Great Expectations

The thing about expectations is that it is analogous to Karl Marx’s take on religion… “opium of the masses”… the more they are fulfilled, the more you start hankering for them...forgetting that there are other obligations and other compulsions in the person's life… But you expect… expect that things would take turn for the better…

Expectations often come disguised as hope… Hopes which only hurt you in the long run… Don’t allow you to face up to reality… Do not allow you to come to terms with its futility… Of certain things that were never really meant to be… But this foolish heart of yours hopes… and expects…

I don’t blame people for not having lived upto what I’d expected out of them for situations were never really condusive enough or probably they had their own pressing reasons for not living upto what I’d expected.. or probably they just did not want to… what ever the case may be… in all its practicality… i repeat the cliched lines "always keep your expectations on the low and never ever hope against hope" for some things are never meant to be…. and you end up hurting yourself by wanting them to happen…

Do i expect too much?? This question always haunts me… Expecting more than people are ready to give? Giving a piece of myself before they are ready to take me in… Why for once don’t I keep my expectations on the low, why can’t I just sit still and take whatever that is happening around around me… Drink it all in… why always try to go the extra mile for someone who does not even bother two hoots for what you hold for them… Why make yourself go through so much of crap like you deserved it… Why value every disgression and confession and derision uttered… Why hold on to every promise? Promises you look forward to being fulfilled… Surprises you wish would happen.. hoping against hope for people to return back to your life.. Wishing you’d start anew… wishing you’d atleast start accepting what life has to offer.. I look forward to that kinda perspective… Wish instead of all this sermonising I'd implement a bit of this worldly wisdom in my life as well...

But for now... I sit listless... watching things happen as a passerby... "comfortably numb" as its put...

Unaccustomed to the realities... :-/

I started reading Unaccustomed Earth by Jhumpa Lahiri close to a week back, and it being mostly short stories, helped me read it with comparative ease over the period of last week.

Now I have reached a portion which is a predominantly a longer short story giving the story of two Bengali kids who have grown up and then end up finding each other in Rome when each is at Rome for very different reasons. The girl is on her last single vacation and the guy is based in Rome as a photographer.

One of the aspects of this story is the predictability and also to some extent the similarity to the previous short stories in the book. All of them deal with Indians settled in the US in the age group of 26- 35years and how different they are as compared to their parents who would have migrated to the US in their early 30s, but all married and settled in life, hence leaving very little for change in their way of life. One tends to relate to the inhibitions parents have and the frustration grown up children face while having to explain matters to parents, who at their age having seen life in much more wider perspective, and who also seem to think all issues kids are faced with are either immaterial or of much lesser priority as compared to mainstream life.

When we read the first 2-3 short stories, we tend to feel what the author is trying to portray but on moving to the 5th or the 6th story you feel the lack of matter and the simple difference in settings and back drops creeping up as the story unfolds. Now towards the close of the book, it seems to be just a litany of differences between the two generations as seen from the author’s eyes.

At the end of some stories, there also seems to be a typical 'feel good end' which is 'listen to what your parents told you' !

When I think about some similar scenarios, the difference being I think some believe in voicing their opinions/ frustrations, and some of us listen, keep peace, and still continue to proceed with our lives as we see appropriate. This demarcation of thought will exist.

Though I believe that there is always the support and advise which one requires from parents, but under most circumstances we do tend to take our own decisions assessing pros and cons over time and finally with our fingers crossed!!!

State of confusion

Many say the divide has narrowed with regard to gender in India, at least some so believe when we talk about metros. I certainly am not sure if that is the case, in case of metros even. Here are some things which I could think of without pausing for over a few seconds between these thoughts.

• Do we have parents ever saying that boys should not return to the house late? But I am sure that even under safe surroundings, unless with parents or family, girls are never unquestioned regarding a long night out partying!


• Any choice which a girl has to make is always with associated pressures, which the boys are not faced with. You need to go far from home to work, in most cases, if not parents, someone is sure to bring up the question, " Why don't you look for a job here ? " I do not understand, why is it such a big relief to have the girls all rooted to where the parents are!


