An MBA – what it really is

There is something Seth Godin has written in his latest blog post about an opportunity to do a 6 month learning stint with him – what he calls an alternative to an MBA.

Forget about his pitch. His program. It is not for everyone. Plus he is a marketing guru, so the program makes sense for those who intend to be marketing people managing marketing companies…and live close to NY.

But I would appreciate if you read the post.

The post talks about changing your life. The point of the post is what he says about jumping the track, about the Stanford MBA giving him a chance to do something different.

I know Rex who took the chance and did an MBA. He still preferred what he had initially and returned to it – he is happy that he jumped and took the chance. Now he really knows what he likes. I know many others who loved the life post the jump. It did change life for them.

Overall, its reassuring and it reconfirms what I say about an MBA - an MBA essentially is something that gives you the fillip to move to something you otherwise could’nt have. An MBA may not be everyone’s answer to a transition, or a change – or what my father called ‘entering with an advantage’.

I did not want to be an Engineer or a Doctor. My parents wanted me to be both. I did the next best thing – gave an entrance exam and got myself into the best Science college of its time (and second best now) in India – Presidency College, Calcutta. Sure, I did Botany. But I enjoyed every bit of it – OK not every bit. I loathed Taxonomy. I just cant  memorise names of plants given by fancy by an old now-dead scientists. I envied organic chemistry but then Zoology gave me hope. They simply dont have a nomenclature system. But I veer.

At that time, in my house there were only select few career options open to me. On my fathers side, every single person is an Engineer – it was unimaginable to my grandfather that I was not going to do engineering. My other grandfather is a doctor. Everyone wants a doc at hand – so I was the choice.
But I did Botany.

There were a couple of choices open to me after that as far as my family saw it. The most obvious, and the one followed by my classmates was masters followed by a PhD. Most of the people who did graduation with me are submitting theses now. I could also get into IAS, but I dint want to.

The only thing that could change my life at that point was an MBA. An MBA was something general enough to give me a spring board to get into any industry I wanted, into a job. I never wanted to do commerce. I did science in school and I loved it. I did Botany in my graduation and it was amazing fun. So I changed my life after that to get a good job. I changed myself from becoming a scholar – though many of my professors lamented (and still do) at that. But then I did an MBA. And enjoyed it. Actually, I enjoyed it more than anything else I had done till then.

But the MBA prepared me. It changed me from what I was. Nothing intrinsic, but it gave a perspective. It channelised what I had. Like Seth mentions, an MBA is a finishing school, really. It teaches you how to work in groups, clearly, and be good at dealing with people. It enhances your skill at doing work fast. I met 160 people whom I would meet for the rest of my life – while I was not being judged. I learned how to understand people and figure out how to make them work. I saw some stalwarts manage people naturally and envied them bitterly.

Sure, when I went to work I was still a novice. Sure, I learned commerce and economics and finance and marketing and strategy and human relations management during my MBA. But what I really learnt was not there on the textbooks. It was an experience. It was a chance – it changed my life. It gave me a platform for easy entry into almost any industry, into almost any profile. From a Botany graduate struggling in work life with limited options and low pay, two years made me eligible for any industry I pleased.
Some of my college classmates are working now, after their MSc. However, their work is related to what masters they did, and they never really had an option when they started working. They dint change their life by one fell swoop, they changed it day after day working away at it. Nothing wrong with that, but its the hard way – or the easy way whichever your point of view is. Hard because it takes long to reach a level which can be reached in two years. Easy because then you dont really have to take a call as to what you want to do. Doing an MBA is taking a conscious decision that you want to change your life and that you want to do “x” thing, and that you need a platform for it. Its a smart choice.

There are some lucky people who know what they want. They don’t need platforms and change their lives. But an MBA is a spring board for those who want to, smartly.

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Of course, a lot depends on the institute and also depends on the country. In India now, its almost necessary to get and  MBA – ts like an engineering degree – everyone has one. But when I did my MBA it was rare. How things change in 6 odd years!
It is also enlightening to see how perspectives change. How little I knew when I did my graduation – how few avenues were open. Computer Science was cutting edge and I almost joined it. There was a college offering a diploma in Advertising and it was a thing of awe.

