Brain Freeze Version 2.0
Friday, June 23, 2006
Red Tape & All That Jazz- Or How to Fool the College Authorities into Thinking You Are a Blameless Babe in the Woods
Four years in a college, and you'd think that the higher-ups would PAY to see us go. But NO! Our college authorities don't want to give us up without a struggle. So, they have devised the perfect torture plan to make sure that 1 out of 5 students do not leave the College of Engineering, Trivandrum.
This seemingly simple yet devious plan is called, innocuously enough, a No-Dues Certificate. At face value, the form asks very simple questions indeed.
1) Name, (easy enough unless you are the kind that writes EVERYTHING from your neighbour's paper).
2) Class and year in which admitted to CET. Now, unless you spent most of your adult life at CET, I am sure you remember the time you found yourself in the midst of the Acacia forest wondering "Mera number kab aayega?"
8) Reason for leaving: Uhm, they won't have me anymore?! I wish they would, but they need the space for the juniors....
Once the poor final year student (or to be alumnus) is done with the third degree, he/she is suddenly faced with a mass of cryptic designations like Head Librarian, Hostel Warden, Bus Secretary, Supdt. A4, Supdt. G2 etc. Like a lifeline you cling on to Head of Department and Dean as someone you might recognise if you meet them in the lobby....
You're told you need their signatures. Counting down, that's around nine signatures and a smile creases your face as you start calculating what can be done with the spare time. When, suddenly, the trap is sprung by the gleeful other in the conversation,
"By the way, you need to get signatures from every lab and place in the college where you set your foot in."
Frantically, some lovebirds begin to calculate if the long walks and the sojourns in the Acacia Park (also known as the Panjaara Kaadu) was costing them any.
And thus begins your long trek around the 145 acres of the College of Engineering, Trivandrum.
Any sane CETian begins with the Library, where it's easy to get the four signatures and bid adieu. Any ECEian worth their salt then demands a no dues from the Machines Lab, (heh! imagine breaking a DC motor or a AC transformer), and the Mechanical Workshop Lab, (no breakages unless asked to use a large hammer and a chisel). Getting signatures from the umpteen labs you never remembered having done in the four years in college, from the component store, from your staff advisor and the HOD complete the quota at the Dept.
Ideally, the CGPU, the CCF and the CETAA ought to come somewhere in the middle.
I couldn't bear to look as the sir at the Central Computer Facility punched a hole into my ID card, (which was falling apart with that final indignity anyway). Ideally, I did say. I forgot to get the no dues from the CET Alumni Association (CETAA), but got a signature from the HOD anyway.
That made for a funny conversation.
Friend: "I have to get a signature from the CETAA"
Me: "Now, I haven't been to any of those reunions yet. So, I didn't pay. I gave it off without paying THEM!"
Friend: "Hah. Now, you won't be an alumnus of CET."
Me: "Aren't we all supposed to meet, like, in 2056?"
After one day,
Me: "Sir, I got my no dues approved without signing three forms in triplicate about joining the CETAA as a member."
Sir: "Cluck like a chicken thrice and promise me you won't repeat this again!"
Then, of course, there is the case of non-college bus using, day scholars having to camp outside the Hostel Warden and the Bus Secretary's Office. Not to mention having to take a sign off the scatter brained lady that is the Dept. Librarian.
This process took three days. At the end of which, I cheerfully went to the UG Dean's Office and asked for my TC.
The lady looked mournfully up and asked me to wait for three months, at the end of which the Dean would inform me I'd have to take a signature again since he used Emerald Green Ink to sign instead of Jade Green.
I hate red tape. And, no, not the shoes.
PostScript
This is my last blogspot from this address. This is because of proxy issues this blog page faces at most institutes, including IIMB.
Those cats who are curious about my further adventures are free to read on at .....
Frankly, I am curious to know too ;)
http://bstung.blogspot.com
PostScript to a PS
On the honour of a Fachchi from IIMB, I'll try to keep the blog updated and as clear as the accounts kept by Anderson & Anderson for Enron.
See you guys, and trust me I enjoyed the Brain Freeze ride.
Friday, June 16, 2006
ClosureI am leaving CET in a week. This is something I wanted to post around 8 months ago...
This is a post that has been pending for sometime. Many a time I started typing the words that I hoped would in some measure put my feelings into words. But, everytime, I failed. This is an attempt, futile maybe, to bring closure.
