Key learnings from 1 year at K ( Part 1 )

People say CAT is a leveler, it’s a chance for redemption – Guys n gals from a multitude of backgrounds, irrespective of their UG degrees come together to get a management degree from one institute or other…But this is just the beginning; There’s an even more important n interesting extension to this line of thinking. That happens once u set foot in the campus after belling the CAT n cracking the interviews.

Based on my one year year experience at one of the premier management institutes in the country, to Ur fellow batch mates “You are not the 99.somethings u got in CAT, you are not the institute from where u took the UG, you are not the f****** job u did in Ur company, you r not the no of bullet pts in Ur CV, u r what you r n what you did during the one year in the institute” (Say it like Tyler Durden in fight club). But I do agree that all the above are crucial, n rightly so, when it comes to the all important P word. But what Ur batch mates think n what the companies think about might be entirely different. One day I would love to do an empirical study to prove this hypothesis.

The manner in which the entire course is structured (Residential program, numerous group assignments, presentations and projects) n the student culture (student driven committees n initiatives, hostel culture) makes it impossible not to form an opinion about anyone else in the batch. What makes this a leveler is the fact that the extent n degree of interaction is so high that u don’t rely on a guy’s/gal’s past to judge him/her.

Whatever a person’s past credentials are, however talented n interesting he is, if he doesn’t do his share of work in the campus, he’ll be labeled with the F word ( No No No … its not the F*** word , it’s the F*** R**** word ) n others won’t care a shit about him.

Students get the respect of batch mates due to a host of factors – CGPA, initiatives n volunteering tasks they undertake, their contribution to the committees n group projects, their infectious n lively spirits n many others. (No need to say, this shouldn’t come at the cost of being stamped as the F guy).The connecting thread is that all these are factors which rely on the present rather than the past.

I believe I don’t need to make u guys (at least the K guys) aware about the “popular yahoo group characters during our pre-joining days “n how they have fallen out of favor with the batch. If you are able to identify the masqueraders and pierce their veils, you will be able to recognize the power crazy visibility seeking people who try to attract attention, you will be able to identify people who tried to market themselves right from the word go on reaching the campus but couldn’t maintain their brand value. But if you think objectively, you will also realize that these are not the most respected ones in the campus, the respected ones are the ones who have done whatever is expected of them n more n have done them consistently throughout the year. They built their brand value slowly but steadily and with an impact, backed up by their actions. N i bet K is no exception and is just a representative of a bigger set.

So for the ones with a glorious past, its time to continue with the good work by coming up with its natural extension – a glorious present. For the ones with a not so glorious past, it’s time for redemption. For the ones who have made the impact in the first year, it’s the time to make a deeper and profound impact. And finally for the Free riders, it’s the time to shake of the tag which shouldn’t have been there in the first place. After all it’s a level playing ground……

Looking forward to the second year...

The vagabond in me.... (Conclusion – The Cochin leg)

I had an overwhelming sense of dejavu when I set my foot in Cochin. Four years in Cochin, I had seen it all…well, almost all. This leg of the trip was not only a travel across space, but also a travel back in time. This leg of the trip was not for the vagabond, this was more for me and the engg college days. On my way to Hotel Grand, in spite of the heavy rains, I couldn’t help peeping out of the rickshaw to check if all the familiar landmarks were there. On seeing Ceylon bake house, the memories of one of our tragic New Year celebrations came to my mind. I couldn’t help smiling…..Kuttan Chettan’s workshop was still a bike connoisseur’s paradise. Though I m not one, I remembered the first and last time I was on a Hayabusa n R1. I remembered the umpteen times I accompanied VJ to the workshop n was bored to death when we sat there, for what seemed like an eternity, seeing his Bullet transform into a Mini Harley.

Meeting a couple of close friends from the college, after quite a gap, was the main item on the agenda. May be it was destiny that Hotel Grand was chosen to be the meeting place for the time travel, for I inadvertently bumped into one of my school friends and travelled further back in time. It was an absolutely pleasant surprise to meet her in the most unexpected of circumstances. To add to the surprise, one of my juniors – the most gorgeous girl in our campus during those times – was also in the same place. The world is indeed a small place!!!