Mother Blog

I usually post on Dippyblogs on LiveJournal. In fact, have been doing so for years. However, I have realised in recent months that sometimes I want to traackback, sometimes I want it non-personal.

Hence, I am introducing a wordpress account from where I will crosslink my entries to LJ. Yep, the LJ account will still be a home, but I will have the choice of posting some of my posts here.

Welcome to Dippy who Blogs.

My Comfort Zones

The weather in Bombay seems to be mirroring the sentiments of the city – or at least part of it. Finally after a day of cloudy dull weather with no wind, today we can see rays of sunlight filtering in. The birds too seem a little more active than yesterday when all they did was sit around and suddenly take flight without a sound, en masse. It was eerie.

With the final official assault over, I guess the task begins to put together pieces of broken lives. Easy to say but so difficult to do.

On a regular weekend with my work done, looking for peace and comfort and relative anonymity, I usually wander off to Colaba. After walking down the crowded causeway with its many hawkers selling impossible and often useless items of brass jute and stones, I end up in Leopold's with a warm smile from the restaurant manager directing me to a small empty table. Having ordered my drink – a huge glass of fruit juice (there is no size except huge available) or a beer, I usually settle down there for an hour or so, read a book or just stare at people/ nothing. No one bothers me, no one ever comes back to ask for a second order. You call the waiters if you want something, a waiter who is usually conveniently hovering around, but not spying. They have their own thoughts. They are fun and polite and often provide snippets of information if they feel you are open to them. There is a general buzz in the air in Leopold's – the constant lazy movement of the fans hanging from the extremely high ceiling of the 1800's architecture, the buzz from the occupied tables, from the pavement and people on it. Because Leopold's opened out to the pavement via large French window kind of doors – never closed. Three pillars demarcated the pavement from the restaurant/ pub call it what you want. It was my comfort zone. The place where I could be part of a milling crowd yet be alone, not bothered, isolated. The Fried beef and onions and the prawns – chinese style were to die-for.

Sometimes instead of heading off in the afternoon, I would go to the Hilton cafetaria or sometimes the bar, and gaze out to the sea though the thin strip of Marine Drive road and loads of trees. Sitting in the air conditioned environment and quiet gentle music everything seemed all right with the world as my freinds and I sat there nibbling on something.

Why am I writing about them today? Because today is the kind of day I feel like going to a Leopold and probably end it with an hour spent in the Hilton bar. But both are out of reach. I was there last week, but I dont know when I will go there again.

When I used to stay in other cities and came to Bombay for short visits, I would always make it a point to go to Leopold's. It was what Bombay meant for me, for as long as I can remember in my adult life. But that is the place where my friend's colleague got hit by a bullet.

The back lane of Taj is known for its famous Bade Miyan and Chote Miyan late night roadside stalls selling the most amazing non veg food, famous due to its hotch potch crowd and being open till early morning, serving hot kathi rolls to whoever came there. Its a corner away from Leopold's, and a favourite place for late night roamers. It was also the first place where I ever saw gaily dressed high profile, rich transvestites in all their glory of evening gowns. Till then they were the normally dressed variety seen in Calcutta, but never a Mercedes driving spangled person I saw eating next to me at Bade Miyan in 1998. There was a fire there earlier this year but they rebounded almost immediately due to popular demand. But now I wonder if business will resume there, and when.

All these comfort places have gone now. I dont know when I can next go there aimlessly and alone. The Trident Hilton, The Taj, its back alleys, the Gateway of India, its polaroid photographers, Leoppolds, the surrounding shops. All so near yet out of reach. At least for today, for this Saturday and perhaps many more.

Terrorism – more

Sitting in a meeting a few minutes ago with a top management person whose TV was tuned in to 'Times Now' on mute, discussing the financials and future of a company seemed surreal.

