The Manilogues – I

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Epilogue

Dekha hai pehli baar man in the box

where were you roobaroo

And so the tone was set for the first leg of our Manila trip as part of the International immersion module for our batch. A motley crew of around 40, after battling it out for over two weeks with a barrage of classes, quizzes, night outs, and even the guilt of nonchalance, was all set to let their hair down on our first leg from Jamshedpur to Kolkata Airport, en route to the pristine beaches of Manila and AIM. Half of this crew was the “Taiwanese” junta, who were going to Fujen University, Taiwan.

By the way, they lovingly call themselves “Taiwan ke haiwan”. Very cliched and tacky no? Of course, we were not to be left behind in the tackiness game and our punchline has been “Manila mein raslila”. There are other versions too.

  • “Manila mein ghatshila”
  • “Yenla Manila” – This is the Kannada offshoot.
  • “Man illa. Only Woman”.

Nice no? Ok, the last three were my inventions, but am sure they are infinitely better than the raslila thingy!! Hmpff!

Prologue

So, back to the trip. It all started with a voting system that happened in the 1st term where we had to put in our choices for the country and university we wanted to go to. In fact, a big takeaway from the perspective of management education, per se, has been the capability with which we, as techno-managers are able to think outside the box, manage conflicts within disparate groups, get in best of the breed solutions without creating dissonance and ultimately norm ourselves towards a consensus, getting a buy in from all parties concerned.

To cut a long story short. Google polls. I probably have not participated in as many polls as I have after coming to do an MBA. Consensus building, they say.

Note the sarcastic take on management jargon? Eh? Time for a pause with a gloating smile here, pliss.

By the way, me thinks there is too much sarcasm for MBA education in my posts. Do you think so too? I think I need to do a poll on this. Hmmm.

Prologue again

Anyways, as I was saying. We had a poll on which universities we wanted. Now, “want” is an overestimated word in here. Some got the university and place of their choice. Some got the place and not the university. Some got the university and not the place. Some got tired of this and opted out of this choosing to go back home. And some just did not care. The last segment (Jargon alert!) would have gone to TIM, for all they cared,  if it was close to their hometowns. Or better, if there was a virtual International Immersion Module!

TIM – Timbuctoo Institute of Management. Flagship Program is their 1-month International EGMBA where the focus is on Timbuctoo’s burgeoning tourism industry which has grown by leaps and bounds just because everyone goes to this place when you do not have anywhere else to go. Good program, I must say.

Anyways, so finally the score looked something like this :

6 universities, 4 Countries, ~ 115 casualties, and 23 of them to Manila (Asia Institute of Management, Makati City).

I am one of the 23. Hence the title of the post. If you didn’t get it by now, you probably went to one of the other three places. Or just do not get what “play on words” is. Or you do not visit my blog often. Or you are an MBA with no sense of humor (sarcasm alert!!).

Anyways, a few emails later, a poll on who would be the team leader and a lot of emails hence on how to get ourselves transported to Kolkata without getting our asses kicked by the Maoist fellas, a bus was booked. And nope. No redbus, no yaatra.com and none of those “<dash><your><mine><his><and what not>trip” websites catering to provide buses between Jamshedpur and kolkata. It is the good ol’ “call up the travels, haggle on the price and book a bus” MO that works here. Hence, post a lot of debate on whether we should take a volvo or not, we ended up with a non-volvo.

That’s ’cause he did not have a volvo. He had a “Pahari Maa”. The name of the luxury bus, i.e.

And that is how, we ended up with a mish mash of the “tones” I mentioned earlier.

By the way, that was an indication of how I was listening to songs that were playing in the iPod shuffle I was using and the music system in the bus. And believe it or not, there was this mish mash through out. Except when we stopped the bus to pee.

Epilogue?

So, post a not-so-eventful bus trip we reached the Kolkata Airport well within time for check-in. After a not-so-eventful wait for the flight and a not-so-eventful boarding (of course, discounting the pretty Singapore Airlines hostesses) at 11:30 PM, we and the flight were set for the long trip to Manila. Again, except some nice turbulence, 2 really nice scotch-on-the-rocks for me, and 3 really nice conversations with a pretty air-hostess that seemed to last for hours (she came quite a few times to my seat actually, asking me if I had the belt on, if I needed a drink, and if I wanted some food…ah. The caring) , the not-so-eventful flight reached Singapore at an ungodly hour of around 3:30 AM. I think it was pretty much of a “walk in a hangover” for me, as I do not remember much of what I saw loitering around in the airport. Also, I think I am was am was in love with the air hostess. What was her name, dammit?

A not-so-eventful 4 , 3 hour wait later, the sleepy 23 boarded the Singapore Airlines flight to Manila. With a new set of prettier air hostesses waiting for me us. This time I had to sleep. I mean, on my seat. Alone, i.e. Ahem. Remember I was sleepy?

Ok. It’s over

And 3 hours later, we reached Manila. Philippines. Where else? A not-so-eventful 5 wait later, we met our AIM representatives, Frenzy and Chick. No, he was not in a frenzy. And she is very nice.

Post getting to know whether they were faculty (I think Koschan Nair has resurfaced!), we set out for the AIM Conference Center, at Makati City where we were to be put up.

A nice cup of hot tea, some Filipino biscuits, a quick tour of the institute by “Frick”, a hot, warm bath, an orientation to the 3 weeks of stay on what we would be doing, and with Juan on our heels, we were all set to immerse ourselves internationally in Manila!

P.S : As a first step to that, we got a crate of you-know-what. Just to immerse ourselves.

P.P.S : I have read Law. I will not be thrown out if I do not mention you-know-what….I guess?


Bye Bye lizzy…

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I know we’ve had a love-hate relationship. Since my school days when I used to study under a table lamp and you would sneak up to me from behind and sit on my table. When my dad would lovingly laugh at me for being so scared of you and would tell me not to bother about you. When I spent sleepless nights imagining where you were in my room and hide under my blanket. Waiting for the first break of dawn.

