December the Fourteenth, Two Thousand and Nine

It was 5 minutes past midnight in IMT when 400 odd souls crowded the entrance lobby of the academic block, an unusual scene given the extremely low occupancy rates of classes during day time in this trimester. But for 50 of them, including me, it was to become the most memorable night of their careers. The date was 14th Dec, 2009 (actually 15th since the date had changed midnight), the Day 0 Slot 1 of Placements 2009-10 at Institute of Management Technology, Ghaziabad.

The day had begun with high degree of uncertainty and nervousness for our batch (barring those who already got placed in envelope companies or got PPOs). 12 companies were expected to visit the campus which promised lots of action in GDs, shuttling between one process and another, the rhetoric announcements of GD lists, the much awaited interview calls and the lucky few to get the final offers towards the end. My strong CV made sure that I make an appearance for almost all the companies wherever I had applied. Let me give you a firsthand account of my day, except that I’d refrain naming the companies barring mine, for obvious reasons.

I woke up at 6:30 am and got ready, except for the bath, for a PPT scheduled at 7:30 am. As expected, the recruitment team of Puppy Poopy (PP) arrived only 110 mins late. Soon after, I was in a GD room discussing who should be the celebrity endorser for PP. I made only 1 entry with 2 words, while the group, loaded with the local celebrities of IMT, took every possible name from bollywood and cricket.

After waiting for half an hour in the auditorium, my name was re-announced for another GD. I don’t know what business interests Bawander Ltd has in Naxal hit areas, but they asked us to discuss the Naxal problem which we did quite comfortably. Soon PP and Bawander gave out the interview shortlists and I was through in both of them. “2 on 2”- I’d have liked to add it on my CV.

The next in line was Aavjo Insulting Ltd where we argued over a product launch. My lack of interest in marketing strategies was clearly discernable from my lame suggestions. Next up was Hip’s GD on ‘Rakhi ka Swayamwar vs Roadies: Which is a better business proposition?’ Again my apathy of reality TV shows let me go unspoken in the fish market. The last one was Polar Bear Ltd on the topic ‘Is ethics a business pretence?’ Before losing hope, I tried to introduce the topic twice but to not heeding from the group.

Soon I was rushed to MDP block for Infosys’ interview (where I was directly shortlisted based on my CV). To cut it short, I think it was one of the best interviews of my life and I spoke for 97% of the interview duration.

My last GD was for Baba Motors on ‘India’s stand at Copenhagen’. As expected, most of the discussion was incomprehensible since at least 3 people were talking at any given point of time. Later, they shortlisted only 6 for the interviews out of 60 who appeared for GDs. Obviously I stood no chance among the biggies.

So by now I was left with 2 more interviews to end the day. PP’s interview panel informed me that my 2 words in the GD made them classify me as an ‘unconventional thinker’. But probably they soon realized that my unconventional thinking does not go beyond those 2 words. Bawander’s interview was rather unconventional since they were standing (they were too tired to sit) and me sitting for the 4 mins long interview. I was last on their list, and probably they had already made the choice and I was just a liability to finish.

I had attended 6 GDs and 3 interviews in 7 hours. But for the next 7 hours, we had only one thing to do: wait for the results until all the processes are over and final lists are ready. Having given our best (and worst in some cases), anxiety was rampant in the air. At 11 pm, everybody assembled near the control desk at entrance lobby. We made futile efforts of easing out tension by making noise and singing motivational songs. The results of multiple offers had already leaked out, so I was sure I had not got more than one. After an hour, our placement coordinator arrived and began disclosing the results beginning with the PPOs. On each name announced, the crowd roared and applauded and hugged the lucky one. Mine was 54th of the 99 names announced that night.

King in the Pack

Since the success of Five Point Someone, a number of books about campus life (now termed as campus novels) have been written. Books like Above Average, Everything You Desire, Keep Off the Grass etc portray the curious and bizarre experiences in premier institutes of our country, mostly IITs and IIMs. Recently, I read one such book recently called Jocker in the Pack: An Irreverent View of Life at IIMs by two IIM alumni. Almost like a documentary, the book chronicles stories about ragging, placements, summers, events, friends and girls at IIMB. To my surprise, I found striking similarities between the life at IMT and IIMB as described in the book. Being a part of two tier-2 institutes, NITW and IMT, I always wonder that apart from placements, is there anything worthwhile which differentiates IITs and IIMs (which I call tier-1 institutes) and the other premier institutes (i.e. tier-2s).

Let us take tier-2 engineering colleges which include NITs and a handful of top state engineering colleges. Almost everyone who joins them has appeared for IIT-JEE and majority of them clear the JEE screening phase. But minor mistakes like one wrong differentiation, one incomplete force diagram, one forgotten chemical formula, or worse, one spelling mistake in the JEE Mains cost them admissions to the mighty IITs, and they land up into one of these tier-2s, definitely unjustifiable to the copious amount of talent they possess.

Similar is the case with MBA aspirants. Nobody dreams of joining NITIE, MDI, SIBM and IMT etc after preparing hard for what is termed as one of the toughest entrance exams in the world. But one calculation mistake in quants, one wasted minute in drinking water during exam, or worse, an option (b) wrongly marked as (c) shatters their dreams of entering into IIMs.

