A name’s the most primary identification mark of any person. It’s one of the only entities about us that’s both intensely personal and unabashedly public. It’s something you take pride in (not always, but in general) and hold closest to your heart – and it’s also that piece of info about yourself that you’d willingly share with almost every other person you acquaint with. Your name says a lot about you; it signifies your caste, your religion and even your persona: Often “You are what your name means!” (Okay, that’s an inaccurate hypothesis and I’ll elaborate why).

Now, all of us aren’t exactly in love with our names, are we? Many change names in the course of their lives. The reasons being social (change of religion, marriage), astrological (Think Numerlogy and astrology), or even personal (sheer hatred of your weird name). But our names have been lovingly bestowed upon us by our parents, and changing your name would mean, changing our identity altogether, won’ t it? And in these days of inane red-tape, a name-change would mean countless forms, corrections, modifications and what not! Changing what you’re called, just once, can be such a pain in the ass, right?

How would you feel if you you had a new name each day?

Here’s an anecdote. Rewind 54 years.

1956. Picture a village in Rural Kerala. A kid is born into a fading aristocratic Nair family. Now, the once-prosperous Tharavaadu is in the throes of total destruction, thanks to economic mismanagement and a profusion of Legal Troubles. This kid is born as the youngest in a family of 8. Now, this family has a huge disparity in terms of ages, best explained by the fact that the kid’s oldest brother got married when the kid was one year old! Way back in the ’50s, being the youngest kid wasn’t as cool as it is, right now. The kid’s parents were too busy managing his seven siblings and their own troubles,  to give him a second look. His mother didn’t have enough time to even breastfeed the kid. What’s worse, the kid did not have a name, even when he was two years old! He was too small an entity to be considered, when the landlord father of his was losing acres of land and his imported Ford to a slew of court-cases!! Heights of bad parenting, if you ask me.

By the time the kid was three years old, the family was impoverished, more or less. Most of the property was in dispute – the sole lifeline of the family was a ten acre rice-field, and some cattle. The kid-who-had-no-name wasn’t even encouraged to eat three meals a day, let alone go to school. He had no issues with the lackadaisical attitude of his parents, however. Too mature for his age, he learned to mingle with neighbourhood kids and enjoyed his life, blissfully unaware of the troubles around him.

One day, a group of middle-aged men and women marched into the Tharavaadu. They were greeted by the kid’s mom with trembling arms. Were they officials from the court, all set to attach the only property they had? They coterie of well dressed people turned out to be teachers from the local Government school. Apparently, the school was about to be closed down due to lack of attendance, and there was an DEO (District Education Officer)-inspection due. The teachers were hunting for kids to substitute  ’real’ children so that the school wouldn’t get decommissioned; their jobs were at stake. While the teachers were explaining their predicament to a now-relieved mom, our kid marched into the courtyard, clad in a loincloth-style knicker, happily playing with a discarded cycle tyre – his only toy. As soon as he entered, this lady teacher pounced upon him immediately, the way a lioness would perch upon a zebra and bribed him with a bunch of toffees. The kid munched a toffee for the first ever time, and boy, he loved them! Within a few minutes, a deal was fixed. The kid would attend school whenever an inspector came to school, and he’d get free meals as a gift. The kid was too satiated to relent – milk, countless toffees and nourished WHO-sponsored meals were a welcome relief from his daily-porridge.

The very next day, he set off to school donning the new ‘uniform’ the guests had bestowed him with. Walking four kilometers, criss crossing rivers, and jumping fences, the kid finally reached his destination. Tired he was, but sweet promises of delicious milk and meals kept him going. No sooner had the kid reached school, he was ushered in by a peon, and was rushed to the lady teacher from yesterday. She had a bunch of kids of various shapes and sizes beside her. The teacher smiled at him, and examined a list. Then she gently told him:

“Monte peru innu Mohandas ennu aanu ketto? Aa inspector attendance edukkumbo ‘Mohandas’ ennu vilikkum. Appo kai pokkanam ketto. Ennittu namukku kazhikkaame?”

(Your name today, is Mohandas. That inspector will take attendance and he’ll call ‘Mohandas’. Raise your hands then. After he leaves, you can have your lunch. “)

The kid happily nodded.

Soon the inspector was in class, and called out the names. He must’ve been astonished as to how tiny a kid Mohandas was – he did frown at seeing a seven year old who was more of a three year old, but he let it pass and moved on to the next person. ‘Mohandas’ rushed after class to have a satiating meal. He loved his school!

Then on, the kid was a sure-pick whenever inspectors attended class. Each time, he’d be attending a new class, sporting a new name. “Vijaya Kumar”, “Raghavan”, “Krishna Kumar”, “Rajeev Pillai”, “Shekhar Nair”, “Peter Simon”, “Adel Aziz” – he’d gotten used to being referred to with new names. As the kid was six years old, he’d attended all classes and division from the first grade to the fourth grade – and he enjoyed it! Soon, he’d deliberately attend classes, seating himself in different classes each day, choosing a new name for himself; the school was perennially-underpopulated, so no one really cared. The teachers loved him, he’d saved their asses plenty of times, and the kid was too good a student for his age. He was doted upon, and got to drink plenty of WHO-certified milk, subsidized by the U.N. The kid was fat and healthy as he turned 11 – a far cry from the impoverished, knicker-clad three year old. With time, the kid developed a strong penchant for studies. He loved science and math – and he excelled in the latter, thanks to a Mathematics Professor of a brother who enjoyed passing on lessons to his sibling.

Years passed, and the kid had reached tenth grade (fifth form, as it was called, back then). He still had no definite name, but his ‘names’ were narrowed down to five or six, maybe. The date came to register for the SSLC Board Exams. The kid went to the teacher in charge of examinations – who was new to the school. When he approached the teacher, she asked the kid for his name. Now, that question was quite a googly for our buddy, no one had asked him what his name was, till then! He was referred to by his classmates by whatever nickname they chose for him, and he never really bothered about it till date. The realization stuck him hard! He did not have a name to himself! For the first time, the school’s most brilliant student could not blurt out an answer to a question posed by a teacher.

Noticing his silence, the teacher looked up from her register and quipped:

“Oh, I know you! You’re Ramesh Babu! I taught you the other day at class. Sorry, I forgot you.”