Death is something that happens in everyone's life. Whether it is the end or beginning of something is debatable.
But, murder.... Murder is different. Murder is despicable... Murder is also something that shouldn't happen to someone you know.
On 13th October, 2005, my classmate went missing. It was around the holidays and nobody really knew about it. The next day, we had our seminars, and all of the seventh semester, Applied Electronics were busy in eking out just those extra five marks from their talks.
Maybe we were too engrossed in our own lives to notice the absence of someone we took for granted in our class, maybe we were guilty of paying too less attention. Maybe, we were just too human....
The next week, it casually dropped into conversation.
"Did you know Shyamal is missing?"
That's when I remembered he hadn't been coming for the labs. We were trying to figure out where he could have gone and when he'd gone missing. Conflicting stories came up. Some thought it was Friday and some were sure they'd seen him on Thursday. The girls were anxious, and the boys tried to reassure us.
"He'll be back, he always is."
The story found itself on Page 3 of Hindu everyday. The police had no idea. The police suspected extortion. The police were in Madras. The police were questioning students. Always the headline read, "Missing Engineering College student".
Everyday, unwillingly, I pulled myself to read the newspaper, praying hard and wishing that one day the headline would read "Missing Engineering College Student found."
This is when students come together.
We started discussing about what could be wrong. Where he could have gone. What could have happened. Hundreds of questions and hundreds of plausible answers and just an unspoken question in our minds, under the surface, "Are you as afraid as I am for him?"
Everyone was afraid and unable to voice what we actually felt.
Days passed in this fashion.
Everyday, I picked the newspaper. The media was sensationalising everything, and I hated myself for relying on what the papers were saying. I ought to have known him better. I ought to have taken the time...
So many maybes... so many what ifs....
When, suddenly, that was it.
I took the paper one day and turned automatically to the third page. There was a terse report of an unidentified body found near the By-Pass. I turned panicky. On reading, it said it was that of a 30 year old man. My mind quietened down and my prayers became more vehement.
That afternoon, I got a phone call.
"There's bad news. Shyamal's body has been found. He's been murdered."
I sat down. There was a knot in my stomach. I forced myself to read the report again, reading between the lines.
I remembered the shirt he was wearing that day, according to the report.
Unbidden thoughts flooded into my head.
All of us in workshop garb, doing carpentry, and sir asking if everyone understood Malayalam. Whereupon, everyone pointed to Shyamal, saying he was from the Andamans. The sir had to spend three weeks explaining everything in two languages.
Shyamal sitting down on the verandah, outside our Power Electronics lab, playing with his mobile phone.
All the boys bugging him to know what the hindi word for 'cockroach' was. The MHites asking him to fan them as they "so"ed (slept).
His quirky humour and his funny way of talking.
The way he (and all my other lab partners) filched my lab record and rough record to do their experiments.
Three years of opportunities when we could know him and couldn't. Three years ago, his parents had sent him to our college to get a B.Tech degree. Never again would they see him. Never again would there be a chance for us to know him properly.
My prayers turned. I hoped he hadn't suffered much in his passing and I prayed for the peace of his family.
I felt for those of my friends (and his) who had to go and identify one of our own.
I found I couldn't bear to be alone. I got online and I stayed online for 3 days, talking nonsense.
Many times, I took up blogger's home page to write an eulogy. But what could I say, other than:-
"He was my classmate, a gentle soul who never harmed a fly. This ought not have happened to him. We didn't really know him. We wish we did."
Then, we began hating the media. The truth of "news" and invasion of privacy had caught up with us.
Initially, it was in the turn of phrase, the slightly sarcastic way of saying "disappearance", quotes included. Then it escalated, the front pages were splashed with his picture and those of his grieving parents. "Leads" were being followed. And everywhere we went, murmurs followed..
"Oh, so you are in CET. That boy..."
"He was my classmate..."
"Oh...." A long pause invariably followed. "What kind of boy was he?"
We hated the question and the answer equally. "We didn't know him all that well."
I gave up reading the paper for the next week. When we went back to college for our sessional exams, his pictures were put up on every wall, and I couldn't bear to look at it without remembering him with the half smile on his face, which he invariably had.
He had been one of us. All of 21 years of age. His life was nipped in the bud. Murdered for no fault of his own. Senseless, violent murder for no reason at all.
