Abhinav Charan (MBA 2013-14): Consulting (Schlumberger Business Consulting)

Sprechen Sie Deutsch?

My boss suggested that I refrain from checking official e-mail during my 25 day vacation. Much against his suggestion, I was mentally prepared to stay in touch and continue working remotely. As luck would have it, I forgot my VPN and lost motivation to contact the Helpdesk in Houston. Instead I decided to walk out and soak in the charm of a European summer.


Waiting for a taxi outside Frankfurt airport, I reflected on the current political and economic mayhem that has rocked the continent. The Greek crisis, the German hegemony, the British isolation and the Spanish totter, to name a few, speak volumes about the disparity of economic affairs and political motivations in a radius of less than 1600 miles from Berlin. This is not necessarily a new story. While Greece is in turmoil and tasting an absolute dog’s breakfast, the United Kingdom is celebrating the Queen’s Diamond Jubilee and Olympics with unmatched fanfare and pomp. As the new French President Francoise Hollande advocates growth and more spending, the German Chancellor Angela Merkel is married to economic austerity and reduction in spending. As the stalemate continues, the Spanish struggle with their abysmal economic ennui whilst the former Italian premier Berlusconi suggests that Italy may say ‘ciao’ to the European Union. Meanwhile, the United States watches this Shakespearean drama unfold from a balcony seat across the Atlantic, wondering if the merchants of Venice got lost in the socio-economic tempest in the last decade. Quite understandably, this is not the case of ‘much ado about nothing’.


History has often defined European relationships in the current and future context. The legacy of the extreme past lives till the present day. Whilst some glorify it, some deny it. The creation of the European Union was an attempt to thwart history with political and economic unity. When the United Kingdom decided to stay out of the Euro zone, it was the first sign of a foundation which was dodgy. It may be argued in the present context, the Euro is more of a political problem than an economic one. When someone in the Greek parliament exclaims that they do not want ‘Nazi money’, it stinks with a history no one wants to own. The stereotypical image of the hard working, efficient German overshadows the hedonistic man from the Lower Countries happy with his siesta and sangria. The history may sound gruesome and bloody but it has to be remembered that, history- good or bad, has a lot of do with the present and the future. That constant juggle and struggle, economic, social or political, has often been productive. To quote from the film - The Third Man (1949) "...in Italy for 30 years under the Borgias they had warfare, terror, murder, and bloodshed, but they produced Michelangelo, Leonardo da Vinci, and the Renaissance. In Switzerland they had brotherly love - they had 500 years of democracy and peace, and what did that produce? The cuckoo clock."


A classic Frankfurt evening began with a walk down the Zeil, apfelwein and radler for drinks, and then mingling with the locals at the countless bars and eateries across the city. Looking for a place to watch Deutschland play Portugal tonight in the Euro Cup encounter, we befriended some locals who were more than happy to have us join them for a giant screening at the Commerzbank Arena close to the airport. We walked into the stadium with weiss bier and brezl in our hands, along with more than 20,000 German supporters with black, red and gold colours shining across the fanatic crowd. I had heard that ever since the World Cup was held in Germany in 2006, the people had re-discovered a new sense of patriotism that they could flaunt unlike their previous generations. Within minutes, I witnessed that new found sense of pride and perhaps more, when the 20,000 strong chanted something that sent a chill down my spine: “Sieg Sieg”. Just another word separated 1942 with 2012. As the most prosperous and powerful economy in Europe, the Fatherland had proved that it is truly blessed in more ways than one. Needless to mention, the Germans won and it was time to celebrate.


We got on the efficient U-Bahn to travel to the Hauptbahnhof and then walk to the neighbouring area of Sachsenhausen to get a taste of the steamy Frankfurt nightlife. To the uninitiated, this can be quite an eye-popping experience with the organised structure of the red light district. The openness of the European way of the life, - a far cry from the phoney way this subject is dealt with across the pond, the lack of brouhaha around all this, and the feeling that it was ‘okay’ to walk around this place with a bunch of chaps and not be judged for it, was quite surreal and nice. Of course, there was doener kebab and weissbier for the afters. But then there is more to Germany than all this and Munich was only a train ride away on a cheap rail Schoenewochende (Happy Weekend) pass.


