The curtains fall.....

More than 820 classes, more than 1230 hours, 33 professors, innumerable guest lectures, presentations, assignments, project reports. Sweat, toil, blood and tears. Euphoria of A+s and the disappointment of Cs. Summers, ensemble, elections, public production, juniors nite, parties, placement processes, treats. Myriad of non academic activities, both value adding and non value adding. Finally today XLRI dream run ends. Today at 6 pm, the class of 2008 will move on to a new beginning. A new beginning as alumnus. As managers. For a lot many of us it is the last academic class we shall be having. As one of my close friend has put it, some one press the pause button and rewind...

I need a home

In the wake of the recent controversy unleashed by Mr. Raj Thackeray, here is my take. I am leaving this post open for comments. Help me find an answer.

I was born in Ranchi in erstwhile Bihar, now the capital of Jharkhand. My schooling was in Ranchi and in Bangalore. My parents have settled in Bangalore for close to 18 years now. I studied and learnt Kannada while in Bangalore at the same time out of my own initiative I learnt my mother tongue, which is Bengali. I learnt Hindi as I loved to read the literature in it. I did my engineering in Jamshedpur in Jharkhand. I met my dream girl there who is Oriya settled in Pondicherry. Then I went to work in Pune and subsequently that company transferred me to Mumbai. I got through one of the top B-Schools in the country located at Jamshedpur. The offers from various companies are mostly based out of Mumbai, with a rider that I should be mobile. I am a gourmet and love to eat food from various parts of the world. I love life. I love celebrations. I love to gorge on sweets and burst crackers during Diwali, but come December I eagerly wait to decorate the crib and eat plum cake and pudding. I wait for sewai during Id. I bow down before a temple, a church, a mosque, a gurdwara. My passion is stirred when I see the tri-color. I lustily sing Jana-gana-mana. My best friends are a Punjabi from UP, a Hyderabadi from Orissa, a Malyalee working in Jamshedpur, and a Malyalee from Delhi. I give my identity as an Indian. I love the vastness of this land. Unity in diversity. That is my country to me. It is my country. It is where I was born.

Till date I was never afraid of being an Indian. I dint know my caste till a few years back. I dint care. I was an Indian. I was a son of the soil. Does it mean that to be a son of the soil, I need to be born in the village? Is there any group that I belong to? What if I dont want to be part of any region? What if I say I am an Indian. This is my country. Mumbai blasts shocked me as much as the Nandigram issues. I volunteered to serve my people when the Tsunami hit Tamil Nadu. One of my best friends who is a TamBram started a drive for educating and enriching the lives of orphans in Pune. Should he not do this and stick to his work in TN? Why are you taking my country away from me? I dont want a state. I want the country. It is MY country. India is my Mother land. Should I stop being an Indian and stick to being a Bengali? Or perhaps even that is not acceptable as I was not born there.

My last bow

One of the few people in XL who were jobless enough to go volunteer, organize, hang around any event that happened on campus, yesterday I took my last bow. Retirement from all social activities in XL. They were immense learning experience. Lots of fun. Got to see that side of people which is normally not seen. Met some very talented people. Some very creative people.

Saraswati Puja was celebrated here. Some of the pics from that.

Public Production

Public Production at XL is that one evening when the students gang up and inflict a play on the citizens of Jamshedpur. This year was no different. The only difference was the play, it was completely done by XLers. From the writing to the casting to the sets to the costumes to the lights and sounds.

The theme of this year's play, The Shadows Within was Godhra Riots and its affect on individuals who are unconnected and meet on the train. Staged in an innovative split stage method, this play relied on lights and sounds to create the atmosphere needed for the play. My part in the play was behind the scenes, with the props and stage. Here is the stagecomm pic. The Group who rocked the stage, backstage.

Testimonial time

It is that time of the year again when you write testimonials for your friends and your friends write one for you. Then there are the year book photos etc etc. Each passing day reminds you how close you are to leaving the campus.

Some wonderful people, some people who you have grown close to. People who you look up to and who look up to you.

To part is the lot of all mankind. The world is a scene of constant leave-taking, and the hands that grasp in cordial greeting to-day, are doomed ere long to unite for the last time, when the quivering lips pronounce the word - "Farewell." It is a sad thought, but should we on that account exclude it from our minds? May not a lesson worth learning be gathered in the contemplation of it? May it not, perchance, teach us to devote our thoughts more frequently and attentively to that land where we meet, but part no more?

How many do we part from in this world with a light "Good-bye," whom we never see again! Often do I think, in my meditations on this subject, that if we realized more fully the shortness of the fleeting intercourse that we have in this world with many of our fellow-men, we would try more earnestly to do them good, to give them a friendly smile, as it were, in passing (for the longest intercourse on earth is little more than a passing word and glance), and show that we have sympathy with them in the short quick struggle of life, by our kindly words and looks and action. - Coral Island, R. M. Ballantyne