Weekdays 15th - 19th April - VJ, Bade Miyan n the usual office routine..

The rest of the week followed the predictable routine. Wakeup – Workout – Egg fast – (No) Work at office – Dinner experimentation – Catching up with old friends. The VJ alias Vijay, aka roll no 88, aka the 40% contributor to the B-Tech degree had come down to Mumbai. The Piyush khan, aka roll no 89, aka the 60% contributor to the B-Tech degree decided to meet up with him. (I know this might sound nonsense to many, without the context being properly laid out). As usual, the dude ( The word has lost its charm nowadays with even the most ordinary and boring of persons addressing each other ‘ dood ‘ . The word means “A kind of dandy; especially, one characterized by an ultrafashionable style of dress and other affectations.”) – yes this guy was a real dude, dooder than the coen brothers’ dude Lebowski – oozed class n elegance, coming in a Land cruiser with his mate from Air India.

Next hour or so was spent inside Gokul, a resto-bar, when we travelled back in time n regaled (or bored I m not sure) the great pilot from Air India with our engineering exploits. We chose the place because it reminded us of one of our favourite hangouts back in Cochin. The value for money provided by Gokul was amazing – decent ambience, 3 Rotis n Chicken Tikka fry, 3 pitchers, all this for 570 bucks. Certainly a niche one in Colaba, amidst the Leopolds n Mondegars.

Bade Miyan, on the other hand was the most upscale “thattudkada” (road side restaurant) I ve ever been to.

It has a very diverse clientele coming from various parts of Mumbai, people from all strata of the society. I could witness the bonnet of the cars multi-purposing as dining tables. I could also see a version of “ Brand Casting” in action. The quality of service offered was directly proportional to the brand of the vehicle in which the person drove in. Luckily we had a land cruiser…

I could finally decide on my top 3 thattukada dishes after the dinner. In no particular order they are:

· Quail Egg curry from a thattukada near my home
· Bheja fry from Bade Miyan, Mumbai
· Dosa + Chicken fry from Rappai’s , Cochin

Another of the weekdays was spent with VJ, Neha and Praveen at Phonex Mill shopping mall, which ended with a dinner savouring some delicious Marathi dishes , at the same time eating one of the worst squid dishes I ve ever had. This was one of the rare occasions when the experimentation by the food junkie turned out to be a failure. But this won’t deter me, After all exploring the unknown is the only way to know the unknown and redefine the horizons of unknown and unchartered territory….

In between all this, 10 AM to 6 PM everyday was being utilised (questionable..Still I ll stick to it) to hone the skills required to survive in the corporate world that’ll unquestionably become intertwined with my life in the near future.

Monday 14th April - Haji Ali n Leopold

After having a sumptuous meal ( as usual ) which included the usual share of some exotic dishes, we set out for Haji Ali, a dargah built in the middle of the sea, which can be reached by a 500 m narrow cause way which is negotiable only during low tide. Walkathon being the theme of the day, this 500m walk was preceded by a 2 km stroll. In addition to the usual “smell of Mumbai breeze” , we could also observe the rubbish dumped on the seaside. The smell and the sight together made it disgusting and nauseating.

But the ambience changed once we reached the beginning of the pathway. Hundreds of devout devotees, crowd thronging to shops on either side of the beginning of the passageway n the kind of music which was being played gave me a feeling that was quite unique in its own way. I m not someone who can be considered a theist, but I am always fascinated by the atmosphere prevalent in and near a religious place.

As we continued our walk, we realised that we were dressed differently ( I wont say inappropriately ) for the place. Seeing the covered head of all the ladies, seemingly sane girl made a note of adding a shall or a veil to the already large number of items present in her handbag. No, no, no…I m not cheap enough to look inside a lady’s handbag. During the course of our journey, for more than a couple of times whenever we needed some essential item like fevikwik, stapler etc etc, this seemingly sane lady played the conjurer, pulling stuff out of her bag with a dexterity that made us believe that seemingly sane girl had all the seemingly useless (or should we call it useful) stuff in her bag.

The courtyard in front of the mausoleum was thronging with people, people who were soaking in the atmosphere, people who were relaxing after the physically n mentally exhausting journey, people like me who came just to get the feel of the things n the numerous ones waiting to have a glimpse of the casket which was draped with flowers n colourful banners.

