The 'F' word...

It's been a tough, tough last 7-8 months being an 'F'. In fact, a friend, a fellow 'F', called it one, big, extended week. Life has come a long way in the past year or so. I was still an awkward, shy yet confident guy this time last year, now I am a .....hey! wait a minute! I still am all that...to top it, the confidence has probably taken a dent or two. First year at IIM A is just about a month away from getting over (if i see it just once, that is), and I am the same? I mean after all, it has been called a lot of things, even a concentration camp. But I wonder if it was all that bad at all. I do look forward to no longer being called the dirty 'F' word though....by the way that's F for Faccha. Now, don't get me wrong guys, this isn't some little word play I am doing. 'Faccha' is almost an abuse out here. Probably the only one where the person actually said it with a tinge of sympathy and dollops of pity, but the receiver still felt abused, violated also :-). But was it really a concentration camp? Did we go to hell and back again? Not really. One of the amazing profs out here had remarked,"If you are not in the top 20 or the bottom 5, you don't have to worry about your grades, do you!?". I couldn't put it in a better way. Not to say that I never let it all get to me. There were times when I felt like getting away from it all, and even did (felt much better after that!). Yeah, it was a great learning experience (cliched but true!!), but most of it came outside of the numerous case-mats, the endless handouts, and bulky textbooks (No, notes don't figure in my scheme of things). The learning came from the in-class gossip with the guys sitting near me, the chai sessions at Rambhai's stall (hole-in-the-wall), and mostly from the great friends I've made out here.

Word of advice for future Facchas...I guess Dead Poet's Society explains how to go about it well enough. We gotta suck the marrow out of life, for when we come to leave this place, we shouldn't realize that we have learned nothing that a pile of books wouldn't teach. All the same, when you do that, don't choke on the bone! Get the assignments done, prepare for class (err...hypocrisy disclaimer out here :-P ) and then, only then do other stuff...like writing blogs.

I yam what i yam...

In the mood to bash up a beaten up topic today...The one on my mind actually is the question of origins, roots, and the whole "where-you-from?" saga. Being born a maharashtrian, then brought up in goa, spending 4 of the most influential years in jharkhand, and back to maharashtra for a couple has not helped me any in getting a single word answer to the question. And so many others must know what its like, that i cant help but ramble about it. Well the diktat of glamour, charm and well...'comfort'...makes me lean towards being a Goan. But having talked the talk and walked the walk of a maharashtrian, i wouldnt mind proclaiming "Mi Marathi" either. Jharkhan i leave out of the now two pronged race...albeit reluctantly. Its there that most of the best memories of my life are from. Great...so now we have 'sun-n-sand' Goan vs 'pride-n-culture' Maratha. If the average reader by now isnt searching for my number to call me up and tell me to get a life, well i agree its a trivial issue. The disclaimer is that this rambling is purely academic and germinates mainly from the desire of being able to answer the question "where-you-from?" in a single word and get on with it. Within the myopic reaches of the country one faces this question so often that i feel the need sometimes to whip out a quick answer. Outside, the word 'India' would proudly suffice. Till then, maybe i should just learn to live with it and focus on more pressing "what-are-you?" issues...such as arrogance, stupidity and a bloated ego.