tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25866380541681830882024-02-08T06:14:07.455+05:30The Simple Guy speaksThis blog describes life and happenings through the oft called 'naughty' eyes of yours truly.Ankit Agarwalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03411907325693647827noreply@blogger.comBlogger20125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2586638054168183088.post-88852660285885687352011-02-06T13:10:00.000+05:302011-02-06T13:10:40.915+05:30Reminiscing Hyderabad - The Arrival<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">The city lights light up your horizon as the plane circles around for its final descent. They look starkly different from the familiar densely packed Mumbai lightscape. The lights in Hyderabad are well spaced, clearly delineating the roads, the suburbs and the old city. The road leading to the airport is straight, long and wide, setting a benchmark that I hope the rest of the city will be able to live up to.<br />
I am in Hyderabad for a fixed period of six and a half months, for my training stint in sales. Then I can head back home to Mumbai for at least three months if not more. Then I can be amongst friends, family and that comforting feeling of being in a place that has accepted you. That is but a distant dream. For now, as I tighten the seatbelt that I never once opened during the entire flight, I get ready for the Deccan. For the next few weeks, Hyderabad and I will get to know each other, like boxers circling the ring and sizing each other up.<br />
The airport terminal does not disappoint. It is well-built, modern and welcoming in a way that reminds you of the staid, thick-mustachioed doormen of 5-star hotels. It does not seduce you with its marketing gimmicks or fancy artwork. Rather it makes you feel secure and valued. <br />
The view of Hyderabad through the windows of the AeroExpress bus in the late hours of the night is comforting. Open spaces, large towering structures and huge water bodies characterize the ride from the airport. On a Friday night such as this, most people flying in are the ones coming back home. They wait in a very civilized manner for the last leg of their journey to end. Middle aged men, uninterested in the scenery, gaze blankly ahead with the only movement being the occasional peeping into their mobile phones to note the passage of time. Young women busy themselves in phone conversations so soft that they melt into the background. Such people ignore and ask to be ignored. And everyone chooses to turn their backs. On each other.<br />
A newcomer to the city, on the other hand, is instantly recognized. He looks around intently, partly with awe, and partly with the anxious anticipation that often ends up in pointless conversation between strangers. I too came to Hyderabad with absolutely no idea of the city. As I gazed attentively to every detail of every road that the bus took me along, I hoped to find some conversation with a local. Someone who would give me some gyaan on what it takes to survive in Hyderabad. In the first few days here, I looked everywhere for a heads up on the place. And the people.<br />
And I was lucky. The girl in the next seat was pretty much open to conversation. She had noticed my IIMK tee and she looked at me with the look that moms give we are up to mischief. She may not exactly know whats in our minds, but she knows that we don't mean serious harm. "First time to Hyderabad?" she asked, and then sat back, knowing very well that she had done what was required from her. From here on, the conversation would flow. That point on, baring the basic introductions, it was all about Hyderabad. Me asking, she replying. The weather, the roads, the localities, the rent rates as well as the best places to have Irani chai and biryani. And 30 mins later, I was ready to face Hyderabad. Only later did she tell me that she was from IIM Indore.<br />
Nights in Hyderabad are a little funny. Unlike Mumbai, this city seems to actually sleep. People disappear from the roads and life seems standstill. You find yourself talking in a soft whisper lest you wake someone up. Even the autowallahs seem to be shutting shop! On one such quiet night, I came to Hyderabad.</div>Ankit Agarwalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03411907325693647827noreply@blogger.com35tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2586638054168183088.post-57016922224148117342010-11-19T23:24:00.000+05:302010-11-19T23:24:23.179+05:30Why small towns rock!1. A day's worth of food costs less than a packet of cigarettes.<br />
2. Public toilets don't have the 'Men' half. Men can piss anywhere that isn't a door, car or person.<br />
3. You can ride 3 people on a CD 100 and 4 on a bullet. Pulsars don't sell for the same reason. They have a very low km/rider average.<br />
4. The average man on the streets isn't gunning for six-packs. Being over-weight just means that you have enough to eat.<br />
5. The movie theatres are all on the same street. If they didn't have fences, you'd have a huge multiplex.<br />
6. You can go from one end of the town to the other in about 10 mins. No wonder there are no local couriers.<br />
7. You can find spelling mistakes in all the sign boards. It makes you feel truly well-educated.<br />
<br />
Inspired by Bhale's style of writing. He writes <a href="http://lotofshit.blogspot.com/search/label/The%20other%20shit">here</a>Ankit Agarwalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03411907325693647827noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2586638054168183088.post-21192674767498355252010-02-11T16:40:00.007+05:302010-02-11T19:06:52.656+05:30Whats all the BUZZ about?This week, GMail users, on logging into their inboxes, were faced with a splash screen and the option of checking out Google's new social networking tool - Buzz or going straight to their inboxes. Very few, I gather, chose the second option.<br /><br />So what is this Buzz and what does it hold out for you?<br />At first look, its Facebook minus the Mafia Wars, Farmville and Which-LOTR-character-are-you quizzes. Forget also the clean white-blue UI as well as the eminently lovable 'Poke'. You stop to wonder why anyone would even want to use Buzz as long as FB exists. Many technocrats think so too.<br /><br />The most common complaint is that its just a medley of FB and Twitter adding no extra value to the user, rather confusing him/her with too many social networking tools.