Milady- The Mind’s Malady

I couldn’t help it to not
But to think about those sweet memories
That lay afresh in the mind
Kindling the pyre of the forsaken destiny
Watching with awe as you stepped in front
The way the braided plaits swayed
As you took those gorgeous footsteps
In a world appeasing demeanour
As the name of the damsel was called
She approached the stage for a moment
A moment that shook my world
And swept me across my feet
Like the circuitry wired to synchronize an output
My heart had infused the thoughts of you in me
The output was perfect with the cupid bow
Ready to strike out a chord in harmony
 Seeing you in the bus every evening,
Letting myself to stay rooted
In close vicinity to see the swaying of the hair
When the breeze kisses it in all its glory
The eyes that behold the charm
Casting a spell so enchanting
Wooing off anyone, god or mortal
Wonderstruck with thy beauty,
Being a mortal, insanely human,
Became I, a slave to the most divine proposition
Of the 3 worlds
You, milady, the lady of the dreams
Living in someone else’s heart!

The Roadside Melodrama

Engaged in a race that often leaves your life dangling by the edge of a thread is what the roads of Chennai have to offer. 

The roads winds and unwinds into a peculiar myriad of tarred blackness, so intangibly intertwined into the facets of hope and despair in all its plight. The routine of driving by the roads in moments of incessant crowding is sure to have you crave for the orgasmic pleasure of adrenaline rushing.

Motorists emerging out of nowhere, from pocket roads, from the blind spot of your ORVM or from God knows where, with just one motto in their mind, body and soul- show the utmost despise to make your day pathetically remorseful for having had the thought of taking your car out of the garage. 

Well, Chennai roads have a lot of lessons to offer. The patience that is upheld when the bikers ram into the teeny weeny gaps between the cars, the self control while ramming the brakes while someone pops into the road from somewhere and the nonchalant face while autowallahs jeer on the face.

Priceless indeed! 

The raging mobbing of the traffic comes to a halt at the red signal where hawkers and beggars throng onto the windshield of the car to get their business done. 

Beggars with sunken paleness and grief stricken eyes knock on the window glass for some change. As you spare a thought to spare some change, you would see contempt on their faces as the expectation from you rises as you graduate from a bike to a car to a bigger car. If the size of the coin is too small, the curses muttered under the breath would bestow upon you and your 9 generations, sinister afterlives in hell. 

Hawkers and peddlers of wares set in their sales pitch. An acceptance means you are poorer by 50 rupees and you now own a thing that is only priced at 20rs even at the biggie store. A denial from your side is surely to set you back atleast by a grand- the hawker’s frustration is often blurted out as scratching with something on the metallic surface of the vehicle’s body.   

Surviving all these would tire you more than your day at office! 


And a month later!

What to say? Where to start?

I have been quite out of touch since my fingers were smothering the touch of the keyboard for other purposes. (FYI, no puns intended!)

It has been busy for most of us. Marriages, jobs, travel etc etc has been on the cards. 

As we crossed the gates of the college, we were pretty happy on the thought that we are now going to a world of independence, a world that was not going to hold us back because we did not have gate passes.

Well, we were given our ticket to independence, with a little or no premonition that we had just entered the world of voluntary slavery. 

Just look back at what we had and what we did. 
Life by the lakes was a breeze, that sometimes had a frost bite, but easily manageable. 

Assignment submissions could have been at will. You could just copy some crap off the internet and submit it. What could happen at the maximum? The plus sign in the letter grade could be taken off or maybe take the vertical bar off it to make it a minus. Barely mattered. Plus, you had a week to submit the paper. 

The boss at office would come and ask you to do that same amount of work and submit it before you leave that same day. 

It is usually one or two assignments per subject. The office usually has the next work ready in line to start off with, as you just finish off with the one. One after the other, you would be doing whatever assigned to you, just as the genie who was uncorked.

You were happily on proxy in class. Clock that bloody, boring and tiringly long 8 and a half hours in office or else the lost hours would reflect as lost hundreds on your salary. No fool’s play. No goofing around. Business is business, pal.

We thought that money was going to come in big numbers. No more asking parents for money. Not answerable to anyone.

We are paying through our noses.

The internet in campus. High speed and unlimited. Now as we want to download that awesome IMDB 8.0 rated movie, we just go to the internet account page, check the balance, plot a mental graph that if the movie download would make you off the wire during the last 2 days of the month. 

ACs were on round the clock in the hostel rooms. Just try that at your new place. Better do it after giving the bank, instructions to credit the whole month’s salary in the EB’s account. 

Life, huh? 

Did you just realize that in a couple of years, almost all of us would heard the chime of the wedding bells? Did you just realize that getting married means hell lot of responsibility? Check it out with the friend who just got married last week. Future reference can be taken from the guy who is getting engaged this week. 

We are getting responsible. For our own actions.


