Pehla Nasha

It was one of those subjects you would rather forget in school. I was no different, I had as much interest in the subject as a cat would have in taking a dip in water. I mean its just not natural for a teenage boy who loved nothing better than being on the football field to sit and learn that. As was natural for all students in Trivandrum at that time I too went to a coaching class. The logic was simple, if you flunked you had someone other than yourself to blame.

I knew her from sometime back. She had struck me as one of those overtly lively people, so lively that once she actually picked up a snail to admire it. All of 14 years at that time I couldn’t let her get away that, could I?? No sir. I too admired the slime sliding off its back and I still remember eating with a spoon for a week after that. That is another story for another time.

The tuition classroom was designed in the shape of a “T” with the teacher standing at the intersection. There was a big gang of us and we sat directly opposite the girls (some amount of segregation was prevalent; Trivandrum hasn’t yet managed to escape from its conservative straightjacket). So one fine day as I sat and perfunctorily glanced across, I caught her eye. Its hard to describe what one feels in such instances but somehow I kept staring. I didn’t see her face just those eyes glued to mine and like one of the charmed cobras or like a dumb dog or like a drug hazed junkie my glance never strayed. If it was a Hindi film, the whole class would have risen up in song and dance and I would have probably kissed her on her neck. Hmmm

The accident blossomed into a true infatuation. It became so much of a routine that the first thing I did in each class was to pick her out from the crowd. Unlike those space flicks contacting Houston was not a problem; our frequencies were perfectly tuned. But I could never muster the courage to speak to her outside class. I was afraid that the one thing that I looked forward to every week would somehow be lost.

Unlike a bollywood film there was no happy endings (life s not like OSO). One day she stopped looking and then I……………………………………..............

6 pack Moga

Fresh from the bravado of declaring my New Year resolutions to the world, I decided to follow up and join the gym. Sure that intellectually nothing had changed since I joined WIMWI, I at least wanted a few bronzed muscles which I could publicly show off without having to jump to the recourse of “minimis non curat lex” to protect me, as Prof. Agarwal so beautifully stated in his scholarly thesis.

Day 0 – Brought a tracksuit (everything starts from day 0 at IIM A, unfortunately)
Day 1 – Admired it
Day 2 - was too lazy from all the admiration
Day 3 – Tried to rope in a few friends…………unsuccessful, how come they have so much to study……..hmmmm
Day 4 – Saw Ghajini for inspiration and fell in love with Asin; who cares about Aaaaaaaaamir (how many a’s does he want in his name anyway)
Day 5 – Went and paid the membership fees, sure that nothing else would work
Day 6 – Finally the big day had arrived and I went

The day was bloody cold and I reached t gym around 4 (at 16:00, definitely not at 04:00). It is a long brick building (surprise !!!!) near Dorm 18, fitted with tinted windows so that if u want to c what s gng on inside u hve to literally presss ur face onto the glass. Nothing looks stupider to a person who s working out inside. Confidently I swaggered in and voila to my surprise it was full of women, who remarkably were of a uniform shape and none of them were particularly pleased on seeing me. The guard sitting near the counter shouted at me “Ladies time boss”. Suddenly things started falling in place; the reason why all the women looked so uniform. Later when I went in the general time and found enough people to drool at (I am not gay btw, so if any girl ever is unlucky to read this, chances ar that i will still b single, lucky u !!!!! ) I realized a simple lesson in life. If the fairer sex is beautiful, they generally love showing off. Life is a continuos struggle to reach that state.

A cold night’s work

As I lean back onto the cold wall in my room, fleeting thoughts of what I am doing here rush through my mind. Its been nearly 6 months since I uprooted myself from the safe confines of leafy, sleepy Trivandrum to begin a new life in a world which I seem to fit in awkwardly. . All of a sudden, the conversation in the room livens up, suddenly people start swearing.

“F&#! you, you don’t have basic sense”,screams a voice from near the bed. Words I haven’t heard in Malayalam are shouted from another corner of the room. Nothing of importance, I realized, just consensus building for ordering food from CT. The food sucks but hey we cash constrained executives are not spoilt for choice. Once the vocabulary is exhausted, we settle for chicken noodles, praying that by sheer random odds we do not end up having to eat something else.

Work continues, the discussion broken up by comments about girl friends or basically their total absence in our lives, I guess the fact none of us got lucky yet is contributing to the good humour. We happily laugh at each others follies and sarcastic barbs are thrown at anything remotely resembling a beginning for someone (and an ending for someone else, the bro code prevents me from saying who)

Finally the food arrives and we praise God when we realize that they brought what we ordered. Before I can get up, claims and counterclaims are made on the food, opportunistic pigs. I jump up and grab the packet lying nearest me, F!$# !!!!. veg maggi, they have put one past us again.

More out of boredom than anything else we wind up the work. As I trudge back through the cold to my room, I realize how much I will miss these meetings. When I look back on my days here, how can I ever forget the meetings of MALfunction.