Power of a Vision

We all have a dream - one you believe in, a one you see becoming a reality, a dream you know nothing about but you know it exists taking shape somewhere in the many years to come, a dream that defines the purpose of your life.

It is yours and you know it. It is the guiding light for every decision you take. But how do you make others see the light? Do they need to see the light? As it turns out, yes, they do sometimes, to know you as a person. You try giving them a glimpse. The brightness of the vision is blinding. They shut their eyes. And then it's gone. But when you shut your eyes, it is clearer than ever. And the moment you open them, it is blurry. All you can recollect is you saw a dream. All you are left with is the lingering sensation.

It is this sensation that makes you a believer. It is the belief that translates into a vision which in turn can be shared. Though appreciated for its beauty in the long run, many find it hard to understand the choices you are going to make tomorrow. You find it hard to make them understand. Do you stop trying? No.

You go back and find another soul in the hope that someday you will find people who do not need to see the vision. They can feel the sensation that you do. It is that what makes them believe in you. You make them a part of your journey. And gradually, they begin to see it as you do. And then you wonder, "Was it even necessary?"

Satisfied

Satisfaction manifests itself in different ways. Satisfaction could come from the sense of achievement, peace, joy or relaxation derived from any one of the many activities one could possibly do. But the beauty lies in the fact that its effect leave an imprint on your head, a scar one wants to see over and over again to relive those times that have been. Again scar may not be the perfect word to use in a positive connotation but I simply use it as a last symbol of an event that led to strong emotions.

I was scarred twice in the last fortnight. Two very different reasons led to two very different results but gave me the same amount of satisfaction.

The first event I am talking of was my rafting trip to Kolad. The dense forests, the pristine waters, the unpredictable skies and the beautiful flora and fauna looked even prettier when observed from the quiet and fast moving rafts. There was no way I could have seen and absorbed so much natural grandeur in so little time. When added to the adrenaline rush of braving the rapids and the spirit of working as a coordinated team of your best friends, I had one hell of a package.

For those three hours, I lived in the present, without memories of the past and concern about the future. It was there that I felt closer to myself than I had ever been before. If I had to recall a time when I sincerely felt at home, it was while I was oaring through the 12 KM stretch of the Kundalika river. (I wish I could show you how I felt but cameras are a strict no-no in white water rafting).

The end of our journey in River Kundalika

The second event was one closer to the world of materialism we live in. We faced an uphill task of pulling of a mammoth event in one-third of the usual time. 'Mammoth event' refers to Illumina, the annual disguise market research festival of MDI and 'We' refers to the Illuminati (no, Dan Brown used it later in Angel and Demons), the core team that makes the event happen every year.

Due to an unexpected break of 10 days due to reasons mentioned in the post below, our entire plan had gone for a toss. At one point we weren't even sure if it was possible to hold the event with the little time available for the preparation. There was an incredible amount of work to do and we were a leaner team than there was last year. Though the batch could volunteer for bits and pieces of the total work, there was a considerable amount left for the team in addition to putting those bits and pieces together.

It is here that the entire team stood up together and made a seemingly impossible event possible. 6 days of non-stop work, lack of sleep, a lot of physical exertion and stiff deadlines at every stage comprehensively tested the team's mettle. Illumina was a grand success, at least as successful as the previous year if not better. Post the event, the sense of weariness was tremendous but short lived but the sense of achievement remained and will continue to remind us of the time we all did our bit and made the difference.

The fireworks at Illumina 2009

It is said,"One day your life will flash before your eyes. Make sure it is worth watching." These events have surely made watching my life a worthier prospect.

Panic Pandemic

Swines passed it on to humans. Humans passed it on to other humans. Some of the other humans came to my campus. Some of those living on the campus caught it by the virtue of ill fate but survived the scare. Some are lucky to have not got it still. Some have escaped it right in time. Those in the latter two categories may still not be completely out of its danger. The clock is ticking. Panic is increasing. People are leaving.

Sounds like a typically d-day scenario of a movie. But it's true! I never thought I would have the opportunity to witness the panic of being stricken by the most hyped illness in the world. I shouldn't be sounding excited about it, but I can't deny the fact I am as excited as I am worried. In an otherwise extremely planned schedule for the next 3 months, most would have thought nothing could go wrong. But it did, and how, and how soon.

If I could analogize the H1N1 virus with the Joker in the Dark Knight, it perfectly represents his ''agent of chaos'' theory. If you didn't get the connection, here is a refresher.

"I just did what I do best. I took your little plan and I turned it on itself. Look what I did to this city with a few drums of gas and a couple of bullets. Hmmm? You know... You know what I've noticed? Nobody panics when things go "according to plan." Even if the plan is horrifying! If, tomorrow, I tell the press that, like, a gang banger will get shot, or a truckload of soldiers will be blown up, nobody panics, because it's all "part of the plan." But when I say that one little old mayor will die, well then everyone loses their minds!

Introduce a little anarchy. Upset the established order, and everything becomes chaos. I'm an agent of chaos. Oh, and you know the thing about chaos? It's fair!"

