The leap to the Corporate Lap

This write up comes as a sequel to the 5 point something which I wrote after the first year.Urged not by rave reviews of the first but by the sheer habit of punditry which I just cant resist I thought of penning a view suggestions for my juniors who, just like I was are always eyes and ears when anything remotely similar to an algorithm with the output either job, intern or gf comes up.

Every one comes to iit driven by passion and thirst, no. not by thirst for knowledge but rather thirst for money power and prestige. The passion is fuelled by a mirage which allures many an innocent chap into believing that exit would be as glorious and venerated as the entrance, however, here comes the reality check. As in the last 2 years I realize, the navigating the labyrinth of iit life is easier said than done. And many stalwarts who arrived here with chest pumped up and larger than life statures seems to be painfully unconfident and tottering when the parting bells toll. They despair at the glories of those who nudged their way past into the velvet cushioned and Prada donned lap of the beckoning corporate world in contrast to the relegation of most to simply fresh graduates or engineers from an engineering college sans the haloes which we so easily get used to. It is true the crying baby gets the milk and along with it the mothers lap, but neither we are babies nor something as petty as milk are we talking about. Surely, a lot more than crying is required. Sucking up to seniors may not be everyone’s cup of tea, but seniors are where the bounty of power flows at iit , something of which I was clueless of . Though I was raving about my success combating ragging in my post after the first year, it has turned to be my Achilles heel. Convincing the seniors about ones leadership skills all the while being their toady is the only way to ensure one has something to make eyes wobble when corporate leaders ponder if you are fit to join their league.

The other big thing in iit is of course the exchange program. I nudged my way into the short list and finally gave a very honest interview which the professors liked. Writing a true and cogent Statement Of Purpose and regularly participating in QC and EDLC events ensured I was more than a push over.

In IIT, everything is numbered, from the rasgulas to the girls. However there is number which stands out and it is the CGPA. It is like the RBC in our body , higher the count, healthier are ones chances, otherwise, one may just brace up for lots of blues at the end.



Prodded by my didactic juices, I was urged to pen down a long long essay starting from how to make that priceless Rendezvous pass in the first year count to never falling asleep after having put up a difficult question to the professor in class earlier when I thought let me cut down everything which is irrelevant to how to get a great job after passing out. I feel a sense of incapability and humility writing this extremely proud and bombastic post, because, I haven’t been able to follow what I am preaching. I hope my ignorance, my attempts in vain and a partial success condone me from hypocrisy.
I know it is too late to correct a few mistakes which I did and I hope I wont be punished for them Philanthropy scores over my apprehension of ridicule as I end up belaboring a few ideas in a domain which I have only seen and been a part of , and utterly lack the experience of a person on the other side of the river.

good is not cool

In childhood what does one have to do to be good?
He has to fit into the norm, has to maneuver himself into that tiny space of being the “good” child. It might mean being deaf dumb and bind…deaf to the mouthfuls of expletives that one gets to hear daily , dumb to all the hissing and swishing that goes behind the back in school, and blind to any beauty that God has endowed which Is not masculine. Goaded by the heaps of praise from the family members especially from the aunts, and driven by the urge to be recognized as nothing but of flawless character, he has to shroud the colorful part of his character in sacred veils of duty, ethics and self discipline. He has to perform daily work in a clockwork precision and be oblivious to everything in the world apart from the common good.

He is not used to cracking jokes, grown up listening to conversations about politicians and UTI bankruptcies. The greatest jokes have been about how happiness is inversely proportional to desires and how Unit Trust of India is UN Trust of India. In hostel gheraoes when he pops up the same jokes he is told to get banished from sight into his small confinement even which he can’t call his own.

In college and in the corporate world, he has to be when he has to do everything he has suppressed till now. Firing expletives is cool, tracing trajectories of back biting have to be mastered and opposite sex have to be kept charmed. Nascent and innocent, the good guy of childhood stumbles and falls and is laughed at and made a scape goat. He retreats to a corner, makes designs tries to carve a niche but then realized the world has moved on. He is said to be dark, boring unattractive and simply not COOL.

He has to change. The key is to change colors. It is best to smile hard when the word demands and keep quiet when the world smiles at you, only then can you spot a smile in your face when you look at the mirror.

travelogs

The weekend trips to La Rochelle and Bordeaux when nothing inexplicable happened and the trip to Marseille and Montpellier which was more creepy than thrilling I was a bit apprehensive about my weeklong trip to Paris. However the sojourn at Paris was wonderful reprieve from the life in Toulouse which now seems to be mundane.

Paris is indeed a city which captivated my imagination . I really enjoyed strolling in the street when the pace of life got my pulse racing and where the smell of money, of privilege and of a world which is class apart comes wafting out from the shop windows of Chanel .

