On Facebook, there’s an option to share your likes–music, TV, sports teams, etc. And then there’s an option to highlight the people who inspire you. And I couldn’t think of anyone except the following:

Happy Birthday, dad.

This post was originally published on my blog, Thought Overflow | For poetry and more of my writing, check out my website at Gurdit.com.

Feed enhanced by Better Feed from Ozh

Some ads are just poorly thought out and executed, but there’s already a post about ridiculous ads. Some others are just wrong, ethically. And it’s not just the ads that are the wrong, but the entire brand positioning. The worst of these are ads that prey on one’s insecurities, like ads for fairness creams.

And though I’m itching to write another example, I can’t because I’ll feel like a hypocrite. It’s at times like these when I realise I’m just a cog in the machine, and a nut like me can be easily replaced by maintenance. Get in line or get out. And that’s coupled with my inherent apathy, my cynical outlook to life which convinces me that nothing will change, or even if it does, I won’t be the catalyst for it. Heck, I reckon I should spend more time trying to grab control of my own life before trying to influence that of the world’s, don’t you think?

The problem is that I’m unsure about a lot of things in life. And, true to the perfectionist that I am, unless I’m sure of the right way of doing things, and unless I’m sure of complete and immediate success, I don’t even want to attempt. And this makes no sense. About a year ago, when I was taking feedback from others about my strengths and weaknesses (as part of the PEL course), I was surprised to find that people perceived that in moments of crisis, I was the one who kept a cool head. So then, if I am capable of dealing with failure (which is sometimes inevitable), what is it that really prevents me from being a little more adventurous?

This post was originally published on my blog, Thought Overflow | For poetry and more of my writing, check out my website at Gurdit.com.

Feed enhanced by Better Feed from Ozh

Whatever.

This is not really a post about nostalgia. This is a post about things I miss.

Things everyone misses, I suppose.

School days. Videogames. College days. Not having such a critical outlook about everything. Not being dissatisfied with just about everything. Movies I enjoyed in the past somehow seem not to be as good when I watch them now. Things fall flat. Everything is imperfect, and that’s beginning to bother me more and more.

And try as I might, I can’t seem to put my finger on what’s causing it.

RAMBLE ALERT! I want my car.

~fin

This post was originally published on my blog, Thought Overflow | For poetry and more of my writing, check out my website at Gurdit.com.

Feed enhanced by Better Feed from Ozh

Is it just me or does Media Player 12 (bundled with Windows 7) really not have equaliser or other sound enhancement options? What kind of self-respecting media player doesn’t allow the listener to improve the bass or treble, at the very least? Makes me miss Quintessential all the more.

That being said, I’m glad I’ve transferred my entire music library to my work laptop. It feels awesome to listen to songs I haven’t heard in ages, despite Media Player 12’s best efforts to detract from the experience.

Smile. Seriously.

Ok, this is going to be extremely cheesy and very cliché. But it’s seriously amazing how much different a smile can make. When I was walking into the aircraft, the air-hostess was a little busy attending to the captain. While I waited a couple of seconds for the line to move ahead, she suddenly turned around and flashed her brightest smile at me. The pleasantness of her greeting immediately put me in a good mood.

I’ve noticed over the last few days that I don’t really care too much about how pretty the air-hostesses are. What I would prefer more strongly is that they smile and look pleasant.

Airports

There’s a lot of hype about this airport – Indira Gandhi International Airport Terminal 3, New Delhi. It’s impressive. It’s huge. It’s also quite annoying. We spent at least 10 minutes walking from the gate to the baggage claim area. Apparently, all big international airports have such long walking areas. Meh. Don’t care. I’d much rather land at Hyderabad and get out faster. As for the Bangalore Airport, I reckon  that’s probably a misnomer. It should be called “The International Airport that’s closest to Bangalore, but nowhere near the actual city itself”. Another meh.

This post was originally published on my blog, Thought Overflow | For poetry and more of my writing, check out my website at Gurdit.com.