That was the name he’d assumed during the previous inspection; this teacher was taking the class whilst the inspector came over. She did seem to have a good memory.

Before the kid could answer, the teacher wrote down ‘Ramesh Babu’, onto the register. The kid finally got himself a name.

The kid’s mom was about to return his hall-ticket back to the post man citing the absence of a ‘Ramesh babu’ in the family, when the kid rushed and grabbed it from the postman. He wrote the SSLC exams and passed them with flying colours. He did well for his Pre-Degree and went on to be an Electrical Engineer at a reputed Engineering College. After working in different companies all across the country, Ramesh joined Kerala State Electricity Board as an Assistant Engineer. His quest for knowledge spurred him to take an MBA while he was working. Now he’s a Chief Engineer at KSEB – widely respected and honoured, even by the Hon. Minister of Electricity, in Kerala.

The kid who had no name happens to be my father.

Bottom Line:

“Fate, it seems, is not without a sense of irony”.

- Morpheus (Lawrence Fishburne), The Matrix Reloaded.

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The Latest Pirates – my movie-making buddies from College of Engineering, Trivandrum, are BACK, with a BANG! Check out the new video from their ‘Pirate cove’, “Sagar Aliyan’s Suppli’ – a humorous introspection into the Engineering student’s closest companion – the Suppli.

Check the video out, guys:

P.S.

To know more about these pirates, check out their website: http://thelatestpirates.jimdo.com/ I’ve blogged about them before, in this post. Incidentally, my first published article in The Hindu, is also about them. Find the article here.

Don’t forget to leave your comment here!

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The past few weeks of my life have been the best ones I’ve ever had in my life. After a series of unending misfortunes, my life entered an entirely new phase. I started realizing the meaning of the word happiness. Many personal lows later, I struck jackpot with happiness – it all started with a decent CAT Score (96.48%ile), which set off a spree of celebrations. There was nothing to celebrate about, really – despite the score, no B School called me, mainly because the score caught me by surprise and that I hadn’t applied anywhere. Yet, it was a huge personal morale boost and I virtually had a blast with buddies. Of course, I ended up being a lot poor (bankrupt, actually). But yet, the lightness of the empty purse brought a smile onto my face, for the first time.

Before I digress further, let me get on to my point – the prime reason behind my happiness ain’t the CAT score and the ensued happiness. It’s nothing far-fetched, so to speak. I’m just too happy about college life getting over.

Aghast as it might seem at the outset, I’m EXHILERATED at the thought of moving out of the ‘comfort’ (ahem) of my ‘wonderful college’, into the portals of this big bad world. To fight it out with the rest of ‘em 6 billion human beings. To even die fighting! Let me make it crystal clear for ya, every moment I spent in this super-awesome college of mine was exhaustingly-crappy. I was stopmed upon, berated, and pinned onto the wall in every way possible, during my life in this weak excuse of an educational institution. All I’ve left is a few buddies – who aren’t exactly “best friends”, but some endearing people whom I adore.

I reached my college by a sad quirk of fate, I was meant to study elsewhere, but a minor technical lag with the “allotment”, landed me here. The first sight was app(e)al(l)ing, the ‘HUGE” buildings, the friendly, super-awesome teachers, the mind-blowingly endearing staff (apologies for the hyperbole, but I’m truly short of words here, if you know what I mean. ) Then on, there was no looking back. Life was a cycle – from bad to worse and a vice versa. A bloody negatively-clamped sine wave, if you would apologize me for being geeky. It’s been so, for the past four years and I’ve had every screw up an 18-22 year old could’ve gone through.

In an optimistic manner of speaking, it was all for good. I learned a LOT. I learned how tough life is with backpapers. I had to accept serious insults to my intelligence. I had to live with crap being hurled on to me on a daily basis. I saw bitching, up close and personal. I learned how life would be in shambles once you choose to be different. I learned how being original and creative is WRONG! I learned the value of mugging. I learned how bits of paper saves lives in exam halls. I learned every lesson about unrequited love – about how it feels to be in love with a classmate for over three long years and not mentioning it to her – being so sure that she’d reject me; (still haven’t done that and don’t intend to either). Worse of them all – I learned how closing my eyes to to the piled up shit would dig my grave deeper.  Now that the end is near, and I’m elated that I’m finally getting an opportunity to let go of everything.

Looking back, I’m clearly worse-off than what I was, when I started. Of course, I did gain a lot, other than valuable experiential lessons. A course in technology brought out the creative in me. Had I studied elsewhere, the budding creative in me would’ve been stillborn. But the technology ‘education’, if I may call it so undeservedly,  killed the techie in me – and today, I’m a full-blown creative. And I’m happy about it!

Doesn’t mean I’d miss college – I’d miss the buddies, I’d miss the occasional good times, I’ll miss the random moment of fun. I’d even miss being in unrequited love, don’t think I’ll see her – she’s evidently departing for greener pastures, while I’m stuck in good ol’ desert. 

On that note, I bid adieu to three and a half years of college life.

P.S.

Came here looking for nostalgia and got none? Check this video out. Made in IIMA! Wish I could sing this song in the portals of the insti as I pass out!

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This is a live-update post. You get the updates as they happen. The live update is over.

The day itself started off on a sour note. Well, as a matter of fact, for the past couple of years, no day of mine has started off ‘sweet’, but generally speaking (i.e. in comparison with others), this day was particularly gross. Woke up with a volley of abuses from dad (who actually caught me by my throat in intense anger ). And dad, who had to go to office early, forgot his room’s keys. He calls me up as I’m about to leave college, barking orders to bring him the keys. Since the situation was urgent, I was allowed (albeit reluctantly) by my mother to take the Maruti 800 (unused mostly, thanks to the Tata Indigo). I dropped mom at her office, hand-delivered keys to a furious dad and entered college, 30 minutes late.

Till then, the day wasn’t as bad. ‘Cause I was actually happy. We had a ‘Demo week’ planned. And today is would have been the ‘Paandi day’, where every single guy/girl would come, dressed up as a ‘Paandi’ (for the uninitated, a ‘Paandi’ is a typical guy/girl from the state of Tamil Nadu, characterised by dark skin colour/loud clothes/loud-mouthed tamil). And I had all my ‘costumes’ ready, and had even worn my flashiest, loudest orange shirt. I’d also taken my semi-aviator Polaroid sunglasses and hidden dad’s worst lungi, and burmoodas for ‘effect’. I hadn’t worn them yet, but I soon would. Or so, I imagined.