• Another aspect which I have recently seen is that, when a guy comes along and says, I am keen on marrying so and so girl, and I would like you to meet her, there is some resistance, some please note! Once the guy says that I think this is what I want to do, there is nothing more said. On the contrary a girl walks up and says that please meet this guy, I would like to marry him, there is a long list of facts and insights the girl is given about the problems, difficulties and possible outcomes all pre-decided by parents and relatives! If none of this is seen to deter her from her path, then you have the full throttle emotional blackmail route!

That is a lot of fairness at home, forgetting the world in general for a second! Well you can certainly wish to counter that girls are at least allowed to leave the house ( 1st case), to work at all ( 2nd case) and to speak of a choice in marriage ( 3rd case). I guess, here I was necessarily speaking of a metro and with some openness of thought.I think many parents are stuck in a warp zone, with mixed thoughts and reasons( which necessarily need not make sense)!

I am not sure if that is anyone's fault either. Its just a state of Confusion!

The Kite Runner

Recently I read the ‘Kite Runner’. I had planned on reading it so long back, when it had caused the rave in the literary circles and when I had read so many awe struck reviews in its favour, but that never did happen and now, finally almost a year late I finally got down to reading it, and I must admit that one of the books after a very long time which has made me finish the book in the least number of sittings.

The story and the characters somehow do that to you I believe when you are reading a fiction. Some books have it in them, and all due respect to the author alone. The last book of the same character which I read was ‘Untouchables’ by Mulk Raj Anand. The depth of the characters and their thoughts seem to always keep them on your mind, till the stories completely unveils before you, and that is what seemingly pulls you back to the pages of the book, to know what beholds for them.

Another aspect which I realized as I was reading this book was how I did know Taliban but not the fact that Russians attacked Afghanistan which along with the US support for Russia resulted in the rise of the Taliban. How can you blame a country’s men in coming up to save their country when many just fled their country with whatever that could fit into a sack! Then, what led them to their present ways of terror and hatred such that in a few years time, the natives who stayed on in Afghanistan and who looked upon the Taliban as a saviour now looked upon them as equals to the Russians a few years back.The various instances sited where so many try to leave the country only to be fooled by their own country men just for the few dollars to feed the hungry mouths at home. Who do you blame? Cheats or fathers?

Something similar to what you see in Untouchable where those fathers, mothers, brothers, wives are also in such a situation where their voice is not heard and rather there they are not even allowed to voice! A country at war looks savage and looks uncivilized, in fact looks like those times when we were also not where we are now. We move back in time with each step we take closer to war, as I truly doubt whether we will ever be able to prosper with war on our doorstep. War will only deter the growth and slow the process, but everything will eventually happen if not today, the day after!

Review of kiterunner:

Khaled Hosseini's The Kite Runner is the story of Amir and Hassan and the unique relationship they share. Initially it is a deep friendship born out of being fed by the same mother as babies and eventually turns into brotherhood.The book is a beautiful and poignant story set in the Afghanistan of fifty years ago, starting from before the Russians invaded Afghanistan up to modern day Afghanistan.

Amir and Hassan's story is reminiscent of ancient mythological stories of everlasting friendship. But one day of cowardice on Amir's part changes his life and one sin leads to another and then another.It is easy to relate with Amir in some sense, when he tries to push away the bad memories by retreating within him and evading all painful reminders. On the one side is his conscience and on the other is his longing for his father’s attention and affections. Amir is all that his father does not want in a son, while Hassan is everything he wants in his son. When Amir and his father escape to America the father-son equations seem to change for the better. America, always playing the symbol of freedom and optimism, heralding the triumph of immigrants of struggling against hardships, in so many books by Asian authors, seems to bury the old woundsbelow the surface for Amir. Until one phone call brings back the memories, the feelings of remorse but also the hope to make amends.

Hosseini writes beautifully, bringing a character to the stark Afghan countryside and its culture. He portrays Amir’s characters and deepest fears candidly, so that even though you know Amir is doing wrong, you cannot help but empathize with him at times. A father’s agony over burdens he carries in his heart, Amir’s conscience that drives him to insomnia, Hassan’s innocence and willingness to forgive – everything is written about with insight and empathy.

