Showing posts with label Kolhapur. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Kolhapur. Show all posts

Friday, March 12, 2010

The Jiyala n Hyd Biryani connection…

One of the main time pass activities in Kolhapur where I was sentenced for two years was watching movies. My diary of those days tells me that by the end of the stay I had watched more than a hundred and twenty five movies. We would go as a group to watch any kind of flicks that ranged from naughty ones like Sirocco to classics like Titanic. We also watched a lot of Hindi films too like Dil Se to more nondescript ones like Mere Sapno ki Rani. Super flops like Prithvi and Jhoot Bole Kuwa Kate can also be included in our list.

This will give you an idea how desperately devoid of entertainment our college life was.

One Friday in my final semester, our HR class as usual got over early. Three out of the six who were in class thus decided to go for a movie. We took an auto and landed up this place just beyond the railway station. There were a lot of theatres and cinema halls in Kolhapur and so getting a ticket was not an issue. However there were hardly any options. Jiyala was a movie that had a lot of TV publicity. From the very name we did not seem to like it but still decided to go in.

The movie lived up to our expectations. It was hopeless and the three of us were feeling miserable for having spent our money. On our return to our hostel, we decided to not let anyone know how bad our experience was. In fact we gave raving reviews and thus by evening another set of hostel inmates decided to go for the movie. When they came back they were so dejected that they wanted to blow us originals apart but realised that they had been fooled. To ensure that they were not the only ones fooled they too decided to give a 5 star rating to the movie. As a consequence, by Sunday everyone had seen the movie in the hostel and declared it a hit.

Even today when we meet sometimes we make fun of this Jiyala adventure of ours.

Hyderabadi Biryani too I feel has a similar thing about it.

I think long years ago some disgruntled traveller to Hyderabad must have had to gulp down the 100% substandard and barely edible Biryani at the Paradise hotel and the revenge continues to haunt us.

Friday, September 25, 2009

The Prefect Mistake (How I took up an MBA.)

