wiseman
08-20-2004, 12:54 PM
Friends/Indians/MBA Aspirants,
Every year, around autumn time, a strange phenomenon seems to afflict the youth of India. With starry dreams in their eyes and hallucinatory dollar registers ringing in their ears, they rush to the nearest bank branches, not to apply for vacant Bank Probationary Officers' posts, but to shell out a princely sum that will allow them to test their dame luck at the great academic roulette wheel of our nation - the Common Admission Test. The reasons for this mass hysteria are not hard to fathom. A benign alignment of the astral constellations for 2 hours in the first week of December, these dreamy youth hope, could significantly alter for the better, the manner in which they would spend the rest of their earthly existence. And the specific stimulus for this apparent increase in the adrenalin levels of a vast majority of them is a dubious statistic that gets quoted in all newspapers under the item "International Placements in the IIMs". However, what these happless victims of media hype, which by the way is engineered with active assistance from b-school authorities, alumni and other similar misguided and ill informed characters of their own ilk, is that there are a few other acts that could better qualify for the title of "The greatest con job ever pulled off" than this one. And whats more, the show runs to a packed theatre on an annual rerun, a-la a Gemini circus in a pre independence Andhra town.
For the uninformed, let me tell you that these coveted one way tickets to the west, dont come without their troublesome baggage. For starters, they are not avilable to just about anyone in the IIMs. A stamp of approval by way of a 9 CGPA in IIT or a top rank in the MBA graduating class is almost of a neccessity to even land an interview with one of these H1 visa disbursing agents. Whats more the positions that they interview for are what are filled by undergrads of the US universities. So, your cousin brother who went to a Maryland or a Michigan while you were cramming for your December d-day will just be a few years and a couple of designations ahead when the two of you (if ever) report to your wall street boss. "But, didnt he also spend that many dollars more?", you may ask. Could have been a valid point, except that graduating from an Analyst to an Associate in an Investment Bank almost always calls for an extra degree, read, a US MBA. That would explain the fact as to why almost all of the brown skinned folks who get shipped out from across the seas end up again spending those $$$ and years to get a second MBA. So much for your supposed intellectual prowess at cracking numerical tests. Long live your dumb Maryland cousin. And not to mention the roles that such "fortunate" folks land with. If you thought that the US is the utopian melting pot of cultures, where you will be garlanded on arrival at the JFK airport for your famed abilities to contrive complex valuation models in a jiffy, and whisked away to a glass tower in Lower Manhattan in a Michael Jackson-esque limousine to put those skills to use, think again. The lifelines of consulting and finance industries in the US are powerful networks that get built during long courses of time. And that my friend is a preserve of the Harvards and Whartons of the world, and may I add, to some discomfort of our friends who are sensitive to political correctness, it is also largely a preserve of the "white man". So, what about our desi cousin who just got into a Sardar Driven New York cab and is now peeking out with his jaws dropping at the sight of the monstrous Manhattan skyscrapers? Well, rest assured. He will be provided with a couple of green screen IBM PCs where he can stare at tickers that move in random jerks, which he can stare at for 10 hours at a stretch every day, day after day for years on end, while the hair on his head grow from black to grey to non-existence as a result of the prolonged bouts of mental and physical stress that his body is subjected to.
Yeah, talk about earning dollars and enjoying life. Whoever wants that stupid job in Air India, where all you do is sip tea and shoot the breeze all day in the fifteenth floor of an exquisite Nariman Point building. For me, west is best while home is a place where I can get my wife from.
Long live the "INDIAN" Institutes of Management!!
Yours,
WISE
Every year, around autumn time, a strange phenomenon seems to afflict the youth of India. With starry dreams in their eyes and hallucinatory dollar registers ringing in their ears, they rush to the nearest bank branches, not to apply for vacant Bank Probationary Officers' posts, but to shell out a princely sum that will allow them to test their dame luck at the great academic roulette wheel of our nation - the Common Admission Test. The reasons for this mass hysteria are not hard to fathom. A benign alignment of the astral constellations for 2 hours in the first week of December, these dreamy youth hope, could significantly alter for the better, the manner in which they would spend the rest of their earthly existence. And the specific stimulus for this apparent increase in the adrenalin levels of a vast majority of them is a dubious statistic that gets quoted in all newspapers under the item "International Placements in the IIMs". However, what these happless victims of media hype, which by the way is engineered with active assistance from b-school authorities, alumni and other similar misguided and ill informed characters of their own ilk, is that there are a few other acts that could better qualify for the title of "The greatest con job ever pulled off" than this one. And whats more, the show runs to a packed theatre on an annual rerun, a-la a Gemini circus in a pre independence Andhra town.
For the uninformed, let me tell you that these coveted one way tickets to the west, dont come without their troublesome baggage. For starters, they are not avilable to just about anyone in the IIMs. A stamp of approval by way of a 9 CGPA in IIT or a top rank in the MBA graduating class is almost of a neccessity to even land an interview with one of these H1 visa disbursing agents. Whats more the positions that they interview for are what are filled by undergrads of the US universities. So, your cousin brother who went to a Maryland or a Michigan while you were cramming for your December d-day will just be a few years and a couple of designations ahead when the two of you (if ever) report to your wall street boss. "But, didnt he also spend that many dollars more?", you may ask. Could have been a valid point, except that graduating from an Analyst to an Associate in an Investment Bank almost always calls for an extra degree, read, a US MBA. That would explain the fact as to why almost all of the brown skinned folks who get shipped out from across the seas end up again spending those $$$ and years to get a second MBA. So much for your supposed intellectual prowess at cracking numerical tests. Long live your dumb Maryland cousin. And not to mention the roles that such "fortunate" folks land with. If you thought that the US is the utopian melting pot of cultures, where you will be garlanded on arrival at the JFK airport for your famed abilities to contrive complex valuation models in a jiffy, and whisked away to a glass tower in Lower Manhattan in a Michael Jackson-esque limousine to put those skills to use, think again. The lifelines of consulting and finance industries in the US are powerful networks that get built during long courses of time. And that my friend is a preserve of the Harvards and Whartons of the world, and may I add, to some discomfort of our friends who are sensitive to political correctness, it is also largely a preserve of the "white man". So, what about our desi cousin who just got into a Sardar Driven New York cab and is now peeking out with his jaws dropping at the sight of the monstrous Manhattan skyscrapers? Well, rest assured. He will be provided with a couple of green screen IBM PCs where he can stare at tickers that move in random jerks, which he can stare at for 10 hours at a stretch every day, day after day for years on end, while the hair on his head grow from black to grey to non-existence as a result of the prolonged bouts of mental and physical stress that his body is subjected to.
Yeah, talk about earning dollars and enjoying life. Whoever wants that stupid job in Air India, where all you do is sip tea and shoot the breeze all day in the fifteenth floor of an exquisite Nariman Point building. For me, west is best while home is a place where I can get my wife from.
Long live the "INDIAN" Institutes of Management!!
Yours,
WISE