The first shock came as a message from my friend Mithun – “Da no demo today.” I got it as I walked to the class, parking my car precariously in the ‘parking lot’. Enraged, I decided to bunk the class, and headed to the library. Chatting up with friends from the electronics department, and after writing a couple of autograph books, I returned to my class. Two hours were gone, and there was seriously no point in sitting in class. Yet, something forced me to sit in class as my staff advisor strode in. Alright, she’s a lady with whom I’ve some VERY huge problems. Nothing personal, but she’s been screwing me up in every possible way, since the very first month of college – the principal reason why I hate college so much. This lady comes in, and puts to display her appallingly-bad sense of humor, only to get forced-half-smiles, and that too, from just the ‘teacher-pleasing-girls’. “Warming up” done, she gets back to the board.

Meanwhile, I get a late delivered message from Mithun, citing the absense of teachers in class. I couldn’t help but smile at the late delivery. As I bent down, reading the message, I heard a voice call my name:

The lady had caught me.

“What are you doing?”

“Ma’am, I was …uh… checking my book.”

Lying comes naturally to me.

Intelligent that she was, she strode over to my seat, as I hid my mobile within the recess underneath the bench. She bent over, took the phone, and muttered ‘advises’ about not lying and crap. She strode off back with my mobile, and hid it within her Distributed Systems text. My 9k worth Samsung Star was reduced to the status of a bookmark!

I was counting each moment, as she taught, and wasn’t paying any attention to what was going around the class. The star was my most priced possession. It is a part of my body – and I felt amputated without it! My mind raced, searching for excuses. But still, I had a belief that I’d get my phone back. As the class got over, I rushed to the teacher. She was adamant. She wasn’t going to return my mobile, whatever be the case. I pleaded and went down as much as my ego did permit. She did not. And before I could say anything else, she stormed out of the class.

I’m so screwed up! Which is why I’m blogging.

The main issue, is I’ve to call up my mom from office, and hence I’ve to communicate with her. And, I’ve been texting friends about some personal problems – one sight of the messages would be enough for serious misunderstanding! Luckily, I’ve the strict no-porn policy, thanks to which I won’t be affected by such problems, if the lady tends to check the phone. But if my mom calls, I’m seriously doomed!

Right now, I’m wondering what to do next. Hopefully, I’ll get the phone back. Hope is the keyword here.

Will keep you posted.

A lot of interesting things happened after that.

So, I walked hither-tither, peace of mind lacking. Classmates offered words of solace, but none could console me. Finally, I took the desperate measure of actually writing a letter to the lady, pleading for the phone – yes I actually wrote a full written request, only to tear it down, realizing the very futility of the act. To add on to my pain, it seemed that the teacher had magically disappeared from the environs of the college! She was nowhere to be seen. Exasperated and utterly demoralized, I trudged back to my class, only to notice that lunchbreak was long over and another lecturer had gotten into the class. She, being a guest-lecturer (hardly a year older than most of us – some of us were actually as old as, or perhaps older than her!), was correcting answer sheets of the series exam in class, letting us free to do whatever we wanted. I was let inside, and no sooner did I rest my ass on the bench, I flopped down into deep, tired, sad slumber. Only to be woken up by colleagues who directed me to the piercing eyes of this teacher, that were transfixed upon me. I was summoned by the lady, cause my paper was being corrected. I went, dreamy eyed, and asleep, sat on the first bench. She realized I was too sleepy to even open my eyes straight and entertained my request to wash my face. As I got back, my paper was corrected and ready. Another failure, duh! I grudgingly collected the paper only to learn that I had actually gotten very good marks (and that’s not a very common thing for me).  First shot of happiness for the day. Woohoo!

Revitalized by the sudden shot of inspiration, I went downstairs to the staffroom to plead about the phone to the teacher. To my bad luck, she still hadn’t apparated. Rumour had it that she’d gone home, and if such be the situation, I’m practically doomed. I was on the verge of tears – well I’m an emotional person, and guys don’t cry. Had to take up a superhuman effort to hold ‘em back. I had to go and call my mom from office, and she couldn’t be informed of the situation, whatever be the situation. My mind shuddered even to think of the occasion if mom’d place a call to my phone. Trudging with a boiling pot of a mind, I reached class again. Friends realized that I was seriously off; their soothing words did quite a bit to lift me up. Soon class was over for the day and I walked out of the class. The lady was nowhere to be found. Some guys had to show their project’s progress to the lady, who happened to be their project guide. So I waited along with them. Along came news that she was actually teaching in a class – I heaved a sigh of relief when I heard that. No sooner, I called my mom and asked her to leave, cause I had to meet the lady. Didn’t mention that part to her though.

Thus started the long wait.

Now, she’s (in)famous for teaching extra-time. Hence, our wait got extended by ten more minutes and finally, she showed up. After dealing with her ‘students’, I went to her.  Thus started an exasperated grilling session. Grilling is too mild a word for it; it was actual verbal demoralized. My legs were pulled and tied up in the ceiling – such was the state of mine. Yet, I forgot my ego and stooped down as much as she wanted me to. I pleaded her, trying to make her understand my plight. Finally, she compromised, saying that she’d give me my phone, if  I buy her Dairy Milk. Guess what, I was so broke that I had to forgo lunch that day. And a lot of bystanders (including classmates) now joined in, supporting her. I was a lone wolf, fighting against a crowd of marauders. (

In the end, she gave me my handset. It was ice cold from the a/c. And the message which I had opened, while she’d confiscated my phone, was intact. Which means, she hadn’t used the phone. My sole saving grace. Plenty of missed calls and messages. Answering them, I walked back to the car.

One thought/decision was engulfing my mind, as I trudged away.

I WOULD NEVER USE A MOBILE PHONE IN CLASS ANYMORE!!

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First year of college.

