It all started with a lollipop

The earliest memory I have of life is one of sucking a lollipop in the back of my dad's car and staring at a high rise tower on the roadside. I went to this school sixteen kilometers away from my house in a bus which made a funny noise when the doors opened that made all of us kids laugh. The school had tall buildings, but somehow I could never go higher than the second floor because after that there was a door that was blocked by mops, buckets and everything else that Ryaaju used to keep there. Now that made me very angry, because I wanted to go places, and I tried to make up for it by tucking a wooden scale halfway down my bag, so that I looked like a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle. None of my teachers ever understood this, and they sent me home with notes in my diary saying restless, naughty and a million other synonyms. We had parent-teacher meetings, where I would sit with my most guilty face ever, and yet many times my teachers didn't melt. Maybe the one thing I am very grateful to my mother for is that she never let me screw up in acads, because of which I always did well in exams. Anyway, school was a lot of fun, because I got to see people who were different from me, and who did different things that made me want to do all those things as well. I had a Tabla teacher who liked me so much that he gave me a chance to play on stage at the age of 13, somehow I never thought of it as being a celebrity back then. I still remember that it was in class 8 that I saw two of my friends, a guy and a girl sit next to each other eating the same  Choki Chokiand it made me sick because it was like tasting someone else's saliva. It took me long enough to realize that they were more than just friends. Five years later that friend of mine died in an accident, and the girl moved on. That was when I started really praying. I always feel real prayer is when your prayers go up in the same language as you think in. 

Anyway, by then I had finished my class twelve and as I said earlier, I wanted to see places and I came to India excited at the idea of studying without two pairs of eyes boring into the back of my head - the proverbial independence that every teenager wants in his life. I had my first big fight at the end of my first year of engineering, and I ended up at the wrong end of many shoes. I realized in college that there were people who thought acads wasn't important and I kept thinking they were real cool. I remember trying to be like them, and playing a lot of computer games just to show that I could be as cool as them. As I soon discovered, this never got me anywhere and the guys who studied hard and did nothing else got far ahead of me. I never made my peace with that, and so my graduation looks like the struggle of a country for its place in the Security Council when it can't feed almost half its population. I cribbed most of the time, and rejoiced like anything when I made little victories. I burst my first Diwali crackers at the age of sixteen (since they were banned in Bahrain)  and I went berserk dancing in my first Sherwani at my college fest. I had my share of ups and down in engineering, and somehow I'm very grateful to God for giving me an exit option when it mattered most. The good part was that the option looked so good that even when I didn't know what I was getting into, I was so proud of what I did in CAT that the rest of my life waned in comparison and it just didn't make any sense doing anything else. 

 

One year and five months later, I am still lingering at the business school I joined. I am still restless and naughty and all those things. I still want to go places, and I love being amidst people and watching how they behave and think and how their minds work.I still burst crackers and love getting dressed up in a Sherwani on Dandiya and Diwali nights. But there are other things too. I fight with people a lot less, because in my head, people have become black boxes and you can predict what they will do when you tell them something. So I'm just careful with my words. I do a lot worse in exams than I used to in school, but I'm sure that's only because my mom's eyes aren't boring into the back of my head.  I feel great when I can help someone...being here has given me my first chance to see underprivileged people and do something for them. It feels awesome when you yell irrationally at a bunch of seventy people and they actually listen to you; my tutorials have given me a chance to experience that. An investment bank heading for the abyss offered me a job, only to drop down the abyss faster. 

And here I am, trying to figure out what I want to do in life, because as Richard Harris says in the Chamber of Secrets, it's our choices and actions that define us, and not our abilities. Sometimes I think I should just get myself to some sort of a school and teach there, as I so like blabbering. Sometimes I think doing a nonprofit job is really cool, as you're being selfless and all that. Sometimes I just want to get rich and richer, so that I can cool my heels at the end of the day and watch a movie of my choice in my home theater. Most of the time, I just wish time would stop so that I wouldn't have to think about what'll happen in four months' time...

Ten excuses not to brew potions

#10 - The iPod, the Airport Express and Homecoming

Recovering from credit risk since comrade IIMB-ian on the trading desk refunded Macau loan. Thinking about how to spend the inflow of Mandarin money in the light of country exit in the offing. Impulse buy of the Apple iTouch. Ripping the setup for iTunes out of the air on the way to airport while listening to Mandarin expletives from the taxi driver about Hong Kong traffic and expatriate travellers in general. The great download of Shrek 1,2,3 from the airport net, the conversion to MP4 and burning the iPod. Watching animated movies on flight and getting Mandarin expletives from the airhostess on refusing to respond to her calls for grub. Landing at Dubai airport and sending first emails from inside an aircraft. Laughing at my own kiddishness. Arriving home. Glad it's all over.