Seemingly Sane Girl n Smiling Budha decided to call it a day after the Haji Ali visit, while ABC n the lazy bum decided to check out Leopold of Shantaram fame. Spending a Vishu at Leopold, could it get crazier than that ? May be the book had given the place a cult status, but I felt the place was straight out of the book, teeming with such an eclectic crowd separated by no barriers that the utter disrespect I feel for the human created barriers came to the surface with its full force. Laws n regulations are necessary for a society to function. But the human created barriers and societal norms are just to protect and encourage mediocrity, to make the insecure feel secure in a make-believe world.

I had seen it in the movies, but i was seeing the 3-feet pitcher for the first time in real life.

The day ended with one of those usual bouts of “book buyathons” which I occasionally suffer from and the discovery of that Lee showroom I was searching for over three days. When jockey started becoming the pulsar among the undies, I ditched it. Just like I ditched an IT career when all ram, shyam n gopu started coding. Now the question remains when I ll ditch my pulsar n when I ll feel that there are too many management graduates inhabiting this world….. I m not that brand-crazy metro sexual dude who doesn’t know y he wants a particular brand. Then u might be wondering why I wear branded clothes more often than not. I am so fascinated by the power of branding that I wanna celebrate it and feel a part of it n respect the ingenuity n craziness of the branders. I know it sounds crazy, but cant help it……

Monday 14th April - The Eggfast, The Scientific Museum n The French Kiss

It was Vishu – The Kerala New Year – n the only ‘Vishuish’ thing the lazy bum did was calling up my family n relatives. It was also Ambekar Jayanti, a holiday here. The day began just like another day in Mumbai, with a jog down the marine drive. Yes, the lazy bum was slowly getting into a routine. The beauty of being crazy or the obsession for being systematic can be fully comprehended only when there’s a method in madness. In the city of organized chaos, I was discovering a method in madness.

Smiling Buddha n the Lazy bum called up the Seemingly Sane girl from the sleep n decided to meet up at Café NewYork for breakfast. Seeming sane girl, who prefers watching a sunset over sunrise any day, was late. The lazy bum hates calling up a person from sleep. You feel guilty, always doubting if you intruded into his/her bedroom n beautiful dreams. Even the person u called will feel obliged to wake up n honour the commitment (if any) just because he/she already committed. It helps nobody.

The breakfast was my usual eggfast along with the baked beans. I don’t think I can love n hate a food item to an extent more than I do love n hate egg. The mere sight of the baked beans brought back memories of the famous ‘baked beans joke’ n I couldn’t help but smile.

After finishing the breakfast, we chalked out the plans for the day, The Seemingly Sane Girl was reading the map, the Smiling Buddha was listening. I thought - To hell with Allen n Barbara Pease, the authors of “Why men don’t listen and Women can’t read maps”.

Not in my weirdest dreams I would ve thought I would visit a scientific park in Mumbai. But that was our plan for the hot n humid morning– Revise n learn the basic fundas we learned or didn’t care to learn in the school days !!! As we got down from the famous Mumbai local train at the Mahalakshmi station and moved towards our destination, we could get a quick glimpse of the “ Dhobi Ghaat” – Where the dhobis wash away the dirt from the clothes , so that people could start the next day afresh having purged themselves of the sins performed the previous day.

Even if I had imagined in my weirdest dreams I would visit the scientific park , I would never have imagined I would enact a French kiss in Mumbai in a scientific park, with a complete stranger, somebody who i was seeing for the first time , somebody who was taller than me , in such a weird position, amidst the presence of lots of peering eyes, Smiling Budha n Seemingly Sane girl's among them. I thought - What the F***, i had to do it - N the Seemingly Sane girl, ever so sane, captured it in frames.

By around noon, it was time for us to welcome another of our friends from K. There’s this common explanation by people whose name begin with ‘A’ that the name is so because they wanted to be first in everything ( as A is the first alphabet) . If we have to go with this explanation, this friend of ours wanted to be first, second n third in everything. ABC had caught a rick, jumped on to a bus, then to a train n finally a cab to meet us...

Sunday 13th April - The weird accident!!!

The four of us, minus the honorary members of the gang, hopped on to a cab (there r no ricks in this part of the Mumbai, there’s a theory doing the rounds that the big shots in this place don’t like to c ricks on the road , not sure how much truth is there in this ) n the lazy bum said to the driver in his mallu accented hindi “ bhaiyya, gateway jaana hai”.

Though it was well past the sunset, we hoped to see the ‘quintessential gateway picture/video’ of the hundreds of pigeons – some perching, some abt to fly - live before our eyes. Unfortunately it remained a picture as the pigeons chose to remain away from the thousands of staring human eyes, but we hope sometime during the next two months, we will b able to enjoy the view. After all, hope n trust r two things we have to believe in.