The Eiffel rises into the city’s skyline confidently and eternally embodies the spirit of the people , the seamless confidence in which they rush into the trams and out of them into the cars and the shops. The sellers at the bottom of the Eiffel ,wearing counterfeit DKNYs and more jackets than I was wearing at that time peddling miniatures are themselves like their wares …carving out their own space and imitating the grand at the same time .

Not very far from Eiffle is The Louvre….

Louvre Museum is like the Buckingham Palace humongous and ornate. However sans Banded Ear or the Last Supper or the Van Gogh auto portrait Louvre is not much more than the Louvre Palace and the inverted pyramids. However, Mona didi did intrigue me with her smile. With our hearts glowing after having received the smile of Mona Lisa and having been a witness to the finest pieces of art created ever, next day we decided to start from the Pantheon… where the French greats rest.

The Pantheon is indeed very grand not quite reminiscent of the usual blandness of a tomb and perhaps, it brings into light the fact that death was indeed a celebration in the olden days , something which even new age Gurus like Osho advocate..are we going back as we go ahead in time??

Err…was I talking about the places of interest in Paris??

Musee d’ Orsay was a treat to the artist in me. the vivid colors of Monet, the skill and deftness of Van Gogh and the grandness of Couloir left me enthralled. Renoirs was amazing too...the list is just endless......

We scanned the other places of interest ….

The cruise on Sienne, the climb to the top of Arc de Triomphe followed by the promenade on the Champs de Elysees ,the window shopping on galleries of Laffayat,the beautiful gardens of Luxembourg and Tilluaires and the Arc de Defence, the commercial hub of Paris , a 1 day trip to the Chataeu of Versailles which is a stamp on royalty and luxury , the strut on the Pigalle and the shy smiles in front of the Moulin Rouge.

Last but not the least.....the impeccable English of a young woman whom I met in Paris is easily the best English I have heard in recent times. The combination of superb English and french looks is indeed as good as the french wine..however which one is better, I am clueless....How do I know when I have tasted neither??

We made the trip out of scratch…..a 5 day trip just for 120 euros!! With accommodation free in the hostels of my friend and transportation in Covoiturage and food from the cheapest shops and entry into the wonders negotiated successfully it has been an experience to remember.

Am I 20?

Why I feel I am 20 and Why I feel..I still ain’t….


He still calls up his parents daily to talk to them.
He doesn’t talk to them for more than 20 minutes.

He buys milk when his friends animatedly dispute which beer to be bought.
He has been to bar, disco , night club..tasted wine..

He still says what he feels and feels what he says
He keeps quite when he feels the opposition is too heavy.

He still spills food and milk and whatever is in his hands at least once a month.
He has learnt to eat with a fork and knife the French style.

He still rides cycle as a habit and not just for promotional campaigns.
He goes to promotional campaigns because he loves to see the jaws of DU chicks drop.(something which makes IIT Delhi stand out…)

He hasn’t washed a single piece of cloth till date and hasn’t cooked a single meal all by himself.
He figured out how to operate a behemoth called a washing machine fully configured in French all by himself.

He can't find his way to the stack of plates kept right in front of him and looks and seems to be all over the place.
He never had any problem in finding his way in the Paris International Airport.


He is still as obstinate about the things as he was to get the Hot wheel.

He cries and cribs and then gives up…when he realizes something is beyond his reach.(which most things these days seem to be..)

He sobs, he doesn’t weep.

He sobs when no one is watching.

He feels mothers lap is the best place in the world.
He hasn’t been in there for a month now.

the shuddering and the shedding...

Shedding teen hood on the banks of Mediterranean

It had been a long day…..
As it became darker, our worries grew and the fatigue too kept on increasing. Faced with the arduous task of finding the accommodation in a remote locality in a French city known to be dangerous, somehow we kept our spirits high and our legs moving. Finally in the suburbs did we locate the Auberge de Jaunese or the Youth hostel . However that was not the end of our worries, or perhaps that was just the beginning. The petulant old manager let us now in very firm voice that we could not just check out before 7 am which meant we would be missing the train to Montpellier. A few swift action minded people started packing the bags without thinking of the consequences. I wanted to stay put however in a group of 9 one doesn’t have much say. With nowhere to go we were literally in the dark. After groping in the dark with another group of 3 Californians looking for a way we finally came to square 1…squatting in front of the Youth Hostel gate .Every car slowing down increased our heart beat every second was passed with a scare deep side and the confident aplomb of the iitian outside. After many such moments and many whines and shudders, there was light at the end of the tunnel. It paid to be born in a country with a billion plus people, wherever you go you will find an Indian and each of them is just so hospitable. The Indian hospitability goes much beyond the customary French greetings, it helps when it is needed the most. The very sympathetic and helpful Indian Post Doc researcher, Pramod agreed to let us in. Followed by a frantic search for taxi made possible by the more expansive networks both telephonic and humane these days and more map reading by our navigators we reached his residence. His residence was more than heaven for us, and I just managed to catch 40 winks. When it was 430, again it was time to move, this time to Montpellier where I would cross my teen hood.
I never myself realized when I entered teen hood but the exit has been with a bang. Just as it is great to hear a bang and see it from a distance my 20th birth day has been just picture perfect to describe in , difficult to be in. On the banks of the Mediterranean I was watching the Sun set into the sea when the clock turned 12 in India and I believe I turned 20. I just managed to salute the glorious Sun with my folded hands in gratitude for the 20 years that he has given me to live.

