Tuck-Ding.

December 15, 2006

Dear GT,
Thank you for applying to the Tuck School of Business at Dartmouth. After much thought and careful consideration, I regret to inform you that we are unable to grant your request for admission to the Tuck Class of 2009.

It is often difficult to fully appreciate the competition for admission to Tuck. Our decision is not a reflection on your intellectual abilities, personal achievements or potential success in management. The factor that most often contributed to our decision to not admit an applicant was the rigorous competition created by a strong applicant pool and our commitment to maintain a small class size. This year’s pool is exceptionally strong. We know that many of the applicants who were not granted admission possess excellent characteristics that will serve them well in business school and beyond.

I sincerely appreciate your interest in Tuck and all the time and thought that went into your application. You have my genuine best wishes for success in achieving your future goals.

Warmest regards,

Dawna Clarke

Director of Admissions
Tuck School of Business at Dartmouth

...and thats the way it is.

The first leaves of...spring?

Ah,ye admits have started flowing in...

JatWarrior has gotten into 1 of my fav schools - Tuck. I have been following his story from last year and I think this has been long overdue. Absolutely fantabulous-congrats dude! (slight shade of green ;-) If you were to look at his application submission dates, you can see the kind of work he has been putting in long before his apps were due...wow.

MBABlogger apparently has done some very hard work on his apps and added a pinch of pixie dust and guess what...its working! With admits from Darden and UNC, our mans on the moon already!

Heres to hoping all this rubs off on the rest of the gang too...sigh....amen.

Col. Mike Martin is dead.

- The man who choose the desert and the SAS over a wife is dead.
- The man who introduced me to the H&K MP5 and the Ka-Bar is dead.
- With these lines in his mind, he died...
And how can man die better,
than facing fearful odds,
for the ashes of his fathers,
and the temples of his Gods?

After trekking through the deserts of Arabia, the jungles of Borneo, the streets of Belfast and the Afghan mountains, after no-god and god, tending a garden, slitting enemy throats and stitching up dying friends, he is finally gone - dissolved and disappeared amidst the sordid reams of pulp fiction.

And in a way like Col.Mike Martin, Forsyth too is kind of gone...a relic of an era bygone. After some racy books like The Day of the Jackal, The Devils Alternative and The Veteran, Forsyth kind of lets us down with The Afghan. A decent plot with deep background, lots of interesting facts but a loose storyline and some improbable coincidences make for a very superficial novel (not that international conspiracy thrillers are expected to spout metaphysical truths) which is half Forsyth and half-not.

And a very shallow reason to kill Mike.

So long and thank you for everything, Mike - the Brecons, Qui Audet Vincet, Horatius and the Lays of Ancient Rome, the terrible beauty of Ireland, the Holy Quran, Saddam and the House of Sa'oud. If my father had not insisted, perhaps we would have known each other better - in the Paras, the Grenadiers or the Rifles....if only life was not what it was...ah, but it is.

Rest in peace,Colonel.

Tuck

Submitted appl: 11-Oct
App turned complete: 31-Oct
Interview call: None
Decision date: 15-Dec
Like the school: Really do
Pref for admission: In top 3

Attitude 1
Tuck is a hands-on school-believes in interviewing all potential candidates. Its been 3 months since I applied and I havent even got any interview call. Results are due next week.Therefore I am as good as out -DINGED, OUT, KHALLAAS, MATTER-KILOSED.

Attitude 2
I have been emailing Tuck since 2005 on how serious I am about their program. I have interacted with their Dean directly and met up with their alumni/profs while they were in India last year. Since I have been doing all this, they dont think they need to meet me - they think I fit perfectly! I fit,therefore I am...likely to be admitted. A week left for celebrations! Yoohoo!

Attitude 3
If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;

Thank you, Mr.Kipling.

Darden reception at Bangalore (2/2)

ACT 5-ACTUALLY SPEAKING,THE ACT BEGINS
Step 1: Settle in after fried mushrooms for the actual presentation.
Step 2: Smile and nod at regular intervals.
Steps 3.1 to 3.9:
Listen to Jay Bourgeois speech on Darden "High touch, high tone, high octane". Pop peanut. Understand that its a small and young school. Known for high standard of ethics. No specializations. Listen to gyan about how school truly helped out an Indian applicant who lost his father. Pop peanut.

Listen to the prof's challenge about whether any other school's dean would reply in person to a mail. Seems like a nice small school in a nice small town. Not bad. Pop peanut-miss mouth. Dirty looks from Neha,Ishita,Anu and Mehgna. Decide to be careful....wonly for Ishita's sake ;-) Immediately decide to apply.

Sigh when Jay announces a case study-RIGHT HERE,RIGHT NOW! Yeah,wow! ;-( Case on Latino banana plantation which brings in workers and provides acco. A socially responsible move to get local prostitutes involved as workers backfires when man leaves wife+kids and shacks up with one of the new women. In South American jungle. House goes to woman and kids? Man does what? Keep him? Sack him? Kids?Sob,sob.... Almost an Oliver Stone movie.Pop peanut.

The knives are out...Listen to Northie chap questioning morality of the move and establishing an ethical culture; Jay does a nice war dance over his arguments and stamps them out. Am very happy for my unhappy Northie friend-practice a double peanut pop.

Listen to women arguing for commitment. Wonder how this relates to business. Finally someone realizes its not about ethics and its about business. Jay closes the case by bringing in a priest into the picture and khallaas! The problem stands solved-priest decides whats right and whats wrong. Case over. Ultra-kuwik decision and resolution to pop in last mushroom for the day.


ACT 6-BYE BYE ISHI DAHLING.
Step 1: A last sip of wine,a long and lasting look at Ishi Dahling and out we go...train at 9.45, Ganja at hotel at 9.35. Will he make it? Thanks to a decent Citrix employed Mallu former entrepreneur (who ofcourse wants build a company and become an employer), Ganja gets a lift...quick exchange of thoughts on admission process and entreprenuership as we zoom down in a Corsa. Leave calling card and vaguely exchange promises of getting in touch etc etc. Indian Railways saves the day and brings the train home late.

ACT 7-HORROR IN THE ORIENT EXPRESS
Step 1: Funny looking Mallu guy says "Hellllluuuu" to snotty looking lady.
Step 2: Both exhange the usual "weather, naadu evude" etc etc in sadly practiced English accents-Ganja entreats the powers of the universe that they dont become kilose and friendly.
Step 3: Bury head into Man's World mag and stare at Claudia Schiffer,I-pods, Azzaro Silver Black and the Graham Chronofighter. Ah, the fates...two born again X'ians with fake accents.Why? Why? Why in S1?
Step 4: Man spots opportunity and asks the dreaded question "Are you Xian?" naheeeeeeeeeennnn...why me?!!?
Step 5: Denominations exchanged-Protestant/CSI. World views exchanged-Born again/Always was.The guy gently lets loose a whopper of a statement "Yaactually I gawt a Maasters in Theoology and now am eentu sochal serveez"-Go dude!
Step 6: BOOM-that statement does it! Bibles brought out-Arguments exhanged-Interpretations cast about-David the sinner/Thomas the doubter/Mary the mother. Ganja cringes and hopes they dont spot his rosary. Thankfully they dont.
Step 7: Louder and louder arguments continue till 1am. A pissed off Ganja considers giving his version of Xianity by example and then asking to shut them up, but decides to get aggro and snaps off light. Silence observed for 10 seconds. 5-5 man decides not to confront 5-11 Ganja. Softer interpretations sally forth.

There you go-that was a fine step by step description of sequential events. Logic in my blood and water in my tie...tch tch...just so like me! Gut nacht!

Disclaimer: For all the yak yak that he did, its very likely that he is actually a social worker running an orphanage or old age home somewhere in Kerala. Its just that I personally have a problem with action over words...esp when its this "my God's bigger" business. If a religion is as nice/deep/profound or true as it claims to be, it should show in the practitioners' behaviour and not in their words. With such a smug homily on religious values, GT gets back to work.

Darden reception at Bangalore (1/2)

SUMMARY
Attended the Darden reception at the Windsor Sheraton,B'lore on Sunday evening.Darden is a "warm" compact community driven B-school which espouses the case study method strongly. Has many things in common with Tuck like "designed to be small", located far away from the big cities with a closely knit community.If you are OK with that and the "Case Study" method, you should apply.

DETAILS
Ms.Lynn Garnett,Asst Director-Admissions and Prof.Jay Bourgeois, Asst Dean of International Affairs (whatever that means!) were present. I had just landed in from Cochin on one of the many a/cd Volvos that ply to Bangalore;awkward business of lobbing around a suit, a laptop and a airbag. Reached the hotel in time and stepped into the cloak room to change into the shoot.

ACT 1-SET WET
Step 1: Put on tie
Step 2: Put on jacket
Step 3: Bend over to wash face
Step 4: Withdraw wet tie from sink

ACT 2-EVEN JAMES BOND MAKES LOUD AND RANDOM NOISES.
Step 1:Bend to tie shoe laces
Step 2:Realize you cant bend or bow too much with a jacket on.
Step 3: Flex knee to chest to tie laces.Proud about flexible body.
Step 4: Lose balance and knock over brass flower pot and dust bin.
Step 5: A composed,serious, jacketed gentleman greets the hotel staff with an sophisticated, amused, puzzled look and turns away to tighten his tie before walking away smartly.
Step 6: 20 minutes later a panicky jacketed gentleman runs back to toilet to check misplaced mobile phone.