The Gateway of India, which was built to welcome a queen ( I don’t remember the name), didn’t stand in its almighty glory that day, for half of it was being operated upon to treat the wounds inflicted upon it during the passage of time. It used to be the first structure u c when u come to Mumbai on ship. The boat ride on offer was a perfect invitation for us to get away from the maddening yet interesting crowd we encountered for the past few days n we were in no mood to resist it. We climbed up the almost-vertical-n-bloody-narrow-stairs, n staggering n swaying in tune with the rocking steamer, looked for a place to settle down. Being the gentlemen we were, the three of us sat on some not-so-bad-bum-placable-seats allowing the Seemingly Sane girl to occupy the last free chair on the roof. As the boat sped away, we turned back to get an alternate view of the Gateway. We realised that Gateway was not the sight to behold, rather it was dwarfed by the beautifully lit up old Taj n the new Taj standing alongside each other. Lazy bum was giving some needless bullshit to others about Elephanta suite, a room in Taj, when it happened - CRAAASSSSHHHH!!!!! WREEEECCCCKKKK!!!!

For a moment we thought we had crashed into an (tip of) iceberg. Not so happy scenes from the movie Titanic played out in the minds of the people. The singers in the boat tried to form a band so that they cold sing the requiem. The lovers believed that their story would become the next biggest Hollywood blockbuster. The calm n smiling Budha lost his calmness for a split-second. The Don wanted to take that last photograph which would be worth millions when the scuba divers find it amidst the last remains of the capsized boat. The lazy bum was thinking about the eventful post he would write in his blog if he ever got out of it alive. The seemingly sane girl started to act insanely, even posing for a couple of photos with her specs on!!!

Then realization set in. The boat was not going to capsize. It had not hit any iceberg. We had just been involved in one of the weirdest possible accidents. Wasn’t it ironical that after travelling in the crowded local trains, travelling with the crazy taxi drivers, the first ( n hopefully only) accident we were involved was a steamer colliding with another steamer in the middle of nowhere, where the “traffic” was almost negligible !!!!

The rest of the boat ride was spent debating on where the opening to the sea was, recalling the good old days when we used to read Enid Blyton’s, Hardy boys etc (The sight of a buoy reminded urs truly of one of the Hardy boys’ in which Joe Hardy clings on to a buoy to pull off a miraculous escape).

As we were walking along the promenade, contemplating where to fill our stomachs n with what, Smiling Budha lost all his calmness n started screaming out animatedly “Wat is out there? Is it a dance, is it a bar, no…..it’s a dance bar!!! “N for a moment we wondered if it was true indeed. In the distance we could hear music being played n could catch a distant n not so clear glimpse of women dancing to the tunes of some latest Bollywood hits . Then sanity was restored. It’s not possible to have a dance bar a t such a conspicuous n noticeable place. Still curiosity persisted….Thoughts like “What if”, “Maybe” were floating in the minds…. Finally all doubts were laid to rest when the smiling Buddha n the lazy bum asked the people concerned what it was all about. A Sindhi festival was on in full swing.

As the “Smell of Mumbai” started “titillating” our senses more and more, we knew it was time to call it a day. Moreover, it was time for the Seemingly Sane Girl to get back into the Wilson prison.

13th April – Sunday: 6 AM to 6 PM

As usual I , the lazy bum woke up in the morning hearing the cacophony created by the crows perching on my hostel room window sills. Alarm has become redundant after coming here!!! . The fitness freak in me was off to the Marine drive, ready to jog from one end of the queen’s half necklace to the other. If someone has any doubts on how the people in Mumbai are able to keep up with the pace of the city, they can find a part solution to the question on the 4- 5 km stretch extending from chowpatty to Nariman point. The lazy bum could witness a fitness n health conscious mini – India warming themselves up for the hectic day ( and not so hectic for others ). Lazy bum calls it mini – india bcos, whatever be the classification u use to segment the joggers – state, age, gender, income – it’s a perfect representative sample . For someone like the lazy bum who has never come across more than 10 people during a jogging session back home in kozhikode, the scores and scores of joggers the lazy bum crossed, overtook and who overtook the lazy bum was a pleasant surprise. It was a celebration, a festival out there – A celebration of the well being of human bodies, a celebration of the spirit of Mumbai, a festival of the demographic, ethnographic n every –possible- graphic unity in diversity. The markers on the ground acts as a motivator for the tired legs to push further n cover that extra hundred meters.

