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SUMMERS'2002 @IIMB - BEYOND LEARNING
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Prologue
I woke up on a dreary afternoon, my head still reeling
from the shenanigans of the night before. The Bangalore sun was suddenly not pleasant anymore.
The corridors wore a deserted look and the closed Mess symbolized grim times ahead. Summers had
arrived at IIMB. The euphoria of getting placed in Company X and the gloom of getting rejected
by Company Y had long subsided. The moment of truth now stared all of us in our face. And that
afternoon, the vision of the future that crept in through my sleepy eyes was not very
encouraging. It was as if time had come to a standstill. The butterfly(Titlee) , which
regularly flitted above us, was no longer to be seen. And the absence of Sanju Baba
(no new films of the deadly Dutt was scheduled for release) compounded matters.
By all accounts, I reckoned, it was going to be a long and dreadful summers
End of Prologue
They trickled into IIMB slowly � in singles, in pairs, in triplets and in all sort of possible
combinations. And before the first week of summers was over, IIMB was bubbling with people all
over again. The dreary afternoon was erased from the confines of memory forever. The sun was
still at its fierce best but the heat seemed bearable. The butterflies reappeared, flitting above
us in their own capricious ways. And the absence of Sanju Baba (as explained earlier) was made
up by a host of new stars (and starlets) in the horizon (of the Hindi film industry). Summers
2002 in IIMB had taken off in all its grandeur.
Alexander Graham Bell would have been pleased. His invention had long ago changed man�s destiny.
I watched it now, ensconced in the steps of A-Base (d), changing fortunes in IIMB. There is more
to everything than the eye perceives. Yet I had never in my wildest thoughts imagined that the
dreary looking booth would occupy such a position of pre-eminence in the scheme of things. The
telephone booth graduated from being a mere utility service to becoming the fulcrum around which
the foundation for the good times at Summers 2002 were laid. There were introductions and
re-introductions. People enquired about friends and their friend�s friends. As the idea caught
on, the queues grew. Making a call was no longer important. It was the EXPERIENCE that mattered.
And people did everything to prolong that experience. Value for Money had never had a better
example.
And then there were other minor changes, which reflected the mood around me. The Guru dashed up
the stairs, brushed past me and hurriedly changed the track in his system. Even as I tried to
ascribe some rationality to his behavior, a lilting female voice, expressing gratitude for some
onerous task, floated past me. And in response to that ethereal voice, the Guru emerged from his
room , all smiles. It was then that the realization sunk in that I was one of the very few
incompetent people who had failed to capitalize on the market opportunities. Whoever said that
opportunities don�t present themselves was totally off the mark.
Had it not been for Bacchus I would have been shattered. Thankfully the Old Monk was always
there. And then there was GG. He brought me some solace with his company after the Guru had
meandered from his chosen path. GG, clad in his Kurta and jeans, represented all that I had
internalized about IIMB, pre-summers. Of course, I always wondered about the immaculately
pressed, chic and span �kurta�. Until one fine night, I was left all alone with the Old Monk
again. The magic of the �Kurta� had worked. And I was left cursing my incompetence all over.
Summers 2002 was not working out for me at all.
It did not take time for the calculating IIMBian mind to figure out the utility of parties during
summers. KG was never so enthusiastic about anything. But enthusiasm needs support and support
translates into operational details. And finally I figured myself out in the jigsaw puzzle that
Summers was fast turning out to be.
I first saw her in one of those �arranged� parties. There was an inviting gleam in her eyes and
a mysterious smile highlighted her face as she gracefully swayed to the rhythm of the music.
Lolita in another form, I thought. Not really. But she was close. She danced away to glory,
inadvertently demanding and getting attention from everybody and anybody. She was charmingly
graceful in her steps and hardly missed a beat. I stood dumbstruck, in my usual little corner,
experiencing the magic that her form radiated. Summers suddenly held meaning for me once more.
All good things come to an end and so was it with Summers 2002. I met quite a number of great
people during those two months, reminiscences of which lie in the various yahoo ids and business
cards that I have gathered. But the overriding memory remains that of �her�. I was convinced
that she was the closest I could come to revisiting Lolita. My Bangkok trip, immediately after
summers, proved me wrong. But then that�s another story.
Epilogue
They say that Change is the spice of life. Summers 2002, with all its memories, comes close to
validating that statement. For some the change has been minimal. For others it has been
monumental. Ask KG
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