The Meaner and The Minar

It is a great irony of human mentality; the way our stand on product valuation and humility changes being on either side of the sales desk (real or virtual). But it is a well known fact that, we always root for our cause and in most cases enjoy to stand on our stand.

The first selling exercise and probably the only one during my MBA tenure, turned out to be a most fulfilling one for a lot of reasons. The most striking one among them in my opinion was the unique (maiden) feeling of working for the cause of an NGO. As the time passed on there was a constant feeling to get the maximum profit of the goods we were given, not for the sake of the exercise, but because more and more we marketed the product, the more we started believing

in the entire philosophy of giving. The fact that we were the one team which reached the final destination with just a few minutes to spare and the one with the least profit (close to 45% profit) was actually because all the groups performed exceedingly well. The best possible profit anticipated by the seniors was around 30-33% but it turned to be a good close to 200%. We were amongst the ones who spent the entire tenure with a very less operational cost (including travel).

These goods were made by women and children living in slums and were used for their empowerment, by money generated through sales.

The Merchandise:

To start with we got 10 items, but 2 of them turned out to be slightly defective-A carry bag slightly torn at the helm and a copy which was scribbled well till the first 5 pages by a kid (evident from the numbers and sketches printed all over) of the slums where these goods are made. But the best thing was that instead of being deterred by these goods, we used it as our USP. We sold and showed it to customers showing how child empowerment has started taking shape even in slum areas and how all the donations from the various organizations were actually being put to a proper use.

The Location:

We chose to go to the Qutub Minar to target primarily foreigners since it was a Sunday. But the strategy didn’t work out. Just like all the other groups realised we did too that Indians are much more concerned about the cause of Indian women empowerment than foreigners.

The weird, the mean and the Queen

Women buy stuff, men listen to them, follow their orders. There were several weird experiences, one of them included trying to sell our products to a policeman, even after he himself on 2 previous occasions, threw us out of the ticketing compound when we were selling the goods to people there. Another was an occasion who was convinced that he would give us a 1000 Rs for an envelope the charity cause and took it out, but just before it hit my hand his guide ( an Indian) warned him that we are fraudsters, he ended up giving us 100 Rs for the envelopes anyways. The same happened with an elderly American where a Sardarji took him by the arm and away from us. Strangely he didn’t even know that person. The most generous contributor was a very humble person, who understood our cause and appreciated out effort. It was a great experience and a very happy feeling for all of us. We used the IIT brand name at all places because we understood the importance of branding.

I used a slight bangla at one place, where a very gentle family heard us very patiently. Even though I am not very good in the language but I was able to connect more with the person after that. The elderly lady in the family blessed us for our effort and we even clicked group photos with the family.

One very strange thing that I noticed was that almost every person we met had some sort of an association with a similar NGO, which they used as a reason for not helping us. The probability of such an event seemed really bleak to me. Although there were a couple of people who actually helped us with the cause; because they were also associated with an NGO, they gave us our cards and proposed sponsorship even after this particular meeting. One of the senior police officers gave us very generous and long tips on how to market the idea and trap and grab hold of foreign tourists and their wallets.

The moment we reached back, we were already missing the entire experience and the amount of fun we had as a team. We missed the mean and the minar, for two very different reasons. The experience, both the good and the bad ones, had one thing in common. They were unforgettable.

Life's fun, when less is more.....

“Hey Handsome!!!

.............I was just kidding. You’re definitely ugly.” – Professor Vinaysheel Gautam

The very first takeaway from Professor Gautam’s class (most of the people are smarter than you), was enough to convince me that things here will be different.

Life before DMS was smooth, but I hated smooth. I wished always to charter into those untreaded non smooth territories – perhaps a by product of my mathematical training, where smooth is boring and kinks are excitement personified. The first week at DMS was fast; almost blindingly so, especially after a 3 month long vacation.

It was a time when almost anything ranging from broken desks to dusty floors could be your fifteen-minute-power-nap-bliss; when the taste of semi-cooked rice after a day’s tire could be sheer awesomeness; when the possibility of getting a full 3 hour sleep the day after, seemed like a word from heaven.

I come from a background were conventions are looked down upon. Scientists, for example have a lot of ego (a consequence of their notion of being the master of their domains). I realised (after a lot of penalty assignments and fines), that management is one stream where you couldn’t do without conventions. As a researcher you have the freedom to decide your time limits, your word limits. But that freedom, I guess, makes you inefficient. Living the life of a potential manager, even if it’s for a day, teaches you the value of time, food and sleep.