<br /><br />Then you have Buzz's 'Auto-following' feature. The top 40 people that<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvPBHvpE1ZV5AGSnh9xPuHu5kbFve8020MeDfhy_YfrSzSqakzWHGswt0iA0qSWFmLbNfRHDho3hvlA1etYn6w4v61qKZ4bsqJyBKQHQwentC6BAoboSWz2XlJf9oBtJEG9EKpNz3acho/s1600-h/Screen+shot+2010-02-11+at+5.01.03+PM.png"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 279px; height: 176px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvPBHvpE1ZV5AGSnh9xPuHu5kbFve8020MeDfhy_YfrSzSqakzWHGswt0iA0qSWFmLbNfRHDho3hvlA1etYn6w4v61qKZ4bsqJyBKQHQwentC6BAoboSWz2XlJf9oBtJEG9EKpNz3acho/s320/Screen+shot+2010-02-11+at+5.01.03+PM.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5436944476316904946" border="0" /></a> you have chatted or mailed in the recent past have been automatically added to your 'you are following' list. And this list is public. Imagine your wife checking this list and finding that your high school girlfriends have made it to the list but not her. Oops!<br /><br />In spite of all the 'integration' talk, Google has done a pretty good job of ignoring FB. And apart from the option of your tweets being posted in Buzz, theres not much with Twitter either. You can't add your twitter friends to buzz, nor can you use the lists you so painstakingly created there. Read more <a href="http://mashable.com/2010/02/09/google-buzz/">here</a>. And <a href="http://gigaom.com/2010/02/09/google-launches-a-serious-case-of-facebook-envy/">here</a>. Or <a href="http://www.electricpig.co.uk/2010/02/11/google-buzz%E2%80%99s-big-privacy-problem-%E2%80%93-cheaters-start-worrying-now/">here</a>.<br /><br />But don't write off Buzz yet. Heres why I think it makes sense <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqWimSeQmhgSRlMDy8-41as36G0thHq6ggvqH-rM4htmOn2gwyLtDA0KSgfg9xUJe_CszeoR4ERFG7WzzhpHSv-QnOEwBLGHMcBWjvrj0LkORbl4LSKpCijulFqZ25nUXQueIZEsM4mQY/s1600-h/Everythings+here.png"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 199px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqWimSeQmhgSRlMDy8-41as36G0thHq6ggvqH-rM4htmOn2gwyLtDA0KSgfg9xUJe_CszeoR4ERFG7WzzhpHSv-QnOEwBLGHMcBWjvrj0LkORbl4LSKpCijulFqZ25nUXQueIZEsM4mQY/s200/Everythings+here.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5436946698036102034" border="0" /></a>despite a bland, cumbersome interface and numerous issues:-<br /><br /><div style="text-align: justify;">1. You will probably never get out of GMail. After mail, chat, blogging, reader, photos, google docs, you now have social networking just a click away. (And we thought Google was about search !! )</div><br />2. You get <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCwDSRoDFIv4BAPQpoQAlUzwj-m4vf2Tiddo3a1lDiXY2fSo1VlKL4MDU0rl5awdWKIBye2TVh_auclu1X4WO2SC2FfOpQ4E4W071yVWaW5gMsGI1dBpxVbWlwSIDORy0gA1McwofP4kI/s1600-h/Tempting.png"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 147px; height: 102px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCwDSRoDFIv4BAPQpoQAlUzwj-m4vf2Tiddo3a1lDiXY2fSo1VlKL4MDU0rl5awdWKIBye2TVh_auclu1X4WO2SC2FfOpQ4E4W071yVWaW5gMsGI1dBpxVbWlwSIDORy0gA1McwofP4kI/s320/Tempting.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5436944022076844834" border="0" /></a>through your unread mails. But what are you going to do about those 'unread buzzes' just below it. Don't tell me its not tempting!<br /><br />3. Earlier you changed your Gtalk status, then tweeted it and then changed your social networking(read FB) status to match. Now you just change your GTalk status and before you realize it, someone has already liked it.<br />4. Buzz on mobile. Apart from what you're up to, we also know where you are right now! Check it out <a href="http://www.google.com/intl/en/mobile/buzz/">here</a>.<br />4. Its Google! Don't expect them to not learn. As you are reading about the problems with Buzz, probably someone in GooglePlex is already working to remove them.Ankit Agarwalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03411907325693647827noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2586638054168183088.post-29110986054254279962009-12-29T16:31:00.020+05:302009-12-29T17:23:54.388+05:30Coming Home ... From HomeBunking 16 classes in 3 days and liable to get a medical certificate for it, I ate lunch under constant envy. The three busiest days of the last term at an IIM and I was going to get away with sleeping in my room and watching movies. Envy is not what you expect after 3 days of 'malaria-like-symptoms'. But life's not fair. 25th, 26th and 27th of December. A major festival, my parents' anniversary and a close cousin's birthday - all spent sleeping. I had had enough. I was bored of bunking classes, of watching movies and of getting envied for it. And then my past caught up with me. A few days ago, I and <a href="http://lotofshit.blogspot.com/">Sanket Bhale</a> had planned to go home to end the year. We'd even gone a step further and booked tickets.<div><br /><div>As I sat in the auto taking me to the railway station with barely minutes to catch my train, I so joyfully exclaimed - I'm going home! So much for the classes, so much for the globe and so much for the envy. Home was where I was headed. Finally, after an inspired run across almost the entire length of each of Kozhikode's railway platforms, I finally sat down and let the sweat and the thoughts pour.</div><div>Calicut, or Kozhikode, as I know it, had been home to me for the past 18 months. Every time I went to Mumbai in a term break, home meant Kozhikode. Kerala, the lush green country, the backyard economy where the easiest way to have coconut water was to climb a tree with an axe. Where a two-laned road that could barely accomodate your bike and the oncoming bus was called the National Highway. And where you would get fined for overtaking on a right turn but not for having 2 pillon riders. That is what home was. Now, something was changing. Mumbai was home again.</div><div><br /></div><div>Kozhikode was special. Everytime we returned, we'd laugh at the arbitrariness of the shops. Chit funds had proper offices. Some were Hilarious, literally. Chit funds being what they are, based on trust and the fear of social stigma, 'Hilarious Chit Funds' seemed like a very audacious name to give to your company. But over 18 months, it had only grown if nothing else. Kozhikode, where everything lay on one road, so you were either going towards your destination or directly away from it. Villages would pass by on such journeys, much like two rows of houses on either side of the road, like somebody forgot that you could build perpendicular roads. Bylanes were a rarity and driving skills ever more so. Where the Highway Patrol actually patrolled and the Traffic Police would rather find an excuse to let you off than accept a bribe.