Feed enhanced by Better Feed from Ozh

Last year’s Bombay was convenient, a short and passionate love affair. It involved a quiet walk early morning from the Wilson College hostel to the near-by Charni Road station (or a minimum fare taxi ride…and taxis weren’t difficult to find at all). Then, there was a 40 minute train ride which flew by as I listened to music off my mp3. And finally, just outside the Bandra station, I’d be picked up by the company’s shuttle service. In the evening, the shuttle would drop me at Bandra Station, leaving me once again in the company of my favourite musicians (that’s when I discovered the irresistible charms of Wolfmother) on the train while it turned dark outside. Finally, the walk from the Charni Road station to Wilson college—that was the highlight of the day…walking along the Marine Drive road, the sea-wind blowing in my face.

A view of the Marine Drive after dark, Mumbai

In those 2 months, I was surrounded by friends, had very good food thrice a day, and even better food during the weekends. The auto-rickshaw drivers were not snobbish, the trains were empty (I always travelled against the flow of traffic) and most importantly, it hadn’t started raining yet!

This year, though, it’s all going wrong. I’ve finally found a house, and I really like it. But that’s pretty much where the good news ends. I’m beginning to find the people here coarse and hard (especially compared to the exalted status we shared as XLers in Jamshedpur). The rickshaws almost never want to go the same place you do. And to cap it off…it rains here like God’s moody and pissed off.

Yesterday, I caught a glimpse of both Bombays. The plan was to go to Phoenix Mills to watch a play called Vagina Monologues. As soon as I left from home and got into a rickshaw (thankfully, they agreed to take me to Andheri station), it started pouring like hell. No surprise. Unhurt and dry, I made it to the station and got into the train, worrying about traffic jams, rains and stolen umbrellas. I was worried about being late. Thankfully, I wasn’t. The play was good. We shopped a bit as well.

Then it was time to go back.

I had to walk a bit on the bridge that leads to the Elphinstone Road station. But by now, it was dark and I whipped out my mp3 player. Joy. Walking under the wet night sky and the twinkling stars, I got to the station, waited a bit for the right train and got one within a couple of minutes. It was a little more crowded than the trains used to be last year, when I was returning home from Citibank. Yet, I found myself nostalgic and reminiscing about the empty trains, the walk back from Charni Road to Wilson College. I’d pass by the overrated milkshake/ ice-cream stand, the 10-rupee sweet-paan wala, the multi-flavoured kulfi stand. And then I’d get home to a tiny room shared with a batchmate, to an old bathroom where I’d wash my face, and then to dinner with friends.

I want to go back to that Bombay.

This post was originally published on my blog, Thought Overflow | For poetry and more of my writing, check out my website at Gurdit.com.

Feed enhanced by Better Feed from Ozh

I wish.

This is life:

I step out of the cab, still groggy from the ride. I take the elevator up two floors, swipe a card and enter a lifeless room. I barely notice the wood paneling and walk straight to the bed. I toss the laptop on it, then I toss myself. I take off my shoes, drink some water, walk around and come back to sit on the bed. I miss my speakers, I miss my music. I turn on the TV. I turn on the laptop. Today moves slowly forward. I wait for tomorrow. I fall asleep.

This post was originally published on my blog, Thought Overflow | For poetry and more of my writing, check out my website at Gurdit.com.

Feed enhanced by Better Feed from Ozh

I have a bit of flair for the dramatic; bear with me.

In about twenty-four hours, the plane will take off from the Rajiv Gandhi International Airport, Hyderabad, and land at the Chhatrapati Shivaji Airport in Bombay, where I’m going to start the first phase of my work life (not counting last year’s summer internship).

So far, it hasn’t sunk in. So far, professional life’s been a holiday, a romance called education. Go to school in the morning, come back in the afternoon. Go to college in the morning, come back in the evening. Go to post-grad college, come back home for the vacations. And now, finally…go to another city to work, and no idea when I’ll be back home again.

Not that it’s not been on my mind at all. It’s just mostly been about the trivial things. What kind of place will I find to live in? How much will I have to spend on furnishing the basics? HOLY COW! IS THE HOUSE RENT IN MUMBAI REALLY THAT HIGH?

But today, for the first time, my thoughts are more about “home” — the one I’m leaving behind and the one I’m going to make in the near future.

Home.

This post was originally published on my blog, Thought Overflow | For poetry and more of my writing, check out my website at Gurdit.com.