Thus most of the students of tier-2 institutes reach there not by choice but as a compromise, though still happy to end up in one of the best institutes if not the best ones. And there’s no denying the fact that they stand shoulder to shoulder, even a notch above, their tier-1 counterparts in the corporate world. In NITW, I and my friend used to crib a lot about pathetic state of affairs in our institute and the discussions would always end with “That is why NITs can never be IITs”. Surprisingly, even at IMT, almost like a déjà vu, we crib on similar issues and say “That is why IMT can never match IIMs”.

I just hope that our tier-1 counterparts, all pumped up with excessive pride, realize that their institute is not worth the exclusive glory it commands in an average Indian’s mind. After all, if they are the Aces, we are no less than the Kings in the pack who are at least a cut above the remaining twelve cards. And I wonder if someone from IMT will ever write a book about the ecstasies, doldrums and idiosyncrasies of life at IMT.

Isn’t Charity Selfish?

The Joy-of-Giving Week started on Sep 27 culminated yesterday with lot of support from NGOs, press, media, corporate, institutes and celebrities. It is being termed as the biggest national philanthropic drive ever. NGOs organized clothes collection drive for poor, 5 star hotels organized buffets for charity, colleges organized cultural fests and awareness campaigns etc. The total sum collected through these initiatives is not yet calculated but we just hope that all of it reaches the deserving people.

Let us get to the topic of this discussion: ‘Why charity?’ Charity, according to dictionary, is an act of liberality to or provision for those in need or distress; or in simple terms: alms-giving. Thus charity and philanthropy have always been considered as selfless deeds, concerned more about the receiver rather than the giver. But I believe that though the end benefit to the receiver is more recognizable and pertinent from societal point of view, the selfish motive holds dear to the giver more than anything else. Following few examples establish my hypothesis.

Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation, the largest philanthropic organization in the world, aims to enhance healthcare, reduce extreme poverty and expand educational opportunities and access to information technology. It has donated heavily for the cause of HIV research, vaccination and immunization programs, agricultural development in African countries, various disaster relief funds, hygiene and sanitation, scholarships in US universities etc. But BMGF has been criticized for its hidden motives to reap profits for Microsoft by investing (i.e. donating) only in those countries where it wants to expand its business. It is seen as a way to appease governments and citizens of these countries. Also, it has promoted the cause of education only in USA which is its biggest market, and not in under developed nations that actually lack in educational infrastructure.

Reliance and GE, on the other hand, are organizations that do not believe in much of outright charity. In a recent event, Jeff Immelt and Mukesh Ambani agreed in unison that providing rightful income opportunity to each and every individual is the most effective form of charity. It creates a win-win for the individual as well as the organization and increases the overall productivity of the society.

There are multiple examples of organizations worldwide that have done philanthropy and reaped indirect benefits. In fact, CSR is now taught in B-schools not merely as giving-back-to-society but as a strategic brand building activity. Thus it can be reasonably accepted that any profit organization has some tangible selfish motive while they take up CSR.

Charity by individuals, on the other hand, can have both emotional and tangible benefits. People do all sorts of charities to reap tangible benefits like publicity, recognition, fame, image building, media attention, alibi for unlawful activities etc. The emotional ones, however, are a bit more complex and rest mostly in our subconscious. Some may want to purge off their sins by helping the poor, while to others it gives self satisfaction, improves self confidence etc.

Recently, one of my friends asked me my motivation behind joining Teach India. Though the reasons are multiple and have even changed during the past two months, I found it worth giving a thought to this question. I like to consider myself as a selfish person and hence dispassionate about unproductive charities. My initial intention to join TI was simple: I was getting bored with my life and had too much of free time. One day during summer, I watched 3 movies consecutively but forgot the name of 2 of them the very next day. I said to myself, “What the hell! I got to do something more productive and worthwhile.” TI ads were appearing on TOI those days and so I enrolled.

But later, as the free time become sparse and I got busy with studies, I still enjoyed those 5-6 hours per week of teaching. And the new motive, as I figured out, was the feeling of ‘pride’ and ‘contentedness’ which came from the realization that I have the potential to distribute knowledge, which in actuality is not true. Though these terms sound presumptuous and condescending, they are not. We always prefer to choose things, maybe subconsciously, which give us pleasure and happiness one way or the other. And to me, this feeling of contentedness by teaching children gives me happiness and self-assurance.

This brings me to NGOs, which most people would contend, are truly selfless. They bring together a bunch of like minded people and give them a platform to perform philanthropic activities. But isn’t an NGO run by people who may have individual selfish motives behind their actions? Aren’t NGOs just means for these people to realize these motives?

After reading this discourse, a believer of selflessness would think of me as a paranoid with limited knowledge and viewpoint. But these are my personal views and I would graciously accept contrary views. In fact, after saying all this, I must accept that I have seen a few true philanthropists and have been unable to figure out any selfish motives behind their charitable actions.

In the end, whether its an act of selfishness or selflessness, the society should not be concerned with the motive. We must only ensure that the alms reach the neediest ones. After all, everyone deserves his rightful share of God’s grace and the philanthropist could only be a chosen delivery-man to deliver the gift.

My mom and her daughter-in-law

First thing first, since my elder cousin brother has got engaged a few months back, I have become the ‘torch bearer’, the ‘most eligible bachelor’ of my extended family. This has recently sprung up a lot of discussions about my to-be-wife, and surprisingly I have participated in them sportingly, asserting my own views and choices.