In fact, as far as I remember, it has been more hate than love, actually.

Probably, the only time I have had an iota of affection for you was when I was told by my mother that you bring a lot of luck. That if I saw through your eyes, and touched you on your forehead, you would bring me peace of mind. Of course, she also said a lot of other stuff about you being a form of god and how you are actually revered by so many people.

But you know what. I went through hell taking deep breaths and preparing myself to face you. You scare and creep me up so much. So, I agree I do not know a lot about you. But that is the way it has stayed. Even after so many years. And yeah, I did touch your forehead. Traveling miles away from home, and jostling through a sea of people. Just because my mother told me to.

I know I’ve always shunned you away. Even though my friends welcomed you in their rooms. Saw you through their windows without a hint of disgust. Hell, they even let you into their bathrooms. I mean, the bathroom! For heaven’s sake! Where you spend the most private moments, immersed in thought, planning for the day or just preparing for that case study you are supposed to analyze in class. And there you are looking at them with that steely gaze of yours’.

Anyway. Peace. I have no intentions of knowing what it was exactly that you did in their bathrooms.

I have seen you stare at me. I don’t know what it is that you expect of me. I have tried to be patient with you. I have tried ignoring you. But you always seem to intrude in to my life. At the most important moments. Such as in the mornings, after that customary cup of tea and all I would want to do was read my  morning newspaper and then rush for office. Or after a long day’s work, I just want to watch some good ol’ TV with a cup of tea, and there you are. Looking at me again. I mean. Seriously. What is with that look of yours’? Is it anger? Is it fear? Is it love? Or do I not matter to you at all? Not that I care, but what the hell is that look??

Anyways. Now, why would you want to interfere in my life like that? I have never hurt you, have I?

In fact, I have had to change my life because of you. During those days when you accidentally came into my room,  I have had to re-orient my furniture! Just so you could live leave peacefully. Without any bad blood. And this, after a long day of classes, quizzes and all I wanted to do was plonk on my bed and crash to a dreamless sleep.

Dreamless, did I say?. I have had nightmares after that. But did I ever complain? No. Never.

Well. Now, I am leaving for a few weeks and would hopefully not see you in the foreign shores I am headed to. I might come across your friends, but I am sorry I cannot carry any message for them, because I have no intention of talking to or looking at them.

I would hope that when I come back, I do not find you in my life. In my room. Or in my bathroom. Or looking at me through the windows. Or anywhere in the vicinity of me.

Please do not get me wrong.

I know you find various ways to come back in to my life, and I have blocked you off it. With cello tape!

I have never meant to hurt you. I have never meant to spite you, and god knows, I have never wanted to hate you.

But I just don’t want to love you.

I know I don’t have a heart.

But it is the pain of seeing you that makes me heartless. Bye Bye Lizzy. So long.

The joy..oh, the joy!

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**Sniff…sob…sniff**

The joy. The sweetness of it. Like honey dipped refrains gently flowing down the river. Like the cacophony of the world being washed ashore in it’s gentle notes. Like being buried in the beautiful arms of your beloved and listening to her murmur in your ears. Like the musical harmony of the yin and yang. Like the crescendo of Mozart.

The Nokia Ringtone. I hear it again.

It gives me

  • immense pleasure,
  • unspeakable happiness and
  • an emotional high (Yes, all three!)

that after almost 1 month of patient waiting, dirty haggling over documentation issues, frustration at the world, raving and ranting at the evil that is around, denial, anger, prayer, resignment, resentment, and the occasional serendipitous bliss on account of being disconnected from the outside world, I have finally emerged victorious in my fight against the Goliaths of the telecom world and have got a new number!

Victorious trumpet and elephant sounds in the distance!! Please to imagine!

Although I trade calls with only a select few, however, I invite you all to be a part of my new number and share the ecstasy I now feel!

Those who need to know have already got it. So, please do not ask me for the number in the comments section, unless of course you are a pretty girl and are turned on by any or all of humor, sarcasm, bad jokes cracked in the garb of seemingly decent angreji and a handsome blogger such as yours’ sincerely. Seriously. Look at my profile picture.

Oh, and if you are a girl, please do not visit the first of my Whatitees Guide. I was just kidding.

**Ringggg…**

Hello? Oh, hi baby! Yeah, finally got a new number..No, no of course I was not trying to avoid you darling…I did not have the number…yeah?…what?…you ditching me?!!…what?..why?…hey…hello?? Hello???

Damn you Tadaa DoDoMo!!!

P.S : All names have been changed. Of course. Any resemblance to any cell phone connectivity, activated or barred is purely coincidental. Please do not sue me and please do not deactivate my number again!

Whatitees guide: Anatomy of a B-schooler

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13

I am thinking I’ll turn it into a brand. Of the top of my head, it could be the next BIG thing on TED.  I could probably make educational videos of all the wisdom and knowledge I have been doling out and make money out of it. Or I could hold talks ; I could write books; I could make business models out of it. Probably give it a fancy name too – “The Risky Forces” model or something. And then I could sell it to management schools!  Phew! My head is spinning with excitement!

Yeah, I know you are confused. It is alright. Most people who come to this blog are one of those. And the ones who come repeatedly are, well, more confused.

I am referring to the Whatitees Guide series. I call it the series, because this is the second of the lot. The first one was about how you have 17 simple ways to get a date. If you have read that, chances are you probably are not coming back to this blog. But since I am on the way to becoming an MBA, and I have studied marketing, I know that the customer is a moron. And hence, I am counting on you coming back to this blog. There. I think I lost another one of my readership. Sigh. Nobody takes a joke seriously these days!

So, continuing with the “Whatitees Guide” series, I will be taking a wild leap into the dark and dinghy world of the B-school and it’s inhabitants. Yes, the B-schoolers. The “overhyped-doesnt-know-jackass-but-can-talk-crap-and-thinks-he-deserves-the-fat-pay” types. Yes, your average Joe who cracks an entrance exam, impresses the hell out of the interview panel with phrases such as ” leveraging domain knowledge”, “create value to society” and “peer learning”,  gets an admit and then finally switches over to consulting because that’s the in-thing to do!