In his life, an average engineering student, having fun in his own way. One of the faceless, nameless thousands who pass out of such colleges everyday. In death, he became a political statement and a media frenzy. And like all political statements, short-lived. For some days, there were placards around the Secretariat that said "Bring the perpetrators of the Shyamal murder to justice." Those eventually disappeared too.
The Shyamal murder... Shyamal was a person to us, he wasn't a statement. These two words are something none of us can reconcile with each other, try as we might.
This is my prayer, dear god, give his family the peace of mind they need and the strength to face the tempest ahead.
Sunday, June 11, 2006
The VisitThe fan was creaking in the room; it was the only noise in the silence that had suddenly descended. This was the sort of silence where the participants smiled quick awkward smiles around which never meant anything special. She spent sometime looking up at the rafters of the house. The burnished wood looked like it had survived the ravages of centuries.
"I wonder how old this is? Dare I ask him?"
She dragged her eyes back to his face. He was smiling his usual wide toothed grin: slightly ingratiating and almost a smirk.
"So, what are your plans?"
She mumbled an answer that seemed to cover her near future adequately. Her mother broke in smoothly to cover whatever confusion she felt. That left her free to look around the room again. Her eyes wandered over the cheetah's head, the staircase to the loft, the basement (which her mom had told her was used to store grain in the old days) the calendar fluttering in the breeze, the tattered furniture. Incongruously, a huge Coke bottle stared back at her; they said it was a CD player. The modern touches in the room: a TV, a VCD player, the music system and a curio shelf filled with cheap dolls, just served to remind her how far they had come.
Twelve-thirteen years ago,there was no TV (She'd cursed that, "NO TV during VACATIONS?"), no video player or music system. The radio cranked out Akashvaani. But they still had fun. They'd sit outside on the porch during power cuts; all her cousins came together for vacations and sang and played cards even by candlelight. She remembered being the pesky little kid, the one everyone pampered and spoilt with toffees. The one that used to ensonce herself into the nearest cousin's lap and demand to hear a story from, the one that begged to be allowed to play grown-up games like Monopoly and '28' because there was no fun in being left out. She remembered the nights, sleeping on a straw mat, a tasty snack for mosquitoes; the shadows outside looking more menacing in the darkness, the table-fan whirring in its futile crusade to drive the heat of the night away.
Her grandmother and she had arguments over who had the last toffee, at least until the year ammachi had completely lost her memory. The new routine included the question, "Are you married yet? Who are you?" everytime she visited. Laughter almost bubbled to the surface when she remembered the expectant look on ammachi's face as she used to look at her hands to the ever-present packet of toffees her visitors brought her.
There were no toffees this time.
She snapped her attention back to what her uncle was saying, "...And they'd taken his gall bladder out." He finished it off with a kind of gory delight.
"Don't you need a gall bladder for proper functioning of the system?", asked her mother.
She mumbled again, "It's just for enzymes."
Her uncle laughed, "Yeah, they do it at the Sayippu's Hospital even now."
"So, how's your health today?" enquired her mother of her aunt and uncle.
"Haha.", he laughed, "I am still taking my pills. Five of them, three times a day."
Aunty added, "I am better than usual. I had an eye infection...." They were confirmed hypochondriacs, a genetic failing she always hoped she'd never inherit.
Her mother was continuing the small talk, "I thought you'd be busy today."
Aunty dear stood up with pride and looked at her busy husband, "He had three separate appointments today. A wedding, a baptism and a funeral.. "
"Speaking of weddings, when is George's wedding?" George was her favourite cousin, the one whom she teased mercilessly about how he was going to die a bachelor. So far, he was on the right path; her only unmarried cousin.
"My dear uncle, always so busy with the small world around him," she thought and smiled slightly and looked at her daughter. She remembered being overawed by her oh-so-grownup cousins. They could do everything so much better than her, they could do nothing wrong. Surely, they were supermen and women.
And then, suddenly that awe had vanished. She'd grown and they'd suddenly diminished in stature. They were as mundane as the rest of the people she knew. It wasn't their fault, she knew that, but was it hers? She suddenly wished she had the old days back.
