ज़िंदा रहने की रस्म अभी जारी है

सुबह आँखें खुलते ही ख्वाब भूल जाने की,

राह चलते किसी अंजान को देख के मुस्कुराने की,
गाने आए या ना आये, रेडियो के साथ गुनगुनाने की,
और किसी भी बच्चे को रोता देख उसे चुप कराने की रस्म अभी जारी है,
ज़िंदा रहने की रस्म अभी जारी है...

 

किसी नकचढ़े अफसर के लिए काम करने की,

चंद कागज़ के टुकड़ों के लिए नींद हराम करने की,
'आज घर जल्दी आऊँगा' ये कह कर भी देर से आने की,
और दिनभर अपने बच्चों की बदमाशियाँ ना देख पाने की रस्म अभी जारी है,
ज़िंदा रहने की रस्म अभी जारी है...
 

शहर में एक आलीशान बंगला बनाने की,

माता-पिता को विदेश यात्रा पर भिजवाने की,
बहन को दहेज में बड़ी गाड़ी देने की,
और बीवी को अगले जन्मदिन पर हीरों का हार देने की कसम अभी जारी है,
ज़िंदा रहने की रस्म अभी जारी है....

इस साल करूँगा ऐसा कुछ...

माँ-बाप करेंगे मुझ पर गर्व, इस साल करूँगा ऐसा कुछ.

परीक्षाओं के समय दिल लगा के मेहनत करूँगा,
गलत ना समझो, पुस्तक नहीं सूरत-पुस्तक (facebook) का अध्ययन करूँगा;
किसी ना किसी अमीर कन्या को मेरी स्तिथि (status) ज़रूर भा जाएगी,
परीक्षाएं गयी भाड़ में, अमीर ससुर मिल गया तो ज़िन्दगी सुधर जाएगी.

और मैं तो एक नहीं दो-दो लड़कियां पटाऊंगा,

एक को पापा और एक को माँ से मिलवाऊंगा.
पापा कहेंगे वाह बेटा क्या माल पटाई है,
माँ कहेगी वाह, इस लड़की ने तो मस्त चाय बनायी है.

पर अपनी किस्मत पर मुझे नहीं है अधिक भरोसा,
इसी लिए शायद सब कहते रहते हैं "तेरा तो कुछ नहीं होगा".
अमीर लड़की ना पटी तो सरकारी नौकरी का चक्कर चलाऊंगा,
माँ के मामा के दोस्त के भतीजे के जरिये बड़े अफसर को घूस खिलाऊंगा.

गलत ना समझना, मुझे नौकरी-चाकरी से नहीं है अधिक सरोकार,
लेकिन पैसे ना कमाए तो माँ-बाप बोरिया बिस्तर सहित कर देंगे फरार.
पर कब तक साहब (boss) के सामने काम का ढोंग करूँगा,
वो मुझे निकाल दे इससे पहले मैं खुद ही त्याग-पत्र दे दूंगा.

पर कोई फ़िक्र नहीं, इस देश में बेरोज़गार को भी कुछ ना कुछ काम मिल ही जाता है,

सीधी ऊँगली से बात ना बने तो ऊँगली टेढ़ी करना हम सभी को आता है.
नौकरी से निकाल दिया तो boss के ऊपर ही भ्रष्टाचार का आरोप जड़ दूंगा,
अन्ना की team के साथ मिल कर, उसी दफ्तर के सामने धरना-प्रदर्शन करूँगा.

मुझे फिर गलत ना समझना, मेरा ईमानदार बनने का कोई इरादा नहीं है,
India में ज्यादा ईमानदार बनने का वैसे भी कोई फायदा नहीं है.
मैं तो बस इमानदारी का ढोंग कर अपने boss को blackmail करूँगा,
और सब plan के मुताबिक चला, तो पुरानी girlfriend के अमीर बाप को भी भ्रस्ताचार के लपेटे में ले लूँगा.

बस फिर क्या, ससुर के पैसों से घर पे ऐश करूँगा,
कभी-कभी office जाकर secretary के साथ romance करूँगा.
माँ कहेगी बेटा तूने बहुत होशियारी से पैसा बनाया है,
और पापा कहेंगे, धोकेबाज़ी से ही सही पर तूने खूब नाम कमाया है.

माँ-बाप करेंगे मुझ पर गर्व, इस साल करूँगा ऐसा कुछ.

मम्मी आज आया बहुत मजा

Today was 'Bring-your-kids-to-work' day at Infosys, Pune. Watching the kids scream and jump in the otherwise gloomy office, I penned down this small poem in office today.
Enjoy :)


मम्मी आज आया बहुत मजा,
मैं आज पापा के office गया.
Bus में मिले महेश uncle और हैरी,
और मेरे बगल में बैठी एक दीदी बहुत प्यारी.