After the lunch, The smiling Buddha n the lazy bum decided to hit Churchgate to visit a book exhibition whose exact location was unknown to the both. After alighting the train at the Church gate station, a well maintained one the lazy bum should say, we started our walkathon in search of the place. Churchgate was quite different from Chow patty. Though there were malls and other modern structures, the architecture of the buildings, the Parsis and the Parsi temples which were present in plenty, the layout of the roads etc gave the place a quaint n unique look and feel.

The smiling Budha jumped on to the middle of the road to get this picture right !!!

A parsi temple

After our legs started getting tired, n still with no signs of the book exhibition, we had to call up the Seemingly Sane Girl to look up on the internet to find out the location of the exhibition. The Seemingly Sane Girl, vindicated her name by not acting insane or not doing anything weird n promptly informed us the location. Though the collection of books weren’t outstanding, we could find a couple of books each; one of which The Smiling Budha predicted would become a collectors’ issue. ( “ Is it a bird…….superman” one ) The deal was a killer one - four books for Rs 130. The banner hung outside highlighted the cause for which the exhibition was held.

We reached back Chowpatty by dusk n joined The Don n the Seemingly sane girl to plan for the rest of the day. The gleam in the eyes of the seemingly sane girl when she saw the Superman comics, made me doubt if a better name for her wasThe seemingly sane kiddo girl . When we informed the Kiddo girl who was 21……….., who was put up at a far away Malad , were going to The Gateway of India, she replied with a tone which had a tinge of sadness n helplessness – “ I think i m going in search of The Gateway of Malad “...

The wilson gang

I was feeling uncomfortable n unsettled initially. Now things r back to normal, am feeling exuberant n excited.

Having lived in the comforts of H-hostel at K - which is at par with a star hotel facility – the shift to the dilapidated Wilson hostel (Here u need to do a push-pull-scratch-scream routine for the fan to start rotating, After the initial few drops of water that comes out of the shower u have a few minutes of self contemplation before the next drops come) had made me disoriented. But the fact that I could find a place to stay in South Mumbai for 4.5 grand per month has lifted my spirits.

Having followed a strict work out n diet routine for the past few months, I felt a little uncomfortable at - leave aside no work-outs, not even being able to eat proper meals. To put it in exaggerating terms – I didn’t know where the next meal was going to come from!!! By the time the restaurants became fully functional, I ll be in the cab to the office. The lunch in the office cabin sucks big time. N to make up for the lost day, one hogs like crazy during the night (n ideally one is supposed to have a healthy breakfast n a light dinner!!!). But I feel joyful now that I ve found out a restaurant that serves breakfast, that too a healthy one, from the wee hours of the morning. I ve also realised that I have the access to the state-of-the-art health club that the office is housing. So back to the jogs, work outs n the egg-filled, fat free diet. :-)

I felt quite lost n lonely since not many of my close school, college n K friends r put up in this part of the city. But this has opened up opportunities to form new acquaintances n friendships in the past one week. We have the Wilson gang which has its share of “roamathons” , “walkathons” “foodathons” n “chatathons”. At the time of writing the gang consists of : -

The Don – The dancer par excellence, the organizer, the co-ordinator n the mature member of the gang. The photographer who captures the journey in frames.

The consigliore aka The Smiling Buddha – Calm n composed, cool n collected, my mate from the Media Cell brings serenity n tranquillity to the proceedings. An amazing travel buddy.

The kiddo girl who is 21 but who looks like ___ - The entertainment package in the gang. Whatever she does, especially during the dinner time, leads to a laugh riot. Doesn’t like to get photographed from close. (Honorary member – shes left Wilson hostel n has gone to malad now, but shes an indispensable part of the gang)

The seemingly sane girl – Feels strange to think that this travel buddy is someone who I haven’t talked to much in college except during the “Ed-Med wedding that never happened under the gibbon skies” (To quote Burhan).She doesn’t like to get photographed with the specs on.

Yellaman aka Gendaman - The fight is on btw gendaman and kiddo girl who’s the better entertainment package. The one who unknowingly comes up with weird quotes, showcasing the endless possibilities of English language. Sample - _____ was initially tender on me (giving a visual demonstration also!!!), later ___ became rough. (Honorary member – Comes from the other end of the city to spend time with the Wilson gang. The company pays for his travel)

Yours truly – It’s up to others to fill this space.

Looking forward to exciting times and making the most out of the summers’ experience.