Now a few words about the leading lady of this post; no, it’s not my to-be-wife but her mother-in-law i.e. my mom. Indian moms of our generation, i.e. the ladies born in 1950s and 1960s have a few unique characteristics acquired by them being a part of both the worlds, the old India and the Westernized India. They are a perfect blend of traditional, culture driven, religious housewives and educated, widely travelled, open-minded liberated women. They are, in true sense, the ‘Super-Moms’. With host of benefits attached to such a persona, one is of particular interest to me as far as my mom is concerned: She is a great cook. Like all my friends, I also most definitely believe that my mom is the best cook. There’s hardly any delicacy which I have eaten elsewhere that my mom cannot prepare at home. Even if she doesn’t know the recipe, she would somehow find it out. Being a modern housewife, she has got the time and the interest to watch cookery shows and attend kitty parties to shell out a new dish every now and then.

Though my physical buildup doesn’t suggest it, I consider myself a connoisseur of food. And I am already skeptical about my to-be-wife’s culinary abilities. This brings me back to lady no. 2 of this discussion, i.e. my mom’s to-be-daughter-in-law. Recently, while enjoying one of my favorite homemade snacks, called ‘dhope ke vade’ (I’m sure nobody has even heard of it) at home, me and my mom had this interesting conversation-

Me: Maa, this thing is just superb. I think I am having this after a long long time.

Mom: Ya, these dhope leaves are hard to find in the market these days.

Me: Thanks Maa. It’s amazing how you make all these efforts to serve me my favorite dishes.

Mom: Hmm. But it’s highly unlikely that that your wife will know this recipe.

She has said this for many dishes hundreds of times, but this was the first time I realized the gravity of the issue. A simple thought of extinction of these dishes in my married life sent a chill down my spine. But after a short pause, the dialogue continued-

Mom: But don’t worry. Cooking skills will be my top priority when I go hunting a bride for you. At least in your case, it will be more important than her educational qualifications.

Me: (with a sigh of relief) Actually Maa, you can go about this way; whenever you go for bride hunting, carry a list of my favorite dishes and ask the protagonist how many of them she can cook.

Mom: (smiling with agreement) That can be a great idea.

Me: And the applicant below 90% score would be ruled out for further consideration (I chuckled).

Mom: (revealing a harsh truth) That’s a utopian thought beta; you are expecting too much off her. With the girls of this generation, you’d be lucky if she could even serve you simple four meals a day.

With those admonitions, I am already worried if some of my taste buds will turn into vestigial organs after marriage.

Incredible Lies

This story is one of the folklore that I’ve heard dozens of times from the oldies in my family. The lore is originally called ‘Safed Jhooth’ in Hindi and is a sequence of highly ‘disproportionate’ and implausible events. Though Safed Jhooth was setup in a bygone era, I’ve tried to modernize it. Read on.

Once upon a time, in the province of Dylanabad (yea, they were all Dylan fans), lived two of the most ferocious wrestlers of the world. Wrestler Of the East (aka Woe) lived on the western hill and Wrestler Of the West (aka Wow) lived on the eastern hill. The mismatch in their names and the position of their hills is another legend which is beyond the scope of this story.

One fine day, Woe was coming back from the city departmental store. He was pulling a hundred carts, attached to one another, all filled with groceries, vegetables and his wife’s cosmetics. Suddenly, while climbing up the hill, he found it immensely difficult to pull the carts further. So he stopped and went from cart to cart checking the wheels if something had stuck on it. On the hundredth cart, he found Wow sitting idle on the grocery listening to his Ipod. Watching this, Woe shouted, “Who are you and what the hell are you doing in my cart? You have interrupted my journey and if I’ll be late for home, my wife is going to kill me.” Hearing this, Wow replied, “Sorry for the inconvenience dear, but don’t you remember me? I am Wow, your greatest opponent. We have fought 99 wrestling matches before, all ending in ties. I have come today for the hundredth one and to win the coveted championship. Are you ready for it?” Seemingly recalling the last fight, Woe said, “Oh yes. Sorry friend, but the body building supplements available these days are have lot of side effects. They surely pump up the body, but enervate the mind. None the less, I am becoming listless doing the daily chores at home and want to get back to wrestling. Though I am feeling a little weary, I appreciate your gesture of coming all the way to see me. Let’s have that wrestling match right now.” “Ok”, said Wow. “But we have a small problem here. We’ll have to find someone to judge the winner.”

Fortunately, they saw an old women passing by, going down the hill. Woe identified her as the one who lives downtown and goes uphill daily for an evening walk. They asked her to be the judge to which she said, “I don’t mind judging your match but I have left my young son at home. You see, since they started airing Roadies on MTV, he has got this habit of running around girls in the evening and swearing at our neighbors. So I got to be home before dawn. We can do one thing though; if you guys don’t mind, I can carry you both on my palm and watch your match on my way. Is that ok?” They both agreed and climbed on her palm for the fight.

A few miles away from the hag’s house, his son, who was grazing camels in a field, saw her coming with the two wrestlers. He thought, “Oh darn! May be she has seen me applying for the Rakhi Sawant’s Swayamwar yesterday and is bringing these wrestlers to beat me up. I should better run away and save my life.” He hurriedly packed up all the camels in a luggage bag, put it on his head and started running away. While he was on his way, a vulture flying high in the sky saw him running with a bag. “There may be something in it for me”, the vulture thought. He quickly descended down, grabbed the bag and snatched it away. Another few miles into the sky, the vulture realized that the bag it zipped and he doesn’t know how to unzip. Perplexed, he thought of asking his friend for help and reached out for his mobile phone. But unfortunately, the bag fell from his claws into the palace of Dylanabad’s king.

