The Class of 1977: Managing the Affairs of the Heart

ashokbhatia

An academic course in management obviously does not offer lessons in managing the affairs of the heart. But the Class of 1977 broke through the academic shackles, with some of its members walking out of the campus with a clear strategy as to who their future soul mate shall be.

The stiff-upper-lip approach

Management education is all about the stiff-upper-lip approach of the mind. Analytical skills rule supreme, leading to rummy situations where analysis often leads to paralysis. Linear programming models get worked upon. Statistical techniques get dished out by stern looking professors who might have been hotter in their jobs more as police officers or as judges.

Hapless students are made to understand exponential smoothening techniques so as to be able to forecast business parameters in an uncertain business environment. Those with an engineering background struggle to match their debits and credits. The lucky ones who have had a…

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The Class of 1976: Some pseudo-academic pursuits

ashokbhatia

Besides perfecting the art of getting suspended, organizing musical events and assisting in the successful launch of such cult classic movies like Sholay, the Class of 1976 also indulged in various pseudo-academic pursuits.

These included holding pan-Indian conferences in the pre-Jurassic days when not many money-gobbling dinosaur-like management institutes with a dubious pedeagogy happened to be clogging our streets.

Participation in elocution contests and winning trophies for the Alma Mater was a routine affair. So was attending professional events in New Delhi, holding a bridge championship, organizing a quiz contest and such other endeavours.

Maruti was then being heralded as a fulfilment of the common man’s transport ambitions. A detailed market survey based on ‘product attribute analysis’ was conducted, the results of which were eagerly lapped up by the Automobile Association of India.

Here are some details of the pseudo-academic endeavours of the gang of 1976.

A confluence of…

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The Class of 1976: Forging the lingering bonds of friendship

ashokbhatia

One of the major rewards of being a part of the gang of 1976 has been the kind of strong and resilient bonds of friendship one has been able to forge. Bonds which have survived the harsh slings and arrows of Life. Bonds which are like underground cable connections – dormant, but in place, ready to be reactivated as and when necessary.

Way back in the 1970s, UBS was an integral part of what was then known as the Department of Commerce and Business Management. Students of the Commerce stream would tend to treat the ones from the Management stream with some degree of awe, though laced with not-so-healthy contempt. Some lecturers from the Commerce side regularly put on a tie, trooped down to the ground floor, and shared their wisdom in de-mystifying balance sheets and cash flows with the Management students.

How friends made me gate-crash, cruise through, and…

View original post 1,320 more words

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The Class of 1976: Some encounters of a musical kind

ashokbhatia

The gang of twenty-five wannabe managers, when it entered the not-so-hallowed precincts of the University Business School of Panjab University, Chandigarh in the year 1974, was clueless as to the effective use to which the power of music could be put to practice the art of managing people.

Much later in their careers, some members of the gang might have woken up to the immense potential of healthy musical practices when it came to surviving in the corporate jungle. Some would have soared higher whistling the tune that their bosses wanted to hear from them. Others would have become great leaders based on the results their teams produced, much like an orchestra gets led by a conductor to produce mellifluous symphonies.

Some might have perfected the art of phasing out dissent from their team members by the sheer power of their vocal chords, not alike the way even soulful lyrics get drowned…

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The Class of 1976: How it managed to get suspended for a week!

ashokbhatia

The gang of twenty-five wannabe managers which had entered the not-so-hallowed portals of UBS* in the year 1974 had only one regret. Fate had not been kind to it. Gender diversity had taken a toss. None of the members were from the tribe of the delicately nurtured. The batch senior to them did boast of a few, but none who would put a Venus to shame. A sense of melancholy pervaded. The roving eye, having roved, could at best console itself with brief encounters with some of the lotus-eyed females of the species on the campus either while visiting the Student Centre or when loitering around the campus.

The gang was blissfully unaware of the fact that an alumnus of Panjab University could become a sagacious, albeit reluctant, Prime Minister of India some thirty years down the road. Some of its members had vaguely heard of a keen and bright…

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My pride, my UBS

ashokbhatia

In our lives, UBS played the role of a dynamic and bustling airport,
From which we soared in life´s azure skies, enjoying our flights of high
import;
Some took to exploring various corners of our Mother Earth,
Of CEOs, diplomats, businessmen and bankers amongst us there is no dearth.

