Sunday, January 21, 2007

XAT results

If you think that this blog is turning into a place where I record all the calls I get - you're quite right! Cuz I have another! XAT results came out yesterday, and I got 99.67 percentile! Ha! Feline creatures of the world can go die for all I care!

Seriously, though - XAT was the best paper out of all the exams this year. CAT gave too much of an advantage to people good at quant, IIFT was a paper no one could make head or tail of, and SNAP was an insult to one's intelligence. XAT, on the other hand, was well-balanced and didn't give too much of an advantage to anyone. They even had a section on case studies, which I think is something a management exam should, ideally, have. Never mind that no one really attempted it. Also dude, they were giving out free coffee at my XAT centre! Just the thing on a cold winter morning. And the results were declared with in two weeks too! Unlike CAT which took a month and a half. And lest you think that this is sour grapes, I did get a call from IIFT and IIMA (a miracle, with 98.61 percentile) and I cleared the SIBM cutoff by twenty-three marks. (Good thing I didn't apply.)

Overall, the XAT results have left me quite content. Begone, feline monsters that told me I sucked at Verbal Ability! Begone, creatures that whispered that I couldn't do well just when it mattered!

As I posted on PagalGuy yesterday, if the way the institutes conduct their exams were a reflection of how good they are, God save the IIM's!
• • •

Wednesday, January 03, 2007

On Top of the World

If you'd asked me before November 19th, 2006 if I thought I would "bell" the CAT, I would have told you that I was confident of getting a ninety-nine percentile, but not of clearing all the sectional cut-offs.

Which goes to show why you must never ever think you "know" CAT. They removed the English Usage section, which was what used to get me a ninety-nine point whatever percentile, but the other sections went well, and I was hopeful, since no one seemed to be able to give the correct answer key for the English section.

I got a 98.6 percentile in CAT 2006. Cleared all the sectional cut-offs with above 96 in two sections and above 95 in one. I got to know the result yesterday, and I was absolutely down-in-the-dumps because it seemed to rule out the top three IIM's.

So today morning, my parents woke me up at six to check the IIMA call list. I got up reluctantly, because I "knew" that I wouldn't make it through. "Just tell us your registration number," they said. "We'll check it." Of course, I couldn't let them do that, and I checked it myself. But the page wasn't loading.

So I went to PagalGuy, to check what people were saying there. And on the IIMA call thread, I learnt that IIMA had mentioned the selection criteria (I suppose because they knew they would have to do it eventually, thanks to the RTI Act) - candidates whose percentile in each section was above 95.33 and who have an overall percentile above 98.3 have been called for the GD & PI. Oh man, I couldn't sit still after reading that!

But the page still wasn't loading! Ah, such agonizing minutes. But finally it did load, and I keyed in my number and date of birth, and TADA!

You have been short-listed for Group Discussion and Personal Interview for admission to PGP (2007-2009 batch), IIMA. You are requested to visit the website on or after January 10, 2007 to check for Interview date, time and venue.

You will receive our official letter soon.

Whee! Did I mention that I love the world? And all that's in it? Which includes you?

I don't care if I'm at a disadvantage among all those ninety-nine percentile engineers with work-ex. I'm a fresher and I got a call! 1,53,000 people wrote it, 608 people got calls in the General category, and I'm one of them. Damn, but this feels good.
• • •

Sunday, December 24, 2006

First Call

The IIFT exam results came out yesterday and I got a call! How brilliant is that?

I was outside Venky, having lunch from one of those roll places, and Mani messaged me, "Congrats on IIFT." Very matter-of-fact and all, and I obviously couldn't believe it, because the exam had gone so badly. I told my friend, "I think I might have got through IIFT." And she was more excited than I was. I messaged him back immediately, "Seriously? You had better not have been joking, Mani." Yeah, that's how I message. But, bleh, I didn't get the delivery report for another fifteen minutes, and by then I'd decided to just call him up and ask and he said, "Haan, haan, yaar. Maine dekha hai tera naam." Or something to that effect. Whee! I didn't do a little jig at the bus stop but it was a close thing.