My Basic Civil Engineering exam was due that day, at noon. I was on my way to college with my trusted travel partner – KSRTC. (Don’t have many human ‘travel partners’ yet ) I was already late and hence abandoned the usual policy of choosing nearly-empty buses only to cram myself into a choc-a-bloc ”Thiruvananthapuram’ red. Five minutes into the journey and I realized what huge mistake I’d made. There I was, clutching a couple of Civil Engineering texts on both hands, with a huge backpack on my shoulders – crushed from all sides by an unruly mob fighting tooth and nail for personal space. I’d an entire text to read, but for fear of my dear life, I could neither open my texts, nor keep them back in the bag – for, both actions would result in irreparable damage to myself from all the ‘churn’ around!

Meanwhile, the conductor came ticket-mongering. After a superhuman effort, I managed to push away a fat man standing on my right side and fished out my purse. A 100 rupee note – its sole occupant silently grinned back at me. Screwed, the conductor guy is goanna swear at me. Yet, without a tinge of hesitation, I passed on the note to the condcutor, who, without looking up from his ticket-machine, issued me the ticket, pocketed the money and walked away. Thank God, I mused.

Soon, the bus reached a nearby stop – ‘Pongummood’, from where, my buddy Praseeth (batchmate at college) got in. He started his usual speech about how unprepared he was for the exams and how he’s goanna fail. He had no idea about the principle of Leveling, which was the only concept I’d learned well. He entreated me earnestly to explain the concepts to him, for levelling problems were the easiest way to score 10 marks in the essay. Realizing it as a way to revise what I’d learned, I started off, unmindful of the crowded environs. After a while, Praseeth’s sharp intellect had picked up the entire method and he was repeatedly mentioning how easy the whole method was. The bus had reached Pattom Junction and we were just a couple of kilometers away from college. He took a cursory glance at his watch and muttered that we’re really late.

Before I knew it, he’d opened the passenger door and pulled me out of the bus!

Praseeth, not always a punctuality person, was a tad too hyperactive today. He ushered me into an auto, and pushing his lean frame inside, commanded the auto driver to take us to college. He silently assured me that he’d foot the bill and that he wasn’t too enamored about crowded buses. Using the time to discuss other portions, we reached college in a few minutes’ time. Both of us alighted, and I took my purse to pay Praseeth – yeah, I’m very stringent about sharing, so I thought I’d share the auto-cost with Praseeth. I opened my wallet and fished for money.

The purse was empty.

Shocked, I took the purse and re-checked ever recess and niche. There were perhaps a few coins that amounted to Rs. 5/- not a penny more, not a penny less. Dumbfound, I kept searching, meanwhile Praseeth paid the money and was walking over to the classes. After some wild goose chase, I realized my blunder.

Dad had given me Rs. 100/- in the morning. I gave it to the conductor, from whom I did not buy change, thanks to the auto-sojourn and my absent-mindedness. There I was, broke, penniless and smiling inwardly at myself! Yet, I gathered myself and wrote the exam. Ironically, there was a leveling problem (of the same type I’d explained to Praseeth), and both of us got it right. After the exam, collecting all coins I could gather, I caught a  bus back home and didn’t mention about my debacle to a soul.

P.S.

Six months later, the results came. Praseeth scored a neat 80 for the exam while my mark was an okay-ish 68. And I heard him proudly proclaim to his buddies:

“You should’ve studied leveling man! I knew the answer to the problem when I saw the question – that was the only thing I’d studied and I got whopping 20 marks for the essay!”

I couldn’t help but chuckle.

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"Everything is hostile. The whole place is now a cage, a zoo.
Now this move by the authority is more psychological."

"Where do you see the "technical excellence" that we are supposed to be
receiving here."

"If Smokey gets a fleeting glance at it or has a gut instinct that
something’s not right about your chaddie, you are obliged to strip and
prove your innocence/crime."

Before you glance at the above lines condescendingly, brace yourself.

*Mild-Drumroll*

There’s a hot new blogger in the block. Or rather, on the prowl. He (uh, I can’t conclusively say if it’s a ‘he’, but for sake of convenience, I allow myself to be sued by womens’ lib groups) blogs from an undisclosed location, apparently within the environs of a certain ‘Model Engineering College’ at Kochi (one of the best engineering colleges in the state, for that matter). And there’s a hell lot of caged emotion and angst involved, seemingly for valid reasons.

*Exalted Drumroll*

Behold, ladies an gentlemen, make way for FakeMECian – a home grown blogger from the bustling ‘metro’ of Cochin, Kerala. And he’s no mean deal; he’s a razor sharp tongue and a style that’d even put Adiga to shame. And he’s the guts to put out some gross injustices going on in his educational institution, under an anonymous garb, nonetheless.

*Drumroll concludes*.

Visit the FakeMECian at – http://fakemecian.blogspot.com/

Ostensibly, FakeMECian has taken inspiration from this celebrity counterpart – FakeIPLPlayer. His blog talks about the numerous flaws and foibles going around in his college, which he tries to uncover in a light hearted manner. So, we have exquisite (and insanely-funny) narrations about a (supposedly) unruly Principal of the institution whose hobby is to confiscate mobile phones and laptops and make students live in hell. He reads messages from confiscated phones, and causes immense problems to the students, who are towards the end of it, screwed. Plus, many student-unfriendly and academically discouraging policies are being dissed in a lighter vein.

Having bogged down by these and many such instances, a strict gag-order in-place within the campus, FakeMECian decided to take the law unto his arms and harnessed the power of the Internet to protest against the atrocities.

And he’s hit jackpot.

His blog posts average 30 comments within a couple of days’ of publishing. The first and the most famous post – “Laptop Ban” – has around 122 comments (when this post was being written), and that too within a week of being published. The blog already has 84 followers. And if the comments are to be believed, many of the incidents narrated by the MECian are true. Students, alumni and faculty have posted there comments in the blog posts – most supportive of the MECian, and others pledging concrete action.

Apparently, the Principal found about the blog and conducted an en-masse raid in the Men’s hostel of the college – but in vein. MECian is still continuing his covert operations in full form. And his gang of supporters is growing.

There’s a possiblity that MECian is just another miscreant hell-bent on creating a ruckus: but there’s every reason to believe that the possiblity is baseless. There’s an entire community of students and alumni vouching for the FakeMECian, who’s now being vocally praised as a champion within the college campus. If the allegations raised by the MECian are true, the success of his plan of action is quite guaranteed – the world will come to know of  what’s happening within the college premises and hopefully, corrective action will be taken soon.

Allow me to conclude with a quote by the blogger – and don’t forget to visit the blog and feast yourself with all the juicy details!

