Random Ramblings

Prof kehte hain ... ( inspired by Papa kehte hain frm QSQT !) Dedicated to the b-school goers ! Here it goes : Doston, Aaj submission ka aakhiri din hai … Aur sabhi ne apne project ke baare mein kuch soch rakha hai But maine kuch nahi socha hai … Really … I mean it … Aur aaj baar baar mere dimaag mein yahi baat aati hai … Prof kehte hain badaaa naam karega, Student hamaara aisa kaam karega, Magar yeh to .. Koi na jaane … ki meri slides … hai kahaaan … Baithe hain milke, sab project mates apne … Sabke dilo mein armaan ye hai … Wo presentation mein, kal kya kya bolegaa … Har ek nazar ka sapna yeh hai Koi introduction ka kaam karegaa Globe maarne mein koi apna naam karega Magar yeh to .. Koi na jaane … ki meri slides … hai kahaaan … Mera to sapna … hai i-bank jaana … Dekhoon jo usko jhoome bahaar … Account mein khilta dollar ka mausam, Style mein jaadooo, bangla aur car ! Banda ye khoobsurat kaam karega … Powerpoint ki duniya mein apna naam karega … Magar yeh to … Koi na jaane … ki meri s

It was yet another mundane day at the office. The client had once again told to pull up the socks, if the project had to be completed in time. My manager had one again told that my work was still not upto the mark. I was feeling totally demotivated as I strolled past the park on my way home, when I decided to sit on an empty bench in some corner of the park, which was surprisingly vacant. I was throwing stones at the tree which was a few meters away, but missed it every time. This wasn’t a proper day to try all these. Maybe I would end up hitting somebody, and probably landing at a hospital.Then suddenly this old gentleman came and sat beside me. I smiled and he reciprocated. This man seemed to be somewhere in his 60s, but yet seemed full of energy. He was dressed in an executive suit, which I found a little odd initially. Maybe, he was someone in the high echelons of the corporate world. Anyway, it was none of my business. Yet, few minutes later I found myself engaged in a deep conver

(My first attempt at writing a short story … read at your own risk!) Moments later after I somehow managed to throw myself in the train compartment, it started moving. Had I been stuck in the traffic jam for even a minute more, I would have had to book my tickets once again. But finally I embarked on the journey, the one which will lead to my homes, the one which will make Bangalore “the city I lived in” from “the city I live in.” I finally landed in my seat, somehow adjusting my luggage below and over the seat. I was really exited about the journey. I had managed to secure an admission into an IIM and was soon going there for a management education. To add to this I had a beautiful girl sitting next to me in the train. This was sort of unusual, as the coach usually I travel in hardly has any beautiful girls in it (courtesy Murphy's law). Later on I got to know from the reservation chart that she was Aditi Mishra, Female (obviously!), 21 years, going from Bangalore to New Delhi. “H