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Wondering back home
I have always been the wondering type. You know the type who move through life in a state of “hypnotic somnambulism,”unaware of everything including themselves? Years of training, cajoling, advice and guidance from parents, husband, relatives and well wishers have taught me to project a very alert and agile image, but scratch the surface and out comes the goggle-eyed wondering creature from underneath.
It is this sense of wonderment that hits me every time I come to ISB.
It has been nine months and my regular once-in-six-weeks visits to the place has not taken away any of the wonders I felt at the first time. Every time, I drive down, the vast expanse of green, the screams of the peacocks and the sound of cicadas give me a strange sense of romance – of anticipation and of expectations of a magic that is going to unravel in front of my eyes.
No, I am not talking about the well-crafted curriculum, the fabulous teachers and the state of the art infrastructureof the Institute. That is my logic for having chosen the place.My love for ISB goes beyond all these offering and has more to do with how I feel just being here.
It’s a getaway for me. Just being in my room at the hostel, studying and listening to music or walking around in the green campus gives me the “me time” I so often desperately need.
It is touchingto see the awe in the eyes of PGP students, “Wow! You have been working for 17 years!” As if I am the first person to have walked on moon.
It is equally touching to see the affection in the eyes of my septuagenarian professors, almost saying – “bachche hain, nadaanhain, seekhjayenge.” It has been quite sometime since anyone thought that way about me.
And the gang! A motley group of people from different places, professions and academic backgrounds, all unified by one common quality of “eccentricity.”I have never met a more colourful bunch.
Its funny how most of my intellectual discussions with friends have happened in the dining hall, while all of us were salivating over some awesome dessert.I have never known the way to a man’s heart but I am pretty convinced that the way to a thinking human being’s head is through his stomach.
TheLRC is a place thatfills me up with the awe and a sense of magic that I used to experience on tiptoeing into my father’s study with its rows of books, journals, magazines and DVDs.Did Aladdin feel as overwhelmed as I did on entering the cave of wonders?
Well, it is more than fun and games here. We also havequizzes, tests, assignments and other harsh realities of life. It’s almost uncanny, how irrespective of the subject, the preparation timeor the complexity of the assignment, we are almost always flying by the seat of our pants and barely managing to land.
Thinking about ISB, I am reminded of John Denver’s “Perhaps Love”
Perhaps love is like a resting place
A shelter from the storm
It exists to give you comfort
It is there to keep you warm
And in those times of trouble
When you are most alone
The memory of love will bring you home…
I know sooner than latter the course will end and my frequent visits to ISB will stop. I will be back again, in the boardroom, being my alert, agile and decisive self. Something tells me even on those days, in the hustle and bustle of corporate madness, I will still hear the Peacock scream and the cool breeze blowing through the trees. In times of crises, like a beacon of light the face of my favorite professorwill appear before me. I will still remember the camaraderie, the fun and frolic, the peace and serenity, the love and friendship and I WILL BE HOME AGAIN…
- Bhaswati Ramanujam