Looking at the TV while someone answered a phone, sometimes I felt like screaming out – Why are we here discussing inanities?! There are people being killed, mourn!

And then the prosaic me answers – But the company will exist, they will still need a bank, both will still function. I will exist and I will also need money. Being emotional and worrying will not help anyone.
Perhaps thats what all these people think.

Yet it still doesn't make sense. It still makes sense to be emotional. The strongest emotions give us power to do things we wouldnt otherwise dare to do – fight as terrorists, or against them. Sure, the daily bread is important. But it can wait for one more day. Meanwhile we can build our morale to do something.

The prime ministers address yesterday wasnt depressing in what he said. It was how he said that made it insipid. Where was the fire behind the words he spoke? Where was the conviction and assertiveness that what he said was indeed what he meant?

Emotion. We need emotion. Else whats the point of the prosaic us? Whats the point of economy if there is nothing for it to sustain?

Fear is the key?

So sang Iron Maiden. To what I ask.
People are back to work though there is an air of gloom all around. But I ask, why are we back to work? Why were people in different parts of the city still going to office yesterday? I personally know someone who almost went to the CST station yesterday – a place where indiscriminate firing had taken place day before evening. Because apparently he has some 'urgent' work. Oh totally. The only thing that stopped him was – offices and roads closed. Work so important.

When does the apathy end? When do we stop acting like ostriches with our necks so deep in the sand that extricating them is impossible. Fear. I feel fear. I feel so afraid that the places which I frequent so often have been attacked – and so mercilessly. That people I know have been shot at and forced to spend time inside hotels as collateral hostages.
It is scary to note that once again in Indian history people have to factor in 'killed by firearms' as one of the possibilities of “causes of death”. Gone are the Peace times.
The top police men, including a man who is/ was a legend of encounter operations were killed – and their vehicle hijacked. Think about it. Three top police men and a fourth inside a car – get shot, killed, and their vehicle hijacked and driven away by terrorists.

The top hotels – landmarks of the city – nay – icons of the city are still occupied by terrorists. These men are so well trained that they have been continually monitoring their hostages (no one knows for sure whether they still have hostages) and fighting the armed forces for more than 36 hours now. I grant you that our forces are dealing with it well – systematically and cool headedly wiping clean the areas amidst irrational media pressure.

Already some international media are pointing to religious fascism as the cause. Balderash I say. If religion had something to do with it, the attacks wont be at religion neutral places and would not target international tourists. This is beyond religion. This is a hatred towards the country.

There is a feel of fear in the air, though people are tending to act normal. Some of them. Most though, are going on like nothing happened. It is this … absence of acknowledgement that gets to me. Why are we not acknowledging that there is something seriously wrong??
What is wrong in saying that there is an issue – the country is at risk! At least if we openly face it we can openly work towards doing something about it – seeking help internally and externally if required. Why do we have to brush it all under the carpet and wish it away? There is a school of people who want to destroy the country and its economy by deeming it unsafe. They will not vanish if we don't acknowledge them. The don't-acknowledge-and-it-will-vanish strategy only works for tantrums by stupid children – and that too not always.
At a basic level people are more worried about stock prices than being shot. The news on TV is now a high TRP reality show to be discussed intermittently with lots of enthusiasm – gossip. As if it is a bad Hollywood movie minus Bruce Willis or Superman.

And that makes me scared. Scared about what happens next. Companies don't have the guts to ask employees not to come to work. The government does not care about putting a Red Alert on the city, much less a curfew for a day. That scares me even more. If we are a nation with a central government, why is it that we have to look out for our individual selves? The BSE is in Nariman Point. The place supposedly under curfew with Police and Army patrolling. Then how is it that people are sitting there and the stock market has opened?

