The Madras Mail

I’m in Jamshedpur now, and should probably change my blog title to ‘The Jamshedpur Mail’, but fuck it, I have deep roots in Chennai, dum, thanni, and such, so ‘The Madras Mail’ it will remain.

The past week has been a whirlwind of activity. I spent my last few days in Chennai, doing stuff I wouldn’t do normally, like drinking more at the shady stall whilst smoking a cigarette, kicking SJ’s ass (well, I do that normally) at the beach, and drinking a lot of bad, bad beer (Vorion 6000 to be exact). I listened patiently to the words of wisdom from the elders which involved – ketta pazhakkam-la katthukathe Vicky, poi nalla padi, cigarette pudikkatha, thanni adikkatha, and other equally ennobling virtues which I don’t posses and and probably never will. And the oh-so-important, ‘your entire life and future will depend on how you study, study for 20 hours a day, sacrifice food, sleep and other unimportant things, focus on your grades and grades alone’. Since, I’ve been listening to this rant from the 10th grade, it was sort of lost on me. 7 entrance exams, and an equal number of interviews later, XLRI decided to try me, and I’m here in Room 120 of the Father Enright Men’s Residence.

Jamshedpur is a beautiful city by itself, it’s home to one of the largest steel plants in Asia, but the effects are rarely felt. After Chennai, the very large Jubilee Park with its trees, fountains and lakes, clean roads, and sidewalks, is kind of a shock. The auto drivers scare the shit outta me, but after the thugs in Chennai, the friendly, maniacal, Hindi-speaking guy is a welcome change. I just close my eyes and say haan to whatever he says and silently mutter the only Hindi word I know, ‘bhenchod, drive carefully!!!’

I have an orientation programme tomorrow morning, and it’s my first day at one of India’s best and probably oldest business school.