Gate पे थे Police वाले uncle खडे,
बडी सी मूछ और थे लम्बे चौडे.
उन्होने मुझे एक badge दिया,
उस पे मेरा नाम लिखा और गले में लटका दिया.

सबसे पहले हम गए food court,
इतना बडा मम्मी जैसे हो airport.
पापा ने खाया गरम समोसा ,
और मुझे दिलाया मैसूर मसाला डोसा.

सब हँस के कर रहे थे shake-hand,
लग रह था आया हूँ Disneyland.
फिर मम्मी हमने खेले बहुत से games,
और winners को मिली बडी सी chocolates.

मम्मी Infy का campus है बहुत बडा,
कहाँ घूम रहे हैं पता ही नहीं चलता.
और पापा की building तो सबसे अनोखी है,
दूर से तो मुझे लगा कोई spaceship है :)

फिर पापा मुझे ले गए अपने cubicle में,
मैने कहा बाप रे, इतने सारे लोग एक ही building में.
मम्मी पापा के सब दोस्त थे बहुत अच्छे,
पर ऐसे देख रहे थे जैसे पहली बार देखें हों बच्चे.

Lunch के लिए फिर सब साथ गए food court,
और हमने खाया ढेर सारा pizza from Dominos.
मम्मी मैं वहाँ दूसरे बच्चों से भी मिला,
और दिपाली का तो मैने mobile number भी ले लिया :)

बाद में पापा ने पूरा campus दिखाया,
हाथ पकड़ के सारा Infy घुमाया.
हमने देखा fountain और cricket stadium,
फिर घूम-फिर के वापस पापा की building में चले गए हम.

दोपहर में हम एक meeting में गए,
Conference room में सब आ के बैठ गए,
बडे से phone पे सब बात कर रहे थे,
काम कम मस्ती ज्यादा कर रहे थे.

मम्मी शाम को मिले पापा के boss,
उनका room था अलग, बडा ही खास.
मम्मी boss uncle हैं बहुत बात करते,
पर पापा पता नहीं क्युं हैं उनसे इतना डरते :)

6 बजे जब घर जाने का time हुआ,
मेरा तो वहाँ से आने का मन ही नहीं हुआ.
मम्मी मैं अगले साल फिर पापा के office जाऊँगा,
और अगली बार अपको भी अपने साथ ले जाऊँगा.

मम्मी आज आया बहुत मजा,
मैं आज पापा के office गया :)

I wish I could...

Splash some sea on the hedonist sun,

Grill some happiness with a toasted bun,

Humble an eagle for a friendly ride,

Watch the universe from the other side.

Pushing the wall...

Munch and drool and spit out the pain,

Drench my soul dry in a far-fetched rain,

Kick the wind to a resounding applause,

Play a Beethoven with an eternal pause.

Burning the ashes...

Ran like hell in the streets of wisdom,

Stumbled upon a few solitary kingdoms,

Steered my life with a fantastic crew,

Loved, and loved by, a precious few.

I pushed the wall and burnt the ashes.

Dubloo Mess: 2 Life Changing Experiences

It was in 2002, if you follow the Christian calender, when I landed at 18 degrees latitude and 79.58 degrees longitude on the face of the earth. You guessed it right, I was in Warangal, abbreviated as W (read Dubloo), at the uber-popular (ok ok, quite popular) National Institute of Technology Warangal, lovingly abbreviated as NITdubloo.

It was my first outing away from family, and boy - what a place for outing!! It was the Gulti-est place in the world (if you know what Gulti means, that is). And apart from introductions, missing girls, ragging, bragging and 132 other such things, there was one thing which bothered us the most during those initial days - Mess. This word - 'mess' - came into popular usage from 'a messdeck aboard ships' where military personnel used to socialize and eat, possibly leaving a literal mess for janitors to clean-up. And hence the ritual of keeping the place filthy and obnoxious continues all across the globe, probably on other planets too.

There are a few things special about any mess – 1: The odor inside is always consistent no matter the time or cuisine. and 2: The faces of boarders and servers (not the computer server) never change in 100 years. 2-Corollary: The way people eat in a mess also doesn't change in 1000 years.

Usually, discussions about any college mess can be consummated into a book, and NITdubloo mess was no different. However, there are two personal life changing experiences from our mess that I’d like to talk about – The Sunday Palak Paneer and The Sqaure Cut (which is incidentally a proof for 2-Corollary above).

