I placed the box at the desk. For a moment I couldn't beleive my eyes. There was a note tucked in there. With trembling hands I pulled out the yellow note and opened it.


"Dearest Nisha. I have always loved you. I don't know if you do love me as well. I don't have the guts to ask you out and face rejection. A lot has happened in the last 24 hours. My stepmother has filed for a divorce from Dad for reasons I don't know and Dad has suffered a major stroke an hour back. I have to immediately leave for home. I have not told anyone anything about this personal mess up of my family. But before leaving, I just wanted to confess my love and not live with the feeling that I never tried. I know you will check this secret cabinet for sure tomorrow morning when you attend classes, like we do as a ritual every day. And If you love me as well, please call me at my home #022-34332. No regrets if you don't, because you have taught me what falling in love with someone is. You have taught me there are reasons apart from breakfast to look forward to in a new day when you retire to bed. You have taught me the wonders a smile of a loved one can do on you. And every day of the last two years, I have lived every moment just to see that smile on you. You bring sunshine into my dark life every morning with your note in our secret compartment. Just wanted you to know. I love you. Nishant"

A few drops blotted few words on the note. Drops of my bleeding heart.

Alumni Ki Kahaani, Unki Zubaani - Blogisode 1

The world is crazy. Managers crazier! So how can the students turned "so called" managers who passed out of the hallowed portals (*Conditions apply) of the School of management be any different? The yeM Bee yAe team tracks down some well known alumnus from the School of Management and presents in a 2 min capsule their struggles with this crazy world. How have these guys managed to survive the system? How have they managed to tackle the pressures of life? What is their secret ingredient?

This whole new reality blog series puts these alumnus under the microscope of humour and shares their secret of success with the mortals.

Recruit 1: Nal-jyoti Kumar (Batch XIV)

And the juggernaut rolls......

Pentagon Speaks - Placements (II)

Hi,

I am the Pentagon reporting from the School of Management. Yes...Yes...we had our first round of introductions in the last post. A lot has happened in the last 10 days. I have become popular amongst you all. I have also featured prominently on Channel V's "Dare to Date" this Friday, supporting the weight of two dumb souls. And all the while I was thinking that I am located in a B-School and could feature only on CNBC's of the world like I have in the past. You can still catch me on the re-runs of the last episode of the show on Channel V till the next one goes on air the coming Friday. So be tuned in to Channel V. For all those who missed, catch the episode HERE. And no, that guy is not from the School of Management. Infact, we don't have a BBA course here! Lies media blurt out for locations!

Things at the School of Management are a bit tensed at present. With the first leg of placements over, and the end terms taking over, we are heading towards the most tense period and the last leg of placements. A relaxed 2010 for some, and a tense, make or break 2010 for the less fortunate souls.

Continuing from where I left in the last post, where I helped categorize students who have been placed/are in the process of being placed into different universal categories, comes my next post. We unraveled the mystery of one category and will lift the veil of a new cateogry in this post. Understanding what goes behind the transformation of these normal batchmates of yours into superheroes. Any resemblance to anyone living or dead is purely coincidental

• Category 2: IT (Impotent Tigers)
  

The less fortunate. The tensed lot. The dreamers who live a thousand dreams the night before the placement process. But companies need the real thing. Dreams alone do not satisfy a salivating company. This lot is clueless on "How to satisfy" a company and are usually seen taking every bit of advice from the fertile ones. Generally, 40% of every batch suffer from this common disease.

The identity and status of this bunch is revealed on the first night itself. Like in all arranged marriages, where your snaps can transport you all the way to the altar but from there its your ability to please your wife after the ceremonies that determines the course of your married life. This category of students manage to reach the altar to tie the knot with their prospective employer on the swayamvar stage, basis the strength of their CV's. But more often than not, they fizzle out when it comes to stamina and style, when the company "makes out"* with them for the first time. (*To be read as "Group Discussions Leg")


Like all heartbroken "would be" rejected prospects, they desperately seek divine blessings and stamina increasing capsules in the form of advises to leave their mark in the rannbhoomi, but the fear of performing when it matters most consumes them in its wake. You can identify the students from this category if you watch out for the following signs:

• Clean shaven and upbeat on days when the company is on campus, bearded and forlorn look at all other times
• The one who is there at every process for their friends, and breaks out into wild celebrations the moment the news of their placement reaches him. When alone, curses their good luck and his fate at not being at his place.
  