Feed enhanced by Better Feed from Ozh

• Day 1: Spent in Calcutta
• Days 2-5: Spent in Sikkim (Gangtok, Lachen and Lachung)
• Day 6: Back to XLRI

And now, the log:

Day 1:

Reached Calcutta without major incident. Took ferry across the river, saw the Howrah Bridge (beautiful). Went to Park Street, ate beef steak (really tasty) at shady place – “Olypub”. Walked around for a bit. Went to South City Mall. Watched a movie – Chronicles of Narnia in 3D (pretty good). Went for dinner to a Chinese place – “Kimli”. Got to station with plenty of time to spare. Slept.

Day 2:

Reached NJP (New Jalpaiguri). Started negotiating for cab and tour (to take us to Gangtok and beyond). After a lot of negotiating, talks break down. All travel agencies running a scam forcing tourists to take cab and packaged deal together. Finally found a cab driven by a total lunatic called “Anil Kapoor”. Drive to Gangtok mostly without incident. Ate raw Wai-Wai noodles on the way on Anupam’s recommendation. Reached Gangtok, checked into hotel – fairly comfortable. Shower and momos (veg and pork). Went to MG Marg – very pretty place. Bought gloves and a muffler (nice!). Dinner at Cafe Live & Loud – live band and free wifi! Bit of booze for everyone. Back to hotel. Sleep.

Day 3:

Woke up, showered, had breakfast, left for Lachen. Stopped at “Seven Sisters” Waterfalls. Gupta lost his shoe, almost. Met Mohsin, Rajiv and Sid (who was well-packed in warm clothes) (other XLers) at the falls. Stopped for lunch shortly after. Restarted journey and reached Lachen around 7 pm. Pretty cold. Had drinks to warm up. Ate dinner. Sleeping early to wake up early, have to leave at 3.30 am. Sleeping in MULTIPLE layers of clothing. Dinner and lunch were both sort of home-made-food-like. Good night.

Day 4:

Woke up hell early (3 am). Left for Gurudongmar Lake (Frozen Lake) at around 4. Pitch dark outside. Did not take Avomine. Spotted ice on the way on the side of the road. Got to a small village for breakfast. FREAKING COLD! Toes were between hellish pain and numbness. Breakfast was tea and soft, fresh bread. Bought second pair of gloves and thick socks. Restarted journey. Had a bit of an obstruction at slushy (icy) road. Gupta and Adwaith have a small military adventure. Finally reached lake. Height 17100 feet. Had gurudwara too. Thin air made breathing difficult. Felt sick and had headache all the way back. Got back to hotel, had a late lunch. Left for Lachung. Ride to Lachung mostly without incident. Reached hotel/guesthouse. Cute little rooms with wooden panelling. Scheduled to leave tomorrow again at 5.30 am. Today’s recurring theme: diesel exhaust fumes from vehicles all around us, all along the way.

Day 5:

Woke up early again to go to Yumthang Valley. Relatively short ride. Valley was beautiful. Area near the river VERY cold. Got sort of Adam-teased (:P). Had hot, soft bread with butter and marmalade (yum!) for breakfast. Plus Maggi. Started for Gangtok almost immediately after return from Yumthang. Ride to Gangtok rather uneventful. Back to same old hotel. Showered with very lukewarm water. Went out for shopping and had authentic Tibetan food for dinner. Was awesome (and heavy). Sleeping kinda early to wake early to go to Rumtek Monastery.

Day 6:

Woke early, got ready early. Went to Rumtek Monastery. Quite a pretty place, kinda peaceful. Lots of armed guards around. Others found it too commercialised. Had questionable breakfast – weird (but kinda tasty) cooked Wai-Wai and pretty horrible “chowmin”. Left for Gangtok immediately after. Faced couple of long traffic jams on the way. Reached NJP with couple of hours to spare. Had lunch at the station food court. “Teesta-Torsa Express” delayed by 45 mins already (NJP being second stop)! Finally, train arrived…got in, exchanged seats (all 7 of us in same coupe). Finally underway. Realised by nightfall that train is running about 2.5 hours late. Would miss Janshatabdi from Howrah to Jampot at this rate. Made a new plan. Get down at Bandel (2 stops before Sealdah, which was the actual destination). Take local to Howrah. Race against time to catch Janshatabdi from Howrah. Slept fitfully.