“Vendetta?? No way. We are either too lazy or too busy to take action against such atrocities even if it questioned our own Privacy. We got assignments and home works to do. So lets get back to our “busy” life and do nothing about it.”

A.M.D.G.

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Common Admission Test -  arguably,the holy grail of all entrance examinations in India. Any CAT applicant will have to jostle with some five lakh odd applicants to vie for a seat in the prestigious Indian Institutes of Management, which would open doors to six figure salaries, cozy lifestyles and what not! It wasn’t the cozy lifestyle of managers that endeared me to the CAT. I always had the entrepreneurial dream. Owning companies, commanding minions working underneath me, being in control of a full-fledged company – my delusions about the future were always big. A close interaction with an  IIM alumnus of a  senior- at- school boosted my morale and bingo, I was another IIM aspirant! Back then, I was just a wide-eyed twelfth grader, mind you.

It’s been four long years. And I’m taking the holy grail of this exam, tomorrow (December 5th, 2009).

I’m writing CAT at CMR Institute of Management, Kalyana Nagar,  Bangalore, while all my compatriots are writing the exam at centres within the state of Kerala. Paul (The President of Uni-Y) and I had no other option but to opt for Bangalore. The new system of online CAT required us to book slots for test venues and procrastinators that we are, we delayed the booking process and finally got ourselves fixed at the Bangalore slot on fixed December. Paul’s brother, who works in Bangalore, offered us solace and housing. A trip to Bangalore would be fun, we thought, and till now, things are just perfect.

I booked the ticket to Bangalore in the Bangalore Express (Kochuveli – Bangalore), using IRCTC’s online booking facility. Since even the booking process was procrastinated to the last minute, we had to opt for the costlier ‘Tatkal’, but got our confirmed seats in the said train. Paul had a lab exam on the D-day (December 3rd), and he said he’d come directly from college. Paul’s buddies were to bring his luggage to the station, while he’d directly arrive at the station. Contrary to my normal routine, I was pretty-much punctual that day. By 3.30 PM, I’d reached the Kochuveli station with my cousin who dropped me at the location in his bike. The train, which would leave by 4.05 PM, was already ‘parked’. I started my wait for my fellow-traveler.

Twenty five minutes, no sign of Paul! I panicked, totally. Punctuality is one among Paul’s few weaknesses. Since he was already this late, the chances for him making it on the dot were depressingly-low, I realized. I tried calling him, and after a few harrowing minutes of inactivity, he responded reassuringly that he was on his way. I called up his friends to inquire about the fate of his luggage! Apparently, they didn’t know a clue about the luggage! Now, that was a cause of concern, for, even though I was the one who booked the tickets online, I’d asked Paul to take the print outs of the e-tickets. Which means, if Paul doesn’t arrive, I can’t board the train either!! As I ran to the corridor of the station, I saw a calm-as-usual Paul, riding into the porch of the tiny Kochuveli station with his friend Nithin, bag in hand. Yeah, the din of the station had actually caused a communication gap when I called Paul’s friends; I was actually mistaken.

We boarded the train and rested ourselves on our coach – S2. Seats 67 and 68. The coach seemed empty. I checked out the reservation chart, and realized that female presence was, as-always, infinitesimal . Shrugging, I walked back to my seat and flopped  myself onto the seat. Suddenly, I felt a jolt of pain on my left knee-cap – an excruciating one! I felt my knee cap slip towards the right for a split second; for a moment, I thought all was lost. I was reminded of the knee-cap dislocation I suffered five years back, as a result of which I was left bedridden for  over a month! Before the wave of depression overpowered me, the situation corrected itself. The knee cap relocated automatically to its original position, and I heaved a sigh of relief. My cousin (who’d boarded the compartment to see us off) and Paul, didn’t notice a thing, though. However, ever since, my knee has had this slipping tendency. I really hope it wouldn’t cause me a problem!

The long winded path!

Moving in the train!

The train left the station on the dot, at 4.05 PM. Conversationalists that we were, the two of indulged in totally myriad conversations about totally random topics. What began with Paul’s viva-screw up on that day’s lab exam moved over to jobs, placements, and finally global issues! Despite being conversationalists, we ran out of topics in two hours time, and Paul was soon dozing off, listening to this ‘Best of 90s’ album in his iPod touch. Meanwhile, I tried a hand at reading the rest of ‘Shantaram’, my latest pick from the library, and found myself following Paul’s example. I was woken up by a sleepy Paul, musing how the colour of my orange t-shirt had suddenly turned green – an illusion caused by some weird out-of-the-box dream! By now, it was 8.30 and we had reached Ernakulam. People started trickling in by now, and a few people had populated the compartment. We resumed conversation, and started discussing the intricacies of Photography, only to be joined in by a silent onlooker guy who happened to be a student at a Bangalore film institute. Perennially-curious Paul got some doubts on long-exposure shots cleared. We got down at Ernakulam and bought some Parottas and chicken curry for supper. Carrying on with the supper-conversation, we failed to notice our co-passengers hungrily glowering at our window side seat to have food. It took a prompt-but-stern reminder from a young man sitting opposite to us, to return our civic sense to us, as we courteously stepped aside for them. After an hour or two of phone calls, we decided to call it a long night. Paul flopped onto his top-floor berth, as I lay listening to Paul’s iTouch on the lower berth. In the meantime, a young lady and her cute kid assumed positions in the seat opposite to us, filling the compartment. For a while, I watched the cute antics of the kid, pausing music. After calling up my best buddies once more, I slept at around 11:45.

Paul sleeping on the train!

I woke up at around 6 AM to watch an unusually-demure Paul, indulging himself in silent musings – it was quite a sight! He resumed being himself, when he saw me wake up and we went about performing the morning duties. I had to lend toothpaste to Paul, who forgot to take  his toiletries. We corresponded with Paul’s brother Koshy chettan, who asked us to get down at the KR Puram railway station in Bangalore, instead of the Bangalore Central Station. By now, we’d passed the Karnataka border. My phone got switched off due to excessive usage, and I had to rely on the train’s charging unit to get it charged. But even that seemed futile. All of a sudden, I couldn’t make calls! I had more than 350 rupees balance, but still, no call would connect. Messages weren’t even being delivered. Another flabbergasting moment! Despite many attempts at switching my mobile off and on, calls simply refused to connect!! Thankfully, I was receiving messages, which kinda softened my plight. I tried to reassure myself by enjoying the Karnataka scenary, standing by the door adjacent to the charging unit.