Alright. You get the drift.

But I think I run the risk of trivializing the conundrum that is the MBA. And hence, the B-schooler. I guess it is not that simple. And in the transition from the Average Joe (Read: A 2-bit technical/sales guy) to the Above-Average Joe (Read: A costly technical/sales guy, a.k.a, 20 lakhs P.A paycheck), Joe transcends through several forms of the B-schooler. And you do not need to read through countless volumes of HBR articles on human behavior to see these forms. They are right in front of your eyes  - in the classroom!

I submit to you – The Whatitees guide to the Anatomy of a B-schooler!

From the eyes of another B-schooler, who runs the risk of falling in one of these categories very soon!

THE ROCK BANDS – They are everywhere. In every break of the game, inside the classroom, outside of it, in the canteen and even when you are drunk! They hunt their preys mostly alone, and many of them actually hunt on each other without knowing that they are of the same ilk. And then snigger about them on their backside! But they are the rock bands; the one’s who give you the highs and lows of being in a classroom! Here’s a smattering -

The Long-winders

They are also known as the “Disclaimers Gang”. Usually, their questions or comments start with phrases such as ” Sir, I am not quite sure I have understood fully, but just to avoid any conflict or debate on this issue, in my humble opinion…”…..get on with the question, dude! Zzzzzzzz!

The Insighters

They are the cool dudes! The one’s who use long sentences, and cool words/phrases such as “perspective”, “paradigm change” and “core competencies” anywhere and everywhere! Just like that. Sometimes they are full of wisdom and at other times, full of s**t. But they dole out either with equal gusto and passion!

The Last Minuters

These are the rock stars. Who care a rat’s ass what the professor just said, about the class being over and that he would discuss the Porter’s Model in the next session. They just need to get that bug (Read : The question) out of their backsides which more often than not, becomes a bug in the backsides of the rest of the classroom too.

THE STARS – They are everywhere too. But they are implicit. They are subtle. You would easily mistake them for a common B-schooler. But you’d be terribly mistaken. They are the backbone of the Rock Bands. You know that ” You look good, so we look good” phrase right? Yeah, without the Stars we cannot have the Rock Bands!

Koschan Nair

He is the quintessential B-schooler. You’d probably be thrown off-track by the Malayali surname, but he is the Clint Eastwood of the classroom -  Kozhikode, Kovalam and 2 smoking Coconuts! Et al.

The “shoot first, think later” guy who considers asking questions as a major ingredient in deriving the ROI he so diligently calculated while applying for an MBA. He probably has never heard the phrase “an intelligent question” and thinks it is a non-existent entity. He is the one who raises his hands to ask a question first thing in the class, when the professor says a “good morning”! Or so you think. Maybe he had his hand raised all the time. And he just does not know that. And neither did you!

Koschan “Allota” Nair

A close relative of Mr.Koschan Nayar. Some might say a brother. A close one at that. He is also known as “Allota”. It is not a reference to any accessories he might be carrying for his early morning ablutions. But you’d know why he is called “Allota” if you saw him in class.

He is the “shoot first, keep shooting, will think later if I get the time” kind of a guy who considers questions as THE ROI he had calculated earlier! ”Follow up” is second nature to him. His alter ego. Or maybe the schizophrenic dual personality the interview panel never had the time to identify because they were busy answering his questions!

Maikelaal Partha

He is the dude. He comes out with amazing phrases such as “repeatability and reproducibility of strategy”, worthy of being published in a paper and maybe being quoted by the professor in another class! He does not flinch from coming out with his own trademark “insights” and very often runs the risk of overrunning all the band members of “The Insighters”.  He is the next MBA Guru (after you-know-who), the hardcore Financial wiz, and the Strategist – all rolled into one potent combination!

Claus Partha Seshan

As the name suggests, he is probably of Indo-German origin. With a distinct South Indian touch I might add. As a South Indian, I can say this with adequate amount of confidence, that we, by dint of not finishing our lunch/dinner without curd rice, are quite inquisitive by nature. We get our curious genes from there. And if curd or curd rice is not available, rest assured, you shall be riddled with doubts, questions and comments of an incessant nature!

“Aavtar” Claus Partha Seshan

He is a close Indian relative to Claus Partha Seshan. For some curious and yet obvious reason, his middle name is actually the first. He of course does not bother about curd rice for lunch. All he wants to do is catch up with the professor when he wishes to have a quiet smoke and a tea by the tree, and talk to him about why Accounting cannot be neither art nor science. He is the evolved avtar of his mellowed down brother.

Well, I guess I have pretty much summed up the B-schooler. It is really amazing how this anatomy has not seen any change over the years. Even when my brother did his MBA from another premier B-school, he had similar characters there as well. And 10 years down, we see the lineage being carried over generations.

However, on a more serious note, these are also the stars who come out with the most innovative and insightful solutions to the most difficult problems. And that is an ode to the quirkiness that they demonstrate. It is what makes them unique. And hence a part of the elite B-schools they are in.

In some circles here, I am already a part of “The Disclaimers” band and let me justify that by saying that all the characters above are totally real with fictitious names. Most of them are good friends of mine and amazing personalities. A few of the lines and instances quoted are real, and much more than that, funny as hell! However, this was intended to be as part of my efforts to try and tickle the funny bone. And I would expect and hope the reader to have one. More so, if the reader happens to be one of the above!

P.S : While all my efforts in the last few lines above have been to make some amends, however, I get the distinct feeling, at 1:54 AM in the night that I would be questioned severly by Mr. Koschan Nair tomorrow!

Of Salsa, mad-ads and brainfarts!

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Why did they have Salsa and not a Kuchipudi or a Bharatnatyam dance event?

