I Am Legend

I have nothing more to say.

Return of the Jedi

Darkness.

It was 5.30 am in the morning. The air was damp. Visibility, limited. A sudden gust forced me to draw my jacket closer to my body. I was surrounded by trolleys and shoulder bags of various sizes and brands. Beside me stood Bharani, similarly attired, surrounded by his own luggage, having just paid off the taxi-wala a whopping 900 bucks for a 45 minute ride.

We had just traveled a 1,200 km over 29 hours in a rusty old train – an average speed of little more than 41 kmph. My mom rides her TVS Scooty faster than that. And then the taxi for the 22 km to the college, paying a higher amount than for the train. Anybody would be exhausted.

We were not.

Because we were finally inside the hallowed grounds of NITIE. We were standing right outside the legendary MDP Hostel (more on it later), facing a map of God’s Own Campus*. Of course, we’d been here once before – during our trip here for the GD/PI – but this time was different. We were students now! It was one of those classic ‘dream come true’ moments to cherish.

Even before coming to the campus, us PGDIM students had a fair idea about life at NITIE. We’d talked, heard and read quite a bit. From forums, blogs, seniors and the aspirant relations team. We even have our very own Life @ NITIE page. So we were forewarned about the series of case study competitions, the lush, green, campus, the constant rain, the 96 stairs every morning, the pathetic food, NITIE Sarovar (our very own pond) and even the leopard that pays a visit every winter (seriously). But the first thing that struck me about NITIE that morning, as we entered the ‘reception’ area of the MDP Hostel was none of those things. (Of course I wouldn’t be writing this blog if it were the leopard!) It was something far more beautiful, yet far more terrible than the leopard. No, the first thing that caught my eye was –

Insects.

Of every shape, size, color  and variety. Estimates put the number of extant species of insects in the world at anywhere between 6-10 million, potentially representing over 90% of the different animal forms on Earth, and easily more than half of all known living organisms; 900,000 have already been identified. It is said that, for every human alive, there are about 200 million insects in this world, and that there are more insects per square mile on an average, than there are human beings in the entire planet. They’re also some of the strongest, most stubborn and highly adaptable creatures ever. A cockroach can apparently live for up to 9 days without its head, post which it dies, only because of starvation! And scientists and Hollywood producers have more or less agreed that the first ETs that we’ll encounter are most likely to be bugs with antennas protruding from their heads.

...and then we'll insert the tubes into your brain-thingys and switch on the power!

So you could understand our apprehension when we stepped into the hostel and encountered about half of those 900,000 in the reception area. If that doesn’t wake one up, I don’t know what will.

Anyway, the initial shock buzzed down and we came to accept the reality – that like it or not, we’re going to be sharing the campus with these guys for the next two years, and that there’s absolutely no escaping it. And to be fair, they were here before us and are probably going to outlive us easily too. We might as well try and get in their good books. No point antagonizing them. So, taking extreme precautions to not step on any of them, we made our way to the couch and tried to rouse the warden who was fast asleep, seemingly oblivious to the danger in every inch around him.

Five minutes of broken Hindi and 400 bucks later, we finally held the keys to our room for the day, and now faced just this one small hurdle of getting 10 pieces of luggage up 6 floors to our room. Thankfully, the elevator worked, and we managed it in 3 trips.

3 hours later, I woke up with a start. To the theme music of ‘Soodhu Kavvum’, as mum called to enquire about everything. After quickly reassuring her that everything was fine and wishing her and dad a happy wedding anniversary, and my sister good luck for her first day at her new school, I collapsed on to the bed again, and didn’t wake up for another 2 hours.

Once we woke up properly, the rest of the day went by pretty much normal.