Brace yourself, LIFE is approaching in full force.

Attye peace!

The Farewell Trance

I was overwhelmed. I was on the verge of being in tears. 

And the same is applicable to the remaining 120 people too. 

And you, Pallavas, you did a great job. Joining up as a team, putting in your hard work and dedication to bid adieu. Amidst the work pressure put forth by the professors, you rescheduled your days and nights to give us the space. 

As we exit, we are sure, the 2 year course that started off with us as exemplars, will be taken to greater heights. 

The retreat at Ideal Beach Resort was worth its weight in gold. The ambience, the programs planned, the menus set, everything deserves an applause. 

A dinner would have sufficed, and maybe top it up with some impromptu act that any one could have pulled up- that would have made a decent farewell. But you stepped it up by a giant leap, burning midnight oil and sipping cups of coffees to devise plans, to give us a farewell, befitting the most luckiest seniors. 

I have to thank you all, on behalf of the batch for the pomp and splendor you infused in the act of camaraderie. 

Ambi and Sudarshan, you guys were awesome as the hosts on stage. 

The girl who sang the Rock On song, 
I shall call you thee
For I do know thy name is Ridhima
You swept a wave of bliss across the hearts

Kaushal and Siddharth, you two, too put up a great show!!! Timings, man!! Respect!!

The Video team, the coordination team, the ‘this’ team, the ‘that’ team, the whole team… 
The Farewell video left us spellbound. The hard work behind this deserves mention. 
Who else, other than you could think of giving us a souvenir of the most cherished picture of the 2 years, framed and wrapped to cherish the memories!!!
I have no words to say,
You have won a place in the heart to stay
Loved your efforts
Love you all

Enough of being nice, 
I shall cast off the garb 
And pull a leg of the Mamalla
Or maybe two!!

We taught them to be awesome. They taught us what awesomeness was.

Anyways, Mamallas, here you go!

The winners of the Wall of Fame- the acts that you did on stage were awesome. But what took you there were the acts in the 2 years. Those were more awesome, I should say. 

Mr Vikas ‘Pole Dance’ Sharma, you taught the world what seduction meant. Did you know that you gave the strippers a run for their money??

Srini Mama, you were awesome as always. Do you have pins and needles under your toe? Drenched that little Ambi and danced when not needed. 

The roommates actually forgot the whole thing called pole dance. I know you people are rigid as the pole should be, and hence swayed the sh!t out of it (him)

Varun and Nambi, you did set the floor on fire!! 

The food needs mention. It was amazing. I remember seeing people seen as excited as a 5 year old in a candy shop, on seeing the well laid-out sumptuous spread.   

We had fun. Loads and loads. 

Dear Pallavas, 
You etched memories of a lifetime. 
You carved out  a slice of our world as we part
You did everything you could 
And gratitude with which we say,
We love you all!!!

The End is the New Beginning

The journey has been a roller coaster ride. 2 years of management education has made us wiser, I believe, if not by the volumes of education tried to shove up the brain, but by the life learnings.

It was not easy, coping with the pressure, burning midnight oil and what not. But we did it.

The assignment deadlines, persistent nagging by friends to send them your assignments, hunting down Scribd and Slideshare to get a teeny-weeny bit of your submission material, checking all the plagiarism checker sites known to mankind and finding that most of your hard work is the exact duplication of the public domain and screwing the remaining part of the night redoing the work using the right-click-synonym magic on MS Word were attempts to err the freshly baked engineer’s life in the first term of MBA.

The classes were happening over and over, day and night. From the wee hours till past midnight. Then starts assignments of various sorts. The first term had marketing cases over cases with emerging markets flying over the head. Financial accounting was never ever willing to tally the balance sheet of life. 

Well, rephrasing became child’s play when we were one term old. Then came the tensions of choosing electives and empirical studies. Not to add to the woes, finance became the back crunching exercise as we graduated from Accounting to Financial Management. The guys who were keen on pursuing CFA went to bow down to the world of operations management. 

The classes were tedious beyond the core as the count of the number of subjects crossed the hand and reached the toes. The teachers were persistent on our dedication in their subject and were overloading us with work as if that was the only subject to study. As the sections were shuffled each term, we actually had chances to mingle with more and more people. 

Before we knew what happened, 2 terms were over. Then came internship interviews and the 3rd term. We were a bunch of scapegoats in the brand mayhem caught up to strive for life in the raging sea. We were running behind internships while the classification that we had was to ensure us a paid internship that would leave behind savings post the expenses and booze charges. We dint. And an internship was an internship and we needed to have it. Time flew and we flew to different parts of the country and some went beyond the boundaries. It was a hectic task of getting up in the morning and going to office and submitting reports and actually working. 

Once we were back, life went on to reverse gear. The number of classes per day had fallen drastically and we actually had free time. And then we began to learn to be lazy. It was just less than a year ago, we had just unlearned the thing.

