A photo-shoot, a few meetings and a Tango

Not a usual day at Darden. But that was my day today. With just three weeks to go before classes end, it has sort of begun to hit me. The fact that it's getting over. And if you have read my posts for long enough and/or have known me, you would know that transitions make me uncomfortable. My parents finally booked their flight tickets. Which means that now I have to start planning the itinerary of their first US visit. Leaving this place, travelling with parents, travelling with friends and then finally moving to Dallas - there's a lot coming. Exciting? Yes. But also unsettling. 

Anyway, back to this day. The photo-shoot was for a Darden marketing material (yes, I might make it to a glossy brochure, for all you know) with another second year and my marketing professor. So we sat down (well, actually, I was standing with the bag on my shoulder and my shirt sleeves rolled - because it fit my "student" image) in Flagler Courtyard and chatted casually as the photographer clicked a few snaps. It helped that my classmate actually had something to talk about and we didnt have to fake a conversation. The pictures did look pretty cool. I hope I can get my hands to them sometime.

The meetings were nothing out of the ordinary to be very frank. But 'A photo-shoot and a Tango' seemed kind of empty as a post title. And so here we are. The meetings ranged from talking to the new publisher of the student newsletter about the transition, to meeting a professor and getting ideas on how to wrap up the project, to a short lunch about the elementary school tutoring program that I helped run. A good mix, I would say.

And that brings us to the Tango. I'm doing three courses this quarter. One on social entrepreneurship and responsibility which has guest speakers in almost every class and we get to have dinners and lunches with them. Another one is on literature. Fiction at that. So far the reading list has been - the novels The Great Gatsby, The Good Doctor, The White Tiger, and the short stories Barn Burning, The Killers, and Love is Not a Pie. And the professor also invited a group of us over for dinner where I had the best grilled salmon ever. 

Doesn't sound like B-School, you would say, right. I agree. That's why I took these courses.

The last course I'm doing is about Theater. Yes. Nothing to do with business unless you start really stretching it and talk about teamwork and collaboration and all that lingo which we love. One rock-star professor, one director,  and 24 students. Last Wednesday, we had formed groups amongst ourselves and picked up 10-minute plays which were to be performed today. I was amazed at the amount of effort I spent in it. And all of it was so much fun. It was a bit like being in undergrad and getting involved in extra curricular activities.  Never feels like a burden and you achieve so much. 

The Toy-Story like play about three toys about to be discarded, a crazy sequence featuring two extremely drunk men and two women,  a girl and her craving for candies, a dead man and a dead woman who are tied to each other for eternity, two faculty members talking about student-teacher affairs, a brash young man, his friend and the waitress in a cafe and the weird grocery store meeting of a man and a woman who have almost too much in common - there was a lot of variety on display. And all the performances were worth watching. 

It's one of those moments that stand out from the myriad experiences that you have. Performing a play in a B-School. And in 3 weeks from now, the 24 of us will write, direct and act in a totally original play and perform it in front of the entire second year and first year class. How crazy is that!

And about the tango - that's how the grocery store play ends. With a rose in my mouth. And apparently we were terrific. So said the professor and the director.

Moments from the Ah-mazing Spring Break - Istanbul

Tram ride from Eminonu to Sultanahmet: Tram rides and walks seem to be a more authentic way to get to know the city. You also get to see more of the insanely beautiful Turkish women. Trams are super crowded though, and the internet had warned us about holding on to our belongings. We get down at Sultanahmet and JM calls out to the three of us to make sure we have our wallets and bags. The moment after, he realizes that his camera pouch is empty. We re-board the tram and look around the floor. But it's obvious it just didn't fall off. This time around, the jokes start almost immediately . Fortunately, he had downloaded his London pictures. And the rest of us had Greece covered. I sigh about losing a few awesome Facebook profile pictures.

In front of the Sultanahmet Mosque:  It's a little cold and overcast and the steam coming out of the brass container made it look all the more tempting. The four of us decide to try the Sahlep, a Turkish hot beverage. 3 Liras for each cup, he says and even as HW hands out the money, he tells us that the guy is overcharging. It shouldn't be more than a Lira. We notice that unlike other roadside one-man stalls, he doesnt have the price written down anywhere. We stand there sipping the Sahlep (which I really like, by the way) and see what price he charges other people and to find out if there's any price discrimination. An Asian tourist couple comes by and they dish out 10 Liras for two drinks. Price charged is directly proportional to distance from Istanbul, I make deduction as we move on with a smile that says 'we know you cheated us but it's ok.'