• Looks towards the sky while sipping tea, as if searching for answers from the cosmic being
• Dialogues like, "I am not worth it", "I am useless", "Mera kuch nahi ho sakta", "Kismat hi footi huvi hain", "What on earth does the company want?", "Why me?", "I was the best out there, still they selected him and not me"

Pentagon's advice to this lot. Don't change your style based on recommendations/advises from the guru's/baba's* of your batch (*to be read as "placed batchmates"). Their tablets won't help you in any way. Use your natural style and be at it. There are companies out there who love impotency. Just wait for your time. The high expectations ones were never meant for dreamers. Those babes are high on maintenance. But yes, keep practicing that start-stop mechanism and see loads of X-rated movies* (* to be read as "Keep yourself updated on current topics by reading newspapers") to build up on the stamina to prepare yourself. Keep yourself oiled for that all important night. Whenever it comes. It will come for sure. Pentagon da promise.

Always remember my words: Impotency can be cured. Pessimism can't.

Pentagon Speaks - Placements

Hi. I am the Pentagon. The Pentagon at the School of Management. Yes, the pentagon! The center point. The meeting point. The eating point. The mating point* (Conditions apply). I see. I reflect. I absorb. I analyze. I scrutinize. I wonder. I squirm. I yell. I scream. I Celebrate. I Cry. I know it all. I am the Pentagon. The one who sees it all. The one who is better placed than a MBA, and placed in a MBA college. A prestigious one for that matter (*Challenges to these claims are Subject to Delhi Jurisdication)

From the thin ones to the fatso's, from the hot ones to the utter disgusting ones, from the pervert ones trembling with excitement to the ones sweating before placement interviews, from the joint ones to the aching ones; I have seen them* all, supported them* all (*to be read as "bums"). I have braved scorching summers and numbing winters to tell tales of batch after batch, wave after wave. Well, more about me later. Let me get into the current mood of the campus and analyze the package fever and profile hunger that has gripped the current batch, like dozens before them. "That time of the year" is back on campus. So, I decided to start off with placements in my first interaction with the outside world and inside pentagon warmers.

In the first few posts, I will help categorize students who have been placed/are in the process of being placed into different universal categories. We will unravel the mysteries of one category every post and understand what goes behind the transformation of these normal batchmates of yours into superheroes. Any resemblance to anyone living or dead is purely coincidental

• Category 1: Premature Ejaculation Heroes
  

The paupers turned heroes/heroines. This category of students climax before the third company arrives on campus. 5% of every MBA batch suffers from this syndrome approximately, out of which 1% manage to hit and seed their offspring in the companies womb.

These select bunch stand apart, not only getting richer by many lakhs in the form of a placement offer but also turn preachers and consultants for their "yet-to-be-placed" 99% batchmates, transforming what was an accident by design into a planned, goal oriented approach.
For an outsider, you can differentiate these elite bunch from the rest by these following signs:

• Usually surrounded with a group of people.
  
• The only one speaking in the group of students trembling with fear.
  
• Animatedly gesturing and explaining things to wonder eyed juniors.
  
• If you overhear someone speaking these lines, then he/she is definitely from the premature ejaculation category: "I always wanted to be in this company", "Fulfilled a long cherished dream", "Just plain lucky, but yaa...I always knew I would make it", "Read Economic Times, like i do", "This is how you should approach your interviews", "Companies look for candidates who are....", "Just be yourself. And the company should be able to see these qualities in you...like..."

These select bunch carry on these medallions of "first ones to be placed" like lifetime achievement awards and tend to associate everything that follows afterwards with this achievement of theirs. Few examples would be, "Ofcourse I know. XYZ did not take me just like that!", when challenged in discussions, Active involvement in group presentations with statements like, "The flow of this presentation is not right bro. It should be like this....", pick up line with cute/handsome juniors like, "Hi. Mohini here. The one who got placed with Not-So-Smart Rhombus. Ya, the first one...right...now dont embarass me. It was just sheer luck. But, do read Economic times regularly. It helps. You need to gear up for the rigors next year. By the way, why not discuss it over coffee??"

