"I am a free man..."

One internship down, one more year of B school to go. Two months in Mumbai with a week in Pune sandwiched. A plethora of experiences. It still hasnt sunk in that a few days from now I won't be in Makichan Hall anymore. I will miss cribbing about everything possible, the weather, the prices at new Yorker, the bed bugs...

Inspite of two years in Chennai, two months in a big bad city like Mumbai was daunting at first. I guess people come into big new cities with always the same fears. Everyone is out to pickpocket you, auto drivers cheat, cabs are too costly and anything served by the roadside is a local delicacy that is a must have and cheap.

In one week you spew names of pubs and discos like a local veteran. But you still eat the 2 buck rotis at Crystal. It will all change with my stipend you think. One day theres a check in your hand, the next day its almost all gone. A few pitchers later you're back in the red. Your last memories before passing out was Bin Tere Sanam thumping...

A month later you know your Regal from your Eros and you've seen Hellboy twice. Mumbai is a wonderful city you think. So much to do and so little time. And then you spend entire weekends reading second books fresh off the Churchgate footpaths. That is until your roommate got AOC installed on his laptop. A million dead chinese and englishmen later you are back in Oxford bookstore. After three hours you step out eyes strained from speed reading Calvin and Hobbes and that encyclopedia on food. Of course you buy nothing. Your roommate will only lend you so much and no more.

Soon you discover driving around in Suddus car with the AC on is thumping good too. He brings the car, you scrounge for the petrol money. Pune was good fun too. Doctors so much nicer, and the bed bugs made way for Room Service at the Central Park. You think if only I could have the weather from Pune and everything else from Mumbai...

"Main Hoon Na" was great fun. The credits rocked. So did the faccha party. Overjoyed you could launch the new floral shirt there. Heartening to see some of the alum jive. Some bald, some plump but the red bricks shine through... Wimwi thou art eternal...

And then its final presentation time. Laptops are a premium. You decide to do white font on a dark template. PPO in the reckoning you think. Impossible to find a clean shirt in the dump the triple-seater has turned into.

Eight in the evening. Outside the company gate you've signed out for the last time. Sleeves rolled up. Roommate finally lends you a little more. Off to Mondy's. A tiny stammer there, a rushed slide here, a repeated point there. But the VP seemed to like it. "Good show" he said. "PPO" you here. Cause for celebration nonetheless.

And then now in Sai's cybercafe for one of the last times. The blog has served well. Made a lot of people laugh and mail in. Alas now Abu Dhabi awaits with open arms, cheap bottled orange juice and shiny marble floored malls.

I came, I saw, I interned. Mee Mumbaikar?? Maybe a little bit.