ACT 3-SUAVE AND SOPHISTICATED LAUGHTER
Step 1: Bend to sign in the register; ignore water droplets that drip on the table from wet tie. Disdainfully dismiss weird looks from next signatory.
Step 2: Agree with Lynn Garnett when she asks if you just flew in
Step 3: Agree with Jay Bourgeois when he asks if you are staying overnight
Step 4: Quickly join in the laughter and after 5 minutes realize it was directed at self.
Step 5: The protagonist smiles wisely at everyone again just to show he is a man of humour and walks off for a glass of Shiraz.

ACT 4-UNE PROBLEME DE COUTURE
Step 1: Join Prof. Jay in animated discussion-listen to how he offered free seats at Univ of Maryland desk for any Indian applicant who could get his name right. You naughty,naughty man!
Step 2: Happily explain about the beauty of Kerala, about the joy of work and ofcourse the Thrissur pooram.
Step 3: Mistake his animated gesture for a handshake and extend own hand.
Step 4: Realize mistake and withdraw hand just when hes extended his.
Step 5: Nervously laugh and spill some wine...put on "I ponder,therefore I am" look and walk off for another glass of Shiraz.
Step 6: Prop up sinking heart after realizing that the prettiest babe in room saw your fumble. Recognize the old "I saw you do it!" chuckle and put on stiff upper lip again.
(To be contd...)

MAD Part 2: The Interview

Preparation
- Trawl the internet for 4 hours on how to buy a new suit.
- Consider 3 buttons, 2 vents, more wool than polyester and ponder between classic black, quiet grey, navy blue and adventurous stripes - consider philosopical questions from friends "Are you zebra?"
- Try out 32 new suits in 4 different showrooms - blow off persistent salesman with specific requirement of "a single vented, three-button grey suit with a 75:25 wool ratio and flatfronted trousers".Run away while he's searching.
- Read up on schools; read up on courses; read up on interviews;practice talking in front of toilet mirrors, surprise maintenance staff at office.
- Hum out answers in the elevator; practice body language and try to act natural when the lift opens on your classic "If I were to slice my career into 4 signficant parts" gesture.
- Dress up for interview.
- Wear just tie, vest and boxers...walk around...just to get those streaks of juvenile lunacy off before the big hour.
- Practice "Serious look", "Thoughtful look", "Look of awe and wonder" and "Thinking fingers aka twirling thumbs".
- Look stupid in sticky new suit.
- Look stupid in sticky new suit in an auto in Bangalore.
- Look very stupid in sticky itchy new suit in front of 3 giggling schoolkids.
- Look very stupid in sticky itchy new suit in front of Nepali gurkha who says interviewers office is closed.
- Consider Vanaprastha in the Himalayas.

Week after 1 okkkkkay interview and 1 good interview
- Start gathering statistics about interviewed vs. selected.
- Pore through Business Week's selectivity and yield ratios for different schools.
- Try to create historical trends and juxtapose them against respective country GDPs and come up with a statistical trend to prove favourable future. (Only for experienced MS Office users; at this point, novices to consider The Art Of Living courses).
- Read interviewed University brochures again and again hoping that the greater laws of the universe will work in favour of those putting in really hard work...ie staring at pretty women in brochures er..sorry...assimilation of the school's culture and statistics.

Week 2 after 1 okkkkkay interview and 1 good interview
- Get smarter...install mobile Gmail on phone.
- Check Gmail on phone every 10 minutes.
- Stop just visiting applicant blogs and instead start commenting - "you got anything yet? what abt u? huh...me too ;-("
- Micro Schadenfreudish relief at people who havent got any invites from your fav schools....then realize the tilting of cosmic scales against you...quickly ask forgiveness and try to swing the scales again...muditaaaaahhhhh! (Powers of the Universe to take note)

Who says life is not beautiful...atleast until Dec 20/21.

Going MAD(MBA Applicant Disease)-Part 1

Common symptoms
Patient cuts off most social contacts.
Walks around with dazed look.
Misses meals at random and wakes up hungry at night.
Dreams on alternate nights about getting selected and getting rejected.
Dream of walking around downtown Chicago, wearing a green Tuckie Tshirt, meeting the girl in the Wharton brochure, the Boston cold and the Stanford heat.
Wakes up with cozy feelings and realizes it was all a dream...deferred.
Often starts praying in the middle of the day.

Detailed breakdown of effects

Week of submission.
Submit online application.
Check next day if application status had turned to "complete" status.
Check again in the evening. And midnight.
Consider sending an enquiry mail to AdCom about status.
Read Dave's blog about persistent applicant horror stories and decide not to.
Repeat checking business until finally breaking loose and sending a "If you dont mind, could you check my application which I submitted (along with $250) a month back and havent even received an acknowledgement yet" (Last drastic step not advisory unless one has the Bush surname.)

1st month post submission
Wake up.
Turn on lappie.
Check mail to see if any i'view invites have come in.
Act surprised that they havent.
Check HBS site to see if status has changed.
Check Stanford site to see if status has changed.
Check Wharton site to see if status has changed.
Check Ross site to see if status has changed.
Check Tuck site to see if status has changed.
Applaud the Chicago and Columbia software which sends updates for every teeny weeny status change.
Walk around with a demented smile after getting 1st invite.
Smile at high targets, smile at the over made up secretary, smile through the pollution, smile through a stupido superboss comment.
Get greedy and go through check-site routine again.

2nd month post submission
Start worrying about 2nd invite.
Invoke God's mercy, grace and goodwill in the 10 seconds that Gmail takes to open.
Option 1 - See spam in mail box that promises enlargements, vitality and every piece of crap except an interview - torn between throttling random spammers and smashing lappie.
Option 2a - See empty mail box and feel totally hollow inside.
Option 2b - See empty mail box and ponder about the mysteries of the universe-calm down with remixed classic quotes "This too shall bloody pass"..."Rome was not built in a frigging day".
Start doing the Mine Vs.Yours-compare no of invites with other applicants.
Start obsessive worrying about not getting any 2nd invite.
Get 2nd invite-do the demented smile routine again.

(The Interview - Contd in Part 2..;-)

Hello Chicago GSB, say Hi to Ganja Turtle...

CHICAGO
Chicago, in comparison to Wharton seems almost, old fashioned...but in a very attractive classic way.Chicago was one of the first universities to start a leadership course and it is, their website claims ...ahem..."still one of the finest". Chicago GSB is known for its strong theoretical foundations and some phenomenal Nobel prize winning faculty. And at a different level, Chicago seems much more level headed and down-to-earth than some of its Ivy league peers. One occasionally hears stories about its "quant-jock" reputation as also about some resident ultra-nerds who use calculus to arrange the furniture...and comes away feeling scared! But interacting with Chicago alumni has somehow put me totally at ease. In the last 2 years of aspiring to go to a business school, I would say the only other school that operates at this personal a level or perhaps at a better level is Tuck - the Tuck staff really impressed me with their very personal touch...if you were to read sghama's blog, you would hear about how he chose Tuck over Chicago... and even Stanford seemed reasonably humble-except for some whacky streaks of "humour",the Stanford reception was quite cool.

But like I found out, apart from the glitzy presentations, the matte laminated classy brochures and the slick websites, the alumni of a B-school remain the best way of finding out how a school is...more or less.

The Chicago interview
Called the alum to fix up a an interview and he was like "dont wear a tie etc"...I was like "Am sorry, sir?"...hes like "Dont wear all that crap - we wanna know how good you are and not how could you look"...am like Wow......"Hey,thank you"...one morning of stupidly roaming around the roads of Bangalore in a dark suit averted!

Managed to find his home located at one of the fabulous palm lined "Hollywoodesque" villa compounds that seem like a piece of America...beautiful place just getting done. The door was opened up by Mrs.Alum who invited me in and offered a glass of water.I sunk into the sofa,came up for air and sunk in again-keenly watched by a pair of cute 10 year old eyes...noticed a lovely copy of a Monet on the wall, a miniature of Cupid & Psyche (After the Pieta, its one of my favs) on the side table. So fa,so good like the ad says. But Ms.Keen-eyes sits opposite me and fixes me with a serious glare...so I try my friendly act "Hi"...and get a stern "HI" for a reply...Over the next 2 minutes, I manage to squeeze out bits of info from the lil lady who glares at me for,I guess,coming on a Sunday morning..."My name is Pooja". Junior who alternates between screaming and smiling and jumping and gurgling was "Vidyuth-brother".

Thankfully the alum comes in by now and rescues me from Ms.Lil Glare...greeted me and took me inside. Explained why and how we would proceed...and the next 1 hour
was easily one of the best interactions I have ever had with an alum - I had read up on his background...what us Tamils would call his "history & geography"...but for
someone who was running his own company and had applied for a fundu patent, he was amazingly down to earth and totally put me at ease...he quizzed me on my goals, my background...whether my childhood was different because of having a Master Mariner father and a professor for a mother...what I planned to at Chicago...why I wrote poetry...and all these questions (I realized later) were almost sidepoints in a what transpired to be a very interesting conversation. He explained how Chicago was good...and why...and why these things mattered. He also explained in a very honest way about what he thought was fundamentally different about Chicago as compared to other schools-with an amazing "3 MBAs in a room" example!(which I have quoted to alteast 10 people by now!)