For those of you who don't get a connection, let me describe what happened in the course of a few hours. Everything was going as planned. The beginning of a new semester. The build up to a very crucial 3 days in our b-school lives. The routine remained unchanged - sleepless nights, dreamy days, endless work, constant cribbing. We heard of one birdie being caught in the net of the virus. Everyone tried to display a sense of composure - Nothing happened, it is just an one off event. The reason I used ''tried to display'' is because the next day, everyone queues up to find out if they have been caught in the net too. Most had escaped, some had not. There were many who didn't know still and guess were in the worst position.

Here is a brief insight into the chain of thoughts.News spreads. Negative thoughts begin to creep in. What if it's me next? How am I going to manage alone? Will I spread it to a few others in my group? Should I go home to eliminate risk of transmission? Should I stay put to avoid taking the virus home? Should I go out? (For the ultra-paranoid living in ignorance:)Will I become like one of those miserable wretched creatures that are seen in movies like ''Resident Evil"? (For the more relaxed souls:) Is the mask looking funny? (For the optimist:) Let's click a picture with the masks on (me! but no one was interested except a good Samaritan).

The amazing fact about panic is it kills rationality. It nurtures fear and ignorance. It is self-perpetuating It is ubiquitous. It has its own mind. It is evil. As evident, even the smartest brains in the country are not immune to the threat so common (panic not THE FLU).

As I prepare myself to go on a welcome 10 days break, I hope I don't have to bear the burden of sharing the love the virus could have for me with you (could be you :P ). On all other fronts, the stage is set. Surprises are planned. A holiday has arrived before I could see it coming. No more fooling (could be 'flu'ing) around with me!

Play safe.

PS: All information mentioned in the post is the personal opinion of the author and should not be taken as an official source of information from the school authorities or the student body of the school.

The Time Machine

Though the Time Machine in the H.G.Wells' novella may still be a distant reality, I have managed to discover its not-so-close substitute in the form of a b-school.

It seems just yesterday that I landed at MDI, fresh and full of apprehensions about what the coming few months are going to throw on me. I have become one-sixth of an MBA since then, I have given 14 exams and 28 quizzes in the process, submitted around half a dozen projects and haven't quite realized where was it that the learning has happened, though I am certain it has. It is as if all the actions were involuntarily performed by a unknown side of me.

What has happened more consciously is that I have been promoted from the nocturnal creatures to a qualified insomniac. Seniors say if you are sleeping too much, you are not making the most of your time in a b-school, which I partly agree with. Say for instance the last week from Monday to Friday, I slept for 4,5,3,4,2 hours per day respectively everyday. And sometimes that too was broken into further bits and pieces. In retrospect, time seems to have flied, but each day is incredibly long, not necessarily fruitful.

The word 'fruitful' means different things to different people. For me, a day is fruitful when I have done my share of work (both academic and extracurricular), socializing (which does not always happen when you work) and sleeping (its quality matters when quantity is compromised). In addition, it is very important to be able to make time for your hobbies and your friends back home once in a few days. Reading beyond academic books and playing (especially when you have facilities on campus) should take up some space on your schedule too.

By that definition, I would say the term has been partly fruitful. I have worked a lot, met a lot of new people and interacted with some very talented folks from the industry and slept when I have had the opportunity. The net has allowed me to keep in touch with most of my friends.

But on the flipside, photography has majorly suffered (which my friend's on Flickr would agree with). I haven't been resolute enough to pull myself out of bed early each morning to find stuff to click. Reading has been minimal and restricted to the bare necessities. Playing and exercising did happen with some gung-ho in the start of the trimester, but then the other commitments took precedence.

More worrying is the reason why it has been so. The attitude in a b-school is you have to wait till the dagger hangs on your neck. Everything happens at short notice. And whenever there is enough time, people prefer resting now and sprinting later. As I had explained in one of my previous post, we create crisis situations and then call ourselves good crisis managers.

This is not to put off an aspiring b-school student - it happens everywhere in the country's top schools. It is the ''culture'' of Indian Management Education. You have to accept the culture if you are a part of the community. And in the process, you have loads of fun and loads of headaches and all in the name of 'wholistic learning'. It's charm lies in the fact that it is brutal, hence effective. It is an experience which a few other places of learning can offer. If you like roller coasters, this might just be the place for you!

Cravings

The search is on

For another treasure

Not the glory of achievement

Nor wealth beyond measure

The path is hidden

The journey is long

The silence and sounds of the woods

Accompany me all along

"Make your own path

If you can't find the right ways

Learn from me, oh traveller"

Advices the river as it sways

Gazing through the scarlett sky

The Sun sinks at the distant end

Spreading darkness as it takes my leave

To brighten up another land

The sights and sounds and smells

Look with me into the starry night

Overtaking me with a sense of joy

Making me wonder if my goal was right

The serenity and the beauty alike

Make nature my wonder cure

My journey was my destination

Of that, I am completely sure.

In My Blue Pyjamas

I don't know why I am writing this on my blog.