While in UBS’ hallowed portals, we enjoyed bunking classes,
The brainy ones worked on assignments which were copied by the masses;
Cornering important books from the Central Library was a critical vocation,
For poking fun at our faculty, Student Centre was the prime location.

OB theories and riddles of Sales Forecasting kept us on our toes,
Figuring out Quantitative Techniques made us feel abysmal lows;
Twiddling our thumbs to read between the lines of a Balance Sheet,
Devouring the works of Philip Kotler was much up our street.

Weekend treks to Kasauli and Morni Hills were favourite gigs,
Midnight gorging on…

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The Class of 1977: Managing the Affairs of the Heart

An academic course in management obviously does not offer lessons in managing the affairs of the heart. But the Class of 1977 broke through the academic shackles, with some of its members walking out of the campus with a clear strategy as to who their future soul mate shall be.

The stiff-upper-lip approach

Management education is all about the stiff-upper-lip approach of the mind. Analytical skills rule supreme, leading to rummy situations where analysis often leads to paralysis. Linear programming models get worked upon. Statistical techniques get dished out by stern looking professors who might have been hotter in their jobs more as police officers or as judges.

Hapless students are made to understand exponential smoothening techniques so as to be able to forecast business parameters in an uncertain business environment. Those with an engineering background struggle to match their debits and credits. The lucky ones who have had a background in commerce twiddle their fingers trying to grasp the complexities of quantitative techniques in decision-making.

The neglected need to boost our EQs

The behavioural sciences do provide a little bit of cheer to the tormented souls undergoing a typical MBA course. But to understand the psychology of an individual is no mean task. Mere case studies and management tips for handling an industrial strife do not improve one’s EQ substantially. Handling a tough boss eventually gets learnt only in the corporate world outside. The real world also teaches us to handle errant subordinates whose emotional blackmail upon reporting for work after a spell of French leave needs deft handling. The harsh realities of business world provide a high quality learning which can surely not be replicated within the stifling confines of a classroom.

The dashers and the rabbits

In fact, for some of those who formed the batch of 1977, the beautifully laid out campus outside provided a far better laboratory to test their hypotheses on the softer matters of the heart. These were the chosen ones who were smitten by the tender arrows of a smart Cupid.

The snag in the business of falling in love is much like that of mixed up career choices. Take an introvert and put him in a marketing assignment and the results could be disastrous. Take an extrovert used to making tall claims and put him in charge of manufacturing. The customers could soon melt away, leaving the company grappling with a credibility gap.

Same is the case in matters of love. As per the Bertie Wooster doctrine:

“….parties of the first part so often get mixed up with the wrong parties of the second part, robbed of their cooler judgment by the parties of the second part’s glamour. Put it like this. The male sex is divided into rabbits and non-rabbits and the female sex into dashers and dormice, and the trouble is that the male rabbit has a way of getting attracted by a female dasher (who would be fine for the male non-rabbit) and realizing too late that he ought to have been concentrating on some mild, gentle dormouse with whom he could settle down peacefully and nibble lettuce.”

The USP of the Class of 1977

The batch of 1977 had as many as five members of the tribe of the delicately nurtured. Since the previous one, the Class of 1976, had none, they were the cynosure of all eyes. They were invariably the prime focus of attention for many of us in the batch of 1976. All we seniors required was an inane excuse to pop up and try to grab the attention of at least one out of the five pairs of eyes we could feast on. The faculty members simply loved them – not necessarily for their academic proficiency, but merely for ensuring some discipline amongst the men folk loitering around.

Some of the members of our tribe of the so-called sterner sex were the shy and silent kind. Some were busy chasing their academic pursuits and kept their hormones under check. Others were benignly interested but limited their interactions to admiring gazes alone. Very few were the dashing types who, their puny chests all puffed up, attempted to indicate a more than passing interest in the parties of the other part.

Managed walks down the aisle

Those were traditional times when the distinction between an ‘arranged marriage’, a ‘love marriage’ and a ‘love marriage which had to be managed’ was pretty clear. Live-in relationships were not heard of.

