The Notorious Crows

It's 2am. I'm dead tired trying to cram 16 contact hours worth of course material in a night. I'm walking back from the library to to my hostel room in a daze. Everything I've read has turned into spagetti in my head. The facts and figures are flashing past my eyes. I really need to catch some Zs.

I hear a raindrop of sorts, just that the splash had a lower pitch and a higher volume than I'm accustomed to. The sound wasn't singular, similar sounds followed. I was walking under a canopy of trees that lined either side of the street and was home to many birds, supposedly crows. The street itself was a black canvas adorned with contrasting white splash paint. A more careful examination and the paint at many places was fresh and wet. I was walking on bird droppings. The ominous sounds continued, the crows were at it, dead into the night, clearing their systems with no forewarning to the passerbys. Splash, it must've been a few meters ahead, towards the right side of the road; another splash, must have been behind me, but it wasn't too far; a drop falls right in front of me, the splash sound follows; I realize I'm under fire.

I dash right and left, left and right. The drops follow, as if predicting my location at a future time instant and accordingly releasing their load. It's as if one missed and communicated it to the birds ahead who, having readied their intestines, were waiting to attack me, the harmless worked-up student, and have a few laughs, or maybe chirps, at. I was helpless, outnumbered and void of strategy. Luckily, I had the support of supposedly superior gray matter, that went into defensive mode trying to dodge droppings by deciphering the splash pattern on the street and randomly choosing the next location my foot should land on so as to minimize chances of a soiled t-shirt or worse still soiled hair with residual fluids flowing down on my face.

I made it safely this time. But something tells me, the crows have made a note of my escape. The next time my invisible enemies see me walking alone in the middle of the night after a long day of mostly day dreaming and a little reading, they will have their way. But I can bear a little inconvenience, if it truly brings joy and, maybe a sense of victory, to a lot other creatures.

Tests, Grades and the Whole Sha-bang, Again

I'm taking my first set of tests at B-school. Takes me back at least five years. Just that here, there is an entire support system provided by professors, tutors walking us through sample sets, other 2nd year students chipping in with tips and suggestions, colleagues uploading solutions or leaving them at the local photocopier, information being broadcast over instant messengers, everyone pulling and pushing everyone else to, somehow, write something respectable in that hour or 2 in the exam halls.

The competition is fierce, but it's a respite from the real world. It's a small contained system, the competition is internal, the competitors have recognisible faces and after the tests we all share lunch on the same table.

The grades make for more than just bragging rights. Line the students up. How do you pick and choose for your organization? Since no other parameter is quite as measurable and comparable across the board, just assume CGPA is an indication of how well someone will contribute to your organization, sort and pick your workforce. The Lords of today are I-Banking and Consulting. We are yours for the taking.

It's fun answering tests when they've lost the sanctity they once enjoyed back in school. The simile I've found fitting is: grades and degrees are like visas to enter highrises where, otherwise, the receptionist would have shooed you away. So, you got a visa to enter, what now? Did anyone tell you what to do once you've reached there? From my experience, it's all about who gets the corner office on the top floor with the river side view and the ex-"Miss So-and-so High School" secretary, first.

To the Unsung Heroes of Mother Earth

I've been frequenting the library the past couple weeks just to learn enough to save face in the upcoming tests. We have to leave our bags at the reception and collect it while we leave. Last night, when I was leaving the library after some study and a lot of napping, one of the staff members who mans the reception late at night said something to the effect "We have 2 years to know each other and become friends". The warmth touched a cord. Till then, I just kept communication limited to the common courtesies, just so I can approach them in the future when and if I ever I need anything. Now, this kind old man extended a hand of friendship. I'm embarassed to say I actually did a quick economic benefit analysis before my emotional self took over and respectfully accepted the offer and reciprocated by striking a conversation.

To have a meaningful conversation, I'm quite sure now, you have to look beyond labels. In the next 30 minutes, I got a window into how life at my B-school was 35 years ago. This staff member was a butler in the men's dormitory. The student strength back then was less than a third of what it is today, the staff treated the students like family, the students, who were a lot less busy then, reciprocated by involving the staff in sports and cultural activities. Today, thanks to capitalism and globalization, every one is more independent and he or she has his or her own agenda, hence relationships are rather loosely cohesive bonds compared to the past.