I was reminded of some of my interactions with prospective students at BIM-Trichy. Finally I was also more than a bit curious about a product that the alums company was coming up with, so asked him to clarify a point which had potential to become an interesting debate....but we were running out of time, so we shook hands and I told him that it was a wonderful experience and possibly my best. I probably sounded like "I think I did really well!" so he said"Thats good for you!"

Its very difficult for an alum to sound this way about an experience or a place unless one is really passionate about it...and in this case, it really showed. It made a whole lot of difference to me - this interview! I am quite convinced that I would fit into Chicago...now if only Ms.Rosemaria Martinelli and her team would agree, we could be done with all the formalities!

Now onwards, my friends,onwards...to 20th December, when the lights of the world will descend on the select few...the chosen ones! Until then like Ulysses,one shall try "to strive, to seek to find and not to yield..."

Hello Wharton! Ganja Here...open up, open up!

Whew...finally managed to complete my interviews for Wharton & Chicago. Became especially tight since, the Wharton i'view was fixed at very short notice.

About the schools
While both Wharton & Chicago are reknowned for the large no of grads who join finance/consulting, there seems to be a very distinct difference about the mindsets that drive students/personalities to Wharton or to Chicago -as a recent alumnus said, they operate on entirely different planes... this is where the famou F word of B-school admissions comes in - "FIT".

WHARTON
Wharton seems to be a classic Ivy league school; takes in a large number of very proactive ultra-confident individuals who want to make a lot of money/ transform themselves and the world. Wharton allows them to freewheel, gives them cutting edge analytical skills from fantastic professors and then unleash them on the world.
A former colleague now at McKinsey remarked that while Harvard guys are born believing that their fathers own the world, Wharton guys step out thinking that they own the world post Wharton. Uber-confident (to the point of being arrogant sometimes), capitalists, Ivy league pedigree and an ability to come on top of any situation - this eems to be the quintessential Wharton grad - I know am going out on a limb here because like every other B-school, there is no "typical" student...but if one were to check the Wharton resume book, speak to alumni, attend receptions and check recruiter speak, this is what one would carry away from the "Wharton" experience.

You wanted to be a master of the universe in your Armani suit and Fendi shades? Wanted to jetset across to the Riviera and fly down to Pattaya for a colleagues engagement and be back in the Big Apple to close THE deal of the month...you belong to Wharton! Although one hears that much of this competitive "shark" reputation is undeserved and is a vestige of the schools investment banking/ financial roots, one cannot clearly make out a stance otherwise. A lot of us esp....sales/mktg/ibankers like this "fast/hard/results" reputation...and if you do, then Wharton is for you. One gets the feeling that to belong to Wharton, you need to be very quick on your toes and mind, have a clear idea of your priorities while at school, have what you can call the entrepreneurial ability to gel-well with a wide range of individuals and kind of do your own unique thing...among 1000 talented others! An amazing school in its own right...maybe ideally suited for the fast forward, global business environment of the 22nd century.Maybe.

THE WHARTON INTERVIEW
I got the standard questions during the Wharton interview...
Run me through your resume...
Where else have you applied?
What are your plans after wharton?
Why Wharton?
Biggest disappointments?
Valued achievements?
Why take you instead of the other 10K odd applicants?

Ganja Turtle did quite well
...as well as one can do in a full suit in a non-a/cd office at 2pm on a Bengalooru afternoon...did a classic Ganja fumble..."So, I basically think I am unique because of a. my passion-in all that I do, my passion shines through...for eg..etc etc.
b. because of my multifaceted personality - I am a performer at work, a quizzer, a poet, a volleyball/tabletennis/soccer player, an avid reader, a martial artist etc etc.
c. and finally because of the amazing experiences that I have been through - Indian telecom in the last 5 years, a merger with an MNC etc etc...

Not being satisfied with merely stating 3 points, GT attempts a masterly conclusion here...
"So to sum it up...
"ONE"(thumb goes up-amaerican shtyle) My experiences...
"TWO"(a well practiced index finger pops out) my multifacetedness (all behold, a new word was born!)
"THREE"....the middle finger pops out right on time...but my mind jams....uh oh...total traffic jam. I try to do the "thinkers frown" while my mind desperateley races about what the #@&$%# my first point was...but naaahhhh...while my finger twitches around, my mind says naaahhh,not today,boy!

Thankfully, the interviewer had the graciousness to turn away and start writing in his golden monogrammed Wharton notebook.

Except for this big stumble (aow!) and one small one (ouch) about Whartons core curriculum, I think I managed to come across quite well - expressed my career goals,
the reason behind pursuing my MBA and why Wharton. Somehow all I do now is to think and chuckle about this goof-up...a colleague tells me its my way of rationalizing a
bad experience...thats me, your everyday Freud, chuckling away while the gates of U.Penn slowly close...(slow, flowing sad music and lights dim,please!)

More about Chicago in my next post...

A Young Warrior

The Tamils were the perhaps the only spoilsports to the myth of India being a peaceloving country without imperialistic intentions.The Cholas raised their Tiger flag in Ceylon,the islands of Indonesia and all in-between. Although this cannot be termed as a full scale invasion,some Indians did once set out of their land with eyes on the soil of distant foreign lands.

The brutal internecine warfare of the South Indian races - Cheras,Cholas,Pandyas, Pallavas have given rise to countless literary works that celebrate courage, invincibility and dauntlessness.But as someone who's always liked to turn over a rock to see whats on the other side,I found this also....

A Young Warrior
- Ponmutiyar (translated by A. K. Ramanujan)

O heart
sorrowing
for this lad
once scared of a stick
lifted in mock anger
when he refused
a drink of milk,
now
not content with killing
war elephants
with spotted trunks,
this son
of the strong man who fell yesterday
seems unaware of the arrow
in his wound,
his head of hair is plumed
like a horse's,
he has fallen
on his shield,
his beard still soft.


And just a curious fact peeping out from the leaves of history: When is a mistake not a mistake? In language at least, the answer to this question is “When everyone adopts it,” and on rare occasions, “When it's in the dictionary.”

The word internecine presents a case in point. It usually has the meaning “relating to internal struggle,” but in its first recorded use in English, in 1663, it meant “fought to the death.” How it got from one sense to another is an interesting story in the history of English. The Latin source of the word, spelled both internecnus and internecvus, meant “fought to the death, murderous.” It is a derivative of the verb necre, “to kill.” The prefix inter- was here used not in the usual sense “between, mutual” but rather as an intensifier meaning “all the way, to the death.”

This piece of knowledge was unknown to Samuel Johnson, however, when he was working on his great dictionary in the 18th century. He included internecine in his dictionary but misunderstood the prefix and defined the word as “endeavoring mutual destruction.” Johnson was not taken to task for this error. On the contrary, his dictionary was so popular and considered so authoritative that this error became widely adopted as correct usage. The error was further compounded when internecine acquired the sense “relating to internal struggle.” This story thus illustrates how dictionaries are often viewed as providing norms and how the ultimate arbiter in language, even for the dictionary itself, is popular usage.

By this and this only...

...blood shaking my heart
The awful daring of a moment's surrender
Which an age of prudence can never retract,
By this, and this only, we have existed,
Which is not to be found in our obituaries
Or in memories draped by the beneficent spider
Or under seals broken by the lean solicitor
In our empty rooms.

- Thomas Stearns Eliot (The Wasteland)

Once upon a time ago, I had a well nourished tummy...

A long pending tag about an old favourite…mom’s cooking!

Although mom had and still has a full time job, she somehow multi-tasks and remains the world’s best cook…with her birthday coming up next week, this tag seems a fitting salut to the magic of her love and to the 1000s of meals that we were force fed then and miss now.


Mom’s long beans poriyal
Theres some wonderful magic that mom does with plain long beans and tomatoes. A spicy and simple dish, she used to store this in a big bowl when she went out of town for her weekend classes. Weekend meals for me and my bro used to be beans dosa, beans sandwich, rice & beans…and we loved it! (for the first few months atleast)!

Idiyappam+ Maasi or cheeni sambal
First of all the idiyappam…they need to be fine strings –for this you need gadgets with tiny holes and the energy to keep the idiyappam press going on and on and on… When we weren’t messing it up trying to do that, mom did this exceedingly well.
Combo #1 - Maasi sambal
A coconut+lime+powdered dry fish thingy, I could pack in more than 15 idiyappams accompanied with this amazing dish. The only difficult part is scraping the coconut and getting good quality dried fish (without sand)…but its worth it!
Combo #2 - Cheeni sambal
Burnt sugar+lots of cut onions+dry fish powder+lots of simmering= 1 yummy yum yum dish- 1 months stock of which that Dad carried in a steel container when he went off to ship. This can be made very thick and mixed with milk to be diluted if and when more peoples turn up for grub…or if one gets hungrier!
The best part about both these dishes is Mum could somehow always make the usually nasty smell of dried fish disappear in 10 minutes. Some women are amazing!