</div><div><br /></div><div>Coming home from Mumbai was always an experience you didn't want to miss. The airport had thrice as many international flights as domestic ones. The houses, resplendent in their violets, mauves and bright yellows, always managed to stand out against the tropical coastal vegetation (which is mostly coconut tree trunks). So did the long queues in front of what we thought were Government Ration Shops. It only took one trip to shop for liquor to correct us. </div><div><br /></div><div>It was a different home from the one I'd grown up in. But the short while that it was home, it was a solace to return. On this afternoon of 28th December, this journey with Bhale and Saxena, from Calicut to Mumbai, is different. I'm going home, from home.</div></div>Ankit Agarwalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03411907325693647827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2586638054168183088.post-58874572357655029362009-07-31T06:55:00.002+05:302009-12-29T16:49:47.655+05:30The Socioeconomics of Humour...You are in Nigeria. Dazed and confused at how different the <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">African heartland</span> looks from home. A group of Nigerian girls pass by, looking at you with the look of visitors in a zoo. Then one of them comments "Oyimbo" (Yoruba slang for 'foreigner')and they all burst into loud giggling.<br /><br />You are at a bash thrown by your boss. He introduces<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> you to his boss</span></span>. In the middle of the conversation, your boss pokes fun at the way you wear your tie. You are forced to laugh because everyone else is.<br /><br />You go to a stand-up comedy. You sit in the first row. The comedian decides to take on the typical dresses of Africans and their apparently futile designs. You are laughing till your stomach hurts. Then he does a mimicry of how bosses act. He walks up near you, and in the manner of a stereotypical boss, pokes fun at the way you wear your tie. You laugh out gaily, planning to gift your boss a ticket to this place on his upcoming birthday.<br /><br />Different situations give rise to different versions of humour. But what purpose does humour serve? Why has it survived so long in the evolutionary process? Why did it originate? Do other species crack jokes or attempt comic relief?<br /><br />Chemical Psychology says that humour releases certain endomorphins that lead to reduction in the stress levels. Laughter clubs springing up all over the world subscribe to this view.<br />Sociology explains that laughter leads to bonding and establishes group membership. Remember the Nigerian women who laughed at you for being a oyimbo. They might not have known each other before, but all it takes is sharing a joke.<br />Anthropology insists that humour helps spread goodwill. Isn't that why we smile when introduced to someone.<br /><br />But look around you. Are the people who crack the most jokes and think they are funny always the most stress-free or better team players or share a more benevolent personality. Most likely not.<br /><br />With the evolution of our species, humour has also evolved. From being a stress-reliever to a group bonding tool, it has evolved into a superiority assertive. Don't we laugh at those weaker, worse off or more unfortunate than us. Don't we accept the ridicule of those stronger or higher up than us, even though its not really funny for us. Don't we relish the thought of being able to tell our boss, " I don't need to laugh at your jokes any more. I resigned this morning."<br /><br />Look around again. And who better to look than men when it comes to domineering attitudes. Don't the macho males ridicule the not-so-macho ones and establish their superiority. Don't the beta ones get back at the alpha males by using humour. Don't women indicate who they think is the stud by choosing whose jokes to laugh at. Is ability to ridicule the new pecking order. Or is it overcompensatory behaviour for lagging elsewhere. Does the ability to make fun of someone give one an added survival advantage. Maybe it does. Maybe it doesn't.Ankit Agarwalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03411907325693647827noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2586638054168183088.post-29399904026066565512009-07-10T06:52:00.001+05:302009-12-29T16:43:28.074+05:30This, Here, Now...As the darkest hour of the night comes to pass, and as the sky readies itself to welcome the sun, the willowy fog of clouds and mist continues its journey across the valley. Rising from the foothills and onward across the green expanses on inclines, the fog makes its way.<br /><br />A calm serenity this valley exudes. A home among the heavens, at the top of the world. The peaks of hills stand tall amongst the clouds. A few hours ago they lay at the mercy of these clouds as they rained down upon them. But now, they tend to the mist like guardian angels.<br /><br />The mist and cloud speak of the dark past. In the past tense. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">A sense of hope and</span></span> reclamation springs forth. Just like the billowing smoke in the aftermath of a war. When all that could be done was done. When houses were razed, and people were razed and everything that could be razed was razed. When the perpetrators were left powerless, bereft of anything they could destroy, bereft of anything they could take away. When all that remained was time. And hope. For things could only get brighter, sunnier and better. The smoke stands testimony to the helplessness of the destroyers, of the healing of time, of the impermanence of the worst. The mist and the clouds speak the same language.<br /><br />The never-ending, limitless expanse of mist across undulating land stands as steady as time. Continual, steadfast and careless to a whim. Careless of what happens around. Of what it passes. Of what it has passed. Of what it will come to pass. Composed and unfettered, it glides along. Giving hope wherever it goes. Whenever it goes.<br /><br />If there is a thing to be, it is this.<br />If there is a place to be, it is here.