Indian Divorcee/Widow Vs. Foreigner

So Y and I watched "Water" a few days back. It is a well made movie, and very disturbing to say the least. I guess what makes it worse is the knowledge that it is true, and it happens in India, so it is very close to the heart. The rendezvousing between John Abraham and Lisa Ray takes away from the seriousness of the movie. However, the 9 year old's predicament is shocking enough to make me believe that practice of any religion that prescribes such treatment should be deemed a criminal offense.

The optimist in me was happy that this was 60 years ago, and this does not happen in India anymore. However, the realist in me reminded me that while it may not happen on that scale, it still happens all the time in India. Throw out some circles in Mumbai, Delhi and Bangalore, and it is still a sad existence if you are widow in India. While Y knows that India is weird, she was obviously appalled at the sad state of women (being considered unlucky, shunned by the society in general, etc) simply because their husbands die.

I don't know how we got there, but Y asked what would my parents think of me marrying a widow. I had never thought of this before, but I was quite sure that my parents would not be thrilled with the idea. She then asked what if I were to marry a divorced woman. Equally bad would be my guess. My parents (like the rest of Indian parents) think that divorce is such a taboo. I can't imagine them ever wanting me to marry a divorced woman. Then Y threw out the curve ball - Would my parents prefer that I marry a Indian divorcee/widow or a foreigner?

To be honest, this was a question that had never crossed my mind. Yes, they would never want me to marry an Indian divorcee/widow, but then they would never want me to marry a foreigner either. But if they had to choose the lesser of two devils, what would they pick? I really had no idea - I did not even want to venture a guess.

So, I decided to do the obvious - just ask them. Obviously, I needed to caveat that this was just hypothetical. I did not want my mom losing her sleep thinking that I was romancing a divorcee or a widow. Since I was not expecting one way or the other, I can't really say that their answers surprised me. Without a moment's hesitation, they replied that they would prefer me marrying a foreigner over an Indian divorcee/widow.

I really don't know the reason behind their prejudice (to me this is prejudice against divorcees/widows). I am sure some of it has to do with social norms, and all that good stuff. My parents did however say something that would surprise many people. They added that between an Indian divorcee and an Indian widow, they would prefer that I marry the widow.

This, to me atleast, has some logic. Most people would not pick the widow, as they would say consider that a widow brings back luck (I don't say this, the retards in India do). However, since my parents are not superstitious at all, that makes no difference to them. But I can clearly see their aversion to a divorced woman. Lets assume a normal divorce here - atleast normal by American standards. Guy and girl get married, differences spring up in the marriage, they can't reconcile and decide to split up after a year or two. In such a case, my parents would say that the woman is logically partially responsible for the divorce. And their biggest concern (justified or not) would be that having gone down that road once, she may prefer another divorce rather than try and work on the marriage.

Either way, it was an interesting question that Y had thrown out. Even though I got my parents' answer, I am not sure there is a side that I can say that most Indian parents will take. I asked a friend of mine, and she said that her parents would take the Indian divorcee/widower over the foreigner anyday.

Thoughts?

Why I Hate Orkut

No, you guessed it wrong. It's not because of women posting "Hi I Priya. Wud you lik to do fransip with me?" on my scrap book. Though, I am sure that there are women out there who have stopped using Orkut precisely because of (male) morons like this. There are enough posts out there on the various kind of "fransip" offers, so I won't go into detail here.

I hate Orkut because it brings me face to face (or profile to profile) with people from my past life. Now don't get me wrong. There are certainly a few friends that I am glad to have found on Orkut. My best friend from boarding school from 16 years ago being one of them. Unfortunately, I can't think of any more at the time.

However, I can think of several people who I would have much rather not talked to for the rest of my life. Its not that I don't like these people. I will admit that it is kinda neat to see all your high school classmates from years ago, and see what they are upto. And at various points of life, I may even have wondered about some of them, and thought what they are upto. But now being in touch with some of these people, I am convinced that I would have been better off without Orkut. Let me give you a few examples.

A classmate from school that I did not get alongwith. He found me on Orkut, and scraps me like we have been best friends all our lives. To take it a step further, he suggested that I meet up with him when I was in India. I fail to understand the logic behind it. He knows he is wasting his time (and mine), and I know it too. Yet, he continues to ask me about what is new in my life. Nothing dude - don't you get it?

Another classmate from school who found me one day and was a little "too friendly". I don't remember her, have no recollection of her, and I told her this. She insists that we were great friends in school, and continues to scrap me with abandon. She recently told me that she got a new belly button ring, and it looks great. Er...too much information, don't you think?