No, contrary to what you might think, Google does not have the answer. Neither does Yahoo! Search, or Bing or Ask Jeeves. But this has to be one of the most insightful questions / thoughts I have came across so far in my XLRI stint.

And where else could it have occurred except during one of our nightly jaunts to Bishu-Da’s “Tea-coffee-nimbu paani-gobi/anda/aalu paratha-general bakar” joint. Yep. You have general bakar as well to consume. That is free of cost, of course. We also call it Consulting, once in a while.  By we, I mean the MBA types – the groggy eyed, laptop carrying, jeans and T-shirt clad “cool dood” who can talk about Indo-China Economic relations with as much ease as he would talk about why girlfriends behave the way they do.

Ever heard the phrase  “Ignorance is bliss” ?

Of course, the same applies to the groggy-eyed-with-mascara (?)and-eye-liner, Jeans and T-shirt clad “cool doodettes” as well. But then when they talk about why boyfriends behave the way they do, well, they are usually right. Yeah! The phrase applies here as well.

Anyways, so we had just returned from the library after a grueling 2 hour session of

  • walking up to the library,
  • doing some arbit fundebaaji with some batch mates,
  • opening laptops and checking for some blog comment updates / Facebook updates,
  • cribbing about the food, assignments and our present conditions,
  • doing some more arbit PJ-cracking,
  • getting all the relevant reading material, and then
  • copying in abstracts as part of an assignment for one of the courses.

Well, I still do not know why we did the last bit, but suffice it to say that they are the “occupational hazards” of doing an MBA. Once we were done with all this, we found ourselves naturally walking over to Bishu-da for a cuppa tea and some more of the above.

And naturally again, there we see some pretty looking ladies and some pretty, good looking, well-dressed guys all gathered around, obviously for some kind of a party. Which is when we realized it was Salsa night for the 2-year MBA crowd. We, the 1-year MBA junta were also invited. But I guess when we have people doing the tango everyday with their wives, a few others nursing broken backs and aching legs, and the rest reeling under the effects of quizzes-assignments-projects induced insomnia, Salsa does not figure too high on the to-do list.

And all I could think for an answer to this question was – Maybe it is a case of “Two to tangle, and one to Tango!”.

However, a little birdie did tell us that some dance enthusiasts from our batch took part in the same Salsa event on an earlier occasion. I know it is sightly unbelievable, but you should have come to GMP’s first party of the academic year – Amnesia. Although a lot of us were doing the Big B/Nakka Mukka/Dhagala lagli version of the Salsa, but the talent was evident.

Speaking of talent, can you imagine of a better event than mad-ads to let out that constipation occurring in that top story of yours’, time and again?I cannot, and I’ve been taking therapy!

If you want to check out an original brain fart, you can enjoy it here. Three of us took part in an Ad event conducted by the MAXI, called LegaliZe.

Do not ask me why they had a ‘Z’ in the name and not a ‘z’. You can come up with a brain fart of yours’ and not let me know.

Anyways, here goes – the first Ad I took part in – creating a surrogate advertisement for “Guns”.

Must say – it stinks, but it was the best feeling ever! I do have Eno, if you need one!

P.S : Credit needs to go where it is due. Also, another way to say – the question was not mine. So, do not kill me. Hence, the P.S is in Bold – Italics! It was asked by one of my good friends who is a batch mate here at XLRI.

The MBA pictionary..

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2

…and a “picture speaking a thousand words” and all that. Yeah, you’ve heard that phrase somewhere, right?

For all those MBA aspirants, this is reality. Stark. Naked. Stripped down completely. The one where you take the red pill (remember The Matrix?). This is no Wonderland and Alice would be as lost here. All you can do is chat up with Alice and hope your picture looks a shade better. But, by the looks of it so far, I’d be willing to place my expected MBA degree on bet!

Ok, you get the picture – literally and figuratively. And now the thousand words as well.

Ever felt the real power of a “power nap” – where all you do is close your eyes and let the world around you subsume you in a beautiful, warm darkness? Darkness as black as can be, and you just float around – only, you do not know you are floating. Darkness so endearing, it’d be a crime to come out of it. Darkness so seductive, you’d wish to lose control to.  Darkness so romantic, it could almost be poetic.

B-school life has just begun. And I can already see some changes. I talk more. I listen even more. I cannot sleep. I have started seeing things in a different light, which in MBASpeak is termed as “perspective”. But then lack of sleep can also make you do that. “Time management” suddenly takes on a new meaning. More so when every faculty member throws that phrase at you in almost every class! Balance sheets have created a new kind of an imbalance, where your sole purpose in life for those few minutes is to “crunch and match numbers”. For most part, it’s your head in the midst of all that crunching, but when you end up being saved by the best Finance faculty in the country, with the occasional Bengali humor, you feel that you are still alive after the deluge of debit and credit you go under.

You take to words such as “global perspective”, “perception”, “opportunity cost” and “ROI” as easily as a fish would take to water – most of the times, though, they are used anywhere and everywhere. Whenever you want to sound intelligent. Or dumb. Or you just want to use them. As the case maybe.

Night outs with case studies, assignments and intoxicants, once in a while. Frustrated looks during quizzes, and nonchalance after they are over. Tea and parathas at 1 in the night, while discussing business, binomials, branding and babes – in no particular order. Clubs, committees and forums. Glib talk, desi talk, fundebaaji and more!

In short, life is FUBAR. And a lot of fun!

Occasionally, in your private time (the loo, i.e), you see glimpses of your past life when it was much simpler.

If your wife or girlfriend uttered the word marketing, it usually meant shopping, isn’t it? Or at the very least, a walk to the friendly neighborhood, “Bablu Grocary and Genral Itims”. A quick chat about the vegetable prices, Dhoni’s wedding and you get back with the newspaper in your hand – usually as a supplement for Bablu’s snippets!

