The Festival

Unmaad's over. What remains is a feeling of weird emptiness. It was fun while it lasted, I suppose. I was on the informals stage most of the time, making an absolute ass of myself. Not that I don't do that when I'm not on stage, but still. Lots of fun. Did a lot of things I wouldn't normally do, I suppose. Wore bandannas and all. Looked like a total jackass. Scarred my charming face for it too.
Strings and Indian Ocean kicked ass on the first day, and Parikrama blew people away on the final day, or so I hear. Couldn't make the Parikrama show. And surprise, surprise. There were two L-squares; amazing fun. Yeah, like L-square is where you'll find me on Saturday nights! It is just so much fun watching people get drunk. Anyway, that's a topic for another post. Back to unmaad.
Nothing like Saarang though. The crowds at the end of January in that campus in Adyar have to be seen to be believed. And experienced. Unmaad was just trying too hard. But you still put your heart into the festival, you work with your pals to make it a success, and when it does succeed, you're on top of the world. Saarang's too huge to feel that. You're more a cog in a machine there. Here, you are the whole machine. Amazing, it is.The painful part of course was Strategy class the next day. Who has the time or the patience to read a 40 page case on the Indian Watch Industry after a festival like that? Had to be done though.
Unmaad has helped though. My life was spiralling out of control before the festival. My room was a mess, my grades, well... and my love life, hah! I was sliding fast downhill, and getting bruised by gazillions of tiny little pebbles along the way. Now, I've cleaned up my room. My bed's back, a couple of tables. So now, its still spiralling, but slower. The process of change has begun. The Dark Lord shall be defeated. And all such crap.
Things are turning. Turbulence has set in. I'll wait and watch. Feel like I've been strapped into a roller coaster and I'm just waiting for the chap to press the button. Or like I'm at the top of the playground slide and the world's at my feet. Will I crash into it? Or just fly over it? We're scheduled for takeoff. Hold your breath.

The Run-up

Joy. The run-up to Unmaad, our very own cultural extravaganza (!) here at IIMB has begun. So, I finally got to paint!! That's good news, by the way. Now my hands smell of turpentine and my eyes look as if I'm in a state of coma, but that's okay really. I'm having fun, and that's all that matters.
My room got a makeover today as well. The cot came back in, and a couple of tables. Sweeping, general cleaning was done. Any visitors to my room are likely to be considerably shocked. Does this have any connection with Unmaad? No, I don't really think so. My life needed change. That's always welcome actually. Who doesn't need change? Lets not go down that road. Back to the topic under discussion.
Tomorrow comes the real thing. Unmaad. Will it be anything like Saarang, I wonder? Hardly, I should think. But still, oodles of fun. I missed Saarang. Oh well, there'll be lots of Saarangs. Lots of Unmaads. String and Indian Ocean tomorrow I believe. That should be enjoyable.
Paint still on my hand. I love this smell. Reminds me of the old days. I guess the world will be there at IIMB tomorrow then. Look me up. I'll be hanging around the carnival village,.or on the informals stage making a fool of myself. Updates on unmaad to follow soon enough. Maybe even a few pictures. Adios.

The Halcyon Days

...of my youth. Where have they gone? Ouch, ouch, ouch. And its not just my posterior that hurts. This is what twenty-three feels like, eh? Pretty much the same as before. A lot more aches though. Age, I suppose.
Yes, its been a while since I've updated. Been caught up. In Time. Growing up. Ageing. The last 23 years have gone by in a blur. Been living in one Big Time Warp. In capitals. By the way, we can call that BTW. So, the BTW has changed me. I used to be carefree, a flying falcon. No qualms. No worries. Hopes and Dreams. Fantasies and Fulfillment.
Am a grounded falcon now. Lots of worries. Responsibility. Unfulfilled Dreams. New Dreams. New Hopes. Not so many expectations of life. This isn't me. Where did I change? When did I grow up? I need to fly again.
I was talking to a friend today, and it got me thinking. I used to paint. To sketch. To let my emotions flow out in colours, shapes and myriad images. Its been more than a year since I really felt like doing that. Is it part of the process? You make new friends, you lose the old. You make new habits, you lose the old. You have new passions, you lose the old. Maybe I'm just being paranoid. I should go out and buy some paints, pencils. Sketch some things.
Actually, its been a wonderful time growing up. I've had some amazingly great times in this BTW of mine. Home. Hyderabad. The Colony. Digging up the ground looking for buried kingdoms as a kid. Anonymous spaceship flights. Secret passageways to her house. Diwalis. Holis. Christmases. Growing up a little. IIT. My first time away from home. Hostel life, a girl. Midnight walks. Backdrop work. A lot of fun. Santa. A lot of pain. An extra year. Re-modeling my life. CAT. IIM. Another hostel, another girl. A birthday, and here I am. Its been a fast, whirlwind ride. A BTW.
Ah well, twenty-three. The world is at my feet, the road ahead is murky but presumably well-laid. I'll have gold showered upon me, and scantily-clad females feeding me grapes. I'll be a flying falcon once more. That's a birthday resolution for you. Maybe I should buy some paints. And at least, I still have my sense of humour.

