Man and the dog.

ok...I agree its been ages since I wrote something worthwhile (worthwhile...hehehehe)...but I have had my reasons. For starters, a screwed up comp at home does'nt help. No amount of indoctrination on the institutes part(doing my pg from Welingkar) to have the celestial initiative orientation can remove a guy like me from my reverential stupor, and get hold of a mechanic who can fix my freaking machine.

And then traveling to college is a pain. Now now, dont get me wrong...have been travelling on my own for a good decade and a half, but with every passing day, the number of people on the streets of mumbai seem to multiply three folds, especially since the past couple of months. The 11/7 blasts (I refuse to call them the 7/11 attacks) magnified the plight of this neglected city, but to no avail.

The thick skinned bastards sitting at Mantralay, don't care a shit about the beautiful city. None of the Peoples representatives from Mumbai opened their stinking mouth to voice the problems of this once beautiful city, in the parliament session. They said it was a collective decision on part of their party to discuss the broad terrorism issue, and not to restrict it to Mumbai.

I am not for any particular party. But there seems to be no one to to stand up for this city. I don't know where we are heading....if at all we are moving in any direction. This city has come to a standstill. Beginning to hate this city, beginning to hate my hometown.

The Shabana's give out a deafening shrill everytime the government tries to clear the slums, the Maneka's start barking when the BMC tries to sterlize the stray canines. They say they love humans and dogs respectively. Haha.

But they are more than prepared to see them living in the current squalor. Trust me when I say this, but the dogs prefer euthanasia to being run over by cars or worse, pelted to death. The Shabana's with their populist stand are encouraging the drought prone farmers to occupy our last remaining footpaths.

The former might be eyeing the votebank, but someone please text Maneka that dogs are yet to get a voting right.

Back to school

I don't know much about world cup, however I end up supporting Italy all the time. But limited knowledge hinders me from having a full fledged verbal discussion, which as a result generally end in low intensity fist fights.

Surprisingly, since I represent conventional Italian traditions just as much as Karan Johar represents Mans World Magazine, i cannot help but marvel at how irrelevant things can send the adrenaline rushing.
I say irrelevant because football in Mumbai has been eclipsed by cricket from the outset. That might not be the case today thanks to the influx of multiple media channels, but football in Mumbai has been restricted to Orlem, IC Colony and South Mumbai for most of the past century.

Still that won't stop me from watching a match on large screen and cheering any team. Italy is in the semi-finals and i sincerely hope that those rascist-neo-nazi-bastards are beaten convincingly by the azzuris.

World -cup aint the only big thing happening in my life right now. Got through Welingkar Institute of Management Development and Research, my home for the next 730 days.
Back to studying after a 2 year sabbatical. It sure is fun but staying awake for the post lunch session is the most difficult thing in the world, second only to the getting down at Andheri Station in a Virar Fast train. Traveling is a pain, though i am getting used to the art of self-flaggelation.

We had a Lecture by Capt. Raghu Raman on Leadership Skills. One of the best lectures i have sat for, notwitstanding the limited number of lectures i have attended. By the end of his presentation, most of us were in awe of that man's flamboyant speech marked with stories of hardship at the Siachen Glacier. Letters are the only respite our soldiers have in a place which can be rightly termed, "Hell at its Coldest".

Below is the address where one can post them.
Letters sent to this address are read out to the Jawans.

To, Officers and Men of Siachen Brigade
Cdr 102 Inf Bde
c/o 56 APO

the week after 'this week'

Well nothing worthwhile has been happening in my penury inflicted life.
Except for some beer sessions paid by my citi card, which is due to be confiscated in the not so distant future, owing to the minimum balance criteria hurled by those capitalist bastards.

Luckily there ain't a dearth of banks, waiting for irresponsibly ethically inclined prospective clients like me.


X-Men 3 was good, especially when Mystique transforms into her true self. Rebecccaaaaaaa.
Though they shouldn't have shown the Superman trailer before the movie, it kind of took away the punch from X-Men. Still Mystique saved the day.