These staff members are our unsung heroes. The receptionist, whose name I haven't yet cared to know or remember, but who is serving me today and has served 1000s like me in the past 40 years, is one of them. While I dream of taking over the world, I'll climb over many shoulders and step on many feet. His is one of them, but something tells me, he won't mind, he'll be happy seeing me rise and succeed, while he continues serving the next lots of wannabe managers. In his magnanimity, he has shown that he and his fellows are indeed greater than what I ever dream to be.

Down Memory Lane: Beach Volleyball

The sand, the sun, the surf, the cool breeze, the net, the partially deflated volleyball, 6 people with limbs in working condition and I'm in love. There have been defining moments of elation in this rather unexciting life and beach volleyball has clearly been one of them.

For a while, I used to think that it was the girls in swimsuits who lined the shore that created the ambience and tickled my brain cells with suggestions that my next bump shot would have them all swarming around me. Turns out, it wasn't, in fact it had nothing to do with the ambience. It did have something to do with the sand, though. The fact that sand absorbs much of the shock during a fall allows real players (like me, of course ;)) to extend ourselves and go for plays we otherwise would never have even considered after judging trajectory. Those rare moments of shear brilliance (Kodak moments, if I may) were enough to pump up the "thrill" hormones to levels rarely precedented.

Two games stand out, more than others. A friendly game against a group of latin men. They jokingly waged their women on the game. I have a feeling our appearances were deceptive, they should've waged something they could actually keep their word with. Something about our race that keeps us in the competition: what we lack in aggression, we make up by quickly adapting strategy. We won, hands down, they left, with their women, of course, we figured one loss was more than they could bear.

The next was against a group of Pakistani men. They were smarter than our previous opponents, they didn't wage their women. The game had some elements of an India Pakistan World Cup match. No tobacco companies were there to sponsor our little battle, nor was it being broadcast over the air-waves, yet there is too much history across the borders over the past 50+ years that we had to defend. The outcome should be obvious by now. Let me put it this way, inspite of losing more games than I've won, I don't quite remember much of any of them.

If I had my priorities straight I would never have left the beach volleyball courts. Alas, I have dreams of shutting myself in tall buildings with thick glass walls in the center of congested commercial districts. Memory lane consists of stuff I would've done in another life, where desires and thoughts are simple and real.

Accounting and it's Perks

I didn't quite appreciate the importance of knowing the ABCs of accounting till I began attending this core course in the 1st term curriculum. My experience has been that people are usually casual about minding their own finances. Work usually expands to occupy the time available, and finances are checked merely to make sure that the savings haven't nose dived, we haven't become a victim of identity theft, and, of course, to deposit paychecks, pay bills and file tax returns. Anything beyond this can be characterized as co-incidental, maybe even unusual.

Accounting brings in structure to understanding money. You can actually value everything you possess (assets/liabilities), have made (income), gained (gain), spent (expense) and lost (loss). Every home should have its own balance sheet and income statement. I don't mean to overwhelm you with CA/CPA jargon so first let me brief you on these terms. Balance sheets give you a snapshot of what you currently possess. Assets are possessions that'll result in future economic inflow and liabilities are possessions that'll result in future economic outflow. Income statements, on the other hand, can help you monitor how you earn and spend your resources over time.

To some extent, I find myself reiterating Kiyosaki from "Rich Dad, Poor Dad", nevertheless I will continue with my thesis. Ultimately, we all work to make our paychecks. That money stacked in currency cash is steadily losing value. Likewise, many assets depreciate in value over time. We can't avoid taxes, just like we can't escape death, in life. The amount of money in this world is continuously increasing, and, hence, our share of wealth is continuously decreasing. To maintain a net worth and certain level of purchasing power, there has to be a conscious effort to comprehend the health and the future potential of our finances.

Inspite of coming from a modest family, W. Buffett was sure at the tender age of 25 that he doesn't have to work to make money, on the contrary, money can work for him to make more money. The lesson: use your money wisely, it can do more for you than buy you popcorn and tickets to your favorite movie show.

Starting A New Religion

For most mortals, the hierarchy probably is: money, women and, most of all, power. I guess this is sexist, females might have a slightly different set and order that I'm not quite aware of. Anyhow, while most corporations are trying to maximize profit, they are operating more in the lowest rung of the hierarchy I mentioned. What if I want to move up? Hugh Hefner's company is strong in the middle rung, Sonia Gandhi's party is strong in the highest rung. I'm looking for short-cuts to the highest rung. Something tells me, in a world where information is power and in a region where faith and reason blend together, crafting a religion (with a limited mass appeal and a loyal following, read Scientology) can actually take a nobody like me to a Godly status, albeit for a short period of time, till the hollowness is exposed. I guess that's what it's all about, be God for a day, maybe 2? While established religions survive the test of time because their philosophy is based on the absolute truth or knowledge passed down by immortals, or realizations concluded by the higher mortals, there still is enough space for little players like me. The founder of the religion "Dera Sachcha Sauda" or "Your Real Deal" has proven so, and he didn't even try to hide his intentions while at it ;)

Down Memory Lane: Hollywood Blvd and Rodeo Dr.