The End

of Term Two. Finally. Its been a bit heady, filled with fumes from the intoxicating seas of Santraginus V, in the words of Douglas Adams.
A detailed analysis of the term? Let me see. It started pretty mildly, actually. A few company ppts, here and there. Resume mentors. Resumes. Classes, of course. A few painful courses, a few enjoyable. Life, in short, was rosy. Was this the dreaded term two that seniors talked about in hushed tones?
Suddenly, all hell broke loose. We were attending classes all morning, ppts all evening, and working on our resumes all night. The profs didn't leave us alone, of course. No, we had cases to prepare, surprise quizzes to mug for, the whole deal. Oh, and did I mention Vista? The MaSh Testament, of course was a tribute to creativity. And El Dorado, the treasure hunt, drummed up much enthu and really kickstarted the events at Vista. Finally, BestSellers. My baby. Probably the finest piece of work I've been involved with. It's almost Art. Of course, working on all this didn't really leave too much room for sleep. Quiz One came and went. So did Vista.
And suddenly, the companies were here. Recruiting. Lots of people. Not me, though. Day Zero came and went. Didn't get a sniff in. Day One. Hah. I was getting a little desperate here. Day Two. Finally, I strike gold. Suddenly, everyone is interested in me??!! After much deliberation, I've settled on Castrol. Summers is done with. Record placements and all that. Yay.
We'd finally settle down and have some calm now, right? Wrong. On come the courses. Projects in everything from MPPO to Marketing to Corporate Finance. Other pressures as well. Went to Chennai, came back, had a historic conversation. Moped around for the rest of the term.
But it's over. It was over the same nanosecond I gave my QM-II end-term answer sheet to one of the great GR's many minions who were hovering around. A first smile, a first sigh of relief in days.
And I'm off to Chennai. By the morning train. Chennai promises much rest and relaxation. It better keep that promise. Till next time. Adios.

The Explanation

I am the Walrus.
The Beatles, you know. They rocked. Here we go.

I am he as you are he as you are me
and we are all together
See how they run like pigs from a gun
see how they fly
I'm crying

Sitting on a cornflake
Waiting for the van to come
Corporation T-shirt, stupid bloody Tuesday
Man you've been a naughty boy
you let your face grow long

I am the eggman They are the eggmen
I am the walrus
Goo goo g' joob

Mr. city p'liceman sitting pretty little p'licemen in a row
See how they fly like Lucy in the sky
See how they run
I'm crying
I'm crying, I'm crying

Yellow matter custard
Dripping from a dead dog's eye
Crabalocker fishwife
Pornographic priestess
Boy, you've been a naughty girl
you let your knickers down

I am the eggman They are the eggmen
I am the walrus
Goo goo g' joob

Sitting in an English garden
waiting for the sun
If the sun don't come you get a tan
from standing in the English rain

I am the eggman They are the eggmen
I am the walrus
Goo goo g' joob

Expert, texpert choking smokers
don't you think the joker laughs at you
See how they smile like pigs in a sty
See how they snide
I'm crying

Semolina pilchard climbing up the Eiffel tower
Elementary penguin singing Hare Krishna
Man, you should have seen them kicking
Edgar Allan Poe

I am the eggman
They are the eggmen
I am the walrus
Goo goo g' joob
Goo goo g' joob
Goo goo g' goo
goo goo g' joob goo

----------
and that's the reason. Any further questions can be directed to a Mr. McCartney in England.