The year was 1997. I was working for IMRB for some time now and making reasonably good money. My assignment can today be classified as a KPO/ BPO job but this was a time when no one had any idea what out sourcing was.
Although I worked in the Esplanade Mansion office of the IMRB in Bombay, my work was assigned from an office in Hong Kong. The job was all about analysing market research data that would come via email from Hong Kong. The problem was that the emails were generation next technology at that time and we had to go to our Nirmal Towers office to even check these incoming packets. Yes, believe it or not we did call these attachments to emails as packets. Once we got the email and the relevant attachment, we downloaded them on to the most unreliable storage devises of the time called floppy disks and transport the data to our desktops. This ensured a few trips between the offices a day and if lucky the data to be analysed would be on our desktops only by 6 in the evening. As the processing started after that, I had to stay back nights in office. With firm regularity, I travelled home only in the wee hours of the morning and thus returning back to work by 9 am to sign a muster was almost impossible.
Moreover the work I did was complex, used yet to be relied upon technology, subject to rejection, time consuming, tedious and most importantly not understood by anyone in my reference group. For example, the timekeeper (yes we had one) at the IMRB, employed by the HR of the company never understood that it was impossible for me to come at 9 am to sign a muster when I had just left office at 5 am. The timekeeper would insist on a ‘red mark’ on the register and three such marks would mean a causal leave (CL). Exceeding the number of permitted CLs per week which was 3 invited a Memo. Not replying to the Memo would mean a remark in the service book and no pay until justification. It was only during the clarification interview that the HR head would realise what was going on and for some strange reason even though the pay would be released no corrective procedural action for the red marks or the Memo would be initiated from his end.
More than me it was my parents who were impacted. My parents in their line of work took their service book and muster remarks very seriously. A Memo for them would mean some grave crime committed against organization like neglect of duty or embezzlement of funds. Also my family was a close knit one. Each one of us would usually comeback from outside and sit together and discuss what happened. This ritual though time consuming and almost an invasion of privacy was the binding force in the family. Eating out every day with hardly any physical exercise had now made me 145 kgs. I was finding it very difficult to move the ton around. With my erratic timings and my weight problem I was drifting apart from the family.
I think this is what they call pressure and thus the cookie crumbled. Suddenly one day Mum got palpitations. Not that this was a new sickness as this kind of a problem with mum’s Blood Pressure had happened in the past when I was in college but the difference here was I was not free and available to do the legwork. So dad was stressed out a lot. Almost a month after mum recovered, Dad got a heart attack. My dad who is, was and will always remain the back bone of my existence was never so sick. I had no idea what was happening to me and my life. It as if the rest of life took a back seat. I had to become the man of the house. I had to look in to my mother’s eyes and tell her “My father is not dead, he is just sick.” Not knowing want else to say, we had to simply resort to stopping each other from crying.
This episode jolted us out of our comfort zone.
My mum and I would take turns at the hospital vigil. At the hospital one day I met a college friend of mine. He was there because his father too was admitted to the ICU. In the waiting room outside the ICU, I saw him struggling with some math like problems. I took keen interest in what he was doing and after some time indulged myself in solving the puzzles. Soon he told me that the puzzles I was solving with extraordinary easy were not puzzles as such but aptitude testing material that frequently appears in MBA entrance exams. Later in the day that friend of mine told my mum that I was too good at the MBA entrance stuff and should try my luck at the Common Entrance Test. Convinced that I had no future with the job I was doing both my mum and my dad even in that condition forced me to think of an MBA.
An MBA is a big decision in a students’ life. However like many decisions of my life, I took to an MBA ‘Just like that.’
The World around people take up an MBA after a few years of work. The logic is to use the MBA College like a dictionary and refer to it with problems you encountered at work. Using your MBA years to find solutions for the problems you encountered while working makes your MBA sojourn more meaningful.
However in India we do it differently. We first try and finish all our education at one shot. So we go through our bachelors’ degree and then straight into an MBA. At the MBA we equip ourselves with solutions for the business world, which we have no idea how or were to apply. Then we go out into the big bad corporate world ‘looking for problems’ which would help us apply our knowledge. Now I always thought leading a life looking for problems is not such a great idea.
Once dad was back from the hospital I went back to work and got myself re engrossed in the routine forgetting the MBA preparations. My routine was tough and my schedules were punishing so there was no time to think of anything else.
I still remember the day before my entrance test; I was working till 2.30 in the night. I don’t know how I managed to get up the next morning and go to the examination centre. At the centre I was overwhelmed with the magnitude of people that had come to give the test plus the fact that each one of them was preparing for the test vigorously till the last minute. After the test too I met a few acquaintances furiously debating some college ranking. All this puzzled me as I had not taken my MBA decision seriously.
Once I went back to work I made inquiries about an MBA course and its prospects. Even though I was an educated son of educated parents, I had no idea about how admissions to an MBA work.
The scene was very complex. There were some 2 to 3 hundred MBA colleges in Maharashtra affiliated to the various universities. The admissions to their MBA programme were centralised. Which means a common entrance test was taken and then a group discussion was held and then we were subjected to a personal interview. At the end of this we got a score and a rank. With this rank we were suppose to appear for a counselling session. At the counselling we get to chose from the available colleges from all over Maharashtra. Though the system looks simple, what makes is complex is the stature and reputation of each MBA college and the placement record of the institution.
One day I got my results and I realize I had not done that badly after all. With the kind of score I could comfortably get an admission in a good college in Bombay. However things were made difficult by the fact that most of the seats left in Bombay were ‘paid seats.’ So not knowing the consequences of a bad college, I decided to take the economic option and go out of Bombay to do an MBA….
Moreover what I thought were good colleges were not necessarily the top colleges in Bombay according to the others who were appearing for the counselling. Some of the people who appeared for the counselling ahead of me had taken up colleges in Pune and one had even gone to Nasik. There was hardly any time to think when my turn came. So I asked the polite looking gentleman on the other side of the ‘Counsellor’ sign where would I get a free seat. To my surprise he said Kolhapur. I had once been to Kolhapur so I kind of liked the option. I asked him to tell me which was the number one college in Kolhapur. What I meant was a qualitative numbering implying the best college but he was a simple man and went by the first college on his list as far as Kolhapur is concerned. Bharthi Vidyapeeth Institute of Management was the number one college on extra large register and I don’t think was the best college on any list but not knowing what to do I signed on the dotted line, submitted my certificates (as I had not got the necessary drafts) and took a plunge into the unknown.

