wannaB-schooler!

In the coming few months, I will be see my dreams of five years turn to reality…or not! Depends on whether I get in…into B-school …. In the ‘land of opportunity’ - do they still call it considering the recession and all that? I’ve wanted to study in America since I visited there in tenth grade and the life-altering move will happen based on whether these highly-coveted schools think I am worth them. Well, I am…they just gotta see it like I do.

The really ironic thing about MBA school applications is that they make you introspect. I was hoping to take out of two years of my life to do just that – introspect. That … while I go to class, have intellectual debates on the future of digital marketing during recession with a Korean classmate over Starbucks caramel latte, take exchange trips to Venezuela, and at the end of it fight for a job in these dismal times – that is when I figure out what kinda job I like and balance it to how much it pays. If they make me reflect so much now, I will have nothing to do when I join school – oh wait, knowing me I’ll find something to think (pre-fix: over) about.

My strategy: applying to seven schools – each one of these is very hard to get into. My admissions counselor guy thinks I’m a fool to not include some other schools in which getting in would be a cake walk for me. But, I honestly get turned on by a challenge – an easy win does not get me off. Plus, If I spend so much money (read: I = Dad), leave my cushy life in India and give up my harem of servants behind to go slog my ass off in a new country – it better be for a top-class MBA behind my name and a rockstar husband and a mad-money career following it. After all, I am supposedly giving up a nice domesticated life - mass-producing fat little babies and cooking Andhra fish curry for my very rich, lungi-wearing, moustache’d Telugu husband (so says my dad, trying to show me what I’ll be missing…while I look at it as what I will be escaping…teehee).

Seven schools, four essays on an average – 28 long pieces of blowing-my-own-trumpet (read: self-dabba for my ‘desi’ friends), i-think-business-can-coexist-with-ethics-and- world peace , I-believe-I- can-fly kinda stories for the MBA admissions committees to digest. I will be burning the midnight oil for many nights – I better get in or the local suicide helpline can pre-book a half-an-hour counseling session for me.

Wish me luck!

This dance is mine

I'm lost in thought
You take my hand
A gentle tug
I rise to stand

You lead me on
Hands intertwine
I walk with you
This dance is mine

The saxophone sings
My heart beats to the base
Music takes over
I meet your gaze

My feet follow yours
Floating across the floor
You twist, I twirl
Backgrounds blur

You throw me up
I kiss the sky
You bring me down
I am still high

The song is gone
My heart still sings
You walk me home
But you give me wings

Days crawl by
of sun and rain
I ache, I yearn
When do we dance again

One with you

Without you.
I wake up to another day
of unfulfilled desire, of deep languish
of intense pain,
of wasted life?

Without you.
Time stands still.
But the hunger grows.
Every passing minute,
I crave for you.

Without you.
I eat to live
I die to drink.
My lips can still taste you,
You fill up my senses.

Without you.
Company is bland.
My soul doesn't rise up to dance,
even to my favorite beat.
Alone in a crowd, always.

Without you.
I crawl.
I beg.
I exist. Merely.
Till I am one with you.

Note: This is an ode to my two favorite things in the world - Meat and alcohol. I am off both for 40 days and 40 nights. August 20... I am one with you!