Cricket saved me from boredom on the other days. The fun element of playing it on 14th Road cannot be approximated in words, leave alone the wonderful things who trudge by, under the "getting a hair cut from JUICE saloon" alibi.

Saur sucks in the field, not to forget the other vocations in Cricket(Batting/Bowling), but then we also have Dosh, who makes Saur look like the legendary E.Solkar at short leg.
Losing didn't hurt as much as having Dosh in our team did.
Classic example of the feeble becoming a liability.

So with all this happening, one would say I am being too harsh on life.
Cricket and Beer, for a guy would be next only to a strip club with no entry fee (if there ever existed such a paradise).

?....hmmm

Anyways, its raining as I type this, and half of Mumbai's population is home. Shop Shutters are down and the density of populace per square yards had dwindled conspicuously.

Hail Mumbai.

this week

As I lay here in a cyber cafe, trying hard to be oblivious to himmesh reshammiya's blaring nasal cries....aarrgghhhhhhh.......I cannot help but realise how a fucked up singer can make a nation dance to his tune.

I am beggarly sounding singer myself, still I do realise that one has to use his throat to sing...and not the nasal cavity. They do say, great singer sing from their heart, but nostrils?...that's goin a bit too far.

Yeah yeah....the tune and shit might be good for his supporters....but it is made void by voice which sounds like a drowning ogre.

My comps developed a rare disease which requires it to be split open by an engineer every 2 months. If that's not all, it also need a transplant, now and then, which explains the cyber.

Found a baby squirrel (Zakk) the other day, the dude was all alone in his nest, which came down with a chopped tree. So took the poor fellow home. Was a scaled down version of a grown up squirrel, but was still in the crawling stage.
Tried calling the SPCA, who asked me to deliver it to their facility near KEM hospital. Decided against giving it there, for the name KEM sent chills down my spine. It's a place where they discount a human life. So going by the logical conclusion, a place abutting KEM wouldn't be much different ideologically.
I might not be giving SPCA their due credit, but the baby was too adorable for me to take any chances.(Mumbai heat and the train travel aswell)

The dude relished Milkmaid and nothing else, and I found a home for it the very next day.

An agency in Andheri, (Karuna), refused looking after just one squirrel. So much for social work.
Those pseudo animal lovers.

And finally, Shar was the lucky one, who got peed on, by Zakk.

once was Bombay

The long weekend made me realise how it would feel to be wasted once again......and how I still relish being wasted.

Bawi, gave me 2 books to read and took back one under the pretext of her upcoming MCom exams. So I was left with, 'Once was Bombay' - by Priti Virani.

The books talks about this great city, and the innumerable problems it now faces. No economically inclined talks here, No check on the profanity either....
.... just a mention of the people who truly capture the hues that this city has been painted in.

22 years spent in this city, has made me oblivious to its problems.
Mumbai or Bombay is still where the heart lies, notwithstanding the 50000 odd villages and its villagers from the north who have migrated here (and are still migrating), thanks to a gentleman named Kripashankar and his likes.

Well, coming back to the book, it's as blunt and straightforward as the mutton knife I use.
The author has covered in great details the smaller aspects of this megapolis, and the beginning of its, not so distant, end.
The accomplished underworld, the remorseless police force, the insatiable politicians, the riots, the Page 3 cliques, bollywood, sex, drugs, violence, everyone has been dedicated with a chapter here.

Interviews with the first don of Mumbai, Karim Lala and his rivalry with the then upcoming star, a certain "Dawood Ibrahim Kaskar" is a slap on the face of people who thought, "underworld doesnt function this way".

The author has spared none of the hypocrites, and the subtle references to our socialites, just warns us how deep the abyss really goes, in this glamour hungry city.

A good read, though it might sound a bit sectarian at times.
The book will bowl you over with a piece on the city's resilient nature, and at the very next instance, warn us about the inevitable demise that awaits us.

