Untold truths at MDI

MDI Gurgaon is a myriad of facts and figures and knowledge which we gain by attending lectures. I have spent a month in the campus and with each passing day, I get to experience something new and beautiful. The main source of information, apart from the professors, is talking to my peers and to my seniors, who share great deal of interesting snippets. For example did you know that there is an actual bat cave in Takshashila where actual bats live, one senior asked me. Gleefully, he replied we call ourselves Batman. Another one shared that in Sanskriti, the initiation to getting inside the inner circle is to listen the Pink Fridge story. This tradition was started by Apratim Maitra. Hey I got another truth for you, said another senior, MDI is an alcohol free campus, with a slurry voice. He gave me another tip - We definitely do not Faff in our exams. Jhajhi is the best place to have Parathas at this side of the city said a home stricken senior. A friendly senior told me shyly that girls visit guy’s hostel after 10 PM. During the conversations, I happened to hear lot of usual chatter from the seniors - in a weeks’ time, a months’ time or in 6 months’ time, MDI will be a Wifi enabled campus. Some of them said so by imitating Arvind Kejriwal’s tone and manner perfectly. Subway, CCD and McDonalds are going to open their outlet in the campus one day, they sighed. Another senior mentioned that Whatsapp pings have become her jingle, the music to her ear, co-incidentally by pinging me over Whatsapp. Maybe this was her way of telling me that the same thing is going to happen to me.

My experience at MDI has made me realize few truths, obvious yet not so spoken openly. Firstly, I have come to the conclusion that Computer Center will one day make me an expert printer mechanic. Secondly, pen is an essential commodity in college. I can trade it for dollars. I think I have unearthed a conspiracy, maybe my mind is going bonkers, I don’t know but there is something wrong. Hostel and Mess Committee, is on a mission, I believe, to make us all appreciate the importance of Parathas and Rotis as part of our diet, especially during lunch and dinner. On a serious note MBA life has started teaching me the ills of Procrastination. One full day of MDI Gurgaon is worth a lifetime of another human being's is a mantra which comes to my mind each and every moment I am swamped with work. Last but not the least, the most important untold truth of them all is that I have become expert at taking power naps otherwise I don’t know how I will survive the forthcoming months, at this beautiful magical place known as MDI Gurgaon.

Short Story on how I ended writing my first book

Hi I am Utakarsh Jayant and this is my story on how I ended up writing my first book. The first time it struck my mind to write the book was when I was 19 years old, second year in college, bright and charged up, all ready to pen down something. With not much thoughts in my mind, a vague idea, full of vigour and enthusiasm, I sat on my laptop, which co-incidentally even after 6 years I am still using, to start writing my first novel. I wrote and wrote, continuously, for two weeks and then the whole steam blew off, leaving me battered and bruised but not disillusioned. I couldn’t think of anything else to write after those two weeks. With time, I stopped working on it. I had lost all the zeal of the beginning. But the aspiration and passion wasn’t lost. I made a promise to myself to get published before I turn 25, how and when will I be able to achieve it, I didn’t know.

As time passed by, gradually the idea of writing the book went from the front to the back of my mind. It doesn’t mean that I had given hope to ever write, it was just that I needed the right time and inspiration to once again start writing. Meanwhile I would always talk to people to absorb their stories, observe things around me and try to experience new experience, making a note of various noteworthy incidents which I thought I could inculcate in my book.

The real chance to write the book came when I joined my office after graduating college. During the first few weeks, the honeymoon period, I would have trainings during the morning half and post lunch, I would sit idle, waste away my time. As a person I cannot sit idle, do nothing. I need to always, continuously do something productive. If I don’t do anything, something starts happening in my brain, a voice starts telling me to do something interesting, productive otherwise you will rot. Me, sitting idle, doing nothing was pinching me. Suddenly my life-long dream of writing became the top priority for me. From nowhere the idea of writing about real estate industry, keeping Dwarka and Gurgaon as inspiration, came in to my mind. I started writing, again. The whole plot wasn’t clear in mind, just certain incidents which I needed to highlight. From page 1, I went to the page 2 and so and on, at a frantic pace. Before I knew it, I had ended up writing 40 pages, the whole plot clear in my mind.