The glory and history of Munich presents a stark contrast to the modernity and panache that Frankfurt commands. The awesomeness of being in Bavaria/Bayern region is quite apparent. With the imposing grandeur of Marienplatz, the stunning architecture of the Frauenkirche, the hustle and bustle of Englischgarten, the bacchanalian spirit of Hofbrauhaus, the stunning palaces and structures – Munich is the quintessential untainted mascot of the Fatherland, its history, culture, cuisine and other paraphernalia. But not far from the glory lies the dark past in the form of a concentration camp memorial at Dachau. Less than an hour by train, this place is the symbol of a time period and its excesses. Without taking a deep dive into the history of the place, it can be easily concluded that humankind is capable of such sinister designs that it questions our existence on the planet.


The next day was reserved for the lovely town of Salzburg in Austria. Nestled in the mountains and with the Sound of Music floating in the air, this place is truly made of dreams where you live in the castles and the fairies serve to your whims and fancies. The Festung Hohensalzburg is a splendiferous castle running on the Moenchberg range. The view from the top is as idyllic, scenic, romantic and as breathtaking as it can get. Perhaps I should have composed this piece there. Being Mozart’s birth place it would have sounded better. But sometimes, one needs to stop being a shutterbug, put the camera in the bag and just sink into what’s around you. That’s Salzburg for you. Perhaps, that’s Europe for you. Almost lost in another time period. Preserved, pure and pristine. Perhaps that causes pandemonium amongst the banks and economic circles. But in my opinion for a continent that has lived through the Black Plague and Two World Wars, this economic crisis will just be another page in its cherished history books. In the meantime, I need to learn more German.


Ja, ich spreche Deutsch. Es ist wunderbar!

Spring Awakening

This has been the best of times and the worst of times. While acquisitions galore here at Direct Energy and Centrica's profits have gone ballistic, the world witnessed a quasi nuclear disaster in Japan. Of course for share hawks, this is purported as a good time to purchase the plummeted TEPCO (Tokyo Electric Power Company) stocks, given that with the healing effect of time, the electrical monopoly in Japan will spring back to its feet. Energy, by definition, is a funny industry. Not to say that Investment Banking or Hollywood isn’t funny but Goliaths of the energy industry can be humbled in no time. This effervescent nature saw BP get on its knees and many others go delinquent. DE’s growth is North America is an indicator of someone else’s fall. English, by definition, is a funny language. As they say: To rob Peter and pay Paul.
As I pen these words sitting at my desk and watching the panoramic view from my 12th floor office, it appears to me as if spring has a profound calming effect on people’s mind and business. The Second World War and the WTC episodes began on a September morning. Most nuclear events have surfaced in winter months. While logic defies such thinking as momentary lapse of reason, the poet’s eye sees otherwise. We are past the mire of Wikileaks, the Deepwater Horizon Oilspill, the Copiapó Mining Accident, eruptions of Eyjafjallajökull (The Iceland eruptions that cooled European skies for a while), the unrest in the Arab world, the bombing in Libya and finally, we’re pleasantly close to a joyous royal wedding in the City of Westminster. How times, news and energy prices change! The spring of hope has perhaps taken over the winter of despair.
The key word missing here so far has been – Sustainability. The primary target of a firm is not to make profits. Instead, it is to remain in business, which equates to Sustainability. Similarly, no one questions the Chinese or Indian growth. What people questions is sustainability of their growth? This is tough test to qualify since organisations or countries in question need to stand the test of time. But how do we measure sustainability or should the question be- What kind of sustainability are we aiming at? Energy sustainability refers to switching the focus to alternatives or renewable sources. For example, Vestas- an energy firm based in Denmark- is wholly working on championing Wind Energy across the world. Their vision sees wind placed alongside oil. The other kind of sustainability is, if this vision or rather their mission is sustainable? Their profits plummeted not long ago when their massive pitch in Britain fell on the nuclear sword. It’s another story that the events in Japan have made decision makers look at nuclear energy with jaundiced eyes. Basically, what goes round comes around.
Perhaps, sustainability is all about evolving with change whilst sticking to fundamental core values. For example, Direct Energy can still remain ‘Simple, Friendly and Direct’ whilst we fancy our chances across the various renewable and ever so willing non-renewable sources. But there is a lot more than this as you may have realised. Unfortunately, that is beyond the scope of a blog and more fitting for another platform.
This has been the best of times and the worst of times. But that has always been the case, isn’t it?