Looking for dinner near Sirkeci: It's a small by-lane and there's hardly any crowd. It's our first night in the city and we are looking for some Turkish cuisine. The restaurant manager comes out inviting us. The menu has a lot of variety and is priced well. The next door restaurant guy also comes out and requests us to come over. The attention is pleasantly surprising. We tell them we will come back soon and walk off to explore more before deciding. A few minutes later, we are back there. We tell the guys to decide where we should sit. 

'Two of you can come here and the other two can go to his place'

'How about all four of us come to your place and we promise to come back later to his place.'

'Ok my friend. Remember, it's a promise. I'll wait for you'

The meal is fabulous. And half the items are on the house - bread, a spicy tomato based paste, salad, and Turkish tea. We order a chicken and a lamb curry based dish (cooked with onions, bell peppers and served with rice). The guy was supposed to close the restaurant at 11 but its closer to 12 by the time we get done. It's a small place and the look of satisfaction on the guy's face makes us happy too. We ask for the check to one of the waiters and he is almost embarrassed that he doesn't know English. At each instant you get the feeling that they are trying hard to make sure you are satisfied. The look on the waiter's face says 'I'm sorry I only speak Turkish. I hope it doesn't take away from your experience here.'

It's a very different feeling from dining in an American restaurant. Yes, it's Istanbul and the restaurant is small and all that. But beyond that, you feel an underlying authenticity about the way these guys go about feeding us. For all I know, it's their job and all of it is a well thought out script. But I like to think otherwise. 

Next day, we come back to the other restaurant. The manager remembers us and shakes our hand. He seems genuinely happy that we kept our promise.

To be continued....

Moments from the Ah-mazing Spring Break - Greece

Athens (Metro from the airport to the hostel): We get into the train and just as the door closes, AA shouts out, ' Oh shit, my bag!' The train picks up speed as the three of us helplessly watch his bag lying on the platform bench. We get down at the next stop, change sides and within four minutes are standing in front of the same bench. Nothing there. We look around, climb up and down the stairs, report it to the security who tells us very honestly and with a smile and  that even if they find the bad the laptop would be gone. AA is super pissed about losing his laptop, all his data (pictures) and the I-20 which will give him entry back to the US. Luckily his passport is in his jacket pocket. We tell him that the I-20 would be replaced (another friend is coming to Istanbul later and he can get it) and console him about his loss of data. An hour later, we are making fun of him as we go out into the city - 'AA, did you take your bag. Oops, we forgot about your generous donation to the Greek economy!' Friends can be cruel.

Santorini (9:30 AM Breakfast): Sotiris, our host, is phenomenal. He's funny, always ready to help and has an air of genuineness about whatever he does. The night before, he brought us local white wine upon our arrival to the hotel. Over the 3 days we learn more about him - that he used to study Criminology in London, he's originally from Albania, has been trying to get a Greek passport and has a friend in Florida who is setting up a restaurant and is asking him to come. He shows us the hill which is up for sale for a million euros and suggests places to go. Luisa, the very pretty receptionist also points out places on the map that we should visit. All of us are very attentive as she writes down the names of the restaurants and shows us the places by pointing them out from the balcony. 'And this is Oia.', she says as she points out the farthest tip of the island. 'It has very beautiful sunsets. Remember, it's pronounced as Ia, like Ia Ia O'. 

Coming back to the breakfast, when we asked Sotiris what time would breakfast be available he told us he would prepare it anytime we were ready. So 9:30 it was, and we requested him to put it outside.

Athens Sports Bar (St. Patrick's Day Karaoke Night): AA, JM and I sing Stand By Me. The crowd loves it and we don't make a fool of ourselves. Buoyed by this, JM and I decide on singing Last Kiss. Both of us are a little high and really enjoy ourselves. The karaoke guy likes it too and gives us free shots of Ouzo. Nobody has yet taken up his challenge of singing a Led Zep song. A decent performance wins drinks on the house. So JM and I put in our names for Stairway to Heaven (probably the easiest Led Zep to sing!). Afterwards we have some expensive Irish Whiskey which I don't remember. The crowd soon leaves for James Joyce Irish pub. We follow them there. The scotch is too strong and none of us wants to spoil the entire next day by waking up late. So we leave the drink unfinished and head out.  A two euro chicken gyro in the corner tastes heavenly as we walk the streets of Plaka back to our hostel.

