Wednesday, October 29, 2008

Diwali Dreams

So it was yet another diwali, yet another diwali away from kolkata, away from my gang of rowdy brothers who make Diwali a blast- literally! With our 3rd semester exams on, quite a few people are stranded on campus while some of us have managed to squeeze in a few days of vacation. Bombay was comparatively quieter this year- what with economic recession, job losses, stock market crash, and the Raj Thackeray fiasco, Diwali was more subdued- not the usual obscene display of pomp and grandeur that you usually experience on Marine Drive!

My Diwali was nothing special- quiet time with family, lots of food and chocolates, catching up with friends, long phone calls and yes, shattered dreams and a wait for new ones.

And finally, Usha Aunty- it was an honour to meet you at last…

Sunday, October 26, 2008

Ode to street shopping!

So am in Mumbai for Diwali and decided it was time for some good old shopping! N my shopping expeditions are usually conducted during Sale seasons or bargain shops. But this time I decided to go high-end and attacked the streets of Kemps Corner- the posh South Mumbai shopping paradise. As I gingerly stepped into a branded shoe store I was greeted by a smiling salesperson and as I eyed the attractively positioned party heels, he did his usual sales pitch. While I didn’t seem completely sold off (my eyes were fixated on the price tag) he tried a different tactic: he began to flatter me- something that works really well on girls- about how good that pair looked on my feet, about how it was the style of the season, about how that colour looks great on young people like me… it was a far cry from the usual haggling that I indulge in- my regular shopping experiences are something like this:
I- Bhaiya yeh kitne ka hai?
Sales guy- 200 rupaiya…
I- Kya bhaiya, kuch bhi bolte ho…. 50 mein dena hai to do
Sales guy- 50? Isme uska photo bhi nahi milega… niklo yaha se
I- accha theek hai. 75 final. Student hoon bhaiya, paise nahi hai
Sales guy- 100!! Usse kaam nahi hoga
I- sigh!!! Theek hai…
So obviously this Kemps corner affair with its 4 figure price tags and smiling sophisticated sales people was something quite new for me. And it kinda scared me…and quite surprisingly the hollow flattery didn’t go down well with me. I missed my straight forward abusive roadside bhaiya. As I made my way out of the shop sans the party heels, I headed towards my favourite bargain store just to feel better in the familiar surroundings, followed by a soothing one hour at Crossword- the place which still keeps me sane during insane times. I bought the White Tiger and Stay Hungry Stay Foolish instead of party heels- so my Diwali shopping is done!!

Saturday, October 25, 2008

It happens only @ SCMHRD!!

Your marks get reduced after you give your paper for re-evaluation. Not that it changes much: you just fail by a bigger margin…

You call up the faculty at regular intervals, preferably at odd hours (midnight or later) to get more information out of him about the paper…

You run to the exam hall at 7:15 a.m. for a 7 a.m. paper and you are not allowed to write it and you feel thankful because now you can curl up and catch two extra hours of sleep…

You are fined 1000 bucks for some old guest lecture you bunked and you are not allowed to sit for the paper until you pay up. You do a quick cost-benefit analysis, decide that writing a backlog will be much cheaper (250 bucks) and skip the exam…

Your marks in case of a group assignment are inversely proportional your contribution…

And finally, I am done with the much dreaded FSA paper…. It was a case study so we all screwed up! But thank god, it was a case study, otherwise I would have been the only one to screw up…

Wednesday, October 22, 2008

Statistically (In)Significant!

Null Hypothesis: I HATE STUDYING

Studying makes me FAT… I don’t go to the gym, I binge eat, I survive on junk, I eat chocolates and dice creams every day and I find comfort in food! That also explains why I weighed my heaviest during my 10th std Board Exams and the lowest during my XIIth std boards. Simply put, body fat is directly proportional to your marks!

Studying makes me UGLY… I don’t dress up, I don’t feel like wearing make up or good clothes (mostly because I don’t fit into good clothes), I don’t even brush my hair. I just lounge around in my room in my ragged pyjamas!

