It was a strange morning of 26th June 2011 as one passive
arrogant Delhi boy was about to board his Jet Airways flight to
Kozhikode, the quoted lala land of dreams. As the flight took off and
started talking air, he peeped outside to find his dreams somewhere
sharing the same linage of the clouds leading to the heavens; unaware
and innocent of the world that lied hence. There weren’t many
expectations, no godly dreams as he had never experienced the elite club
that he was about to share; the only possible concern was the abrupt
end to the 21 year honeymoon that he had shared with his own land of
Chandni Chowks, the markets of CP and the lanes of
Hauz Khas to the unimaginable meet with
lungis and
naarials; it was about to be some cultural shift for him surely.
As he reached the gates, he was stunned by the sheer brilliance of the beauty that God had bestowed upon his own land. The
lungis had started to appear and echoes of
chetta and
chechi could
be heard loud as began the experience that has been etched in the
memory till he would breathe last. These two years have given him more
than a lifetime, godly people, the most wonderful experiences and more
importantly a belief to lead his life his own way with self resilience.
The first thing that stuck hard and instantly was the cultural
“diversity” that could help meet the ends and bridge the gaps of Kashmir
to Kanyakumari; from Gujarat to Assam; from bong to bhaiya ji and from
Anna to Paaji. The people intellect had started to seep deep into his
pores within a few days of his arrival.
Amidst starting the
journey and burning the throats in a section war; the change had started
to take a toll on his body too with illness and blisters sprayed all
around; the declaration of pox. He was bed ridden for a couple of weeks,
away from the crowd, away from the glory which he had just started to
experience. Then followed the Birthday parties, the GPLs, the all night
banters all as a refreshing participation. He wasn’t measured relative
in antecedent; so he had to study like anything only to lie in the
bottom half by the end of the first term; yes LIFE had just arrived for
him with a wide smirk on its face, arms opened yet carrying a teacher’s
stick in hand.
Leave apart academics, he had always carried a
strong belief that he was a good dancer till he encountered better, a
decent scribbler, till he encountered the best; all at the God’s den, it
so started appearing that God himself was breathing human in 328
different bodies. He could always see up in the air a placard shouting
loud “The world has people much better than you dude”.
The battle
then progressed to the “summer” cattle auction and he was bid amongst
the lowest for a real estate newbie. By the beginning of term III, the
ever so memorable trips to Verkala, Alleppey and others had starting
teaching bliss as he unearthed the real magnificence behind the
coconuts. The wagon then shifted bases to Mumbai for 2 months to adore
the summer heat. Tough to recall much of the in-office experience,
someone unique came along the way in the journey there too, real and
pure as the transparent seas flowing by.
The latter half of the journey was supposed to be all chill out and a real ride and it proved no less. While all the
bakar, night outs to party were showing the chillax mood, the performance in business competitions was showing that
some part of all that was learnt was indeed solid and core.
It
was only by this time that he could enchant the hymns of values in the
lines once quoted by Harsha Bhogle (IIM A alumni), “It’s tough to get
into an IIM, but it’s tougher to get out”.
This Kampus had taught
him so much from showing the true cultural shades of India to the
amazing intellect that people have; from the godly professors to the
serene calmness. It taught him the capitalist flavour that we all are
scared of, yet it’s the life’s inevitable destiny. The journey had its
emotions all sprayed out. There were tears of pain and ecstasy; there
were discussions that cannot be weighed in gold. There were people whom
you can forget for more reasons than one.
It was another morning
of 8th March, 2013 as he boarded the flight back to Delhi. Some part of
the arrogance was still there, but somewhere the man had uplifted a
number of stereotypes; some passiveness was still there but there was a
cry from within to touch the active. 2 years was a lifetime in itself
living a complete circle. He went out of his comfort to live a dream, a
dream of life. One may bid a goodbye physically but the soul still
kisses the skies. Life has a new chapter ready to open up but the golden
memories shall always prevail till we survive this race.
Singing off
To my Alma mater IIM Kozhikode
A true capitalist with a tinge of social responsiveness