Athens (Somewhere near Monastiraki Square): Somebody singing 'Hallelujah'. It's a beautiful voice and the strumming is different from the version I've heard. Of course, I stop. In a secluded by-lane, this guy with a cap is singing. No mic or amplifier and yet his voice is booming.  All of us stop and listen to him for a couple of minutes. He finishes and smiles at us. We drop a few euros in his guitar bag and ask him where he's from. Scotland, he says. He's here to record but hasn't been able to figure out the details with the studio. He's still optimistic, he says and hopes things will work out soon. We tell him that he's got a phenomenal voice. He thanks us and credits the acoustics of the street and the hour of the night. It's pretty late. I wish him the best and we wander off. 'What an amazing life.' I say. 'I would say, its more sad than amazing.'  says my friend. I tend to agree and we walk the next minute or so in silence.

To be continued......

The Great Indian Curry

When was the last time I won an award? Can't remember. Story of my life. Above average but never the best! So it was obviously nice to get the Best Curry prize. The best part however, to use the cliche, was the process. 

It was the Darden chili/curry cook off where around 18 teams were preparing a variety of chillies and curies. Around 3 gallons was the requirement so we decided to start off a day in advance. 

6 pounds of organic chicken breasts, whipped cream, yogurt, milk, spices from the Indian store, coriander leaves, ginger, garlic, lime juice, onions and tomato paste - the ingredients were bought on Wednesday afternoon. We prepared the marination paste by mixing yogurt with chili powder, turmeric, salt and lime juice. Mixing it well with the chicken, it was kept in the fridge to be cooked the next day.

We were pressed for time on Thursday so we decided to make the curry on Wednesday itself. A Bollywood playlist was selected, the volume turned high, and in went the chopped onions, tomato paste and the assortment of spices in the largest pan that we had, as the red curry simmered with intermittent tastings and addition of cream, milk and more masala. Later at night, when the curry was done the three of us decided to go out for a few drinks. A friend came to pick us up and as we entered the car the others said - 'Wow, you guys smell of yummy butter chicken.'

The marinated chicken came out of the fridge on Thursday afternoon as we launched phase two of the project. We medium roasted the chicken in the oven before putting the pieces in the curry. The volume had doubled so we split the curry into two containers and set it on low heat. In the meanwhile, the brilliant poster idea - "FINGER LICKERS Present The Great Indian Curry" was conceived. Of course there was a lot of absolutely hilarious and mindless conversation around this which will not be posted here.

The last bit - garnished the curry with coriander leaves and whipped cream, put the containers in the car trunk, drove as slowly as possible and were just in time for the start of the cook off at 6:00PM. By 6:30 PM, we were scraping the bottom for some leftover curry.

Learning to cook and enjoying cooking has been one of the more tangible benefits for me in the last couple of years. No, seriously. To master chefs AA and HW, strong work guys!

Reading Again

Always, at every moment, asleep and awake, during the most sublime and most abject moments, Amaranta thought about Rebeca, because solitude had made a selection in her memory and had burned the dimming piles of nostalgic waste that life had accumulated in her heart, and had purified, magnified and eternalized the others, the most bitter ones. 

                                                                          - excerpt from One Hundred Years of Solitude

I've gotten back to reading. Or so I would like to think. During the winter break, I managed to read 'Love In The Time of Cholera', my first Marquez. I was hooked. Every moment described in excruciating details, the semi-fantastical setting and the heart breaking story of unrequited love was unlike anything I had read earlier. So I decided I would pick up 'One Hundred Years of Solitude' next. I'm a little more than halfway through it and have a feeling that I would finish it this time. My previous attempt during the winter of 2007-08 had been a disaster. In hindsight, I was not in the state of mind required for the rather slow and intense reading.