Sambar of any sort
Sambhars make for wonderful accompaniment for idlis, rice and dosas. And mum knows atleast 3 different sambhars…on top of which, she can make them change taste between morning to evening to night – for idlis, it’s a more watery and spicy sambhar. For rice, she adds whole small onions (me likes crunching them!) and varies combinations with different vegetables like radishes, drumsticks and ladiesfingers. At night for dosas, she adds potatoes which somehow absorb the sambhar’s flavour in less than half an hour.

Tomato/ Onion/ Garlic chutneys
Amazing how mom can whip up any of the above chutneys in all of 5 minutes and still make them so amazingly tasty. I miss them all!

Pepper liver gravy
An old favourite of Dad’s, this is usually made on X’mas or New Year night so that we have some nice n spicy gravy and idlis when we return hungry after midnight mass. But its best the next day morning, seasoned and slightly fermented.

Fish/ crab gravy
Fish gravy is as indispensable during weekends because you can have it with anything –idlis/chapattis/parathas/rice/idlis/dosas- and dad being a fish freak, there was always lots of this at home. Crab gravy was special because it requires a 3 hour, 2 handed lunch to do justice to the juicy meat-there is that magical moment when you manage to cleave your way past the shells and a small white cluster plops into your palm!

Meatball gravy
Theres supposedly a patented family recipe behind this masala – this involves collecting a whole lot of random things, measuring them, and forcing kids to take them to the mill for grinding. But such kids are later mollified by being given “pre-serving samples” of the gravy and patties well before lunch.


Dad’s fish and prawn fry
The kitchen was usually mom’s kingdom…except when Dad was in a fish fry/prawn fry mood. This is not as simple as it seems. Aforementioned little boys are called in from various sleeping/TV-watching/play areas and are forced to help one strong captain with 14 inch biceps. For fish, the process is relatively simple – the fish cleaning water has to be poured from plant to plant so that sometime in the distant future “we can pluck shiny red tomatoes for salad”.
Cleaning prawns is a bit more dirty and complicated, one has to break the shell-then with a small knife, you need to clean it of one dirty strip…and then rinse. Dirty forced labour, but no one ever rescued us…after lunch, we were quite happy to forget such trauma.

After this the captain took over…masala is lovingly created and pushed into slits in the fish’s body…the flame is kept ONLY at simmer (fiddlers with the flame are threatened with various punishments ranging from being hung upside down to permanent exile without monetary support) and some “extra special” pieces are fried in coconut oil. The best fish cleaning volunteer was usually awarded with fried fish eggs in their tiny pouches…because by eating them, “you can get the strength of a hundred fishes”. There usually was a noticeable puffing up of a little chest for about 5 minutes after eating fish eggs.

And now I am hungry!

Buhlogging & tagging in the free world...

Are you happy/satisfied with your blog, its content and look? Does your family know about your blog?
I do not reminisce about nor rate my blog; it is and I am and we are happy with each other! Hmmm….maybe my brother knows…am sure mom doesnt. Yes, (voice deepens in that earth shaking infidelity revelation hindi movie tone…) let me admit that the fear that Blackie wouldn’t approve has kept me from revealing this dark truth to a darker doggie.

Do you feel embarrassed to let your friends know about your blog or do you consider it a private thing?
It’s a private thing; some of my closest friends know, some acquaintances have found out by accident. But I would rather have a space where I can write without having to appease different personalities or per-ordained cultures. Veritas vos liberabit.

Did blogs cause positive changes in your thoughts?
Yup…other bloggers like Alex have been a source of great inspiration and support. At other times, browsing through favourite blogs like silverine, confused female (whats new!), Arunther Dent have taken my mind off irritating work issues and given me a quiet smile….sometimes too loud a chuckle in office! ;-)

Do you only open the blogs of those who comment on your blog or you love to go and discover more by yourself?
(Guilty look 8-X)…yes, given that work is tight, that’s the normal routine that I follow…but from people like DoZ, I have chanced upon some fantastic blogs like India Uncut, A simple..., falstaff etc…I like to explore and discover…blog-hop, as the lady puts it, but hardly have the time.

What does the visitors counter mean to you? Do you care about putting it in your blog?
I don’t have one and actually it doesn’t matter. I write for myself more than others…its like biking or listening to a favorite song-you love it and you do it; but its also fun when you have a couple of others who understand and can join in.

Did you try to imagine your fellow bloggers and give them real pictures?
Guilty as charged…much as I hate to admit it, I do this…esp. with some wimmens…Hope is a tattered flag and a dream of time, Hope is a heart-spun word, the rainbow, the shadblow in white ;-)

Do you think there is a real benefit for blogging?
I think blogs are like scribble pads, diaries and journals… a vehicle of expression. Some are intensely personal, some are for the world at large, some a combo. Am too lazy on a Sunday morning to think further through this koshtin. Shorryyaawn.

Do you think that bloggers society is isolated from real world or interacts with events?
There is no “bloggers society”…atleast not in India where net penetration is at ridiculous levels. But in times of calamity and tragedy, bloggers seem to react and reach out to help…as do most of us in our real life.

Does criticism annoy you or do you feel it's a normal thing?
Yes, I HAVE A PROBLEM. If you have incisive thoughts about what I have written or have a serious counterpoint, feel free to join the fun and make your point. But sometimes an invisible line is crossed and this irritates me to no extent, makes me curl up my lips and tighten my biceps and reminds me of something I did long long ago as a kid “This is my corner, you like it, you like it. You don’t, go away.” Opinions are welcome , not judgements.

Do you fear some political blogs and avoid them?
Lights, Camera, Action…

“Fear?….ha ha ha…me?… ha ha ha….fear ha ha ha”

Director: That’s enough – CUT!
Sorry...carried away by tamil movie emoshuns!

Did you get shocked by the arrest of some bloggers?
I didn’t even know about it. I heard about Gaurav Sabnis and think hes a stud. Otherwise chill.

Did you think about what will happen to your blog after you die?
No, I don’t. I have enough things to live for and I don’t have the time or inclination to consider death and its effects.

What do you like to hear? What's the song you might like to put a link to in your blog?
I would love to hear a raspy Dylan or Baez in her soprano glory sing Forever Young:

Forever Young
May God bless and keep you always,
May your wishes all come true,
May you always do for others
And let others do for you.
May you build a ladder to the stars
And climb on every rung,
May you stay forever young,
Forever young, forever young,
May you stay forever young.

May you grow up to be righteous,
May you grow up to be true,
May you always know the truth
And see the lights surrounding you.
May you always be courageous,
Stand upright and be strong,
May you stay forever young,
Forever young, forever young,
May you stay forever young.

May your hands always be busy,
May your feet always be swift,
May you have a strong foundation
When the winds of changes shift.
May your heart always be joyful,
May your song always be sung,
May you stay forever young,
Forever young, forever young,
May you stay forever young.

My musical taste is contextual and very eclectic, to say the least – it varies too much to pinpoint a particular preference.

For Alex, The Rock

I am thinking…I haven’t started work on my apps tonight …Seriously I often think about how I am missing out spending time with my mom, my dog and my home because of work.

I said…so far, so good, so what.

I want wine, woman, books, dogs, cottage in the hills, piano lessons and a 200 year old Japanese katana.

I wish I could write prose like Nabokov and poetry like Neruda.

I miss my father.

I hear the long whistle of the train.

I wonder at life, the universe and everything else.

I regret George W. Bush.

I am the Master of my fate, the Captain of my soul. So help me, God.

I dance...I do? Nah, not my style. I like watching friends dance, though.

I sing on my bike on the long and winding road.

I cry…no, I don’t.

I am not Elvis Presley, but my hair thinks it is.

I write stuff vaguely resembling poetry.

I confuse, he confuses, they confuse, we confuse, it confuses. Merci Beaucoup.

I need my family.

I should visit Europe.

I (don’t) finish water in bottles. A strange and useful habit. On long nights, on long waits, on long roads that go on and on and on.

Waking in the winter wonderland...

Today is one of those lovely days...it has been raining with a steady "kssssssssssssshhhhhhh" sound since I woke up at 6am...and serious slanting rain, splattering into your face when you stand in the balcony...all the world is grey and green and there is no horizon; just a misty sky that becomes a dark green earth...and I just had to whisper "Mother earth, you look beautiful today".

Now lets hope that office doesnt screw it up!

The View–1 more reason not to leave Kerala (PART 2)

The view from my flat-What at seemed a quiet evening soon became a furious fire…


First signs





Fury




Finale




Embers




Misty Grey & Green Morning After.



Amen and Thank You.

The View–1 more reason not to leave Kerala (PART 1)

The view from my office window.
I can gaze at hours at this serene meditation centre and come away feeling refreshed. When it rains, the pigeons cluck around and after reaching a quick consensus huddle under the eaves. When it doesn’t, bigger males patiently follow roaming females who lead them round and round in circles. Sounds familiar? ;-)



The view as I enter office (a.k.a. “I AM watching”)
Four churches within walking distance and the smell of frankincense and wax wafting through the air every time I come near office. Considering that I spend almost 10-12 hours every day at work , the fact I can drop into a quiet church for a few silent minutes whenever I feel like is a small perk which gives me severe happiness.