To give or not to give

The hardest thing to accept in this world I believe is undoubtedly defeat and all the arguments suggesting that in the battle between two equals it all depends on which side does the God smile make it all the worse. Why me and why not me keep me occupied for days, I admire those who are able to shrug it off and move on. I am usually very passionate and determined to avoid such a scenario and would rather beg and kneel than cry in sorrow. It isn’t that begging doesn’t hurt my self esteem but sometimes there is no other thing to do than turn towards the Almighty with hands folded in utter desperation.
Undoubtedly it hurts a lot more to plead before a mortal than to kneel before God. And this brings me to the ubiquitous Indian beggar who struggles to make his both ends meet doing day in and day out something which is extremely hard and painstaking. To add to his misery is the scorching Sun and the frosty winter making begging as a profession the most difficult in my eyes. The world of cut throat competition where every one is busy watching his own steps, no one can afford to donate a beggar more than a corner of his glance making the income harder to come by for the poor fellows. Unconfirmed hearsays about a single beggar in a country earning just enough to make his both ends meet notwithstanding, the rest 1 million of the lot undoubtedly are rotting away in abjure poverty . I just can’t fathom why if anyone has an opportunity won’t jump out of such a heart rendering situation.
We all are well aware of the lackadaisical nature of the Indian government and the sloppy poverty alleviation programs. It is just hypocrisy when we bribe our way through serpentine queues and never dare to buy anything from the PDS shops to expect the beggars who neither have political connections or cash in their cache to avail the ostentatious and apocryphal programs of the Indian government.
For long I have wondered at the rarefied bubble in which the royals live...so much insulation form the rest of the world such nonchalance. In due course of time I have realized and unfortunately party acquired the ability to see through surroundings to cast a blind eye towards those who are not as lucky.
May be the next time a beggars knocks at your window rolling down the glass and helping him to survive might just be a better idea. After all, we are all beggars in the world and we know it hurts being denied.

Frech escapades

9th September 2009

Dear diary

It has been a week in France. I don’t know how to begin partly because of the simultaneous deterioration of my English with the improvement of my French and more significantly because of my complete inability to summarize in one word the days that have just gone by. When compared to the first week of September of 2007 it has been a dream but not exactly the kind of dreams I would love to realize.
The journey to Toulouse was besotted with hassles. However enroute, I also had my first bush with French cordiality.

The university campus seems very much like the Refinery Townships that I have been brought up in , the city is just an extrapolation. Clean and scarcely populated. The people are extremely, helpful and polite, though the guys see us with a mixture of arrogance, envy and suspicion. Some damsels absolutely ignore and some earnestly mount 2 pecks on every ones cheeks. Surprisingly many are like the IIT gals, very hardworking, motivated and sincere. It very surprisingly forms my most exciting experience In France.

Being a 19 year old, I may be expected to go gaga over the long and short of skirts here, but really it’s like channel V. You never switch it on after the first day.

After my visit to shopping mall here I have no doubt, after we became champions in 20-20, we are on our way on becoming a champion in 2020 again.

In my French class here there was a German, Brazilians, Spanish, Swedish, Italian and me. The professor was very soft spoken and kind but I heard he is one of a kind here. I was fabulously impressed when the only girl in my class came up to me on her own accord to explain the formalities to open a bank account here. I was more impressed to see her meticulous notes later on. Unfortunately I don’t know anything about her apart from her name, which I am not sure how to spell but I guess wherever I am there is always such a girl in my class. All of them find me too boring because whenever they are talking to me I am admiring their notes.

The parties are very frequent here though if you go in 2 consecutively you won’t go to the 3rd. However one was a big one when those who have better things to do than attending parties also came and it was wonderful. I was glad to bump into that Brazilian gal in it …she asked me something in French ... must have I guess been if I knew tango... i cudn’t comprehend but I thought its better to say yes …2 moments later on she took my arm and ….2 moments later she went away.

Next morning she was giving me angry glances.

Whenever I see Indian dress here I make a move…not really attracted by the sartorial appeal but by the prospective fragrance of chicken biryani I guess… I have met a Pakistani, a Bangladeshi and I guess an Indian today who said he was in a hurry.