Spring greetings,
The Wordsmith

The Whole Nine Yards

The American summer of 2010 is now an archive locked in my Facebook album and the mellifluous autumn is gradually yet persistently dragging us to what may be a rather long dark winter. One often has to wonder why our literary predecessors attributed darkness to winter, specially when there is copious amount of snow around.

To say that the the passage of time has been eventful is an understatement. Only this morning did the Tea flavoured G.O.P whip the Democrats and storm their way into the Congress and besieged America's Nobel Laureate President's already humongous task of managing his country and many others too. On the positive note, for a country where many citizens subscribe to the dual principle of not paying taxes and individual gun rights, this result stands as a testimony to the fastidious minds of voters and increasing polarisation.

Without delving into psephology, one can derive that politics can be a fluctuating and sensitive business. It is the art of making seemingly revolutionary promises and hardly living up to them. But the unknown citizen falls prey to the same bullet in no man's land. Of course, the way the common man is exploited varies in style and intensity depending on the terrain. While China suffocates the press and dissemination of information in the name of national interest, India's young Turks fool a billion people with a flashy dynastic surname. The surname you see at the New Delhi airport, in the history books, on the geography maps, inside the Parliament and outside of it as well. For a country with a literacy rate of sixty odd percentage, such sycophancy dating back to the stone ages is no bloody surprise.

Too much of bad blood. I'd rather prefer Bad Romance with Lady Gaga. Yes, she is not the sexiest prima donna in tinsel town but she sings and sings rather well. More than a billion views on YouTube is close to the best awards designed by humankind. But I hear she is not in the business of sleeping with strangers like our mate in Manchester - Wayne Rooney. For someone who spent close to $100 for a Rooney world cup t-shirt and flashed it in an American bar with pride in an England vs USA World Cup engagement, it was shameful. The week long drama and stand off with the revered Sir Alex Fergusson exposed the mercenary in him. And a poor mercenary too. I have vivid memory of watching Rooney, Lampard & Co. getting hacked by the Germans at Bloemfontein earlier this year. First, it was the War hysteria traditionally created by the English media. 'France gets kicked out really early. Italy does not even count. The Americans arrive late to the round of action and the English are left at the mercy of the Germans.' And the merciless Germans made sure that there was no need for England to worry about any explosive transition in the fabric of time and space. For the Germans, it was a routine victory and for the English an opportunity to re-define time and space. But Churchill's finest hour is history now. Not completely though. The pub where I was watching the English demise was invaded by German fans gloriously singing 'Deutschland über alles' - a song that is now banned in the Fatherland. And as Angela Merkel aptly remarked, 'multikulti' must have terribly failed in Germany. I learnt that in Pittsburgh.

But not everything in this world can be that bad. Sitting at Sharp Edge pub on a typical Friday evening discussing the World Cup with my mates, I had a jolly good chap approach me and ask me in a strong Mancunian accent if I watched cricket. Sort of, yes! And then he went to remark: " Can I just say that I have seen God play at Old Trafford. He was more brilliant than words can describe. Watching him was a privilege and a dream come true." This God in blue is Sachin Tendulkar. Such is the beauty of sport and the charisma of true blue sportsmanship. Or may be the effect of globalisation! To hear praises about an Indian cricketer from an Englishman whilst chatting with my American mates in Pennsylvania. Or better still, walking on the bylanes of Soho in London in the wee hours of the morning with my new Finnish acquaintance when a Pakistani pimp tries to hustle me for some floozy action with a 'Made in China' stamp. Sounds sterling, darling. Aye!

Meanwhile, Pittsburgh weather forecasts indicate snowy action earlier and longer than expected. Suggestions to lighten the dark winter are welcome. I'll do the Facebook bit. Just don't mention the summer. Today's beautiful moments are tomorrow's wonderful memories. Cheers and Happy Diwali.


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xNpmMAR30VM

BAPTISM BY SNOW

In the year of our Lord 2010
February 5. Notably a Friday.

4:20 PM:
Much against the advise of my best friend, I feel the urge to drive almost 300 miles north west to Detroit, Michigan to meet an old mate who is in the US for the weekend. I must admit that I have butterflies in my stomach. I have shared my travel itinerary with the experienced road warriors at my work place and they reckon that this is a leaky and dodgy boat to cross the ocean. I check the weather radar and I fully understand a that a snowstorm of unparalleled magnitude is striking SW Pennsylvania amongst other places. That this disastrous blizzard will spread its fangs to Ohio and Michigan is unknown to me.