But now you run graver risks with your newly attained MBA knowledge of what marketing stands for – A cold-eyed stare, and probably no food for having created a mess such as this…

…and all because she asked for a soft drink!!

That’s the MBA pictionary for you. In short.

Was that thousand words?

Whatitees Guide : 17 simple (?) ways to get you a date..

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Warning/Disclaimer/Escape Routes : Long post. Really long. Read at your own risk. I claim no relation to any loss of hair, bodily harm caused by the reader to him/herself, loss of any sense of sanity or getting shot at. And yeah , please do let me know if you are alive at the end of it.

I know you can buy them off the fruit shop. No, I am not talking about that. You can let me know (via the comments section, i.e) if you did actually think I was referring to the fruit (eyes rolling), but it is alright.

I will not hold you to that – most of us have been there. Yeah, in that place where we thought a date was that sticky dark colored fruit meant to be eaten, post which the fingers were meant to be licked dry.

By the way, did you know that the fruit’s English name as well as the Latin species name dactylifera, originates from the Greek word for Finger, “daktulos”? So, next time your boss asks you to stay back in office, while he goes gallivanting with his new wife, you can just show him a date! Add a crooked smile to that as well. And while he scratches his hair to decipher this, just put that date into your mouth for good measure – just to seal the point – You showed him the date and ate it too!

Devilish Chuckle! I cannot control the excitement inside me. Too much.

So, anyways. Back to more important things.

Lot of throat clearing.

I submit to you – The Whatitees guide to getting yourself a date.

Victorious trumpets sounding in the distance!

Date noun, verb,dat·ed, dat·ing

- noun

- a partner, companion, girlfriend/ boyfriend who you need to woo, hem and haw!

- verb

- Wooing, hemming and hawing with the partner, companion, girlfriend/boyfriend!

Follow the following rules and you would never have to eat those dates alone by yourself! Note the wrong play on words? Ha! I am brilliant!

1. Get online

Facebook, Orkut, Twitter, Hi5, MySpace,YourSpace, HisSpace, HerSpace – Ahem. Sorry, got carried away. Basically, any social networking site where you can scrap, ping or pong with members of the opposite sex – get on it. And be on it! Just imagine yourself hanging on to the last bit of rope while dangling from a cliff with not a soul in sight. And then, out of the blue, a Stanford drop-out passes by, looks at you and offers to help if you create a profile on one of his millionth sites which needs you to rate somebody Hot or Not. What would you do? Think how offensive the idea is and discuss morality with him? NOO! Just use the most imaginative user name you have and create that god-damned profile! And get 10 others as well who are dangling along with you!

As an example, create a witty profile and hook them with a decent photo, like mine.  This will help you stand out from the crowd. Literally.

2. Get out there

Yeah. Roadies, Splitsvilla, Truth Love Cash, Love.net. Reality shows with hot babes and cool hunks. Testosterone and other hormones – they have spoiled it all. All you do now is get back from office, order a pizza, and ogle at the mini-skirt clad chick mouth obscenities. And then discuss on who would be voted out. Pathetic. The chick is hot, though. Do not get me wrong.

Dude (or, as the new-age kids say, Gal), no-one gets dates by sitting at home with the Idiot Box. You’ve got to go to that local fruit shop and bargain hard. Or better buy one of those boxes from Big Bazaar. What? Yeah, am talking about dates. Oh, sorry.

What I mean is – you need to “get out there”. Be visible. Be the man. Or the Girl. Accept invitations, or better just gate-crash into a party!  Look up old friends (read : unmarried and still single) and go to local events – again, step 1 will help you out here. If you are the intellectual type, go to Crossword. If you aren’t, go anyways.  Stroll alongside the Romance or the Cookery sections. Pretend to peer into Sanjeev Khanna’s recipes and take a look around. You’re bound to come across someone who likes Palak Paneer as well. And then the rest is, as they say, dinner!

3. Sign up to learn something new

You’ve already signed up in Step 1. That was online. Now, it’s the turn for the offline ones.

Guys – sign up for an evening class on how to cut onions without getting tears into your eyes.  This will impress the lady to no bounds – I hear ladies do not like cooking these days and expect their partners to know a thing or two as well. Also it will give you a good alibi to stroll around the cookery section at Crossword. Eh? Brilliant, aint it?

Girls – sign up for an evening class on how to smilingly say, “sure, would love to go out for a coffee with you” when the cute guy looks at you with a “Easy recipes for the Bachelor” book in his hand, and innocently asks you how to make poha! Please do not be harsh on him – it would be his first time, you see. And wouldn’t you love to wake up to a nice plate of tasty poha served hot along with coffee, on your bed?

4. Don’t be a slave to your job

All work and no play made Venkatamurthy and UmaMaheswari a dull boy and a dull girl with no chance to participate in Splitsvilla! While we are on these Southie names, have you ever wondered why we do not see any South Indians in these programs? All we have are the Siddharths (lovingly called Sid) and the Sakshis (Loving called Sak or Saks) from Saddi Dilli. Well, this Southie cowboy is all set to change that! Just mind it!

Anyways, if you’re overworked, underslept, or overslept you won’t feel like going out on dates. Come to think of it, if you overslept, you might not even be able to make it on time for the date! HeHe! Smart, that one, no? So, do not work too much – in fact, by the current mindset I am in, I am inclined to say, do not work at all! But well, it is the question of the criminal stomach – so, keep the work to limits, leave office early so you are not stuck in office and sleep well, so you do not fall asleep riding or driving!

5. Talk to more people

Some lucky people are natural flirts. Like me. Yeah! Which is why I am writing this guide you see – to help the less talented ones out there. If you think I should not be gloating at this point, well you are wrong and you can go to hell.

But the difference between you and me is I don’t think it as flirting, per se. You see? I can chat happily with the girl I met via Orkut, on Gtalk  and even let out amazing smiles – all part of the charm I put out, you know. So what if she has a “busy” status – ping her!  Busy, smushy, my foot! Be confident and friendly. Even if she asks you not to disturb her, let out that wonderful smile (Gtalk has many – use one of the best ones!) and be approachable – that is the key my friend! The more you chat with people, the better you’ll spend your time in office and the better you’ll feel about yourself!