I went for my last walk down the "Walk of Fame" and Rodeo Dr. a month and a half ago. Behind the thick glass windows or the thick doors on either side of these streets are worlds of fantasy that I used to run to stand in front of, just to escape reality for a while, and catch a glimpse of the dreams these places represented. The colors, the lights, the faces and figures, the designerwear and the displays, the flashy signs, the stars on sidewalk and the Hollywood it's symbolic of, the glamor and the dreams it all sells, I was and still am caught up in the entire web. I should've joined the ranks of the wannabes there, could've always claimed to be writing a script for the next big blockbuster, instead I just stood and watched quietly, from a distance, hoping and waiting that someday a sugar mama, blinded by my aura, would take me on a twirl around wonderland ;)

Putting Processes and Protocols in Place

How do you generate momentum in an organization?

It's interesting to see a few hundred 23-24 year olds (2nd yr students) juggling, besides their own academics, tutorials for us, recruitment and related information dissemination sessions, running some 18-19 clubs, 3 of which hold festivals over the year, the b-school fest actually seeking ISO certification! The system has evolved over the years, each subsequent year contributors incrementally improve it and move on, picking up the trade, working on it and passing it on. Over 40+ years of dedicated efforts, and the system runs perfectly on its own now, no matter what sort of students seek admission, they are assimilated in and the ball continues rolling. Sharing a common vision and mission and being dedicated to it, and no problem is intractable.

Economic and Political History

Today was the last day of this 1/2 term course. I did doze off a few times but otherwise the classes put many things into perspective. The economy post Indian independence wasn't simply Nehru's brainchild, or an overlay of the USSR model onto Indian geography, but an economy that bore from the feedback of the Indian entrepreneurs in west India (the parsis - read Tatas - and the gujaratis/marathis/marwadis - read Birlas). While the British killed industry in east India by monopolistic policies, forcing the marvadis there to take up new roles as zamindars and later traders of British goods in India, they grew Indian capitalists in west India, as importers of British machinery and actual indigenous producers of goods. Industrialists there called the shots, when Nehru came into power, asking for a state aided, protectionist government to grow the Indian industry which was currently in its infancy. So followed license-raj, the corruption that came along, the public sector companies, to fill the supply-demand gap and later to nationalize sick private companies so as to prevent further unemployment.

Things have come a long way today. Capitalism has picked up momentum. Hopefully, a leaner, thinner, more efficient bureaucracy will follow. I guess, many lives will be wasted making that happen, but just like I'm bearing the fruits of generations and generations of hard work and sacrifice, I'll just be doing my bit before I perish.

Group Dynamics

How do you make sum of the parts greater than the whole? No clue. I've been the quiet follower, the boisterous leader, sometimes the efforts met with absolute euphoria, but other times it's a: "Thank God it's over.", "I ain't working here again.", or even "Get out of my face." I guess there isn't a formula for success, or there is, and it's been eluding me all this while, but somehow, the greater conclusion I'm reaching is just to learn from these bitter-sweet experiences, and start again, each time, hopefully a bit wiser and confident, and not haughtier nor a pessimist.

I'll be a part of many groups in the times to come. Some teammates will leave a mark with their commitment and discipline, others will leave bad memories with their shameless freeriding. I've got no time to worship one or complain about the other.

Mr. Ubhi and B2C business in the world of Web 2.0

I met a smart guy today, Mr Ubhi. I picked him up at the airport today when he flew in from Mumbai to present a talk on "creating a buzz around a start-up" at our B-school as part of an Entrepreneurship workshop that happened this weekend. The candid hour-and-a-half long conversation in the cab from the airport to the institute was most insightful. Btw, he runs b-u-r-r-p-dot-com.

Mr. Ubhi is my age, born and raised in northern CA with prior work experience in LBO and private equity. Last year, the entrepreneurship bug bit him and he along with a colleague, a veteran in software and IT, landed in Mumbai to join the leagues of Balakrishnan(rediff), Bikhchandani(naukri), Bajaj(founded ebay-india), and Mittal(shaadi). It might be a while to go, but if he plays his cards right, you never know.