1st week in the maximum city (Part 1)

People say u can never live in another place, even in Ur dreams, if u ve lived in Mumbai. Having seen Mumbai in movies, having read about Mumbai in newspapers n novels, having heard about Mumbai from friends n acquaintances n having made a two day visit to the maximum city one year back, I was looking forward to experiencing Mumbai. The first two days were quite odd – I had nothing much to do other than wander around. The entire city was hurrying along in fast motion while I was loitering around in slow motion. The next five days were chaotic, disordered n frenzied but had its own share of interesting experiences. Some of the observations might sound like the usual stuff which u r already familiar with, but I m reinforcing n reiterating them with my first hand experience.

Mumbai is a city of long n serpentine queues – There’s a queue in the railway station, there’s queue waiting for the lifts, u need to stand in a queue to get into a restaurant, there’s a queue to buy a bus ticket, there’s a queue to get into a queue!!!

Mumbai is a city where there’s space for all yet is claustrophobic – This is a city whose population is more than that of Austrailia's, a city which has the space for each one of the populace to live their lives. I feel like floating in a vacuum with endless emptiness around when I do my daily jog thru the marine drive (luckily I m put up in one of the best locations in the city – the place which has earned the sobriquet ‘The queen’s half necklace ‘) , I feel light at heart when I roam around with the Wilson gang, with no regard to anything else. But I feel claustrophobic n violated when I climb into the lift which takes me to the 20th floor of maker towers which houses my office. I feel claustrophobic when I share the space in the local taxi. I feel claustrophobic at a traffic junction, surrounded on all sides by all sorts of vehicles. I feel claustrophobic when I sit inside the cabin in the office.

Mumbai makes u feel small as well as big – Walking amidst and inside the skyscrapers which constitute the manhattan of India, sitting in the corporate office of a major financial institution n interacting with the big shots by communicating in a language where the semantics are constructed out of proprietary jargon, shelling out close to a grand for a dinner ( at times ) , u feel u are important. But when u see a Ferrari and a Lamborghini vrooming side by side, when u hear about the rent your friend’s uncle is paying for a sea-facing flat (which is, bye the way, close to the avg package u get in a b-school) , when u c the 25 odd vintage cars owned by a puna wallah , when u notice that the brands u cherished n wore are being worn by all the madanlals, pyarelals n pannelals……u feel as if u cease to exist.

Mumbai ( or at least Colaba, where I stay ) is a city of extremes – When u look to the right , u c the quaint and old-world building which has been standing the test of time for 150 odd years. When u look to the left, u c the modern n contemporary 30 something storied skyscraper with an architectural brilliance par excellence. When u hear the “vrrrrrrooooooooooom” outside n when u look out thru the windows sometimes u the Ferraris zooming past, other times u c the ‘yellow-black’ cabs “zooming” past. U observe the scores of customers waiting to get into the plush restaurant where the price of an item starts at a miserly Rs 501, u also c the crowd that has gathered around the ‘Chaat wallah’ who has set his base right beside the posh restaurant. U see the cleaners n the sweepers cleaning the roads n the joggers path in the marine drive, a place which gives our eyes a visual treat, but when u walk down the beach u also c the piles of garbage n litter scattered around n feel the stench disturbing ur senses.

Key learnings from 1 year at K ( Part 3)

After a post which had a negative overtone to it n one which painted a grim picture of the first year, I feel it imperative to let the readers know that the positives gained out of the experience far outweigh the negatives.

I m not going to write much abt the clichéd ones like “Confidence factor”, “Communication n presentation skills” etc…., rather would concentrate more on the art of perfection of the JIT technology, the realisation that “Smart work” is the way to go rather than hard work n the most importantly, the G brothers (Actually, there’s not much difference btw them) - Mr Gas n Gyaan .

Just In Time – or JIT as it’s popularly known – was one of the breakthrough concepts in operations management. The core of the concept is “less inventory” n “less wastage” n the streamlining of the entire operations to ensure that products are rolled out just in time when it’s required. Due to a variety of constraints, JIT couldn’t achieve the magnitude of success it was envisaged to. But somewhere in a remote town located in the southern part of India, a bunch of 20 somethings have been fine tuning and perfecting the art of JIT for about one whole year.
The PGDM course structure which lays emphasis on lots of project work, assignments, presentations, quizzes etc, brings along “deadlines” with it…( The most familiar numbers in the campus are 2,3,5 n 9 or rather 23:59). As I mentioned in some previous post, “work expands to fill the time”. Over the course of time, the bunch of 20 somethings have realised this and hence have coined the new maxim “Work still fits in even if the time contracts”. They don’t carry any excess inventory in their mind n brain, till the need arises to roll out the final output. Usually this need arises during the last 5% of the time allocated, when the guys get their arses moving n hold the customary team meeting. Hence arises the 95-5 rule – “5% of the work gets done in the initial 95% of the time allotted, while 95% of the work gets done in the last 5% of the time allotted”. How does this help? U minimize the time spent on rework, u minimize the time spent on non value added work, u can use the initial 95% of the time allotted to perform other productive, constructive n creative activities.