Would make a true hardcore Mumbaite realise, that this aint the golden city it used to be.

lady love

How much I miss those legs........full of lust for the forever hungry.
Those breasts....always inviting....soft and succulent as ever.
Never fancied nibbling her neck, not out of fear of a hicky, but just didn't like the feel of it.

How much I miss her......Lord. Why, why did you have to take her away?

She was always cheerful, even after knowing that she had to go one day...one day soon.
But no one ever imagined, that she would have to go in such a humiliating manner, without appeasing the urges of mortals like me.

I still remember how happy I was the other day, on my way back from office.
The banal time I spend in the train was for once passing away at the speed of knots, for I was busy thinking about her legs. Those legs ...the ones I'd die for.

And then I got the news.....I could not have her, she wasnt meant for me...for she was diagnosed with a deadly fever which would keep her away from me.

How can I stay away from her?

After years of knowing her, she cannot go away just like that, overnight.

I tried to erase her from my limited memories and went about looking for other pretty things,
but it was inevitable. My mind kept thinking about her.

I blame my friends from China for her death. They started it all. And now i have to suffer. Talk about injustice!
My friends there, have a lot on their palette, unlike me. They stole the only thing i loved.

I can't take it any more. She will be mine again, and soon.






Screw the bird flu, i am having Chicken again!

bengalooru

Just back from Bangalore.....or was it bengalooru. i wouldnt have cared less. The building arent that high, and cast no shadows on the sesame street sized roads.
To borrow words of Jug Suraiya, 'its a small town dressed in a city's overcoat'. Its green ok.....a relief from the mundane grey of Mumbai. The public transport sucks, and i have the highest respect for the postal employees there.

Ninth block, 11th main, 9th cross, door no 121.
Its worse than searching for a cricketer in his all whites at a hindu funeral.

'Bomanahalli Circle' i said at the prepaid rickshaw counter, Bangalore Airport.
'Rs.150 sar, won ana haalf, after 9 na'. Wo KK , when you cant speak Kannada, its a bargain.
After 35 mins of enduirng a G-Force of 7.5 g, i reached my intended place of stay.

The weather was amazing, surprised Shrdh, who by the way has an amazing place there, which were the only saving graces of my trip.
The intended reason for travel didnt materialise, as the interview panel managed to grill me on something i should'nt have said. The altercation with the rick-wallah has left a sour taste, the flavours of which still make their presence felt from time to time. After 5 days was back in Mumbai and boy, was i glad.

Whatever its called, i am glad to be back in mumbai.
Am too attached to the filth around here, the beggars with an attitude,
not to forget the rickwallas who sit on the freaking edge of their seat, leaving enough space for 2 well fed aunties to play garba.

As of now, i still love this garbage dump of mine.

City of Joy

Have been doing a lot of reading of late, most of it started out of compulsion as i had a couple of interviews lined up. Only book which i could get my hands on free of cost was "City of Joy" by Dominique Lapierre.
Sid, the loyal un-marxist bengali(a true rarity) that he is, suggested and handed me this one.
I obliged.

Its a well written story, and one can envisage the eclectic lifestyle of the 'city of joy' the author is trying to portray.
Stephen Kovalski, the protagonist finds solace in the filth, that Anand Nagar is.
The story goes on to describe his confrontations with the nonpareil happenings, which reinforces his faith in the almighty and makes him strive all the more, to help the destitutes. It has a couple of other parallel stories. And hell did he introduce me to some sesquipedalians.

My opinion is that the concept would appeal a lot more to people who are not aware of the existence of general population held in squalor to such a great extent.
A French baroness nibbling croissants might choke and spit it out, on reading about Anouar's disease. But for a Mumbaiite just back from Churchgate in a Virar Local and the miasma at the ticket counters, it would just bring in a sense of nostalgia.

