Stories from the Archives

An old post and an old story. One from my archives... also one of my favourites.

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Daily Heroes
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The man removed the ID card from his pocket and stuffed it into the front pocket of his leather satchel, as he paused before ringing the doorbell. It had been a long day at work and though not exactly unexpected, he was quite unprepared for the 3 foot high bundle of limitless energy who hurled himself at him in a smothering hug.
"Hi Pa", said the bundle.
He quickly recovered from the stagger due to the extra weight around his neck and managed a huge grin. He saw his wife grinning in the background.
"A cup of coffee coming right up", she said.

"I went to play in Krishna's house today. And do you know what he said??"
He smiled. The tiredness disappeared a little. He had no clue as to what Krishna would have told his son but after all that enthusiasm, he had to ask.

"No. What did Krishna tell you?"
"He said that when his Father works, he gets to catch bad people and for doing that he got a lot of prizes. Is that true?"
"Ummm... well Krishna's father works for the police. When he does that, he does get to catch bad people. I suppose it is true."
"Ohhh."
He sat down at the table, deposited his cup on the coaster and stretched his aching muscles lazily. His son meanwhile clambered on top of the table, sending his coffee cup to the edge, teetering perilously.

"So Appa", he started again, "what do you do at work everyday?"
He thought about that for a minute as his wife called out, "Keep it simple", from the bedroom. He took a large swig from his cup of coffee as his wife came out and joined them at the table, with the smile still writ large on her lips.
He extricated his wallet from his back pocket, took out a ten rupee note and handed it over to his son.
"Suppose you have some money with you and you want to give it to Krishna.."
"Why??"
"...just suppose you want to give it to Krishna but Krishna does not stay 2 houses away. Krishna stays in another country somewhere across all the oceans. It will take you a long time to go and give it him. So then you come to me. I can take this money from you and before you can count to 10, I can transfer or send the money to him across all the oceans. It is so quick, it is almost like magic. That is what I do."
It seemed to work and his son looked suitably awestruck.
"Let me tell Krishna", said his son, as he ran to the telephone.

"So that's all you do for 8 hours a day??" said his wife in mock surprise.
"Well you asked me to keep it simple and I think that was a very impressive explanation!" he said.
He leaned over and kissed her on the forehead as he picked up his coffee cup and walked over with her to the balcony. In the background they could hear their son on the telephone, evidently chatting with Krishna.
"...and my father is a magician", they heard him say.
"He can make something vanish from here and put it in any country across all the oceans..."

He heard the phone being replaced in its cradle. He frowned, as his wife laughed, clutching her stomach.
"Yes I'd have to agree. That was an impressive explanation" she said, still laughing.
"Maybe I should run my job description by him again", he said, draining the last of his coffee.
"Some other time. For today, you can be a magician."

She ruffled his hair and walked away, mirth, laughter and the distinctive twinkle still in her eyes.
He looked up at the twinkling sky and wrapped his arms around himself as a sudden gust of wind blew through the trees. The new magician said a quick prayer of thanks for his family and the job that gave him a life of luxury, before he turned around and headed back inside to freshen up before dinner.

Changes? What Changes?

I'm now slap bang in the middle of P2 exams. What this means is that, after Wednesday, I'd have finished 40% of my MBA.
Strangely enough I don't quite feel that accomplished. I don't feel particularly changed or enlightened. Physically, I've been sleep deprived and have probably lost a few pounds (not to mention the several thousands of Euros spent on tuition) but mentally I just feel a wee bit exhausted.

Maybe buried under the surface, under the exhaustion, the lack of sleep and under skin thickened by numerous assignments, case studies and Saturday morning review sessions lies undetected, additional intelligence; a subterraneous reserve pool of mental faculties that have been accumulating for the last 4 months.

Maybe when I go back home I'll hear people say that I seem different and somehow more mature and confident. Maybe I'll be able to debate the merits of a certain financial policy or the demerits of a financial pay package which consist of stock options. Maybe I'm a little more institutionalized than I think.

Or maybe not. Will I know?

On Wednesday, after my last exam and after the 40th percent of my MBA ends, I head home for a much deserved break. I will take an Indian Airlines flight from Changi airport to let my body catch up to where my mind already is.

And maybe when I get home and I meet friends, family and would-be family, when I go forth and freak out, eat rich food, drink my usual drinks, have my usual fun... maybe then I'll know.

The Learning Curve

This is just another poem. I'm trying to document my life here in a set of poems, marking down every momentous event with another few lines.
This was after the first set of exams, the P1 (period 1) exams, which ended end-February.

