a ditty for the entire batch

I think I'll just keep updating it as and when I find enough material to write about.

Hada likes to get drunk
Fly so high, to a crowd confide
The one good friend
Who gets him tight
Is his blender's pride

Bhobe worked hard we felt
But that was just a sham
In the library we saw him sleep
But never did we catch it
on a webcam

Ramesh sleeps
through every class
He even snores
It'll be a miracle the day he passes
A single financial course

Suresh sleeps on the last desk
That's not so bad at all.
Quiet through class,
he wakes up only
for nature's call

Sethu tries with all his might
to speak in hindi which is the key
he feels to get the girls
closest he got
was when he said 'mataji'

Deepa spends her time in a trance
asleep all the time
when dozing concerned,
she takes no chance
to sleep, to dream perchance

pranesh sleeps in every calss
suddenly he wakes upto seek
an answer
while the whole class thinks.
what a sensational freak

shradha is as close to a fresher
as we can possibly get
so naive
behind the ears
she's completely wet.

megha tries to sit so quiet.
and be a good student gel
well she can't
so we chant
you should your computer hurl

prashanth sits and sticks out his hand
he looks like a superman
to wear his undie over his pants (sigh!)
he would if he can

samrat sleeps through every class
only to be jacked in law
something the whole class feels
will happen again
when he meets his in-laws

Gurgaon, MBA and Profits (not particularly in that order)

MBA. Mighty MBA:

I am standing here before the counter waiting to deposit my plate at the window which I call 'the gateway'. I wonder if people know what sort of gateway it is. How deeply it reaches, and the distances it bridges. The queue before me lurches forward. Hunger bounded by time is causing people to bolt their food. Some of them are wiping their mouths on their sleeves as they leave for class. Some of them are eating, reading their books and attempting to talk and flirt. Simultaneously. Funnily enough I watch their smiles disappear as they near 'the gateway'. It's the laughter which first disappears. Then the smiles, then they rearrange their faces. "Don't!", it seems to say. "We are from far away". And then they deposit their plates at the 'gateway', faces blank and unstaring looking away to a future they can see only with their eyes. That includes money, a wife, kids, success but not the small diminutive Nepali boy standing on the other side of the window, looking to clear our plates. He looks at our books with hungry eyes, at the thought of walking hand in hand with his sweetheart through a campus. Of being free. Of learning. Of classrooms of ours and how they are so different from the small TV room down below the ground, where it's hot and how he can't sit there. He smiles so broadly at me, and I think to myself. There's got to be a better way.

Gurgaon. Heppy Gurgaon:

I am standing outside Gurgaon's centre pieces of attraction. Two malls that seem to fill the sky and our hearts with desires. Demand and consumption. One is an urge to be satisfied, the other is a disease. But then economics is as far away from etymology as can possibly be. Hilbert space. I stand outside, breathing in the fuming air. Ten in the night, but the dry night air could be as hot as burnt rubber. The moon full in the sky seems to be looking at me with a rather mournful eye. I look at the six rickshaw wallahs standing by the side of the road.
-MDI
-Beez rupiah saab (Twenty rupees)
-Areh? Hum toh pandrah hi denge (Our offer is for fifteen)
Five minutes later, I am sitting in the same rickshaw, as a frail young boy attempts to press the pedals, to propel us the distance to a college which is to him as far away as the moon. I can smell the vodka fumes from the friend next to me. Burly as I am, I look at the rickshaw puller. Thankfully there's always a chance. As I share the beer I purchase with the rickshaw driver, I can see his shoulder blades bunching as he takes a long draught of beer. As he pulls us with his feet to distant shores he may never reach I see him turn around to smile at me. I think to myself. There's got to be a better way.

Profits. Peppy Profits:

As I wake up I hear the voice speak again about "Profits". "Profits", is by itself something I can tolerate. I bristle at "Thought Leadership", and fume at "People policies". "Profits" is a milder cousin. "Profits" is the black sheep. "Profits" is something I can live with. Not what comes next. "Profit is everything".
- Excuse me prof. Everything?
- Surely that is the fundamental premise of operating a company.
- I nod my head and think about a far away place like Flint. And as I look at the windmills of my mind I think of a place closer to home. Gurgaon. And then I think to myself. There's got to be a better way.

There's got to be a better way.

An inventory problem

I don't have enough clean underwear. Got to wash more of them, or get some more I guess. Theme song till I get some fresh underwear is Pink Floyd's "Wearing the Inside Out". Thaankfully don't have to go "commando" for some time.