But some chapters were quite revelatory about our mythology. Now I know theres more to Ramayana, then what Ramanand Sagar televised. Or like what Shivalinga actually symbolizes.

Not a bad book huh?.....dont know if I should hand it over to Sid, maybe keep it on the shelf and show off the varied reading interests I have, to gullible visitors.

"ohhh...your son has read City of Joy, must be an intelligent boy....kuthé aahhey tow?"

2.55 pm

22 revolutions round the sun,

beer will help me with the 23rd one.

Hindsight is never 20-20. never will be.

try not to live for others this year.

burn some oil, get busy

bark

"Do ya like DAGS..." - Brad Pitt - Snatch


There are all kinds of them - Big bewhiskered mutts, Heavy hirsute, those skinny iniquitous creatures . You name it and you would find it on the streets of this city. Personally I have no grudges against them, but sometimes they sure can scare the shit out of me.

Particularly, this mutt, outside my lane.
Fed that bastard when he was as small as my hand, but i think their sense of smell isn't developed at that age, and now he barks at me at every single instance. He seems to be venting out his anger on the stuff that I fed him in his yesteryears.

He aint big, but is lean and can pounce with ease (Gir and Lok will agree). He is white with blobs of ochre here and there. The glittering set of vicious looking incisors, elegantly juxtaposed with the flickering evil looking claws and a shiny black nose completes the "curse of the 1st cross lane".

Well, he has never bitten me, don't know if he has bitten anyone, for that matter. But then my presentiments seem too real to not take any precautions.

I, infact, have kept a stick ready in the watchman's cabin incase he decides to devour my flesh anytime. Will think about methods of drawing up courage to go and hit him, later; as it is a bit too intimidating to imagine that scenario right now.

My fears are justified for i have had the privilege of being scratched and nibbled upon between the interlocking canines.....twice.

For the ones, who are yet to experience anything remotely related to dogs, please read on:
1. Never disturb a sunbathing dog.
2. And more importantly, never try to save a dog that is feasting in the middle of the road, with cars whistling past him. They know the traffic laws better than us and can look after themselves.
3. Make sure your family doctor is not on a Holiday. If so, make sure, you have atleast one family friend, who is a doctor (any kind...in my case was an ophthalmologist) who can administer the rabies vaccine, even on a weekend.
4. Never form an opinion about the size of the dog from 20 yards or more.

Coming back to our devil, hope the dog lovers of my lane, keep him well fed. And also that, Mrs. Maneka changes her stand on stray dogs.

_|_

You do unto others, as you would have them do unto you.......goes without saying....and I never understood this......never will.

I call people, my friends, my cousins, and my neighbours, for any event/gathering, which interests all.
Makes me think among other reasons, that the person might appreciate the gesture.....How naive could I get.
The world doesn’t work that way......and I have made it a point to remind myself this basic maxim on every occasion.

Many don’t treat you as you would want them to. And I wait patiently to return the hostilities.
But clemency has always taken over at the "moment of truth"....and I come back to the "Jaane De" attitude. That in no way means, I am a 'walkover'. Altercations are a part of me.

Be it the brash behavior of some, or the chiding remarks of the others, it hurts at that instance and I take a hard nosed vow to return the favour, but the conversion rate of all the pledges is outright pathetic.

I cannot be rude to people.....(OK...except the rickshaw wallas), and the other times when I have unpremeditatedly said anything harsh, I have resented having opened my mouth, for weeks together.

They all take me for granted, they think I cant get wild at anyone.......good they haven’t seen me angry. No....I don’t go about slitting everyone’s throats. But i sure can get wild.

I can.

Kheema Pav

Kheema Pav.....the once ubiquitous meal served at every Irani restaurant in Mumbai.

Made out of mince meat with some exotic spices, it is identified with the true mumbai flavours of the 60's and the 70's. Now now....i wasnt there then, but have heard plentiful to visualise with ease, the bygone golden era of the Megapolis.