When I began the book, a friend told me I would cry when I finished it. A page turner that it was, I kept hoping Amir would achieve retribution. So did I cry in the end? I’m not telling. I will just say that I’d recommend this book to anyone for a touching and enjoyable read and to appreciate the coming of age of Asian writing.

My kinda town...

I love Visakhapatnam (Vizag... as the pet name goes :-)) and its old city charm. There are so many different things about Vizag that I love, little things that only someone who's lived there would know....

I love the mornings in Vizag. The cold nip in the air, the feeling that a new day is starting and anything is possible.

Mornings in my university campus, where the air is so clear that you can hear the kids in the campus servant quarters preparing for school.

GITAM campus Vinayaka temple

The pujari clipping flowers off the campus garden for the Vinayaka temple at the campus entrance, the aayamma meticulously drawing out the rangoli...

I love the greenery in Vizag. I love driving or walking in tree lined avenues.

Aerial view of the city greenery

The road that goes through the Andhra University campus with red stone buildings lined with trees, or even some parts in the heart of the city, like Siripuram or Station Road.

I love it that I've seen it's transformation from a sleepy town to a new haven for IT companies rushing forward to grab a bite in the city’s real estate (that too in just a span of 2 years!!!), simultaneously a source of pride and consternation! From a place that used to come to a standstill every time a probable cyclone or high tide in the sea was announced, to a city that never stops moving come rain or storm. I love it that it has become a hallmark of progress and better things to come.

HSBC

Satyam Development Center

Victory at Sea is a memorial for the Indian victory over Pakistan in the 1971 War. You cannot miss this memorial on the beach road.

I love it that Vizag has so many naval establishments. Gives a dignity and sense of discipline to the place.

I love the way the city has been planned.

The way you would see the sweepers sweeping the roads at midnight when the town is sleeping, so that the morning joggers wake up to a spotlessly clean beach road.

I love the Vizag weather. Even the annoying times when it's too cold in the mornings and too hot and humid in the afternoons. Even when one part of the city is pouring cats and dogs and the other part of the city is completely dry.

City view from kailasagiri hilltop

I love the local malls that have come up in Vizag. And I like old eateries like the Punjabi Dhaba near the Gurudwara and Jia’s Ice creams, Fillers (yummmm…) and the pav bhaji wala near the beach road Kali temple.

I love the old buildings that you stumble upon near the Collector’s office. Most of these buildings are gone, or are being pulled down. But you could still find a remarkable old house sandwiched between an ultra modern shiny glass door office and a cyber cafe.

I can still picture the historical statues lined along the beach road.....

.....the Submarine museum

.....the Ramakrishna Mattha

.....the Buddha Statue

.....the Sampat Vinayaka temple

.....Simhachalam temple

.....Kailasagiri hilltop

.....the Bheemili (Bheemunipatnam) beach

.....the picturesque Araku valley

.....the serene beach view.









I like the way the old and the new co-exist. The cotton-sari-mallepuvvu-in-her-hair aunty, with the tight-jeans-streaked-hair daughter.


I like the polite Vizag people. When a Vizag person is rude, he really takes the cake. But there are still a lot of awfully sweet people around. Take our very own hostel cleaning lady who always gives her best smile and goes "Enti amma? Tiffin ayyinda?". The rare honest auto driver; the friendly bus conductor who makes the bus wait when you wave from the far end of the other side of the road, and no one seems to mind.


Most of all, I love the fact that I can be myself in Vizag. I like it that there is no need to prove myself there. There isn't the rush or the competition... or at least, it can be ignored :)

Two years of my stay in Vizag showed me all that I had missed in Delhi. I liked Delhi too... Now I am in Bangalore, the IT capital of India. I love Bangalore too... but well... these cities are different from Vizag...What’s different one might wonder... I would say “There is no innocence left in these places”.

Convo @ GIIB

It was supposed to be a bright sunny day when we would all gather in the breathtakingly beautiful GITAM Campus and get our certificates from the Man Who Made GITAM ;-)

Instead, it turned out to be a damp affair, with the rain gods deciding to weep with joy to mark the passing of the 10th batch ;-) And weep they did! With bucket loads of water on the jealously guarded lawns and the sun deciding to take the weekend off, we were left with no option but to be prepared for all eventualities.


