The Great IIM Mela Part 2

April 9th was a weird day by all standards. I was up at 4 am (horror of horrors). I guess I couldn’t sleep very well. And yet I felt an unnatural calm. I was almost dispassionate. With the end of day zee, a sense of finality had set in. I wasn’t going to join a hotshot I-bank from campus. The next best thing was to focus on what I could achieve the same day. As I got dressed to leave, I could not help grin about how my penalties had finally lapsed the previous night. I was a free man. The insti could hurt me no more…

I looked around me when I got to the MDC. It was definitely quieter than yesterday. Day 0.5 – as tradition has it was carved out to help people recover from the chaotic first day. Yet this year promised to be different. India needed a lot of fin people or so we had been told. And all the big names were up today…

11:30 am… So much for the cheerful exuberance in the morning. I have had only 1 interview so far. My interviewer, who would have looked far more at home at a disc or a Page 3 cocktail affair, had politely inquired about my marital status, age, number of siblings and political contacts. It seemed more like a proposition than an interview.

Next up with the ICL’s lead sponsor. My booming interviewer, a monster of a man doesn’t stop yelling at me. “I am spoilt for choice. I have interns from every top bank in the world interviewing with me today.” He summed it up beautifully. Economics had indeed triumphed. The Indian banks were kicked with their new bargaining power vis-à-vis the unfortunate batch. And that I believe was the order of the day.

I emerged trembling from that interview. My ego shattered, my eyes turbulent pools of tears; terrified by the man. I have never hated a man so much in so little time.

And then déjà vu had to happen. Two companies; both equally interested (at least both seemed like in the beginning) and me the unsure one. I ace the first part of Company A’s interview with economics but falter at Bond maths. The two gentlemen however are impressed and subsequently make their offer known to the PRs. And I was off gallivanting before Company B. Two interviews, two more telephonic interviews and 3 hours later B rejects me. In the meanwhile I have been hidden in a room so that A doesn’t discover me; have been surrounded by 6 PRs and shepherded from one process to another all the while being coached “Say this say that”. It does sound funny now doesn’t it. At that point of time though, it wasn’t in the least.

At least my courtroom drama did have a happy ending. A allows itself to be persuaded to still hire me in spite of their initial protests. And as they leave the process, Ghoda signals me that they have accepted me. I sink gratefully to my knees oblivious to everything. It had ended. I am vaguely aware of people around me patting my back, hugging me, ruffling my hair. I stood stock still unbelieving, reveling in the moment with my friends. I think about everyone who’s stood by me. The two PRs who fought for me, the little devil so far away then, who I had promised I would crack a top Indian bank, and the 3 idiots who stuck by me all the while. Countless others who had believed in me, supported me or had simply held me when I had faltered.

I walk out after some time on uncertain feet. I hear more good news. My buddies have also landed jobs. Collective happiness…the most beautiful thing. The Mela though must still go on…

Drinking Alone

Why is drinking alone so misconstrued? Is such behaviour (classically referred to as problem drinking) dangerous for the individual? Or could it be very inocuous? After all people do eat, watch movies, play computer games alone. Why does alcohol carry so much social stigma?

The Great Indian IIM Mela Part 1...

Is it possible to spew out everything you have learnt in the last few years to rank strangers over and over again all day? Is it possible to be so mindlessly numbed so that you don't even know what you are saying and yet realise that your mouth keeps moving and words are coming out? Welcome to the Great Indian IIM Mela, the weirdest potpourri of emotions that one can come across in a lifetime. Pain, agony, aggression, camaraderie, sometimes pure joy but underlying all that there is pressure. Its' everywhere. You can feel it in the faces of your classmates, in the FBI agent lookalike PRs, the trackers swarming around. And to my mind the scariest thing about the close of this life. The drooping shoulders, watching people break down, the set expressions or the forced smiles don't make for pleasant viewing...And yet there is strength and honour :)

Mar 4th (day Zee) - The holiest of holies. The day of reckoning as they put it. For some it would be the realisation of all efforts they had put in over a fairly long point of time. For others I guess not so much. I believe I take the cake in my Day zee preparedness. What with being dragged out from my room from watching 'Two and half men' straight into the Markets interview of my summers company. I think I couldn't stand their scrutiny in the brief interaction and the silent way in which they judged me. I had failed to make the PPO cut and as such had been deemed a pariah. It would have been a miracle if they had hired me.