Few months ago, this girl from school scrapped me that she had a crush on me in school. Great - I am flattered, but er....what can I do about it? She then proceeded to tell me that she has been in love with me ever since and she broke up with her last boyfriend because of me. Considering that we last saw each other in about 10 years ago when we were both 15, a little weird, right? She then proceeds to tell me that I wouldn't understand her. She has a point there...I only understand normal people.

The icing on the cake was when my girlfriend from school found me a few weeks ago. It had been a bad break up, and I had a guilty conscience (won't go into details here). So, when she found me, it was the perfect opportunity to apologize and get it over with. Except that she replied to my apology with - "You have changed a lot. You have put on sooo much weight". Now just because I am no longer the scrawny severly underweight kid I was 6 years ago, there is no reason to go talk about my weight. I am finally at the point where people don't ask me if I am sick every time they see me. And here is my ex telling me that I have become fat. I am sure that all of you (wait, there is someone reading this besides me, right?) would suggest that I write the same thing back to her. I will not lie - the thought did cross me my mind. But my parents raised me the right way (or so they told me).

These are a few people that I certainly could have done without talking to. The saving grace is that I live far enough where I won't ever have to meet these people again. There are several people who have added me, or scrapped me once, but past that, we have nothing to talk about. Dude - we didn't have anything in common when we were in the same class. Now, after 10 years, when we work in different fields, live in different countries, what can I talk to you about? And yet people scrap me - "Dude - you don't ever scrap me. You don't even have time to talk to friends??"

WTF?

P.S. While not yet, I will have the same problem with facebook in a few years.

About a Friend

This is about my friend. My best friend from college. Lets call him A. The friend that Y says that I would marry if I were a girl. She is wrong, but that is not the point here.

A was one of the first people I met in college. A was on the golf team, and my golf coach introduced me to him on my second or third day in the US. And he was arguably one of the most annoying people I had ever met. He hated everyone and everything, and made sure that everyone around him knew about it all the time.

I roomed with him on my first golf trip, and it was terrible. We disagreed on every single thing. It was only the beginning. Over the next year, I saw A at his worst. His wild temper, his complete disrespect for everything, and his constant jeering at his teammates. Over that year, I also learned about A's past. A had gotten involved with drugs in his final year of high school. After high school, he did not want to go to college, and he delivered chinese food for two years. Ironice, as A was the son of two very successful people - both with doctoral degrees from top universities in the world. When he got tired of lazing around, he finally enrolled in college, but he could not let go of his drugs. His grades were pathetic, and he was on academic probation. And then it happened.

One Friday night, he overdosed, and the lethal combination of alcohol and drugs nearly killed him. He found himself in the hospital surrounded by his concerned parents. As he lay on the hospital bed, he decided that this had gone on enough. He needed to change himself. And so he did.

I met A a few months after this. He had stopped taking drugs, and he was pulling his grades up. He was more focused on life. And while he still was far from a pleasant person, people told me that he was trying.

Over the next few years, I saw the most amazing transition in a person. By the end of his sophomore year, A had clearly established himself as a stellar student. And although his people skills took time, he was getting there. He was much nicer, more tolerant and a thoughtful person. We had a few classes together, and we started to bond. We stopped ignoring each other on the golf course.

We studied together for some classes, and bounced ideas off each other our future plans. I urged him to take some Economics classes, and he added to my interest in Computer Science.

A graduated from college, and got accepted for a Masters degree at the top school in the nation in his field. He got a boatload of scholarships, and won some big international competitions. He graduated and went to work at a highly specialized boutique in Silicon Valley.

Though we now live on opposite coasts, we remain in close touch. I valued his perspective on my essays, and we often talk about quitting our jobs and purusing a dream. The dream of building a golf course. I am not a person who trusts easily, and hence always think about doing things on my own. However, I can see myself working with A.

I recently came to know that A helped out a guy we went to college with money for books. It may seem small, but it was a meaningful gesture. It is A's way of helping those less privileged than him.

I have often shared A's story with people. It is a story of strength, and determination. A story of change. Of bouncing back. Of learning from mistakes. It is not just about becoming better student or worker.

It is about becoming a better person!

If I could be anything...

I would be a surgeon. Yes, a doctor who operates on people. No, I am not going to withdraw my b-school applications, and take the MCAT. But if I could truly do anything I wanted, I would want to be a surgeon.