After all, as managers armored with knowledge of International Business, we needed a risk-mitigation strategy and an impact analysis matrix so as to ensure that our project would not throw any unforeseen issues that would affect quality output and give less than optimal results to all stakeholders involved. (Yay! I can finally spout management jargon!!!)

With a lot of parents and loved ones coming over and the usual oohs and aahs on how beautiful our campus was, how it seemed more of a resort than a b-school campus, it was quite some fun!














Anyways, after reaching the Mother Teresa Auditorium (Dent Audi: short form for dental college auditorium, as we fondly call it), we were given our gowns and for the umpteenth time, the PCP preached to us about how to stand, how to pledge, how to walk, how to bow and even how to smile for the cameras!!!

Finally, we were made to stand in a queue and escorted inside. The first row had sofas, which were occupied by faculty, invited guests and also the parents. The awardees were seated just behind them, along with almost our entire batch of students (still made to sit roll number wise!!!). The juniors and television crew were seated in the rear.


The convocation was simply superb. Right from the decorations to the dignitaries on the dais was awe-inspiring.


GIIB conferred the fellowship on Mr. P. Sridhar, an IIT alumnus, and a renowned entrepreneur in the presence of the President.


With the rain Gods playing hide and seek, we donned our gowns, accepted the precious certificates, smiled and posed for the shutterbugs.


I loved the limelight, loved every bit of the cheer and applause that went up when I received the certificate.


And so… that’s how I graduated… went from my bachelor’s to master’s degree… this is one moment I’ll not forget in a hurry!

Nostalgia....

Don’t know what emotion it is that wells up within me when I think about the years spent and experiences realized here; but it sure does have tinges of love and hate, joy and tears, pride and taint, laughter and pain, fame and scandal.

It must be the combination of these emotions and thoughts that lends tears to my eyes, and I can't help but admit:
Thinking of my school makes me cry!!

Sri Chitanya is a part of my very being!!I owe a lot of what I am now, to the countless days, faces, experiences and decisions there!

I can still smell the fresh paint, on the start of the academic year!

I still remember how we used to cry before going for home sick holidays!

I still remember how we used to be extremely loving the day we returned from home!

I can still recollect that we used to fight like Tom and Jerry the very next day!

I can still feel the excitement of wearing new dresses to class!

I can still see the yellow busses pull in to the campus to take us to the exam centers!

I can still feel the rebel in me, trying to break out of the shackles!

I can still see the tired, desperate warrior in me defeated by the system finally!

I can still remember the pride on being elected the class monitor!
I still remember the terror we all felt when we saw our study hour incharges!
I can still remember the thrill at the thought of the Sunday night movies in the campus lawn!
I can still see the old gardener who used to grow flowers especially for us!

I can still hear the ring of the morning bell and the resounding hymns!

I can still see myself in the choir, singing out my heart, in devotion and pride!

I can still see myself sleep away golden hours of my time!

I can still see the latecomer in me, getting scolded left and right!

I can still see the running away from wardens, the stolen afternoon naps, pillow fights!

I can still feel the illicit pleasure in eating in the class right in front of the sanskrit teacher!

I can still recollect the plans to pass chits in the class, with vigil on sir!

I still wince with pain at the verbal lashings of our counselors!

I can still see with my eyes closed, rows of beds in unison!

I can still see the freezing of movement at the bell for switching off the lights at night!

I can still feel the urge to drink coconut water in the scorching sunny afternoons!

I can still see the girls scheming to sneak out of the campus without permission!

I can still hear the speech at the passing out ceremony!

I can still recollect that moment of realization!

I can still hear my friend squeal "Its over, we are going out of the trapdoor"!

I can still feel the frozen me, see the two long years vanish in a flash!

I can recollect all this, but....

Never can I go back to those days again to relive them!

Never did those monotonous days of my life make sense to me then!

Never did I have a clue that they were actually molding me!

Never did I relish the pain then...

Never did I love the classes or the hostel then...

Never did I want to continue there...

Yet now…. I realize that somewhere in my heart, I had fallen in love with it!!