We got down at KR Puram by 8.05. Indian Railways decided to make the train punctual for a change, it seems. My knee problem kept resurfacing occasionally as the two of us trudged towards the exit of the station, clutching our heavy bags. We rested ourselves by the ticket reservation block of the station – that lay by the road. Paul’s brother said he’d pick us up in a jiffy, while we waited. I feasted my eyes on the Bangalore city. The first thing that caught my eyes was the traffic. The city is TOO congested! Beside the KRPuram station, there’s a newly built flyover, and we could see the choc-a-bloc traffic slogging along. The city hadn’t changed a lot from my previous visit four years back. True, there were bigger buildings, and the traffic just got ten times as chaotic – but the ‘Metro spirit’ and the hectic lifestyle was still intact. Typical to any Indian city, we could see cows walk by in idyllic peace, carefully dodging the deranged city cars and volvo buses – even they had gotten themselves adapted to the city. Adapt or perish!

Koshy chettan made quite an entrance in his dazzling Karizma. Long hair, unshaven face, he was the ‘cool’ Bangalore techie, a handsomer version of his talented brother. Koshy chettan’s friend Nithin chettan had also come along to pick the two of us up. After a quick trip through the congested Bangalore roads, we reached the apartment that would be our home for the coming three days. The apartment was new and modern, but lacked furniture. Four chairs, a couple of tables, and a plethora of electronic and electrical appliances including four laptops, a pc, iPods, Television, Home-theatre and everything you’d ever need. To top it all, the place was fully WiFi! Heaven! \m/ The apartment was home to Koshy chettan, Nithin chettan and five other techies – all of them working in companies from Samsung to IBM. The average salary here was a cool forty grand. I couldn’t help but wide-eyedly adore all of ‘em. As we reached, the techies were in various stages of wakefulness and readying-up for office. Some hadn’t yet woken up, due to some  heavy duty ‘night outs’! All of them knew Paul from descriptions by his endearing brother. I got myself acquainted with them, and bade them goodbye as they left for work one by one (bearing a kilo each of axe on their torsos! ).

Day 1 at Bangalore was mostly about sleep. Yeah, we had the entire day to while away. We watched a couple of movies on TV, surfed the net for a while, and got a good day’s sleep at the crammed up mattresses in the three bedroom flat. The chilly, and comfortable Bangalore weather only added to our moods and appetite. Breakfast and Lunch were from Kerala hotels in the vicinity. The food was very relishing and refreshing. I ran into Nikhil Narayanan during lunch, which was a pleasant surprise in itself! I’ve known Nikhil (Quizzer-AWESOME blogger- വന്‍ സംഭവം) from BlogCamp – he works as a consultant in HP, at a TechnoCity nearby. Nikhil looked all haggard (probably from overworking) – even he seemed happy to meet me. Since he had other engagements to take care of, I got his number and bade him goodbye.

Meanwhile, a disastrous incident happened at home. There’s this cousin of mine living with us – the a$$hole stole numbers of female friends from my phone and stalked many of them up, introducing himself as my friend! It took a quick heads up from my sis to enlighten me about the situation, and I did necessary damage control, including reporting the matter to my parents. Though the issue was solved, it remained a splinter in my mind, only to devolve itself into a nagging headache as I woke up at 4.30 PM that day. Soon, claustrophobia seeped in and I felt suffocated sitting in the apartment. It took a lot of reassuring words from friends to cheer me up again. Finally, steadying myself up, I went out with Paul’s brother and room-mates for dinner at another Kerala restaurant. I got back home, fully satiated by the food. After an hour or so of small-talking with the techies, Paul and I hit the sack.

And if you failed to notice – It was the CAT eve and we hadn’t even bothered to open our books once!!

To be continued…

P.S.

Could’ve written it in a single post, but as you can already see, this has become too long! Stay tuned.

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It’s not everyday that you get to see the flashes of innate talent that amaze you beyond conventional benchmarks of surprise! You aren’t just blown away by amazing feats of passion and paragon – you stand stupefied and dumbfound at such wondrous talent closer to genius and perfection, and that too from 20-21 year olds!

It so happens that some of my best buddies have come up with such magnanimous works of art that I couldn’t help, but blog about ‘em! These kids are of my age. And all of them in their final year of engineering at the esteemed College of Engineering, Trivandrum. You can’t call them novices or amateur’s. With their maiden works of art, they’ve literally had the entire town talking about them…

Without further ado, let me present before you – The Latest Pirates and Synth!

The Latest Pirates

Six spirited Electrical Engineering students – Harisankar SA, Chaitin, Dileep, Shivan, Sidharth and ‘Ponni’ (I don’t know this dude’s real name. Or rather, no one does! ) a.k.a. Arun A, made quite an impact with their ‘Pinneyum Palavattam‘. With a bang, they’ve come up with another pioneering adaptation of the “Unnam Marannu” song from ‘In harihar nagar’. The entire song is remastered and fully re-scripted with College of Engineering, Trivandrum (and the entire city of Trivandrum), being the background. The video is very cheekily titled – In Engineering College.

Trust me, one look and you’ll concur. It’s SO MIND-BLOWINGLY AWESOME!

Even professional comedians from TV would find it hard to match up to their perfection. Kudos, guys!

Check out more videos from these pirates at: http://thelatestpirates.jimdo.com/

Synth

Synth was the brainchild of a coterie of music lovers from CET. Subu, Anand, Sandeep, JK and Navaneeth, with help from Minu, Rameshwar, Jishnu and Anand, released their maiden album. Haunting themes, mellifluous voices and fantastic songs. One attempt at listening to any one of their tracks and you’d totally fall in love with ‘em all. Another fantastic band, which has already drawn rave reviews from all over town!

Here’s a track from Synth:

Synth | Upload Music

Check out Synth at http://synthmusic.jimdo.com/

Feel free to promote the work of these young artists!

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1. Sagar Aliyan’s Suppli | Another one from The Latest Pirates
2. Pirates of the Caribbean: On Stranger Tides – Review
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Statutory Warning: Looooooooooooooooong post! Read at your own risk!