As normal as it could get considering it was your first day away from your family and home that is. A few surprises, a few not so. But we had a lot of our firsts at NITIE that day. Our first stroll around the pond and discovering a huge dead silver snake by the banks; our first exploration of the area outside NITIE, and deciding never to have a chai again in that shop near the end of the road; our first photographs of the campus with the cameras in our phones, and wondering if we should’ve brought something bigger and better; our first cash withdrawals from the ATM inside the campus, and realizing with dread that there would be no more credits to the accounts; our first walk to the football ground and getting caught in the downpour on the way back, making a mental note to never leave our rooms without an umbrella again; and our first breakfast in the college mess, where we couldn’t even make it to our third dosas, another first!

And then it was time for the hostel registration. The MDP hostel we bunked in that morning was only a temporary arrangement as we’d arrived much earlier than necessary. This meant one thing.

That our glorious partnership was about to come to an end.

For both Bharani and I had pre-booked our roommates for the two year stay at NITIE. Mine was to be a quirky, bespectacled character named Eshwar S Raman Bharadwaj.

The Jedi!

Match my sexiness, you shall not!

I’d first met Eshwar during the GD/PI rounds 2 months earlier, and couldn’t quite place him one way or the other. Now, as far as first impressions go, he might come across as this really nerdy guy who keeps talking and worrying about exams and placements and committees and whatnot. It’s really quite amazing how he can go on and on and on discussing his fears and skepticism about everything in life - it can annoy the most patient people easily at times.

But then he's also this extremely charming person with such a diverse profile, he can keep you interested and entertained easily. Each day you discover something new about him. So far, I’ve managed to figure out that he speaks about 5 languages fluently (including Sanskrit and French), is proficient with the guitar and the mridangam besides having a striking command in vocal music, plays cricket as a genuine all-rounder, has a brown belt level II in Karate (he’s very particular about people not forgetting the level II part), and is gifted with incredible networking and communication skills.

This awesome guy does not really belong here. A combination of ‘family’ commitments and a childhood resolution meant that he had to decline his on-site (Russia) posting offer, quit his job, and pursue his MBA at NITIE like the rest of us.

But I did not know all this back then, and when he had called me for the first time to ask me if we could be roomies, I had my reservations - I generally don’t like to plan much in advance, and simply go with the flow. But having Eshwar as roommate offered its own brand of safety and attractiveness – here was a guy who was sincere and serious enough to keep me in check and make me study should I get distracted, a fellow Tambrahm and teetotaler  and most importantly, someone proficient in spoken Hindi. The last point, especially, had vetoed the vote in favor of his proposal!

So it was that on the afternoon of the 12^th of June, 2013, Bharani and I were to part ways (for the time being) and register for our hostel rooms separately.

Fate, as it turned out, had other plans.

The rules strictly stated that we could register only for ourselves, and cannot save the other slot for a friend not in campus at the time. And both Eshwar and Ramkumar, Bharani’s would-be roommate, were flying in only later that night. Which put us in quite a dilemma. Either we could wait for our roomies to arrive and register for the rooms the next morning, or we could change the plans completely and register to be roommates ourselves. Seniors had very strongly advised us to get done with the booking ASAP before all the ‘good rooms’ were taken, and that we would soon learn to get along fine with whatever roommates that we ended up with anyway. A lot of phone calls, discussions, negotiations and apologies later, Bharani and I finally decided to go for it ourselves, and to face things as and when they come.

Though I had a suspicion that all the events of the previous 8 hours had been somehow, naturally, leading to this point, I somehow couldn’t get this nagging feeling away – that I’d broken a promise to this Eshwar guy. What if he didn’t find a suitable roomie when his turn to register came the next morning? Would he still want to be friends with me? I couldn’t shake off the uneasiness. Neither of us could – Bharani had done the same to his guy. Still, we did what we had to do.

We entered our signatures in the log and finally obtained the key to room number 207 – beautiful number. Ours was on the ground level that still had to be accessed via a set of 6 stairs due the incline (NITIE is basically built on a small hill you see). We were greeted by a whole lot of garbage strewn about carelessly outside in the corridor, ominous signs for what lay within. And then, summoning all our courage, we pulled aside what was once probably used as a mesh-door, unlocked the main door, and taking a deep breath, pushed it inside for a first glimpse at what would be our home for the next 24 months.

