Hello all,

I know that off late, MadMag has not been coming out on the first of every month. Well, I guess that I got a bit lazy. I shall make sure that it shall not happen again.

Dear seniors, I guess that this is the last time that I am going to send you a copy of the Mag from the college. From the next time onwards, I shall send a copy to the alternate id that you have provided. I shall not take this to be a goodbye. This is a new beginning, a new start. And I hope that MadMag will be as much a port of your life as it was whilst you were here. I shall not say goodbye, I say au revoir, that is till we meet again. You shall be missed.

This month, we have a mixed affair.

We have the person who is the reason that I sit here sending this out to you all, Nisha Daniel Vikram, the sole reason that MadMag exists. I am proud that she took time off from her busy schedule to sit and write me a article. I hope that this is not the last time that she will write for MadMag sometime in the future.

Anirban takes time from being in room 13 (for the benefit of the juniors this is the placement room) to give an article. Well you have to read it to know it…

Phi is his usual self. What he says makes sense. Through this medium on the behalf of the college, I invite him to be a contributor even though he is not in college. If he takes this offer, then we shall have food for thought every time.

Till I get back to you…

~Aditya

This is no goodbye... Nisha

I need music when I write. It helps me shut out all external noise, giving my thought process an unobstructed stretch of concentration. So I was listening to a song that was oft-repeated on the IIM-B corridors all through my summers. All of a sudden, I was transported back to Bannerghatta, the lush greenery, my co-interns, our post dinner strolls.. such is the effect of music- it stirs a queer sense of nostalgia.

There are periods in one’s life when there is an obsession with a particular piece of music, toggling the same on iTunes or WinAmp. Playing it over and over until your blood moves in rhythm and the words stamp deep into your consciousness, to emerge suddenly, to sprout life at the least propitious moments. Would our dancers forget ‘Rang De Basanti’? Imagine rushing past a busy street to be home before your kids are back and you hear ‘Masti ki Paatshala’……..

What, da? Its ok.. Ganesh anna, do double chai… Phrases, conversations which would be forgotten in new environments and refined by the demands of corporate etiquette. ‘Poor infra’, ‘lab sux’, ‘attendance’, TNG’ though negatively connoted are etched in our minds. Bits of gossip, people ‘seeing’ each other, (un)official announcements, campus blah and the more recent ‘wedding surprises’.

I hope Mad Mag has covered every bit of it- the highs and lows of the last year. You could always mail in your thoughts to nisha.vikram@gmail.com. Unlike the songs, the phrases and the conversations which sprout suddenly; Madmag is stamped deep into my consciousness. I want to keep this song alive.

Summer Blues - Anirban Basu

I had given up writing. Once a passion, later it amounted to lying to oneself. Of course, once too many I had not adhered to my own feelings and beliefs. Writing made me hate myself. But today, as I stand at the threshold of a new morning, writing seems to be the best and perhaps the only way to give a shape to my feelings. The following piece of text may eventually not be meaningful, but when was I known to make sense anyways?

Really seems like yesterday when I had walked into the SIBM building for the first time, promising to put behind old memories and mistakes and make the most of god’s new lease of life to me (read SIBM call). Little did I know about my ignorance towards the relentless devil called ‘time’. Today I am supposedly half an MBA and soon, would be walking out of the hallowed portals with new promises to myself and with yet another new lease of life (read some unlucky company). I guess I am at a constant duel with the almighty to test each other’s perseverance – can He throw more opportunities at me than what I can successfully waste, or will I end up a winner by exhausting his repertoire of blessings?

Leaving aside God, my tryst with people too, has been worth a mention. Truly, life has been like a series of train journeys. I have met many a new fellow passenger everyday. Just when life looked great with all the perfect ingredients and amazing friends as garnishing, we reached our respective destinations and parted ways. And when we refused to, the train finally ran out of steam and forced us to disembark. SIBM has been one such wonderful journey thus far. Just another few days and I will bid adieu to many more passengers. I will miss you - Seniors! And especially, MY S-PAT! It is funny to see seniors in tears in anticipation of a new world and even funnier to watch seniors making promises to stay in touch forever. Perhaps they are unaware of the concept of ‘train journeys’. I would like to believe they would do a much better job than me at keeping promises.

I see batch mates gradually trickling out of the city, each to their respective hometown or project location. Bear hugs are rampant everywhere as friends part ways for two months of hard work and making efforts at shaping a career. Luckily, this train journey still has a year to reach its culmination. Despite having failed to keep up to promises myself, I wish I would stay in touch with the friends I have made here, forever. I don’t want this train journey to end. We almost ensured that I guess, with the batch promising to garner a record number of backlogs in the second semester examinations (I have been strictly instructed by my editor not to write anything that may have a detrimental effect on the incoming batch, but couldn’t help telling you this). But I also see the ‘system’ conspiring against me. The ‘system’ makes it very difficult to get backlogs, but very easy to clear them! I guess some people just don’t want others to spend more time together. The batch’s effort may just go down the drain, thanks again to the ‘system’.

Not having written freely for so long and the subsequent rust in my pen are finally catching up with me. As this edition marks the farewell to Nisha - the brain behind MadMag, I wish her all the best for a rollicking future. And finally, to my incoming juniors – the ‘train’ is waiting, come aboard a wonderful journey called SIBM!

This is your life

The last article that I submit while I’m in college. Decided to quote the great Tyler Durden (refer to ‘Fight Club’). Here’s a collection of his gems. Though based in reality, his words are a bit hard hitting and will make a certain category of people very squeamish. Bye bye Sunshine.

This is your life; good to the last drop.
Doesn’t get any better than this.
This is your life and its ending one minute at a time.
This isn’t a seminar, this ain’t a weekend retreat.
Where you are now you can’t even imagine what the bottom would be like.
Only after disaster can we be resurrected; its only after that you’ve lost everything are you free to do anything.
Nothing is static, everything is appalling.
Everything is falling apart.

You are not a beautiful and unique snowflake.
You are the same decaying organic matter as everything else.
We are all a parts of the same compost heap; we’re the all singing, all dancing crap of the world.

You are not your bank account.
You are not the clothes you wear.
You are not the contents of your wallet.
You are not your bowel cancer.
You are not your latte.
You are not the car you drive.
You are not your fucking khakis.

You have to give up.
You have to realize that someday you will die. Until you know that, you are useless.

I say let me never be complete.
I say may I never be content.
I say deliver me from Swedish furniture.
I say deliver me from clever art.
I say deliver me from clear skin and perfect teeth.
I say you have to give up.
I say evolve and let the chips fall where they may.

De Phi