Day 6:

Woke up at 3.30 am to figure out train’s running pattern – approx 1.5 hours late. Decide to disembark at Bandel. Do so at around 4.50 am. Run to other platform to catch 5.09 am local to Howrah (scheduled to arrive at Howrah at 6.10 am). Our train (Janshatabdi) scheduled to depart from Howrah at 6.20 am. New plan: get off local at Howrah, run like madmen from the “old station” (for local trains, i.e. platforms 1-6) to “new station” (for out-of-city trains, i.e. platforms 16-22 or so), and somehow get into Janshatabdi before it leaves. Mentally prepared for the dash. Local train sort of running on schedule. Arrives outside Howrah station by 6.05 am. Everything going according to plan. Then…horror! Train gets red signal. Stands outside Howrah station for next 10 minutes. Finally pulls in to Howrah at 6.20 am on Platform 1. We realise Janshatabdi’s on Platform 21. Get off the train while impatient idiots are trying to get INTO the train. Run. Run. Run like madmen. Run like life depends on it. Run from platform 1 to platform 21 with luggage in hands. Run through crowded platforms. Run over narrow overbridges. Run into people, ram into luggage boxes, apologise, keep running, panting. Finally, out of breath, sweat-covered, reach platform 21 at 6.26 am. Heartbreak: no train on platform. Missed by 5 minutes. Recover. Get tickets and get into general compartment of Ispat Express. Leave Howrah at 7 am (scheduled departure: 6.55 am…just our luck: wrong train left 5 minutes late). Pile luggage against one of the doors. Sit on the floor, buy a book, have breakfast, pass time somehow. Finally reach Tatanagar (Jampot) at 10.40 am. Traffic jam outside station (some drivers = pure idiots). Reach XLRI (hallowed portals). Get out of auto, get into elevator. See sticker “137″ on the door. Home, sweet home.

* * *

Awesome trip. Thank you to Anupam Agarwal, Aditya Gadre, Aditya Gupta, Abhishek Joshi, Adwaith Naimpally and Soumya De for making this an awesome experience. Let’s do it again!

And to end the post, I’d just like to mention (like I have many, many times before) that I love my speakers.

This post was originally published on my blog, Thought Overflow | For poetry and more of my writing, check out my website at Gurdit.com.

Feed enhanced by Better Feed from Ozh

Gangtok, Sikkim.

According to schedule, we’ll be there on 6 December, in time for lunch. Sounds like fun, a hell of a lot of fun!

Also sounds intimidating, particularly when you see the following screenshot:

This may not look particularly scary, but in the morning when I checked, it was -7°C. And if that’s not intimidating enough, then have a look at the last few days’ observed Maximum and Minimum temperatures:

That’s -12°C (lowest temperature) for the last 3 days straight!

Sounds like it’s going to be one heck of a trip!

@Gadre, Gupta, Joshi, Anupam, Adwaith and Soumya: bring it on, yeah!

PS: Posted with permission from Ms G.

This post was originally published on my blog, Thought Overflow | For poetry and more of my writing, check out my website at Gurdit.com.

Feed enhanced by Better Feed from Ozh

Too many B-schools advocate “academic rigour”. A 30-hour contact course in XLRI supposedly requires 70 hours of work outside the classroom. We have 7.5 courses this term (one of them is a 4.5-credit course as opposed to an ordinary 3-credit course).

Contact hours = 225 (7.5 x 30)
Outside classroom work expected = 525 (7.5 x 70)

Total hours to be dedicated to coursework = 750 hours

750 hours = 31.25 days, if we work continuously without taking breaks for food, water or anything else.

The fourth term here is approximately 70 days in duration. Also, don’t forget all the extra-curricular work that is expected of us.

Thanks to your rigour, what suffers is quality. If we have to do a project that I would ideally have liked to dedicate a week to, but have to finish in one night, you know that there’s not going to be enough research, and it’s all just going to be information that’s available on the surface. Is this what we’re supposed to learn in MBA? The art of fluffing, of using jargon and stellar presentations to impress your audience and hope that no probing questions are asked?

This post was originally published on my blog, Thought Overflow | For poetry and more of my writing, check out my website at Gurdit.com.

Feed enhanced by Better Feed from Ozh