Years down the line...

Here I am with tears in my eyes...

Remembering those 'Best days of my life'!

Remembering my 'Alma Mater'....

I owe this post to my school for 2 years: Sri Chaitanya

There isnt enough darkness in this world to blow away the light within me...

I do not know who has written these words... But I remember reading them a long time ago, and the words have been resonating within me ever since...

Depressing or what???

Depressing or what???

HR in an IT company!!!

True to the core for IT employees like us...No surprise they have started calling us "IT labourers"instead of employess... and the irony of life is that we do not have holiday even on days when governemnet declares a nationwide leave, but we as sure as hell have an off on May 1st - Labour Day.

Phewww.. God! What has life come to.. Never in my wildest dreams had i thought that my multiple degrees would give me this!!!

Wanna be my roomie???

Roommates are like social mirrors. For they show you how socially misfit you are from time to time. Well, maybe not socially, but definitely adjustment challenged and suffering from idiosyncratic symptoms. As for me, I did not know there were so many adjustment issues I had till I actually started to live out of family. In a way it is so humorous that it makes me wonder if it’s really me. I mean... there is nothing good or bad about it. We are brought up with a certain set of values, learning to do certain things in a certain way, and when u live for 20 odd years with particular habits, it is more than a little difficult to get rid of them. Living with roommates for the last 2+ years have taught me the following things about myself that I did not know I had within me.

1. i am sometimes a little messy, but still I hate disorganized surroundings and I see myself going red when I have to search for things which I know I put in the correct place, but were moved by one or more of my roomies.

2. I hate it when people mess up my bed or climb onto my bed with dirty feet. I hate it when people use my bed as a table or a storage ground when they see that I’m not around.

3. Equally irritating is the habit of people not brushing their teeth in the bathroom. And just in order to vex me, my old roomie back in my last few MBA days (I better not mention the name) would make it a point to prance around everywhere in the room with her mouth full of foam, giving me that very smug “I don’t care” look. Brushing is an activity that barely takes a few minutes, and gone are the days when taking the daantun and walking by the fields was a form of morning socializing in villages. Yet no matter what, she had to carry the brush with her and make rounds in the room, sit and jump on the bed, make faces in front of the mirror, making sure that it irritated me.

4. When I come back to my room from a day’s long work (or classes previously), I HAVE TO have my space. I seldom like getting back to the room and being greeted by a horde of friends who dropped by to say hi. What more, I prefer keeping mum and not starting to talk the moment I am back. Back at home, this would be a major problem as my mom would never understand my need for peace and silence. "Did you perform badly in your exams?" "Did you have a tiff with someone?" "Did you forget to do your homework?" My need for silence would always be misinterpreted as the occurrence of something ominous in life.

5. I hate loud music. I hate people screaming, even if in happy moments. I hate people who speak with a loud voice. It is something I just cannot live with. I hate people bursting out into a sudden rage of loud laughter, especially when it is not necessary to do so. I hate people who use their loud, brash or shrill voice to make a point till the opposite person is irritated enough to let go. (Ok ok I agree I do that too, but that happens only when I’m pushed too much against the wall)

6. I have to fret about the diminishing grocery and the food in the room, needing an excuse to go to the grocery store just to make sure that the pantry is always stocked with food or its raw materials. That’s because I’m a die-hard foodie :-)

7. I cannot tolerate people jumping on beds. Or chewing gum without as much as even a break.

8. I have to put an alarm, even though I never wake up to it. Sometimes even before the alarm rings, I wake up and shut it off, just so that I can sleep in peace. My roomies have always insisted that if such is the case, I don’t need to put an alarm and let others sleep in peace. But I have to set the alarm early morning, just so that I do not suffer from the guilt of having slept late. Never mind the fact that the alarm has never been able to wake me up.

9. I cannot tolerate people wearing outside shoes inside my room, especially more so if they are covered with dirt and mud. Yet most people do not understand this, thinking that the flooring in the room is a suitable substitute to the concrete on the roads, or just because they are too lazy to bend down and remove their laces, or because they are more scared of bending down and wearing them back again.