#9 - Thrifty or Spendthrift?

Waking up to the scary sound of the new alarm clock in my room. Looking around for people to go shopping for gifts with. Experiencing the all-time lowest of convincing skills. Breaking suitcase in frustration. Travelling to SOGO looking like the kid in Baby's Day Out. Nearly escaping death as the doors closed on the metro. Entering huge hypermarkets stacked one over the other with immense number of branded items all over the place. Hunting from top floor to base floor looking for a map of the place. Paying $1600 for a $2500 suitcase that sold for $4800 online. Perfume shopping with glamorous sales attendants and scenting coffee beans all over the place. Splurging the equivalent of 20,000 native currency on a single day. Feeling high about it. Dragging $5000 worth of items through a tram ride which cost $2 less than the usual $4 that it took for a cab.

#8 - The Review

The beginning of all the hype of the offers. The sole ride to Citibank tower from Island Pacific, where the only sound was the nasal Chinese voice on the radio. And Nattu chewing the proverbial apple. Tensions in creating presentation among numerous assignments from DC, DD and NP. Talk about how more work meant more interest and frustration should be an optimistic sign. Search for pseude presentation templates in the bowels of the computer hard drive. Loss of all templates found to other interns to be left stranded on the island of powerpoint with nothing but a laptop to give hope. Major fight in creating first ever template - with profuse help from God's own lands. Making the presentation with 4 hours of sleep the night before. Pat-on-the-back. Distress at seeing others getting more pats-on-the-back. Realization that it's all stupidity. Post-realization peace.

# 7 - The Great Gambler

Waking up to bad moods and the wrong side of the bed earlier than 9 am on a Saturday morning. The ubiquitous and condescending call from Subbu about how I was unwelcome at Macau and all that. Forced presence, nonetheless. Boat ride to Macau with Latheman, Topper and Subbu. Gaping at snaking bridges that go up and down and whose structures belie realism. Travelling by lift to the tenth highest tower on earth and trying to jump thence. Understanding how weather derivatives make money after plans were foiled. Hesitant entry to the casino at the Venetian. Gambling 20 cents with fellow RBS intern and converting it to $300. Splurging the three hundred and two hundred more on Sic Bo. Planning strategy with expected value greater than nought. Realization that trading on technicals makes no sense. Ferry ride back poorer and wiser. And crazier. 

# 6 - Payday

Getting the only spam email that is welcome - the paycheck link. Jumping with joy with comrade strategist on discovering we got a hundred and ninety dollars more in relocation allowance. Putting never-before efforts into using Bloomberg to convert HKD to INR and revelling at the rise of oil price. Speaking back home for the longest international call ever made, even as fellow interns spiritedly aviated over Lan Kwai Fong.

# 5 - Of dogs and babes

Trip with Puri and the rest of the Kolkattans to this cute little island. 50 year old expats, 25 year old local wives, kids and dogs. That sums up Discovery bay. Trekking on the mountains there. Fellow strategist rediscovering his farmer blood, and planting trees in Hong Kong. Walking back and sitting on the artificial sand on the artificial beach with artificial sea creatures floating about in real sea water.

#4 - The bull, the China, no shop

Accepting mementos all with the seal of the Merrill bull from "mother". Getting escorted out from the cool shelters of human resources by the business manager to the Strategic Solutions Group. Perusal by the Managing Director, and subsequent summing up. Discovery of the pantry, the internet and of how to use the phone. Meeting up with Kolkattan intern and fellow strategic analyst MK. Birth of the cynical banker here.

#3 - Flight to the Orient

Crashing down head first into the spacious Cathay Pacific seats, and taking in the stench of Subbu's nicotine abuse before dozing off. Waking up to find thin-eyed airhostesses pulling Subbu's neck to make the seat upright. Realizing that I had missed dinner, and breakfast, and lost everything that I had paid Rs 37000 for. Calling the airhostess for a glass of orange juice five minutes before landing. Listening to Chinese rebukes outside a martial arts movie as a consequence for the first time. Not liking it.