Doing any work without homework is like going to war without having shooting practice. While writing, I would always research, to bring interesting views and perspectives, add depth to characters and plot. For example to give a background story to one of my characters, I spent one whole night reading about 1965 India Pakistan war; reading blogs and Indian Army and Navy and Pakistan websites, to have a good understanding of the war. Another night I went through DDA websites to read about SEZ and the laws concerning it. Writing about Ram Leela and India v/s Pakistan 2003 cricket world cup final was fun. There is one real life real estate scam about which I studied thoroughly and have tried to include it in my book. What's the scam, well, I won't like to talk about it. Let it be a mystery for you, my dear readers :)

The most important juncture of during the writing process, which tested my patience level and made me realize how I determined I was, was when during Feb 2013, I had written 58,325 word, something about 147 pages. I added a simple yet crucial line, which was very important from the perspective of the plot. Writing that line didn’t make sense to the whole story written in previous pages. Unacceptable. Ghor Paap!  I couldn’t do away with that line, an important element. Hence I took the only option available to me at that time. Re-write. To actually write that line, to make it justifiable to the previous pages, I re-wrote the whole work, a good 4 months effort.

Two years I have taken to finish writing the book. It took my 6 months to find me a publisher who agreed to publish my work and another 3 months to sign the legal document. I feel immensely proud and happy. And being able to do so before I turn 25 is the icing on the cake.

Lastly before I finish this story, let me share another juicy tidbit. Throughout the time I was writing the book, I couldn’t come up with a name for the book. It was very difficult to put a name to my work. Finally, after regular pestering of my editor, publisher, family and friends, I was able to think of a name. How? I prepared a list of 9 possible names, made a Google poll and asked my friends to vote for the name they find best. Around 50 people voted. Chasing Illusion is the name of my book which ought to be in market by end of June 2015.

Solo trip to Pondicherry

I recently went to Chennai to attend my cousin sister's marriage. The marriage was a big two day affair where I met lot of interesting people. I had good fun interacting with them. My sister got married on the Wednesday night. I woke up the next morning, around 9 AM, tired and drowsy, thinking of attempting an ambitious plan. I had the whole of Thursday and half of Friday free, nothing to do. My flight was on Friday afternoon and I didn’t know what to do till then. Hence an idea struck my mind - Solo trip to Pondicherry. I was hesitant, scared a bit as I knew in case by any chance if I missed my flight to Delhi, there wasn’t any way for me to go to Delhi, no bus, train and I wasn’t mentally ready to pay exorbitant flight ticket prices. My friend, she, calmed me down on phone and advised me to take the chance, to go for the adventure of a lifetime. Upon her insistent enthusiasm, I stopped thinking and made up mind to go for it.

I had slept at 5 in the morning. I had no idea on how to go to Pondicherry, no idea at all. I was in the heartland of Chennai, Tamil Nadu where no word of Hindi is spoken, English is spoken but broken. I didn't know a word of Tamil. But I had made up my mind. I needed to go to Pondicherry, no matter what, thinking of ways to bypass the obstacles which lay ahead. I quickly got ready, had a hearty breakfast, said my byes to my relatives and was at the hotel gate, asking for ways to go Pondicherry. "It is a 3 hour bus journey, buses leave in every 30 min," said a gentle soul. Another gentle soul dropped me to CMBT (just like ISBT, Delhi) bus station, Chennai.

CMBT is a massive, clean and free wi-fi zone with buses leaving in every other minute. Someone directed me to a green bus, informing that it will leave for Pondicherry in 15 min. Happily, I boarded the bus, kept my bag on the space provided above head, sat on a seat next to the window and mentally started counting the various things I need to take care of to make my journey a success. Incidentally, while making a list, my eyes wandered off to ceiling of the bus and then it wavered to the sideways. I couldn’t believe it. I was sitting inside a railway compartment, recycled as bus body part. The cushion I was sitting upon was same as that of Indian Railways train compartment, so was the curved ceiling and so was the windows. I even noticed the seat numbers in black painted near the windows, 37L, 38M, 39U. Quickly I touched the walls of the bus and other bus parts, noticing that except for the grills on the windows, each and every part of the bus was not hot, a refreshing thought since I was to spend four hours cooped inside. Soon the driver took his place and started the bus.