So this is the first call I'm getting. And I feel so happy about it. I love the world and it loves me! I think I'm so happy mostly because the paper hadn't gone too well. You know how it is - you build up for CAT on the nineteenth, and after it there's this deflated 'that's it?' sort of feeling, and you're sleep-walking through the week, rather than studying for the IIFT paper next Sunday. During the paper, I was just attempting the questions I felt like attempting, rather than the ones it would have been smart to attempt.

CAT results come out on the second, and SNAP results on the eighth, and both of those went better than IIFT. Though it's the comparative performance that matters, of course. Nineteen thousand people gave the paper, and eleven hundred have cleared it, and now there's the GD/PI process left. But I don't really want to think about that right now. This feeling - it's so nice and warm.
• • •

Thursday, November 23, 2006

CAT 2006

So right, yeah, CAT 2006. I'll just analyse it once in this post, and everyone who gave it, or is planning to give it, can read it, and then I'll resume regular programming. If I feel like it.

So you've all read that bit about CAT changing its stripes and so on. Seventy-five questions this time, as opposed to ninety last time and a hundred and twenty-three the time before. (And other shudder-inducingly high numbers before that.) The whole pattern had changed. No variable marking, which was a boon as far as I was concerned. Straight four marks for each answer, as opposed to the usual one- and two-markers. And only one mark cut for each negative answer. Big "whew!" at that.

My centre was in Daryaganj, in a school called, of all things, Happy School. It turned out to be not as shady as I thought it would be. Nice single desks - non-creaky ones too, which is about all that I ask of a desk with such a crucial role in my life. In fact, it kind of reminded me of a desk I used to have when I was a kid. It had a liftable lid, with space inside where you could keep your books and stuff.

Anyway, we got the answer sheets at ten, and I noticed the five options thing straight away. I wasn't really worried, though, because I was too busy feeling relieved at the fact that the sheet only had space for one-twenty answers. We got the question papers at ten-twenty, and I read the instructions, and barely stopped myself from gasping aloud. Twenty-five marks in each section, four marks to each answer - the paper was out of three hundred! I remembered that the prospectus had said that we needed to score at least one-fourth of the total marks in the sections. Twenty-five out of hundred seemed managable enough.

So everyone who has read till now must now that the English section was devilishly tough - three Reading Comprehension passages with five questions each, five paragraph completion questions and another type of question that I'd never seen before, but apparently used to come many years before. And not only did all the questions require actual application of your brain, but the options were so close that, even when you tried the elimination of options method, you were left with at least a couple of possible answers. And my predicament was even worse than others'. Because I usually score well in the vocabulary and grammar based questions. But there wasn't a single one of those this year. In one stroke they'd removed the stuff that I was actually good at, and put in the stuff that I'd been averaging fifty percent accuracy in, in the Mocks.

I finished off the English section as best as I could, and moved on to Maths. And boy, did it raise my spirit! Every question was easy! I attempted thirteen and got twelve right. And I would have scored even more, except for my inability to believe that the questions could be so easy.

Then, with an hour left, I moved onto DI, which was midway between Maths and English in terms of difficulty level. I attempted eighteen questions, got at least thirteen correct. Think I got one more correct, but only one coaching institute seems to agree with me. Thank you, God, for letting me 'get' that mathematical conference set. I feel so proud of myself for that one. 'Should have been avoided' was the suggestion most experts gave about that set, but whoo, I got that one right!