Being a doctor is one of those things that you want to do when you are a kid. You read about a doctor saving lives, and helping people, and you say to yourself that that is what you want to do when you grow up. However, growing up, all I wanted to do was to play golf for a living. And when I realized that I could not do that, I just found something that I was somewhat interested in, and where I would make solid money, a.ka. Wall Street.

I don't know when it is that I thought about being a surgeon. Not even sure why. My guess is that part of it has to do with the God complex. To me saving a person's life is as close as you can come to playing God. Not that I have any intention to be God. But to save a person's life would be pretty kool. Think about it - right now, when I look back at my day, I say, I sold ABC structured product to XYZ company, and made some $$. This certainly pales in comparison to to looking back, and thinking that I saved a guy's life. I saved someone's son, someone's husband, someone's father, someone's friend.

Come to think of it, how many of us live the dream that we envisioned as kids? I don't think anyone at the age of 12 wants to be a banker, or a trader. Or a C++ coder for that matter. Or work as a strategy consultant. Or manage a project. Or develop a trading system. Or sell one. Heck, as a 12 year old, I couldn't tell the difference between Wall Street and Ball Street. And yet, so many of us today do things that we never even wanted to do. We do jobs that we don't care about, but they get us the $$$. I read the most ironic article few months back - highly qualified doctors that end up working in healthcare banking or consulting - talk about the lure of money.

I have asked myself this a few times - why can I not be a suregon? It is not impossible, but there are several obstacles ahead. I would have to take pre-med classes, take the MCAT, go to med school, and study for 10+ years. I am not sure I have what it takes to be a surgeon - the commitment and the intelligence. Plus, leaving the $$ of Wall Street will certainly not be easy.

Maybe I should be thankful I have a job. And plus, the grass is always greener on the other side. I have a friend in med school, and he is constantly upset about the fact that he has ages to go before he will make anymore than than the minimum wage. He tells me that I should be happy to be making $$$.

Maybe he is right....

My Kellogg Interview

I had my Kellogg interview yesterday at a Starbucks not too far from my place. The interviewer got back to me a week after I contacted him, as he had been traveling, so I was pretty happy to just get it done at some point.

I hate interviewing at a Starbucks, but I guess once I get into the "zone" I forget where I am sitting. He showed up 20 minutes late, as his conference call went over, and apologized profusely. We talked for about 30 minutes, and the interview was very standard. He was Indian as well, and worked on Wall Street, so we had quite a fair bit in common.

The questions:

1) Tell me about yourself
2) Tell me about your current job and responsibilities - a couple of follow up questions on this
3) My long-term and short-term goals
4) Can you not reach your goals without a MBA?
5) Why Kellogg
6) My GMAT and GPA
7) Two questions about my extra curricular and volunteer activities

While I had sent him a copy of my resume, he did not have it on him. He had written down some information from my resume on a piece of paper, and wrote furiously all the time that I spoke.

I then asked him a few questions, and he gave candid answers. He graduated from Kellogg in 2003, when the economy was not doing so great, and he had been lucky to get the job that he did.

All in all, it was a pleasant experience. He told me to enjoy school, and we bid goodbye. Kellogg has already started releasing admit decisions, so it would be nice to hear from them sooner rather than later!

Such is Life!

Disclaimer: A long post.

I have been meaning to write this story for a while. It has been over a year that this happened, but I can still recall it well. I may not remember the details, but those details will not change the overall message.

I was going home after almost 2 years. However, it had not been long enough to make me forget the curse - that of sitting next to babies who cry the entire 20 hour flight back home. Hence, as I found myself sitting next to a young woman, I thanked my stars. However, it seems that I had thanked too soon, as I soon discovered that this young woman was also sobbing away to glory.

Not wanting to pry, I said nothing and began to read my book. She continued crying quietly, facing toward the window, in an attempt to conceal her despair. A good 30 minutes or so after we had been in the air, she wiped her tears, composed herself and said hello. As I saw her face, I saw nothing extraordinary. She was normal looking - there was nothing striking about her. Just another face in a sea of people. A face that I would forget as soon as I departed the plane.

We started talking about nothing in particular. Learned that she lived in Connecticut with her hubby and was going home to Calcutta. I was reading "The KiteRunner", and she said that she had been wanting to read it as well.

Soon they brought out drinks, and I asked for a beer, while she went for some white wine. As we got some more alcohol in our system, the conversation became a little more interesting. I learned that she used to work in the media industry in Delhi, and was recently married. I, as always, kept the discussion focused on her, revealing little besides frivolous details about myself.
As I jested with her that she could not even leave her husband for a few weeks without crying a bucket, she suddenly fell silent. Aware that I had touched a sensitive nerve, I apologized quickly. She said nothing, but I could see tears forming in her jet black eyes.