She stood up abruptly, without excusing herself and ran outside to the porch, to the steps she remembered. This was the front of her ancestral home. It was seldom used now, the cars used to stop at the back door now. But the water wasn't as she'd remembered. Water hyacinth grew thick on its surface and the boat was pulled high and dry. She knew it had been ages since boats had plied on the small canal (could it be called a creek?), but she also remembered shivering on the steps leading into the water. There had been a time when they went to church on a boat; that had been nice. They had gone to the church, before coming home.
Even the church had changed. It was painted properly, the vicarage almost shiny and new, the water flowing past it had become murky brown, as if angry at the present. There was a pristine new macadamised road now. Everyone walked or came by vehicle to the Sunday service now. The cemetery outside the chapel looked dilapidated and uncared for. Huge granite slabs marked the life and passing of the beloveds of so many members of her family, family crypts and tall monoliths graced the small place. The paint was peeling on one showy tower that proclaimed its residents to be a loving couple. She remembered idly wondering how many more people could have been buried in the same space if the family hadn't decided to be ostantateous. She'd picked her way gingerly through the dense foliage, feeling sorry for all the poor souls on whose final resting place she'd stamped on. The weeds were nearly as tall as her at the grave and she stood there silently praying for the souls of her departed ones and for the strength for facing the future.
It was almost a family church, they told her. This is where many of your forefathers lived and were buried. She was never sure if that a badge of honour or something to be resented? She was slightly afraid of going there when there was no service on. Afraid even of making conversation in the lonely silence that breathed of centuries of so-called tradition. It was stifling.
Almost as stifling as sitting inside the house. It was much better standing outside, staring at the courtyard. The porch was as she remembered it. An insect bit her, not an unusual happening at all here. The 'muttam' was swept clear of all leaves and the sand was clean. The vines were climbing up the pillars. The bamboo grew sturdy and strong by the waterside, and there was that small chair in the corner as usual. Her dad's. Another baby of the family, she remembered, laughing slightly. The one who got into the most unholy scraps and the one who always strived the hardest: the daredevil of the family. She'd inherited all the traits in equal measure. Her mother used to wonder out aloud what exactly the Fates had done by making her a girl.
There were other kids here: her little nieces and nephews. She particularly didn't want to meet them, then she couldn't let her mind wander. But her uncle had other ideas. He went and woke them up.
"Get up, babies, look who's here? See this chechi. Do you remember her?"
She corrected mildly, "Not chechi, aunty."
"Oh. Yeah, we forgot the baby has grown up so much."
"Well, I became 21 when none of you were noticing, Uncle." she smiled sweetly.
The kids stared resentfully at her, yawning and rubbing their sleep out of their eyes. "No, little ones, I am not invading your space. In fact, I was always a visitor here." she told them silently.
"Kiss chechi, kutta," her uncle wanted to show off his grand-daughters. She obediently turned a cheek to the toddler who bumped her nose against it.
"No. no, you can do better."
She hurriedly got up and cast a significant look at her mother, "No, no, Uncle. We have to go. We're going home and we won't get there unless we leave now."
Her mother got up from the sofa, smiling. "Well, then. We'll see you later."
The final byes were exchanged, with hugs and promises to come again next year. She smiled at her cousin and hugged her tight for old time's sake. "You take care, chechi and say hi to your husband. I'll see if I can come for George achachan's wedding, whenever he finds a suitable girl. It'll be like old times again."
They sat in the car and waved again, preparatory to leaving Suddenly, her uncle ran out. "You forgot to pay the servants."
Her mother rolled the windows down and asked softly, "How much?"
Her father's elder brother smiled ingratiatingly again, "Whatever you can afford. You know you only come once a year, and from the city too..."
Her mother silently handed over a wad of notes, rolled up the windows and she took the car out of the back courtyard and into the narrow alley leading to freedom.
"This needs to be written about. Maybe on my blog," was her last thought before her mother started talking about their next destination.
Sunday, April 23, 2006
The First RainsThe first droplets of water splattered the dusty ground. The smell of the first rains lay heavy in the air around as the heavens showered their blessings on the parched earth.
In one of the innumerable apartment complexes of a grimy city far removed from the mundane pleasures of life, sat a little girl. By the window. With her chin on the ledge, her eyes closed and all her senses picking up the heady essence of the first rains.
Her mother looked at her fondly and thought briefly about the joys afforded to the young before they became old, worldly-wise and callous.
The feeling passed.