Now, NITIE is known for a lot of things, but habitable hostel rooms clearly isn’t one of them.

My first instinct was to run back to the MDP hostel and hide under the bed. Memories of my room at our place in Chennai came crashing back to me, my constant whines to mom that the room was not big enough to play carom on the floor, haunting me with each passing minute. That was a palace when compared to this. For this first time in my life, I really, really, felt the horror of young Harry Potter being made to live in that cupboard under the stairs for all those years.

Our room basically ended before it started. There were two creaky old iron beds, with worn out, pale blue mattresses from the 20^th century. The 2 speed ceiling fan was a foot away from our heads and we had to be careful not to stretch our hands while standing, lest we lose a finger. There was this one common dirty wardrobe for us to keep our clothes in, and two other cupboards for us to keep books or other miscellaneous stuff – I tried one of the doors of mine, and it came off completely in my hand! The toilet/bathroom was a haven of insects from ants to spiders to centipedes to even snails, and the latch wouldn’t work. There was crude graffiti all over the walls, and there was a balcony overlooking the road that leads to the mess below us, completely covered by shade from the giant trees above – no chance for the sunlight to get in. We were each given a desk for the laptop/books, and mine couldn’t be brought in from the balcony, try as we might. There was just the one small light bulb/night lamp which wouldn’t work, and there was a stack of old, smelly newspapers in the corner. Both the LAN ports were faulty, as was one of the plug points.

I mean, we’d gone in with very low expectations to start with. And the room still managed to shock us! If possible, the feeling of guilt was even more pronounced now – was this room really worth all that urgency? Did I bail out on Eshwar for this? Would he ever forgive me?

The rest of the day was pretty much uneventful. Bharani and I decided to keep the time spent in our room as minimal as possible, so we went back to the villa that was the MDP hostel. (It primarily exists to house distinguished guests, alumni and corporates who visit the campus, so is much better furnished) The lunch was so bad we started to pray for a better dinner already, and Bharani and I did some light shopping in the evening. Throughout the day we kept running into vaguely familiar faces from the GD/PI process, Impact-ers, and other classmates we met in the Impressions meet in Chennai. But nothing could lift my spirit. At about 10.30 pm that night, as I was watching Spiderman 3 in the TV in our MDP Hostel room after an equally depressing dinner of roti and dal, I received the call.

The Jedi was in town!

His parents had come to see him off, and the family had taken up a room in the MDP Hostel too, just a couple of stories beneath us. But I was really worried about how I was going to face him, that too with his parents beside him. Would they judge me? As it turned out, he wasn’t in much of a hurry either, and we planned to meet up the next morning, in our room. So I finished my movie and retired to bed on my first day at NITIE at about 1.30 am that night, and dreamt about home and mom and dad and sis and friends and Darth Vader. It was a disturbed sleep.

"Give yourself to the Dark Side. It is the only way you can save your friends!"

Morning arrived, and we had to vacate the room. Two daunting prospects were in store for the day. Finally coming face-to-face with the man, and the first module registration and document verification process. As I was still deciding which worried me more, the knock on the door duly arrived.

Moment of truth!

I opened the door, and one look at the smiling face of Eshwar swept away all my apprehensions and doubts. There is such a charm, such warmth in his smile that makes you feel he really is happy/ pleased about something. With Eshwar there’s no faking. No sarcasm, no middle ground, no grey areas. Either he’s happy or he’s not, and he’ll let you know without question. And that morning, it was all happy.

We exchanged numbers, swapped stories of how we got here, our jobs and resignation, leaving Chennai and all those friends, and the formalities that lay ahead. And for the whole time, he did not once mention about the promise I’d made to be his roommate. As fate would have it, he had registered for his own room with none other than Ramkumar that morning, and they were both happy to have landed up with each other.

Everything became easier after that, and we spent the whole morning and afternoon together, for breakfast, registration and lunch, and we knew something special was in store. There was a bond. I could tell.