My aai(mom) doesnt like it at all. she has her million reservations about having meat outside.
'You dont know which animal might have been slaughtered'......like i care, aai.

Dad, on the other hand, will religiously describe every aspect of the variety served at 'Olympia', 'Police Canteen', 'Bastani' and the erstwhile 'MayRose'. The fans, the chairs of the British era, the freshly baked bread, the spicy kheema served on the porcelain plates. The pictures are still vivid in his mind, i guess.

How 'Olympia' used to run out of Kheema Pav by 8.30 am in the morning.....!!!!!!!!!!
or how 'Police Canteen' used to be choc-a-bloc during lunchtime....

.........stories are a plentiful , more so on a 'oop-vas' (Day of Fasting), to satiate the growling stomach with thoughts of the desirous tomorrow.

I have no clues about the origins of the word, and i dont care, as long as the Kheema is good.
A lot of people call it 'Keema', but the places i have visited, more stress is laid on the 'h' which is as essential as the spices which go into making it.

They serve it traditionally with 'parathas'(hand rolled flat breads), but then again, the nawabs never had a chance to visit the Irani restaurants. More often than not, the restaurants bake the bread as well, so the Unique flavours are restored for each restaurant.

2 of my favourite haunt are/were:

Ideal - western railway canteen -
outside andheri (w) station.

Bastani - Near Metro..(now closed)

Caution: While having it in the above-mentioned restaurants, one has to be oblivious to the surroundings and stop worrying about the kitchen hygiene. Not recommended for hypochondriacs.

I don’t like fish, which is an anomaly in my family,
but I make up for it by relishing the pabulum for the truly blessed.

The Bread, the Slice of lime, the Kheema....

on my way to work....

I was feeling sick today.... got up to a running nose...and aching limbs.
Had to go to work (mundane life that I live)...

wanted to catch A-1 (AC bus), as I cant stand the 9.28 slow from andheri (and there is no place to stand in the train), packed like sardines we are in that locomotive.
But as usual was late to leave home.

So there I was at the bus stop...checking out the ladies...and waiting in the line for the AC bus. 10 mins hence, saw myself taking a ride to the station to catch the train.

'I cant be late, boss is coming back today'

finding your way through the swarm of people at the railway station aint an easy job at all.
One has to dodge the:

Annexure I
1. Saliva torpedoes of the spitting 'rickshawallas',
2. 'God knows from where he appeared' bikers,
3. The hawkers,
4. Street urchins,
5. 'I own the road' bus drivers.

A serpentine queue awaited my arrival, got a ticket, and then saw 'the snake' charming its way to platform no. 6.

People try to get in before 'the snake' docks itself. And then the crowd, which alights, is reminiscent of the mass exodus, which took place during partition. (what i have heard about partition)

I got in, negotiating the crowd to avoid un-creasing my trouser and shirt.

"Aah...place to sit today. "

The unwritten rule of second-class Mumbai local is, four sit where three are supposed to. Helped me earn a seat today.

But my elation was short lived, for there came this bastard who stood with his crotch right in front of my face (people here stand between the two opposing benches as there is no place to stand elsewhere in the train)... 10 mins into the ride he turned... Great...now he could fart and ruin the 'paco rabanne' effect I had on me. He didn’t. God bless his wife's cooking.

Standing near the doorway isn’t better, for you will have the dwarfs standing close to you, so close that they will for sure put milind soman, madhu sapre and the python, to shame. It’s that crowded.

You push him back, and he springs back like those stupid boxing dolls. And when they are short (with an obsession of not growing bald even when they are 80), more often than not, your shirt will have a yellow patch, which smells of mustard oil. So much for the Paco Rabanne effect.

Getting out of a train, other than the last stop, is just as difficult as getting in, for they start pushing you before the fucking train halts. And then there’s the walk, up the bridge, (no escalators here).

Like zombies we climb, not knowing where it end.
A guy tripping in front is the signal, that there aint any more steps left.