Does it make the pain lesser if you dont react? Does it make you feel better if you avoid the issue? Perhaps it does. Perhaps that's why people here are not yet insane with apprehension and fear. Perhaps that's why the so-called 'blind eye' is being turned. For the comfort of peace situation. I don't know. I sure am trying to be part of the peace scenario while people get killed a few kilometers away. There is a tight sensation in my chest and I cant do anything about it. I cant go up and fight for the commandos there. I am not strong enough to start my own army for the country. All I can do is wait and watch and hope the axe does not fall on anyone I know – because thats when it hurts most. And then, like so many others, I come to office – but I try to work while others forget about those fighting for us.

I will do the least I can – remember them. Remember the day, feel the fear and tension.And I will not joke about it. Not diminish the essence and scale of the issue at hand. That's the least I can do.

Another Indian Book

Arvind Adiga. True to tradition within 30 pages the man makes you feel depressed & sad through the guise of so-called-humor.
why do prize winning books have to be about underbellies and sadness? Is it to perpetrate the 'true' story or is it for the sake of pseudo-intellectualism?
Now that I've kept the book down I wonder when I'll pick it up. The extract was good goading me to buy it at a crossing today afternoon for Rs50 (against my better judgment). I wonder its worth it. But for me, its definitely better than an original 375 copy.

The Week

This is one of those weeks – where yesterday seems weeks ago and the morning days old.

It is often diffiult to realise this is only Wednesday of the week where Monday meant doing X,Y,Z things – because mentally those things seem to have been done the previous Monday.

This is a perfect example of a highly crammed week at work and outside. One of those rare weeks when the moment I reach home I can fall asleep. The maid has taken time off and house work never seemed more unappealing. The very much Male boss of mine seems to be sporting a rather chronic version of PMS – till now confined to the Female system. I guess its a trickle down effect from his superiors. The economy has not been kind to gouts and ulcers, and I at some level perhaps, can kind of understand the need of unecessary verbal and written down status reports – and then again, perhaps not.

The phenomen seems not restricted to me alone. My colleagues and freinds from various cities seem to be complainng of one or the other of the above ills – though none so far have had to wash their own crockery or contemplate sweeping floors. I guess the Economy becomes kind of a Equality harbringer, especially when its coming down.

But then you hear about your ex-boss having landed himself in a cushy, soft, for-life job and see all the acrilic office gossip vaporise leaving no traces of having been there. And then you wonder abut caste system in todays world – where a Senior will always be in demand, even if he is booted out (which was probably not the case, but being the mean minded person I am, feels good to think – my colleagues vehemnelty nod and agree. At least, Im sure they do if they ever read this) while Management Trainees roam jobless.

The downturn does not seeem to have effected the drinking holes of the city – perhaps it remains the only solace for harassed souls, pub owners included who expected a dent thanks to the smoking ban.

Meanwhile, as time goes on and the world looks forward to a better tomorrow where the stock prices remain at least constant and so does the Rupee/ Dollar and the US finally finishes regurgigating all the ills it has hidden in its belly. Then some misguided Indian souls will look at Obama and perhaps be shattered when he manages to get rid of their jobs – but thats for later. For the moment we shall rejoice for the Man who has a Gandhi photograph.

For now, we look towards the dawn and the promise of sunlight – no matter if its a cloudy day after that. We look towards East and run towards it, while forgetting that all that runing is only helping us to maintain the spot on the treadmill and running faster is physically impossible.

And so we live through days that are longer than weeks, and wonder at the events which happened yesterday with no outcome yet – only to realise it was an hour ago. Saturday never seemed further away.

LJ Caferati India writing Final

The results are out. I dint make it to the top 10, or to the special award. I'm  happy to note however, that in the first round my story got 7 on 10 (average), 7.67 being the highest I could see on the page (except the man who got the prize for highest score in round 1). I really lost out on the second round – something I kind of expected since the judges were your standard Indian Authors. (and anyone who reads here knows my views on them). Especially Judge #1 who thought my story so worthless as to be awarded 4 on 10 @#&%$

Ah well, there is (but naturally) a nudge of disappointment at not making it, but then it was something I kind of expected as well. All in all I think pretty OK for a first time effort. I just wish I would have gone ahead with my initial idea of putting up two stories – one the standard 'humane' one while keeping this sci-fi one. Ive noticed that 'humane' stories always make it through cuts – judges love em.

