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The room was getting cold, as the glistering moisture was making its way into the room. The room service guy came with a steaming cup of tea and closed the window. I was getting worried about the guy downstairs but thought of relishing the hot cup of tea in the biting cold winter morning. I could see some images floating in the cup full of tea. I removed the skin of cream from the tea and the images became vivid….
The conference room acting as the venue for Group discussion had 10 vibrant candidates seated around the oval shaped center table. Mr. Swain entered the room with a hurried gesture along with two assistants. They were to be the observant and would decide the fate of many of the candidates. It would be later discovered that Mr. Swain was a faculty and loved to fry the empty brains of us with human non understandable accounting practices.
The GD was made open by Mr. Swain’s gesture of hand along with a firm” START” as if flagging off a horse race. The room silent till now turned uproarious with every candidate trying to make a point and no one willing to listen. I opened my mouth to make very logical statement, very relevant to the topic of discussion but not finding any taker, choose to shut up my mouth and against all my wishes started nodding to all talkers. Finding me at the listening end many articulate speakers started addressing me. I did the best…kept listening and agreeing. Mr. Swain had very tough time calling off the discussion as all wanted to make an extra point and score a point.
My listening skills paid off. I was chosen for the final round…. Interview. “A fool can ask more than a wise can answer” someone told. I tried my best to be wise and answered all questions hurled at me by a few wise men who gave mysterious smiles for every answer. The encounter lasted for 30 minutes and finally I felt as if freed by hijackers.
A tall and well built fellow candidate engrossed in him in the makeshift waiting area was seated all alone. I approached him and broke a conversation. He belonged to my home state Andhra and we stuck the same cord. He was Dinesh Wadhwa and loved to be called Dinow. The results were to be published after 7 days and we were free birds. We walked all the way chatting and reached Tony’s dhaba outside the main gate. It was a decent budget restaurant and had an appearance very contrary to a dhaba. Plastic chairs all around with some plastic centre tables in haphazard positions. Tony’s was humming with students with lot of fun and frolic all around. We pulled two chairs and ordered for tea. Dinow lit a cigarette and offered one to me. Tea arrived soon which tasted like beef-tea. Dinow smoked like a steam engine, one after another. Dinow was running a business in New Delhi and had made up his mind for management studies on the insistence of his parents. The civil war within him could be felt by his ideas about anything which was quite contrary to popular thinking.
Dinow was to stay back till the results were announced, I went ahead to meet a distant aunt of mine. Dinow called me up on the seventh day to communicate that I was chosen and so was he. He ranked first and I made it first from the bottom. The list displayed on the board was soon subjected to severe cruelty by several aspirants who perhaps could not get through. I and Dinow ordered for tea at Tony’s while we lit out cigarettes.
“Bang”…I was shaken out; the room service guy announced that breakfast was ready. I bottomed up the tea which had turned cold now and hurried towards the bathroom. The last glimpse was a vivid entry to the “Imperial School of Management, Danagarh” through the main gate…..which separated the school and Tony’s dhaba.
The room was getting cold, as the glistering moisture was making its way into the room. The room service guy came with a steaming cup of tea and closed the window. I was getting worried about the guy downstairs but thought of relishing the hot cup of tea in the biting cold winter morning. I could see some images floating in the cup full of tea. I removed the skin of cream from the tea and the images became vivid….
The conference room acting as the venue for Group discussion had 10 vibrant candidates seated around the oval shaped center table. Mr. Swain entered the room with a hurried gesture along with two assistants. They were to be the observant and would decide the fate of many of the candidates. It would be later discovered that Mr. Swain was a faculty and loved to fry the empty brains of us with human non understandable accounting practices.
The GD was made open by Mr. Swain’s gesture of hand along with a firm” START” as if flagging off a horse race. The room silent till now turned uproarious with every candidate trying to make a point and no one willing to listen. I opened my mouth to make very logical statement, very relevant to the topic of discussion but not finding any taker, choose to shut up my mouth and against all my wishes started nodding to all talkers. Finding me at the listening end many articulate speakers started addressing me. I did the best…kept listening and agreeing. Mr. Swain had very tough time calling off the discussion as all wanted to make an extra point and score a point.
My listening skills paid off. I was chosen for the final round…. Interview. “A fool can ask more than a wise can answer” someone told. I tried my best to be wise and answered all questions hurled at me by a few wise men who gave mysterious smiles for every answer. The encounter lasted for 30 minutes and finally I felt as if freed by hijackers.
A tall and well built fellow candidate engrossed in him in the makeshift waiting area was seated all alone. I approached him and broke a conversation. He belonged to my home state Andhra and we stuck the same cord. He was Dinesh Wadhwa and loved to be called Dinow. The results were to be published after 7 days and we were free birds. We walked all the way chatting and reached Tony’s dhaba outside the main gate. It was a decent budget restaurant and had an appearance very contrary to a dhaba. Plastic chairs all around with some plastic centre tables in haphazard positions. Tony’s was humming with students with lot of fun and frolic all around. We pulled two chairs and ordered for tea. Dinow lit a cigarette and offered one to me. Tea arrived soon which tasted like beef-tea. Dinow smoked like a steam engine, one after another. Dinow was running a business in New Delhi and had made up his mind for management studies on the insistence of his parents. The civil war within him could be felt by his ideas about anything which was quite contrary to popular thinking.
Dinow was to stay back till the results were announced, I went ahead to meet a distant aunt of mine. Dinow called me up on the seventh day to communicate that I was chosen and so was he. He ranked first and I made it first from the bottom. The list displayed on the board was soon subjected to severe cruelty by several aspirants who perhaps could not get through. I and Dinow ordered for tea at Tony’s while we lit out cigarettes.
“Bang”…I was shaken out; the room service guy announced that breakfast was ready. I bottomed up the tea which had turned cold now and hurried towards the bathroom. The last glimpse was a vivid entry to the “Imperial School of Management, Danagarh” through the main gate…..which separated the school and Tony’s dhaba.
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