The view from my conference room
Students, parties, villagers, women–everybody comes to the Marine Drive to protest, march and create general mayhem. Nothing like a view with barricades, banners and a bunch of cops to break a dull coffee filled meeting. Note the barricades on the wrong road; on seeing the barricade, the students took a quick diversion to the opposite road and the startled police quickly followed suit. Student activism - Malaise? Menace? Must? Great arguments never end in Kerala–they just take a different route.



The view from the boss room
It helps that one has a decent boss. It really really helps that the decent boss has a room with a decent view and decent appetite-a stock of Hersheys and Oreos for those mind-crunching brainstorming sessions. From cruise ships to breaking thunderstorms to oil tankers to noisy tourists to fishermen in catamarans to funny birds with bright green wings, I never get tired of this view. At night the glitter of the harbour, the swaying of the giant cranes and the steady drizzle of the rain make for a wonderful end to the day. Corner room, here I come.

Chicago GSB @ Bangalore

Attended the Chicago GSB reception at Bangalore yesterday. Along with approx. 100 other talented, extraordinary Indians who all want to make it to the Windy City. Amen.

The presentation moved on a semi-formal note; Kurt Olsen (?) the Adcom head introduced himself and a couple of alums and went on to explain about the school.

Main points touted about the school were:
 70 Nobel Prize winners as faculty (tempted to ask how many of them teach but desisted)
 Chicago has the 2nd highest no of Fortune 500 offices next to the Big Apple.
 If you are going to do your 2nd MBA, you need to clearly explain Why.
 Alumni network is very strong and quite dedicated (is what one would assume based on the ppt)
 All the alumni present there had worked for quite some time in the US before applying for Chicago.
 Being in a top school is like getting invited to the dance; what you do at the “recruiting” dance is upto you.
 New Hyde Park centre which is like a giant glass lobby in the middle of the Univ.
 Guaranteed loan without cosignors available for international students.
 TOEFL can be waived for good English speakers.
 Other arbitrary points adding up to saying that you need to spend approx. 50 lakhs for 2 years.

Alumni
 “Cool dude” looking alumni casually mentioned “Started a company in 2000; sold it in 2003; started and operating my 2nd company”…and audience is like “oooooohhh” Am like “Me, I do that every week”.
 Another squeaky voiced current student explained how he is “discovering himself” and learning to do all kinds of dancing over there. Expensive classes, these $100,000 dollar dancing classes.
 Another s/ware techie alum explained how he had come out of the US and was working with HP out of B’lore. Bugger got irritated about how the audience wasn’t sticking to the question format

Grub
 Looked appetizing but I missed it since the bus to Cochin was at 9pm.

Conclusion
 Chicago was in my original list of schools for 1st round applications. Now decision stands firm.

1st Anniversary

Been 1 year since I started blogging, so here we go again…reprint of one of my oldest favourites.

• This was in response to a British Council competition where one had to create a poem with the following words:


• Paint/ hue/ Chi-chi/ riff-raff/lava/ jasmine/ dolourous/ gorilla/ sinuous/ whorl/ avant-garde/ mish-mash/ cubicle.


• Came out better than I thought it would in the half an hour that I took to write it. I hope they appreciate such bursts of creativity at Tuck or Harvard or Wharton ;-)

LAB REPORT 312: SPILT QUICKSILVER.
She was just that type,
Who did not paint her toenails,
Hue her lips,
Shadow her eyes,
But dared you to imagine them
Painted.She was just that type
Who kissed all dogs on the mouth,
All the Jimmys,Chi-Chis,Babus,
Blackies,Manis,Brunos.
All veteran riff-raffs,
Of the mongrel world.
And it was thus that,
An initially enchanted Dr.Seetharaman-Very famous veterinarian,
Her fiancee of 2 months
18 hand-holdings,
3 kisses-2 full,2 halfs(Kisses being what they are,
she was quite precise)
5 hushed dinners,And one Solitaire ring,
Broke off the engagement,
Citing hygienic reasons.

She was just that type,
Who lets you burn
In dark green envy,And then dips in the lava
That you pour forth,
Burns herself,
And so diffusesA smouldering scent so
Unlike the fresh smell of jasmine,or the slightly wet lily after rain.
This was that burnt,sandalwood incense-smell
That promised hidden Garba-grihas
The sanctum sanctorums
Inside her Sanskrit mind,
For those who dared to stroll
Those nether regions,
She offered dark Chidambaram temples With small lamps in damp corners
Where the stone sculptures
Cannot be seen, only felt.
Such were the perceptual promises of
Her sinuous mind.

She was just that type,
Pretended to murmur secret invitations
To your best male friends,
Chaiwallahs, melon-sellers,
And the traffic policemen.
Just to see
That red rage of a matador's muleta
Wave so well on your windy cheeks
Just to hear
That angry Wagner refrain
Dancing in your lighted eyes,
And then when you start to
Silently trade sound for frozen fury,
She would coyly become
Amy,the amazing African gorilla
Who could speak
Over 2000 words
With only her fingertips.
And dolourous eyes.


She was just that type,
Who could and did in a moments glance,
Make mish-mash of your
Carefully rehearsed proposal,
Gleefully unaware that you had
ractised it for 4 hours


In front of the toothpaste stained bathroom mirror.
And so would make you slightly crush that
The outermost-whorl of that
Hidden red rose in your jeans pocket.
Slightly.
And suddenly all the soft pink words
On ribboned paper,
Start sounding silly
For avant-garde Athena,
Who proceeds to explain
The Fibonacci sequence
On a paper napkin,
With vague arrangements of peanuts,
For analogy.


She was just the type,
Who hungrily devours,
All the arguments that
You had carefully stored
In your mind's cubicles.
And proceeds to fill those shelves
With bottled kerosene
Which she can at will
Set afire
By shooting and so shattering.

She was just the type,
That 25 mercuric years
And 30 inches of Levis
Could barely contain with quiet restraint.
And so she jumped
Out of the 6th floor window
On a clear, sunny,
Sky-blue evening of Darjeeling's sunshine,
Twelve months after she said Yes,
Nine months after her father punched me,
Six months after we walked down
A flowery-arched aisle,
She in snowy white, me in Armani blue.
The day those giggly piggy-tailed flower girls
Almost lost our ring.


But in passing mention, I must say that
She was just the type who
Could and did carefully remove that ring,
Posted it,
From a 6th floor room,
On a clear, sunny,
Sky-blue evening of Darjeeling's sunshine.


I am bored; therefore I tag – Silverine/ Alexis/ Tyler Durden/ Mind Curry – to try this out.

Truth Vs Good.

Today I bent the truth to be kind, and I have no regret, for I am far surer of what is kind than I am of what is true.
- Robert Brault, software developer, writer (1938- )

1000s of words...

She did this to me. She who is called Silverine .

1.Most desired celebrity


Why Angelina?
Not because she’s bisexual. Not because she adopted Maddox from a Cambodian orphanage. Not because she’s got luscious lips and a figure to match. Not because she founded the National Council for Refugee & Immigrant Children. Not for being delightfully nude in Original Sin. Not because she adopted Zahara from Africa and not because Zahara means flower in Swahili. Not because she chose to be a mother and gave birth to a daughter in Namibia. Not for saying “Why sodomize dragonflies?”. Not for naming her daughter Shiloh-“The Peaceful One”. Not for that wet T-shirt photo. Not for being the god-daughter of another famous wet T-shirt wearer – Jacqueline Bisset. Not for that slinky sexy voice of Lola in Shark Tale. Not for publishing a collection of notes while travelling across the world as a UN Goodwill Ambassador. Not for the half a million she got for allowing People to photograph her while pregnant and not for donating it to a Haitian charity. Not for the "A prayer for the wild at heart, kept in cages" tattooed on her left forearm. Not because her name means “Little Angel” in Italian. Not because she collects knives. Not because she likes her “sex to be wild”. Not for her $1 million to Afghanistan….What at all could it be?!?

2.Want to do this some day






Backpack through Italy, France, Germany, Austria, Switzerland, Poland, Greece, Spain...(If I said Europe, I know someone who will bash me up ;-) Trace the marble folds of The Pieta, ride a gondola in Venice, drink coffee in Rome, toss a coin into the Trevi fountains, eat sprungli in Zurich, sacher-torte in Vienna, breathe the rarefied air of Jungfraujoch, see the sun through stained glass at Notre Dame, tread the ruins of the Acropolis and sleep for a night in the hills of Sicily. One at a time - the money is the only thing holding it back.


3.Want to visit this place

ALASKA
Touch a whale, watch bears, walk across glaciers, mush with huskies, aurora borealis, kayak down the Kenai, sea lions on a rock, bull-moose in the wilderness, mirror-lake at noon, the mountains at midnight.


4.Random Favorite
“How many roads must a man walk down
Before you call him a man”
- Bob Dylan.

The trappings…
Lord Horatio Nelson, Viscount and Baron Nelson, of the Nile and of Burnham Thorpe in the County of Norfolk, Baron Nelson of the Nile and of Hillborough in the said County, Knight of the Most Honourable Order of the Bath, Vice Admiral of the White Squadron of the Fleet, Commander in Chief of his Majesty's Ships and Vessels in the Mediterranean, Duke of Bronte in Sicily, Knight Grand Cross of the Sicilian Order of St Ferdinand and of Merit, Member of the Ottoman Order of the Crescent, Knight Grand Commander of the Order of St. Joachim.