6. Meet people’s eyes

Oh! This means the previous point was about chatting in real??!! Not on Gtalk??!! Well, ok. Make a nice joke or a limerick or something which would throw the reader off-guard. Or better, just throw him or her off their seats! Say something! Anything!

Yes! So..meet people and ask them their eye power. You’ll seem interested and confident – two sure shot qualities that win more dates than ever!

Phew! Saved by the date!

7. Dress for success

Your clothes make a statement about you! And your bodily odors make even bigger ones! And I cannot over-emphasize this. Wrinkled or ironed, gun-shot jeans or plain denim, low-waist ones or the really low-waist ones, Polo T-shirts or Sweatshirts, Bermudas or Jockey shorts, Mini-skirts or plain Jeans, halter-tops or spaghetti straps (if they are the same, I ask for pardon), Axe Deodorants or Park Avenue Perfumes – well, I cannot tell you what statement  each of them make – all you can do is clean up well, take a good bath, wear any dress you like and let your date pass a comment at you! Or better, let your date give you that incredulous look! THAT would be the statement you are looking for!

8. Be as vain as you like

Gym and work-outs. Aamir-type 6-packs. Cucumber packs on your eyes to make them look fresh. Face packs at Kaya Skin Clinic to make you look younger. Mascara and lipsticks. Garnier For Men. Spot reductions and so on.

Do all of the above and more. Vanity may be one of the seven deadly sins, but do not overdo it by getting up at 5:30 AM in the morning to make that short trip to the gym – Just because you have a mental block against going in the evening and you need to cook lunch for office! It tells people that you are being a hard-a** or getting old or both, and are thinking too much about saving up money!

9. Shake up your social circle

When was the last time you attended a wedding? Last month? Your friends’ wedding ? Ok, all your friends are couples now and hence you do not have partners in crime? Seems a familiar problem? Well, if that is so, well your chances of meeting a potential date through your friends and/or their spouses are not exactly next to zero, but are in the negative. Unless you get married too. Yeah, sad but true.

Broaden your social circle to include more such charming, happy singletons who would be more than willing to take you to their friends’ weddings – I hear marriages are a good source of potential dates.

10. Make the first move

But take cover as soon as you do. Being proactive and all that is fine, my friend, but if you take help of such cheesy lines such as “Hey, I hear your dad’s a terrorist, cause you look like a bomb”, be prepared to get blown to bits!

Everyone likes being flattered by attention. And by that, I do not mean the wide-eyed stare at the hot-looking girl riding her bike in the opposite direction to you. You might end up crashing into the car ahead of yours’. And the attention you’d get then, is not exactly flattering!

Take a look at your surroundings, make sure there are no bouncers or such kinds around, more importantly keep in mind the location of the exit doors – much like how Sachin Tendulkar takes a look at his field before he adjusts his abdomen guard and then unleashes his cover drives! Silly point it may be, but it wouldn’t harm to keep one of ‘em guards with yourself. Just in case.

Keep the opening comment brief and casual, perhaps something on the weather, and then put the focus on them (with one eye on the exit, as I mentioned before). The more interesting you find them, the more interesting they’ll find you. And then you can make all the moves you want to! Much like Austin Powers! Groovy baby!

11. Learn to survive a brush-off

If you approach someone who turns out not to be interested, don’t go away thinking that your world has ended. Be sure of it.

To the most successful pick-up artists, rejection is like alcohol off the bartender’s rack. They don’t run away crying, they try again with a different drink. Learn to survive the brush-off. Or better still, get married. Yeah, sad but true. With due respect to all my married friends.

12. Forget about playing hard to get

Just become the most desperate, lonesome creep they ever knew! The only real way to a man or a woman’s heart is to let them know that you like them. Better – that you are deeply, utterly, hopelessly in love with them!

If you’ve enjoyed chatting, ask where they stay – forget numbers and phones. If you met online today, take an off from work tomorrow, get up early in the morning, don’t take a bath and wait for them to get online. And then ping them, till heaven comes to glory! Till your machine crashes! Take it to the kill!

13. … But leave them wanting more

Ah! Who’s gonna be wanting more after you’ve let them know your love, eh? Seriously, who? Especially after you’ve played so hard?

14. Brag less, listen more

If the first comment was about how beautifully clouded the evening is, do not go about reciting the weather forecast, including the number of inches of rain it is going to fall for your city and ten others!

Listen. Listen carefully to how your date describes the weather for you. Then make a beautiful, romantic poem out of it. Like, “Rain, Rain go away, little Johnny wants to play”. Or something to that effect. Do not worry – just flow with the moment.

15. Forget your ex

Yeah, and concentrate on the P. Not that, you fool! I mean, the present. Do not look for a xerox of your last partner. Do not even mention about your ex, until there are signs that your date and your ex were actually good friends back in college. Then forget your present as well. And you might as well concentrate on the other P.

16. Keep your options open

Yeah! Just use your imagination! hehehe!

17. Stop looking

If nothing else works (including the “open options” – if you know what I mean), well, this is the final straw, unfortunately. On a different note, I am sure, if you have actually reached this point, you would have stopped looking pretty much everywhere else – even your mails and that hot chick you were chatting up around an hour ago!

I know. I am guilty of that. I write so well, that it is captivating! But if you actually thought this was a guide to help you find a date, well, I have just re-christened this as “The Whatitees Guide to getting shot!“

Get a couple of those Big Bazaar dates and Happy Hunting!

P.S : All characters here are fictional and bear no resemblance to anyone living or dead. Venkatamurthy and UmaMaheswari – I am sure you are wonderful, loving people. UmaMaheswari – wait for that Gtalk ping!