Dhwani 09 – the prestigious intercollegiate cultural festival by College of Engineering, Trivandrum, was held on April 3rd, 4th, 5th and 6th at the college premises. Regarded by many as one among the best cultural festivals of the state, the festival falls in the league of Ragam – the flagship cult-fest by NITC. The latest edition of Dhwani happened after a hiatus of three years, and was already the talk of the town. Due to some quirk of fate (or rather, on the persistance of my friend Satish), I found myself at CET that fine morn, on April 4. A coordinator of an intercollegiate festival myself, my trip to Dhwani was essentially observational with the sole intent to garner organizational tip-offs or maybe get in touch with potential fest-sponsors.

I had no idea, not even in the back of my mind,  that I’d get into the finals of five events, including Mr Dhwani – the coolest personality contest in town!!

Satish wanted me as his partner in English debate. But I had my MBA Coaching class at Time that day. Considering the fact that 99% of my batchmates at Time were CETians; With all of them at Dhwani, it would be pointless to attend the forlorn class. Thus, I gingerly stepped into the sprawling 125-acre campus of CET. The day zipped by fast. I participated in the Malayalam JAM (where I couldn’t even open my mouth!), which was followed by the prelims of Block & Tangles and Adzap. The remaining part of the day was DISASTER. Block & tangles was a train-wreck of sorts! We had none other than IIM-A against us, who eventually bagged the first place! The finals made me realize for the umpteenth time that I lack spontaneity and humor sense! Dejected, I went on to write the prelimns of Persona, Mock Press and Ananthapuri Chopsuey(A ‘Potpourri’ event), all back-to-back. Having racked my brains in the true sense of the word,  famished, having missed food since morning, I reached home at 7 PM and flopped down onto the bed.

I was woken up by a phone call which announced unceremoniously that I’ve been selected for the finals of Mock Press. It was followed by a series of calls which announced my entry into the finals of Adzap and *surprise-surprise* Mr & Miss Dhwani!! Aneesh (the coordinator of the persona event and a friend of mine) called me up and cooly announced: “Buddy, you’ve made it to the second round of Persona.” I couldn’t believe what I heard! Yeah, I was one step closer to being Mr. Dhwani!

I’ve always been fascinated by personality contests and it’s been my dream to get into the final stage of  a Persona. As yet, my only experience has been Sargam 2008 – the arts festival at my college – where I royally sucked, despite having virtually no competition. Ever since, it’s remained a splinter in my  mind. Bad luck, my constant companion, always finds some way to be with me all the time. It seems fests were jinxed for me in 2009! There would be some clash and I would not be able to write the prelims of any perosnality contest. The jinx continued till Ragam – I’d to skip Mr & Miss Ragam for What’s the Good Word’ prelims, which I didn’t clear either! I thought the jinx would persist for Dhwani too, where the finals of Block & Tangles clashed with persona prelims initially. However, the timing for Persona prelims was made flexible so as to eliminate clashes, and the jinx lifted itself! I wrote the prelims after five pm, right after the B&T finals.  The questions were a tad different, and I kinda liked ‘em! I tried to be candid and put my mind to paper. I thought I’d done it in a strictly-okay way. But I never had the remotest idea that I’d clear it.

In the second round, twelve of us finalists (six guys and six girls) were divided into groups of three. Each group was given a topic and were asked to enact a drama on stage. The theme for my team was ‘horror’. My team mates were Isly (from RIT Kottayam), Gayathri (Mar Ivanios, Trivandrum) and Akhilesh Warrier (Mar Baselios College of Engineering & Technology). Now, Akhilesh is one AWESOME guy with countless (female) fans and personality to match, not to mention looks! The President of UNI-Y, he was a favourite and almost everyone expected him to be Mr Dhwani!

The next day, none of our team members could reach CET in time. Even though Isly and I made it, the others were a bit late. I was preoccupied with What’s the good word prelimns (which I didn’t clear, yet again!). By the time Akhilesh and Gayathri had reached college and all of us met up, it was twelve thirty. And we had to get on stage in an hour or so. We decided not to go slapstick and tried a serious story, after all our theme was ‘Horror’! Akhilesh came up with a theme that portrayed how suppression of ideas is the greatest horror in the world. We finalized three anecdotes from history: The practice of Sati, Galilio’s fate when he said the Earth is round, and Hitler’s ruthlessness and supression of ideas. Incidentally, I played the villain in all three anecdotes and the finals scene had all the other three pinning me down & killing me. We did a random quick-practice session and waited to get on stage.

Thankfully, ours was the third item on stage. The first session was about love. Gayathri (From LBS, not to be confused with my teammate), George, Teresa and another guy (I forgot his name!) showcased a cliched but tongue in cheek college-love-story about two couples who go on a double date.  The story ends with a twist when the guys get ‘attracted’ to each other and ‘move on’! The judges – Pranav (IIMC) and Aravind (MDI), both alumni of CET (and Loyola School! ) had a fun time crushing all of them. Next came the second team who had a theme ‘Drama’. Madhuri (my senior at college), Saran Soman (Senior at school, Final year medical student), Neethu and Renju Rajiv were the team members. Titled ‘Slumdog Mr Dhwani’, it showcased a slumdog trying his hand over the Mr. Dhwani title against a ‘cool dude’. It ended with all characters cutting their veins and suiciding. Then came ours. We elicited the most hoots from the crowd, for our theme was serious. Still, we put up a decent show on stage, (excluding a few guffaws from yours-truly who shouted ’20 flags to galileo!!’ instead of ‘flogs’! ) The judges tried screwing us up, but we stood with heads held high, refusing even to vote out our team members.

I had a AdZap soon after the second round and we cooked up a quick ad campaign, went on stage, and managed to walk away with the third prize. Soon, all 12 of us finalists were asked to proceed to the third floor of the main building where the stress interview would commence. Many of us were stunned at the fact that the interviewee was none other than Mr Rahul Easwar himself!! Expecting major screw ups, people gingerly stepped inside. Akhilesh, among the first to go in, returned with a smile, muttering “T’was ok.”.  All of us smiled.

I was the third to go in. Rahul ushered me in with a smile and asked me quirky questions based on the crap I’d written in the questionaire. It went roughly like this.

Rahul: Hi Hari!
Hari: Good day, sir!