I'm probably the worst multi-tasker I know. This, despite being almost done with my MBA! So I cant, for example, read and watch TV at the same time. Or browse and listen to music. I don't enjoy it and I invariably end up losing one thread completely. Anyway, the point is, I need time and space to read novels. So last Saturday when I woke up early (8 o' clock) and saw the sun streaming through the balcony door, I decided not to open my laptop and instead pick up the book. For the next 5 hours or so, I kept reading. Stopping only for the cup of tea and bowl of cereal in between. The phone didn't ring and there was no music playing. And the world didn't change because of my absence from Facebook.

Enough talking about reading. Back to doing it.

The Little Things

At Darden, seemingly ordinary, little things can make your day. And much of it often comes from the wonderful faculty that we have here. So when the professor from first year quarter 1 says 'Hi Atish' in the hallway and then you go on to have a conversation about your full time offer and the new term structure for the first years and the winter break and what not - the thing that strikes you most is the fact that you were a very average student in his class and he still remembers your name even though you haven't talked to him for almost a year. More so when at a charity reception, where there are a couple of hundred people, another first year professor, after playing with the faculty band comes over and says, 'Hey Atish, good to see you again'

People here genuinely make an effort to know you. To remember the conversations you had with them. It's infectious, to say the least. 

First week of classes in January. Financial Institutions & Markets. It's a whirlwind of a class - true to the reputation that the professor has. There's not a dull moment as he cold calls and makes jokes and talks about banks and capital ratios and dances around the class all in one breath. It's like a theater. It's definitely a performance. And I don't care that I will never use all this in my job. The experience of being there is worth every minute. And I leave B-School knowing about how banks and markets work. Win-Win, right?

End of the day.  around 5:00 PM. I'm leaving school. 

'Atish!', I hear someone call out. It's the finance professor.

'So how was class today.'

I mumble something on the lines of  'Great! I learned a lot......'

'Well, see you tomorrow then. It's going to get more interesting!' And he leaves with the same spring in his step which he had at 10:00 AM.

A couple of weeks later, we do a Harvard case on Salomon Brothers and the Treasury market. It's a very well written case and I actually understand now how this thing works. After class, I'm at the cafe ordering a sandwich.

'Good job in class today, Atish'

'Oh thanks! It was a great case. I think it was one of the better Harvard cases we have done'

'What do you mean, MY cases are not good!'

I pause for a second and say, 'Oh no! I meant EVEN your Harvard cases are super'

'Ha Ha. Great answer Atish. You get extra class participation points.' And we walk off with our sandwiches.

Competitive Dynamics Seminar. Same professor from first year strategy. So it's less surprising that he knows me well. He wants to take the entire class out for dinner to celebrate the Chinese New Year. Too bad that the 25 odd students have conflicting schedules. So he decides to have the make up class (due to the half snow day that we got earlier) in the Abbott Dining Room and have lunch instead! Not that we haven't eaten in Abbott before, but having a class is a new experience and more than that, it is the thoughtfulness of the professor to make it a memorable experience for us.

These are not isolated incidents. They keep happening. With all of us. All the time. And bit by bit, they add up to what's best about this place.

Break Ke Baad (After The Break)

So my month long winter break ended this Sunday. A pretty eventful stay, I would say. Attended a friend's wedding, met a few school friends (one after 10 years), visited the city I spent the first eighteen years of my life after nearly four years, dad retired and along with mom got the VISA to attend my graduation in May. 

In between all this I rediscovered the pleasure of sitting on the couch and watching a good day of test match cricket, eating Bengali home made food and listening to Bollywood music to start the day.

I moved out of my parents' place in 2000 and have since then lived in Delhi, Bangalore and now Charlottesville. My parents also left Bokaro in 2007 and are now settled in Kolkata. So the concept of home has been a little vague for me. I've come to enjoy, remember and long for bits and pieces of each of these places but as my association with a city ends, over time the fondness fades away. 

Different food; different language; often times completely different conversation topics; meeting and living with a different group of people - be it relatives and parents' friends or the gardener, house maid and driver; different everyday problems and victories; it's like living another life altogether. And I would feel lost at times. I am not sure if I am more 'at home' with my friends in Charlottesville or with my parents in Kolkata or hanging out with my college buddies at a bar in Bangalore or Delhi. May be that's completely natural. In fact isn't that what I have always wanted. To be equally at ease in varied surroundings rather than being restricted to a single identity. 