P.P.S : Adapted from an article by Jane Hoskyn on Yahoo! Personals. On the lizard that is currently crawling up on the walls of my kitchen, I swear I came across this article by accident. Credit needs to be given where it is due, right? I swear. Damn! My credit-card bill!

The FAQs

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Why do some people just stare at you while you are with them in an elevator?And I am talking men! And that too at 6:30 AM in the morning!

Why do they keep staring at you even when you look back at them?

Why do some people look at you while singing? I mean do they want appreciation for every line sung? Or are they just concentrating?

If it is the latter, why cannot they close their eyes? Or why cannot they look at a mirror? Or why cannot they look at the sky? Their pants? Arms? What am I talking about?

If it is the former, why don’t they stop singing when you smile back? Is that not appreciation enough?

Why do some people ping you on chat, say just a hi – almost a dry, nonchalant, no-exclamation, doing-a-favor-on-you kind – and then, when you reply immediately with a complete opposite “Hey! How are you?” ,do not respond for an eternity?

And when they do, why do they say any or all of these – wassup / kya chal raha hai / aur bataa / hi / hey / / ? The last one was no response – eternity continues.

Why do some office colleagues come inside your cubicle when they want a break, and in spite of the fact that you are on a break yourself listening to some music with your headphones, will start a conversation with you about how the zipper on the company-gifted office bag, is actually of low quality? And then look at you for a response? And then when you have removed your headphones (out of courtesy – professional or whatever), will look at the monitor and ask which song you have been listening to?

Why don’t they take a hint and keep ambling around your cubicle trying to think of some vague topic to talk about, while you keep your headphones around your neck waiting for that nick of a chance to cover your ears?

Why does my subordinate keep calling me “Sir” whenever he passes by my cubicle, despite the fact that I have asked him not to? A million times!

Why do some people park their bikes, scooties, scooters in the area meant for my car? And why does the society watchman not watch all this? And why does he just smile back when I ask him to get off his chair near the society gate, take a stroll around and make sure that such mistakes do not happen with others as well?

Why do some people put their hands in their pockets and dance in front of a mirror while knowing that there are some people who may be watching them? And then pretend that they are dancing for the “love of it”?

Why am I starting to sound like Kareena Kapoor in the Airtel ad?

Why are you reading this post?

P.S : If you are reading, please do answer the question above by commenting here. Please do so, even if you aren’t.

P.P.S : I should thank all my reader, my innate sense of human behaviors, and that paper guy in the elevator who was staring at me while I was returning from my morning workout in the gym, for inspiring me to write this very introspective post. I only wish it was that girl in the pink sports T-shirt, instead, staring at me. I think I have fallen for her – spent 8 days already in the gym. 3 more months to go! Kamaan!

P.P.P.S : Why have I been using the P.S so frequently in the last few posts?

So..howdy is things?

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Spots. No, stars. To be more precise, as I recollect, they were starry spots. Everything around me was in slow mo. Tom-Hanks-in-Saving-Private-Ryan style. Except, there were no bullets flying around and no one screaming into my face “Captain, are you alright?”.

I could hear a dull thud somewhere though; didn’t know whether they were drum beats or my heart pounding. Faint pictures floated around, as beads dropped on the leathery surface below. Thoughts, were they? But I knew they had put me on a roller coaster ride. Fun. Laughter. Melancholy. Love. Headaches. Ecstasy. The churn in the bowels. Green mountains and dark clouds.

I took a deep breath. The numbness was starting to creep in and I looked up. Times of India, a bottle, echoes and a water cooler. Oh, it was in my hands. I raised it to my mouth and took a gulp. I could feel the cold path it had taken inside of me. Like snowfall in a forest fire. Not quite dousing it, though. I looked up again, trying to focus.

A pair of eyes looking at me. Sympathy? Empathy? Amused? I then realized they were looking at my hands. I looked down, and there they were – the drops turning into a smudge on the leathery couch, and drying up. I wiped that with my hands. Just then, a streak of yellow from the horizon fell on me mercilessly, as if trying to shake me off the reverie I had fallen into and I was transported back to reality.

I stood up, took another gulp, kept it on the cooler and headed back into the gym for another round of cardio.

Yeah! I have joined a gym. Finally! After 11 long months of dealing with a lot of things happening in my life, I decided it was time to get back on that treadmill and run like hell! To pick those dumbbells and pick bell workout (?) like hell! To get on that EFX machine and…err..EFX like hell!

And although, after the first 10 minutes of cardio, it did feel like hell, well, I am glad I have started the painful journey…yet again! Persistence has got to have some rewards, right? Along with good dieting?

And yeah! Finally, thanks to my good friend K10, I am getting a Mauser gun all to myself. Beware, the next time you land in my house, you might want to memorize the password or you might just end up eating Lead Masala! I finally get to live the lifelong dream I have had for over 2 years, starting 2007 and which somehow fizzled off in the year 2009 owing to recession, Chennai and well, ahem…some guys.

I just could not believe that I had lost my powers of flirting! sob! sniff! Atchoo!

But we shall get to that later, for right now, I am all set to be – Devilish laughter and a crooked eye-brow in anticipation of what’s to come next – The handsome South Indian cowboy, with a 6 tier pack and a license to flirt!

P.S : Well, just so the alarm bells don’t start ringing, and you start to think that I am running the IT arm for Al-Qaeda or Al-something else, the Mauser is actually a lighter, shaped as a cool-looking gun.  But pliss to ignore that for now!

Heart is after all child G..

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- My hair is thinning slightly and I compensate for it by keeping it short like Aamir Khan did in DCH. Although, I do see tendencies of Akshaye Khanna in it now! Anyways, I have also given a thought to growing my hair long and keeping a pony tail – along with the mandatory French Cut – Thought it would give a dashing young look! But, well, it has remained just that – a thought. Also, I get fidgety once the hair starts falling over my ears! BTW, is the Ghajini Mohican style in vogue now?