R: Hmm… it seems that you’re the only blogger here!

H: Not really, many others have blogs, but I feel I’m the only guy who takes blogging seriously!

R: That’s nice. And btw, you’ve written here that you’re unique. Elaborate on that.

H: *Oops* That’s true, sir. Fact is that, I’ve qualities that are way different from others and in that way, I am unique.

R: What’s your take on reservations?

(I almost Duh-ed!)

H: I’m totally against it, blah blah, yada yada!

R: Don’t you think it’s good for minorities, blah blah?

H: No, reservation should be based on purely economic criteria… blah blah blah!

R: Tell me three of your passions

H: Quizzing, Blogging, Psephology.

*Didn’t mean to say the last one, which means the art of predicing election results! But that was my blah moment, yes and I had to say whatever that came to my mind! *

R: Psephology, interesting, very interesting!!

Goes on to ask me questions to test my ‘quizzing’ knowledge. I manage to answer some, if not all!

R: Btw, do you have a girlfriend?

H: Nope, I don’t.

R: Why not?

H: I believe it’s a sheer waste of time, NOT to mean that I don’t believe in love, but the *affairs* I see around me are shallow to an appalling level… yada yada

*Rahul gets bored now! *

R: Hey, what’s on your tee? It reads funk soul, right? Are you a funk person?

H: Not really, it looks good on me, so I thought I’d wear it.

R: Better wears ome decent clothes when you get on stage… anyways, nice meeting you Hari, all the best. C ya!

And, they called that a stress interview… sigh!

I got badly scrwed up in Mock Press later on, where the half of CET literally booed me out of  stage as I sat there as Naradan. It was followed by an equally disastrous Ananthapuri Chopsuey where the three of us cooked up some really arbit stuff. Meanwhile, Aneesh calls me again to confirm my entry into the finals of Mr & Miss Dhwani 09!

Reminded of Rahul’s dig at my Tee, I borrowed Akhilesh’s Kurta while he adorned himself in a stylish shirt. Akhilesh, Saran, George, Neethu, Madhuri, Gayathri (not the All Saints one – my team-mate in round two. The all saints Gayathri got selected, but had to leave on parental pressure) and Teresa were the finalists. I was the inevitable blue-eyed guy of the pack. Grossly ignored by my team-mates (except for an affable Saran chettan – who happens to be a fellow blogger and greatly adored senior at school, and Madhuri Chechi; not to mention occasional glances from Akhilesh), I walked about re-kindling a very feeble hope that I also stand a chance.

My intro sucked bigtime. I tried to shout out and connect to the audience and was moderately successful, but it was nothing compared to the *kinglike* entry of Saran and the graceful walk-in by Akhilesh. Saran was lifted onto the stage by his friends, in a very ROYAL fashion. His charm and his witty demeanour gave him immense crowd support. From the girls, Gayathri chechi too made a fantastic crowd connect with her charming but self-assured style. I couldn’t do much but sigh!

Next came the talent round. I had nothing in my kitty but to show off my singing skills, and I sand Kya Mujhe Pyaar Hai, again, to reasonable applause from the crowd. Akhilesh made up a ‘How NOT to participate in a persona’, taking digs at everyone else (especially Saran). Saran did a kick-ass, fun, dance performance. And yeah, he belly danced with good ol’ Smita – the compere. (Now, for me, she was the discovery of Dhwani ’09. I’ve heard many say that she’s *THE* most talented gal in CET, but has loads of attitude to match. Yes, she does, but trust me, she’s a gem of a person and the persons who know her closely would agree)

Next came the vote-out round. I heard George muttering that he would vote out the least eligible guy cause he needed competition. My heart churned. And well, he did vote me out. Along with Neethu and Teresa. I was Jack’s ripped-off-sense-of-ego. I thought I’d quit then and there, for it was utterly pointless to be on that stage for a second more, but well, I stayed on. The vote out was an informal round, and no one would physically get voted out, the judges announced later.

The Q&A round which followed saw a blitzkreig of *serious* questions at me. I dodged them well, but the crowd started booing! Then the judges asked me to make the clap for me. I counted till ten, and a few girls from the corner did start clapping – much to my relief. I was the quickest to be sent back. I thought I’d leave then and there, but I waited for the contest to end, just to see who the winner is. I was sure Akhilesh would be Mr Dhwani and Madhuri Chechi would be Ms. Dhwani, but unfortunately fates proved otherwise. Saran Soman became Mr Dhwani, and Gayathri secured Ms. Dhwani. Dejected, but happy for Saran Chettan, I silently left the place.

Loss, failure, depression. The feeling was unpalatable. I felt ignored and my ego took a severe beating. My heart bled and I felt my ears go pink. Gobbling up a few quick sweetmeats from a local teashop, I walked all the way home, my head bowed down in defeat, with a firm resolve in mind to come back next year… as THE WINNER!

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First, it was the Satyam ‘shocker’ (as a major news channel put it). Now Infosys too leads the way. Despite record profits and impressive Q3 results, Infosys has refused to hire workforce in the coming year.

Now how does this affect me and people I know?

In the previous year, Infosys was the biggest reruiter at my college. Over 80% of the students who cleared the written test got through, even despite all those bleak news about the US Economy. We were all thrilled at the feat, all optimistic about further placements. However, the placements henceforth remained lukewarm, to say the least. Hardly 50% of the outgoing batch (2009 passouts) are placed. And with this company clamping down on recruitments, all hell has broken loose.

Come to think of it. Why would a company whose revenues grew by 33% for the quarter (which is the fastest rate in the past six consecutive quarters) and whose profits have attained a record high, well ahead of expectations, do such a thing? Having added 47 new clients (at least that’s what the balance sheet claims) in the quarter such a decision would be the last you’d expect from the company’s prudent CEO Mr Kris Gopalakrishnan. And the Infosys tagline still sits proudly in those ivory towers at GEC: “Powered by Intellect. Driven by Value”. Yeah, right!

All this harbours doubt. Despite all its credos, is Infy going the Satyam way? Are they just taking precautions not to let the cat out of the bag? Lets hope not.

Anyways, all my batchmates are dazed at the news. Most of them joined engineering with the hopes of getting a secure employment. All their hopes dashed, all dreams of getting a good pay-packet and repaying all their education-loans shredded, what are they going to do?

It’s for you to answer!

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