The second year actually was a year that split friends. You hardly had a chance to sit in class with your friends in class. When you attended service marketing, he would be sitting and gazing at the FRM teacher. The intrigued attention that was paid in class for some subjects were pretty much compensated for the lax in the others.  

The terms passed by, and we are here. Almost ready to be shown to the gate and to leave.

We hated the place. We hated the teachers, we hated the buildings, we hated the classrooms that made us claustrophobic, but we never hated the people whom we called friends. 

But now as we turn back into the way that leads us down the memory lane, we would know that, it was just the turn of events that made us hate them. It is just a matter of time that we would understand that how they meant to us. 

On a retrospective note as we leave, we are leaving a life that shall never return. We are leaving a life that we actually lived. We loved, we fought, we waged wars, we had indifferences and we patched it all up in a jiffy.

We loved the drooping eyelids and the happiness that brimmed in the mind as we ate a hearty meal (pun intended!) and went to the hostel for the great afternoon siesta. The crashing on the bed and letting go of all emotions are going to be a distant memory reserved for a Sunday.

We all loved copying our assignments. We loved to ask teachers for extensions. We loved the butterfly flutter in the tummy as we were midway through our assignment when the clock showed 1130pm (submission at midnight). We loved the panicking as we would go room to room, get hold of a few assignments, copy paste it and submit for the sake of it. Post college, you won’t be even able to do that even if you own the company.

I intentionally forgot about the most interesting part of the life here- proxies. The moment you queued up in the ‘other’ entrance to class, asked the people who sat in class to form a barricade while you could punch in, so that the teacher would not catch a glimpse of you and run away to avoid the teacher’s eye- shall be a memory often thought with a grin and a tear at the edge of the eye. 

The midnight munchings and the walk with the chilly wind blowing to send chills up the spines would be missed. The coffees at past one at Bistro and the bland sandwiches from CCD after shouting our larynx out to wake the guy shall be missed. All has been a part and parcel of our life.

We loved to huddle up in someone’s room and make plans. 

The bike rides to Mayajaal, the shared autos to Mahabalipuram, the beaches, the sun, the lovely chaats and ghee roasts of A2B, the restaurants of the temple town, the life- you shall be remembered. 

The crushes, the love, the break ups, the pals and gals- you too shall be missed.

As we gear up for life, we will get to know that the past was heaven. 

Everyone shall be missed! This life shall be missed!

Attye Peace!




Let the Dreams Assume Wings!

I have a dream.

We all have dreams.

Are we chasing them?

Yes, we are.

Look from within, conduct a retrospective study, knock on the guts, ask your inners and from deep inside you will listen to an entity called your conscience.

It will, with all due respect, tell you that you aren’t, knocking over your nuts.

You wanted to be a sky diving instructor, yet you became a glassware salesman just because of the bizarre and freak accident that was covered on TV.

You wanted to drive cross country on that Harley cruiser with your friend, but didn’t, because your neighbour fell off a bike and lost his front teeth. He fixed it all right.

When Martin Luther King Jr. had this thing called a dream, he meant it. He wanted the Blacks to be treated in par with the Whites. When he dreamt it, he meant it.

When we dream of something, do we actually mean it?

We aspire to be something.

We can if we want.

There are some hapless souls in this world who want to be treated as humans. But we fail to do so. If I may, it is about the differently abled souls. The people who are born with genetic disorders, who fail to cope up with the challenges of life, who are called the mistakes of God, also have the right to dream.

What do we do to them?

Do we allow their dreams to take wings and escape beyond? We treat them as diseased, untouchable and uncouth. Was it their mistake to be born, to be born in this manner? They are left to fate. Left to bleed out while we try to pursue our long lost and forgotten dreams, many a times in vain.

How do we talk to a person who doesn’t know much English? We break and pause and hum and put all the sounds between the words so that they have enough time to register the words, transmit them to their brains, translate to their mother tongue, understand, think of the reply in their mother tongue, translate and reply back in English.

Have we ever thought of helping people out by showing care, compassion and courtesy? Have we? No one cares a damn about the normal humans. Everyone is carefully secluded in their comfort zone. If they don’t retaliate to the oncoming fire, they are the cusp of getting run over or hit or whatever damage that may befall.

By layman’s point of view, aren’t we all differently abled? We all possess different talents and an uncanny ability to mask our disabilities. Yet we discriminate the real souls who fail to dream big. 

Dream big and help other to realize something.

It matters, after all.

From the Memoirs- 2

Who started the Facebook group?

I don’t know.

But who ever did that did a wonderful job of creating and cementing relations. 

As we crossed the gates of Great Lakes, we were not going into an exodus of random people. Instead we were seeing live versions of the photos we had seen and stalked. We knew people, we knew that they were our friends.