And that was it. Two and a half hours later, I was out. Feeling pretty content with myself too, though I had no idea about how others had done, of course. Since then, I've been both down in the dumps, and ecstatic, depending on which answer key I choose to believe. Still - at the end of the day, it's the IIM answer key that counts, as I read in some forum or the other, and I'll have to wait till January to find out. Meanwhile, though, I'm basking in the glory of having done much better than anyone in my class - which is not saying much, by the way, since All Mathsies Suck At English (proved via extensive research). It has raised my stock to dizzying heights. (Is this what's called mixing of metaphors, by the way?) Most gratifying.
• • •

Monday, October 09, 2006

Delhi

I like Delhi when it's raining. I love it in the autumn. I like it on foggy winter mornings. I dislike it when it leans on the horn a second after the light turns green. I loathe it when it labels me 'Madrasi' and takes me for granted. I like its DTC buses - for me they'll always mean U-specials and fun and non-flirty conductors. I love the green trees on both sides of the Delhi roads. I love Lutyen's Delhi. I like cruising through the streets at midnight, when the trees are lit by soft yellow sodium lamps. I pity Delhi when it asks me for alms at traffic lights, with a baby in its arms. I am in awe of the way it draws my eyes upwards everytime I pass South Block; the yellow and rust coloured stone always makes me feel proud of my country, how ironic.

I love the Delhi Metro. I love bus route no. 610. I like the little green autos. I love and hate travelling in Delhi autos in the winter - the chilly air will refresh you and freeze you to the bone at the same time. I loathe Delhi in the summer - how it tires you the moment you step out of the house, how it coats your hair with dust and sweat. But I love the taste of cold water after a day of travelling in the Delhi heat. Delhi taught me to value AC's and coolers. Delhi taught me how to travel by bus. In Delhi, I've travelled by car, by bike, by bus, by the Metro, by autos (both ordinary and the communal three-rupee ones). Delhi gave me every bit of whatever independence I have.

I love the AIIMS flyover. I love Dilli Haat. I like INA Market - Ivide Nursammaru Alayunnu, hehe. I love how you can always hear a bit of Malayalam if you listen hard enough, no matter which market you go to. I love the soft yellow glow of the lamps at vegetable markets. I love Sarojini Nagar, Lajpat Nagar, Janpath - I love all the street markets. I love the kurtas and the silver jewellery and the bargaining. Oh wait, not the bargaining.

I generally dislike North Delhi, but I love the University Campus. I love its greenery. I know I'm going to miss it in the years to come, no matter how much I crib about it. I wish I could have enjoyed it more. I love the bhel-puri-wallah at Patel Chest. Hell, I like all the street food I've ever eaten in Delhi. I love the momos at Dilli Haat. I also plan to eat beef from Kottaram restaurant in INA market at least once before I leave.

I loathe Delhi temples - both the ones I've been to, I mean. I like going up and down flyovers. I like Chanakya Cinema. I love Deer Park - its trees and its muted light and its geriatrics and its ruins.

[This post will keep getting updated as I think of more things I love/hate/dislike/loathe.]
• • •

Wednesday, October 04, 2006

Blue Planet

This was it. Armageddon. She looked up at the mile-high wall of water as it approached. It was tremendously awe-inspiring, a solid block of water lifted up by the latest earthquake. She had told herself that she would not be afraid on this last little adventure, but she couldn't help the thrill of fear that shot through her body. The little hillock she stood on would soon be underwater. Once upon a time, it had been one of the highest peaks on the planet.

Only a few minutes left now for the water to hit her. She looked at the calm sea surrounding her on all sides. It lapped at her feet gently. A tame beast, except for the mountain of water approaching her rapidly. She could hear it now, its greedy roar.

"I'm the last person left on earth," she told herself. It was a bit of a thrill. "The last representative of a miserable race that defeated itself by defeating a planet."

Less than five hundred metres now. She realized that it was slightly concave, not the solid vertical wall it had seemed from far away. The upper edge was white-tipped. The bottom was almost green. She felt she could taste the spray on her tongue if she wanted to. The movement of the water as it got swept up into the wall was almost hypnotic.

Was it becoming faster as it came nearer? Only a minute or two now. She could barely see the top edge. The bottom was so thick, so green, so deep. And so near. Had she left it too late?

She clenched the remote in her left hand. She waited till the wave was almost upon her. It drenched her through her wetsuit. The spray landed salty on her tongue. The sun was blocked out. The world was nothing but the blue-green darkness surrounding her. She pushed down the button, even as a sudden stab of illogical doubt went through her. What if it didn't work?

