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. :)