I kicked myself. She turned to the window again, but after a few minutes said that leaving her husband was not why she was crying. She said that it was due to her son. Over the course of the next hour, downing a few bottles of wine, she told me why she was crying.

When she was 20 years old, her parents had gotten her married. It was an arranged marriage. She had barely met the guy once. Her parents had decided that it was the right time for her, the guy was from a good family, and that was all that mattered. Things had been bad from the start. He was clearly not ready to get married yet. He was still in that phase where his only purpose was to have a good time. He spent the majority of his time hanging out with his friends while she twiddled her thumbs at home. Then they had a son.

It was the turning point of her life. She forgot all her grievances toward her life, and spent all her time caring for him. However, the responsibility of a child broke the camel's back, and her husband filed for divorce. She was only happy to get out the stifling marriage.

A couple years of staying at her parents' house drove her to desperation. She just could not spend her life living at her parent's place. She made the very difficult decision to leave her son behind with her parents, and moved to Delhi for work.

The change did her good. Although she terribly missed her son, the sense of achievement - her own apartment, a new car - helped heal some of the scars. One night at a friend's birthday party, she met this guy and romance blossomed. He worked overseas, and was gone after two weeks, but their relationship continued on the phone. She knew that the next step, a.k.a marriage full of perils - not only was she a divorcee, she also had a son. A divorce is still a taboo in India, and a child from a previous marriage only adds to it.

However, her worries were unneeded as he proposed to her after a few months of meeting her. His parents had been against it, and still were, but he had decided to follow his heart. At last, it seemed that things were finally heading in the right direction.

However, life had another unpleasant surprise for her. Her ex-husband had filed a petition in the court preventing her from taking the boy out of the country. It was not out of love, as in the past two years, he had barely seen his son (who was still staying with her mother) two times. It was out of pure spite - she had moved on in life, and he had not. He wanted to hurt her, and he had decided to do it in the nastiest way possible.

She had moved to the US with her husband, and was now engaged in a court battle to get her son to his new family. She had been back to India three times in the past one year, and each time the case had gotten murkier and murkier. The only saving grace was her new husband, who was determined to stand by her through it all.

The money and the emotional pain aside, her life in the US had been at a standstill. She had not started working, as she did not know when the court would schedule a hearing and she would have to rush back home. She was going home for yet another court hearing, and the hopelessness of the situation had overwhelmed her.

On one hand, was her new husband, who had been patient and understanding through all this, and on the other, was the man in her life, who refused to let her be happy. Such is life.

I don't know why she shared that story with me. To me it was a very personal story, and not something you would share with someone you met on a plane. I took her number, but forgot all about her in the excitement of going home. I don't even remember her face, or her name. But I hope that things will turn out right for her.

What is wrong with Indian Men?

One of my friends demanded the explanation from me yesterday as she tried to hold back her tears. Let me explain. Megan is an American who had been dating this Indian guy, Amit, for about 2 years. She is pursuing a graduate degree in some medical related field in the city, and he, as usual, is a techie. She is 27, and he is 30.

2 weeks ago, Amit announced that he is going to India for a couple of months to sort out a few things. Primarily to assess what are his opportunities like in the booming city of Bangalore. She was fine with it, except that he also mentioned that Megan should not wait for him. Megan was not quite sure of what to make of it. When she pressed him, Amit admitted that his parents have been wanting him to get married for a while, and they have a few girls lined for him to see when he goes home. He also added that he had always thought that he would marry an Indian.

She was shocked. In their two years of going out, Amit had never once mentioned anything of this sort. While there had been no firm commitments on either side, she had always assumed that unless they broke up, he would propose in the next year or so. She was certainly upset over the breakup. However, her main gripe was that was she was cheated. Amit may not have lied to her, but he certainly did not tell her the entire truth either. She had just been a temporary arrangement for him, a white girlfriend that he could tell his friends about while it came "time" for him to get married.

As she demanded that I explain his actions to her, I recalled that this was not the first time I was put in such a situation. I can remember at least two instances. An Asian friend of mine had dated an Indian guy for over 4 years, and he had told her one day that he cannot go against his parents' wishes. And another American friend of mine had dated this Indian guy for a few months and he dumped her over e-mail. His reason - his grandparents were going to be living with him for the next six months.