The Sunday Palak Paneer: There is something about Indian paneer that people never seem to get bored of. And if you are in NITdubloo, you seem to eat its new breed every Sunday. Every Sunday afternoon, we were served with a bowl full of what they’d like to call as palak gravy. But wait, there was no paneer in it. You see, paneer is such a precious commodity that only the worthy are served with. It’s like the Nobel Prize which you earn and value as a prized possession, all 2 pieces of it. Yes, after proper deliberation, police verification and background check all done by the mess supervisor, we were served with 2 pieces of paneer, cuboids in shape with dimensions 10mm x 10 mm x 30 mm. 30 mm comes last because you treasure it so much that you are never able to finish it. And if you reach late, you don’t get any, just like Nobel Prize, which is never awarded posthumously. Though nobody liked it, fights often ensued to grab each other’s share. Spongy like the Flubber and cooked in filthy grey-colored grease, those paneer pieces made us realize the worth of good food and millions of students like us who live without it. It left me with so much penitence and grief that I pledged not to eat paneer ever again.

I continued my pledge for four years, thanks to the equally bad paneer at IMT, though of a different genre. I have started eating paneer again recently after I joined Infy.

The Sqaure Cut: Witnessing 2-Corollary in NITdubloo was the second life changing experience for me. The Square Cut, as we code-worded it, was a peculiar style of eating rice, patented by none other than the Gultis (also known as Madrasis in north India). The Gultis rarely eat Roti, never if it is served in mess like ours where Rotis (known as Phulka in our mess) were made once a month and stocked till they last. Gultis love rice, in all flavors and colors – yellow, white, green, purple, black, brownish-red, magenta et al. And they eat it as if no one is watching. Put lot of rice in the middle of plate, pour 1 jug of sambar, 1 jug of rassam, 2 bowls of curd, fold your sleeves till shoulders and attack. Even with so much of viscose stuff flowing around, a true Gulti manages to make it into a ball, rolling and tossing it around, and then gobbling it. He continues the process with learned concentration. Then the moment comes when there is no rice around and plate is left with unsolicited yellowish semi viscose fluid. With long practiced perfection, the Gulti spreads his hand straight as an arrow, elbow at 90 degrees to the shoulder with palm facing west and places it on the plate. With one master stroke of right speed and momentum, the Gulti caresses his hand capturing the fluid in hand and dropping it in mouth with lightening speed. He doesn’t even spare the unapologetic drops of fluid dripping down the arm and lick it right up through the palm. The whole process takes a nano-second and would put Dravid’s square-cut to shame. This age old method of finishing rice is many times rumored as the inspiration of Sqaure Cut in cricket - and hence the name.

Grieving with my inability to perfect this technique, I pledged not to eat rice with hands ever again. Thankfully, God made spoons and saved me the embarrassment. I eat rice only with spoons ever since.

Story of ‘Spoon’

Another nonsense story. Leave your IQ aside and read on…

One fine day, Kumma woke up to an unfamiliar voice. As he stepped out to check, he saw a transparent angelic creature, strangely draped in too many clothes, running away. It left no footmarks but dropped something with dangling sound. It was metallic, with a small oval end and a long stick attached to it.

Kumma was a prehistoric man living in Kuku tribe in Africa. Kukus were sure of one thing: everything in the world is either created by their ancestors or God. And God had ways of gifting them new things, He always sends such angels to deliver them. So just like earlier gifts, this too must be special.

It was still pitch dark outside, so Kumma went back to sleep. And as expected, God appeared in his dreams to tell something important: This new article is titled ‘Spoon’, has five uses, and it was Kumma’s assignment to figure all of them out.

Kumma woke up with a puzzled mind and a heart laden with responsibility. “Five uses! This must be God’s greatest creation”, Kumma felt special. He went straight to the Head Of the Tribe (HOT) who, though a little scared of the Spoon, performed the mandatory rituals. Now Kumma must get down to the task immediately. And until he’s done, nobody else should touch the Spoon.

The first use came instantly. As he was looking it from all sides, flipping up and down, front and back, he suddenly saw a reflecting figure. He held it upright, looked closely on the concave side of the oval. He could figure out that he’s watching himself, though inverted. “Voila! That’s one down. Now we don’t need a pitcher or go to the pond to look at ourselves”, he was excited. He turned it upside down expecting to see his face correctly, but alas! It wasn’t so. The Spoon had magical powers.

He hung the Spoon from the roof so that he has his eyes on it at all times. Passing it by one day, Kumma carelessly glanced at the oval from the convex side. “Dear God, what a fool I’ve been. The second use was just a flip away but I was so ignorant. Now I know that the Spoon can be used to see myself straight and inverted”, Kumma told himself. “I must carry it always if I have to find the other three uses”, he agreed.