In the palace, while the queen was having her dinner, this bag fell into her pudding and went in her mouth in a bite. Munching the pudding, she heard screams of camels inside her mouth. Terrified with the sound, she threw up on the floor. While cleaning the mess, her housemaid found this zipped bag and thought that since it has come out from Her Highness’s mouth, it may be something precious. So she plugged the bag in her ear and waited for her shift to be over.

In the evening, when she reached her home, she took out the bag and showed it to her husband excitedly. Disappointed with her act, he said, “Look dear, you don’t have to resort to stealing such stuffs. How many times have I told you not to steal petty things? You must learn to embezzle bigger things, jewelry, credit cards, electronic gadgets, etc. Even mobile phones are not worth the efforts these days. Anyhow, since you have already brought it, let us open it and have a look.” As she unzipped the bag, dozens of camels burst out into their house and started smashing everything around. One kicked the TV, another tumbled the fridge and another started paying with the AC remote control. In a few moments, the house looked like a riot hit place. Looking at the mess, the husband said, “Oh shit, we don’t even have riot protection clause in our home insurance. We are screwed. This is all because of your stupid bag. You women are good for nothing.” Hearing this, the maid started crying. The man went on scolding and she went on weeping. Within a few hours, her tears flooded the whole city and everybody drowned eventually.

Looking at the city from the sky, the vulture said to himself, “What a stupid story”.

Utterly Bakwaas Story

(Read it at your own risk)

Note: The story below is purely fictional and has no connection to anybody alive. The dead don’t bother anyways.

Yesterday, on my way from mess to hostel after breakfast, I noticed a small blob on the edge of the hostel’s wall. You know, the ones which you usually get when you forcibly scratch a pimple off your cheek. So here I was wondering the justification of me and the blob facing each other at the most unoccupied hour of my day. There must be some divine wit behind it, I thought. So I took it as the first task of the day to explore the existence of that blob on the wall and the two of us pitted against each other, not as enemies or friends, but as onlookers staring at each other, sharing the same destiny for a few moments.

It seemed to be full of some viscous fluid whose contents I wanted to determine. But it was very small in size, hemispherical, about half an inch in diameter and I was too big to go inside and explore it. I assumed that if there was some cosmic purpose to this event, the God must have bestowed upon me a few extra-terrestrial abilities. So I called upon the heavens to reduce my size to that of an ant. In a usual mythological Bollywood movie, such a prayer will be answered with lightning and thunderstorm and aakashvani from the heavens. But in my case, it didn’t turn out to be so glamorous. Instead, a brick fell from the top of the wall and landed on my head. The very next moment, I found myself ant-sized but under the brick crawling to find my way out. Somehow managing to do that, I stood on my tiny feet, which were still discernable from my hands unlike a real ant.

But now, I was facing the biggest challenge of the day. When I was tall, the blob was just a foot away from me and was within my reach. Now it seemed to be miles away, hardly visible from my tiny eyes. Also, it was a few stories high from the ground level for my new 10mm height. Since the normal ants do not have a public transport systems or elevators to climb up a building, I decided to get to the blob hitchhiking. So the task was to find a suitable mode which could get me there. A fly would be too small to carry my weight and a bird would not perch on a wall. Suddenly I saw a big grasshopper, suspiciously hopping on a cemented floor instead. It looked bulkier than the usual lot and had legs folded like an inverted V sticking to its stomach. The chap was greenish yellow in color with blood red patches (were those just spots or real blood was to be discovered later) on its wings.

Here was my big chance. If I could persuade him to at least fly me to the top of that blob, I could jump on it without my helicopter to land. Wow! I thought, what a golden opportunity to play Tom Cruise in real life. But again, as in case while doing business in different cultural contexts, communication was a problem here. Though humans self proclaim to have developed the most comprehensive languages for communication, there have been studies showing that other species too exchange messages through sounds and signs indiscernible to humans. Thus I decided to ask for yet another divine favor to grant me the power to communicate with that unfortunate grasshopper. This time again, a tiny hard disk, fraught with grasshopper vocabulary, flew from a nearby tree and landed inside my brain.

Puffed up with confidence, I went closer to Hoppy (I already gave him a name assuming it won’t have any) expecting to strike a conversation. But Hoppy turned out to be smarter than I thought. His (yes, it was a ‘he’ as told by him) name was #a!z@o (that’s how he pronounced it in his dialect, and I could too). And it was he who started the conversation by asking curiously, “Are you a human? And if yes, when did humans invent this miniaturization technology?”

I was stumped. “What do you know about technology? You are just a grass hopper whiling away your life hip-hopping.” I asked. Of course I didn’t know that this conversation will turn out to be an unforgettable and enlightening one.

“First thing first”, he said, “never mess with someone ten times your size. And secondly, I am not a grass hopper but a locust, now one of the critically endangered species on earth, thanks to you humans.”

I retaliated, “Sorry to address you rudely (by now I had realized that I cannot crush him under my feet anymore while he can do it), but I don’t see how humans are responsible for your extinction. After all, its survival of the fittest on this planet and we have proved ourselves worthy of it.”