But the thing that truly made me let go of my guilt and regret was later that afternoon when Bharani and I went to visit their room in Hostel 1. It was in every way worse than ours! Now I truly got what our seniors meant about taking up the best rooms in Hostel 2 at the earliest. I am a nice guy with conscience and all, but I couldn’t possibly live in that space that they called a room!

So as they say, “All’s well that ends well!” Two months of classes, case studies and cleaning later, my room doesn’t suffocate me anymore, I can find my stuff after less than 10 mins of searching in my bed, the flush works almost daily, I’d learned not to slip and fall down on the wet floors all over the college, we’d encountered 3 more snakes but 0 leopards, and Bharani and I have our own pet dog outside our room at all times – she’s totally the sweetest little thing ever!

Best of all, we’d found a new best friend in Eshwar Bharadwaj, and hang out all the time together – arguing/fighting with each other, doing assignments, discussing girls, eating Maggi noodles, or reading from Heizer’s. These days, on a typical night at hostel room 207 at NITIE, one would witness a scene somewhat like this -

"~~Welcome to the Hotel California!~~"

Life's good :)

[Note: Ours is the rightful claim for the title ‘God’s Own Campus’ – IIM-K do not get it simply because Kerala is God’s Own Country. In any case, they spell the last word with a ‘K’ as is their wont with everything that starts with a ‘C’, and we aren’t too bothered as long as NITIE figures in 7/10 first page results in Google Search.]

[This post concludes the 3 part series describing my experiences on my first day at NITIE. If you’d stayed with me till the end, RESPECT.]

The Empire Strikes Back

On the wee hours of the morning of the 12^th of June, 2013, I found myself practically jogging after this porter, a wizened old man of about 60 who was carrying 3 of my 5 bags out of the railway station and to the taxi stand. Who would have thought that this man possessed such strength or speed? So there I was, trying to keep up with this old guy who for some reason I suspected wouldn’t hesitate much before selling off my luggage to anyone who offered a 100 bucks per bag. Maybe I was just being paranoid, I don’t know. But I’d just entered this huge, intimidating, new city at 4 am in the morning, about to move in to a new place, separated from my family for the first time in my life. I would be mad not to.

Mumbai, FYI

Just then, like I needed any more complications, a new guy enters the picture – this one was a big, fat, mean taxi-wala guy. Usually you’d expect such men to just be some cool, confident, I-know-you’ll-eventually-be-mine kinda fellow that you should be careful to avoid. Come anywhere close to the swamp, and the crocodile would devour you. And the crocodile also knows that he needn’t do much. He’ll wait you out, and when you finally give in to the thirst, he’ll take you out. You wouldn’t stand a chance. Sound bad enough? This Mr Taxi-wala was worse. He was actually a wolf, impatient, cunning and strong. The wolf scans the area, spots the prey, and charges head on, giving it his all! What chance does a lamb have?

So I got caught in his radar, and before I knew it, he was all over me, using the one super-potent and unfair weapon in his arsenal that could easily finish me –

Hindi.

This guy should’ve been a salesman, he’d make a damn good job of it. Not because of any charm or persuasive power. But by sheer persistence, unmatched aggression, and non-stop jabbering. People will buy just to get away from him I guess. That, combined with the fact that I was looking lost in an alien city whose language I don’t understand meant that, a mere 2 minutes of ‘negotiation’ later, both the porter and I were following him now. Right into the woods, from where there would be no escape. He was faster than even Gandalf, carrying my stuff was, and we both struggled to catch up with him. The wolf had smelt blood, and the lamb had all but lost hope.

"It's over, little one. Give up!"

Until, that is, Bharani arrived.

Much like a knight in shining armor  He too, had his own taxi-wala to deal with, but he, at least, looked to be in control of his steed, and not the other way round. Tall, strong, and fairly accomplished with the local language as he was, meeting this guy – a familiar face from the GDPI day – that day, at that point of time outside the station was, to me, the stuff of fairy tales.