10. Nothing bugs me more than food being wasted, morsels left uneaten on the plate to be trashed, pieces of vegetables, helpings of cakes and desserts just because you were too full to stuff yourself anymore. Of 2 cups of milk being wasted because it is long past the expiry date. Of half a dozen slices of bread left unforgotten in the hinterlands of the fridge, now with patches of moss green all over. Of your soiled and discarded plate with a few morsels of rice and the curry the cook had toiled hard to make. Of the chicken leg with enough quantities of succulent chicken to chew on. Nothing pleases me more than seeing a thoroughly cleaned up plate. And nothing bugs me more than seeing a plate that looks like the remnants of a bomb blast explosion, with food everywhere. Perhaps this is a subconscious thing driven into me since childhood, like it happens in so many value-driven middle class families (I should be thanking my father for this particular habit). I have been told time and again that food is goddess Annapurna, and wasting food is sacrilegious. Every time I would be running late for school and my throat felt too dry to shove down that piece of bread or dosa or whatever, I would be given oodles of gyaan about how privileged I was and how children my age were poverty stricken and dying on the roads. Anyway, I guess the same thing has remained with me for years. The bottom line is, do whatever, but do not waste food just because you were not sure enough about how much you could handle.

Quite a long list, and I am sure I am not one of the better people to live with, or even be a guest to. But these idiosyncrasies make us what we are. We learn to live with some, while there is only so much that we can push ourselves. Any thoughts?

Utter indifference

Whenever I got a prize back in school or I scored good marks, when I landed a good job or whenever I got a word of appreciation, I would be beaming with pride. At home I was taught to be extremely humble. So I try not to take the credit. This is an imbibed value which is sometimes interpreted by some people as forced modesty.

But it is when I feel ridiculously ashamed of myself that my emotions are high. There is a helplessness and indifference within me. And I abhor that.

The other day I was walking fast to get to the bus after a tiring day of work. I was crossing the road when I saw quite a well dressed man lying on the road, making violent spasmic convulsive gestures. Either he was hit and run over or it was an attack of fits.

People started crowding round him. I saw him and had this urge to help. But instead I kept walking ahead with my head turned back to see what was happening to him. Soon I got on to the bus and left. I kept looking back till the buildings hid my view. Till that time no one had taken any effort to help the man. There were policemen nearby. They might have taken charge of the situation after I left.

I am not bothered as to why people didn’t help him. After all, everyone’s sense of moral values and responsibilities are different.

I am ashamed and lost my self respect because I didn’t do anything to help that man. A human life had more no value than a couple of gasps and sympathetic looks. God forbid, but if he hasn’t survived, I am guilty of my indifference.

I guess we all have our set of limitations and there is only so much that we can do for others. The root cause of these limitations is the rampant evilness we see all around us. I and Akhi used to talk about how there are still helpful people around, but we have seen so much badness in the world, we have seen so many people with hidden ulterior motives, that we eye with suspicion anyone who tries to help us or be good to us.

I completely understand when the people closest to me console me saying that I should stop worrying about everything around me and that I have certain limitations since I am a woman. I know I would not have lifted him into a cab nor done all the running around in the hospital. But that doesn’t justify me being unconcerned. The whole day I was upset thinking about that. But being upset or feeling guilty doesn’t vindicate me of my indifference.

The bottom line is, whatever philosophy I borrow to confuse you and myself, I didn’t take the time nor made an effort to help a poor soul. But I have the time to blog, worry about my future and can be the first one to protest if my salary is to be dropped by even a rupee.

So I have all the time and energy that I need. It is just that the values that I had inculcated are getting lost as I move up in my life, busy adding to my so called achievements.

Gone With The Wind

This is the epic novel written by Margaret Mitchell which was later made into a Hollywood blockbuster of the late 1930's. I read this novel 6 years ago and it has touched me so deeply that I still regard it as one of the best books I have ever read in my life.

The book revolves around the story of Scarlett O’ Hara who is the beautiful, arrogant and scheming daughter of a wealthy Southern family. It’s fascinating the way she steals her sister's fiancé and how she manipulates everyone around her for her and her farm's survival during the tough times of American civil war. Scarlett is a widow with a small child when she is seventeen years old. She is twenty when the Civil War ends. Single-handedly she rebuilds the family plantation, Tara, while she cares for her ailing father and sisters. In a few short years she goes from wealth to poverty --- from being a spoiled Southern belle to plowing fields and picking cotton.