I feel that life is a speciality gift store, but the stocks are limited. Everyone wants to grab the gifts, so if you want some, you need to run. And run I did (especially on the treasure hunt day).

The After-Math:

Memorable-event-count-in-the-last-2-weeks

= (event-density-at-DMS)x(2-weeks)

= (event-density-prior-to-DMS)x(2-years)

= Memorable-event-count-in-the-2-years-before-DMS.

Sheaf Heaves (during a mathematics lecture)

click on the photo to enlarge

Unforgettable,
was the day I first saw you,
and went awestruck by the magic
that your eyes beheld. So elegant, so mystical.
"Did I fall in love at first sight?", I ask in retrospect.
A feeling too deep for me to understand,
to explain. But the feeling was,
Unforgettable.

Dear,
Your drop-dead-gorgeous looks,
make me fall short of breath, every time
your image flashes in my mind, portraying the zenith of beauty.
Your voice invariably makes me fall madly in love with you,
intoxicating, as your breath caresses my neck,
as we hug, hoping the warmth lasts
for eternity.

It's the
way you make me feel,
so special, so unique, so confident of myself,
that keeps the flame of our romance alive and delightfully bright.
I thank the stupid cupid earnestly for a perfect strike
through the heart of the girl of my dreams
as you pulled me close and hugged
me tight.

The farther
away from you I am,
the closer I feel to you at heart.
Time, relations and distances have tested our bond, our trust.
Intimidating though they were, our love survived them all.
Growing stronger through each passing day,
every hurting curse and all those
miles.

Affection,
love and care oozes through
every action of yours, and not just for me.
I love the way you call every one that's important to me, Yours.
I love the way you give such great attention to small details.
Don't worry if I don't say it out loud often,
but I thank you for it's me whom
you chose.

Cut the Strings

I looked at his 6 string - all baige.
Those damned half-mirrored surfaces,
reflected my rage.
Luck on him is bestowed
Not on us. Our fault? Tell us.
Yes. I'm-------------Jealous.

I tried as hard as him - or more.
Worked my pitch, my scale, my rhythem,
all of it before.
He played better. He won.
But why? How? - I was his teacher.
Bloody--------------------Leecher.

I see the prize. I get ready to kill.
Sign from Satan. Knife - by the side.
Anger - to my fill.
Scared by the string?
Leave it alone? Let it be? Shut it?
I---------------------------cut it.

Wrapped, the junk, back for the victor.
Nice lesson!- My achievement for today.
Ha! Have your award, Sir!
-------------------------------------
Came back for the morning class.
Boy! has got guts. Prize! still covered?
You--------------------------coward.

"You're the real winner. Yours." said he.
I was happy. I was sad. I was shocked.
I wasn't ready.
I couldn't stand my presence.
Tried hard to hide my tears, my pain.
All----------------------------in vain!



Note: Each para is actually 2 half paragraphs with rhyme sequence aba, cdd respectively. The dots are meant to create a pause-effect , showing that the teacher is actually unsure of what to do. And finally through the last words succumbs to instinct.

The Keyhole

I sat on my knees and peeped through THE keyhole, 'The greatest invention of mankind.' It's shape seemed to be like an inverted drop of water, the most refreshing drop that I ever encountered in my life. I thought I could look through it for ages. For through that tiny hole, I could for the first time see those lovely eyes so closely and for such a long time.

The Magic, that your eyes behold,
A Thousand lovely tales, untold.
The sparkle in your eyes, Oh Love!
Is like the brightest, snow-white Dove.

I wished to say, but I couldn't. I sat there wondering when was the first time I spoke about her to Robins, my best friend. "Ah, I distinctly remember", I said in my mind.

.......................................................................................................................................................................
It isn't even 8 months since she came to our college and she is already an addiction. I never talked to her, actually never got the courage. But I think, at instances our eyes have met. It was on those little instances, that I sipped those odd drops of life, extending my license to live for probably a few more hours. It was in those moments of euphony, that I asked her several questions about her life, about what she thought of me and told her about how much I admire her, love her. I could never speak it out, but I only hoped that I was successful in establishing the mental connection.
....................................................................................................................................................................