He practically bailed me out, dismissed the redundant taxi-wala, paid off the porters, and agreed for a taxi-share for the long trip ahead. Suddenly the equation had changed in favour of the Chennai Super Kings, and the road ahead for me seemed much more manageable.

That the taxi-wala still managed to have the last laugh is a different matter – the meter readings rose so fast that even the Chennai auto men would have been put to shame – we ended up paying 200 bucks to the porters, close to 900 bucks for the taxi fare alone, plus Bharani lost a 500 Rs note somewhere in the chaos.

But more importantly, we found each other that day, our first respective friends at NITIE. And as it turned out, both of our arranged room-mates were to reach the college only later that evening, and so as to not miss out on the best rooms, we ended up signing for a room together that morning itself.

The rest, as they say, is history!

[That concludes part II of the Star Wars Trilogy. Don't miss the epic finale - "Return of the Jedi"! Cheers!]

A New Hope

A sudden, screeching noise and a shocking vibration in my breast pocket woke me up with a start. Even so, I fumbled in the darkness for a few seconds before locating the mobile phone. It was the Rooster Alarm! After hurriedly switching it off before the other passengers start cursing me, I took a moment or two to breathe and come to my senses.

I could still clearly recall the faces of my parents as they waved me goodbye less than 30 hours ago, half happy, half sad, and becoming increasingly smaller. I could tell that the former was for my benefit. There were no such pretenses with my sister – she was close to tears. My own heart, I remember, had been pounding as if I had just gotten off the treadmill after a 20 minute run. And then suddenly - after a second or 100, I couldn't be sure – I couldn't see them anymore. Anyways, all that was 2 nights back. The previous day had hardly registered - I couldn't remember much; I didn't want to.

And then the alarm rang again, and I forced myself to the present.

I realized that I had almost reached my destination. It was still pretty dark outside, and I could make out few outlines of buildings, but I sensed that I was close. Also, the train, which had been slithering along sedately for much of the previous day with its typical rhythmic thuds, suddenly seemed to be in a hurry, not unlike a sprinter within sight of the finish line. Mulund, Nahur, Bhandup, Kanjur Marg - local stations sped past in a blur of black with some dull yellow here and there, and against a backdrop of the faintest hint of navy blue. Or were my eyes not working properly? Daylight was hours away, I estimated. Something about the last station sounded vaguely familiar, but I couldn't figure out what. I still wasn't fully awake, I realized. The nice lady in the lower berth had given me clear-cut instructions to disembark at Dadar. She must have herself gotten off in Thane – the coach was empty but for me and my luggage.

My luggage!

My God, I’d forgotten all about my luggage! My Adidas backpack and laptop bag included, there were 5 in all! How was I going to get them all out safely onto the platform in the teensy window of time the train would catch its breath at Dadar? I jumped down from my perch immediately, and started pulling out the trolleys – there were 2 – from under the seats. It required some effort. Now for the shoe bag, and the two on my berth I had hugged to sleep last night for fear of theft. The Five were finally out, dusted, and ready to face the busiest, most popular city in the country. I thought I saw Matunga just rush past the window to the right. Time for some final checks before ‘we’ move on – Mobile, check. Earphones, check. Laptop charger, doesn't work anymore, but check. Wallet check. Sweater, check. Sandals, check. Good then, everything was accounted for.

Light Saber, Check!

And not too soon - I could already sense the train slowing down; sounds of tired people, uneven, shaky footsteps and heavy dragging could be heard from either side of my coach. I led my motley crew towards the nearest exit. Even the air-conditioning was fading out, I realized. A sudden sense of claustrophobia gripped me – this was it. This was where all those days of studying and revision and mock tests and application form filling were leading to. I had known that the moment was not that far ever since that magical night when Sriram had phoned me to inform that I’d made it to NITIE. I had seen it all coming, but along those last few steps came a sudden sense of finality that I hadn't prepared for. Couldn't possibly prepare for. This was it.