Being an Indian male, I certainly understand the psyche of Indian men and the pressure of the family that we all live under. Family ties mean more than anything else in India, and to marry a non-Indian is perhaps the fastest route to ostracize yourself from the society. However, in this age, where we continuously harp about the Mittal's, Nooyi's and Tata's exploits, don't you think it is time to make some other changes too?

P.S. Would love to know if others have similar experiences to share.

And the DING from Wharton!

So got a ding from Wharton. It is not a big deal, considering that it is a solid third (behind HBS and Stanford), and has some very talented people applying to it. What truly suprises me is that I did not even get an interview.

Each school has its own ideology of the interviewing process. Wharton is one of those that considers the interview as just one more data point, and interviews close to half of its class. Since about 7,000 people apply to the school every year, I find it difficult to believe that I don't even rank amongst the top 3,500 candidates.

All my colleagues and friends, several of them post HBS and Wharton, find it very strange too. My 3.9 GPA, 99 percentile GMAT and 3 years of Wall Street experience at top-tier investment bank should have hopefully merited me an interview. However, I do understand the process is very subjective, and there are a few factors that would work against me. The Indian male probably did not help me chances. And my work experience only being half of the average at Wharton could have also hurt my candidacy.

I am not sure I will be going to b-school this fall (for reasons I will share later), and may not go ever. Regardless, I will solicit feedback from the Wharton people. Maybe they will tell me what I can do better.

On another note, I have an interview invite from Kellogg, but my alumni interviewer seems to be MIA. I guess I need to give him another few days before I call the school.

44 Years Ago

It has been a long time. So long that he has to think hard to remember the details. He was in 10th grade at the time. It was Valentine’s day and this girl he had known for a while had asked him out. He had reluctantly agreed. The date had been ok. They had spoken on the phone a few times after that, but two weeks later, they had agreed that it was not going to work out.

They had lost touch and he had almost forgotten about her. Till he received a card on his birthday several months later. She said she had fallen in love with him. He did not understand. He called her up. He thought they had mutually agreed to not see each other. She replied that he had suggested it, and she did not have the courage to say otherwise. She had loved him for years, and had mustered up the courage that she did not know she had and had asked him out. Only for him to suggest that it would not work out. She had been crushed.

He was just 16. He did not like her, but the idea that someone loved him fascinated him. They agreed to start seeing each other again. He discovered that she was nice. He thought he remembered a lot of things about her. But all he could recall was that she was nice. And she loved him too much. He knew this and used this to always get her to agree with him. On everything.

Over time, he began to develop a liking for her. It was difficult to not to. She soon became his best friend. They spent hours talking on the phone with each other. There were times when they did not have anything more to talk about, and yet he wanted to stay on the phone with her.

She once asked him if he would always be with her. He had replied yes. He had fallen in love with her. He could not imagine finding someone who would love him more than she did. Time flew by, and soon it was time to go to college.

He was going far away to a different country. They would not see each other very often. They had taken vows to remain in touch and marry someday. It was obvious that it would be more difficult for her than it would be for him. It always is more difficult for the one who stays behind.

Few months later, she loved him even more. And he stopped loving her. He was surrounded by his new friends and was living a new life. He had loved her when she had been around. But now that she wasn’t, he did not miss her.

When he told her of this, she was devastated. She had always loved him more than he loved her. He felt for her, but he needed to be honest with her. He decided that it had just been puppy love.

His life went on. He dated different women, but he did not want to spend the rest of his life with any of them. This continued after college. His friends would set him up, and after a few months, he would find something lacking. His friends started getting married, and soon he was the only single one. He could never find someone who loved him as much as she did.

At 60, life had passed him by. He had been very successful in life, but the happiness that true love brings had always evaded him. Walking in the park on V-day’s eve, a young couple walking arm-in-arm had reminded him of that day when she had asked him out 44 years ago. If only she would do it again….

Great things about being at Home

There are tons, but these are the ones that came to mind right now....

1. Sitting in the backseat of the car and not concerned about where I am headed

2. Going everywhere without a penny in my pocket (mom and/or dad always flank me)

3. Opening the fridge and always finding something delicious to eat

4. Finishing your meal and not having to worry about who will take care of the dishes

5. Mom asking me what I want for breakfast an hour before I wake up so that it can be ready when I actually wake up

6. Never having to worry about e-mail/missed calls and who is at the door

7. Being constantly asked my mom and dad what do I want for each meal of the day

8. Talking to all my relatives (but for no longer than 5 minutes)

9. Seeing my dog

10. Chilling with my parents

The Rain

Disclaimer: Non MBA Related Post

He sat in his study watching the rain clean the earth of all its surroundings. It reminded him of the day when he had met her. It was pouring, and they had both taken refuge in the quaint coffee shop. There was only one table available, and they had reluctantly agreed to share it. He could not remember what started the conversation, but they were soon engaged in a lively discussion about nothing in particular.