- I do not like heavy metal, hard rock, death metal (goodness?!),hard metal, rock stone, slow metal (and myriad other forms of such “music”) or anything that poses potential danger to my hearing. Hence, I despise even going to noisy places for that very occasional drop of sin (if you know what I mean;) ). Pink Floyd was, is and will be – the one!

- I used to love driving. Yeah, used to. Now, I just drive. And I try to keep my cool while bikers whizz past me with reckless abandon, cars honk from behind at a traffic jam (as if the sound waves emitted by that would clear the road for them!!), oncoming vehicles put on high beam lights in city roads, and office cabs cut me off as it was their birthright! All this, while I try hard emulating driving habits of Japanese drivers (in a single file)!

Of course, in an effort to justify the EMI going in for my car, I try and make use of the little comforts and momentary joys it offers, like listening to music – again, nothing hard, but soft, soothing music and once in a while retro – Kishore, Rafi and Lata Mangeshkar hits. However, that has never stopped me from muttering cusses under my breath whenever an aberration such as the ones pointed above happen to me!!

- Strangely, kids call me uncle! I say “strangely”, because, well…I am not an Uncle! I still like watching Tom & Jerry, I have started collecting Tintin comics (and am contemplating Asterix as well), I find the new-age computer games too addictive and exciting (forget your homework guys! Go ace Battlefield 2! ), and who doesn’t take a stroll down the toys section in Crossword to see if they have a plastic make of the M4 Carbine or the Beretta guns…I mean, who doesn’t!

- I have a slight paunch which just refuses to go. And lazy eyes, that just refuse to open up early in the morning so I can make that short trip to the gym. And an even more lazy mind, that just refuses to make that short trip to register for the gym. And to top it all, a shameless disposition that bares all this in front of you.

You’d think I would be embarrassed – Hey, after saying all those things above; whaddya know! I am maxed out!

The final verdict? – Yes, I am getting older – I am not afraid to admit – yes, I am! yes, I am!
Some chest thumping, eye – widening and fist-punching! Phew! That was a load off the chest………………………………………nah, it still hurts! :( Yeah, the chest thumping also!

Anyways, ever wondered how as we get wiser (ahem!), we start to feel nostalgic about our childhood and everything related to it – that tug at your heart while you came across your old school mark sheets or accidentally came upon a photo where you looked skinny amongst a group of other skinny kids and an elderly lady/gentleman sitting in the middle, and you ended up having that incredulous “is-that-me-without-the-paunch” look on your face Or a familiar song suddenly transports you to that rainy day which had been buried under for so many years or a call from one of your father’s family friends reminds you that you are still that chubby little kid for them?

No? Never had that feeling or that look or that call or anything?

Well, then there are endless possibilities for that to happen. To name a few -
1. You are as skinny now as you were then, OR
2. You pass by your school everyday while going to work and you know which brick was relaid the month before OR
3. You do not care much for those childhood memories – you work in the same place as you grew up! OR
4. Err….You are still in school…Is that possible? Well, it could be. I mean, Err, maybe you were a good student and, Err, you just loved studying so much that you decided to stay back!
That’s believable, c’mon!

Anyways, in the not-so-recent past, I had this wonderful opportunity to travel to Kolkata. More than being excited for the reason to go to Kolkata, I was teeming with joy at the prospect of a possible trip to Durgapur – the place where I was born, went to school, spent my childhood, had my first crush, saw my first failure, my first achievement, had my first(and last) pooping-in-my-pants-in-school experience, made friends, cried, laughed, and lived!

I could make it only a half-day trip. But to set foot in Durgapur in the wee hours of that morning, after almost a decade, was to say the least, poignant. While on the mini-bus (the cheapest mode of travel there) to my colony (CMERI), everything I saw seemed to tell me a story long-forgotten, but which was once part of my being (and probably still is). The colony where I grew up, the apartment blocks, the huge playground in front, the grocery shops, my school, the market place – it was all the same, except a little worn-out. Maybe I had expected it to look the way as I only knew it did – in my memories. Reality had a different look though. And yet, when I walked up the stairs of the apartment block where I grew up and stood in front of the house, even a slightly ajar door could not make me walk up to and knock on it. I so wanted to go in and see that home where I had taken my first steps, played cricket with my father and brother, spent time with my mother in the kitchen, but I just could not. Or maybe I did not. I still wonder why – maybe I did not want my memories to be tainted with colors of the present. I think that is what it was.

Years of city-living and “cosmo” thinking had probably buried the innocence that was once Durgapur for me.

It all came rushing by though, when in an internet parlor, the owner, on realizing I used to live there as a kid, exclaimed happily, “Ohh..tho tumi Durgapur-er chhele? Bah! Daarun tho!”. (Ohh, you are Durgapur’s boy? Wow! Great!) And I did not even know this person!

I left Durgapur in the cold January night, with a smile and a warm feeling inside.

I have now returned to the jungle, which is, so to speak, my life now – of rush hours, endless cups of coffee, heartbreaks, insecurities, temptations, instant gratifications, reality TV, sleepless nights, MTV, mobiles and laptops – a life consumed by the endless circle of wants, needs and desires – by products of a lifestyle obsession. But I have made a promise to myself that I am going to re-live a couple of days of that innocence once more – am going to see that sun rise from above the distant place which I thought was the farthest I could ever go, the dew drops on the playground early in the morning that made everything look so green, listen to the silence that was almost a way of life and smell the night fog – I am going to return to my childhood, if not for one fleeting moment.

…………or, maybe I could just get that Tintin collection on Amazon! It’s a steal!
Heart is after all a child G, aren’t it or not? :)

P.S : For the uninitiated and the majority who have started to think that I may have acquired a speech impediment, this is the much too literal (and phonetic) translation of the popular “Dil to bachcha hai ji”, from Ishqiya.

P.P.S : A.D.D.A stands for Asansol Durgapur Development Authority. However, in common Bengali parlance, it refers to “hanging around with your friends and talking crap over countless sips of tea”. And that is just one definition!