4:30 PM:
I misuse the uncertainty to my advantage and turn on the ignition of my Toyota Corolla 2002. I'm still undecided if I should take the 30 minute drive back home to Shadyside or pull out my GPS gizmo for an address in Detroit. I look at the brand new FM transmitter than I bought this afternoon at Walmart. I look at my industrial boots specially worn for the trip. I feel warm in my new American Eagle olive green jacket and I watch outside my windshield and it seems that all the snow from the Arctic and Antarctic are competing to hit the Pittsburgh ground with unequivocal ferocity. This is by far threatening to be the most nasty snowfall I can imagine at 40 degrees North latitude.

4:35 PM:
I munch on a Hershey's cream and cookies and feel bad about Cadbury's being bought by Kraft as my car gets heated and its time to get on the drive gear.

4:45 PM:
I am driving with the stupid thought that I might beat the storm as I head away from Pittsburgh. Contrary to my belief, it only gets worse. There is an instant and growing accumulation of snow on the pavement. The winds are strong enough to change the course of the vehicle and the snow has already made me lie at the mercy of treacherous skids, spins and may be break dance.

5:00 PM:
I am driving, rather, driving very cautiously past Beaver county and thinking if a U-turn will be a good option. Practically speaking, yes it will. I call my mate in Detroit and give him a brief on the weather extremes. He leaves it on me to make a decision.

5: 15 PM:
Only fools and horses will want to continue in this weather. I would like to think that I'm adventurous, resilient and brave. But perhaps, at this stage, these don't matter. I belong to first category (fools and horses) and I don't know which one of the two is more apt.

6:00 PM:
I am scared and on the ball. At the ropes. Holding to my steering wheel as if it were controlling my very existence and my legs are very sharp on the brakes. I cannot see any lanes, since the snow invasion has taken over the road. The damage is lock, stock and barrel.

6:30 PM:
Visibility ranges from a few meters to may be a kilometer. I should be talking in miles though. The snow has been howling producing sounds best suited for horror films. I discover that I'm among the handful of brave men and women who are driving on the road. For miles I see nothing except darkness and snow hitting the car at break neck speed. My windshield wiper has been working tirelessly.

7:00 PM:
I realise that I am driving in Ohio. Conditions have worsened. I have to stop the car since visibility is near zero as snow storm and wind gusts have made me question my survival chances. I put on a blue tooth device and answer phone calls from two friends who try to help me navigate and provide succour.

7: 30 PM:
I am driving with great difficulty and risk at nearly 35 miles per hour in the middle of the three lane road. The lanes markings are covered in heaps of snow and are invisible. So I don't know which lane my car is on. I encounter black ice and I try to apply brakes as a truck in front of me suddenly screeches to a halt. As I apply brakes, my vehicle skids and starts spinning to the right and I figure that I can't control it. I am now almost at a 180 degree to my original orientation. I find a 18 wheel truck almost at a mile away, heading towards to me. At good speed. Sweet mother o god. That's almost like death and me vis-a-vis. The truck shows no signs of deviating from its route to avoid a head on collision. I am close to getting bonneted. I gain control of my vehicle, turn on my high beam flash lights and accelerate towards the approaching truck at an angle. I accelerate to almost 45 miles per hour within seconds to avoid the monster truck hitting me. The monster and my car head past each other with a hairline separation and I almost ram into a massive mound of snow (nearly 4 feet) accumulated on a road divider. My car comes to a halt. The temperature is well below zero. Almost minus twenty degrees (-20 C) Celsius and I can feel sweat trickling down my forehead and spine. I take off my driving gloves, wipe out the grime on my eye brows and wonder about the mess I am in.
I turn on the two way blinkers and walk out of the car to inspect any damage.

7: 45 PM: I whisper a little prayer for some luck and I recall that I am supposed to live till 86. That's what many astrologers have told me. I take solace in the fact and evoke my spirits to get me going.As I slowly drive in the middle of the road, two huge trucks (18 wheels each) drive past me, on the either side of my car. I am certain that their speed was four times that of my car and they were engaged in a race. I felt dwarfed when the two of them simultaneously drove past on either side of the car. I am at a loss of words.