She went and patted the little child on her head and asked her to come for dinner.
The girl rose and searched for her white cane.
I sometimes get a picture so clearly in my mind that even putting it down on paper only serves to show that I can't write as well as I can see...
Here, the picture that sprang to mind was that of the last line. Somehow the rains coupled with a nasty bout of the flu has made me, for the want of a better word, contrary. Anyway, this is the result of lying awake at night, THINKING...
(I really got to stop doing that!)
Tuesday, April 11, 2006
A Li'l Update at an Unearthly Hour!IIMC Results out on the midnight of 12th March, (how precise!)... Got through both PGDM and PGDCM. The link page is beautiful and oddly satisfying.
I am loving it :)
Update #2 : IIMs B and L final converts. K on waitlist (ooh, I hate those wascally wabbits!)
Update #3: IIMI final convert....
So, ends the saga, that started around 8 months ago.....
Final Calls: B,C,L,I,K, SPJIMR calls.
Converts: (skipped SPJ) B,C,L,I and 0.5 K!
Not too shabby.
Saturday, April 08, 2006
B-Stung: A Mad Tea PartyYes, I know there's no use of me posting my IIMB experience... because, well, IIMB PIs are over.
Nevertheless, for all those who follow in our footsteps and wondered "Hmm, wonder how IIMB PI treated Shrutz?" (Hoping there will be some!), here's my misadventure chronicled in great detail.
Yeah, this is Shrutz in IIM-B. Hang on to your seats, people, this is a wild ride!
Yeah, I hope you fellas know the yada-yadas.
Profile
A poor little fresher from College of Engineering, Trivandrum doing her 4th year Applied Electronics & Instrumentation. (you will see why)
Marks upto S6: 84.42%
Xth: 87.6% (438/500) CBSE
XIIth: 95% (475/500) CBSE
What other info did I put in the SoP? Hmm.. family background, hobbies (unusual by the violin thing I keep getting asked on), extra-currics, good organisational thingies (yeah, that's how I speak, thanks for asking), strong co-currics, good acad record.
Why MBA? Same ol' crap.... Oh come ON, aren't I just a fresher?
I got there bright and early for a 2 o'clock GD on 4th April at 12:30 pm and flashed my customary 29 teeth (too much info, do we ask?) Our panel had 5 people, because one guy decided to skip the Gee-Dee, Pee-Eye process at Bee.
GD was a case study. Went on these lines.
The case was about the 'BAT', the Biomedical Aptitude Test, conducted by the 10 IIBs *ahem* for admission into their institutes. A not-for-profit organisation called the BES with 25 employees is in charge of conducting the test, processing applications and generating score-cards. The integrity of the test depends upon these staff. This year the test had 1 lakh takers and for the past 3 years the numbers have been increasing at 12% per annum. Prof Mani, in charge of this body, is in a dilemma. Without upgradation of the facilities, the test will be impossible to conduct. So, he has 2 options in front of him...
1) A 15 lakh low technology upgrade that will be easy to get approved by the Board of Directors of the IIBs, will enable him to keep the staff with a little training, be able to process 2 lakh applications.
2) A 1 crore technology-specific upgrade that will cut the staff to 5, enable the BES to process 3 lakh applications, pay itself off in the way of salaries by 4 years, but well, is expensive.
Anyway, a rather self-evident case, nevertheless, we had to discuss it.
I began the GD (well, a very chivalrous guy let me)
Everyone let the others speak and well too... Do the maths, 15 minutes and 5 people. We had periods of silence in the middle when everyone was staring at the paper with nothing to say. Repetition of points was rampant and we couldn't conclude satisfactorily.
Not a very good GD, I summarised okay.
I was last into the GD, so the two panellists grinned at me after informing us that the PIs would be in order and would be around 20 minutes each, so if we wanted to go out and refresh ourselves, we could. They added (to me) "You're going to have the benefit of most of the information. You're the lucky one."
I could only weakly grin back.
PI Experience...
It was around 5, when I was called in. The person in front of me was the only other fresher and was asked about npn & pnp transistors, and I was explaining about it very enthusiastically when the two panellists left for a refresher and told me to wait (again with a wide smile)
After 5 minutes, they came back and went into the room, M13, without a word. Sometime later, the lady popped her head out the door and motioned me, the poor little sacrificial lamb...
Well then, I got in.