One day he took it to lunch expecting some new discovery. Kukus used the darker side of their fingers to lift food and put into mouth. “Can’t the Spoon work as my fingers?” he quizzed himself. And with just a little difficulty, he was able to load the food on the convex side and push it into mouth using the handle. “Great, that must be the third use. Just two more to go.”

A few more days went by with no more discoveries. Kumma was getting restless. He went to the HOT asking for guidance who condescendingly called on the spirits for intervention. After the rituals, he asked Kumma to keep his doors open in the night and the angels will come to his remedy. The same night Kumma was awaken by a startling noise. He opened his eyes to find a wild cat standing on his belly. He quickly moved his hand searching for a weapon and shoved the first thing he got his hand on into the cat’s neck. The cat died, bleeding on the floor, with the Spoon piercing her neck. “The fourth use: a killer weapon. This was a tough one”, Kumma felt relieved.

Days-weeks-years-centuries went by but nobody could find the fifth use of the Spoon until someone found out that it can be used to drink from the concave side. Though we only know the fifth, the legend of four uses discovered by Kumma lives on.

"क्या लगती हो "

(एकदम original है, और फ़ोकट में पढने मिल रही है.... इसलिए पसंद आये या ना आये, दाद ज़रूर दीजियेगा :) )

पलकें उठें तो दिन, जुल्फें गिरे तो बारिश,

News channel पे मौसम की जानकारी का program लगती हो |

Party पे बाहर जाने के लिए जब बन-संवर के आती हो,

तो December के महीने में Gateway of India की शाम लगती हो |

Office से थक के घर आने पर जब प्यार से "ए जी" कहके बुलाती हो,

शाहरुख़ की film की mantinee show ticket का इंतज़ाम लगती हो |

गुस्से में तंतानाये हुए बड़ी-बड़ी आँखें दिखाती हो,

तो IIT-JEE में Mathematics का exam लगती हो |

मेरी आदतों से तंग आकर जब छोड़ जाने की धमकी देती हो,

तो निर्दोष मुजरिम पर लगाया हुआ झूठा इल्ज़ाम लगती हो |

आधी रात को जब अँधेरे में romantic गाने सुनाती हो,

तो विविध भारती पर चित्रमाला का program लगती हो |

और जब सामने बैठे घंटों मीठी-मीठी बातें करती हो,

तब क्या कहें, बस दिवाली पर दस-हज़ार लड़ी वाला bomb लगती हो ||

Friends Forever

I would start with a few candid confessions about the IMT farewell on 3^rd March 2010. On the lustrous night, I was feeling sad on multiple accounts. Firstly, I was sorry to myself for not having a girlfriend to dance with. Secondly, the grief was accentuated by watching a bunch of single girls dancing within themselves without eve noticing us hopefuls. Thirdly, I felt sad for my inconsequential abstinence from hard drinks which could have otherwise helped in subsiding the pain. However, friends come handy particularly in such moments of pain and you realize that the sadistic pleasure that you derive out of watching the equally hapless faces is otherwise impossible. And you appreciate that boy-friends are equally good dance partners and can amuse you in multiple other ways (though not exactly the way a girlfriend can). So we danced, and danced like crazy, since nobody was watching our footloose. And I must confess, that all the feelings of sadness and remorse of distantness from the fairer sex fainted as the night progressed.

Though, a new set of even more excruciating thoughts began to sting the bodily organs; the truth that this party would be the last of its kind, not only for this year or for the MBA but for our whole goddamn life remaining on this planet. We will have many more separate fun filled parties in life, no doubt, maybe with even more grandeur and fanfare. But the joy and comfort, of being surrounded by a crowd feeling the same clumsy vicious pang in their hearts, would be missing. The sense of belongingness, almost palpable, as if you can easily wade through your home with closed eyes, would be missing.

The scene in 3 Idiots where Farhan Qureshi’s father says “Mera beta engineer banega” the moment he is born shows a toned down version of the celestial expectation most of the parents have from their kids. They decide the destination all right, but leave us upon a merciless path to achieve glory. And they push us in a world of annoying competition where men kill men for survival and sometimes even for pleasure. But as we sail through, we drop anchors and cast webs like a Spiderman. And we entangle a few beautiful creatures in these webs creating bonds much stronger than nuclear bonds. This creature, which we call friend, does strange things. He mocks you in front of girls, kicks you hardest on your birthdays, tries to kill you with worst PJs, takes your embarrassing pictures and upload them on the net, encourages you to get an ugly haircut, never wants you to study hard, takes money from you and donates to charity, make you do all the assignments for him and links you up with the ugliest girl in the class.

