Essays

Written by Kittur Nagesh
August 24, 2003

Our batteries were fully charged
So were all our credit cards.
A hefty tuition we had to pay
Tenfold we’d make with our new resume!
From work, we took a week-long hiatus
To make our mark at Park Hyatt. Yes!
Our feet were nimble, not made of clay
Wharton MBA, we knew, wouldn’t be all play.
Thus, from humble beginnings was born Wharton West,
With a laser-like focus, to be the best amongst the best.
That’s how our odyssey began two years ago in San Francisco at the intersection of Battery and Clay, down the blazing trail of rolling backpacks and speeding cabs…. ________________________________________________________________________

Honorable Jon Huntsmann, Dean Harker, Director of Wharton Executive Program Howie Kaufold, Vice Dean Len Lodish, Professors, members of the Wharton network, distinguished guests, family members, and my dear friends:

I humbly accept the opportunity of speaking today, an historic day for all of us and especially to the Class of 2003.We are now in the elite company of leaders like Jon Huntsmann, Lew Platt, Dave Pottruck, and many others as proud graduates of the Wharton School. Many people dedicated a substantial portion of their lives to bring us all to this important juncture. On behalf of the Class of 2003, I would like to sincerely thank the wonderful faculty and administrative staff of the Wharton School. Your vision for Wharton West has blossomed into reality with flying colors.I would like to thank the family members, especially our spouses and kids, for bearing the brunt of our physical and emotional absence with grace, the sponsoring companies for their generous financial support and commitment to our time away from work, and our loyal friends. Thank you all for believing in us, unconditionally supporting us, and for being here today. Last, but not the least, I would like to salute heroic classmates, such as Alan Armstrong, who are fighting for a noble cause in Iraq while putting their graduation on hold.

Over the last two years, we were privileged to learn from words or deeds of wisdom that great men and women articulated or acted upon. Several such luminaries are in this room today. Indeed, quite a few are my beloved friends from the cherished Class of 2003. Over the last two years we repeatedly jumped out of a well of ignorance and immersed ourselves in a flowing stream of knowledge. What a great escape it was! However, the world around us was changing constantly. The dot-com bust, the tragedies of 9/11, the ongoing war on terrorism, the accounting scandals at Enron, Tyco, and WorldCom, the economic recession, the weakening dollar, and the SARS epidemic, just to name a few. We survived and adapted to them all. In this context, I would like to emphasize it is not an accident that none of the executives in trouble is a Wharton MBA!

On the flip side, alas, just as our teams at work were getting used to our absence on Fridays and Saturdays, just as our families were getting used to us not performing any household chores, we have to get back to those normal routines. If only there were a PhD program at Wharton West…. I am sure Naveed would be the first to enroll to earn his second PhD!

Today, Wharton is a step closer to building a boundary-less institution. The Wharton leaders took the calculated risk of pioneering high quality MBA education and community collaboration coast-to-coast despite the economic downturn.Many educators have echoed that education is the progressive discovery of our ignorance and the critical global equalizer. I firmly believe that as these notions become pervasive, the value of a Wharton education will solidify even further. Let us give a big round of applause to the Wharton leadership and administrative team for achieving the first major milestone, our graduation, in a stellar manner!

To call ourselves pioneers may be too strong for the Class of 2003. The successful, well-honed Wharton system was already in place for us. However, as marketers, we shall attach that brand to ourselves anyway! The destination was seldom in doubt but I am sure you will all agree that our odyssey has been simultaneously demanding, rewarding, and humbling.

It was demanding as we balanced time, money, and studies with family and work. Somehow we had to free up 20-35 hours per week for Wharton work. We, along with our families, made numerous sacrifices, jumped over numerous hurdles, and climbed out of holes that we occasionally dug ourselves into, in order to arrive at this juncture in our lives. We successfully demonstrated our commitment to a lifetime of learning. We truly can take pride in it.

The odyssey has been unquestionably rewarding. With every intermediate milestone we celebrated there was a sparkle in our eyes. While psychological openness may not always be a virtue, we have successfully bonded, cultivated, and hopefully harvested, the benefits of deep-rooted friendships with several classmates. Author Sara Grand said “Our opinion of people depends less upon what we see in them than upon what they make us see in ourselves.” I strongly believe that the Class of 2003 is an epitome of this magical truth. It was rewarding to discover and rediscover ourselves as we fortified friendships through countless hours of project work and the numerous parties and social events. The dialogs from the movie “My Big Fat Greek Wedding”, which I saw during one of our social evenings, have become part of my family vocabulary. And for those, like me, who do not know Greek, Mori comes from the Greek root “morvarid” which means party planner, while Tamara comes from the Greek root “tamasha”, which means fun. There you go. Mori, Tammy, and others at the party headquarters please accept our sincere thanks for integrating and orchestrating fun into our learning over the last two years.