<br />If there is a time to be, it is now.Ankit Agarwalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03411907325693647827noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2586638054168183088.post-72731777687846057832009-07-05T11:36:00.002+05:302009-07-05T11:39:18.016+05:30Mumbai Uncorked...Everyone who has lived for a considerable time in Mumbai knows that it is one of those things thats almost impossible to define. The feelings and the emotions that Mumbai arouses will never be felt elsewhere. It is these that bind all Mumbaikars well beyond the need of any geographical borders - Mumbai is open country.<br /><br />No one is ever an outsider to Mumbai for too long. Mumbai accommodates. In its motley of local trains, in its numerous skyscrapers, in its share market rallies, in its Udipi restaurants and on its Chowpatties and Bandstands. Everyone is welcome. They always have been. An urban spectacle, conspicuous by its huge contribution to government revenues and by the miniscule amount that comes back, Mumbai carries on.<br /><br />Sometimes, this treatment is humiliating, frustrating, even revolting. But, as Roark Howard would have said, '...the pain goes down only to a certain point, and then it stops...', Mumbai keeps at it. In the long run, the only competition will be with itself.<br /><br />The rains lash Mumbai like a jealous mistress. She keeps coming back. Year after year, the monsoon keeps its date with Mumbai. And Mumbai welcomes it. Even though it hurts, Mumbai adores her. Amidst flooded roads and dank winds, aartis and pujas welcome the reunion. Even in the wake of life brought to a standstill, the tumultous relationship endures - welcomed and respected.<br /><br />Mumbai may not be the most modern city, neither the most well-planned. But its magnificence lies not in what others did with it. It lies in what Mumbai does to itself every single day. Day after day. Without respite or let-back. Taking all in its stride. Mumbai goes on. Mumbai rocks.Ankit Agarwalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03411907325693647827noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2586638054168183088.post-69041962181921199392009-06-06T16:41:00.003+05:302009-06-06T16:57:31.881+05:30Behind the Scenes of SANGAM - A sneak-peek into the life of an IIMiteThe preparations start 4 months in advance. Brochures are designed, budgets are negotiated and the calender is consulted. Not that we believe in auspicious days and bad omens, but simply because everything must run to plan. Any oversight in planning and things could go sour. And nobody likes a sour taste, especially not corporate honchos. And especially not when there are 1500 of them.<br /><br />All holidays are marked out. All major events and marriage seasons are doubly checked. And then a date is finalised. The date around which the lives and summer internships of 6 people will spin for the next 3 months. The date that has to be met at all cost. The date that once announced can not be taken back. And then, it is announced.<br /><br />Now the countdown has begun. From now on, the clock only moves forward. Sponsors are approached, venues are looked at and people are motivated. Options are weighed at every stage and projections are made. Made and revised. Mails are sent. Shortlists are drawn up. Then further filtered. More mails are sent. And then one reads "Venue Finalised". 6 people stop to heave a sigh of relief. And then get on with it. Soon, 6 venues are in place. Even now the budget looks more like an astrological chart than an account. There are more variables than Dell offers on its computers. And many more permutations. The sponsors drive is pushed harder. Negotiations are pushed harder. 6 people push harder. Every single day. More is still less.<br /><br />Contacts calling gives way to cold calling. And some more mails are sent. More. Some more. Then one mail reads "We are ready to not bust the bank". 6 people pause to heave a sigh of relief. One pause. Another round of motivating mails and they are back to calling. Now with a different tone, a different task and a different audience. Within a fortnight of the event now, every single Alum who can be reached has been called and emailed. Invited. Another mail. Another pause. And back again.<br /><br />Lists are made again. Final projections frozen. Money moves across the vast internetwork of the Indian Banking System in little bits and bytes. 6 people brace for one last leg of the run - on the ground. From here on, everything can be seen and felt. Banners, check lists, decorations, gifts, mementoes, food, liquor, people, enthusiasm and a sense of achievement. What was only an idea till only some time ago has come to life. And in six cities across the length and breadth of the country, at 1930 hours, over 1500 corporate hot-shots remember their days at one of the most beautiful and effervescent campuses in India - IIM Kozhikode.Ankit Agarwalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03411907325693647827noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2586638054168183088.post-57563575581341080832009-03-22T19:45:00.000+05:302009-03-22T19:46:48.746+05:30"Indian" Premier League?As I proceed to eat my lunch on a typical calm-before-the-storm Sunday afternoon, a spam on the IP tells me that IPL is in the news again. Having gotten used to it by now, I fail to catch the details, but later realize that I should have.<br /><br />A nice hot and steaming lunch awaits me at the mess(Yes, the lunch can be good if you're in time). Filling my plate, I take a seat near the TV, hoping to catch some news on the world around me. Maybe its just not my day.<br /><br />The first thing I see on the screen is the blaring headline of "IPL to be held outside India". I mentally shut my eyes and ears and hope that it will soon disappear. Then the presenter blares on top of his voice in a tone that would have been uncalled for even if some 'friendly' neighbouring country dropped a bomb on our capital. I look up dreading that I would see a horrible sight of yet another killing and massacre. Thankfully, that didnt happen. What I see instead is Vijay Mallya kissing one of the Ambani wives on the cheek and SRK, Preity and a few others walking into a nice conference room. The blaring headline hadn't gone away. It now read, "IPL had to be taken outside because of the Govt's attitude".