The truth…
- Started as a seaman, ended as an Admiral.
- Captain of HMS Hinchinbroke, HMS Boreas, HMS Albemarle, HMS Agamemnon, HMS Theseus, HMS Captain, HMS Fourdroyant, HMS Victory.
- Sufferer of chronic sea sickness & near death malaria.
- Lost an eye. Lost an arm. Went to sea again.
- Originator of 1.The Nelson Touch 2.“England expects that every man will do his duty” 3. “Thank God I have done my duty".
- Leader of Men, Master Mariner, Volcano Lover.

5. I was tagged by Silverine
.
Danks u for the image posting tip, lady.It was a pain, but looks like its well worth it

Ithaka!

- Constantine P. Cavafy

As you set out for Ithaka
hope your road is a long one,
full of adventure, full of discovery.
Laistrygonians, Cyclops,
angry Poseidon-don't be afraid of them:
you'll never find the things like that on your way
as long as you keep thoughts raised high,
as long as a rare excitement
stirs your spirit and your body.
Laistrygonians, Cyclops,
wild Poseidon-you won't encounter them
unless you bring them along inside your soul,
unless your soul sets them up in front of you.

Hope your road is a long one.
May there be many summer mornings when,
with what pleasure, what joy,
you enter harbors you're seeing for the first time;
may you stop at Phoenician trading stations
to buy fine things,
mother of pearl and coral, amber and ebony.
sensual perfume of every kind-
as many sensual perfumes as you can;
and may you visit many Egyptian cities
to learn and go on learning from their scholars.

Keep Ithaka always in your mind.
Arriving there is what you're destined for.
But don't hurry the journey at all.
Better if it lasts for years,
so you're old by the time you reach the island,
wealthy with all you've gained on the way,
not expecting Ithaka to make you rich.

Ithaka gave you the marvelous journey.
Without her you wouldn't have set out.
She has nothing left to give you now.

And if you find her poor, Ithaka won't have fooled you.
Wise as you will have become, so full of experience,
you'll have understood by then what these Ithakas mean.


WHAT I LIKE ABOUT THIS POEM....

ITHAKA - THE TITLE
I have always been enamoured by history, myth, places & journeys; One of my other favs is Ulysses (Tennyson). And the title of the poem, like the label of a wine or the name of a woman, is a fascinating precursor to what is yet to come. Sometimes in flowing harmony, sometimes in crashing discord! ;-)

THE CORE
The journey is the reward...it was Ulysses' choice to go on "a" journey and go on "this" journey...too often we miss out these journeys and and prefer to stay at the safe harbour of home...and caught in the humdrum of everyday life, we dont even realize what we are missing out...and am not just talking about a physical journey from moor to mountain, but the journey to a decision, to a career, to a relationship where we often prefer the taken path, the broken road...at these times, we need the vision to see our own Ithakas ...with firmly rooted feet ofcourse.

Also what I have come to know as my locus of control funda - what you are decides what the world is...
"you won't encounter them
unless you bring them along inside your soul,
unless your soul sets them up in front of you"
What we see and what we feel during a journey is as much as what we want to as much as what is there...a nights wait at a strange airport, a 5 minute stopover in some foreign field, a funnily named dish...think adventure!

THE IMAGERY
"Laistrygonians, Cyclops,
wild Poseidon"
"mother of pearl and coral, amber and ebony.
sensual perfume of every kind-
as many sensual perfumes as you can"
WoW!

THE END
"you'll have understood by then what these Ithakas mean"
In utter awe of this line...what an end! The poem ends in the same way that Ulysses would have ended his journey...a rugged man with his proud scars and Penelope, reminiscing, on the white cliffs of Greece with a cup of wine gazing at the crashing sea and the wild wild sun...as it goes down.

UNKNOWN FACTS ABOUT BEING AND NOTHINGNESS. AKA GANJA TURTLE.

My Accent: Not South Indian but definitely Indian. For a brief 1 week in Zurich, it was for a while all-American and sometimes zee Française, but after concerted coercive efforts by fellow travelers, had to come back to Indian.

Drink: Cherry brandy, Johnie Walker, Breezers…so on and so forth…but my favourite is water.

Chore I Hate: Cleaning the mess made by a roomie…dirty clothes, wet towels, unwashed cutlery…some people.

Dog or Cat: Doggie lovers of the world unite.

Essential Electronics: Laptop/Computer, Digicam, mobile phone with a stereo headset.

Perfume: Azzaro when I am myself, Boss Dark Blue at work. (Yes, that's decidedly supposed to sound like an old favourite Raymonds ad “If it’s Tuesday, it must be the Aston Martin” – does it? Lol.

Gold or Silver: Na, I don’t like adornments…like you know…my biceps usually serve da purpose.

Home: Home is where-ever my mom, brother and dog are.

Insomnia: Twice– Eve of an Operations Research Exam during 1st year MBA; then 1st month in sales – the fear of failure kept me running all night long into dawn.

Job Title: Product Manager.

Living Arrangements: Flat + 3. In probably the most beautiful state in India.

Most Admirable Traits: Ugh…I don’t like talking about myself. I am told that I am helpful, loyal, modest, creative and passionate about what I believe in. Sometimes am told otherwise ;-)

Number of Sexual Partners: Ah…une questione delicatesse...we are what we are as much as by what we do not do, as much as what we do…Yeah, that means that GT scores a 0.

Number of times in hospital: Countless times! Never for myself– am the resident expert on hospitals admissions, treatment, payments, insurance, how to arrange shifts, make payments, request for doctors, what to say to patients, how to help nurses etc etc. God bless all the good doctors and the gentle nurses of the world.

Phobias: A death in the immediate family.

Quotes:
To strive, to seek, to find and not to yield.
The journey is the reward.
That awful daring of a moments surrender,
which an age of prudence can never retract,
by this and this only have we lived.
Ask not what the meaning of life is, for life is the question – And you...you are the answer. (Me? Na,not me. Hes talking about YOU)

Religion: Catholic

Siblings: A younger brother

Time I Wake Up: GT considers this question…dribbles it along the corners of his mind…jiggles like it a jelly…juggles it like a joker and finally comes up with a classic shot that almost wins the Nobel prize for its universal applicability… “It depends”.

Unusual Talent or Skill: I can crack my right toe as many times as I want to. Hey, hey, you are the one who said unusual! Ok, ok…here’s one more - I am the fastest SMSer in town.

Vegetable I Love: I like Avial and all that goes into it – the drumstick, the brinjal(Go BBLC!), the raw banana, the carrot. Besides this I love rajma, butter beans and soya beans. How did I miss out on tomatoes! And raw carrots! And spinach & lettuce when my mom makes it. Also mom’s secret recipe for beans+tomato fry. And also the grilled ladies-finger mixed in curd. If mushrooms are a vegetable, I like them too, luuuuv them in fact. And I think crunchy boiled broccoli is yummy. Fried cauliflower dipped in bread crumbs too. Er, u did say vegetableS, didn’t you…

Worst Habit: I think faster than I can speak and this makes me sound confused and garbled at times. While this is not particularly a problem when am talking to myself or to my dog (who after two bowls of Pedigree is the very epitome of patience), it does become a problem when you need to explain the rationale behind a product launch in 2 sentences to your bosses’ big boss. Am working on this-watch this space (And if you see a big black dog in it, you will know that not much progress has been made)

X-Rays: Twice. Once when I fell backwards and hit my head on the pavement. 2nd time when my motorcycle skidded and got caught under a police van. The protagonist and his loyal black bike were inseparably dragged along for about 20 meters before the police van decided,sparks et al, that we weren’t about to commit any crime while being dragged along the main road in Madurai and detached us from its metallic grip.

Yummy Food I Make: Am usually the fast & reliable assistant during this complicated cooking business – I clean/cut stuff quite fast. But what I can cook really well is the simpler stuff - the pastas, noodles, jellies, custards and fruit salads of the world. Yeah, fruit salad is a dish. And you kinda cook-make it. Savvy?

Zodiac Sign: Capricorn.

People tagged to do it: Since the bevy of obliging women who usually throng around Ganja Turtle seem to be in shleepy shleepy land, GT leaves it to blog-mosis to carry out his supreme will. Spread forth, admirable & gentle tag!

Le GMAT est mort! Viva Le Ganja!

The renowned and respectable Ganja Turtle took the GMAT ON 19th June.After digitally signing, videographing, fingerprinting about 10 times and finishing a bottle of water + 3 bars of Kitkat, Ganja managed to get a score...

Overall Score - 710/ 94 percentile
Quant - 48/ 86 percentile
Verb - 39/ 89 percentile

Considering I would have been happy with exactly 700 and dreamt wild about getting a 720, this was a bonus. Considering I was scoring just about 40 in Math during prep, this was a lottery.Considering that all my prep & dummy test scores were hovering around the 660-680 mark, this was a godsend.

Thanks to all of Ganjas friends for their unstinting support - right from Arunther Dent in the US of A who reminded me that I didnt want to be stuck in a cubicle in Kerala all my life, to peoples in Bangalore who have been checking my prep once a week, to peoples who woke me up early everyday at 6am so that I could study, to peoples who made me so afraid of failing, to people who by already did "it" & set a clear example, to peoples who wished me the very best as I was about to go in. More than the fact that they did it, is the fact that I seem to be worthy of their time and effort ;-)
Thank God for everything.
Thanks to the squeaky talking characters in the Kaplan Software who shout "yaaaaaaaaay" everytime you answer correct.
Thanks to my....er....we dont want this becoming an Oscar acceptance speech, so we will hold on to that for now.