The road to Pondicherry was via ECR (East Coast Road), a four hour journey through beautiful landmass. The roads were in perfect conditions. Incidentally, now I come to think of it, I can’t recall a single pothole anywhere, on any road I travelled upon in Tamil Nadu. Sitting in the midst of all the South Indians, I was the odd one out. All around people were speaking in foreign language, giving a quick glance at me, an odd dressed individual with a laptop in hand. I didn’t care. I was looking outside the window, lost in the greenery on both sides of the road. I couldn’t take my eyes off it. I went on staring, marveling and was noticing the differences between the North and South Indian villages. Few of the differences I noticed for example were that the most of all the walls of the South Indian villages were whitewashed, devoid of any advertisements, especially advertisements advertising varied solutions to manly non-performance problems which ever so popular in North Indian villages.  To escape the heat and sun rays, the houses on the either side of the road were constructed in the midst of many planted tall palm trees, whose shade must be keeping the houses cool during summers. Most importantly almost all of the buildings in South India were pucca houses, which told me a lot about prosperity of the region. I saw lot of schools, colleges, parks, nurseries, resorts, holiday gateways, restaurants and scientific research buildings on my side of the road. Sitting inside the bus, I had constantly kept my face glued to the window, feeling the cold breeze on my face which was completely betraying the 37 degrees Celsius temperature. It was truly a journey through heaven.

Soon by 6, I reached "The Retreat" a guest house maintained by Aurobindo Ashram. The man at the reception gave me a pass to the ashram, informing me about the timings to visit it. But I wasn’t interested in that. The sound of the crashing waves had captured my heart. I didn’t want to miss for anything in the world. Quickly I went to my room, changed and came back to the reception. I opened the front door of the reception and out I came to the main road, in front of which lied the majestic Bay of Bengal. The water was blue, dark blue, clear and eyes-popping-out beautiful. I was on the Rue de Marine, and I started walking towards my left direction, went on and on, till the end and came back to explore the other end.

Walking slowly and slowly, I was marveling the French construction, the colour coding, the pattern of the construction and buildings’ architecture. On my walk, there was only odd building, on the whole stretch, sore to my eyes. The building was very ugly, bad and completely ruining the pattern. The building was Pondicherry Secretariat, the front of which was under repair of some sort. Ufff. Ignoring it, I went on walking, seeing BR Ambedkar, Mahatma Gandhi, Jwahar Lal Nehru and other notable French intellects' statues and Pondicherry war memorial. I started exploring the cafes and other eating joints, noticing that the small, small roads looked similar to Paris roads which were shown in countless of movies.

I finally spotted a happening restaurant where I had my dinner and met three college drop outs who were busy and working on their startup, as I got to know later, http://onrusticroutes.com/. Those three were fun, warm and good natured people, very enthusiastic about their work. They recounted their own car trip to Pondicherry, which included getting lost in villages, thanks to Google Maps and others.

As time passed, I got back to my room, to rest, awaiting next day adventure. My flight was at 2 PM. I was at Pondicherry and a four hour bus drive and an hour auto ride awaited me. Thankfully I woke up early in the morning, by 7 AM, boarded the bus and reached Chennai CMBT by 11 in the morning. Quickly I de-boarded the bus to take an auto to Chennai Airport.

Imagine a situation, where when you try to bargain, sounds such as, Sirrrrrrr, yaaaada, verrrry faaaaar, yummmmmaaaa and other weird sound come out from the other side. I was feeling like a foreigner, stuck in babel land. The autowallahs were refusing to go by meter, charging an exorbitant amount, and if asked why charging so much, answering that sir, return empty, no savari, an hour journey. I smiled inwardly and shook my head. Whether South India or North India, the autowallahs will remain the same. As few more autowallahs joined the game to con the foreigner, finally one person budged, lowered the fare and took me to the airport. He was a very friendly chap, trying his best to communicate with me in broken English and few words of Hindi. He showed me the house of a big Tamil actor Vijay, told me about RSS slogans and few others Chennai notable areas. We were having a good time. I told him I was from Delhi and was returning from Pondicherry. He was perturbed after hearing that, shaking his head. I could only guess that the reason for his confusion might be related to me being a totally opposite to the image of the Delhi people, he was carrying, I assume.