It had been the start of the most whirlwind period of his life. They had started dating, were engaged 6 months later, and married by the year end. The funny part of it was that he had never thought he would get married. At 40, he had dated his share of women, and even been engaged twice, but things had never worked out. And when he had met her, it was as if he had been searching for her all his life.

The rain, which was continuing with the fury of a madman, also reminded him of one more day. The day after their wedding, when they had been returning from a store, and a truck had lost control and rammed into the passenger side.

It was not meant to be....

My Chicago Interview

I had my Chicago interview yesterday, and on the whole, I think it went fairly well. We met up at my interviewer's workplace, and upfront he told me me that the interview is supposed to be 30 minutes, and he wants to stick to that. He was extremely personable and instantly put me at ease.

Unlike my Columbia interview, which lasted over an hour and a half and was all over the place, my Chicago interview was very structured. My interviewer told that there were standard questions that he was supposed to ask, and he had written down some questions.

The questions that I remember (not necessarily in that order):

1) Why do you want to do your MBA at Chicago?
2) Why do you want to pursue a MBA?
3) Tell me about a time when you had a disagreement with someone. How was it resolved?
4) Tell me about a time when you failed at something.
5) I don't want you to talk me through your resume, but pick two things that you are most proud of on your resume. (I liked this question - gave me a chance to speak to a couple of things, rather than just give a summary)
6) What I thought about the "cheap lending" in the market, and if the economy was poised for a "soft landing"? (We both work on Wall Street, so this sort of made sense. But I doubt that this was a standard question).

At this point, we had been talking for 30 minutes. He then asked me if I had any questions. I asked him some about his background, and his experiences at Chicago. We had a good rapport, and I think both of us had a good time.

He did not give me any feedback on what he thought about my candidacy (and I thought it best to not ask), but he only had positive things to say throughout the interview, so hopefully that means that the interview went well.

In hindsight, there were a few things that I could have done better, but I guess that is always the case. My Columbia and Chicago interviews were worlds apart, but I think it has given me good perspective and will come in handy if I have any more interviews.

I do not have my Wharton invite yet yet, and there are not many days left to go. And no word on HBS and Stanford - I guess its still a little early to expect anything from them, but it will not be so in 2 more weeks!

Columbia Interview

So interviewed with Columbia....on Thursday. The interviewer has already submitted his evaluation, so all that I can do now is wait. I will write a post on the interview, but I think I will wait till I hear back from the school. I think the decision will help me evaluate the interview in a better light.

At any rate, it was good learning experience, and I think it has prepared me well for my Chicago interview, which is in a few hours from now.

Good luck to me....!

My Second Invite

I received my interview invite for Chicago on the 24th, only a few hours after they started sending the inviations. So, I will take this as a good omen, and now need to set up a time with the alum.

On another note, I have not received anything from Wharton yet. Considering that it is now 10 days into thier interview cycle, with about 17 more to go, I am not yet worried, but certainly getting there. Since Wharton interviews about half of the applicant pool, getting an interview is not an achievement, but not getting one would certainly lead me to cast doubts on my chances of Harvard and Stanford. People will tell you that there is no correlation, but still....

On the non b-school front, the vacation is over and I am back in New York. Visiting home as usual was, awesome. I did not do much, besides spend some quality time with my parents, eat and sleep. As one of my friends puts it - Your only goal on your trip home is to put on a few pounds. He is right!

My first Interview Invite

Just a quick update. I received my Columbia interview invite today - my first one. I had thought that Columbia only interviewed a small portion of their admits, but just realized that I was wrong. They interview close to half of their applicants, and almost 90% of their admits. So, I guess its a positive sign.

I am pretty impressed with how quick it came. Columbia says that it starts reviewing applications on January 10th, and it came in on the 18th. Well, I am not going to do much about it for next week or so, since I am on vacation. But I should atleast drop an e-mail to my potential interviewers.

Not a bad start!

My Visit to Harvard Business School

I made my trip to the undisputed number 1 business school on the planet, the Harvard Business School in March of 2006 – almost a year ago from now. I took a Chinatown bus to Boston on Sunday afternoon. I had signed up to attend classes at HBS and MIT on the following Monday.