#2 - Mumbai Mania

Entering the Mumbai office with Subbu, Maggie and Mamta looking like a scene from Kaante. Discovering that Jayanthi Bajpai was a top guy at the company. Sleeping through his monologue. I am Prabh, and you can call me God, he said. Bending steel rods and walking on glass. Tonga-riding with five smartly suited B-schoolers from Marine Drive to the Taj. Realization that that was the wrong place to be, and the tonga ride back to the Taj President. Bargaining from Rs 500 to Rs 300, for a journey that would've taken us Rs 30 by taxi.

#1 - The beginning

Arriving an hour and a half late at the Mumbai airport. Walking out to find amazing buildings looking nothing like the dirthole we expected. Catching the worst possible taxi in vicinity. Fitting in 2 huge suitcases into the dikki. Chal jaayega, bhaai saab. Travelling at 100 kilometres an hour, and reaching the Taj in 40 minutes flat. Getting out alive.

To You, with love

Dear Man-or-woman-who-lives-above-the-clouds

Everytime I write to you the letter never reaches you because the post-office uncle thinks I'm mad. So this time I will write to you through the latest thing people have come up with - the internet. This time others will read it - and you will therefore HAVE to reply.

So how's it up there? Doesn't it get lonely and cold up there? Well, yeah, you built this place, so there's nothing to say you didn't make a jacket for yourself. But still, sitting up there and looking down at us? That would make me dizzy.And maybe bored...I don't know.

Guess you're managing all those pantheons of "big" gods and "little" gods we believe in as well. You should really write to me about those sometime - are they like delimited? Oh - I haven't told you - it's a software term. What I meant to ask was whether gods are restricted to airspace and they're not allowed to violate each other's property. It'll make a lot of sense to us if you tell us how that politics across space works - because many times we think of you and your support system up there when we're abroad and we're in some trouble.

I don't know you. No, I don't mean that I have not seen you or whatever, but I don't understand how you work. That is, assuming, you're the same person who I think of when I'm stuck in a traffic jam and I'll get fired if I don't make it to the office on time. Assuming you're the same person all of us think of when we're living on the edge, and wishing we could just jump off. And assuming that you're the same person who responds time and again.

Let me ask you something. They say you know everything. They say you're the one who decides our fate. Then I don't get what joy you find in making little dolls with flesh and blood, making them suffer and then killing them to recycle and send back as people who don't suffer and therefore commit sins. Haven't you had enough seeing this for 200 decades at least?

OK. Granted that one year of yours is like a zillion years of ours. Still, do you get a kick out of making people suffer? There are so many people with broken bones, broken heads, broken legs and broken hearts. So many people who talk of successful lives - personal and professional. And so many other people who see these people and rue their unsatisfied lot. Why, God, Why? Why this insufferable passion to see us suffer and crave for mercy? Why this somnambulist existence where we can't even see you and our minds are in handcuffs?

It's just not fair. Definitely not when the things we think are beautiful, marvelous, spectacular - are just glances of your time. Just miniature events that everyone forgets. You don't even get to take souvenirs or photos like in a tourist trip. Hell, we don't even know when or where we're going next. Why this uncertainty? Does that also have a purpose like the rest of the things you do?

But whatever - I'm here because put me down - and I'm gonna do things that make me happy. Because I like to be happy. Why? Since it makes everyone around me happy too - and you like to see people similar to you. In fact is that why you made us in the first place? Do you have other Gods at your level, all of who make universes like this? And do their universes have people too, to worship them? Are all you Gods in some competition to have the best universe around or something? If yes, is there a Super-God who gives you that prize? Just some food for thought.

Awaiting your reply,

Yours religiously
Kid-who-lives-on-the-land

Of Crouching Tigers and Hidden Dragons

Perhaps the most interesting thing about my 30-day experience on Mandarin lands is the language barrier. Having been an insufferable-crib-about-it-all co-intern, the Midget Rogue isn't really wearing all tinted glasses. Of course, notwithstanding the tinted glasses on my room - which incidentally guise the typhoon signal 3 outside, I realize the invariable reality - I cannot go out today, and hence I must blog.

Not before I give my clothes to the laundry, I decide. I force myself out of bed and pull out the laundry cover from the hotel cupboard. The pile of clothes that has been growing over the week, is quickly stuffed into the miserable excuse for a bag. I pull out the hotel key card (which of course is more importantly my sole source of a Chinese address) and walk out of the room.

The door knob has hardly turned when I realize the housekeeping staff is here.

"May uh?" She asks.

"What?" I ask back.

"May Uhhhh?" The nasal tone is irritating.

It's 5 minutes before she shows me a card that says Make Up Room.