The majority amongst us believed in the straight and narrow path that life offered then – the comfort of an ‘arranged marriage’ where the parents take the flak for subsequent problems, if any, and where love blossomed, albeit hesitatingly in some cases, much after the walk down the aisle took place. The time on the campus was, therefore, used by the members of this tribe merely to exchange furtive glances, suffer the pangs of transient infatuations and a silent admiration for the physical profile of the party of the other part.

Then there were the dashing types, the risk takers who could use their time on the campus to firm up their affection for each other and concoct some dreamy plans for their future together. To avoid inquisitive and prying eyes, they would often vanish in thin air, possibly to land in such distant locales as the Sukhna Lake or the Rose Garden.

Management knowledge put to loving use

These were indeed the souls which put most of their management knowledge to actual use. No manual has been published till now, but it is clear that strategic decisions were taken by them with due diligence. Flawless planning and execution followed. Regression Analysis was applied to ensure that respective parents fell in line with the wishes of their wards. Soft-nosed commerce was used to draw up joint P&L Accounts and Balance Sheet, so the planned merger would face little financial turbulence. Principles of Materials Management were applied to ensure that the eventual stock transfer of one party to the abode of the party of the other part was carried out in a smooth and cordial fashion. Inspiration was drawn from a random sample of other couples who had successfully handled their affairs in an exemplary fashion.

Managing the Affairs of the Heart

Cupid, when it chooses to strike, is pretty democratic in nature. If one of the Class of 1977 decided to hitch her lot with a classmate of hers, yet another signed and sealed a merger deal with a senior of the Class of 1976. Both lived happily thereafter!

Close to forty years down the road, looking at the success of these mergers and alliances, it is highly regrettable that management academics still continue to adopt the stiff-upper-lip approach which focuses on analytical skills alone.

A day should surely dawn when ‘Managing the Affairs of the Heart’ gets introduced as a compulsory full semester subject across all management institutes; a time when doctoral theses on such subjects shall be encouraged.

After all, there are as many management lessons to be drawn from the works of Shakespeare, Thomas Hardy, P G Wodehouse, O Henry and Jane Austen as can be gleaned from the tomes dished out by such luminaries as Peter F Drucker, McGregor and Philip Kotler.

(Related Posts:

https://ashokbhatia.wordpress.com/2016/10/01/the-class-of-1976-how-it-managed-to-get-suspended-for-a-week

https://ashokbhatia.wordpress.com/2016/12/25/the-class-of-1990-how-ubs-prompted-sandeep-mann-to-learn-management-from-movies)

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The Class of 1976: Some pseudo-academic pursuits

Besides perfecting the art of getting suspended, organizing musical events and assisting in the successful launch of such cult classic movies like Sholay, the Class of 1976 also indulged in various pseudo-academic pursuits.

These included holding pan-Indian conferences in the pre-Jurassic days when not many money-gobbling dinosaur-like management institutes with a dubious pedeagogy happened to be clogging our streets.

Participation in elocution contests and winning trophies for the Alma Mater was a routine affair. So was attending professional events in New Delhi, holding a bridge championship, organizing a quiz contest and such other endeavours.

Maruti was then being heralded as a fulfilment of the common man’s transport ambitions. A detailed market survey based on ‘product attribute analysis’ was conducted, the results of which were eagerly lapped up by the Automobile Association of India.

Here are some details of the pseudo-academic endeavours of the gang of 1976.

A confluence of management intellectuals

The year 1975-76 saw the gang hosting the first-ever All India Management Convention. Studious beaks drawn from all over the country got together in the sylvan surroundings of the Sector 14 campus. The Chandigarh Meterological Department was none too pleased with the high concentration of Intellectual Sulfide and Managerial Monoxide in the air.

After a painstaking research to collate information on the Management Institutes in India, one was appalled to discover that the total number of such august bodies was less than forty. With detailed planning and fleet-footed follow-up, around ten odd institutes decided to send their teams to the event. This included XLRI Jamshedpur and FMS Delhi, besides several others from all parts of India.

A cultural evening was held to showcase the soft power of UBS. However, a fashion show planned as a part of the fixture had to be scratched due to two reasons – a stiff-upper-lip attitude of the powers-that-were, and the sheer absence of participation from the tribe of the delicately nurtured.