Office is killing.

The Generation

This is an India based post. If you have not been in India for the past so many years (25+) you might not get half the nostalgia and wonder. But that's the point. My generation would.
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I generally hear my contemporaries talk about the present generation of people as the 'lucky ones'. This is the generation, they say, which has got it all from the beginning – colour TV, 24X7 radio, internet, open economy, free hand with choice of career, free access to money and innumerable other things. This is the generation that apparently has it all. Do you remember wanting to listen to a certain rock band as a kid? OK, not rock, but any song. Well, I had to go hound my parents for a cassette of look for friends with the cassette, manage to scrape together the Rs80 or so required (a princely sum) and meanwhile try to locate a shop which has that music. Compare that with the ipod toting present youngsters who will be listening to the most eclectic collection ever – and all thanks to a click of the mouse. Its almost unfair.

I remember spending hours in a library, knowing all author and book names, for reference and then photocopying that or even copying it out, making handwritten notes, with various colours and underlining. Today? I just search. Fingertips and the world is mine. Even if Wikipedia is not enough, there are other places specialised to answer the most abstract of my, and anyone's questions. Darn! Why dint I have this as a kid? Why did I have to beg and promise to be a good girl and then get a monthly subscription to a magazine of choice? Or save up from my years pocket money and then buy that book? Today I just download all that! Writing a report is so simple – we just search the net and put in some pictures and voila! one has a first class professional looking report, even if its for a Class 7 mid term submission.
But then, I dont feel too bad.

I dont feel bad that the present generation has so much technology. They have mobile phones and smses, Dang it! All we had were our vocal chords and lung power. If we had to meet someone at a crowded place, we had to know a common spot, and have synchronised watches. The result was highly crowded paanwallah shops and card shops, with groups of teenagers waiting for their friends to arrive – outside the movie theater or shopping arcade. Not anymore. Today the teenagers just wander inside and let their frnds know which shop they are in by a phone call. The mobile phone is an extension of their arm. Lucky! say so many. I doubt it.

You see, I dont really mind the teenagers and younger people in this country getting so much, so easily. Yes, at some level it is frustrating to think of the hardships we had to undergo for the simple things – even mailing a pen pal (does the pen pal concept exist anymore?). But essentially, we had and are having Fun.

Some people say the generation before us had it good. the 80's were the era to be if you like classical Rock. Heck, if you like music, that was the time the industry exploded. The beginning of pop along with the maturation of rock. The 70s were the Flower Children era! Some go ahead and say, hey our parents had it easy. Their jobs were secure, their lives were less complicated.

I dont care.

I love my generation. I think we had it perfect. This is what life should be like. So much to learn, explore, live through!

I dont care about Generation X or Y or Z or A. That is for the US. For me, it is the generation born in late 70s and early 80s that have it good. Me included.
We lived through a childhood of simplicity – of meagre wants and abundant imagination. A time when playing with your freinds was a daily occurrence, out on mud and open spaces. And it was our imagination. When the videogames arrived, boy, did they arrive! Who in the WORLD can forget Super Mario?! What do the other generations have to say to that? And to PacMan and to Contra.

When we started of on becoming pre-teens (gosh! who even knew pre-teens then!)television landed in full force. There was this brand new medium to learn, explore and assimilate! Moving Pictures indeed. We saw liberalisation. We have seen the power of money – because there was a time when it was darn more precious than it is now. My generation has seen computers change from things of mystery to palmtops. In school there was a 'computer room' which had 6-10 computers and we were allowed to enter it only with special permission – the only room in school which had cooling air conditioner.