The next minute, she was in her Ship. Wet through and through, teeth chattering, her suit clinging to her. But alive.

A burst of relieved cheering made her grin. All around her, the crew clapped and shouted. She gave them a theatrical little wave as she stepped out of the Beaming Portal. Scotty, her second-in-command, came forward. "Now may we leave, Captain?" he asked with an effort at his usual dryness, though he couldn't contain his relieved grin either.

"Hell, yeah! Heave-ho for Mother Mars!" she yelled, earning a roar of approval from the crew. Then they all turned as one for a last look at the planet they were leaving behind. It spun uselessly on its axis, completely blue now, even as its last inhabitants sped away.
• • •

Sunday, September 10, 2006

Elections

Ever since the murder of a Professor in Ujjain, the country has been largely against student union elections and campus politics in general. But if you ask me - college elections are brilliant fun. From an outsider's point of view, of course.

In my college, there are two different elections held simultaneously - one for the Delhi University Students' Union and one for the officebearers of the students' union of the college itself. Obviously, the campaigning for the college elections is more visible in each college, because the University people have a lot more ground to cover.

This year, the election for the college President post was very hotly contested - three candidates in the fray, as opposed to one last year. It went without saying that each of the candidates had to be a hosteller, because no one could even think of winning without the support of at least one of the different hosteller groups. I believe these groups form on the basis of caste more than anything else.

They used every one of the old tricks this time - plus new ones. First they gave us questionnaires, asking us what we wanted. And on the basis of the answers they got, they printed their manifestos. Saved them a lot of thinking, I suppose. Other than this new method, there were all the usual things - pamphlets with the name and ballot number of the candidate in bold letters, posters, barging into classes with their coteries and giving long speeches. But, to grow with the times, they also sent emails and SMS's. They also printed t-shirts with VOTE FOR [CANDIDATE'S NAME] in bold letters. So much money wasted, especially if you lose.

I loved the campaigning bit, honestly. Each of the candidates had a huge gang of hostellers and other sundry people supporting them (probably bribed with the promise of good food later) and they took out processions through the college corridors, shouting the name of the candidate. Whew, the energy. The chants, of course, were exactly the same as they've been for the past several decades:

Hamara president kaisa ho?
Kaisa ho? kaisa ho?
[Candidate's name] jaisa ho!
Jaisa ho! Jaisa ho!

It gave one goosebumps to watch the processions go by. Wearing their mass-printed t-shirts and yelling at the top of their collective voice, singlemindedly supporting one person. Watching them, one could suddenly understand how people become monsters when in mobs. But there was a certain beauty about it too. Especially when one thought of the generations of people who must have done exactly the same thing in the years past. Who must have come from the same villages in Bihar or UP or wherever, dreaming of studying in the big city. We're the same people as our predecessors, no matter what we like to think.

But despite this, there was no violence. I was sitting with my friends in the canteen the other day, having pao-bhaji, and two different processions marched in through two different doors. My first thought was, "Oh, no." There was no way to escape, because both the doors were blocked. But despite my fears, it was all very civilized and non-violent. Well, perhaps not civilized, exactly, unless one calls climbing on top of tables and chanting someone's name in a frenzy civilized. The two gangs saw each other, stopped, and decided to have a chanting session right there in the canteen. They each formed a multi-layered circle, and started chanting away. They both had almost the same number of people, so it was hard to make out who was saying what. They started out with the Kaisa ho chant, but soon degenerated into just shouting their respective candidate's name over and over again. But the decibel level was so high, I could actually feel my chair vibrate. Whew. You had to be in that tiny dark crowded canteen to feel the energy. Though I think I would have enjoyed it more had I not been afraid for my life and plotting escape routes. But the campaigners were all grinning, enjoying themselves thoroughly.

Perhaps the lack of violence had something to do with the candidates. They were very mild-mannered, and there was only one who could actually speak for himself. The others relied on their 'assistants' to put across their election promises to us, and only said at the end, "I'm So-and-so, ballot number such-and-such. Please vote-support-elect." Everyone used that phrase, I've no idea why.