Almost it, actually. The train was still inching along to the finish line only it could see. There was now a small queue in front of us and a bit larger one behind – sleepy, disgruntled passengers who wanted nothing more than to catch the first taxi home, where a warm, welcoming bed was no doubt awaiting. Not me. I was 1200 kilometers from home, about to set foot in new territory. New, big, mysterious territory that would reluctantly host me for the next 24 months, with neither party unsure of the plans for after. This could be the making or the end of me. I marveled at the calmness of my co-passengers – aren't their hearts racing too?

And then the train screeched to a stop, as if echoing the pain and the fear inside me. The bald guy jumped off first, and the family in front descended onto the platform more gracefully. Their worlds had clearly not just been turned upside down. It was my turn. I struggled to urge my team forward, to those unfairly steep set of 3 steps by the door. The mother turned to look back a second, and my own little farewell scene came crashing down in front of my eyes once again. I couldn't move. Incoherent voices seemed to originate from every which way, and a mass of people were pushing and pulling along noisily in the direction pointed out by the exit signs overhead, but all I could see were the faces of my family. When would I see them again? When did sis stop crying the other night? Are they still asleep now? The people in the queue behind were starting to voice their objection now – they didn't understand. How could they?

They were wookies after all!

An old wizened porter arrived and started negotiating with me in Hindi. Not that it mattered that I didn't understand a word. My throat was parched and dry, and I still couldn't focus away from the sight of mom waving me goodbye. The same mixed expression of part happiness and part sadness etched on her face.

But wait, was there more? I now seemed to detect a distinct shade of hope along with the other two. And was that thing there a faint glimmer of pride? 

And then it hit me. Of course there was both pride and hope in their faces. Had been, all along. Pride that their son was leaving to pursue his MBA in one of the most prestigious institutions the country had to offer, a family first; and hope that the following two years of hardship and separation would turn out to be a worthwhile investment for a better, more prosperous future for each of us. How could I have missed it before? It had been sitting right there in front of me, all along, but I had been too immature to recognize it. And with that epiphany, the cloud lifted.

And I was Bombay-ed properly.

Pulled into all of it - the chaos, the complexity and the commerce that had been renamed Mumbai a few years previously. While the sudden splash of light, sound and people would have disoriented and unsettled me normally, it only served to force me quicker into action that day. It sharpened my focus and cleared the way ahead in my mind. The porter was still talking about the weight (I guessed) involved and money – albeit in the tongue that I’ve always been uncomfortable with. But it didn’t matter. I was ready for him this time around. This was positively easy. “Theek hai, chal!” I confidently told him, with a reassuring nod. He didn’t need another word, and started lifting the biggest trolley bag and placed it carefully on top of his turban.

As he proceeded to the others, I could clearly see where to from there. I was standing at the doorway on a train in Dadar for one, and only one purpose – for my post graduate education. That would hopefully lead to a very good job at the end of 2 years, preferably in Chennai. Even if it didn’t turn out to be my hometown, there was no way that I was gonna leave my folks behind another time. They’re coming along too, wherever it was that my road led to. Of that I was sure. And with that cheerful thought, and driven by a new sense of purpose and direction blazing inside me, I finally took the first steep step down. And then the second. The porter had already started walking with 3 of my team towards the exit.

I looked up at the darkness above and said a silent little prayer - I needed to do this, so God help me. I paused for the briefest of seconds and inhaled the surroundings once. Awesome. And then, with my lips curving into the faintest of smiles, I took off from the 3^rd step and jumped on both feet onto the platform.

So it begins.

This was it. Things would never be the same again. It was 4 am in the morning on the 12^th of June, 2013, in Mumbai, Maharashtra, and the air was thick with rain. I had finally set foot in the arena.

The game, was on!

[This is the first of a 3 part series describing my experiences and emotions on the first day after landing in Mumbai for my PGDIM at NITIE. This has got absolutely nothing to do with Principles of Organizational Management. Sorry Dr. Mandi! The proper blogs will follow.]