<br /><br />After showing me a motley of images of Lalit Modi, Mallya, SRK, Preity and a few other very tense fellows, the presenter decides to interview a few people. The first guy is related to cricinfo.com(Yeah, the same site that provides us live scores even in class). After Mr. X has hemmed and hawwed his bit about the abruptness of the decision, our dear news presenter connects to another fellow at breakneck speed and then another and another. I think they once even got Mallya on the phone. And another was asked, " What do you think will be the impact of this decision on the elections?" I wouldn't be surprised if he said, "Looks like we will have to postpone the elections till this matter can be sorted out with the IPL." National Emergency, you know.<br /><br />Of all that I heard in the half hour that I had my lunch, the only sensible point mentioned was by one of the correspondents. She said that since the IPL's USP was its city loyalty and fan following, it would be difficult to generate that interest if played elsewhere. How would I expect Archana to jump up in joy when Dhoni plays the 'home match' against Rajasthan Royals in Bloemfontein. Or for thousands of fans in Mumbai to crowd the locals at all the wrong times to watch the match at DY Patil stadium. Or for our very own cricketers to carry around their dirty shoes and kit without any fear of being caught at customs. As Tapangshu rightly pointed out, its gonna be an Indian Premier League that didn't happen in India. Simply because ... ... the damned Govt didn't show the right attitude by postponing the elections.Ankit Agarwalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03411907325693647827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2586638054168183088.post-83640312321043588892009-02-21T12:15:00.004+05:302009-02-21T12:23:08.870+05:30K by night...As I sit it out the night at the amphitheatre; the massive, yet beautiful and defining structure of the academic hill at IIMK, the surreal atmosphere engulfs me and rejuvenates me. For someone who spent most of his life in the din and smog of a metro, this is heaven.<br /><br />When darkness descends, K springs to life. In the dying moments of the twilight, numerous joggers and fitness freaks descend down the hill to the lakeside and meet with the footballers replenishing themselves at the Amul store after a long day's play. Those untouched by the fitness craze wake up groggily from their afternoon siestas and sitcoms, rub their eyes and rush to the Night Canteen for a quick bite. Sleep does make you hungry around here. Mails start getting sent and mailboxes start ringing like cash registers at an Udipi restaurant in downtown Mumbai. Meetings are called and assignments are delegated. And before you know it, its dark and the moon has risen high in the sky. Those who eat at the mess have already done so and the others wait impatiently for 10pm. Post-dinner the meetings are held - Amphi, Harvard steps, B-block and the more popular Cross-roads get their share of attention. This time from 8pm till 2pm sees the most activity on campus. Then the night begins.<br /><br />As people retire to their rooms to get past the ever-piling stock of movies and sitcoms, a new-found creed springs to life. Donning their new T-shirts, the Counter Strike players storm the LAN network with cries of "Go Go Go". Then the campus goes to rest. Or atleast pretends to.<br />Its 4am and I walk out of my room to the Moonlit Grove and pretend to study the stars. This place has personal memories for me. This is where I held her hand and gazed at the stars and the moon. Even then it was 4am. The feeling seems so distant now. As I search for the moon, I see a tiny sliver of orangish hue towards the eastern sky. I smile and walk on.<br /><br />The sole light at the top of the Watch Tower sets the tone for the architectural beauty that surrounds me. Rows of columns in the A-block play hide-n-seek with the light and shadows. The library stands strong and robust like General of the Panzer division at Normandy. Its mere presence is assuring. An airconditioner from the Computer Centre hums away in the distance, much like the bees in the beehive that flanks it. A cricket calls out in the distance. And then all is silent. What remains is just that majestic, surreal feeling that wouldn't let me sleep, that says,' Why wouldn't anyone want to be here?'<br /><br />I am reminded of Amir Khusrau...<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">'Agar firdaus bar roo-e zameen ast, Hameen ast-o hameen ast-o hameen ast.'</span><br />(If there is a paradise on earth, It is this, it is this, it is this)Ankit Agarwalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03411907325693647827noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2586638054168183088.post-80991376577256805732009-01-13T20:16:00.001+05:302009-01-13T20:19:30.019+05:30Term 3 at IIMK...15 articles on Indian economy, one 20 page case and 4 textbook chapters. That kind of sums up my typical reading list these days. Not out of any particular interest, but more out of the requirements of pre-class preparation. And then i remember, at at least one of the IIM GD/PIs, the interviewer had given a distinct smile when i had mentioned 'reading' as one of my hobbies. I can now bet that the others must have smirked on the inside.<br /><br />And that is how the cookie crumbles. Term 3 started off without much fanfare. No one seemed to show any enthusiasm for studies on the 5th morning. In fact, there wasn't even the usual serpentine queue outside the PGP office for the collection of books. I cant say whether it was the effect of the long break, the New Years parties or the recession, but everything seemed pretty slow motion - as though lifted straight out of one of Night Shyamalan's movies.<br /><br />A week into the term and we face another deadening prospect - Business Law. The very thought sends shivers down the spine. Soon we would be grappling with Article 212 of Section 23 of the Indian Constitution for breach of 'locus standi' ..... or was it Article 34 of Section 45 and wasnt it supposed to be a 'writ mandamus'. Well, atleast thats what the Supreme Court had ruled in TL Bhatnagar vs. State of Madhya Pradesh(1979). Ok... maybe State of Uttar Pradesh vs. TS Negar(1983). Hold on, wasnt the State of UP the defendant... oops... sorry.. the respondent - this is the Supreme Court ...damn it. So shouldn't it be TS Negar vs. State of Uttar Pradesh(1983)..... NO!!.... It was an appeal case filed under the appellate jurisdiction of the Supreme Court over the inferior court. So TS Negar must have filed it under the High Court of Lucknow. But come on, dosen't that amount to violation of 'Nemo Judex in causa sua'. Hold on, what was the issue that we were discussing?! :-DAnkit Agarwalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03411907325693647827noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2586638054168183088.post-13178273427408888472008-12-23T17:43:00.003+05:302008-12-23T17:59:27.767+05:30Baa Baa Bangalore..6 gruelling days... 7 blunderous papers ... 