The Beginning

Midnight. January 1 2005. A new beginning. A fresh start. Right back at Alpha.
The world's at a party. Here I am in my room, looking at Kotler, and thinking about things that are not quite Kotler.
What a funny year its been. Ups and downs. Downs and Ups. Full of opposites. Birth, Death. Joy, Sorrow. Alpha and Omega. I'm rambling. As usual. Blogging is fun!
It started at the doors of a chap who couldn't declare me insane. Thankfully. Cos I'm not insane, really. At least, I don't think I am. Anyways, that's all water under the bridge. It was all on the cover of Newsweek, as one Paul Simon would say.
Oh yes, some time in the year i became a full-fledged certified Aerospace Engineer. That was a fun five years. Also had a bunch of interviews, got through to the IIMs, came to Bangalore, started the whole journey again. And I thought it was over. The same rat race, the same relative grading, the same fleeting faces, with their fleeting smiles.
Raced through the first term, enjoyed it, went home. Made friends, broke up, fell in love. Came back for term two, and sank. Like a stone. Strong decisions were taken this term. Strong emotions welled up. I'm not made for finance. I work when I can. If I can. Vista. Summers. Castrol. Sleep. Love. Hunger. Anger. Frustration. Rejection. Dejection. Elation. Evasion.
Ah yes, marketing. I think that's the way to go. Sherlock Holmes philosophy. When you have eliminated all possibilities, whatever remains, however improbable, must be true. Projects. Freeriders. Eating Out. L squares. Old friends. New. Old flames. New. And then there are those other problems that can't really be talked about.
But overall, a good year. Good things have also happened. No more grinch-like santas. A lot of people who seem to care. A lot of things to care about. A lot of things to look forward to.
And then my mind wanders back. Meandering to the one topic I want to avoid. The end-terms. About stuff like differentiation and positioning. About target markets and personal selling. About Jack Trout and Philip Kotler. And things not quite Kotler. This is going around in circles. So here I am going insane. Just like last year. Right back at Alpha. I'll quit while I'm ahead.
Oh and, Happy New Year World.

Alpha and Omega

Here we are then. Life Anew. My first attempt at blogging reached a sad standstill during my preparation for CAT and whatnot, and a new beginning always makes things seem better. Ask any major philosopher. Or a madman. Anyway, the hiatus obviously paid off - I'm on my way to IIMB. Yippee. Hopefully, this will continue. Okay, so maybe arbit folks getting gmail offers has influenced me a tiny little bit.

Who am I, then? And what is this? The story of an ordinary chap, who has (finally!!!) graduated, but who loves his life. His universe. Everything. From birth to death. Alpha to Omega. Jayanthi to Nirvana. Amen.

But then, this is also a mission. I won't say I'm inspired by AM's musings on his life at IIML - an inspiration is the last thing that comes to mind - and this is certainly meant to be more than a diary of daily events at IIM. However, it may (or more likely may not) provide insightful peeks into my life there (and therefore, to any gossip columnist who may want to start a forest fire)... and dutiful sudents mugging for CAT filled with illusions about India's best B-school may have fun reading this. Ah well, we can only hope.

Back to the beginning then. Omega to Alpha. My universe? Revolves around me. Myself. Ah, the universe of an egoistical guy. Being selfish pays off. Ask Ayn Rand. Or the panelists at my B interview. The universe also revolves around buttered popcorn, Calvin and Hobbes, landscapes (John Constable eh? eh?), books, books, books, Metallica, Elvis, Simon and Garfunkel, you name it. It doesn't include Bollwood films and/or music though. Ugh.

Am i rambling? Who really cares? Isn't this supposed to be an online diary of sorts? And diaries are private. Things that make sense to me and no one else protect my privacy. That's optimism. Guiding principle of my life. And life is good. Back at alpha. I'll quit while I'm ahead.
Bangalore beckons. Ahh.