My class is one of the largest in college, with fifty-sixty people, so every single candidate made a point of barging into class and asking us for votes. Never mind that mathsies are famous for sitting at home on election days. Anyway, this was good for us, because our professors soon got tired of trying to teach in a constantly disturbed class, especially with the sloganeering going on outside, and ended classes early.

In the beginning, we all made aeroplanes out of the pamphlets they gave us, so that the front portion of the room was carpeted with the crushed corpses of single-flight planes. But there were so many pamphlets that we soon got tired of making aeroplanes. Some diverged into the creation of paper boats, but you can't launch boats into the air with a whoop, so that was short-lived.

They should ban pamphlets in college elections. Posters are okay, but pamphlets are so messy. For the past two weeks, you couldn't go anywhere in college without stepping on the hundreds of pamphlets littering the floor, never mind all those times your mother advised you not to step on paper because it represents Saraswathy Devi, the Goddess of Learning. Campaigners would just throw whole stacks of pamphlets into the air, and they would flutter down pathetically, the candidates' faces staring at us glumly from the floor. I don't know what purpose it served, because it certainly irritated me to have to check my clothes constantly for stray bits of paper.

I didn't vote the last two years, but I was determined to vote this time, this being my last year in college and everything. Plus I'd promised several people in my class (hostellers who were campaigning for one candidate or the other) that I would vote. One of them even called me up the night before the election and said, "Jasmine, tu aa rahi hai na?" And he called just for that. WTF.

On election day, North Campus was filled with police people. Still, I heard somewhere that some girl had been molested near Patel Chest by some campaigners. Anyway, they were very strict about ID cards at the college gate. As soon as I walked in through the gate there was a whole crowd of people I had to wade through. They pressed pamphlets towards me and intoned "Vote for ballot no.2." or "Vote for So-and-so." Now that is what I call last-minute campaigning.

Electronic Voting Machines were being used for the first time in DU elections, and every one was very excited. And slightly apprehensive too, because they weren't sure how to use them. But the more confident ones cracked, "Arre! Tune Reliance ka ad nahi dekha! Bas button dabao!" Heh.

The voting happened very slowly this time, more seasoned voters told me. There were huge queues outside the booths and some people even left without voting, fed up with people who displayed that typical Delhi habit of jumping queues. I swear to God - there's nothing that irritates me more. Fortunately, I didn't have to deal with it this time, because I went early. But still, it's a fact of Delhi life - wherever there's a queue, there will be people who're too superior to join it where it ends.

It only took me ten seconds to vote, compared to the thirty minutes I had to wait in a queue. Just pressed a lot of buttons. I voted for the SFI in the DUSU elections. Neither the NSUI nor the ABVP appealed to me, and I was sure that the SFI would lose anyhow. So it was sort of a no-vote, I suppose.

I only got to know later that that guy from the anti-reservation campaign - Aditya Dar - was standing for the DUSU president post. I would have voted for him had I known before that he was a candidate. But apparently, he didn't do any campaigning - not even in his own college, wierd person. I know a lot of people who didn't care about any of the political parties and who would have voted for him purely based on the work he's done in the anti-reservation campaign. I suppose he was proving some point or the other.

The newspapers claimed yesterday that it was the novelty factor of the EVM's that caused the high turnout. Pure bunkum - let me tell you. It was Lage Raho Munnabhai that was the reason. Practically everyone I know had plans to watch the movie on Friday. They only voted because they had to meet up somewhere first, and college seemed like a good place, and they thought, "Okay, I'm here anyways. I should vote." My college had one of the highest turnouts, and I attribute that to the brilliant campaigning strategy of the candidates. I mean, who can refuse when someone calls you up at night and says, "Please kal aa jana. Yeh mera request hai."

All in all, it was FUN. I'm glad I voted. I guess Delhi University showed the country that campus politics doesn't automatically have to mean violence and murder.
• • •