2 wasted holidays .... 1/3rd MBA.<br />And term 2 was done with. The term where a lot of everything happened. Well, almost everything. Except 'learning' .. of course. The term where the CS guys made a google group and ruled the nights. The term where the juniors got placed for 1 summer and the seniors readied to get placed for many. The term where sections were shuffled and seats were ruffled. The term beyond which almost no one studies. Those who get through student exchange don't need to and those who didn't can't bother to.<br />So we headed out in droves... to homes, to girlfriends, to new year bashes and to freedom.<br />This small limerick literally sums up the scene (to the tune of Baa Baa Black Sheep)<br /><br />Baa Baa Bangalore, do you wanna go?<br />Yes sir, Yes sir, 2 buses full.<br />Some for the airport<br />and some for the city<br />and some for the railway that runs down the street.Ankit Agarwalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03411907325693647827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2586638054168183088.post-16669812105936150502008-12-10T16:35:00.001+05:302008-12-10T16:38:25.912+05:30The Rise of a Demon....Circa 2100: Beta, so ja... so ja, varna K-dio chalu ho jaayega.<br /><br />Cut! Cut!! Rewind!<br /><br />Retake: Beta, so ja .... so ja varna.....<br />Varna kya.... haan??.... mujhe TV dekhne do varna main Kdio chalu kar doonga!!<br /><br />Yeah thats more like it!!<br /><br />K-dio - The one radio channel that most moms try to keep their children away from. The one radio channel where an entire institute finds expression. The one radio channel that is ours, for us and by us - democratic.<br /><br />14th November 2008: The airwaves crackled and came to life... K dio was back!! Back to the world of IIM Kozhikode. RJs Khadoos and Jack talked and talked till our ears burst. They played the choiciest songs that you would only find in people's Recycle Bins. And then they called their guests.<br /><br />Chhota Don - who threatened and threatened till all the extortionists of Mumbai gave up their jobs and surrendered<br />Rohit Jain - who so hemmed and hawwed with his gyaan on Finance that Citigroup fired their top brass and decided to replace them with Rohit<br />Pappu - who cracked loud jokes and laughed even louder till people on campus could hear him even after turning off the radio (Some people still get nightmares of that day)<br />Whoosh - who hatched such plans of hacking IIMB during Sangram that I cant even begin to reveal them here<br /><br />So all you good souls, I have this friendly advice. If you ever feel like killing yourself, dont eat pesticide, or drink poison, or jump into a well or smell your armpit. Just visit IIMK and listen to Kdio - the channel that puts MTV Fully Faltu to shame, that has the capability to make your soul squirm in disgust and then chop you up without killing you.<br /><br />Last heard, the FBI have asked for a dedicated feed of Kdio to replace its 3rd degree interrogation techniques. They chanced upon it by accident, when a certain ex-president came rushing out of his house shouting, " Yes, i did her.... I did her.... Now stop that thing....." when his neighbour's dog mistakenly set the receiver to Kdio on full blast.<br /><br />Thats Kdio for you!!!Ankit Agarwalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03411907325693647827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2586638054168183088.post-76588036662961839182008-12-06T11:15:00.001+05:302008-12-06T11:17:50.169+05:30Mera number kab aayega...Ethics, the one thing that raises heated conflict across the world today, seems notably absent from our conscience in classrooms. Lectures in ethics are more morose than the average funeral. Drop dead silence, except for the sibilance of pencil or pen from one of the unfortunate first-benchers who view scribbling as the only method of staying awake. And of course, the lecture from the professor herself.<br /><br />I had never imagined that I would end up in an ethics class where over half of the people present would speak up. Well, life is unpredictable. One flash of imagination, one twist of fate and the class rose to life. Not only speak, they actually fought for airtime. Raised hands and my-voice-is-louder-than-yours ensued. Someone seemed mighty pleased with the response. She had hit upon a genius of an idea. The jugular vein, the 'War on Terrorism' of classroom politics, the master key - marks for CP.<br /><br />One 'gentle reminder' of the power and control reinstated her as the alpha female, the god to please and the Xerxes of Persia. The class writhed in controlled chaos and she reigned supreme. Like it was always designed to be. Marks. Period.<br /><br />"Our scientific power has outrun our spiritual power. We have guided missiles and misguided men."<br />-AnonymousAnkit Agarwalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03411907325693647827noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2586638054168183088.post-24588671347133369812008-11-23T01:40:00.004+05:302008-11-23T01:47:52.686+05:30You have a visitor...Unannounced, he showed up at the door. And thanks to the open door policy that I follow, he came right in. It was just a stroke of luck that I looked up from my work and saw him. After all, these creatures are known for their stealth.<br />Yes, you guessed it right - It was a snake. I am not an expert on snakes, but by its movement I could tell that it was a sidewinder. A sidewinder!!!... on a hill... in coastal Kerela.... aren't they found on desert sand??.... Yeah right!!! When you have a snake in your room 5 feet from you, you aren't really wondering if it belongs to that part of the country. You don't wanna know how it came in?? All you are worried about is how you are going to get it out. And when it roams proudly between you and the door, you don't even bother if it dosen't wanna leave; if it takes over the room. You only want to get out - let the damn thing stay! And, with your eyes fixated on that 'creepy','scaly' 'thing', you are only praying that the electric supply hasn't chosen that very moment to ditch you.