But this same creature does even more strange things sometimes. He likes your bogus status messages on facebook, sends you lewd messages when you’re feeling bored, invites you to surprise birthday treats, writes exaggeratedly wonderful testimonial for your orkut account, introduces you to his girlfriend’s friends, faces questions thrown at you during class presentations, answers your quiz questions when his own time is running out, brings you medicine even when you don’t tell him you’re really sick and stands by you when you’re worried about placements. He is like a firefighter who enters your burning house when everyone else is running out.

These webs that we cast upon transcend the three spatial dimensions, almost telepathic. It has an enemy though, the fourth dimension i.e. time. Time weakens the bonds, and a decade ago only the strongest could stand the test of time. But cheers to communication technologies, the tests have become simpler and easy to pass. All we need are a couple of active accounts on social networking websites, a permanent mobile number and the best intentions to keep these bonds intact.

To some sophisticated individuals, the aforesaid thoughts would seem too bland for its dragging content. But a Michael Collins can never tell how Neil and Buzz would have felt stepping on the moon. And as long as these thoughts resonate even with a few fellow beings and bring smiles on their faces, I am happy to call them friends forever.

Downside Up

Today morning, as I stepped out of my room, I saw a guy walking upside down, hanging from the ceiling. Rubbing my eyes in disbelief I was unsure if it’s a dream or for real. I turned back and picked up the newspaper lying on the floor. There was a similar picture of people walking upside down along with an article titled ‘Gravity loses ground’. I quickly ran through it to find that some German scientists have proved earth’s gravity to be a farce. They proclaim that every object has a tendency to rest on a surface, and for most part it just chooses a surface below it rather than above it. The scientist said, “It comes as a-matter-of-fact if you look closely without preconceived theories. Why do the branches of a tree grow upward rather than bending down? Why do lizards choose to hang upside down from our ceilings while birds perch up-straight on trees? That’s because plants and animals haven’t heard about earth’s gravity while we unfortunate humans have, thanks to Galileo and Newton. Humans believe in it so superstitiously that even if we tried to walk on the ceiling, we have to fall down to confirm to this blindly held farce.” The article further talked about a debate over global acceptance of this new theory and its effect on habitats of birds, monkeys and lizards.

Before testing it myself, I decided to move around just to make sure. In the washroom, a guy was using the wash basin with the tap turned up and water reaching up to his face two feet above. I was not sure that if I pissed, will it go into the sink or the sink will throw it back on me; so I simply avoided the morning chores for the time being. My neighbor had already shifted his bed to the ceiling and was hanging with his hands resting from the ceiling. I couldn’t say if he was standing downside up or was practicing Yoga upside down. Whatever it was, it all seemed so creepy.

Without crinkling my brain further, I went to attend classes as scheduled. But the scene inside the classroom was too much alleviating. Till yesterday, students had the choice of sitting in the front or the back. But now they had four options, front or back on floor or ceiling. To avoid challenging my already constipated bowels, I chose to sit upright as usual. And I also decided to put my chair on side wall from tomorrow onwards just to be unconventional while have fun with this new opportunity.

During the lecture, the marketing professor drifted away from the topic and talked about the possible implications of this new anti-gravitational theory on marketing. According to him, it will be a boom for retail industry since they will now have both floor and ceiling area to doubles their shelf space. But it will be a bane for realty and construction since people will opt for smaller houses with adaptation of natural bunker beds facing each other. However, all this will be short lived since land and property prices will also double in due time.

Other than these, I saw one clear and immediate advantage for us. Now we can put tables on the ceiling in our mess to avoid overcrowding. Also, the future generations will be rescued from studying Newton’s laws of gravitation. It also removed one of the greatest fears of humans – “Will the lizard on the ceiling fall on my head due to gravity?” – now we know it won’t unless it specifically chooses to. Hitting a six in cricket will be a lot easier while hitting down the ball will be difficult in volleyball. Also, gymnastics will not be so awe-inspiring any more. Spiderman will no longer be a hero and terrorists will threaten to destroy the moon with a hijacked plane.

As a student of marketing, I thought of making the best of this opportunity and come up with an innovative product to cater to the anti-gravitational aspirations of hitherto grounded humans. But marketing is not about creating new stuffs, which must be left to scientists and researchers. We marketers only create the perception of a great desire, for an absolutely crap and useless product, in the minds of the consumers. So I pondered upon ideas to resell an existing product with a new name. “How about a Wall-resting TV to replace a Wall-mounted TV?” I asked myself. “Sounds great. But why is my alarm clock ringing on the middle of the day. Darn, it must be morning and I must be dreaming all along.”

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.