One often wonders if this initiative of the 1976 batch was ever replicated by any of the subsequent batches over the past four decades, that is from 1976 till 2016. If so, it would be nice for one to stand corrected on the issue.

Bridging the intellectual divide

Incidentally, the gang of 1976 had five/six avid, die-hard bridge enthusiasts who burned many a midnight oil perfecting their skills in this unique game of patience, anticipation, mind-reading and clairvoyance.

A bridge championship open to all departments of Panjab University was duly held and was a resounding success.

Revitalizing the grey cells

Yet another initiative of the gang was a quiz competition open to teams from all departments of Panjab University campus.

This one, too, had several teams participating and created tremendous interest, excitement and buzz. It saw a nail-biting close finish.

Maruti and the Third Law of Academics

Some of you may be aware that, much like Newton’s Third Law of Motion, there exists a Third Law of Academics. It stipulates that ‘For every teacher who is not able to do justice to the subject at hand, there exist students who react by learning the subject with much gusto, entirely of their own initiative’. Their curiosity gets aroused. They try to read as much as they can. The end result is that they end up being passionate about the subject. Some even go on to build their careers around the same.

The Class of 1976 was no exception to this rule. Fundamentals of Market Research were handled in such a manner by the honourable faculty member concerned – may God bless his soul – that some members of the gang became quite passionate about the subject.

Learning from Philip Kotler

The launch of a Maruti car – touted then as a ‘peoples’ car at a price point of Rs 25,000 apiece – was in the offing. One of the groups decided to take up a market survey exercise. Mind you, this was not the kind which was done while sipping coffee with one’s female companion of the times at the Student Centre. This one involved real field work, burning of the proverbial midnight oil and lots of brains and brawn.

Principles of marketing laid bare by Philip Kotler were perused with a heightened degree of interest. Based on the sector scheme of the City Beautiful, a stratified random sampling was made. A preliminary survey led to the identification of some twenty five odd passenger car attributes. The master survey then followed, based on a questionnaire which was duly pre-tested. Unsuspecting citizens were pounced at at all hours.

Digestive troubles and Fortran

Those were simpler times, sans mobile phones and internet. Gaining entry into households was not a difficult task, save and except houses where members of the canine species resented the arrival of strangers and were not too amused with the proceedings. In many households, hospitality was awesome. Some of the field workers had a problem with their digestive systems, what with having been forced to gulp tea, butter milk and cold drinks at different houses within a matter of a few hours.

A sub-group of super-intelligent members of the group were tasked with writing a Fortran-based computer program which could analyse data along twenty five different dimensions. Members of the group were afloat with punching cards, used those days for feeding data into the single computer the entire university boasted of.

The inner glow of satisfaction

The end result of a survey of about 125 households was the brand mapping of Ambassador, Fiat and Standard cars in a twenty five dimensional space. The ideal point in this space was identified. Speculation was made as to how close the yet-to-be-launched Maruti would be to this ideal point.

Academic scoring apart, the exercise gave immense inner satisfaction to those involved. The Automobile Association of India, when contacted, was happy to publish the results in its journal.

The Third Law of Academics was thus validated. One does not know if Philip Kotler ever got to know what he had inspired in us lesser mortals, but the faculty involved with such subjects as Marketing, Market Research and Statistics was apparently happy with the results.

DRISHTIKONE 1987

The germs of conventionitis resurfaced some eleven years later.

During November 1987, in association with friends from other batches, a management convention was organized at the Siri Fort Auditorium in New Delhi.

This event was also a resounding success. Besides business leaders and management professionals of all hues, it saw an active participation from the UBS faculty as well.

Burnishing Brand UBS

All such pursuits perhaps helped one to shape one’s intellect even better than the academic course one was mandated to undergo. The art of event management was learnt. The value of networking was appreciated. In the process, Brand UBS got a new sheen.