Tidbits I picked up: Gurgaon is cheaper than Mumbai (40-50% of the cost). Web hosting isn't a commodity in India yet, so host in US/Singapore. It's best to have close control on your product, outsourcing isn't always the best option. Your first team members have to be rock-stars, not those with padded resumes, but those hungry and passionate to be part of your greater vision. Hiring the right talent is difficult, but don't lower your bar. Web 2.0 is more about democratizing the web, rather than the tools/technologies in use like ajax. The actual internet user population in India is about 20 million, out of which only half are frequent users. Banner ads in India are charged on impression count and not on click count. There are many ways to market a product, try guerilla marketing, secretly hiring people, members of target communities, to subtly promote your brand in the specific locale. Deterrents to start-up in India are red-tape and having to grease hands to achieve basic infrastructure. Angel investment comes handsomely in the SFO bay area. VC in India is actually being used as private equity, i.e. even in businesses like restaurants. Strategic tie-ups with partners like Google is possible, to provide niche content and in return receive their traffic. Social networking in India has a skewed male-female ratio and members are mostly out to honk their horns at profiles with good photos. Mr. Ubhi's website will use SMS in a big way, with the ubiquity of cell-phones and messaging becoming a universal skill, it's an excellent mechanism to target a larger base. With the lack of structure in information in India (like postal addresses using "opposite Amitabh Bachchan's bungalow"), it's important to use natural language to communicate with the customer base. Lots of players in India are trying to copy successful models from the US and implement them in India, without realizing that the business climate is very different.

Core dumpped.

"Have you heard of anyone dying from Entrepreneurship?"

M. Murthy raised this very innocent question during his 2-hour long talk at our school. Turns out, I reduced my chances of becoming an entrepreneur when I joined B-school. The hype of placements will soon take over my entire existence, and, come November, I will again try to prove to potential employers how I am the best they will get to make their spreadsheets and presentations!

Entrepreneurship is about heart, it's about courage, it's about living-on-the-edge, it's about taking a risk, failing, getting up and starting all over again. It's about passion, it's about pursuing your dreams, your hobbies, it's about living your life the way it was meant to be lived, freely. Sounds great, but when those 100+ brand name companies line up for placements, I'll want to make a dollar more than all my colleagues are offered. Somehow, pay-packages command more bragging rights than CGPA does. Ah, bummer, myopia will stunt the "Steve Jobs" in me.

Listening to M. Murthy and P. Kakkar, it was obvious that there is long way to go. School only teaches you skills, most of which might even go unused for the rest of my career. I'm quite sure, most of the skills I'll utilize at work, I'll pick up in the office premises. To create employment for myself, I'll have to identify a market, go deep into understanding it, its behavior, its shortcomings and requirements. Without paying heed to all the noise about "hot sectors/industries/firms", I have to opt for the less treaded path and, thereon, follow my instincts. Something tells me, parents and instincts know best. The rest should follow: a product to satisfy the void and operations to manufacture, distribute and sell it. Let's see if I get to experience this first hand, or if it'll all be vicarious.

Till then, I guess, I should enjoy the journey. At least I've delayed the miseries of the real world for 2 more years. It would have been much better though if Financial Accounting made more sense and all the girls in my class met me on a weekly basis ;)

Randomness

Finally, I know the legend behind how Pascal was the first to formally derive a methodology to determine the probability that a gambler will win a game that counted the number of tosses it took before 2 sixes show up on a pair of dice. Turns out, gambling gave birth to the theory of probability we study today. Something tells me I'll learn the concepts better in Vegas (on someone else's money, of course) than I will in a classroom. The MIT Blackjack team made millions in the 1990s by conquering the casinos in Vegas. Anyone with some moolah seeking statistics students to beat the dealers in Macau?

So much for non-determinism and uncertainty. I hope there would be some certainty in my graduating from school.

The 8am Class

It's 7:15am. Not like it's 4:15 or anything, but considering the fact that not too long ago 10am was early to work, I think it's super early. I snooze, the alarm rings again, I snooze, a neighbor bangs my door pitying my inability to attend 1 of the 2 classes I'm required to on a weekday, I gaze up, it's already late.