Tuesday, September 8, 2009

April Fool!

It was the 1st of April. We as students of an MBA seldom had classes for more than 2 hours a day so after that we got down to some serious work like meeting up at hostels and doing nothing at all. Since today was all fools day... people were out to outwit each other. Fooling the daylights of the system and people running it we reached the place of Syric and Rathore. They stayed in the first floor portion of a bungalow in the Ruiker colony. Pranav, another friend of mine was with me. The motive was to help Rathore & Syric finish the lunch that would arrive for them from the mess in a Tiffin Dabba by doing a 2 by 4 and thus saving some money.
Together the four of us thought no end of ourselves. We would always boast about the fact that individually we may not have it all that a girl desires but together we had everything like... Colour (Rathore was very fair), Figure (Syric was a pocket size mussel man), Brains (Pranav was an engineer) and Size (I was BignTall as ever.)
Once we reached the bungalow, we first checked for the Tiffin Dabba. As we were about to settle down to have our grub, we realised the Tiffin today was heavier than usual. As we opened it we realised, it was packed with stones. A note told us we were April fooled. Hungry, insulted and angry we decided to take our revenge. We had realised that this was the work of the group of girls led by a girl called Madhuri staying in the same block from where the food had been dispatched. The girls had colluded with the messwali aunty as she was also their landlady and worked this trick on us. We were about to pick up sticks and beat the shit out of the girls when the Saint in Syric told us to be ashamed of ourselves for even thinking in that way.
Soon an idea struck us. We decide to pack the Tiffin dabbas and the stones we had received as our lunch in a big shoe box. We then wrapped the box in Blue Dart courier packaging. To make the packet look authentic we used a sticker label to write the name of Madhuri. Resourceful Rathore helped us with the inside and outside address and the name of the Madhuri’s father. I still wonder how he had all these details.
The packet was ready. The plan was to pose as a courier guy and deliver the parcel claiming some money by saying the parcel was heavy and thus Octroi was charged. To fake the encounter we used an old Octroi Challan. To make the plan foolproof we needed a guy who would have guts, would not panic under pressure, and most importantly look like a courier guy.
As the people at the mess would recognise Syric & Rathore, their participation as the courier guy was ruled out. Pranav was smart but being a no nonsense guy was a very bad actor. With no other option the courier guy role was left to me. The role demanded that I look dirty and my unshaven look helped. The script was created by Pranav and Rathore and it was very unreasonable. I had not only to deliver the packet and collect the sum of Rs.275/- but also write out a receipt. This would involve not just dialog delivery but also acting silently while others were watching. Any actor worth his salt will tell you that this was a tough conman like act.
Before leaving on my Kinetic Honda I remember giving a look to Syric and almost pleading him to pray for me. Syric was a trained but non practicing catholic priest and I still sometimes ask him to pray for me. I believe his prayers always work for me.
I very confidently carried out the plot and to this day pride myself on the gag. No one suspected and I pulled of an act worth a million dollars. Even today I sometimes think of this and feel I am in the wrong line of work.
Back with Rs.280/-, as I pretended I did not have change, I with the remaining three decided to celebrate. We walked down to Kolhapur station and ate that afternoon at the PanchGanga. When we came back to the bungalow a magnitude of girls from the girls’ hostel had descended there. A visibly disturbed Madhuri was crying. I felt sorry for her. Both Pranav and I had almost reached for our wallet to reimburse her loss but Rathore was ruthless. He went into overdrive mode and even abused the girls out of the place by telling them that they were no saints when they put stones in his dabba.
Once the girls left we burped with guilt but decided to not to pay back. The Sunday that week we took Madhuri out on an all expenses paid trip to our favourite picnic spot in Panhala. Although not in touch but we are still friends and will always remain that way. This one is for you Madhuri.