You dodge them (refer Annexure I) and there’s a Taxi stand, with ‘anacondasque’ queue. You crouch and pack yourself into one taxi, and wait for the misery to come to an end.

All this to just begin your day at work.

I shouldn’t complain, for there are people who travel from Pune (a good 190 kms from Mumbai), and back, every single day.

I am just, if not less, a midget in front of their wretchedness.

trying times....those were

The scores were out....was elated when i saw them....was happier when nab and nan scored good aswell. Excitement was short lived though, as it seems the institutes have found the arrogant side to themselves and have raised the bar.
We have been studyin towards it for sometime now. The Sessions at java green and cuppa cafe(place where they serve a pizza without cheese and call it calorie free pizza), came in good use.
the mock tests,
marching towards the centers en masse, like the herd of goats to be slaughtered.
lunch sessions where post-mortems were conducted. and religiously drawn analysis for the next test which were blasphemously forgotten, the next morning.

had a great time preparing for these exams.

Then came the real test, the call letters from the esteeemeeedddd institutes.

Was hoping that god would oblige this once.

He didnt.

kin(beer)garden rhymes

ringa ringa beerrssss.....
pocket full of cheersssss.....
hussha busshhaa....

and we all puke it out...

damn

we lost today....started off well....1 over 3 runs conceded and a couple of wickets......Dhi bowled well..but then it all started goin wrong for us...i could have taken that catch....damn y didnt i jump...have got too heavy...gave away 8 runs in one over....scored jus 1* and we lost by 6 runs....

so much for a merry chirstmas...

Decade....hence

10 years down the line.....

a humuliated australian player, who has been dropped from the team in a spectacular fashion, breaking his oath will inform the media how they(australians sportspersons) made fools out of the other countries by using performance enhancing drugs along with camouflaging drugs. and how only one of them was caught because he ate too much of fried chips, which by the way kill the camouflagin effect of the drug. he however was reinstated a year later on the basis of his performance......lol...ok so it may not happen in the said fashion....but i am so sure that one of them is gonna snap and puke away the secret.

sergio's grandson will tell the world how ferrari found loopholes and used it to their advantage for years, before 2005 season. how they flouted the rules, by throwing wads of greenbacks at some big shots, who would be dead by then.

Wasim Akram on his death bed will reveal how that he took some PED...........(performance enhancing drugs....u aint paying attention) along with his diabetes shots and so did the rest of his lethargic team mates.

there will be agents/agencies cropping up everywhere to help the B School aspirants with their form filling....right from circling the stupid OMR sheets...(dont ask me the full form)...to speedposting it.....to checking whether the institute received the piece of paper...for this thing to happen, one may not have to wait for a decade, might see it happening from next year itself.

Mumbai will have 69.5689741% of its populations staying in slums and the candidates for the 2019 assemble polls will all be locally bred slum hero's. People staying in apartments and bungalows will constitute the minority community.

India will enter into a strategic alliance with Serbia and Montenegro.

In between, China will have unleashed 5 more deadly virus on par or worse than SARS, while conducting some Chemical Warfare Weapon trials in the Guangdong District. Dont worry...none will in anyway affect India, whose citizens by then, will have developed immunity to Typhoid/Malaria and AIDS....OK i went to far.....Only Typhoid and Malaria.


As you all can see i am moving away from reality and also that my fingers are paining....so enough predictions for the day...time to meditate

team work

The Human Resource manual(the one i have) defines 'team-work' as, 'individuals working together and Cooperating within the group, especially among the acquired subsidiaries or merged parts of a corporation,to create an enhanced combined effect and achieve the over all oraganisational goal'.

does one need to learn this wicked definition to understand what teamwork is...

Absolutely Not.

one can play a cricket match against the neighbouring societies and lay a bet, to witness the panache with which the uncalled for rivalry makes an appearance .