After finishing our customary quota from Grand, Gundachi, the Kochiites n I drove to Renaissance (This was not the vagabond’s trip…I was shuttling across star hotels!!!) to finish our customary quota with the Valakuzhys; one of the three day-scholar families which used to complement our hostel fraternity. We talked and drove the night away…

Instead of lying idly on the bed on the Sunday morning, I persuaded my friends, those who were not sloshed, in going for a breakfast buffet (Guys/Gals, a jog followed by a three course breakfast buffet from a nice hotel is the best start for any day, I swear… ). When I saw a lady, probably a middle level manager who was once an MBA grad, pulling out a lap top and working on it in the middle of the breakfast, I felt a little odd. The paradox is that I felt a little odd because I found it quite a normal thing to do…I realised how integral lappy had become to my MBA life. Probably I see the lappy more than I see my roomie.

We thought of going for “Shaapping” ( For the uninitiated, a “shaap” is a place where u get “toddy”, a local liquor and the best possible side dish or “touchings” as it is popularly known – exotic n original seafood like prawns, lobsters, mussels etc ) to our favourite Nettoor shaap, a shaap surrounded on three sides by backwaters. But unfortunately, because of the rains, we couldn’t.

After spending some more time in Cochin, I decided to board the general compartment of the inter-city express, back to Kozhikode it was. May be because I was travelling in a general compartment after a long time, may be I never used to bother before, may be I was ignorant…Anyway what I saw was once again ingenious marketing right before my eyes.

No wonder, Lalu is giving Gyan at premier management institutes!!!

As I re-entered the hallowed portals of K after a two day hiatus, like a convict back in the jail after a parole , I could see my classmates scurry like crazy to complete the numerous project submissions, assignments and quizzes lined up for the next day. I smiled at no one, shifted the wonderful memories of two days to the back of my mind, laid the vagabond to rest in peace for two weeks and prepared to become comfortably disoriented to merge with the K crowd and do another night out…….

The end.

The vagabond in me.... (Part 3 – The Trivandrum leg)

As the first rays of morning sun found its way thru the small opening in the closed curtains, and kissed my face ever so gently, I slowly opened my eyes ready to face a new day in a new place. I would’ve loved to wake up like that... Instead I woke up hearing somebody shouting “Trivandrum, Trivandrum...Sir, pls wake up its Trivandrum”. I jumped up hurriedly, put the lappy bag on my back, hung the main bag on the right shoulder, held the pullover in the left hand (strategically so that the IIMK tag was visible to all) and the water bottle in the right hand and alighted the already moving bus, remembering the great scientist Bernoulli when I jumped on to the ground.

After walking aimlessly for a while, sipping a coffee I bought from a nearby chai shop (In case u were wondering, I had put the water bottle in the bag so that I had one limb free), I found a nondescript hotel n decided to set my base there. When I paid the receptionist the advance, the fundas of marketing n branding which I soaked in during the 1st year danced before my eyes...(Just three months back I had booked a room in Goa for 5 days, for that amount of dough I could’ve stayed in this hotel for more than a month !!! ) .

I put on the formals (Remember, I had meetings with several media guys, though the vagabond wasn’t much interested in that) and hit the road. So there we were, a highly polished, fully dressed up MBA grad and a free spirited, I-don’t-care-a-shit vagabond, looking for a restaurant to fill the stomach. The conical shaped ghee-roast I ate n the Tanjore filter coffee I drank from restaurant Arya Nivas reminded me of the wonderfully authentic South-Indian breakfasts I used to savour at Murugans Idli shop n Saravana Bhavan in Chennai..(Chennai foodathons will be covered some other time ). The bus that was parked across the hotel attracted my attention. I had seen buses lying by the roadside, but this one looked as if it hadn’t moved an inch from that place for centuries. I wondered if the bushes u see in the picture actually grew from the ground or the tyres. The vagabond wanted to live inside the static caravan, like in the movie ‘Into the wild’, but I resisted.