It was 10:15 AM. I was in such deep sleep that only a canon shot could have awakened me. Or so I thought, until I was awakened by the ringtone of my cell-phone. I cursed the caller. Someone would have to be cruel to awaken a harmless soul from his sweet slumber. I heard a familiar voice. Once my brain had finished its daily booting routine, I managed to identify the owner of the voice. It was MS, my classmate and friend. I don't remember which language he spoke in but what he said vaguely translated to "Are you not coming for the lecture?" I told him that I was. I reiterated that the lecture was only at 10:15. That's when he broke the news to me "It's already 10:15." I went like "Oh F***, not again."

Had it been any other phase of my education, I would have bunked with pleasure. My philosophy used to be "Why put in an effort in waking up for a boring lecture which again puts you to sleep?" until I was introduced a demon called 'Grade Dock' which means I would move from a B+ to a B for the fourth lecture I missed in a subject and then one lesser grade for every lecture missed there on. I had my share of quota left for this particular subject but I thought I would save it for a rainy day.

Thus, began my one-minute challenge of reaching class before the gate to the academic block is locked. I splashed water on my face from the bottle near my bed, gargled using water from the same bottle, got into a t-shirt and tracks (My jeans were not too handy so...) and left for class. I thought all this had happened in a jiffy but the clock showed 10:17! Damn, I was destined to be late.

The advantage of being in a residential course at MDI is that the academic wing is right opposite the hostel, which makes reaching class a 30 second brisk walk. I decided to not give up and trying getting to class. There was hope. I rushed to the academic block and saw the open gate from a distance which meant I could get in before I was bolted out. I did, just before the roll call began.

My class mates, I tell you, they are such nice people. They completely understand the ordeal which all creatures have to go through at a place where body clocks go bonkers. They were empathatic. In their empathy, they smiled, mocked and pointed fingers ("Abhi uthke aaya hai, bechara") Whatever improvement I made on my looks was on the basis of feedback which my fellow benchers gave me. "Your hairs not in place, your right eye is has something stuck in its left corner, etc." Some went out of their ways to be nice. "Don't talk to me. You haven't brushed still."

I didn't even bother to look at my professor because I didn't know what I was to expect from her. I just quitely sat in my place, luckily finding a paper and pen from a colleague (it is nearly impossible for a person to carry spares at a b-school).

All that happened seemed like an extend period of somnolence. My though process was still slow and my voice had the morning blues. It remained so almost throughout the lecture. Very few can remain attentive through a non-stop narration of tales of profound vanity and meagre conquests. I couldn't find much of a difference between the others and me, except that the physical signs made it more apparent in my case.

As soon as the lecture got over, I rushed back to my room. Had a look in the mirror and realized why I managed to capture everyone's attention for a few minutes. I couldn't stop laughing!! I was a total mess. It was only natural of the others to be so 'nice' to me. But then there are always firsts in lives. Today was my first lecture in pyjamas. I hope it is the last.

I still don't know why I wrote this on my blog. Do you?

In retrospect, 'nice' is a nice word!!

Live Strong

Life’s biggest gifts often come in the most inconspicuous fashion. Their worth is realized only through the change they spark off. The change makes its presence felt gradually, through an experience of joy and suffering, grief and hope, which in turn force one to look within. For cyclist Lance Armstrong, life’s biggest gift was cancer.

In his autobiography "It's not about the bike" written with Sally Jenkins, Armstrong beautifully weaves the story of his self-actualization. The book is a narrative touching every aspect of his life right since his childhood to his rebirth. In the beginning, he greatly talks about the influence of his mother, his turbulent relation with his fathers and more importantly, his own discovery of the athlete in him. His career as a triathlete and cyclist is like a fairytale of successes and victories till reality strikes in the form of a fourth stage testicular cancer. His prognosis looks bleak with the cancer having spread to his brain, lungs and abdomen and doctors giving him a less than 40% chance of survival. The book takes the readers through the abysmal lows during the treatment to the highs which follow in the form of his Tour De France wins, his marriage to Kristin Richard, and the birth of his son, Luke. The book skillfully summarizes his journey before and after the disease, his metamorphosis from a brash bullish cyclist to the mature diligent competitor. Cycling for him post treatment is a means to a greater end, that of supporting other cancer patients across the world, through the Lance Armstrong Foundation.

In every aspect, Armstrong gives the readers a deep insight into the emotions and thoughts that run through his mind at various points during his fight against cancer, be it the shock of the diagnosis, the pains of the chemotherapy, the fear of death and moreover, the anxiety of never being able to do again what he loves the most. Time and again, he draws comparisons of his predicament with a cycling race, to make himself belief that he can win in this fight for life. The beauty of the book is the ability to make you feel every emotion that overwhelms him in a very simple yet evocative manner which is exactly the reason I strongly recommend it to you.

The story is an epitome of how an individual can find strength in adversity. It is about living strong. Like Armstrong says “Odd as it sounds, I would rather have the title of cancer survivor than winner of the Tour, because of what it has done for me as a human being, a man, a husband, a son, and a father.”

PS: I had written it for a review at college. Thought I will share it with you all too.

Source: http://www.makingalife.com/book_covers/ItsNotAboutTheBike.jpg