Then there is Ashley Wilkes whom she loves dearly but whom she loses to a very unassuming and lovely lady called Melanie. Ashley Wilkes marries this woman and breaks Scarlett's heart. It should have taught her that love is something that can’t always be obtained through lies and cheating but Scarlett as she is, can never understand these aspects of life. To add insult to injury, Ashley asks Scarlett to take care of his wife when he joins the Confederate Army and goes off to war.

Then comes Rhett Butler who is as unscrupulous as Scarlett, the only man whose heart she could not capture --- and the only man she really loves. He manages to get married to her after falling desperately in love with her, though by means of a mutual agreement. Scarlett fails to realize the love he has for her till the end of the novel, until Melanie tells her before her death. But by then it’s too late. Rhett Butler, probably the only person who loved her even after knowing her nature fully, says that his love for her has died.

She was a woman who suffered heartbreak, who dealt with change, who did things women weren't supposed to do --- a woman like so many of us. What attracted me to the character of Scarlett were the sheer guts she had. The scene when she kills the people who barge in where her family was hiding during the war is quite fascinating.

It seems Margaret Mitchell took 10 years to complete this magnificent book. And I would say the outcome is worth each and every minute she has spent on it.

The Friday Evening Itch

They should have some dandy product like itch guard to ward off that very definite feeling of discomfort that you experience post lunch on Fridays. It is something similar to that feeling you get when you are writing down the last answer of the last examination.

The weekend is just about to begin and even if you don’t plan to go on a blind date with Osama Bin Laden, you do feel some level of excitement. At least, you don’t have to drag yourself to office the next day. That very thought is such a relief.

Here I am with too many things piled up for the weekend. Just waiting for the day to get over.

Together

Is to be together asking for too much?

Silent Whispers

When my words fail to reach you,

All that I have to make you see what I feel....is my silence....

Growing old is mandatory, growing up is optional...

I used to be very complacent about my possessions, till I lost a very precious cellphone. Nothing much has changed now, I'm just as careless as ever, with the exception that now when something goes missing, I immediately think it's gone for good.

I used to trust people implicitly, till a lot of little incidents made me a lot more wary.

I thought death was a remote and strange thing, till I saw someone dying in front of my eyes. Now every death I hear of makes me pause and think of all those involved and their pain.

You're not scared of fire, till you get burnt.

You think money grows on trees, till it runs out.

You thik promotions are inevitable, till you see yourself getting passed by, time after time.

And when these things happen, you go out and buy an insurance policy, you install an alarm system, you don't walk out after dark and you keep a stock of bandaids in your purse. You adjust your optimism to reality.This is what growing up is all about. The knowledge that things can go wrong.

Age should not be counted in time, but in crises faced. I know of 30 years olds who are unbelievably childish. I know of kids who are 7 years, going on 50.And with each crises faced, you start living a little less. You go out in the morning, knowing that a hundred different things can go wrong. They say that pain that is expected is much worse than that catches you unawares. When you play, you try not to scrape your knees. You stop laughing from the heart. And you miss the rainbow, because you are looking at the slush caused by the rain.

There are some who never learn. Who refuse to accept that reality is very different from their rosy dreams. That life, somehow, will conform with their dreams. These are the people who annoy everyone else by their naivete. The friend who always falls for the wrong guy, and them comes crying to you. Those who never study, but are surprised when they fail.And yet, there are those who know and acknowledge reality, but never let it limit their experience of life. These are the people who will lock their door at night, but do not live in the dread of being burgled. It is said that the fear of dying does not keep you from dying, it keeps you from living.

It is the state of mind that makes life worthwhile. Things will go wrong, and while I will prepare for it, I will not stop living because of it...

'Growing old is mandatory, growing up is optional'..

Side Effects of an MBA

I had this sudden urge to start a series of posts on what life actually is like in a B-school, and what this life does to a person. This is the first of such series of posts..