Now a man can get back to his regular work, drink, blog and books. Feels like someone just lifted a millstone off my chest - cant believe it could be such a relief to go back home after work and not study! To wake up in the morning and not study! To go home for the weekend and not study! Whew!

Ivy League, here I come!

Ars Gratia

Sometimes past midnight, I like to step out onto the balcony of my 10th floor apartment and stare at the sleeping sentinel that is Cochin. Tonight is one of those nights.

One part of me just likes to observe the stillness of the infinite night that seems to have lulled this ancient city into inaction; the other part of me quietly revels in mundane Ansel Adam-like snapshots of the night  - a row of autos napping outside a sodium-lit street; the simulated fluttery panic of drying trouser legs in the night breeze; the surreal mists of the distant refinery drifting about, searching for a place they can call home; the occasional glimmer among indigo waves as ships seek respite from the depths of darkness.

At such times, one feels compelled to let the mind wander on its own accord, sweeping through childhood memories, existential dilemmas, imagining grandchildren, wondering why Million Dollar Baby had to end thataways, why Erich Segal had to kill her, why do men kill whales, why our next generation will not probably see a magnificent live tiger…or why one wrote the blog that one did. It also helps that when one wants to sound unearthly and philosophical – in sync with the god-like feeling that a 10th floor view at midnight can inspire - one starts saying “one” more often that “I”.

It is this that brings me to recant some of what I wrote about martial arts in my previous post – as an immediate penance, let me affirm that there are obvious and serious benefits that practicing Martial Arts can bring about:

Health
Unless you are a diehard aerobics practitioner or have your own personal trainer, it is very unlikely that you are doing enough exercise to justify the tonnes of Lays, Pepsi and Black Forest  that you inflict on your stomach (Speak for yourself, you say?- I hear you!).

An hour and a half of martial arts can take care of this – normally any martial arts class starts with warm up exercises which would include stretching, pushups, jogging etc. Next in line would be slightly more rigorous muscle group exercises like crunches or squats or swinging your limbs. Now comes the more serious business of specific punches, blocks and kicks – variations on upper/ lower/ middle/ left/ right themes…and then katas – these are sequences of punches, kicks, blocks which usually involve movement.  Next would be sparring with an opponent and then the warm-down.

At the end of this, your joints creak and the muscle pain kicks in after the endorphins wear off – but it is such an exquisite pain – the pain of realizing the limits that you can push your body to perform – the pain of growing new muscles – the pain of putting in 2 hours of effort and having reached that ledge on a mountain face where you can take a glance at the rising sun & then move on to the next narrow toehold…now that’s a tad too poetic, so to get back to where we were – yeah, you definitely do get healthier if you start practicing tae-kwon-do or karate or kalari. You choose.

Confidence
No, its not the adrenalin rush of that last para that’s talking – its me – really! For a species that claims to have evolved enough to start measuring EQ, there’s still a considerable amount of respect reserved for brute physical/ muscular power among us peoples. And that’s where yours truly ancient Japanese/ Chinese/ Indian practices can kick in – like the much blamed Drill Sergeant of generations of army cadets, the Arts (ahem!) whet your body and mind into a fine fighting weapon – like the respective presidents of both India & Pakistan would like to claim, the possession of power (nuclear or otherwise) has a far superior effect than its actual exercise. That you go through a regime of self defence exercises and therefore have a finely honed body and mind can be at times extremely exhilarating, but mostly bring out that quiet sense of self-assurance that “situations” can be “handled”. I remember imitating “Clark” after reading Tom Clancy - scanning the environment constantly for any deviants/ anomalies – human or otherwise; assessing threats and adjusting oneself to handle a situation should one arise. While this gives a few initial fake rushes of blood to the head, over a period of time, this habit gives a clear sense of confidence to a practitioner arising out of superior knowledge leading to control in the event of exigencies (my GMAT vocab prep, how it shows!).

Focus/ Concentration
Surprising but true – when you are in the dojo floor against an opponent, you are in a parallel universe where nothing else matters. To succeed in this case, to get in a punch, to  force a block or to snap a kick, your mind has to handle more than 10 different vectors of thought – the terrain, your position, what blow should be used, from which direction, what is the fall back option, when should one attack and what should this blow achieve (for e.g., make your opponent retreat/ immobilize him/ create an opening for a more powerful blow/ block a potential offensive blow while you get into position etc). At the onset, all this is total chaos meets sheer survival instinct – you just need to last there for 5 minutes vs. a taller, fiercer opponent without going down – and so one does all that is required to fill the 5 minutes – including kicking up dust, hugging your opponent in sudden gushes of affection, prancing (dignified running ;-) around the ring while your pal tracks you like a wolf circling around a lamb. But over a period of mind, if one is interested enough, you can bring about the power of focus to the arena – for e.g do a quick check of height/weight/SWOT of the opponent beforehand, deciding when one needs the adrenalin rush and what the mind need to conjure up to deliver the rush of hormones, checking out which side the light is and therefore which angles are likely to be blinding etc. Once the fight is underway, you can even do better – there is the classical argument about what reveals more about your opponent – his body or his eyes – I have heard enough cases arguing for either. Then there is the special arsenal that one builds up and uses – a specially devised series of punches/ locks or throws that one practices and gains reflexive expertise to execute in half-a-second. All these do not appear on enrollment or do not develop in a week’s time – sometimes one earns a broken nose or a twisted ankle or a kick in the balls for the wisdom to be driven home – but what you gain out of such lessons and what you start doing to avoid these is of immeasurable use – inside and outside the ring.

Fine Arts 101-Ars gratia, vita brevis
If despite my New Year resolutions, am quoting Latin, then gentle reader, it must be good Latin – in this case “Art is Long, Life is short”. It is no accident that these are called
Martial “Arts”.
As much as they are self –defense techniques, as much as they are physical exercises, “Martial Arts” are also an indulgence in a world of art no less exquisite than the sight of a Van Gogh or a Henry Moore…I would go on to add that it is precisely because of their inherent quality of possessing life and the impossibility of exact repetition (If I was Murakami, I would have called it Monoganashii – the beauty of that which is fleeting- but me, am just your everyday burnt-out martial artist ;-), that they qualify for a far more appreciative and concentrated approach as compared to, say that used to evaluate everyday paintings or literature. (Ah! The danger of being carried away by verbal convolutions disguised as arguments on aesthetics…tch tch).

Martial Arts are obviously so much closer to the performing arts such as music, dance or drama – but because of their very unpredictability, they bring a sense of spontaneity that needs to be discerned keenly to be appreciated in its entirety. Regular performing arts demand that you appreciate their subtleties at some levels like
1. Understanding/ appreciating the context of the performed piece
2. Understanding/ appreciating the very personal grace or glory that the artiste brings to the piece by sheer force of his/ her unique personality.
3. Understanding the subtler nuances – those subtle shifts in tempo, mood or direction, those points of fulcrum around which such performances rest.

But watching a combat performance by martial artists on the other hand requires your understanding not only on the above but also demands that you tread on different mental planes apart from the levels mentioned above (NO, this isn’t supposed to evoke the image of a critic stretched out in all directions multidimensional space – if it does, you are doing something wrong with your mind – go back to your Ishiguro and try again later) - One, to appreciate what has driven the artist to make any move; Two, the execution of the action (the actual artistry as seen in other arts) and Three, the evaluation of alternatives to that particular move and the results that they might have delivered.

This of course would be impossible for a regular bystander to appreciate - all one sees is two figures approaching each other, a series of indecipherable blows and pummeling that results in either the two separating to fight again or one of the artists biting dust. But for one who has been in the heart of combat, such a fight (how vulgar of me, such a performance!) is much more than mere grappling around – it is at once a revelation of how two minds work, seeking in milliseconds to draw the knowledge of countless practice sessions and the seamless flow of thought into action and intuitive counteraction.

I would love to go on – about the beauty of a 1000 layered katana, the deep perambulations that the Five Rings of Musashi can evoke, about how the stilled mind becomes that single thought which flows into the edge of your hand that launches itself into the universe at your opponent…but…but apparently these subtleties are lost on the high-flying mosquitoes of Cochin; a well-coordinated attack is on its way and I am afraid I must retreat into the Mortein-enveloped confines of my room and seek somnambulistic respite.

And Bolero, which was playing, is winding its way to a crashing crescendo – signaling the waning of my waxing…so here ends a night-induced defense of the very special Arts that I swore to live by.

Someday I shall smite again…until then, watch your Jet Li and read your Musashi.

Good night, gods of the darkness.

The Slightly Desirable Agony of Being Tagged By Irrefusible Women

6 people who top your shit list..... and why:

• G.B&$%u@#$@s&*$@#h – for everything.


• A former boss who made sure everything got personal. I forgive you.


• Specific Hindu/ Muslim/ Xian leaders for their noble  attempts convince others through various disgusting means that their religion is the best for India. May a hundred suns set on you.