The virtual friends got down into the physical space of their bodily existence and then began a saga of a journey called MBA.

We danced, crawled on our knees, learned salsa and let go off our inhibitions.
We learned eating food at the stipulated times. Sloshing sambar onto their plates were the roti clan. The sadam clan relished their breakfast with aloo parathas with melting makhan on top of it.

We learned to adjust. We learned to live. We learned life. 

We made friends. And as they say, we earned some friends too. 

Life was never made easy. But with friends, we just could get going. 

The first term was always difficult. To get us into the spirit and hectic spree of MBA, it took time. The engineering guys who hardly took any time off their schedule to study were actually glued to their books. The comm/arts/science guys who barely attended classes back there, were in the classes, actually listening to the Profs. with their eyes, ears and brain open. (How good a liar am I?)

From bath attached rooms, we graduated to common bathrooms and queuing to finish off the business. We brushed and talked at the same time. Our roomies doubled up as alarm clocks, always ensuring that we went to the 8 am classes. 

As one term went by, we went home and but were eager to be back with our Wolfpack.  

The goodies from the homes were shared, We ate khakras and banana chips side by side. We munched on the namkeens and devoured the pedas and rosgullas. We savored ethnicity. We understood the nation’s palette. 

We were the future of India nestling the souls from different parts of the country, yet kindling the soul. Well, that was a bit of context.

Thats for now, and more to follow. 

From the Memoirs-1

Well, 2 years before today, we all were sitting on the couches squatting flies with our CAT score card and gleaming at a seemingly bleak future that lay ahead. Some of us had dropped a year to bell the feline beauty of the Felis family. Most of them were either on the verge of getting their celebrated pink slip or being cracked open by insanity, thanks to harm done to the mankind by coding.   

As our thoughts resurfaced, we understood the plights we were going through.We were distraught with our wallets gone lighter by the day. We seemed to know the post office guy by his first name because of the sheer number of envelopes we’ve posted (to B-schools of course) Those who were bad in remembering numbers knew their credit card number by heart as they keyed it in numerous time a day.

And then were days of preparing for GD/PI process, booking tickets to travel around the country not only for the process, but also to explore the vastness and diversity the nation had to offer.
The GD/PI process brought in copious amounts of mind numbing and stressed moments. As the B-schools started issuing offer letters, those lucky ones were running helter-skelter to get opinions about their calls.

The selection was followed by queuing up in front of your bank manager for a loan. No ‘yeh’ form, run back to home and get it. No ‘woh’ form, run back to the municipal office, bribe the clerk and get it signed by the officer. Seeing the prospect that you would be a big shot and pay up the loan in no time or the possibility that he could be reporting to you in the future, the loan was approved despite making you run.

Great Lakes, yew… Is there a b-school like that?

Great Lakes…. aww…. Nice name? Where is it?

Great Lakes…. Omg! You got through Great Lakes… Well, no one said that!

Well, Great Lakes, hell yeah. Here we are! 

Movie Review- Jilla

Jilla explored the hearts of the masses only to excavate high hope-dipped disappointment.

With 2 stalwarts adorning the crest of the movie, the story should have been crafted for sheer exuberance of talent. Jilla depicted how talent of the Indian pinnacle of acting, Mohanlal was wasted to its core.

With too many songs and many uninteresting sequences, the movie undertakes a vicious cycle of events, a never ending loop of unnecessary stuff.

Illayathalapathy Vijay was impressive with his charming smile but nothing out of the world. His acting seemed just way too common, the mass masala flavored one. His timing and flair for comedy has deteriorated over the years. Neason’s attempt to portray the policeman Vijay was nothing but sheer mockery for the whole police force. With the transformation to show what a police officer ought to be, Vijay’s mannerisms shows how a police officer should not be sans the sanctity of his mission.

Smoking and abusing was what Mohanlal’s role confined to. Portrayed as a don, Mohanlal’s Shiva would have opened doors of classic acting to Tail cinema, had the script had a better yielding character for him. A clear deviation from the Georgekuttys of the world, the paradigm shift of Lalettan from Dhrishyam to Jilla calls for utter disappointment for him to have chosen the script.

Kajal Agarwal was pretty on screen showing less skin and more khakhi. Merely used as a pretty prop to extend the duration of the movie, she was either seen making faces to Vijay or sporting that smile.

Of the other actors who shared screen space with the trio, antagonist Sampath steals the show with a small but effective portray of ruthlessness. Soori was cracking witty remarks that failed to induce nothing more than a curve of lips.

Direction, editing, songs etc. etc. has nothing to boast about. Too many songs spoiled the mood as the movie, if devoid of its extensions could have well be curtailed the movie to less than 150 minutes.

Verdict: A mass masala movie for Vijay fans. Expect nothing during the 182 minutes inside the theatre- then its Paisa Vasool.

Rating: 2/5