I had scarcely taken 2 steps in when the gentleman Moorthy (GM) said "So, Susan, I hope you talked to all of them."
"Good evening sir, yes I did." I nearly sat down before I remembered and got up.
He looked up and asked me to sit. Meanwhile the Lady Moorthy (LM) also sat down.
With a grin he asked me, "So, what questions do you expect here?"
"Uhm, sir nothing really." I was trying hard to evade the question.
"Oh, come on Susan, you've talked to the people in front. What did they say?"
"Well, sir the person who came in front of me had a similar background. You asked him acads. To the others, you asked general questions."
"Okay, so what do you expect?"
I smiled.
"Susan, you have to expect something!"
I decided to be slightly flippant. "Well sir, if I did tell you what I expected, you wouldn't ask me those questions. That would imply what happened here would not be what I expected anyway."
He smiled and nodded his head yes. "Anyway, tell us what you expect!"
If that's what he wanted so badly, I'd give it to him. "Okay, sir. Acads"
"What in acads?"
"Uhm, Electronics."
"What in electronics?"
(Why does this feel like a kiddy-game?)
"Circuits?" I shrugged.
"What in that?"
"Digital Electronics."
"What in Digital?"
"Sir. Generally Digital Electronics"
"Come on, I can't ask you generally anything or the definition. You have to tell me something specific"
"Well sir, digital circuits, say counters, gates that sort of thing"
He smiled (GAH) and said "Okay, Susan. So tell me...."
*LONG PAUSE PURPOSELY INSERTED TO LET YOU KNOW HOW BUGGED I GOT AFTER THIS*
"...What is Instrumentation?"
I must have looked like one of the most surprised girls this side of the Nilgiris. "Okay, sir. Well, Instrumentation is a branch of engineering that deals with measurements and measuring instruments, control systems. We have subjects like Transducers, Sensor Systems, Digital Instrumentation Techniques..."
"Okay, tell me what are the requisites of a good instrument?"
I blabbered the usual.
"No, that's with respect to the gauge. I want a basic detail."
I talked about hysterisis, creep et al.
"Have you heard of the principle that a measuring instrument shouldn't interfere with the measure quantity"
Realisation dawned, too late. "Yessir."
"Can you give me an example?"
I gave him one about a voltmeter.
"No, that's a text-bookish example. Give me a practical one."
I looked up, thought hard and shook my head.
"Okay, you talked about calibration. What is that?"
"Well, sir, standardisation of an instrument is called calibration. There are 2 kinds of calibrations and 3 kinds of instruments..." I went on to explain the different kinds. (Don't wince, Instrumentation is the least favourite of my subjects...)
He looked satisfied and grinned again. By now, I was wise to his smiles & wiles. "If I calibrate an instrument, is it for life?"
"Nossir, you might need to recalibrate owing to aging of components or the creep, stress and strain effects."
"Okay. So, how do you judge which of two instruments is better after a while."
"Sir, assuming they are similar and calibrated the same, the one that shows the least aging and debilitating effects."
"Are all scales linear?"
"No sir, they can be linear or non-linear depending on measuring quantity and measurand. For example, when you are measuring pressure with displacement."
"When are they non-linear?"
"Sir, when the characteristics are non linear or over a large range."
"Give me an example."
"Sir, for a black body, wavelength radiated is proportional to the fourth power of temperature. This is a non-linear measurement."
"Is the scale non-linear?"
"Sir, we can make the scale linear"
"Is this done by the design engineer? How?"
"Sir, by manipulation of variables."
His eyebrows shot up. "WHAT? I am asking a professional, Susan."
Whoops! "Sir, what I meant is processing of variables."
He almost looked ready to laugh. "When does a designer make a scale non-linear?"
"Uhm, when the range to be measured is very large?"
"Okay, let me give you an example. Have you seen a speedometer?"
"Yessir."
"You know how it works?"
"No sir" I grinned back.
"You have seen it surely. Is it linear or non-linear?"
"Linear, sir."
"When does a designer make it non-linear?"
"Well, sir, I guess it should be when the range is very large. For normal vehicles, the speed range is limited. So, for vehicles like rockets and aeroplanes, it might be non-linear."
He didn't look convinced. "Okay, what's the average speed of a vehicle on Indian roads?"
Wow! From Design Engineer to Civil Engineer, I have gone places.