This VIP status also helps them decimate competition when it comes to wooing outsiders and win a brownie point against potential competition. An example to help you understand this better. Say, Aashish who has already been placed sees Jiggy chatting away to glory with a hot girl from the neighborhood college. If he wishes, he can always go one up and even win the attention of the girl with a simple line like, "Hi Jiggy! Was searching for you buddy. I got the offer letter today boss. By the way, I heard you have not been shortlisted for Cheap Chemicals. Not to worry bro. Everyone has a day *glances at the hot girl besides Jiggy* Hey...Hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii"

Hats off to the Premature Ejaculation Heroes.

Next post for the dissection and analysis of a new category.

News Article: Was The Hacking a Statistical Attack?

*Disclaimer: This is purely a work of fiction and a figment of writers imagination*

Dec 1, 2009
Qutab Institutional Area, New Delhi

In a shocking turn of events, what was being touted as the most intelligent and purposeful hacking ever carried out on the site of an educational site is now turning out to be an act of rivalry carried out with meticulous perfection. The truth was unearthed by a team of experts who could see traces of regression, ANOVA and t-test in the patterns of photos that were uploaded on the new site of this college. This startling discovery paved way for a sudden twist to this now famous case, taking the suspicion off Mr. Saurabh Baju to the statistical tools expert, Mr. Haar-NO Bindra.

"Hacking my foot! I only know how hard it was to code when I was working, and this hacking is way out of my league! I was holidaying and cooling my brains in the heat of Jaipur after putting in my heart and soul into this new site for more than a month. A well deserved break I call it. And what 70% photos are you talking of? I am there in only 3 photos out of two dozen on the site, a clear sign that regression was applied while planting this. And there is only a single guy in the batch who uses these statistical tools where it is least required, like it were running out of fashion. And that is my very good friend, Mr. Haar-NO Bindra", said a visibly shocked Mr. Baju, the co-coordinator of the Brandy Cell, who was apparently greeted with lot of loud cheers and a heroic welcome on his return to college today. A closer analysis at the patterns of photographs appearing on the site clearly show that Factorial ANOVA has been used by the hacker to find the effect of two independent variables, Baju and college.

A first year student from the college, Mr. P.K. Talli gave us some more insights, "Haar-NO is a dear friend of mine. No....no...you heard it wrong.....Not "Hor-Ny".....it's "Haar-No"....my bengali accent makes it sound like Hor-Ny most of the times. Haar-No's grasp over all the subjects amazed me the very first day I interacted with him. Its only when I read my marketing and statistics text books for the mid-term, that the realization dawned on me that Haar-No had explained something completely different from what was written here and made no sense whatsoever. Nonetheless, I thought that maybe the college imbibes in you this skill of developing your own theories and thereby letting you widen the scope of existing models. I got it that very day that he is destined for great things. I remember him telling me that one thing he hates most is DISCO experience holders. He even helped me explain why, by sketching out an elaborate model on how DISCO directly opposed the 4P's of setting up a Brandy Cell. Though I was watching porn when he was presenting the idea to my batch, I supported him for the Brandy Cell. Ofcourse there was a need for one because of the distance between the college and border where we get it cheaper, wherein the germ of the idea was born. But Bindra started sensing competition in Baju, who worked his ass out to make it a reality. Who on earth would have known that Haar-No would keep that in mind and apply all the statistics that he uses right from deciding on what to have for breakfast to which bedsheet to use in cracking this sinister plot? Imagine the genius of a guy who uses Marketing mix model, which is often used to optimize promotional tactics with respect to profit, in day to day life by using it time and again in all the discussions with Professors. No wonder he fares well in all CP. Some jealous souls call it DCP, but I feel it requires great skill, patience and planned approach, which is commendable. Such a genius plot which requires great knowledge of statistical tools and promotional marketing could have been cracked by the one and only, Mr. Haar-No Bindra".

Mr. Haar-No Bindra was not available for comment. Neither has an official declaration been made by the brandy cell despite wonder eyed junior girls, who made a big sacrifice by skipping the afternoon Ranbir Kapoor movie, doing a demonstration outside the Cell demanding justice for Mr. Baju. All the single senior guys participated in this demonstration whole-heartedly outside the college, while the single junior guys were strictly asked by FCD to remain in their classes or else get their names striked out of summer placements.

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yeM yeS Swaminathan
yeM Bee yAe Campus News Correspondent