(Inputs from Lalit Kapur are gratefully acknowledged)

(Related posts:

https://ashokbhatia.wordpress.com/2016/10/01/the-class-of-1976-how-it-managed-to-get-suspended-for-a-week

https://ashokbhatia.wordpress.com/2016/10/09/the-class-of-1976-some-encounters-of-a-musical-kind

https://ashokbhatia.wordpress.com/2016/11/01/the-class-of-1976-forging-the-lingering-bonds-of-friendship)

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The Class of 1976: Forging the lingering bonds of friendship

One of the major rewards of being a part of the gang of 1976 has been the kind of strong and resilient bonds of friendship one has been able to forge. Bonds which have survived the harsh slings and arrows of Life. Bonds which are like underground cable connections – dormant, but in place, ready to be reactivated as and when necessary.

Way back in the 1970s, UBS was an integral part of what was then known as the Department of Commerce and Business Management. Students of the Commerce stream would tend to treat the ones from the Management stream with some degree of awe, though laced with not-so-healthy contempt. Some lecturers from the Commerce side regularly put on a tie, trooped down to the ground floor, and shared their wisdom in de-mystifying balance sheets and cash flows with the Management students.

How friends made me gate-crash, cruise through, and then leave UBS

For one of the university management outfits ranked as number one in India then, it could have surely done without having to grant admission to someone of such a low calibre and managerial potential as yours truly.

But fate had other plans. Thanks to some postmen and a bunch of caring friends and well-wishers, yours truly did manage to worm his way into the not-so-hallowed portals of UBS.

Friends made then assured a lively stay on the campus, notwithstanding the dinghy hostel corridors and the tepid food dished out by the canteen contractors.

Friends also ensured that one got evicted from the system in due course of time, despite a Bollywood-style road accident which almost prevented one from taking all the examinations scheduled in the final semester on the campus.

UBS surely heaved a sigh of relief when yours truly boarded an outbound train and headed to one of the metros on a job-hunting spree.

This is how the saga unfolded.

Worming one’s way into UBS

Rewind to December 1973. A nation-wide strike of postmen ensured that a letter from IIM Ahmedabad asking yours truly to attend a group discussion and interview never made its way to me at Delhi University where I was busy pursuing my M. Sc. in Physics.

In the first quarter of 1974, a similar call letter from UBS was about to be summarily ignored. But two close friends finally managed to persuade me to catch an overnight bus to Chandigarh. My argument – that an important laboratory examination scheduled at Delhi University on the very following day could go for a toss – fell on deaf ears.

When a somewhat groggy me reached the hostel where a 1974 batch friend was staying, the latter was dumbfounded to discover that I planned to attend the group discussion and interview in our national dress – a simple pyjama and kurta. Prompt arrangements were made by him to borrow a corporate style dress. A crash course was conducted on the fundamental particles which govern the technique of participating in a group discussion. Thus, suitably dressed and armed, I was led to the UBS entrance, much like a reluctant lamb about to be slaughtered.

The rest, as you would put it, is history. By evening, it became clear that UBS had had the misfortune of taking yours truly in its fold, howsoever grudgingly.

Resistance on the family side was gradually overcome. A property had to be liquidated by my parents so that a part of the proceeds could be used to finance my further education. In July 1974, the session began in right earnest.

Cruising through the university eco-system

Surviving the hostel food

The tyranny of the hostel canteen food – a relentless serving of raajma-chaawal ad nauseam – had to be overcome. Late night visits to gobble up greasy omelettes and bread slices topped with half of an Amul butter pack offered at the hand carts opposite the PGI gate were looked forward to. On Sunday mornings, delicious breakfasts served at the nearby PEC canteen were put down the hatch with a flourish.

With the help of a friend, a make-shift cooking arrangement was made in the hostel room of yours truly. Yet another friend pitched in with his procurement and logistics services.

Yummy omelettes followed by senwai-ki-kheer were often whipped up, leaving several of our hostel mates green with envy. Some others, unable to resist the aroma wafting around in the corridor, did attempt to replicate the endeavour in their own rooms, each with a varying degree of success.

The Sholay magic

After having been through the rigours of Einstein’s Theory of Relativity and mind-numbing formulae of quantum mechanics, management subjects were relatively easy on the grey matter. Routine trips to movie halls boosted up their revenues somewhat. The highlight was the release of the movie Sholay at Jagat theatre. One did not realize then that box-office history was in the making.