<br /><br />Well, that was what I kinda went through just past midnight after a relaxed Saturday evening which included a nice Grand Dinner in the mess and some cool songs by RJ Khadoos on K-dio. Our friend, who I still believe was a sidewinder (though Kalal sahab says that it was definitely a Krait), was 6 or 7 inch long, probably a kid looking for his mom(I am very glad she didn't come looking for him in here!), happened to wander into my room sometime around 1230am while I was busy working away at an Ethics assignment. So from a semi-drugged state, one sight of our friend put me into hyper-alert mode. Girls would die to have that effect on a guy. Who knows, our friend might have been a 'she' (killer looks... hmm...)<br /><br />I had always believed that I didn't fear anything, but life at an IIM has other plans.<br /><br />I finally did manage to get out, call the hostel 'chetta' and reclaim my room. Like they say in the ads, "Darr har kisiko lagta hai, muh har kisika sukhta hai(Everybody is afraid sometime, everybody has a moment when his mouth dries up)" and "Darr ke aage Jeet hai (There's always victory beyond your fears)".<br /><br />Note: My only grouse is that I couldn't click a photograph as our friend chose to roll itself around my study table leg in one dark corner before it was removed. (All the animal lovers out there - our friend was not hurt or killed - it was just taken away :-) )Ankit Agarwalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03411907325693647827noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2586638054168183088.post-28796701058352726622008-11-12T01:29:00.001+05:302008-11-12T01:32:50.485+05:30"Phone lagaun kya... ?"Four and a half inches long, 2 inches wide, 117 grams - the dimensions of my life. I am not talking of any anatomical oddity but something more family-viewing type - my mobile phone. That little box the size of a small packet of chocolate can leave huge fully grown men powerless. It was as if I was decapitated.<br />This happened on Monday evening. Archana (<span style="font-style: italic;">archie</span>) and Hetal (<span style="font-style: italic;">hate-all)</span> were headed to the city to get archie's phone fixed. I remembered my phone's kinky behaviour off late and joined in. Off to the Nokia Care which gave me the impression of some revered temple - footwear taken off outside and people (hoards of them) patiently waiting for their turn. I don't know what this indicates - that too many people buy Nokias or that too many Nokias end up giving trouble(MBAs cant help evaluating every company's future and market share). Shaking off that valuation for a later stage, I concentrated on figuring out where to get myself a token and getting the 'prasadam' of having someone look at my phone(By this time, I had almost given up hope of having it fixed on that day).<br />The 5 guys before me from token no.125 to the 130 that I was allotted were fast enough and I was having my phone examined within 25 mins (even you would call that 'fast' if you had seen the situation there). The kindly lady out there remarked that it was a common occurrence with this model and would be resolved if she reinstalled the software. Having no other options, I gave the go ahead.<br />Fifteen minutes and the phone was as good as new. But the power of a mobile phone is not in its being, but rather in whats inside it. Those simple fifteen minutes had deprived me of about 400 contacts that I had in there and a few hundred messages. In an age where success or failure is simply about having or not having the right contacts, this was disaster. Now I was left with a phone which worked great(or so claimed the lady at the Nokia Care) but couldn't call or message anyone. I was powerless. If I ever got into a fight, I would be holding a blank phone and threatening "Phone lagaun kya?" Not that any fight ever entails any actual calling, but the threat would miss the feeling of credibility. If I needed some work done, I wouldn't be able to call a friend, shove responsibility and then party without a care. I wouldn't be able to read those old lovely messages and miss people (or rather, laugh at them for sending in those tacky jokes). What was I gonna do with that phone which didn't give me the power? It was just another electronic contraption.<br />For 5 hours that day, till we came back and I started filling in contacts again, my mobile was truly what it was - 117 grams of weight - a 'Thing' - not something which my life depended upon. For those 5 hours, I was free. My life was not in a toy that was designed in Finland, manufactured in China and assembled in Taiwan. It was where the Maker had designed it to be - with me.Ankit Agarwalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03411907325693647827noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2586638054168183088.post-32359354035653865202008-11-04T16:16:00.003+05:302008-12-06T11:20:49.717+05:30Of Midterms, National Income and Ethics...Getting out of the Operations Management paper, I heaved a sigh of relief. So far so good. I wouldn't have to bear the burden of being a Production Engg who failed in an OM paper because he couldn't 'rattofy' the capacity of each stage in the cases we had done in class. Correction: "... the cases we had in the handbook." The paper was much better than expected. A large part of it was based on concepts (or what I usually call Common Sense) and there was only 1 question that required remembering what some fellow had said about his analysis of some STCL case... Phew!!<br /><br />One day gone and the two Operations subjects off the hook. Now I could start studying. One look at the timetable reminded me of the horrors of tomorrow. It wasn't even horror. It was more like that funny, empty, gnawing feeling in the stomach when you can't even remember a subject like that - MacroEconomics and Business Ethics. MacroEco, as far as I can remember, was conspicuously absent from our collective consciousness. No lecture lasted more than 45 mins, thanks to our wonderful prof who mistook our drooping heads(and eyes) for nods of understanding.