8: 15 PM:
I'm sipping some sort of coffee at a Starbucks in a plaza close to Cleveland, Ohio. I have to visit the loo multiple times for god knows what. After two large cups of coffee, the road warrior in me drags me back to my car. Once out of the plaza, I witness the tremendous pandemonium. The blinding snow dust is piercing into my eyes, so I have to cover them using my palm and run towards my car through a pile of snow. A lady, ahead of me, trips down as she tried to run towards her car. I try to lift her from the heap and she is more than thankful. I rush towards my car, try to clean my windshields using my handkerchief as fast as I can and rush to the petrol station to fill my tank to the gunwales.

9:50 PM:
As I am still reeling under the snow and trying not to die (reaching Detroit is the secondary objective), I answer a phone call and that affects my control on the vehicle and it skids again only to get hit into a divider, which is of course, covered with heaps of snow. I try to start again but I find that my vehicle is almost stuck into the snow rut. I come out of the car and try to push it whilst its on the neutral gear. I look helpless and pale as the winds and snow destroy the geography of my bare head and face. I try to look around for help. Not a soul. Not a passing vehicle. I feel like a small boat lost in the dark high seas without a glimmer of hope. I hit the bloody snow mound with my shoes in frustration. My hands feel numb and cold beyond human tolerance. I get back to my act again, with renewed energy. I try lifting the car from the bonnet side but its futile. I try pushing it with a lot of muscular force as I try to invoke the heavens, skies and celestial planets and beseech them for help. I crush my teeth against each other, my muscles go taut, I feel the nerves in my neck and forearms will pop out any moment as the west wind and snow continue to blast my face. I realise that all my force has gone down the drain and no work has been done. I take a deep breath and then I see a vehicle driving past and I try waving but he doesn't want to stop. I decide to launch one final effort before dial-ling 911. This time, I push the the vehicle in fits and starts instead of continuous application of force. The vehicle starts budging and my intensity and adrenalin burst makes the car change its stoic attitude. I reckon I'm ready for the next lap.

11:00 PM:
I must be in Michigan now since I read the speed limit is 70 mph. It begins to dawn on me that the worst might be over. I feel the intensity of the blizzard has died down and I see landscapes around me that are not painted in white. I begin to feel confident. I can see signs of human civilisation as they gradually appear. I turn off the windshield wiper after it got into action many hours ago.

11:45- Midnight:
I am within Detroit city limits. I am driving at nearly 65-70 mph, almost with a vengeance. The roads are clean, clear and lighted. Snow flakes are flying off my vehicle, though not completely. My screens have a layer of hard salt on it.

12:30 AM:
My car finally halts at the Westin Hotel, Detroit Metropolitan Airport. My mate is waiting there with few of his friends who know that I'm coming. He unmistakably spots my car with a lot of snow inflicted injuries on it. The speedometer finally reads zero. By now, I have seen nearly one dozen accidents in a window of 300 miles.

I walk out. Light-hearted . Relieved and glad to be alive. This is not baptism by fire. It was the baptism by snow.

Amen

The fringe benefits of break ups & cacophony of thoughts from a beautiful mind

Love is a smoke made from the fumes of sighs. Being purged, a fire sparkling in lovers' eyes. Being vexed, a sea nourished with loving tears What is it else? A madness most discreet A choking gall, and a preserving sweet.

It would be nothing short of heresy on my part if I did not attribute the originality of the above verse to my literary master and commander- William Shakespeare. If your sex is male and you do not quite follow the wisdom above, please consult a standard paraphrasing guidebook. However, if you belong to the 'fairer sex', you know my e-mail address. Before you judge me for a pervert, please understand that I graduated from a school where 'sex kills - come to CMU and live forever.'

Probably, a break up is worse than the 'life and death' I just spoke about. A break-up may be defined as personal situation where you experience the most excruciating sentimental pain over uncertain and varying period of time caused solely by the action or inaction of another individual who was probably paid more attention than he or she deserved. And I shall humbly agree with you that this is not an all inclusive definition, since this is not always the case. It is almost impossible to trap the nuances of the most complex human nature within the confines of the English language. Some people have tried. An exemplary performance is right at the top of this page.