Things did not stop evolving when we entered college. Mobile phones were launched. Huge hunks of plastic. these probably weighed a kilo each, and cost a fortune – Rs 16 per minute for incoming!! O_O And today? Hah! We scoff at mobile sets which weigh more than a few hundred grams, are thicker than a finger and can do everything except probably cook and wash for you. Call charges are at probably their lowest ever – incoming free and outgoing a nominal Re1 per minute, lesser if you are in the same state or the person is in your CUG. Sure, the youngsters have it all from the beginning. but we saw it evolve. We have fun remembering the big red phone in the drawing room where you booked “trunk calls” to people in other cities and could hear the bored board lady jutt in sometimes.

Remember telegram? Sure you do. And syllabus included 'how to send Money Order' – because it was a real occurrence. No bank-to-bank intraday money transfer then dearie, it was all a tedious process! Letter writing had protocol, because it was not about a 'subject line' and 'body'. It was about how to address and sign off. I remember how relieved I was when finally it was allowed that every single thing in a letter could be written left-aligned thanks to the computer. Dont know what Im talking about? You have to be born in the early 80's to know that!

There has been a change of such magnitude that if one transposes a person from 1985 to 2008 via a time machine, they would seriously appreciate their Sci-Fi. The teleporters may not be here, but telecommunication sure is. And guess what? We saw it happen!

As kids fun was about who had the best mental imagination. Of ringing neighbour's door bells in the afternoon and hiding so they wont find us. Of birthday parties at home, with a cake and lots of friends. The toys I had never left their shelf in my room. Today its about who has the most toys and games. If its not beyblades, its PS3. Nobody races for fun anymore. Its serious sport.
Competition has seen a jump unprecedented. Children are children no longer. They are pressurised from the time they are born to be genius and different enough to make a mark amongst all this information and knowledge all around. They mature faster. The communication media have ensured that people have to strive harder to be known.

Today when I am in the competition area – of working - I see Im in the safe haven. Ive had my share of fun while studying – never really cared about grades except in an abstract manner, played like hell till before the day of exams, etc – and am workign to the hilt, just like its supposed to be.
I see the poor guys born a decade after me. Everything is old for them. There is no newness, no boundary to what they have. The internet? yawn, they can pull off anything on it if they want to. They were born with it. There was never a time in their lives when they dint know what a home theatre system was, or one where the house dint have a PC. They are so jaded that they push the frontiers. And there is nothing beyond that.

To us the frontiers are new, it can never get old. Even when we become 50 and the internet does not evolve, we will find something of interest and fun in it – its our nature. Heck! we can get interested even by the existence of a tattoo! Todays generation. Well, they are bored by 10 minutes of extreme sports, they will be interested inasmuch there is something new on the net. the same old thing? No way.

And so I say we have it good. We have been there when it mattered the most. We are on the edge of the wave. We've seen it grow, we've seen it crash and merge into the sea. What can be more thrilling than that? My grandparents saw sea change like that on another level – they saw freedom and life before it. That can be more than most lifetimes can experience. I think our lifetimes come a close second. I am comfortable reading books – on paper and on screen. I saw the libraries change. A change from black and white photographs to number of pixels per square inch. A shift from Lisa Ray walking the main road in a towel for Bombay Dyeing to models wearing (next to) nothing on prime time TV. I remember looking wonderingly at the flying fingers of typists and Ive seen that profession die. Ive seen shorthand and have wondered at those symbols. Ive seen a time when a flight from Delhi to Calcutta was a big deal and when staying in a different part of India really meant Far. And I certainly remember the first family car. I remember all that and I treasure today. I remember when the only do-it-yourself kit available was a stupid stitching one and everything else had to be made form scratch – and hence more valuable. When carpentry meant sharp edges and tetanus shots. I remember the importance of that one paragraph that would go at the bottom of my mothers letter to my grandparents, and the number of drafts and thoughts involved in that, because it would last forever in their drawers. So far from the light seconds of communication now. And then I value and wonder. I have seen History in the Making. Literally. How many can say that?

So much change, development, growth, fall. A move from Olde world into one Fiction is made of. And its barely been more than 25 yrs. The journey has just begun. I am a real part of Changing India. Hoo Boy! Am I excited to see the coming 50 years!