5:30am: Good morning to the world, and good night to me.
5:45am: One of the mosquitoes sang part of Alizee’s “Moi Lolita”, in my ear. Five seconds later, it completed the rest of the song. It was one lone bloodsucker that managed to sneak in to the mosquito net I had so creatively tied around me (four ropes were made by tearing apart a pillow cover into four vertical strips – done out of pure frustration when a gang of them did a group rendition of “Emosional Attyachar” - looped half a dozen times, when I was asleep).
5:50am: Thirsty. I got up and out of bed, and reached out for a bottle of water. I heard the drone of a score of helicopters. Looking back, the mosquitoes were all neatly tucked inside the net, and I was outside. Quite not the intended configuration!
6:30am: Partly asleep. I managed to do a mass-murder, revenge to the above Spartan attack, and most of them were dead. There was peace all around. The mosquitoes had turned Sumo wrestlers and me, anaemic!
7:30am: CLASS AT NINE! CASE-STUDY TO BE READ! RANDOM COLD-CALLING IN CLASS! HAVE TO SPEAK FOR CLASS PARTICIPATION MARKS! NOT READ A WORD! I began searching for the case binder on my table. What came out was a crumpled version of the previous day’s Bombay Times (for everyone read it), and a neat stack of the Economic Times, seven of them, all untouched by hand! I finally found the binder, measured the case in terms of “number of pages of written material” and “number of exhibits”. 15 pages and 15 were the measures. Consensus measure worked out...
8:10am: Woke up again. The consensus measure was that I sleep more and read less of the case.
9:00am: In class: Sticky hands due to the breakfast eaten while travelling in an auto. Lost half of the sandwich in transit, and spilled the tea on to the Starbucks case material! Read 5 pages and 0 exhibits, out of the measures cited earlier. My point in class was nowhere related to what was read, but I saw the pen making a mark against my name in the “class register”, and was happy at the stimulus package having worked out for the better.
2:00pm: End of class for the day. Bakar followed. We had our share of swearing at faculty who made life miserable for us. Swears exhausted, we were hungry.
3:00pm: Lunchtime! Charlie and I were at the hostel mess, trying to sort out the confusion in eating. The thali was for Rs. 30. We paid up, and got the tokens. The guy behind the counter took our tokens, and said: “Aloo Ki Sabji khatam, Chana thoda bacha hai, Jeera rice das minute pehle khatam ho gaya, green salad aaj banaaya nahi...”
3:10pm: Our plates resembled the Thar desert – acres of emptiness with rare occurrences of scattered oases.
3:30pm: Back to our room, hunger half-satisfied. Four of us made a mad rush for the day’s Bombay Times. We fought. I got Priyanka Chopra’s face, Charlie got half-an-advertisement of Royal Cha... (Abhimanyu got the “...llenge” part of it!), and Bharadwaj gave up and decided to settle for the Economic Times. I had managed to kick the wall of Room. No 47, while fighting. Somebody at Room. No. 43 felt the seismic tremors, and asked us to tone it down. Talk about structural strength of buildings!
4:00pm: We had finished debating about why filmstars were upto what they were. Time to sleep...
5:45am: One of the mosquitoes sang part of Alizee’s “Moi Lolita”, in my ear. Five seconds later, it completed the rest of the song. It was one lone bloodsucker that managed to sneak in to the mosquito net I had so creatively tied around me (four ropes were made by tearing apart a pillow cover into four vertical strips – done out of pure frustration when a gang of them did a group rendition of “Emosional Attyachar” - looped half a dozen times, when I was asleep).
5:50am: Thirsty. I got up and out of bed, and reached out for a bottle of water. I heard the drone of a score of helicopters. Looking back, the mosquitoes were all neatly tucked inside the net, and I was outside. Quite not the intended configuration!
6:30am: Partly asleep. I managed to do a mass-murder, revenge to the above Spartan attack, and most of them were dead. There was peace all around. The mosquitoes had turned Sumo wrestlers and me, anaemic!
7:30am: CLASS AT NINE! CASE-STUDY TO BE READ! RANDOM COLD-CALLING IN CLASS! HAVE TO SPEAK FOR CLASS PARTICIPATION MARKS! NOT READ A WORD! I began searching for the case binder on my table. What came out was a crumpled version of the previous day’s Bombay Times (for everyone read it), and a neat stack of the Economic Times, seven of them, all untouched by hand! I finally found the binder, measured the case in terms of “number of pages of written material” and “number of exhibits”. 15 pages and 15 were the measures. Consensus measure worked out...
8:10am: Woke up again. The consensus measure was that I sleep more and read less of the case.
9:00am: In class: Sticky hands due to the breakfast eaten while travelling in an auto. Lost half of the sandwich in transit, and spilled the tea on to the Starbucks case material! Read 5 pages and 0 exhibits, out of the measures cited earlier. My point in class was nowhere related to what was read, but I saw the pen making a mark against my name in the “class register”, and was happy at the stimulus package having worked out for the better.
2:00pm: End of class for the day. Bakar followed. We had our share of swearing at faculty who made life miserable for us. Swears exhausted, we were hungry.
3:00pm: Lunchtime! Charlie and I were at the hostel mess, trying to sort out the confusion in eating. The thali was for Rs. 30. We paid up, and got the tokens. The guy behind the counter took our tokens, and said: “Aloo Ki Sabji khatam, Chana thoda bacha hai, Jeera rice das minute pehle khatam ho gaya, green salad aaj banaaya nahi...”
3:10pm: Our plates resembled the Thar desert – acres of emptiness with rare occurrences of scattered oases.
3:30pm: Back to our room, hunger half-satisfied. Four of us made a mad rush for the day’s Bombay Times. We fought. I got Priyanka Chopra’s face, Charlie got half-an-advertisement of Royal Cha... (Abhimanyu got the “...llenge” part of it!), and Bharadwaj gave up and decided to settle for the Economic Times. I had managed to kick the wall of Room. No 47, while fighting. Somebody at Room. No. 43 felt the seismic tremors, and asked us to tone it down. Talk about structural strength of buildings!
4:00pm: We had finished debating about why filmstars were upto what they were. Time to sleep...
4 comments:
Haha :D
But is it so miserable?
Hahaha nice one subbo..u shld write one about "fadu's pull up", "sadu being locked in the bathroom", "hungry like hell at night what to do", "no water again damm" or maybe "how to make friends:one thing you can always talk about" :) :)
VERY WELL IGNITED THE SPARK.CHANGING OF GEARS ENFORCES TO CURSE THE MARSHY ROADS.SO GET A BOASCH SPARK PLUG,SPANNER IT WELL AND THEN A HAPPYY RIDE.
BYE
awesome...... true life of a MBA hostel
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