A quick dash, the morning sprint when you least want to run it, and I am in my assigned seat staring at the professor, happy to be in, just in time. Some new concepts in behavioral sciences: values, attitudes, behavior, conflict/dissonance, some psycho-sociological (is this a word?) experiments and their outcomes. I periodically tune out. It's not the subject, it's just a habit. Reflect on how things have changed over the past month, 4 weeks ago I was working in a lab on the other side of the globe, I sold all my possessions, packed a few suitcases and crossed the proverbial 7 seas. Now it's back to basics, lectures, tutorials, reference books, assignments, quizes, exams, CGPA, CV, a job. I mentally scroll my to-do list. One entry: Better work on that CV thing, goto get every ounce of documented goodness into it, and I can't copy my neighbor's because apparently we're supposed to verify everything! I tune in again: some amusing insight about behaviors among Indian engineers. I concur, the stereo-type holds. I tune out again. So repeats the process. Learning is always fun, just that I can't seem to take in more than small doses at a time.

Saved by the bell, well no, actually by the hour and minute hand of the wall clock in class. I stroll back to my hostel. At least I get to have breakfast this morning. Some good did come out of getting up.

And so the days pass by. My dreams of becoming the dashing, ever so popular, rich, smart, witty, energetic hunk that ever walked the streets, slowly slips by. I am exhausted by all the day dreaming and eating. I need to rest before I repeat the process, just that food comes before class this time.

To be or not to be

Am I just using well-known phrases to title my posts, while I follow them up with completely unrelated content? Maybe. Let's see how this one goes.

Scene 1. 3 weeks into B-school and I am slowly picking up on the hype of global I-banking and consulting firms. I know I am good, and I want to get a good job with a startling pay package, but at a more fundamental level, I feels it's more important to involve myself in projects that matter; not simply those that buy the body and mind, but those that steal the soul. The search continues.

Scene 2. I was heading home last Friday evening. It's a 4 hour train journey. I couldn't purchase a reservation so I ended up going in the IInd class general compartment. Those were 4 long hours. 2 spent next to the toilets crouched on the compartment floor, with just enough space to fit my butt and feet. The next 2 hours saw the crowd swell into twice the number at the only stop the train made before I reached home. Thereafter, a teenage boy sat on the sink wall, another fit himself under the sink. An old man was so tired of being pushed around, he braved the stench and heat in the latrine and sought comfort there. I stood the whole while. The populace was essentially daily wage labor, making the 30 hour journey to seek odd hard jobs in more promising parts of the country, relocating for the greater part of the year to support their family at home. All men with able bodies. Men with similar appearance: dark skin, eyes without expression, wearing worn clothes and a pair of slippers, travelling emptyhanded, leaning on perfect strangers, a few drunk, a few sober, sitting/standing quietly, absolutely tolerant, even accomodating, in these apparently extenuating conditions.

Scene 3: Next day at home, I am going over my old school certificates with my father. It brought back a rush of memories. Somehow, the images were tinted with a happy shade, too good to be true, but the series of thought conveniently ignored everything I would've otherwise wanted to avoid experiencing. My parents, siblings, teachers and friends formed the small cozy world I operated in. The toys were cheaper, the stakes were less and the aspirations rather trivial then, but the creativity, passion and enthusiasm made up for it. Will I ever relive those deep and pure emotions again, or is it all downhill from here?

I will resist the urge to add another perfectly disconnected scene to the chaos above, and terminate your reading agony here by summing this up. Ah, life, meaningless in its entirety, the question then is "to be" or "not to be"?

What did you think? I was going to give you a Hollywood finale or something? Pay up if you want a better ending ;)

I'm back. Bigger and Badder.

The title was just to capture your attention. I'm not bigger, just fatter. I might be badder, I just came out of my quarter-life crisis, and I'm here, so figure. So the blogosphere needed, for completeness sake, moi to spill my heart out. My heart's empty, but I'll do my best.

So, the choices of stuff to elaborate on: I can gossip about people (make this a tabloid), report events (attempts at some quality journalism) or discuss concepts (and become the self-proclaimed know-all, that I fancy myself to be). I'll try to keep stuff somewhere in between, but true, true at heart, mind and soul.

Note to self: what's important is persistence and consistency. In life, I want to be the turtle, not the hare.

OK, before I go off on a tangent, here's a start that'll hopefully last a while. So I'll be writing about life from the "city of angels" to the "city of joy", and my bickering about I2MC (my b-school located in a marshland). Couldn't find the angels in the former city nor the joy in the latter. But life goes around, as the great Justin Timberlake articulates.

Till next time, too-tu-loo.