Disaster Movie

So last week we were all given a cube to play with. Nor quite a Rubik's cube - this one was a 'navrang' cube with 27 removable sub-cubes, and removed they were.

Can probably be used as a pencil stand?

The first challenge was for two of us to volunteer and solve the cube - put it back into place with the given set of constraints - 

1. Each face of the cube must have all the 9 colors. Which also means obviously that none of the colors can be repeated on any face - since there are only 9 slots in each.

2. We only had 5 minutes in which to solve the cube in.

Since our professor had 2 sets of the navrang in possession, he invited two groups of two students each to come to his desk and try their luck. The 27 smaller cubes were clustered randomly on the table, and it took the teams more than a minute to even segregate and arrange the smaller cubes in some order. Neither of them came close.

And then Prof. Prasad took over.

Management Lesson #6: Identify. Organize. Solve. And Communicate.

He explained to us how a lot of problems, both in life, and in organizations, are similar in nature, multi-faceted, unexpected, and with time constraints. How they all have smaller, individual elements to them that have to be solved for us to solve the complete puzzle. And how, with the application of the right principles of management, we can actually, pretty easily, solve them. He encouraged the two teams to take apart their half finished, incorrect cubes once again, before returning to their seats. They did so halfheartedly.

Being a first-bencher, I got the best seat for what followed next - a methodical, yet elegant arrangement at the end of which our professor had brought back the navrang to all its glory, with surgical precision and a seemingly easy procedure.

He was timed at less than a minute and a half, and even that was because he had been explaining each step in the process.

The key to solving any problem, is organization. You organize your problems, and their sub-problems in order, and that is half the job taken care of. The first step is to segregate the similar elements of the problem - the like-colored cubes - together. Once you have done that, everything else falls into place, and your coming out successful is simply a matter of applying simple logic and common sense in each level, and avoiding any mistakes while you do so.

And then, you win!

Not all organizational problems are as difficult as they might seem at first look, and even the very difficult ones can be managed, provided you apply principles of organizational management to them. 

Another key concept in all of this is the importance of effective communication. The better you are at communication (either way), the better you learn how to do things, and how not to do things. You can watch and learn from the experiences of your seniors, or the mistakes of your peers, and nothing can teach you better. Unless it's name was T.Prasad, of course.

He pointed out how the solution to the 'navrang' is available in youtube for all to see, and yet how few people can actually solve it. Reasons included - 

1. The videos are not that popular - Reach is everything; unless you really reach out to the common man, how do you expect him to learn from you, and get better? Surely if Gangnam Style can do it, something this useful and interesting - Prof Prasad can explain close to 10 concepts in POM from a single cube solving session - can too, right? I'll leave it to you to decide for yourself.

2. Language barriers - How is a short, seemingly boring, home made hindi video going to teach a departmental store owner in Madurai, Tamil Nadu, to overcome the challenges he faces everyday? How would it encourage him to even click on to the link and watch it, in the first place? The answer lies with us. If each of us make videos of the lessons that we learn here, in our native languages, and market and popularize them via the social network, YouTube and blogs, maybe, just maybe, that store owner might be interested to try it out someday when it reaches his Wall!

3. Ineffective Communication - Just making the video in the desired language and getting it to reach your people isn't sufficient. You must communicate crystal clear what, why, and how you're going about doing, whatever it is, for whatever reason it is, and however it is, that you're doing. That, my friend, is effective communication. The videos currently available are not, and they have a huge scope for improvement. What are we MBA grads for?

So that concluded the session's learning from the cube, and we came out from the class, very impressed with our professor, our pride a little hurt that we couldn't solve it on our own in the first attempt, and lost in thought about how our own lives were similar to the cubes, and whether we would one day get them all right someday!

As always, thanks for reading, do leave your comments, keep thinking, and take care!

Ciao!

"Wait! Wait! Where d'you think you're running off to? You've still not touched upon the title of the post", you ask. "What's with the disaster movie? Surely you weren't misguiding us all this while, were you?"

Ok fine, here you go.

IMDB Bottom #2, indeed!