A batch mate, ostensibly the only one who ever maintained a car while staying at the hostel, belonged to the family which owned two movie halls in the city, Jagat being one of those. One day, having seen the first day, first show, he came back hugely excited and was all praise for the Hollywood-style pacy, action thriller. So much so that he picked six of his batch mates in his Fiat car to watch the late evening show of the movie.

Much to our dismay, the hall was fully booked. But lo and behold, out came six chairs, placed on the aisle, for this bunch of crazy cine goers , a VVIP treat, courtesy the batch mate.

An exciting time for the automobile industry

The car owned by this particular batch mate was a source of perennial fun for many of the 1976 gang. We had endless sojourns, exciting trips and fun-filled days and nights exploring the City Beautiful and its neighborhood in the Fiat – the then Empress of the road. (The then Emperor being the strong and sturdy Ambassador car). A test model of Maruti was just in the offing, at a price point of Rs. 25,000 each!

Once in a while, nocturnal visits to Morni Hills cheered us up no end. So were visits to Sukhna Lake, Kasauli and Shimla. Rock Garden was just about beginning to take shape.

Shaping the intellect

The hostel room of yours truly also doubled up as a mini lecture hall. The door of the cupboard served as a blackboard. Classmates who had been busy – either with juicier escapades elsewhere on the campus or had been mentally absent when a lecture was getting delivered – made it a habit of trooping in to improve their intellect.

The trauma and the relief

The trauma of the final semester examinations eventually caught up with us. A friend from the 1975 batch offered to share some of his class notes with us. A mobike trip was made to his house nearby. However, on our way back, a wayward cyclist hit us near the Sector 15 market.

In my whole life so far, this was the first time I experienced a complete erasure of memory and a blackout which lasted a whole night. Much like in a Bollywood scenario, I came to my senses the next morning while reclining on my bed in the hostel room, only to ask in a feeble voice, ‘Where am I?’. Concerned friends had spent their entire night sitting by my side, keeping an eagle eye on my condition. They were quite relieved when I did not ask the dreaded question, ‘Who am I?’

With the final examinations due to start within a day’s time, a process of reverse coaching started, where I was at the receiving end. Groggy, unfocused and in a dazed condition, I was somehow made to take the Business Policy examination. Rest of the examinations followed in quick succession and were a bit challenging to the frayed nerves. End of examinations always calls for a celebration. This one was even more so.

The bonds that linger

These are but some of the memories one cherishes. All of us have a unique story of our own – that of entering, cruising through, and exiting the MBA program of Panjab University. Of the friends we made and the cliques we were a part of. Of the acts we indulged in, whether glorified or goofy.

UBS played the role of an airport on which our individual planes taxied for some time and finally took off. Some became entrepreneurs. Some soared to great heights in their chosen career.

Wherever they happen to be, and whatever the time-lapse, the lingering bonds of friendship endure. Regular get togethers are not essential, but highly desirable. These do help us to keep the embers of friendship glowing.

(Inputs from Lalit Kapur and Kul Bhushan Khullar are gratefully acknowledged)

(Related posts:

https://ashokbhatia.wordpress.com/2016/10/01/the-class-of-1976-how-it-managed-to-get-suspended-for-a-week

https://ashokbhatia.wordpress.com/2016/10/09/the-class-of-1976-some-encounters-of-a-musical-kind

https://ashokbhatia.wordpress.com/2013/09/04/an-ode-to-our-teachers

https://ashokbhatia.wordpress.com/2014/06/01/revisiting-the-alma-mater)

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The Class of 1976: Some encounters of a musical kind

The gang of twenty-five wannabe managers, when it entered the not-so-hallowed precincts of the University Business School of Panjab University, Chandigarh in the year 1974, was clueless as to the effective use to which the power of music could be put to practice the art of managing people.

Much later in their careers, some members of the gang might have woken up to the immense potential of healthy musical practices when it came to surviving in the corporate jungle. Some would have soared higher whistling the tune that their bosses wanted to hear from them. Others would have become great leaders based on the results their teams produced, much like an orchestra gets led by a conductor to produce mellifluous symphonies.

Some might have perfected the art of phasing out dissent from their team members by the sheer power of their vocal chords, not alike the way even soulful lyrics get drowned by loud music in some of our best movies these days. Others might have formed a Mutual Appreciation Team by bonding with like-minded colleagues, much like a group of star artistes who transcend man-made borders to come up with their own brand of fusion music.