"I guess 45?"
"45 what?"
HUH? "45 kmph"
"What kind of vehicle is that? A two-wheeler, truck, what?"
"A normal car, sir."
He repeated that "A normal car...."
All of a sudden he shook off whatever he was thinking and smiled again. (Alarm bells rang out, the earth shook, whatEVER!) "So, Susan"
I was almost tempted to remind him that my parents had named me something else, anyway, I let it slide...
"You said that Prof. Mani must make the decision palatable to the Board. What does that mean?"
(Uhm, sir, they might have digestion problems worth a crore?)"Basically, sir, the 1 crore deal might be too much for the board to swallow in one go, so Mr. err.. Prof. Mani has to point out the advantages and disadvantages to the board."
He did not look convinced.
"Okay, tell me what are the criteria to be used by the board to judge the effectiveness of any decision?"
"Uhm, with respect to the GD, sir?"
"Okay"
I talked about the pros and cons of each option and weighed them, and also didn't commit either way.
After he heard me out, he asked again, "So, what is the disadvantage of the second option?"
"Mainly the high initial investment."
"Susan, may I ask you a personal question. You may or may not answer it..."
"Sure, sir". I looked slightly startled, I am sure.
"You're going to do an MBA from an IIM, where the initial investment will be high; to the tune of 3 lakhs or so. So, will your parents say 'That's too high, go for a job'?"
"No sir"
"Why not?"
"Sir, because it has a high return of investment"
"Very good. Now answer the question. What will the board look at? How can they be convinced?"
"Sir, the second option has a high return of investment, low payback period, more efficiency, processing capacity."
"How can you quantify efficiency?"
"Sir, you want quantified results?"
He smiled and didn't say anything.
"Well, sir, we could look at processing cost per application. Pass the extra cost over to the application cost. Speed of processing for technology specific procedures."
"Okay, suppose you are running a hospital and want to buy a new X-ray machine. What are the criteria used to judge whether you need to buy one?"
I must have looked very confused, because he added, "Will the hospital administrator look at overall costs in the year or cost per X-ray?"
Well, my thought processes went that the hospital administrator needed to look at overall costs, since he needed an overall view, "The former, sir."
"Are you sure? What about patient welfare?"
Okay. That was seriously mean.. "Yessir."
"Now, what will the board look at?"
"Speed of processing."
"Susan, suppose you wrote the CAT and we gave you the results the same day. Not accurate results, just anyhow.."
"Sir, you need accurate results in the minimum amount of time."
"What about the staff?"
"With minimum amount of staff working to ensure integrity."
"How many staff would be employed with the 2 options?"
"25 for the first and 5 for the second."
"Which is the better option?"
*sigh* "The second, sir"
"Why didn't you say that before?"
I looked incredulous.
"Okay, suppose you do take the second option, how would you tackle the laid off staff?"
I opened my mouth to answer when he interrupted, "Someone suggested relocating them into other jobs in the IIBs."
"Sir, that was my idea. Relocating them would stop them from striking."
"Yeah, maybe, but they might still be unhappy because they were taken from confidential jobs to normal boring administrative jobs.."
Hmm, how can we put this delicately... "Okay, sir we have to look at relocation viz-a-viz a raise in salaries."
He laughed, "So, you're planning to pay them off?"
I reciprocated with the laugh, "Technically, yes sir."
He looked at the Lady Moorthy, who had been busy flipping through my form and recos till now. "Do you have any questions?"
She smiled as well. (ARGH!)
"Well, you're still in college. Are you placed?"
"Yes, ma'am."
She waited.
"Infosys & IBM-hardware"
"IBM Hardware?"
"Yes, ma'am. E&TS, in Bangalore, they're the hardware arm."
"So, why are you going for an MBA now?"
"Ma'am, in the IT sector or hardware jobs, we're told to think in a straight line, a linear fashion, with no deviation from the norm. I perform best while thinking creatively and problem solving."
She kept nodding like I was talking a lot of sense. I did not like the look of it.
"So, what kind of job would you like after an MBA?"
"Ma'am, I'd like to see where my talents lay after 2 years and decide and not decide in a hurry."
"But I am sure you know what companies come on campus."
I smiled and nodded my head.
"Tell me your dream company."
I was trying to avoid the question, because it would open a can of worms, so again I repeated the answer.