All you need to know before reading this is that we here follow relative grading with all scores plotted along a statistical Z-curve. The further you are away from the mean score, the higher chance of exam failure.

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The plane touched down, we got to school
Our year here had begun
Before we knew it, we were sucked right in
To the ebb and flow of P1

It didn't take long to get overwhelmed
With all that coursework around
For several weeks, case studies whizzed by
And made the predominant sound

Then one fine day everything suddenly changed
A presentation was made
About P1 exams and what we'd have to score
To try and make the grade

There was something in it about a graph of marks
Was pretty complicated to see
To keep it simple, we'll leave out the stats
And simply call it Z

From that day on we slept a little less
We tossed and turned in bed
We dreamt no longer of sunny beaches
Z-curves were in our head

At school though, normal life resumed
We wore weird clothes and dashed
Distracted motorists stared open mouthed, mid-ride
And promptly swerved and crashed

We all felt that it made perfect sense
That the amounts of motorist swerve
And the amount of damage in any accident
Could be plotted on a Z-curve

The number of surfers, the number of bikinis
The height of waves in Bali
All this info could be represented
By drawing up a Z

In 8 weekends, if we'd got 8 phone numbers
If 8 girls asked us to call
The curve told us if we'd succeed
Or likely take a fall

When trying out for summer internship
Sending several resume
The curve told us the company's response
And just what they'd likely say

The Z-curve became an almost mythical creature
With several purposes to serve
Seemingly unrelated, independent, one-off phenomena
Were being attributed to the curve

The Z-curve wielded enormous power
Good friends made us see red
We argued that they simply studied too hard
And reduced the Z-curve spread

Everybody was talking about this blasted curve
It really made us sick
With this additional peer pressure on us
How on earth could we really tick?

We slogged through the last intense weeks
We battled through accounts
Our daily worries about the silly curve
Grew in exponential amounts

How we navigated through the intense exams
I really do not know
I realize that about the Z-curve stats
I wanna hear nothing more

I will not repeat the words ‘Z-curve’
I'll simply refer to it as *bleep*
Like its a swear word on a family TV channel
Censored for a ratings sweep

“Enough! No more!” my brain yells out
My mind is tired and dim
This *bleep* has occupied my mind’s vacant spaces
And overflowed the brim

I have just one final thing to tell you all
To try and ease my mental pain
I'll knock your bleeping head off
If you mention *bleep* to me again

A Valentine's Day Ditty

Its been a while since I last posted as the excessive amount of b-school work ovewhelmed.
This post is a silly little poem written on Valentine's Day for someone on campus.

Its part of the orientation process. A group of 3 guys are assigned a woman to woo and take out to dinner. Its a way to get to know the class better. Wonderful experience and I'd say it works.

So here's presenting...

A Ditty for Ms. DeSmedt

Let us talk about a girl with a megawatt smile
Let us talk about this girl we've met
The girl who makes our hearts perform somersaults
The girl called Hilke De Smedt

You may wonder why we are so crazy about her
You may wonder why she casts such a spell
The emotions we experience are so incredibly divine
And yet so difficult to tell

Do we tell you that she laughs, and then a rainbow appears?
And wet weather takes a break
That just a single glance from right across the room
Can cause many a man heartache

Or that we love it when she throws her hair back and laughs
We're in delirium when she strikes a pose
When she grins a flash lights up in her eyes
And slight crinkles appear on her nose

Do we tell you how she looks so comfortable?
In class or at a Saturday night bash
Or even with an enormous “Tweety” bird on her head
At the annual INSEAD Dash

Do we need to tell you how she's physically perfect?
Can you not see that with your own eyes?
We wish she would just come over and talk to us
Just 3 love struck INSEAD guys

If she spoke to us we'd feel overwhelming joy
It is a feeling that we have missed
She could come over and say just about anything
Even just read a grocery list

Love isn't about being too proud to reveal it
Pride comes before a fall
Love is about being brave about your feelings
And shouting it out to all

Love isn't about treachery or dishonesty
Love isn't about deceit or perfidy
Love is about telling you, Hilke, that we think you're gorgeous
And that your love would make us giddy

I'm about to wind up Ma Belle Cherie
But I have just a couple of requests more
Please acquiesce to join us for dinner tonight and
Give us another thing to remember this day for

The venue is set, its at "La Braceria"
Perhaps some wine and some splendid food
Perhaps concerto violinists will play you a tune
To keep you in the mood

So on this day of love, Oh Multicultural maiden
Let us serenade you with many a line
But give our wounded and aching hearts some comfort
And finally, please, please be our Valentine