Once again the Promotion P of marketing was glaringly visible in front of my eyes. Time wasn’t standing still for me to check out if this kinda promotion had any impact on the people. I had to make a move. Next couple of hours were spent teaing n snacking (read it like ‘wining n dining’!!!) in the homes of contacts from various media houses. The tagline of a restaurant named Azad hypnotised me to have lunch from there. It read something like “The restaurant which brought Biriyani to the Keralites 60 years ago”. I was pleasantly surprised to see the number of mush-blush-hush couples inside the restaurant. This was somewhat different from the Trivandrum I saw when we went there during college – a one day trip we remember as ‘Ambrosia trip’.

After hobnobbing with some more media guys for a couple of hours, I set aside two hours exclusively for the vagabond. We wandered aimlessly; picking up various DVDs, drinking ( some flavoured local drink) and eating from the road side “thattukadas” , watching the crowd n clicking snaps. In the evening I boarded the train to Cochin thinking how different the next 24 hours were going to be compared to the previous...

To be contd...

The vagabond in me...( Part 2 - The bus journey )

Before continuing further, lemme acknowledge my project team members for not persuading me to stay back considering the tasks lined up for the weekend.

So we were off...Though I had to do some hobnobbing with the media guys in TVM, the vagabond was adamant that he would get his fair share of fun. Volvo bus was the mode of transport we chose this time. The moment I stepped inside the Volvo, my eyes started searching for some familiar face. Don’t know how or y, during my frequent Chennai – Blore n Chennai – Cochin Volvo trips, more often than not I used to bump into some unexpected yet familiar face. As I settled down n did a proverbial stretching of the legs (couldn’t do an actual stretch as the seat was too cramped!!!), loud music started blaring out – a peppy Tamil no which reminded me of Chennai. If I thought the loudest sound in bus was the music, I was proved wrong. Suddenly out of nowhere, a thundering voice boomed “Why the #@$% are we delaying the departure? Gimme the reimbursement or else i ll file a case with the police “(of course, in mallu) . I resisted the urge to flaunt my Business Law knowledge n advise my dear friend “Mate, a better option would be to think of the consumer protection act” . Somehow the guy was pacified and finally the tyres started rolling.

As I started twisting and turning , trying to snuggle into the blanket , somebody decided not to let me sleep. A mallu movie was on. Over the course of time, i might have grown up the ranks to become a religious worshipper of Innaritu, Aronofsky , Christopher Nolan , Almodovar , Edward Norton , Gael Garcia bernal n the likes , but i m always game for a mallu movie. This movie was of the thriller genre with the hero introducing us to the world of “Manglish” language. (Some of the jargons i remember r visual amnesia, cyclopic eye wash). Finally after numerous twists and turns, which left the audience oohing and aahing – though i got the feeling that i ve seen this before – the final scenes were enacted in a courtroom, which reminded me of the fiery courtroom scenes in John Grisham and Perry Mason novels.

Finally at around 1 AM , with all the cacophony done with, i was all set to drift into a nice sleep filled with pleasant dreams........In that quasi-state in btw sleep and wakefulness , several thoughts slipped into n out of my mind. Against the normal flow of thoughts, i could sense and feel a bison charging at me...i couldn’t place it. But my senses and animalistic instincts were on the alert. Then i got it - It was not a thought, it was a reality – My neighbour had decided to do some nasal exercises at that odd time. I had two options – One was to “accidently” poke n jab at him, The second was to plug my ears with cotton (Having travelled quite a bit, i knew some of the ‘must carry’ items as far as i was concerned ‘ ). Realising how giant of a person he was compared to me, i chose the latter.

Finally after all those loud music, loud altercation btw the passenger n the crew, the loud n heated dialogues in the movie n the loud snoring of my neighbour i was off to sleep.......
“Trivandrum, Trivandrum...Sir , pls wake up it's Trivandrum”

To be contd

The vagabond in me...

I did it again...a two day absence from the campus during a so-called-hectic-weekend. Or rather, the vagabond part of the numerous identities that constitute me made me do it!!! I have this habit of running away from a city whenever its claustrophobic clasps - I know it's a strong expression to use - of the place begins to hug me tightly... It might be a hug out of love or a hug meant to disintegrate me to the elements that constitute me, but in any case I love the whiff of new air and the smell of a new place - a break from the normal.