We ve been taught from the childhood that hard work is a pre-requisite for achieving success. But what K has made me n many others aware is “Smart work” is a better n more productive substitute to “Hard work”. It’s not practically possible to keep on putting in more than 100% effort throughout a long time period. One tends to plateau or hit a trough occasionally. Smart work involves timing these ‘peaking, plateauing n troughing’ perfectly by ourselves, rather than those being driven by the course of events. It also involves customizing the work; customizing according to the nature of the work, payoffs involved, proximity of the deadline etc.

In addition to the various hypothetical characters mentioned in the previous post, some of the other interesting characters who visit the campus n become a part of everyone’s life are Mr Gyaan n Mr Gas. U never know what form Mr Gyaan will take – Gyaan can pour out during an informal chit-chat session at NC, can pour out from an intoxicated student, can pour out even from an otherwise inconspicuous student… Mr Gas makes his presence felt during the examinations, presentations, reports etc… Mr Gyaan n Mr Gas, along with the acquired academic knowledge creates this supremely confident student who is a master of the “Impression management”.

Key learnings from 1 year at K ( Part 2 )

Alter egos, schizophrenics, Transformed egos, confused souls, Split personalities, Actualized ones, Inflated souls, deflated souls, Detached souls, Restored souls….These are some of the people doing the rounds in the picturesque campus of K, along with the normal mortals.

Act 1 – The arrival :

During the first term, the students just flow with the system not knowing where the tide is leading them to. The seeds of confusion are planted when they are not quite sure about what’s happening around them or where they want the time to lead them. These are the confused souls, who don’t remember what they were, how they used to be…

During this journey, some start behaving like machines, just performing some routine activities; not getting the time to take a pause in between. The gist of the script of each day’s play titled “A typical day in a B-school”, is the same as the previous day – only the circumstances are little different. If at all they pause, they get sucked into their world of complications n confusions. Compounded by the enormous “pressure”, insomniac tendencies n a multitude of other factors, new alter egos are born n start accompanying the original ones.

Act 2 – The metamorphosis:

Cometh the second term, there’s one wicked monster which acts as a catalyst for this entire process – The P word. The P time is actually fun time if you are willing to look at it that way, though as a matter of fact very few actually do it. Surrounded by the persistent and frequent visits, banters, advises etc of the alter egos and confused souls ( Visualize it like a camera zooming in and out of our face, which is surrounded by various creatures with just a head n two hands…..zooooom in zooooom out….zoooom in zoooom out…zooom in zooom out..zoom in zoom out) , many souls start transforming – these transformed souls may be for the better or the worse. This transformation can lead to the restoration of the original self that one was or to a different personality, with the extent of difference varying from person to person. This can also lead to detached souls, people who are comfortably numb, oblivious to the deterioration in the quality of life they are leading.

I know people, who were once kewl, turn into emotional wrecks during this phase. I ve heard about this geeky girl who took it easy n became a freaky girl during this transformation. I know a student who goes home during the weekend before the exams, but is still among the toppers.

Act 3 – The settling down:

As the year progresses, there’s more clarity as to who’s accompanying whom n who all have left the campus. There are the restored souls – the ones who have once again pursuing things they are passionate about. Then there are the actualized ones – the ones who are clear about what they want from the institute n live their life accordingly. There are the ones who are comfortably wedded to the split/multiple personalities which reside in their body. I know a hardworking, dedicated student who lives in harmony with the perennial drinker, his other self, who brings into light an entirely different aspect of his personality. I know a student who roams around with his vagabond ego n who has once again started pursuing his passion for writing (No prizes for guessing the name!!!)

Act 4 - ? :

Waiting eagerly for the arrival of new guests next year n the departure of some existing ones…

I m not painting a dark picture of the entire act, just took my liberties as a writer to imagine n exaggerate.

Looking forward to the second year…