My personal heroes of that day are undoubtedly a certain horse-like chap I love and a strong silent neighbour. Both strode like giants and won the day in very different ways. I admire their courage and fortitude, again in contrasting styles. One for the manner in which he killed the day and other for unbelievable effort.

And the the night began, a long one. You could feel the tension in the air. Cold forbidding silence. Even the victors of the day would grieve. For in every group there would be a dear friend still left in the process.

It's emotionally draining to write this. I have to postpone the next part to a subsequent post.

Spring

There are many getaways from abject failure. Very easy ones as well. The simplest is to lock yourself in isolation and ruminate over the past. Well its’ tougher than it sounds. Others meander into addictions, yet more self-introspections and sometimes the most drastic step, which I shan’t mention here for the sake of surviving the most terrible beating I would receive and one drunken Bangkok night. The easiest way out is companionship of those who you care for. Love and affection can infuse life into even those who have lost the will to exist. This one is dedicated to all those who stooped to bring back the dead to life….

Arid lands laid waste by the west wind

A blanket of snow and lifelessness

For none lived when even water surrendered

Captive to the icy layers

Ah but does life ever give up

Meanders it in mysterious ways

Bubbling in suspended isolation

For the warm might yet return

For life teams in hidden caverns

In stolen water under the icy calm

And melt away will the stony silence

When life will silence the autumn leaves

And there shall be spring and bloom

Flowers will rise in every brook

The sea of colours will overwhelm

Every inch of winter that ever remained

The Land of Nod

The Land of Nod

A medley of thoughts, hopes and expressions

Yet with unwavering honesty and conviction

She strides across my life fleetingly

Brighter than many who crossed my sky.

One moment she stares across the room

And as I wonder to myself

Could a mere smile be so beautiful?

To light my life with so much optimism

There she has passed into the Land of Nod.

Her beauty is a wondrous sight

And yes she very well knows it

For she stands out as stark

As a beacon in a jungle of monstrosities

Her beauty however is but one of many

A gift which she proudly possesses

Be the written word or the spoken

She essays them with fire and élan.

Here must I reluctantly stop

My puny words do no further justice

To script her saga or call it tale

One of the finest who I have ever known

The King of Hearts

The King of Hearts

A king needs her kingdom

To rule and govern

Those whose lives she has touched

By many a gift some seen others hidden

A child and yet a woman

Of matchless charm and magnetism

Her beauty and wit have no measure

Mere mortals cannot but come even close

A magical pen does she wield

It essays many a picturesque dream

Her words wreathed with her own beauty

Laced with power and sheer delight

But more potent than her charm or intellect

Is her power of belief and faith

In people, ideas or even a passing thought

She can move mountains if she wants to.

A loyal subject have I been for years

Loving, admiring and looking up to her

Alas the journey draws to a close

The light will move way and leave behind

A grieving me for her company and strength.

The Eyes

Full many a path had I tread

Till the edge of the dark forest

And each time overwrought by the mist

Would I return morose but hopeful

Those gloomy recesses had stirred

Within me an unforeseen desire

To venture into the uninviting depths

I had only but myself to overcome

Till finally stung by a grave wrong

I plunged fearlessly into them

Heedless of even the great Medusa

No mere gaze could now turn me to stone

And then at last I beheld them

Those twin pools of gray-green

Seething with gravity yet full of mischief

Dripping with sorrow yet kind and inviting

The most beautiful sight I had ever seen

All my woes suddenly seemed forgotten

I only wished to stare at the misty depths

Even Father Time seemed vanquished

I emerged a converted believer