When faced with a challenging task, an informal chat, especially when conducted in the presence of appropriate tissue restoratives, duly backed by some soothing music playing in the background, often helps.

Discovering the Music Society

Two members of the gang, however, stood out. Having spent much of their previous years in understanding and memorizing basic principles of Physics and Chemical Engineering, a course in business administration gave their grey cells some well-deserved breathing time. Soon, they discovered the presence of a Music Society on the campus. Prompted by another musical soul from the 1973-75 batch, they joined the music classes on offer.

One aspired to learn playing the sarangi, while another, yours truly, weakly attempted to master the art of playing a guitar. Friends and critics obviously had their doubts on the efficacy of our musical endeavours. Luckily, they were too busy with their own lives to continue to watch our progress with any interest whatsoever.

On a personal note

Allow me to digress a wee bit and divulge that since childhood, my parents had repeatedly failed in their attempts to get me trained in classical vocal music. Subsequently, a banjo was gifted, in the fond hope that I might make something out of it. Alas, that too was not to be. Since there was no Wodehousean kid character like Edwin around, using paraffin sprays to douse fires, the instrument never went up in flames. It merely got lost in the rapids of time.

Eventually, my parents gave up and resigned to my limited capability of belting out some movie songs at birthday parties and some social events.

The original singers of most of these compositions were such stalwarts as Hemant Kumar, Talat Mehmood, Rafi sahib and Kishore Kumar. Luckily enough, none of my attempts to copy them ever reached their ears. Had a calamity of that nature come about, they would still be found shuddering in their graves.

My crude attempts at singing were carefully planned at such locations where donkeys could not have ready access. This way, I avoided the risk of a bunch of them joining me in unison, overjoyed at having finally found a brother-in-notes amongst the Homo Sapiens.

Treks to Kasauli and nocturnal visits to Morni hills nearby provided several other opportunities for me to display my singular lack of vocal skills. I still admire the tenacity and politeness of some of my hapless batch mates who not only tolerated but also applauded such renderings.

The sound of music

The association with Music Society added some colour and spice to the otherwise staid life on the campus. The members were drawn from different departments of the University. During 1975-76, the group even decided to confer on yours truly the title of Chairman, though I still wonder what I had done to deserve the honour.

Two events readily spring to my memory. One was a grand cultural show, where Mrs. Bimla Paul, wife of the then Vice Chancellor of the University, accepted our invitation to be the Chief Guest. The show was named ‘Swar Gunjan’. It was held at the University Auditorium.

Some members performed a Tibetan Yak dance. My batch mate and I, more busy coordinating the back-stage gaffes and on-stage slip-ups, were part of a group which presented an instrumental version of an old song ‘Aayega aane wala…..’ from the movie ‘Mahal’.

Yet another highlight was a bloomer in the shape of a post-card handwritten invitation sent to the inimitable Amjad Ali Khan sahib, requesting him to play at the University. After some time, surely despite our invitation, he did come over to the city and performed at the auditorium of PGI, right opposite the University Campus. Needless to say, that was a veritable treat.

A tool for enriching our lives

Looking back, the key lesson was the importance of indulging in extra-curricular escapades in that unique phase of life. It broke the monotonous tyranny of a class room instruction. It came across as an instructive experience which broadened one’s mental horizons and provided one with a diverse group of people to interact with. One learnt the art of event management, a term which was not in vogue in those internet-less and smart-phone-less times.

One might not have learnt what exactly what one set out to learn, but the spin-offs have surely been a reward in themselves. Above all, a connection with music, howsoever tenuous, got reinforced.

Music is not only a food for the soul. It also nourishes our mind, cleansing it of all the negative toxins which dampen our performance. It enriches our lives in more ways than one. It helps us to have better interpersonal relations. It even helps budding managers and entrepreneurs to achieve their goals more efficiently!

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https://ashokbhatia.wordpress.com/2016/11/01/the-class-of-1976-forging-the-lingering-bonds-of-friendship

https://ashokbhatia.wordpress.com/2014/03/24/music-food-for-the-soul)

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