I reached Boston at about 3 in the afternoon. It was my first time there. I took the subway (which was far less crowded than the ones in NYC) from the bus station and reached my hotel. It was a pretty cold day, with high winds. After checking in, I decided to check out Boston. Walked to the Harvard square, and was appropriately impressed. After seeing a few sights and grabbing a quick bite, I headed back to my hotel – a cold Boston with an annoying constant downpour did not make for a day of tourism.

The next morning, I took a cab to Harvard Business School. When I had signed-up for the class, I could not help noticing HBS’s policy that you can only attend a HBS class once. Not surprising as there are several thousand people visiting HBS every year and they certainly do not want to inundate classes with visitors.

The HBS campus was, in one word, spectacular. Even on an overcast day, you could feel the history of the place. There was a certain something in air. The place was sacrosanct – you could feel it in the walls. Unlike most other schools, HBS has a campus of its own, a couple of miles away from the Harvard University campus. It was old school architecture, with several small buildings scattered across a lush green campus. Reminded me of my college campus.

I was attending an 8:30 AM class, and we had been advised to get there at least 15 minutes in advance. When I reached Dillon, where the Admissions Office is housed, at 5 minutes past 8, several prospective students were already there. We said quick hellos, and each of us was handed a description of the class we were attending. I was sitting in on a General Management Strategy class.

At 8:20, our escort came to guide us to the class. I forget her name, but she was a first student at HBS. After college, she had worked for Deutsche Bank for a year in Real Estate Investment Banking, and then moved to a Real Estate Private Equity firm, where she had spent a year as well. Nothing too impressive, I thought to myself. I had been working on Wall Street for close to two years, and at a bank that was easily better than Deutsche.

She took us to the class. When I entered the building that housed the classrooms, I could almost feel the money. By now, I had seen my share of state of the art classrooms. However, HBS was certainly amongst the best I had ever seen. The classroom had stadium style seating, and the furniture just shone. Almost as if it had been built a few months back.

The class of 900 at HBS is divided into 10 sections of 90 each and those 90 students take all their classes together in their first year. The section becomes their family. Everything is very structured – there is no testing out of classes or anything of that sort. Every student is assigned a seat on the first day of the class, and that is where they sit. If I remember correct, they sit in one classroom all year round. A little too rigid for my taste, I remember thinking. I really am not a big fan of having to take all classes – I don’t know what I am going to learn in derivatives, having worked the field for over a year.

I sat next to a guy who was a doctor. He informed me that in the class of 900, there were about 40 doctors. Not PhDs but MDs. I knew that HBS took in people from all walks of life, but I certainly did not expect such a high percentage of doctors.

The class started at 8:30 sharp. The case study in class was on an Argentinean chocolate company, Arcor. There were no laptops, and no people coming in late. At 8:30 you were expected to ready to go and no exceptions. The professor kicked off the class, and true to the HBS style, suddenly the whole class was engaged in a discussion. Every point was countered, and everything challenged. Everyone brought their experiences to the school and enhanced the experience of other students. It was interesting, but at the same time a little fluffy. It was just opinions floating around, and there was no right or wrong answer.

Working in banking, I am used to right and wrong answers. Either the economics make sense, or they don’t. I knew that case studies were, to some extent, a lot of about BSing, but seeing it in reality certainly brought a different perspective.

However, the class was on the whole interesting. There were some students from Argentina, who brought first hand information, and provided the local perspective. This was the HBS strength at its best – bring in people from so many different backgrounds, that for every case study you have an individual who has been there, done that.

After the class, I killed some time in Spangler, their hang out place, and then joined some current students for lunch. The discussion was interesting, but once again, it was the unique backgrounds of the people that set HBS apart. One guy was from Canada and after working at Procter and Gamble for a couple of years, had opened a Quizno franchise, and sold it at a substantial profit a year later. Another guy used to work in the Dutch government. A guy had been a teacher for Teach for America for five years, and the last guy used to work at Apple, in the iTunes department. Take this with a grain of salt – I am sure this group was structured to represent diversity, but nonetheless, it showcased the breadth of the experience that students bring at HBS.

I am not so sold on any Teach for America teacher making it big in the business world, and this guy’s personality was anything but impressive. He may have devoted the past five years to his life to a nobler cause, but that in no way qualifies him to be a business leader. It was my first taste that not everyone at HBS is a superstar.