“For Christ sake dude, don’t give me that ‘survival of the fittest’ crap. That’s the philosophy you humans have developed to fool yourselves and to justify your misdemeanors in the higher court of God. This earth is made for everyone to live and procreate and only nature has the right to destroy the unfit. Do you know that species extinctions have increased to an unprecedented rate since humans’ technological advancements started. And it is predicted by some of your fellow humans that half of the current 1.5 million living species will be extinct by the end of this century. What do you have to say to that?”

I realized that locusts have very high IQ and maybe humans have never discovered this. Whatever maybe the case, I was heading for a clear loss in the discussion. Moreover, I wasn’t here to waste my time on trivial discussions but to seek his help. So I asked him straight away, “#a!z@o, maybe you are right, but I don’t have time to discuss all this at the moment. Actually I want to get to that blob you see over there. Can you offer me a lift?”

I was afraid that he might refuse. But instead he offered an interesting proposition, “Ok, I will carry you there, but only if you answer my three questions. And mind you, the questions aren’t going to be easy.” Already disappointed, I asked him, “But you are much more knowledgeable than me. Can you reduce the number of answers required or make the questions easier?” “That is the problem with you humans”, he said, “you have lesser brain than the tiniest of creatures. Let us make it simpler; if you can answer any one of the three questions, I will take you there. Agree?”

I did.

“Ok then. My first question: You are standing on a roadside that leads to the railway station. A passerby asks you, “Where does this road takes me?” What should be your answer?”

I thought this insect was over smart, so I should try to match his wits. I replied, “I’ll tell him that the road doesn’t take anybody anywhere”.

“You are really a dumbo. Haven’t you learned in Business Communication that words have contextual meaning and if you don’t understand it in this case then it’s your fault not the other person’s. You should have told him that the road goes towards the railway station; and not the smartass answer that you gave me. We are 1-0 now.”

“Ok, ok. Move on.”

“Here’s my second question: Your father is 50 years old. What’s your age now if your dad will be twice as old as you after 10 years?”

I quickly calculated and answered, “20 years.”

“Again wrong. Aren’t you 24 years old? Why should you change your age just because I asked you a silly question? So now the score is 2-0 with just one more to go. I don’t think you’ll make it.”

“Let us see.”

“Ok, here’s my last question: What should be your answer to this question so that the score becomes 2-1 and I take you to the blob?”

While I was still thinking of the answer, suddenly the alarm rang up and broke the dream. I’ll try if I could continue with the same dream again sometime to reach that blob.

Trivia of my life

Midnight Lovers

This one is dedicated to all the lovers whom you'll find chatting or talking on phone even long after midnight. 

This is my first try at writing a poem. So please excuse my grammar, conjunction, preposition and 120 other mistakes which I have made to maintain the tukbandi. And I hope the lovers' pain tickles your funny bone. Critical comments are always welcome.

I'm not sleeping in the night,

And I'm dozing all the day.

 

Before I met you online,

My life was just fine;

I'd sleep for 12 cozy hours,

And laugh at other sleepless lovers.

 

But once browsing through the Facebook,

I stumbled upon your account;

And quickly scribbled you a message,

As if you were a treasure I've found.

 

The next 15 hours were dreadful,

I thought you passed the message by;

Refresh, refresh, refresh all day long,

Just waiting for the reply.

 

Suddenly a new mail burst into my gmail,

Though I didn't read the whole body;

The subject said, "You've got message in your Facebook inbox",

I knew that would be you, my dear lady.

 

Your amicable reply started something,

Which I had never dreamt of;

And it surely made me one of those,

Whom I always laughed off.

 

Chatting, SMSes and phone calls, all started,

And would never end before 3;

My dear you can very well imagine,

How would the next day's classes be.

 

But still the first few days were great,

And I felt like a rock star;

I even composed a song for you dear,

Though I haven't learnt to hold a guitar.

 

There on I'd think of you all night,

Even before the calls and after;

My roommate thought I've gone crazy,

And he took me to a doctor.

 

The doctor did blood, piss and many other tests,

And declared me an 'insomniac';

Though I bet you one thing,

It definitely sounds better than a 'maniac'.

 

And now even after you've left me,

It doesn't matter it’s a weekend or a weekday;

I'm not sleeping in the night,

And I'm dozing all the day.

Mediocrity at Its Best

Mike Litman once started addressing a 200 odd audience on the topic 'Say goodbye to mediocrity' by saying “You weren’t born to be in this room tonight.” What he really meant was "You, I, we…we weren’t born to be average. We weren’t born to strive for mediocrity in life. And we weren’t born to spend our lives at jobs we can’t stand."

That makes me realize that there are not two but three kinds of people in this world: the winners, the losers, and the mediocres. While the first two are easy to locate, the world is actually full of the third ones who largely go un-noticed. At least 90% of us belong to this category. And we always make desperate attempts to get out of this mould. But don't we question ourselves sometimes that am I truly a mediocre? Who is a real mediocre? And is it a curse to be one? I am just trying to explore these thoughts here.

Lets define mediocrity first. Oxford dictionary put it as 'Moderate fortune or condition in life' or 'A thing equally removed from two opposite extremes'. I see it as a relative term. A student or a piece of art may be mediocre among one set of peers but may be a genius or a masterpiece in the other. The choice is yours: to be called a genius in a group of dimwits or challenge yourself among intellects. 