Soon we reached the airport, shook hands and he left me at the airport, bringing down curtains to my first solo trip, that too to the magical land of Pondicherry.

Eye Witness to a horrific accident - True account

Just a while back, I was walking back home, having bought eggs from the market. Walking, lost in my own world, I reached the busy intersection, in front of my society. Now the intersection in front of my society is a busy intersection. Seeing a minor accident, people hurling abuses, cars honking incessantly, others watching the show is not new for me, yet today I had a new experience. Around 8:35 PM, among the loud honking, I saw a huge crowd standing, encircling something on the footpath. Lots of bikes were parked near the footpath. I decided to take a closer look to see what was happening and see if I can offer any help. I entered the circle of people. At the centre, I saw a man sitting and another lying, shaking uncontrollably. There was a by-stander asking the sitting man for his family's contact number while others trying to think of ways to comfort the shaking man. Talks of drunk maniacs was doing the rounds. There was a man, dressed in white, looked in charge, was talking to someone, presumably to police I thought.
Just near, there was a concrete white wall, of height close to my knees, which had survived the banging of a red Maruti 800. The front passenger seat of the Maruti 800 was gone, due to the door bent inside. The backseat was in an even worse shape. I didn’t know what to do, so I kept quiet, looked around, wondering where I can pitch in my help. Soon an auto was stopped and the two men were picked up, given support and helped inside the auto. I, for the first time, saw the two men clearly. The sitting man was bald, with blood slowly dripping from his forehead. He was dressed in an orange shirt. The other guy had stopped shaking. I went to help him get up. His dark coloured shirt was drenched, not with blood, thank god. After few more seconds, since him being heavy, I almost gave away. Suddenly some other guy came, took my place and helped him till the auto. Meanwhile, the owner of the auto was shouting, "I will not take these two to the hospital alone. Someone needs to come with me." As expected no one volunteered. A traffic police cop arrived and then was lost, under mysterious circumstances. Maybe he had gone to call his superiors to give a quick first-hand account of the dire situation or call for backup, who knows. The accident victims were seated comfortably inside the three wheeler auto, to my horror. I believe, three wheeler auto and bikes should be last options for transporting any accident victim.

I looked around, again. I saw a cute girl, dressed in pyjamas and a yellow top, talking quietly and quickly on the phone with a serious look on her face. Another call on 101 was being made, I assumed. The man in white brought one litre packaged drinking water and gave it to the victims. And in about 5 minutes, the auto was gone.

Then the real fun started. Police arrived, with 3 uniformed men. Within 2 seconds, the crowd halved, approx from 30 to 15. One uniformed guy went to Maruti Swift Dzire, which was parked few meters away, surprisingly not at all damaged, to note down the first hand information. I hadn’t noticed the Dzire at all. The other two uniformed men cleared the place and started asking for witnesses. No one dared to come forward. Soon all the bikes left. As a sign of fate or bad luck, CAT ambulance arrived. The navigator of the ambulance got out to ask for the victims. Upon hearing that the victims had already left, a sad look came on his face and the ambulance quietly left. I was amazed to see the sad look.

I stood there for two more minutes to see if I can do something else, apart from volunteering to be a
witness, which I wasn't. A well-built, handsome guy, looked very smart and educated, dressed in red, had started to walk away. He was walking ahead of me, briskly. I ran, caught up to him, introduced myself and asked him on what actually had happened. He, in an excited voice, explained the whole situation to me. Approx 35 minutes ago, a red Maruti had jumped the red light. From the opposite side, a Maruti Dzire was taking a right turn. Dzire rammed in to the red Maruti 800. Due to sheer force of impact, red Maruti dragged, skidded and hit the white wall. On the other hand, the Dzire slowly crawled towards the footpath. Its driver had already been taken to a hospital, by one of his family member, presumably. Upon seeing the accident, people came forward to help out. They pulled out the driver of the Maruti 800 very easily. The passenger seat traveller, the guy who was shaking, was the actual and tricky problem. For about 10 minutes, people struggled, tried every manoeuvre to move the door and finally took him out through the window, successfully. At this point, I was heartened to know people, in a crazy situation, had come out to help out in an accident. Who says Delhi people are cold hearted and leave people to die on the streets. If someone think so, please do re-read the above lines and you will change your opinion.