Studying makes me DEPRESSED… I don’t know what I am studying, why am I studying, what use will it be in future or why everyone is going gaga about it. In this system of relative grading, if only people will just be a little considerate and not study at all, then all of us will score abysmally low marks (close to zero) but all of us will pass because class average will be low enough! Don’t know why people can’t understand this simple formula and are hell bent on mugging up difficult ratios and concepts. It’s depressing because now I shall be the only one to score a zero and flunk!

Studying makes me a GOOD HOUSEKEEPER… Suddenly during exams I become very particular about hygiene and cleanliness. I take a bath thrice a day, I clean the clutter on my desk, I tidy my wardrobe and I wash clothes more frequently because all these give me an excuse to not study. I would rather do the dirty work every time I remember it’s time to study and procrastinating it in favour of a cleaner room reduces depression…

Studying makes me PHILOSOPHICAL… When I do manage to open my books after I have exhausted ALL other alternatives, I find my mind wandering away to far-off places, to imaginary fairylands, to prince charming, to romantic destinations, to dyslexic famous personalities and yeah, I appreciate the movie Taare Zameen Par even more…

Studying makes me a VICTIM… During exams I feel even more vulnerable, even more helpless and even more misunderstood. I feel trapped in a web of excel sheets, numbers and meaningless financial jargon, case studies which make no sense, people who are simply enamoured by the logical constraints of quantitative crap and bullying room mates who don’t let me sleep, who scare me with horror stories about how everybody else is studying hard and how they will pull up the average, who insist that I stay up past my bed time of 10 p.m. and who threaten that if I fail in more than three subjects, I shall be thrown out of the room…

Conclusion: DO NOT REJECT NULL HYPOTHESIS AT 99.99% CONFIDENCE INTERVAL!!

Monday, October 20, 2008

Perfectly Inperfect!

Ok so I am not perfect, I am not a lady, and I am definitely not the brainy types…

Some of the things that I been accused of:

Clumsy…

Sloppy…

Confused…

Laidback…

Artistic temperament… less of an artist, more of temperament

Detached…

Miserly…

Shopaholic…

Moody…

Financially Challenged…

Hereby readers are invited to add to the list…. This is just a desperate measure on my part to increase my blog hits!!

Thursday, October 16, 2008

Of finance and flunking!

So I flunked one of my finance papers; not really surprising and it’s not like I have flunked for the first time in my life! But still, the thought of studying for that paper again and spending money (we have to pay 250 bucks per paper for the backlog) is kind of daunting, especially now that only a few more months are left and I really really don’t want to study anymore, at least finance any more!

The more I think about why I took up finance, the more stupefied I am… it was more by elimination rather than by choice! It’s like I don’t like marketing, operations is too difficult, HR requires a lot of hard work, so finance is all I am left with. I did economics, followed by a stint in a bank, and my dad is a finance guy who reads finance books for PLEASURE, and he raves and rants about it, so yeah, I thought let’s check out what’s so great about it. As it turns out, it really doesn’t fascinate me.

Then I got thinking: my dad really has more influence on me than I give him credit for! I mean I am always trying to project this image of me as a fiercely independent, strong headed, totally liberal person who does her own thing, and may be to a certain extent, I do, but if I think about it, “my own thing” is something which my dad approves of! May be subconsciously I only do stuff that he wants me to do- from reading to sports to career to guys- there hasn’t been much conflict between us, which is scary given the generation gap. In fact my favourite cricketer is Mohammad Azharuddin! Come to think of it, it’s the same for him… but yeah we did fight it out during Grand Slam matches with me rooting for Monica Seles and he for Steffy Graf. But then again, I read up Enid Blyton and Ayn Rand and Jeffrey Archer and PG Wodehouse because he was crazy about them. My best friends are usually people that he gets along with really well. And if I am confused about anything, I simply accept his suggestion, no questions asked! One of my friends told me that my biggest weakness is my dad, and I guess he is right…

But now, I am suddenly faced with a life changing decision: so will finance come between me and my dad? He wants me to do my CA/CFA next, and I am adamant that I am doing nothing of that sort!! I refuse to derive the same sort of pleasure out of finance like he does. So for the first time in my life, I really want to do “my own thing”, which is really my own…

Friday, October 10, 2008

To Sir... with love!