<br /><br />And Business Ethics; well that was a masterpiece. The first lecture we argued till our tongues fell off for how ethical it is to deprive the rich to provide opportunities for the poor - and the prof was mighty pleased with the CP (class participation). The next lecture on we were bombarded with Relativistic theory and Absolutism and Rawls et al. Till that day, I had never bothered to think that people actually do research in Ethics. WOW!! And ever since then, the Business Ethics class survives on DCP (Desperate CP) and even that is rare. In fact, my best sketches seem to develop in BE class :-D<br /><br />Mental note to myself: I should scan some of those sketches and share them with you.... if nothing else, it will atleast take me to within 50 metres of the library.Ankit Agarwalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03411907325693647827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2586638054168183088.post-17854131296981025212008-11-02T17:07:00.000+05:302008-11-02T17:09:32.774+05:30Churma and Rotla in Chetta-land...And with the summers done, we headed off to the closest we could to home - to Rajasthani Bhojnalaya. I can almost remember our mouths watering at the prospect of having daal-bati and churma (and also from knowing that we didnt have to endure any more GDs and PIs... atleast not for a while)<br /><br />So packed up in 2 jeeps, we headed off.... (of course, pappu had his share of nakhras... and he got ample airtime ). The journey from the front seat was relishing to say the least. With Dhruv, Upadhyaya, Nikhil and Kalal sahab in the back seat, there wasn't one dull moment. With gems like " Dumb hona toh acchi baat hai " and " A girl is either dumb or single " coupled with Kalal sahab's frustrations at the passers-by (who incidentally were pretty well known to us) we had a roll.<br /><br />The venue was quite revealing in itself. Holed up in a building that also housed a transporter with a truck almost hiding the entrance. We would never have found it if it weren't for Nikhil and his adventures with the Shah brothers (too bad he wasn't with them today). The guys at the Bhojnalaya were more than happy to see the crowd walk into their small setup. Little did they know what awaited them. With the air of an experienced hand, they set us up on 4 tables in a nice location from where we could watch Guru on a TV that was about the size of my palm. And then came the barrage of noise that seems to follow us everywhere we go. Pappu, Rajesh, Dhruv and Upadhyaya on one table and we knew where it was headed. The onslaught of the choiciest Rajasthani fare dipped and dripping in ghee didnt budge our spirits. We ate and ate until the guys declared that that was all they had... "Bhaisa, Rotla toh nahi haiga.... woh toh khatam ho gya". Not to forget, Pappu even declared Upadhyaya the winner for the eating contest. His culinary conquests are too much to be covered in one post, so i opt out of listing them. In the end, the relish with which we ate the food was evident in the fact that Nikhilesh asked for mattresses and Dhruv and Rajesh couldn't get off their chairs. And, if it weren't for the newly-ziddi Nikhil, we would have even come back without stopping to have either ice-cream or coffee - a first for any outing we've had so far.<br />What more could one ask from one evening - good homely food and over-the-top entertainment.Ankit Agarwalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03411907325693647827noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2586638054168183088.post-12615273063008819102008-11-02T13:43:00.000+05:302008-11-02T13:48:52.010+05:30Had written these earlier and posted them elsewhere... posting them here....<span style="font-style: italic;">Somewhere towards August end....</span><br />9 weeks and counting... ... Things are beginning to settle down. People are beginning to settle down. But the dust has just begun to cloud the atmosphere. The questions of India, of language, of movies and summers and exams keep us awake when we shouldn't be. Or should we....<br />A lot is happening... a lot is being said, and a lot is being heard. They know we sleep in class. They know we dont want to attend lectures. They know that all we want is fat pay packets. And they know that they have a job to do, a responsibility to fulfil, a goal to achieve and a name to live up to.<br />We know they know. A fine balance. IIM K.<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Around July mid.....</span><br />3 and a half weeks on Kampus and one thing is for sure - Success dosent come easy.<br />Decisions at every step, deadlines every hour and an overload of opportunities when you wake up. At IIMK, the server never sleeps. If you check your mail 3 times a day, you're not an internet addict, you're left behind. 'Do it more often.'<br /><br />This close-to-a-month here has taught me the meaning of relativity. Ability to do your work is relative. The speed at which you do it is relative. The number of hours you have in a day is relative.<br /><br />IIMs don't teach you how to manage people. They imbibe in you how to manage yourself.<br />Every single day, a reminder: SELF-DISCOVERYAnkit Agarwalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03411907325693647827noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2586638054168183088.post-19538980263042354122008-11-02T09:52:00.000+05:302008-11-02T13:58:50.928+05:30And IIMK shows the way...They said we weren't in the big league. They said we weren't even in the league. They said we had a location disadvantage. They said we couldn't do it.<br />Then, we just did it. Summers at IIMK ended. The entire batch was placed in companies that wouldn't even visit other campuses. And aren't we proud....<br />As they say,<br /><em style="font-style: italic;">Sometimes, the greatest pleasure in life</em><span style="font-style: italic;"> is in </span><em style="font-style: italic;">doing</em><span style="font-style: italic;"> what </span><em style="font-style: italic;">people say you</em><span style="font-style: italic;"> cannot </span><em style="font-style: italic;">do.<br /><br /></em><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7A3dVSrs1oJgfUMVq8DqP0pcmAcBxtCKf_1WYyjG0Vze9EbrZMeJTu_XF3xtMVjbHQLB1l7wovv6xLgfLUDjWgsJ7MxZGFAZSZYfWqL8BuQ8P_P-ZWJ7VZ097GCSVcwoOvotTMKkXmRc/s1600-h/Adidas_muhammadAli.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 232px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7A3dVSrs1oJgfUMVq8DqP0pcmAcBxtCKf_1WYyjG0Vze9EbrZMeJTu_XF3xtMVjbHQLB1l7wovv6xLgfLUDjWgsJ7MxZGFAZSZYfWqL8BuQ8P_P-ZWJ7VZ097GCSVcwoOvotTMKkXmRc/s320/Adidas_muhammadAli.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263972143913082642" border="0" /></a>Ankit Agarwalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03411907325693647827noreply@blogger.com28