I don't remember when the itinerant in me started forcing me to do it...Munnar n Aleppey used to be the favorite havens during college life. Mahabs n Pondy used to gimme a high when the mournful monotony of the tap-tapping on the keyboard got big on me. The vagabond got the time of his life when I quit Cognizant in Sep 2006 to aim for bigger things. I knew I had a six month break, I knew i wouldn't have to remain rooted at any place for the next six months atleast ( More abt the break later..That in itself is an eventful story)... The vagabond had the time, I had the money. Sometimes we drove bikes n cars, other times we took trains and flights...Sometimes we were alone, other times we had other schizophrenics accompanying us...Sometimes we set our base in shacks, other times we stayed in elite hotels...Sometimes we were sloshed, other times we were sober...

We ran from one place to another, flirting with the cities, towns and villages - forming unforgettable relationships but never letting them blossom into commitments. Finally we had to stop. I was on my way to achieve bigger targets i had set for myself. Slowly 'We' started dissolving into 'I' and 'I' became busy with numerous other activities - many by choice, many by force. The vagabond went into a slumber. Though i drove bikes n cars, traveled in trains n buses, i knew it was not the vagabond who accompanied me...rather it was the zombie. I yearned for the vagabond to be back.

The high spirits and the emotional crests i experienced ( More about digital binary emotions later...) made sure that the vagabond was back...I was sure this was the vagabond and not the zombie...We looked at each other..we knew we had two days...we ran away from the campus...we ran...

To be contd

Impression management.

What got me thinking was when someone asked me “Dude, tell me in one word what MBA is all about? What is that you guys are going to manage? “. The jargonizer in me, who has become an integral part of my identity after i came to K, was suddenly on the alert. Nothing quirky or out of the box came out initially...all i could think was “MBA is about time management “ ...Come on...Any school kid can give a better answer than that. “ MBA is all about resource and strategy management”...It’s getting better, but still i felt something was missing....Suddenly it struck me, “ MBA is nothing but impression management” – ‘IMPRESSION MANAGEMENT’ , two words jargonizingly juxtaposed along side each other yet somehow making some (un)common sense. [Look at the sentence, a jargonizer’s delight ].

You must be thinking ‘What the hell is this impression management???' .Though bordering on cautious optimism, i m sure that it’s already created an impression. MBA is all about learning ‘common sense’ in an uncommon way and ‘commonizing uncommon sense’. But that’s just a small part of it, ultimately it comes down to the way u carry urself, the impression u create, the image u project. This is what impression management is all about – ‘Controlling and managing the impression that others form of you’.

Why do u need Impression management? Unless you carry urself well, all the commonized uncommon sense and the uncommonized common sense you prophesize, the jargon bombs u hurl at people will have no earth-shattering impact you want it to create. People will construe them as the ramblings of a mad man. MBA equip you to be the ‘impressiono uno’ while giving a presentation ( even if u don’t know if the ppt is written in English or some other language ) , while attending a placement interview ( even if u aren’t aware if the company is a marketing or a fin one ) , while attending meetings with honchos ( even if u can’t make sense of what’s the topic of discussion ).

Dramaturgical perspective argues that human behaviour and actions are not isolated whole, rather it is a theatrical performance dependent upon place, time and audience. Thru impression management one becomes more aligned to the dramaturgical perspective, ready to tackle any situation, tweaking the behaviour to suit the needs n making people see the halo around you, a halo which might or might not be existent....

Lemme start painting...

Finally i have managed to get rid of my inertia - I have my bum rooted onto a chair and i m writing a blog. Procrastination has been my middle name for quite sometime ( I m sure its not mine alone!!!) bcos i believe in the statement " Work expands to fill the time, so it's better to reduce the time to reduce the work". More often than not it has worked for me, but of late i've come to realise that I've lost several things i craved for, missed opportunities that stared at me bcos of inaction or postponement. Also, procrastination works only when there's a time limit, if not we might end up not doing what we ought to have done.

It's this enlightenment and the new found wisdom that has forced me to move to the chair - in front of the comp - like a zombie and make some random key strokes on the keyboard...Random key strokes which are nothing more than some random brush strokes on a blank canvas...Hope these randomly typed letters form some recognizable words which will stick to each other forming coherent sentences, and these meaningful sentences flow smoothly from one to another - the reasoned and rational whole producing worthwhile sensations and emotions in the minds of the readers and the writer........