Now, let us see how bad it is belonging to this category. I have got used to analyzing things from both the perspectives: optimistic and pessimistic. Lets see how it fits here.

Pessimists say a mediocre's life is dreadful. On the one hand, they have a perennial urge to climb up the ladder, which they are not able to given their mediocrity. On the other hand, mediocres always have a fear of falling into the dungeon of losers. Its like a game of snakes and ladders with too many snakes and too few ladders.

Once during my school days, when I was among the toppers in my class, one of my friend, a so-called average student, told me, "Atul, I study a lot to displace you from your rank". To this I replied, "Can you imagine how hard is it to retain the spot." And he really did achieve his goal in the very next exams. That brings me to the optimistic side of being a mediocre. I think mediocrity is easy to sustain and even improve. The losers don't care and thus hardly pose a challenge. And success is difficult to maintain once achieved which is why winners get nightmares of dropping down from the pinnacle. All a mediocre needs is to give that gentle push.

So is there a way out. Sure, I say. But the process should be strategic, carried out with patience and determination. Have a long term mission to be a winner, but make achievable goals towards moving up tier by tier within this mediocrity. And finally when your mediocrity is at its best, you can give that extra push to replace the winner.

A Perfect Itinerary

(Dedicated to Ani and Lincoln)

*Based on true events.

It was the 5^th day of November 2003 when The Matrix Revolutions released in India. Like all movie buffs, after watching the first two parts of the amazing Matrix trilogy, we were waiting for this big day. But to our dismay, we lived in a place called Warangal where English is the third language, after Telugu and Hindi. So leave alone English, the movie wasn’t even released in Hindi there. And I had promised myself, that I will watch the final part only in a theatre. So as ridiculous it may sound, I decided to go to Hyderabad (which is 150 kms away from Warangal) to watch it. Luckily, two of my dear friends, Animesh and Lincoln shared the same emotions for the movie and thus we grouped up to go and watch it first day in the IMAX screen at Prasad IMAX theatre. For those who don’t know it, Prasad IMAX was one of the very few IMAX theatres in the world and had the largest IMAX screen in Asia.

And thus the journey began. The plan was simple: we’d catch East Coast Express from Kazipet at 2:30 pm, reach Secunderabad by 5:45, quickly rush to the IMAX which is a couple of kms away from railway station and get the tickets for 7:30 pm show. Then we can easily catch a train by the night and get back by 2 am.

We started as expected. Right after our classes, we went to Kazipet, the nearest railway station. The train too was right on time and we managed to catch it easily. The journey was comfortable except that we had to keep standing all the time since there was no vacant seat. The train reached the destination timely and as soon as we got down we met our first trouble. While walking through the platform, a ticket inspector stopped us and took us to his office. I don’t know if he judged it by our speed of walking but he was right; we had no journey tickets. After acting stupid and making lame excuses for some time, we had to surrender. We paid Rs 100 per head under the table and bid farewell to the inspector.

Barely discouraged by the event, we quickly caught an auto-rickshaw and reached IMAX by 6:30. Ani rushed to the ticket window while I paid the autowala. There we met our second problem of the day. The lady in front of Ani bought the last ticket for the 10 pm show while the 7:30 show had already been sold out. We were not as stupid as you might be thinking right now; we had earlier tried to book the ticket on phone but they turned us down saying they don’t do it on credit, hence the risk. Now we were left with two options; either to buy tickets for next day morning show or look for another theatre. As we did not want to spend money for the night stay, we chose the latter.

With crushed dreams of watching The Matrix Revolutions on the big IMAX screen, we reached another theatre screening the movie. It was still around 7 pm. But again thanks to our destiny, the next show would start only at 10 o’ clock. That would mean that we’d reach college back only by 5:30 in the morning. Puffed up with our love for cinema (and to avoid embarrassment of returning without watching the movie) we went ahead and bought the tickets. While we were standing outside the theatre thinking how to while away the time, something pleasant happened. A car entered the premise and a scantily dressed beautiful young lady, with her face shining bright, stepped out of it. It’s amazing how our nervous system can quickly divert its attention. For the next few minutes, we forgot all the day’s events and just stared lustfully at her till she went away.

With enough time to get bored, we decided to go to Paradise restaurant and have the so called ‘best biryani of Hyderabad’. But the Murphy’s laws followed us there too. There was a long queue at the restaurant and we waited for an hour, standing, till we got a seat. Luckily the food was great and we ate like a bunch of slumdogs (lexicography courtesy Danny Boyle).  

It was the happiest moment of the day as we caught our seats inside the theatre and we kept ourselves fully engrossed for the next 130 minutes of the movie, except the small naps that Lincoln took while watching it. I and Ani were self proclaimed movie critics within our group of friends in college and the movie would definitely invite a lot of critical discussion of how disappointing it was. But as was the call of the moment, we pretended it was nice to keep each other’s morals high. With everything gone as wrong as possible, it was the time to get back to college and have a long sleep.

Though destiny rarely plays games with commoners like us, it plays well whenever it does. As we reached the railway station, we found out that no train was scheduled for Kazipet till the morning. With Lincoln already dozing off in the auto-rickshaw, we reached bus stand at around 1:30 am hoping to catch a bus. But there was no bus either till 3:30 am. We had no option but to sleep on the small benches, lying on each other, for two cold long hours.

We reached college by 7 in the morning, had breakfast in the mess and went straight to bed for a much deserved sleep. We never told anyone about the great excursion we had on that fateful day and would always recall it as a perfect itinerary. 