"After lunch". I say. This is the only problem with weekends - you're there when they clean up the room. As I go down from the 16th floor, I wonder how I should really be staying at the 61st floor, given the fact that buildings seem to compete for height around here. Man, what is a Midget Rogue doing round here?

I look around for some sheltered footpath that would take me to Curry Kings. There it is. Long thin way next to the toy shop. Happily I cross the roads and scuttle along the walkway, till I begin to see the toys moving on their own. Oops...I must try to distinguish toys from meat. Amazing reptilian delicacies. And with no clue what's gonna happen to them. I stand by to see what'll happen.

Old Chinese Woman: [incomprehensible Mandarin]
Butcher : [incomprehensible Mandarin]

The butcher raises his knife. I move away to avoid the shock. It is at this point that I realize that this is so profound an experience that it deserves to be recorded in more spontaneous moments and photoblogs.

With a call to the reception, I yell.
"Can.....you......tell.....me....when ....the ........next......shuttle.......to............Tsim Sha Tsui .........is? And......whether.......it.......will........run........in........this weather?"
No, he doesn't understand. I go out and punch the elevator button.

Unmaad - the tenth emotion

So why on earth, is Unmaad the tenth emotion?

As most people in IIM interviews would say, the bravado at IIM is here to innovate, and innovate they will. Nonetheless, I don't believe that there is a tenth emotion. What there is, really is a certain mix of all these emotions, and the marketing-savvy PubCommers at Culcom are really branding this as a fresh one. Sample this, for instance.

Courage - what the guys at IIMB actually gather so that they can show a "Home Team" in all events despite the terrible schedule.

Pity - of the DOSA (Dept. of Spectators and Audience) at the poor wannabe culcommers who have graciously volunteered for a resume point.

Fear - of the vols and of lesser culcommers of incurring Jiddu's wrath

Anger - When one of the vols shows absolute ignorance to one of the guys carrying walkie-talkies - and the latter is left clueless

Sorrow - I really don't know what to put here, the only place you'd see sorrow in Unmaad is when drunken guys go all senti after the L^2

Happiness - when Unmaad finally ends and Culcommers can direct their slogging energies either towards placements or mid-terms.

Wonder - that Unmaad has actually happened, despite everything the DOSA guys said.

Disgust - of yours truly at having written the first of a series of "1 posts"

Serenity - when people like yours truly are done for the day and have nothing better to do than sleep

There you go. There's your tenth emotion.

Bass! Snare! Drum Roll! Crash! PHOOTAGE!

The crowds go up in cheers even as Choombuck ascends the stage and sets the guitar, as Laddoo and Venkat do their thing with the bass and lead guitars , and of course as Varun tests out the crisp Yamaha drum kit.

Oh yes, it's Phootage to the L^2 stage, and boy! is the crowd enthu? There's obviously a good lot of mike setting and volume twiddling that happens (it's what they call "setup time" in such contests). Their attire is largely misleading, especially for someone who's never seen them perform. Prasun with his uncombed hair, Sood in the shorts, and Venkat in what my grandmom would only describe as a fisherman's banian. Laddoo of course, in his glasses and sombre look, seems absolute maggu. (Yes guys, I know you're going to kick me next time I'm in the music room, and no guys, I'm not going to mind it. 'Cos you guys rock.)

The beginning is strange. Almost under par. Prasun walks up and says "Welcome to iimb. Now we'll start." And then it begins.

There you go. The medley of Choli ke peeche kyaa hai, Kali Kali and Naagin - mixed to western rock - which Phootage has kinda composed on its own and endearingly termed "Choli ke Peeche Kaali Naagin" rocks the crowd. Not just the home crowd, but the visitors as well. Everyone's going crazy dancing. A special mention must be made of our own Matthew who with his Joker hat and dance - was the treat of the evening for all fachchas.

That was followed by "Feel" and "Sex me up", both of which were done so professionally that it is only when they say "The next one is the only Cover we will be doing" that we realise it's their own composition and not just some rip off. The show ends with a lovely performance of Toxicity which sees the crescendo of Phootage in this college. Hats off to you guys - you've made Unmaad worth living for. Hope to see you guys perform at the 11th, 12th, 13th and all future emotional Unmaads [:D]

And yeah - as a budding fachcha in the Muzik Club - I must say this to go on record. These guys have been an inspiration to all of us Phootlets - if we could perform one tenth as tight as them, it'll be a day worth living.

And yeah - here's a link to the video these guys created....on youtube

http://youtube.com/watch?v=oAS54lU-8Ms

Next Unmaad post on the Easterns...coming up shortly.