But a break up can be sometimes beautifully refreshing too! That morning, I did not have to get up early and punch her 'good morning' in the one hundred and eleventh language on the text message screen. Unlike yesterday, I wasn't concerned if the cologne and deodorant smelt sexy and swanky. I could willingly choose to postpone my visit to Supercuts by a few months. My shirt and trousers needn't be Mark and Spencer. I could easily get into the not so bad clothing I once bought for a pittance at a Calcutta footpath. I shall prefer not to talk about the other garments like socks, handkerchiefs, underwear or other paraphernalia since any dedicated effort towards decreasing its standards is quite invisible to all human eyes. That said, I am not irritated if the new text message on the phone is not from her and I'm thrilled if a sweet voice on my phone is from a wrong number. I do not have to twitch and twist by the minute and impatiently wait for the evening when I shall see her at the French restaurant. By the way, this weekend, I can finally use the launderette and watch war movies that do not have scenes like this http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=841ld1D6eW8

It is evening now and I can join my mates for a few Guinness down at the pub. We can talk about all the girls known and unknown, famous and infamous, blonde and brunette, Asian and European, single and not so single, Monica Lewinsky and Princess Diana, hot and cool, married and unmarried, young and not so young, witches and bitches, NSA and LTR, pierced and tattooed, shaken and stirred, pink iphone and blackberry, martini and single malt, till we're too drunk to hear that the pub will be shutting down in a few minutes. I am no longer the lover boy cum Bill no mates and can sleep like a baby.

Whilst he is sleeping, she is silently awake. In the middle of the night, she remembers about how they met and how the ground beneath her feet gradually slipped. Not to forget that in the fullness of time, her feet hardly touched the ground as she was the princess of his dreams. Will she forget the summer at the beach, the endless conversations, romantic evenings or the last Valentine's day when he almost colonised the moon in her name? The little unknown things she did, the distant destiny she fancied, the winter of despair and the spring of joy - she cherished all the seasons under the sun as long as he was there. The shadow of parting hurt and togetherness was tantamount to unparalleled joy. And then by the caprice of fate or some nuclear explosion on a distant planet, he is lying half dead on his bed miles away from the unattended tear on her rosy cheek. Shakespeare is probably feeling good. The romantic tragedies of life have evolved more character in his characters who have danced to the tune of his Elizabethan ink.

The spring of joy is over. The summer days are long gone. Fall is here and love is in the air. Nature braces itself to meet the harsh winter when the sparrow will have to bleed itself against a thorn on a snowy night to keep the rose red and alive. The matrix of creation looks down upon the human civilisation where love actually still exists. Love, love and love alone caused King Edward to lose his throne!

In the course of her pursuit for excellence, she has reached sun lit outlandish uplands where the three rivers converge to symbolise the unity of body, mind and soul. The monotony of her disposition is constantly challenged by the pleasant thoughts of someone new who might touch her life and add life to it again. The spark kindles hope. But the thought of her past violently interferes with the train of her thoughts. Her frail and pale figure reconciles with the history and reality and then hurries across the quad with dusty books on metaphysics. Suddenly, a new feeling blossoms in her. She cherishes all of those things that never happened to her. She is nonchalant about her success and her failure. The pursuit of happiness is now more exciting since she feels it’s fabulous if dreams fail. Her heart races up the stairs and she is panting. If the boy in her bedroom poster actually came to life, it would be a total loss since the dream would turn into reality. That reality isn't the pursuit of her life. She is in the pursuit of her dreams which should last forever and keep her going. By now, she is intense, fast and furious as she turns her hand to measure the treacherous time. Those extra ten pounds fall off her hands and she almost crashes into someone. They gaze at each other. He has the fire in his eyes. He is far from perfect but he too looks like a dreamer. She has finally met someone she is looking for - a dreamer.

Meanwhile, our friend lying half dead after pints of Irish lager is mending his oars. The hangover is long gone and the distant sea rises and salutes his spirits as he prepares himself to embark on these wanton waves to meet his dreams. That skimpily clad lady stands in the middle of the vast ocean wearing tiger skin with saffron dyed long hair that almost touches her knees. Her eyes are wild and Atlantic blue and she exudes Arctic freshness flavoured with musk. She holds a silver trident in her hand and a rose (yes, the same one saturated the sparrow's blood) in the other. He can almost see her in the middle of storm. That nasty break up has been left behind in the narrow alleys of forgetfulness and the future lies ahead. It might take him days before he gets to his new love but his spirit lies undeterred. The cold temperature and the stormy waves remind him of what he heard on BBC America this morning.