So I met this professor of mine after ages- let’s call him RC. He represented my idea of The Complete Man: the ideal guy- smart, articulate, funny with an element of sarcasm, well-read, versatile, well traveled, experienced and yes good looking though not in the typical TDH way. He helped me through my frustrations, my fears and yeah, through those long comprehension passages, vocab and reasoning in my days of CAT preparations. He would sit with me patiently for ages analyzing my mock papers trying to figure out how I managed to score a negative in the Quant section! And after I got through the first hurdle, he made my life miserable during the mock interviews and GDs. So today when I met him after almost a couple of years, he greeted me with, “Oh you have grown up from the 16-year old kid who used to cry during mock interviews”. Of course I wasn’t 16, and I never cried, but yeah, close enough!

So the bottomline is that I developed a minor crush over this 35 year old guy, whose classes were a breeze, who encouraged us to think and who was like a friend just a phonecall away. And his kind of humour totally got me- there were times when he would crack a joke with a straight face, not many people would even find it funny, but I would just burst out laughing with the entire class staring at me… and then become sober. He was the typical arty, bohemian types whom I worshipped!

Today as we caught up on old times, we somehow transcended the teacher-student barrier, and before long we were discussing our love lives (or the lack of them), previous relationships, financial crisis, communism, Mark Twain, alcohol and world tour. He advised me to quit worrying about placement and just find a rich guy and live happily ever after. I explained that I found it difficult to find a guy, let alone rich!

As we said goodbye, he hugged me and signed off with a typical, “be good, but if you can’t, be careful!”. 

Thursday, October 9, 2008

Shubho Bijoya!

So today is dussheruh, or for us, bijoy doshomi, i.e. the last day of durga puja. This was the 6th consecutive year that I spent durga puja away from Calcutta: I miss the five days of celebration, waking up to the sound of dhak, the ten new clothes that I made a point to wear in five days, the pandal hopping in the evening, the antakshari games till late as we sat in our parar pujo pandal, the arati and of course the visarjan on doshomi, the sindur khela, the tearful goodbye followed by the back breaking sessions of feet touching and most annoyingly, the mishti feast following it. Now I understand that sweets constitute a very important part of Bengali culture, but what I fail to understand is the passion with which people serve others this delicacy and almost take it personally if you dare to refuse it… I have often felt the brunt of discontent and brusque comments about aaj kal ke bacche because of my staunch aversion towards this particular Bong ritual.

Anyway I spent dussherah with my best friend- lying around, eating chocolates, custard, and khakri, counting calories, bitching about people, dissecting past/current/prospective boyfriends, mulling about career options (or the lack of them) especially in this tumultuous market situations, annoying parents and about life in general! Then we decided to go on a trip, just the two of us, to Mauritius… just like that!!

Wednesday, October 8, 2008

The small highs in life...

The first time you stood on stage and received a merit certificate and you stole a shy look at your parents sitting in the front row, applauding and beaming…

The first time you made it to the deep end of the pool without gasping for breath in the middle…

The first time you painted something beautiful and hung it up on your wall…

The first time you kissed…

The first time you got drunk…

Your first pay cheque…

The first time you cooked Maggie and felt so proud of yourself…

The first time you saw your baby open her eyes and smile at you…

Mum is the word

So I met my mom after nearly four months; the first thing she says after she sees me is, “you have lost weight”. Brilliant start! Moms always know what makes you feel good, they always know the right things to say, even if they aren’t necessarily true- she knows she is stretching it, I know she is stretching it, but hey, I like the compliment, I feel good, and I am not nearly so rude to her- works for both of us! But of course it’s all downhill from there, and within 20 mins we are back to square one- arguing like always!

From “why aren’t you eating properly”, to “when are you getting placed”, to “when are you shifting back to Calcutta”, to “when are you getting married” (incidentally at this stage of desperation, the “who” is no longer important”)- the conversation was right on track- the same beaten path that we walk every time we meet…punctuated with the same responses from me: uh-huh, don’t know, don’t care, never…

I kinda like the parent-offspring relationship at least from the offspring’s point of view: you get to be rude, obnoxious, demanding and act like a complete spoilt brat, and yet they still love you, they still call you, they still beg you to come home, they still think you are the best thing that ever happened to them, and best of all, they still tell you that you are thin, no matter how bloated you are. It’s fun being an only child; not sure how much fun it is being a mom though!