"Okay, a dream field?"
"Not really, ma'am."
"Where do you think your talents would be most utilised?"
I was quited tired of it, "Uhm, Advertising, I guess."
She looked very literally SHOCKED. And I admit, I was biting my tongue then.
"Why?"
"Well, ma'am not the exact copy-writing, but an overall perspective. It'd be satisfying to my creative impulses. Anyway, any job that lets me do writing in my spare time (hah!) would be good!"
She almost laughed out loud. "You do know there are institutes that offer such degrees even an MBA?"
"Yes, ma'am"
"Which one?"
I sighed, "MICA"
They grinned sardonically at me.
"Did you apply?"
"No, ma'am"
"So why IIM?"
"Because they're the best!"
"You know such companies don't come here."
"Yes ma'am, but getting a job there wouldn't be hard."
"Name some advertising companies." She had delivered her ace.
"JWT.."
"HUH?"
"J Walter Thomson, Ogilvy India."
Now, I wanted to get out in a hurry!
GM looked at LM and asked, again with a grin, "Any questions, Susan?"
I shrugged and nodded my head first, then changed my mind, "When will the results be out, sir?"
I am sure they thought "As if that matters to YOU. Bahaha"
"Month-end."
"Thank you sir."
"Bye, Susan"
"Bye, sir, ma'am"
*sigh*
Wednesday, April 05, 2006
To B, or not to B...To be, or not to be: that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them? To die: to sleep;
No more; and by a sleep to say we end
The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep;
To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub;
-Hamlet, William Shakespeare
Yeah, officially, my GD/PI season is over for 2006.
Here's a quick recap for those of you with a short memory span (which, knowing my readers as well as I do, is EVERYONE!)
13th Februrary, 2006:
IIM Kozhikode
GD: Average, started the GD, because everyone was equally blank on the given paper.
PI: Average, HR mixed with lot of human-interest angles.
22nd February, 2006:
IIM Lucknow
GD: Very good, gave good points. The topic was a li'l weird!
PI: Semi-stress where I wasn't allowed to complete sentences. Horrible experience chronicled earlier.
4th March, 2006:
IIM Indore
GD: HR based Case Study, where I spent most of my time waving my points goodbye as they went whizzing by.
GD was again average.
PI: Was feel-good, as long as I was in the room. In the cold light of day, not quite. I have realised the points in the process when the 2 professors were trying to psyche me out, including "What do you know about IIM-I's placements?" & the pseudo-spot offer!
13th March, 2006:
IIM Calcutta
GD: "Man is an Island." Average to good. Spoke a bit, not too much, but was able to speak clearly enough.
PI: About time for luck to turn Shrutz's way; this PI was excellent. Totally subjective, of course, but I enjoyed the process!
4th April, 2006:
IIM Bangalore
GD: Case study again, with a panel of 5 people, I talked enough! I think the others had enough anyway. Weird bits of silence dominated in the discussion when everyone kept staring at the paper in front of them!
GD would again be good to average, we didn't come to a conclusion.
The summary I wrote was in the usual way, average enough.
PI: Killing me softly with their smiles. I am happy to report, of the three people in the room, 2 of us enjoyed the process.
Of course, they were the interviewers. The questions ranged from the average speed of Indian vehicles on the road to return of investment, my expectations of the PI and all the way to instrumentation, my bugbear.
They were laughing at (not with) me!
Not entirely sure what the exercise proved, other than to reaffirm the well known fact I need to think (a LOT) before I speak!!
PI was energy packed, but pointless.
Anyways, ol' Will here sure knew his stuff, right?
After 50 days of jetting to and fro Bangalore in all modes of conveyance, my mind's suddenly reached a grinding halt.
It's been a roller-coaster ride of sorts, and has seen bouts of motion sickness even.
Here's an honest opinion: The entire CAT-IIM-GD-PI process is highly disruptive. From the time, around September 2005, I had decided to at least give a cursory look at DI and QA to yesterday, I haven't really paid much attention to other things happening in life.
Will it be worth it? Time alone knows. (Yeah, and not TIME either)
I seem to have lost the verve that marked the outset of the endeavours. What has replaced it, is in a way, fatalism. I keep repeating "I don't know" & "I don't care" at regular intervals.
Both are, of course, not true.
To sleep, perchance to dream.....
Time will tell....
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