The PCMB of a Love Story

I first saw her when I entered college to earn an engineering degree. She, being my biological senior, was slightly older than me. The difference between our ages was half the numeric value of the square root of the circumference of a cricket ball in inches. But incidentally, pheromones in my body did not mind it. My vomeronasal organ easily recognized her, with ninety percent probability, as the one who will do additions and multiplications in my family tree. 

Her face was smooth, every five dozen square inches of it, with elliptical eyes and a thirty five degrees tapered nose soldered perfectly on it. Her smile would stretch her lips by an extra inch and mine by another half an inch every time I saw her. That face had the luminous intensity of a hundred watt halogen lamp, enough to power my laptop for three hours. She had long straight line like hairs, averaging two feet in length with four inches of standard deviation. Her holy curves were destined to bring the conic sections to my edgy life. She had a sonorous voice and I knew that once it starts resonating with mine, the amplitude of resulting sine waves could shatter any crystalline substance on earth.  Her body would smell of geraniol and citronellol, rarely found in homo-sapiens.

I communicated my love to her through a girl who sat diagonally behind her in the class and lived four rooms away from her in the hostel number seven. But I don’t know if the transmission signals met an electromagnetic interruption or the viscosity of my message was too less that it went right across her ears without leaving any deposits in her cardiac muscles or nervous system. While I always admired her to be of magnoliacae origin, she took me to be a cactaceae and started maintaining minimum eleven feet distance from me.

Though my love bike took three months to reach her, the news of its engine failure got broadcasted in the college at the speed of light. Suddenly my vibgyor dreams turned into monochrome with extra ten kilogram of embarrassment loaded on them having its centre of gravity right inside my heart. My love life which I expected to take an exponential curve suddenly turned into a null vector. The projectile thrown at a perfect forty five degrees inclination angle suddenly hit the wall and dropped dead with the force of gravity.

But as the learned men say, after every trough in a simple harmonic motion comes an upward wave. This new wave came to me with much higher amplitude and my heart started pounding again like an undamped spring mass system, this time for a biological junior. And as you might have already guessed, the polymer of my love life went on breaking and adding new aromatic bonds.

PSEUDO-RADICALISM

Oxford dictionary defines radicalism as "departure from tradition; progressive; unorthodox". It primary talks about people who have a point of view entirely different from the socially accepted norms. And it won't be an exaggeration to say that it’s a host of radial people throughout the history who have shaped the mankind where it stands today. Right from Galileo to Gandhi, these men have stood for what they believed to be right no matter what the people think of them or their ideas. But this article talks about a different approach to radicalism, which I call pseudo-radicalism.

I define pseudo-radicalism as opposing a generally accepted idea rather than supporting an extremist idea. The difference being that a radical person advocates something which he believes from within and which represents his unbiased way of reckoning. On the other hand, a pseudo-radical first gathers the socially accepted view and then go after it with a negative approach. That is, a pseudo-radical does not have an originality of ideals, opinions or faculty of reasoning. And, I am afraid, the number of such people is increasing day by day and you will find them all around you; maybe you are one of them. Let me discuss how and why they exhibit such a behavior.

Firstly, its a conscious effort to stand out of the crowd in this competitive world. They certainly do not care about either of the point of views but do have an urge to somehow proclaim themselves to be on the extremist side. They do it just for the heck of it and their victory is only in getting heard and nothing else. How many times you have heard a friend telling "Mahatma Gandhi ruined this country" or "Tendulkar is no good for Indian cricket" or "I don't like Forrest Gump. Its too bland". I don't say that everyone making such remarks is a pseudo-radical; in fact some of them strongly feel it from the core of their heart and can fight it out with debatable reasoning. But still there are many of them who say it just to be different. They are hardly aware of Gandhi's philosophy or Sachin's records and don't even care to know how wrong they are. Another easy example of this is the recent article by Mr. Arindam Chaudhury titled "Don't see Slumdog Millionaire. It sucks!” He sure got his share of visibility out of it (he got more than 5000 views and 300+ comments in his blog in merely four days after he published it in TOI).

Second reason, which probably a psycho-analyst can explain, is accreditable to sub-conscious. An uneventful childhood, a distressful family atmosphere or a long foregone episode in life could germinate into such a behavior. Psychologists can perhaps delve deeper to understand it better.

I am not aware of prevalence of this phenomenon a few centuries ago, but I am increasingly fumbling upon such conducts all around me. And I would mainly attribute it to the heightening complexity of societal structure where people are succumbing to this urge to be different.

You might call this article to be a nonsensical and you may even get angry; and that, my friend, is a clear indicator of you being one of the pseudo-radicals talked about here. But don't worry, a little more introspection can sort it out.

Some Rajnikanth Facts

Though these facts are going around on the internet for quite some time, I wanted to share these with everyone. I hope you willI love to read them again and again as I do.

Rajanikanth makes onions cry. 

Rajanikanth can delete the Recycle Bin. 

Ghosts are actually caused by Rajanikanth killing people faster than Death can process them. 

Rajanikanth can build a snowman..... out of rain. 

Rajanikanth can strangle you with a cordless phone.

Rajanikanth can drown a fish.

When Rajanikanth enters a room, he doesn't turn the lights on,......... .... he turns the dark off. 