Here I try to explore the side effects of an MBA which are carcinogenic and start breeding in the blood of every MBA student the day he/she puts his/her foot on the revered B-school campus, but the symptoms of cancer are visible sooner than the actual cancer. Even after this nobody does anything to remove these tumors which lead to an explosive growth in their sizes hampering the normal course of life of everyone around an MBA student and the student himself.

People going to a B-school start thinking of themselves as no lesser than a demi-God, simultaneously forgetting about other 120 odd (batch mates) self professed Gods. This leads to ego clashes between every one, where in everyone thinks he/she is correct and the other person is a moron who has no right whatsoever to speak in the presence of His majesty.

People become short tempered ready to blow the fuse at the slightest of provocation. They become intolerant of other students, simply intolerant of their mere presence around them, looking frantically for the pettiest of reasons to rip each other off. Even a slight error on someone’s part is blown out of proportions thinking that as the only chance in the lifetime they have got to get the better of the other person.

Forgiveness is a forgotten virtue and is considered a vile by many. There are no friends there, only contacts and batch-mates which may help you bargain for a job sometime down the years when you need one, that too not because of friendship but because of alma mater ties.

It may be purely because of being more mature and practical than each of us was in our undergrad days, when emotions were strong and lifelong friendship really blossomed amongst fellow batchmates. Or for some, maybe having worked for some time in the harsh and unforgiving corporate world would have changed us. Each of these can be a reason, independently or as a combined package.

One very peculiar change I personally observed in fellow MBA grads is the ever declining ratio of emotional quotient. People lose their sensitivity and become hardened; which may be appropriately called stress hardening in pure engineering terms. Personal and intangible issues take a backseat and life of almost everyone becomes mechanistic to its extreme point. Humans turn into machines churning out PowerPoints and word reports at the pace of Brett Lee bowling on WACA pitch. This murder of the child within each of us may also be one of the reasons of the perceived hostility amongst almost everyone.

Other thing people forget coming to a B-school are their pre MBA relationships. It is a widely accepted fact that almost 50% of pre-engaged couples break up within the first 6 months of their MBA and start afresh with someone inside the campus. Now is this due to lack of time to spend with the first fiancée or plenty of time spent with someone else on the compulsion of assignments or projects, I have no clue. The funniest part is that people who are surrounded by so many people get so lonely that they don’t have a soul to talk to. Maybe that drives people near to each other and the sheer distance from the original loved one takes the relationship away. I am no authority to analyze the issue morally since it is a totally private matter of the involved parties. But certainly I can observe and look at the issue as a neutral connection.

Studying in a fully residential course, I can relate some causes to these side effects. Group assignments and projects were supposed to foster team spirit in people working together, but here they achieve an opposite of that. People spend so much time together for work related reasons that they get bored of each other. Now generally if you don’t like someone in real life, you simply ignore him and things become normal, but here you have to work with the same person acting as a coherent team. The very thought of a free rider eating away the fruits of your hard-work can be very frustrating and disheartening and when you see that happening almost every day you just want to kill that parasite. These frustrations search desperately for a reason to be vent out.

The other reason can be simple pressure to do better than others, on whatever expenses it may be. Competition doesn’t end with cracking CAT, it actually starts from there on. People realize the laws of supply and demand and most likely they learn it the harsher way. The relative grading system doesn’t help either. People go to all extremes to stop the other person from getting a better grade or a better job, in fact even a better friend. Effect: no respect or gentle feeling for others since they all are your competitors before being anyone else. Sadism is the art which people acquire automatically, taking extreme pleasure in every small thing that can cause even the slightest of pain to the other.

I do not know if these changes are found only in a fully residential course or are just a common phenomenon with every MBA course. What I really know is that, there are not many friends out there, and if you can find some, you are a very lucky person. People believe that the only way to be on top is via someone else’s head. I believe that a B-school teaches us to be shrewd, unkind and diplomatic besides the other never ending boring theories and may be these are the learnings which will ultimately matter in your adventures when you step into the corporate life.

Hustling and jostling with these side effects of MBA, I have successfully finished off my MBA. If you just think of these as the side dishes in a multi course meal; “they add to the spice of the meal” and you have a totally new perspective of things. :)