"It’s a rather cold day in Pittsburgh today. The mercury is at fifty eight and the barometric levels are sharply going down. Quite surprisingly, mild tremors may be expected with some decent reading on the Richter. However mild they may be, they will not be so inconsequential. Expect some precipitation as well but that will clear up the skies and it just might be perfectly alright when the sun goes down."

Amen.

WORDS OF WISODM

The summer of 2009 has been rather mellow. While the world is reeling with the recession cacophony, top institutions have been churning out promising graduates who have dared to walk out of their hallowed portals under the dark clouds of unemployment and uncertainty but not before they have heard the commencement speeches delivered by the glitterati and the pundits of the real world. Most of the commencement speeches this year gyrated around ‘being recession- resistant and upbeat’ and have invariably been ‘words of wisdom’ heard by students and scholars after years of toil and labour. These sermons have not only played the role of parting messges but have also been a cynosure in the education and media square. These speeches have hundreds of thousands of hits on Youtube and they definitely are a timeless treasure.

‘Stay hungry. Stay foolish’. Rings any bells? These resounding words echoed first in the lawns of Stanford University on a sunny commencement day in 2005 and then the word spread across the educational landscape of the planet. It was a person of the stature no less than Steve Jobs who gave the graduating class the lesson of life woven around three stories and one deep message to which he claimed no originality. His fifteen minute speech has more than one million hits on Youtube and he shares this ‘millionaire’ platform with the likes of the legendary ‘Last Lecture’ professor – Randy Pausch. The Carnegie Mellon computer science professor’s surprise appearance at the 2008 commencement ceremony, where he shared the dais with Al Gore, was witnesses by thousands at the Gesling Stadium and later watched by millions using the prowess of Information Technology. Those eternal words about ‘achieving your childhood dreams’ still reverberate in the minds and hearts of many people who may or may not have met the man who was once denied admission to Carnegie Mellon but perseverance brought him back to the same place where he created history in the midst of adversity.

Harvard has interestingly invited speakers from across the pond in the last few years. Last year Harvard was charmed by the magical words of JK Rowling four years after Sacha Baron Cohen a.k.a. Ali G appeared in his gangsta regalia to teach the class of 2004 a lesson or two about ghetto culture. Definitely taking the road less travelled, Ali G laced his speech with sex, drugs and scatological functioning. On the other end of the spectrum Rowling mesmerized her audience with her classical and posh accent in true spirit of Harry Potter. She recalled the picture of the 21 year old lass she was at her inconsequential graduation and twenty one years hence, here she was delivering words to arguably the most coveted graduation ceremony in the world. The journey of her life where she dealt with poignant issues like poverty, breakup, extended failure and the discovery of the harsh world through the eyes of her job at Amnesty International were carefully marked in her speech titled ‘The Fringe Benefits of Failure, and the Importance of Imagination’. Of course, life was never the same again for many and especially for her, after she had met Harry Potter. Her crafty speech had a class of intellectual humour with sentences like, ‘There is an expiry date on blaming your parents for steering you in the wrong direction’ and sharp messages like, ‘You might never fail on the scale I did. Unless you live so cautiously that you might not have lived at all, in which case, you failed by default’.

Not to forget the splendid Eric Schmidt (CEO Google) commencement address I attended as a graduating student from the Class of 2009 at Carnegie Mellon. He expressed his special admiration for the parents of the students and suggested that the students may actually listen to them, now that they have graduated. ‘We got our news from newspapers, your generation gets it from blogs and tweets, and for those of you who don’t know, that’s not what you hear in zoos... We just didn’t tell anyone about our most embarrassing moments, you record them and post them to Facebook and YouTube every day’ reflected the oracle’s passion and inspiration towards technology that drives the world today. His repeated mention of Facebook, Twitter and his ‘favourite search engine’ enthralled the crowd largely composed of students with an above average geeky index. His words oozed optimism as he spoke about the amazing resilience of the human spirit’- ‘it’s what got us through World War I, World War II and it will get us through our current challenges just fine.’

Last but not the least, his last words underscored the two fundamental facets of life – ‘always remember to be nice to your parents and true to your school’.

Abhinav Charan