And how the 'At War Cousins'(Dhi and Sur) for once stop swearing at each other and suprisingly egg the other fellow on or how the 'Heavy Footed slow coach'(Ra) starts sprinting faster than Maurice Greene. all this to acheive the common goal....A GLASS OF COKE. (the goals differ depending upon....the mood in the camp) and also respect of being mentioned when Cricketing topics crop up.

or even better.....Sit on the last seat of a BEST ( Mumbai public transport Bus) as i realised today.

i met Sur in the line, we got in and took the seat near the rear entrance(people usually sit there to check out the ladies who enter...i sit there to minimise my negotiating the evening traffic in the bus). Sur was sitting next to me, and the bus was moderately full when the Conducter signalled the departure with the tug on the string bell. i was emptyin my wallet for some idiotic reason and Sur was generally trying to check out the ladies out of the window. I normally am aware about the kind of people around me in the bus, but not today.

Then all of a sudden, 10 mins into our journey we heard a big thud. My first impression was that someone had fallen off the bus. but i couldnt see anyone through the rear window....maybe someone dropped his bag....well there was nothing on the road.

then i saw an old man...out of his wits....as if he had jus been transfered into this eon from the biblical times.....

then it occured to us...rather to sur....who told me that someone must have flicked his wallet or his bag...and bag it was.

After the 'post mortem' which is synonymous to the Mumbai, as Bush is to nincompoopism....Sur explained that there were 6 guys, who boarded the bus at the first stop....2 of them sat next to us....2 stood in front of the unfortunate victim...and 2 on his side. All this is near the rear entrance.

2 mins into the ride, the 2 sitting next to us, offered their seats to healthy individuals, (i mention that to suggest it was not out of respect) and stood behind the Victim. Then all of them lunged forward as if the Bus had breaked hard. And thats when they made their move. Dont ask me how the poor man didnt realise that his bag was being snatched....he realised it later when this guy standing next to him told him what had happened.

He got down, all shaken up and crossed the road on being directed by a good samaritan. Whether he was yelling or not, i donot know. But he sure was hassled.

Sur, so well versed with these harsh realities of life....told me that the good samaritan was infact part of the gang, and directed that man in the other direction(Damn it sur...u are tellin me all this now).

Hows that for a freaking pull off...!!!

Team work jus couldnt have gotten better.

.........Maybe second only to ours in a cricket match.

Aint doing us a favour

i am sure about inviting the wrath of the IIM community.

But i could not help forget the comment made by an IIM student., on NDTV.

While arguing the case for Manjunath, which i may add, hold true in any scenario, he went on to say that he was contemplating a decision to move to "CHICAGO".

He might not be speaking for the entire student community of IIM, but then nobody interuppted him as well.

His statement sounded more like a 'threat' than a comment. I absolutely stand by anyone moving out of India to pursue his/her personal goals, but when a person make himself sound like hes doing a favour by staying back, it irks me.

IIMites are truly creame de la creame of the society, but then they aint bigger than the country that they are residing in.

With all our problems, with all the corruption, with all the red tapism, the country sure is in doldrums, but it aint knocked out. I am in no way belittling the sacrifice made by Manjunath. It takes guts to stand up to all that shit, and i myself would have backed out. He has set an example for everyone, please dont make it a case study for attesting the cause of leaving this country.

But what baffles me is, had it not been an IIMite, but an average family man,(capable of getting an overseas offer at the drop of a hat) in this situation, would reaction have been the same.

An IIM community has the 'beef' to get NDTV make a show on it, i am sure it can wrestle a lot of other problems in the country.

For all you know, had Gandhi backed out at those trying times, all of us would have now been vying for a place in the prestigious IIM....Indian Institute of her Majesty.

Pussy galore

11.00 am seems aeons away. for it will be my first go at capturing the all elusive CAT(common admission test).

i have been told to chill relax, and loads of other things. i am feelin everythin but that. I may look chilled out on the outside....but gettin that shit queasy feelin in my tummy.

ozzy save me!