When Rajanikanth looks in a mirror the mirror shatters, because not even glass is stupid enough to get in between Rajanikanth and Rajanikanth. 

Brett Favre can throw a football over 50 yards.

Rajanikanth can throw Brett Favre even further. 

The last digit of pi is Rajanikanth. He is the end of all things. 

Rajanikanth does not know where you live, but he knows where you will die. 

Bullets dodge Rajanikanth.

A Handicap parking sign does not signify that this spot is for handicapped people. It is actually in fact a warning, that the spot belongs to Rajanikanth and that you will be handicapped if you park there. 

Rajanikanth' calendar goes straight from March 31st to April 2nd, no one fools Rajanikanth. 

If you spell Rajanikanth wrong on Google it doesn't say, "Did you mean Rajanikanth? " It simply replies, "Run while you still have the chance." 

Rajanikanth can do a wheelie on a unicycle.

Once a cobra bit Rajanikanth' leg. After five days of excruciating pain, the cobra died. 

When Rajanikanth gives you the finger, he's telling you how many seconds you have left to live. 

Rajanikanth can kill two stones with one bird.

Rajanikanth was once on Celebrity Wheel of Fortune and was the first to spin. The next 29 minutes of the show consisted of everyone standing around awkwardly, waiting for the wheel to stop. 

Leading hand sanitizers claim they can kill 99.9 percent of germs. Rajanikanth can kill 100 percent of whatever he wants. 

There is no such thing as global warming. Rajanikanth was cold, so he turned the sun up. 

Rajanikanth can set ants on fire with a magnifying glass. At night.

Rajanikanth has a deep and abiding respect for human life… unless it gets in his way. 

It takes Rajanikanth 20 minutes to watch 60 Minutes. 

Rajanikanth once shot down a German fighter plane with his finger, by yelling, "Bang!" 

In an average living room there are 1,242 objects Rajanikanth could use to kill you, including the room itself. 

Behind every successful man, there is a woman. Behind every dead man, there is Rajanikanth.

Rajanikanth destroyed the periodic table, because Rajanikanth only recognizes the element of surprise.

Rajanikanth got his drivers license at the age of 16 Seconds. 

With the rising cost of gasoline, Rajanikanth is beginning to worry about his drinking habit. 

The square root of Rajanikanth is pain. Do not try to square Rajanikanth, the result is death. 

When you say "no one's perfect", Rajanikanth takes this as a personal insult. 

A meeting with Him (a short story)

I was standing on this riverside for some fifteen minutes to meet an old friend. Though I was facing the river, turned my back to the road by which He will come, I knew I could sense His arrival. I haven't met Him for a long time though I talk to Him once in a while since I left my home for studies. Even today, I came Here to see Him after my mother insisted. He was Here for over a week to see His children and is going back right after seeing me.

He is and old friend, quite literally, since He has been like a father figure to my parents for a long long time. He and His family has lived next door to ours as long as I can remember. And They have been there with us through good and bad times. As my mother tells me, They were with us when my grandma died even before I was born. His wife was a great support to my lonely Mom. My mother would confide her worries and issues with Her. My mother always tells me stories how she went and cried on Her shoulders when my parents had trivial quarrels at home. SHe would always advice my Mom how to have faith in her family and be a supportive wife. In a way, She became the second mother-in-law to my Mom. Actually They were the same welcoming couple to everyone else in the neighbourhood, but I always felt that They had a special corner for my family.

They were the most regular visitors to hospital when I was born. He even jumped and danced on my birth celebrations, as my Mom tells me. I would mostly play with Him and get piggy-back rides when my father went off to work and my Mom got busy in her daily chores. Since all of my real Grand-parents died before I was born, They became my Dada and Dadi since birth. They would often buy expensive gifts and toys, for me and my little brother, which my parents could not generally afford. He had retired from His job by then and His children had moved out for jobs to other cities. As we grew up He often took lessons of moral science telling stories of great men on earth and also His own past. He would often talk about the good old days when people preferred joint families and lived in large numbers in country-side homes; though we still felt like a joint family with Them living next door.

But as the time passed by, I got busy in my studies. School and tutions took most of my time and I could rarely talk to Him for such long hours as during the childhood. Only the occasional Namasteys continued. Also, We would mostly celebrate the festivals with Them and that were the most wonderful times of those stressful study days. Eentually those moments also became rare when me and my brother moved out of town for higHer studies. My mother was a bit reluctant to send me out but it was They who convinced her and blessed me a bright future. As my visits to home got rarer, my Mom and Dad got closer to Them. They would call me many a times asking my whereabouts. SHe would often tell me how lonely my Mom was feeling and adviced me several times to call her instantly. Though my concerns about my mother's health and loneliness grew day by day, their presence always served as a consolation. Even toady when I go back on vacations we'd always visit Them and my mother would tell me how extra supportive this old couple has become to her.

I moved to this city only a few months back for my new job. Incidentally, both His sons also lived in the same city for quite some time. They would often visit him, especially on festivals, for a family gathering. Though They invited me to his house, I had not paid a visit being busy with my own stuff. Today, They were going back and I promised to meet Him on this riverside on their way back. 

Now, I can hear a big vehicle approaching. It must be Him with His friends on their way to drop Him. He has got quite a big fan-following here as well because of His philanthropic gestures. As they get closer, I can hear people shouting slogans bidding Him farewell. I also join the group and pay my wishes to Him saying "Ganpati Bappa Moriya".