• People who hunt animals/ birds for fun – try it with your God-given bare hands, bravehearts. (The people who hunt them for money are also jerks, but a degree less darker in my book)


• A priest who made me run around a lot on the starkest of days, get 7 signatures, asked for proof of belonging to the parish and finally refused to conduct the funeral mass for my father. I give him the same line my cousin did when people laughed at him trying to imitate a solemn church ceremony and later tried apologizing to him “Don’t say sorry to me, say sorry to Jesus”.

Close brushes with death/danger:

• Velankanni - Age 5. Fell into lagoon. Before I went in I waved; Dad dove in, pulled me out – hung me upside down to dry. Apart from the weekends, am so far dry! Hic.

• Highway off Madurai. Hero Honda Sleek stickered BMW @ 70kmph, no helmet. Traffic at halt due to railway crossing. Old woman jumps into road. I swerve, she screeches, we roll over. After the world stops spinning, wake up – head on the road 12 inches away from a lorry’s double tyres and neck against the silencer. If the train had been on time, this blog would be going thru an existential crisis right now. Since then my Guardian Angel’s been asking for stress allowance.

• Halfway into French class. Class XI – a bored and hungry hand slips into someone else’s bag searching for something to eat. Comes out with bunch of letters. Love letters. Lovely long love letters. Smuggled them out. Read them a lot. Xeroxed them, just in case we lost them. And then did nothing with them ;-( Death? Danger? When loverboy is 6 foot tall at age 18 and is the son of a CBI officer. That’s danger. Or rather Death.

• Main road @ Madurai. 2nd year college. Friend getting beaten up in front of college in middle of Madurai town by 8 thugs with various assortment of weapons for proposing to a girl-and for other related incidents, shall we say. Approx. 60-70 bystanders with traffic halted to watch the fun. GT trying to hold a 7 foot tall, 4 foot wide specimen from pulling a long dagger from his belt. Other courageous classmates trying out gentle holds on thugs but not working. At this point, thugs decide to temporarily transfer violence to another name mentioned by the much maligned “proposee”- into this melee, floats a gentle question “Who is Ganja?” All familiar eyes turn to me. As shakes off an ant, an elephant – the 7 footed giant shakes me off and lifts me by shirt and says “Are you Ganja?. Silence of 5 seconds in which the world slows down to a snails crawl...Me, in what’s supposed to be angry growl, but more an enraged squeak: “Hello baas, my name is Turtle – please put me down”. Ever since then I have stopped cursing all concerned for the 5 names that I was baptized with.

1 preferable(?!?) mode of suicide:

• Disappear down an abyss.


• Without a mess for anybody else.


• With a lingering sense of mystery.     


• Hopefully after everyone I know is no longer around or remembers me.


• God forbid.

9 Guilty pleasures:

• Random Poetry @ Work.


• Beer; Toddy; Sake; Vodka; anything with generous hints of alcohol.


• Madchen Amick in Dream Lover.


• Running fingers through somebody else’s hair. Preferably PYTs ;-)


• Revving the throttle, roaring at 90. Forgive me, o fossils, am a cretin, crude at times.


• Giving just that perfect gift to people and watching their face shine. Why guilty you ask? My credit card sighs.


• Chocolate.


• Petrichor.


• Giving Gyan on life, love, management, Mars…anything.

8 things you never want to forget:

• My 1st nursery rhyme for which I won a recitation prize and still is recounted fondly at family functions much to the embarrassment of the protagonist “Piggy on the railway picking up stones, Down came the Engine Driver and broke his bones; Oooooh, said the piggy, that’s not fair. BAH, said the engine driver, I don’t care” The protagonist as he likes to call himself on such distressing occasions, was well known for his long drawn “Oooh” with pursed lips as well as the Calvinesque screwed-up-face “BAH”.


• The life of my father – from scraping barnacles to sighting the stars...that such a man lived on Earth.


• My 1st interview – the interviewer told me to get out after 5 minutes; I refused; at subsequent intervals of 10 minutes for the next 45 minutes, I was told in different various ways to leave the room. I stuck around pointing out the various facets of my personality that he hadn’t explored. I got the job. Am still at it. And sometimes wonder why.


• Again what my bro & me shared with my father – from waking up at 4am to get “fresh” beef or fish, to riding a brand new Sunny  - triples-a hard & hefty 90 kg man,2 boys of varying sizes- to church to bless it on the 1st day of purchase, to waking up at 5am  and splitting into teams on Dad’s orders to help mum cut vegetables  for breakfast, lunch, dinner and the next day (even if she wasn’t interested too much) and vacuuming/mopping the floor. He loved her, you see.


• Challenging an English teacher that I could teach Tennyson’s Ulysses better than her. And finishing with applause the day after.


• All my pets.


• The way my mother smiles.


• The rush of blood with which I wrote a poem for the 1st time. Didn’t even know it was one.


• 3 days in  Switzerland which included…Finding that you can hire a free cycle by just showing your passport…Listening to a live organ concert in the 12th century Grossmunster church and writing a poem as I listened to the music…Watching the ethereal beauty of stained glass inside The Fraumuster Church…Sitting by the Lake Zurich and feeding popcorn to the swans…Gobbling sprungli on the go…Flirting with a Swiss Bank teller (I always found exhange rates rather fascinating, y’know)…A little blonde angel who wanted me to lift her from a pier- by frantically gesturing with her hands and smiling at me and finally grabbing at my legs until I gave in, held her up, hugged her and put her on the ground – in return, a smile that was worth so much more….Watching car drivers smilingly halt and gesture me to go ahead as I fumbled with the gears on my cycle at traffic crossings…Finding that beer was the same price as water….Drinking water from the many fountains in the city…Watching amateur musicians play amazing classical music at various “platz”s in the city…Stalls on the platform with noone to watch over them – if you want to buy something, you select it and look around for the owner of the stall – who would be nowhere near the stall – Trust Works…Finding out that when you put on an accent, foreigners understand you better; and then realizing that I was speaking like that to some colleagues also…They way the Swiss Landesmuseum was maintained – from suits of armour in humidity controlled rooms, to paintings of the Virgin by Renaissance masters to a miniature of a battle scene – The Swiss do so deserve Switzerland. Being startled by a Swiss girl at a souvenir shop in Lucerne: You are Indian,right? Yes. Indians don’t eat meat right? Yeah, lots of proponents (Ok,ok…I didn’t say proponents – I said something which I don’t remember…) of Hinduism, the majority religion in India, don’t. YOU PEOPLE don’t eat meat but wear leather shoes YOU PEOPLE don’t eat cows, but wear leather belts, carry leather bags, wear leather straps. ME: DUH?!?!? (After consideration of this ultimate question, I came up with the best alternative availability theory; however the next day when I went to the souvenir shop to explain it to her, she was missing ;-(

4 things you wish to forget but never will
Beating up my brother black and blue with a cycle tube. Forgive me, MM, for I did not know what I was doing :-/
Losing in the tiebreaker round in two different national level quizzes.
The day a woman said No. Maybe she didn’t know what she was missing. Maybe she did.
The last few months of my Dad’s life.

5 really exotic dishes you have tried:
1. Homemade Sweet & Sour Pork which my father supposedly learnt from a Chinese friend. Remember the Indo-Chinese Conflict? This was how it started.
2. Cherry Brandy – what goes inside your mouth is a dish.Period.
3. The groom figure made with icing on a wedding cake. My cousin got the bride. Grotesque you say? Tasty I say.4. Various homemade pickles attempted by mom. By the time shes finished with them and after they are discovered 2 years later, declared “NICE & TASTY” and force fed at lunch, they become exotique.5. 3 scoops of Movenpick icecream at a restaurant atop Mt.Titlis. 18 Euros; Rs.900 for a minute of pleasure; Rs.300 a scoop. Yes, I am an Indian. But the pleasure was all Swiss.

5? 5?!?! YOU KIDDING?!?! crushes/loves in your life... Divya-sister of Selma (that was the way I prayed so that God doesn’t confuse her with any other Divya and therefore possibly forget the showers of blessings! ;-), Urmila, Vaishnavi, Sindhuja, Uma, Devi, Arti, Saranya, Naushine, Annie, Vanita, Amita,Vinita, Rebecca, Shalini, Yasmeen, Anjali.


Strangest dream you ever had:
Machine gunning a switchboard that refused to break.
Why machine gun? Why switcboard? Why not break?
Ha Ha Ha (evil laughter) Strange you ask, strange you get.

5 most valued personal possessions:My mom.
My books – all of them.Ring(rosary) gifted by mom.
My poetry. Amazing but true, I do.
My biceps. Next question.3 favorite superheroes..... and why:
Phantom – The Skullring was too good. And his nom-de-guerre too – The Ghost Who Walks.
Mandrake- for a long long time, I dreamt of Xanadu and of course the beautiful Narada.
Karna – Yeah, an obvious superhero  - after reading Amar Chitra Katha, no one would think otherwise.
Doc Savage – After reading Doc Savage, I tried isometric exercises with the legendary Bullworker. My biceps said Yes. Everybody else said Naaaahhhhh.

A wise man once said “The extent to which some men can go to, whilst pandering to the yearnings of strange therefore exotic women is mostly ridiculous, sometimes funny and rarely sensible.”

Ganja Turtle was once a wise man.