As he was explaining me the whole situation, few things became clear to me.
1. Police response to the accident, 30 minutes. Around 10-15 calls were made on 101.
2. CAT ambulance, phone number 102, response time was 35 minutes.
3. No one came forward to be a witness.

After getting the whole picture from my new friend, I turned back and started my way back to my house. The Maruti 800 was totally totalled. The windshield was broken in to pieces and was lying on the street. A scooty activah had almost skidded on those broken pieces. With one last look, I sighed, thanked that the authorities had arrived who I am sure will take care of the situation to the best of their abilities and made my way to my house. And then I noticed the most ironical/funny thing of the night.

A guy dressed in black, taking pictures. The quote on his shirt

 *"Shhhh......Desh so rha h!"*

Joy of Writing

Writing is a journey between a man and his thoughts. The writer has an idea to share with the world which he knows will make everyone stop and listen to him. The writer is enthusiastic, happy and has the will to share the idea with the whole world. He starts penning down his thoughts on a piece of paper. Slowly and slowly, as the idea develops in his mind, the writer becomes a story teller. The writer has to think of the scene setting, character development and narrative development as well as make the story lively and entertaining. And this is where the joy is. He has to intrigue, educate and stimulate the reader simultaneously. He has to exploit the theme to catch the attention of the reader.

The writer needs to put his heart and soul in his writing. He first writes, then reads, rereads, rewrites, and so on, and, till the point the writer isn’t satisfied with what he has written, the process goes on and on. As the saying goes, success is 1% inspiration and 99% perspiration.

Throughout this roller coaster ride, the writer feels the joy of expressing himself. The world which exists in his mind is more complex, interesting and as the way he sees, not the world which we live in which is harsh, cruel, yet friendly and full of love. At the end if the writer has given his all, his story never disappoints.

The biggest joy for the writer comes at the end, when he showcases his work to the whole world. His eyes, his voice and his actions portray his feelings. Proudly and happily, he makes the world read his hard work.

For the readers it’s a joy to read the efforts of the writer. The reader feels and experiences what the writer has written. At the end the reader appreciates the hard work of the writer. This confirmation from the reader, for whom the whole process was undergone, gives the writer immense pleasure and satisfies his inner self.

The year gone by

Happy New Year!

Welcome to year 2015. I hope your hopes and aspirations come to reality this year provided you work hard for it. But before I welcome the New Year, I will like to look back and list the things which happened in the last year. By all definitions, the passing year was my best year and I don’t think there is anything I will like to change about that. I experienced so many things which has left a big impression on my mind. These beautiful memories, I will carry with myself for the rest of my life.

1. The year started with disappointment. I gave my XAT in the first week of 2014 year, hoping for something. But since I hadn’t prepared anything, nothing happened. This didn’t leave me disappointed. On the other hand, I promised myself that I will work hard and will do better in forthcoming exams.

2. I got my promotion. I wasn’t particularly surprised about that as it was due. Nonetheless it was a happy start to a fruitful year.

3. Summer vacation in Rio de Janeiro. I spent one whole month in Rio where I saw the world cup in the mecca of football, Estadio de Maracana. I enjoyed football with the Brazilians, sharing their joy and enthusiasm for the sport. It was my dream come true. 

4. I finally bought my 2BHK house. Not a big achievement, neither it's small :)

5. In the month of Dec, I signed my first ever contract. Yipeee. Soon I am going to be a published writer. I am hoping for the book to be launched by May 2015. *Fingers Crossed*. Facebook page -

https://www.facebook.com/pages/Project-Ibigo/1438685936352164?ref=bookmarks

I will post the updates about the book as they happen.

6. CAT results were declared in the last week of December. A satisfying end to 2014. I am looking forward to GD/PI calls from good B schools and hoping to convert one of them.

PS - XAT is in 2 days. Let’s see how I perform this year.