All in all, the discussions were interesting. Usual HBS themes – no books, only case studies, you are encouraged to challenge everything, and all that good stuff. The guy from Canada said something very interesting. Replying to a prospective who had asked him about theory in classes, he said that you don’t learn theory from just books. He said that at HBS, you had the opportunity to learn from guys who are formulating the theories of tomorrow. What can be better than learning the theories from the horse’s mouth? It made sense.

After lunch, my visit was over. I would have certainly liked to sit in on another class, but HBS would not allow that. I walked around the campus once more, mesmerized by the hallowed grounds of the Harvard Business School. I left the campus with one thought in mind – how wonderful it would be to be a student there for two years?

I am home

And after that application madness, I am finally home. Last time I was home in November of 2005, and this has been the shortest gap between two trips home. Needless to say, being home is great.

The food rocks, it is great to have nothing to besides chill and talk to my parents about anything and everything. It is great to catch up with old friends, even though every year, we have fewer things in common.

The flight home was surprisingly ok. I dread the London-India leg of the trip and start preparing for it mentally at least a month in advance. However, it was pretty painless this time. Probably the combination of alcohol and sleep! I did not sleep two nights, but I think I am settled well into the routine. The weather is great, and I am just happy to be escaping the frigid temperatures of New York.

It was great to see my dog again. I got her when I was 10 years old, and after 15 years, she is still going strong. She is a small German Spitz and we joke that she is living on “bonus” time. She is really old now, and has lost most of her teeth and survives now on a semi-solid diet! But she is still the cutest dog in the world, and as I often tell my brother, a more important part of the family than he is.

And now its time to get back to watching some bad TV under a warm quilt! There is really no update on any application as such – too early to hear from them anyways!

And I am done!

I am finally done with what has probably been the most excruciatingly painful process in my life. I hit the submit button for the last application about 12 hours ago, and have not stopped feeling great about life since then. There were various points of time, when I felt about writing something just to write something other than essays, but felt that I had to put everything into the application.

I promised myself that I will write all that I thought and felt about the business school application process, right from the first visit till the last submit, after I am done. I hope I can live up to that promise. I certainly have some time now, and am starting on a vacation in two days, so hopefully, I will live up to my word for the first few weeks at least.

The last 3 months have been, in one word, just painful. Not only for me - but atleast 2 of my close friends, my brother and of course, for Y. Why Y puts up with me is something that I fail to understand. For 3 months, it was one heck of a relationship. She would say something important, and my standard reply would be something along the lines of what do you think about this idea in essay 2 for school XYZ? What started out as asking friends to do me a favor soon turned in me expecting them to drop everything and respond to my e-mails about what they thought if I replaced a particular word? And my poor brother, who really got shortchanged on his Christmas break in NYC because I was too busy putting in applications instead of getting drunk.

But at least it is over. Or part of it. The madness will continue in Feb/March, after I receive some interview invites (there is a big assumption here, but trying for the self-fulfilling prophecy). I will try and give my readers, (for that 1 person who occasionally stumbles on it by mistake), some insight into my profile. I remember reading blogs of fellow MBA bloggers, and I always wanted to know their background and profile. So, I will try and give some information, which will atleast give them a sense.

I grew up in India, and went to college in the United States. I have been working on Wall Street at a bulge-bracket investment bank for 2 and a half years now. I took my GMAT about a year ago, and my score is a non-factor - well over the 700 mark. While it is not going to help me get in anywhere on its own, if I get dinged, it certainly will not be because of my GMAT. I believe those are the basic stats that people are most interested in. I did not have to take the TOEFL obviously. And if it matters, my breakdown between my verbal and quant was very well balanced.

There are several people who give tips for GMAT. Not sure how much help I will be. I took a course with Manhattan GMAT (my company paid for it). Went to the weekly class, studied for it for a couple of months and went and took the test. I never spent a lot of time on it, but spread over a few months, I probably put in 2-4 hours a week on it. I spent most of my time working on verbal, as after the first couple of weeks, my quant got to the point where I did not think I needed much more on it. I think preparation is key. It really surprises me when an engineer from India has a low quant score. I was an economics major and if I can score what I did, the techies from India should be able to ace the quant part. I believe a lot of it comes down to understanding the kind of questions, and having a strategy to crack them. I think I spent the large majority of my time on practice tests and doing questions from the official GMAT book (the green one).

I visited each of the schools that I ended up applying to (will talk about my visits in detail in following posts), even the one that I really did not like. But it is such a well known school that it was hard to pass up on it. So after I was done with all my applications, I wrote essays for that school in day and just put it in. I really have no expectations from it, but sometimes you just never know.

And now the waiting game begins!