There is an Indian girl in my hostel who really is very kind and helpful, sometimes cooks rice for me. She has really inspired my faith in the quality of French education as she works as hard as I used to do when I was in my toiling mode. My conscience is really prodding me to quit writing blogs and start studying something brain racking.

I was eating in the cafeteria today when I was messing around, something for which I am quite famous even in my hostel. I could see the lady sitting in my front was trying hard not to look at me. I requested her to teach me how to use fork and knife and she did it with great enthusiasm, patience and care. She spent the next 15 minutes just showing how to hold a fork the French way as I am very bad picking up grips and postures.
When Srikant asked me how life at INSA Toulouse is different from that in IIT, I think it is just different in 2 ways. You cut the jeans of the IITgals mid way and cook the food without spices, and use google translate , you have INSA Toulouse…the same work ethics, the same motivation in life the same ambitions…..After all bread is the staff of life..the rat race is universal…..I am not going to bell the CAT…I have to run!!!

I M IN TV!!!!!!!

These days just like any 19 year old I wake up with lots of hopes, ambitions and worries.I am inundated with thoughts about different courses that the day might take even before my cup of tea.One such day was 24th July 2009.As usual, nothing had been similar to what I had thought of , no matter how hard I may just try to expect the unexpected. I could never conjure up that I will somehow find myself as the NDTV studio , just 2 hours after I had the rendezvous with the higher and the mightier ( no , not the Prez of India, but my thoughts....)

5 minutes before the interview , the very drawn to earth and charming Jyotiraditya Scindia walks in. 2 years after having passed in dilapidated but hallowed corridors of IIT , honestly speakin, never I have been flattered , but on the contrary have been humiliated, chastised , boycotted and insulted.

I was in a stupor waiting for the interview to begin when something woke me up or rather led me to a dream. "you are from IIT , you should be sitting where I am in and I should sit where you are in. I never could dream to make it to the IITs"

I tried to enlighten his deliberate oblivion to the fact that 7500 students these days make it to the IIT but there is just 1 Jyotiraditya Scindia. He pretended his ignorence but he was smiling from ear to ear.

I guess when he had given me so much pleasure , he deserved the contentment of a pleasing remark. After all alliance is the name of the game today and who knows it better?

P.S : The day also marked my first appearance on tv, I managed to utter something
just in time to grab the camera. Revved up by the exhilarating day I tried for some adventure at night. NO doubt it was adventurous but I will reserve it for a chetan bhagat clone novel for the future.

paradox

Guys….another article from the same boorish, old in a young body boring Pinak…..and it comes at a time went the air is especially abuzz…its only once that the hostel gets charged up like this….and its only once when the usually miser IITians gets generous…..but yes, there is no free lunch..And everything comes with a string attached……read here...vote…yes, every vote counts and it does feel nice to b a part of a miniscule of what is the famous Abraham Lincoln called “govt of the people(read here ambitious), by the people (read here….of the tacticians) and for the people(read here , the opportunists)….

It was an assignment form my particularly globalised teacher of a particularly simple subject which led me to a particularly respected website to find my particularly incompetent teacher’ s pic at the top only to b particularly proud and devastated at the same time. For those wondering why particularly has been repeated, I let u do the thinking and move on…to the more poignant topic which I have been wondering on for some time. There have not been things happening around me which not necessarily confirm the adage that hard work never goes unrewarded nor does it instill in me the faith that the talented and deserving always get the berry. ..It is easier to find the more athletic and the skillful monkey getting to the top of the branch to get the sweetest fruits...however the passage of time has only made world infinitely complex…and may be...in the process of gaining intricacy the basic principles of pattern have been lost…taking the liberty to compare humans with monkeys (hope in these increasingly Talibanised times a fatwa is not released against me)…it is the monkey with a rope which is making to the top..or that’s how I have the tendency to perceive things…thoughts which seemed bizarre to me when I was taught the vikram seths poem frog and the nightingale when I was very nascent have start making sense to me…talent and skill are the two edged knives which those with gloves can use to cut into you ..To ensure they drink all the blood and can use your knives to cut many others…

Steve Waugh said sledging is a skill…may be ….politics is a mental exercise….since brain always has its way above brawn…may b ewe r already in the world...when politics appeasement pacification holds the key to the treasure..The one and only strategy to rise….on the shoulders of those who toil...toil so that shoulders can be firmer so that...the manipulative rise higher….it may seem to b perfect logic to have firmer and firmer bases as we go to the bottom of the pyramid..However as it is...human emotions don’t run on logic and even if it does...it relies on the simple notion that the deserving should get it due…......
May be God has a different interpretation and a more beautiful design that just seems lost to me at the moment….May be because simple beautiful colorful patterns look absolutely messy from inside…hope the page (or the cloth) will be turned……