I remember this is what I said. But that time seems a distant past now, probably several aeons back. And I have made no progress. In a months time, I will leave this home of mine for a strange territory, which I so fear to tread. I have decided, that I will give it one genuine effort before I finally quit.I sat there, sometimes appreciating her and sometimes THE MOST BEAUTIFUL and definitely the luckiest keyhole I had encountered.

I looked at my watch, it was six, in an hour or two she will go for dinner, I will have to act fast. For a moment I was really confused as to which among the two seemed more magical, more mystical. I looked at my watch, it was half past eight.

I don't remember what she was doing or how her room looked, or where I was. I didn't even remember who I was and how did I come here. "Wait, I remember", I tried to recall my state of mind before reaching here.

...................................................................................................................................................................
Here I am standing in front of her hostel room, outside her door, trying to gather courage, to tell her of my feelings. I know, I have none (The courage I mean). Wait, what's that??

A keyhole.

voice from somewhere: 'No, don't think of it Om, its unethical!!!!'

Uh, right, its unethical, well I don't claim to be a man of ethics. Its just once, just for the first and last time. , 'Everything is fair in Love and War', I guess someone had written that line for me and considering my present state of mind, I can comfortably declare that ITS WAR.
....................................................................................................................................................................

Yes that's what I said. It was virtually a DO-OR-DIE for me. Even that seemed a distant past now. All I really cared for was, I was looking at the most beautiful person on this planet and she wasn't complaining. I couldn't think of any means to thank THE KEYHOLE. The most wonderful moments of my life were only because of its help.

And then suddenly she was out of my sight, no longer in the frame of the magical keyhole, and then I realized how badly my knees were paining. But I wasn't complaining. I remembered a portion of another poem I wrote for her,

The eerie winter dawn
concerneth me no more.
Thy lips-the petals, thy tresses-the feathers
thy eyes-the hearty ripples
on the river's lovely shore.

I looked around at a strange world. Everything seemed so blurred for 5 minutes, I had strained my eyes far too much. And then I saw Robins taking a bunch of Roses to Laila's room, I guess it is her birthday today. "Hey, Wait Robins!!! One of your roses....", I wished to say, but something stopped me. I don't know what it was. I picked up the rose, while still on my knees. The door opened up and there she was standing in front of me and I was there on my knees and then there was this ROSE.

The Sands of time go thinning away,
Black clouds have blocked the silver ray.
Throw off the veil, Let there be light.
For my eyes seek the Friendship of your sight.

I don't have powers nor a magical wand,
My feelings for you ask thee for your hand.
A soul, for friendship is all I seek.
A yes from your side is all I see..............

I wished I could tell her this poem, which gave me company in sleepless nights, for it symbolised her. And believe me I did. I didn't have to do anything after that. We bought a new house last week and guess the name I gave it. You are right, We call it THE KEYHOLE.

---I visit a busy street
Amidst all the unfamiliar faces,
I try to find a face,
that could for a moment make me feel nostalgic.
---I try to talk with them
Dejected
I come back
---I try to join a group
I feel like a secluded drop of oil in water,
in search of another droplet to mingle.
I come back.
---Maybe its all my fault
Maybe I am a bit too dense,
to mingle with them.
To disappear among their ideas, so eased out.
---I try. TRY
For days altogether.
And then.
I learn to ease out.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
---Now every face I see,
seems so familiar.
Every person my family.
Every group my home.
I learn to rely on them.
Every moment,
I make a toast to life,
for giving me such a big home.
CHEERS!!!!
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

---One day,
I don't know why?!
I feel weak.
I need some help, DESPERATELY.
---But,
I am unperturbed.
For I have such a big home.
I go to my busy street.
---I see all those familiar faces.
.
.
And suddenly
They DiSaPpEaR!!!
"Hey wait", I cry.
"I don't recognize you anymore", they say.
---I see all those unfamiliar faces
"Neither do I", I think.
Probably,
the one I knew are hidden,
beneath these masked strangers.
---I feel weak
and again
My Hope, My Home,
is gone.
I spit and move on.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
---I return to my original house,
My first home.
The house isn't as big.
But the home is huge.
---I feel all my weaknesses.
.
.
And suddenly
they DiSaPpEaR!!!!
---"CHEERS!!!", I say.
I have found a new home in an old one.
I have rediscovered
and realized
My True-Home
and beneath its very roof
"My True Self"