I don't want to sound like a complete jerk but the last sixteen months have changed the way I look at things and people around me. The filth hurt the eye more and the chaos got to my nerves at times. There were the what-am-I-doing-to-make-this-any-better moments too. But for better or for worse, they remained just that - moments.  Money, lifestyle, opportunities, family and friends, a sense of obligation, adaptability - there would be many factors to weigh. But when the 'Where do you want to settle' question would finally need to be answered, it would be tough. It isn't easy now. It won't be easy a few years from now.

On My Way

Uneasy as I am with periods of transition when I am neither here nor there, I already hate to be out of Charlottesville. The City seems cold, big and alien. I can hear the wind whistling outside my friend's thirty something storied apartment on the other side of the Hudson. I still have a 2500 hundred word paper to write which I just cant seem to get started with. To be fair, though, I did manage to turn in a 3 hour / 4 pages maximum exam this morning which I completed in 2 hours / 2 pages. Clearly, I wasn't aiming for the highest grade.

So a few days ago, I bought this book - In Other Rooms, Other Wonders because it has been a while since I bought one without knowing about the author or the book itself. Amazon cannot replace the charm of browsing through a bookstore on a Saturday afternoon and hence my habit of buying books based solely on titles and blurbs has taken a serious hit. 

Anyway, so the name is what made me buy the book in the first place. And I've been thinking about it since then. It's only now that I realized the slight similarity it has with the title of the last post I wrote about visiting this city.

Can't wait to get on the Wednesday morning flight to Delhi. Thursday and Friday night catching up with old friends and then off to Kolkata on Saturday. And then all would be good again. It's these intermediate periods that I don't quite like.

Snippets From The Thanksgiving Road Trip - 2

Travelling without my iPhone and watch

I always have these 2 things on me. On this occasion, however, I had neither. My watch battery died a couple of days before the trip and 3 hours into it, I realized I had forgotten my phone charger and had 10% battery left. No phone meant no constant status updates and check-ins. It also meant, as we realized in Charleston, SC, getting lost.

After having a delicious meal at A.W. Shucks, (AB had a seafood casserole and I had Lowcountry Crabcakes), we decided to check out the Market where local artisans sell their stuff. From the Sweet-grass baskets, to the trays made of flattened alcohol bottles, to the photographer who used Photoshop to lend a painting like quality to her shots, it was a market rich in variety and style. It was past 10 o' clock and the artisans were leaving so we decided to take a walk on East Bay Street which led to the waterfront. Having reached the shore, we kept walking for a while till it got a little desolate. Instead of backtracking, though, somehow we figured out that by taking a particular route we would get closer to the parking lot in shorter time. Then for the next half an hour or so we kept wandering with no clue as to where the streets were leading us. It was dark and there wasn't much traffic so it became a little frustrating after a point of time. Luckily we found this lady sitting outside one of the houses. AB asked her for directions to Queen Street and we were set. We missed the street, though and had to get into a shop and ask for directions again. It was funny and strange to not have the iPhone to find my way. But I think it made for a more interesting walk.

Helicopter Ride at Myrtle Beach, SC

AB spotted the $20 helicopter ride as we were entering Myrtle Beach and that's how we came to know of it. Again, it was a a chance discovery and was not planned which added to the charm. We ended up taking the $40 one but it was totally worth it. First helicopter ride ever!

Snippets From The Thanksgiving Road Trip - 1

Natural Bridge, VA

We had driven for about 2 hours and it was breakfast time. Pink Cadillac, with its name and color jumped out as the perfect stop. I took the exit and was soon inside this really huge place with Elvis pictures on the wall, a motorcycle at one end and pink coffee mugs. King Kong crushing airplanes outside the restaurant was awesome and the sausage and scrambled eggs tasted great. Perfect start.

While having breakfast, we figured that Natural Bridge was worth a visit. Since we were in no hurry to reach our destination for the day, we decided to take the detour. And this is what we found. Pretty impressive, huh!

Marion, VA - the birth place of Mountain Dew

Buoyed by the Pink Cadillac experience, we decided to avoid eating at big chain restaurants to get the authentic road trip experience. AB, with the help of the map and iPhone figured that Marion was this really small town where we could have lunch. So the via point was set in the GPS and we reached  Marion. 

The town seemed like a movie set. Very small, very beautiful, and very quaint. What made our day, because it's one of those totally cool, unexpected things that you hope to encounter on trips such as these, was this sign on the sidewalk. Second accidental discovery of the day!