It was rewarding to build a portfolio of jokes and anecdotes from our Wharton experience. Let me share one anecdote that stands out for me. I remember on the eve of the Speculative Markets finals, my manager, Shah Talukder, who has an MBA from Kellogg, insisted I go home early to study. I immediately quipped, “Thank you Shah for recognizing that exams at Wharton are tougher than those at Kellogg!” He still remembers that comment but hasn’t taken it out on me! Shah, thank you for coming today.

Finally, the odyssey was humbling as the experience showed us our vulnerabilities in the midst of brilliant classmates and teachers. In one class while I had barely comprehended what the axes on a graph meant, there was Naveed asking a question “How do the coefficients from a multi-variate regression on sales relate to these trends?” It was humbling in the accounting exam. While I struggled to complete three out of four questions I saw Laura walk out half an hour early but still aced the test. Friends, may God speed be always with you!

I would like to spend a couple minutes talking about the legacy of the Class of 2003.

Out of the hard work of the last two years, or should I say six demanding terms, has emerged our intellectual and business freedom to pursue our dreams and desires. We have raised the bar for the future Wharton West students to emulate and excel in the areas of academics, cultural integration, camaraderie, self-discovery, and of course, sensible partying. However, we cannot forget that a Wharton degree comes with its embodiment of values, privileges, responsibilities, behaviors, and actions.

The legacy of the Class of 2003 is not behind us; instead it lies ahead of us as a clear consequence of all our actions.Our legacy will manifest in things small and big we do or create. Nothing will be granted to us. Our legacy will show in how we chart our new courses in our personal and professional lives. Some of us, I am sure, will do so together.The combined business and personal skills, the camaraderie, and the bonds of trust we built have created dynamite groups and potential start-ups ready to lift off.May be it is the innovative, rapidly charging battery that Vinay was contemplating, or the biotech and genetic engineering that Ian is looking at. May be it is the real-estate opportunity that Laura is passionate about or the highly-resilient storage network that Srihari is venturing into. May be it is the stand-up comedy routine that Sivaram is crafting! I am confident that some of the ideas my classmates have will reshape our lives while creating wealth and happiness.

Although we may take from the Wharton network, our legacy will show in what we give to it. Although we may recruit non-Wharton MBAs, our legacy will show in the subliminal preferences we may show to the Wharton graduates. It will show when we are introduced as a Wharton MBA. It will show in the articles and papers or even books we may write. Or when we come back to the Wharton School as an executive speaker, a big donor, or even as an adjunct teacher. It will show not only in the estates we build for our families but also in the endowments and trusts we help develop and nurture, including the Wharton Endowment.

I would like to close with a quote from Franklin Roosevelt “We have always held to the hope, the belief, the conviction that there is a better life, a better world, beyond the horizon.” As the economy recovers, let us challenge ourselves, seize the day, and make things happen!

Thank you very much for your attention. I wish you all the very best in all your endeavors, both professional and personal. Congratulations and God bless America!

Down the blazing trail of barren sands I walked, in utter defiance of the world’s disdain towards people of honest worth.

Thoughts ranging from childhoold innocence to venerable old age, passing through youthful exuberance, family joys and sorrows, all drifted simultaneously into oblivion as the sands bestowed upon me showers of welcome into this lonely land. But my thoughts drifted only to bounce back….

Annoyed at the monotony of life, I had taken this decisive step of seeking solace in solitude. Solitude is bilss, Wordsworth had said. But thoughts of the world I was born in, the world I grew up in, the world of people I was moving away from, never really departed from my mind. I felt a clear isolation between the body and my mind, solitude was only a mirage….

The sun dipped low and gradually darkness crept in giving vent to my silent anger. All my sincere strife to free myself from the envelope of worldly thoughts surrounding me was in vain. Mental repose was totally ruled out. Poetry, short and sweet, and the poetic world, was my only hope. I let loose my vagabond mind.

I said to myself, poetry is immortal and needs no rejuvenation – unlike the Phoenix, the bird rejunvenated from the burnt ashes. I was the world and the world was me as poetry took control of my mind.

I trod on unwalked paths and walked on the repeatedly trod; on lands unseen and rare, lands in my memory bare – the lands the poets took me to. Shakespeare and Milton, Byron and Shelley, Wordsworth and Keats, streamed across my horizon telling me tales of love and life, valor and death, Nature and man. The melancholy seen in life and the symphony heard abundantly in Nature took me into realms of bounteous truth; and a missionary zeal invaded my mind.

Miles of sand stretched behind me. At last, I reached a serene oasis. My sweating body longed for water and my tongue perspired in eager expectation. I bent down, and my glasses dropped off my nose. I was blind. I dived, struggled and came out gasping for breath. Wiping my face, I put on my glasses. I regained my lost vision. The haze before me gradually drifted away….

I realized my folly of being blind to reality. But still, I wait for the lonely night to converse with the poets to whom I write as I see the dawn of dusk:

You speak volumes
in your still silence
while I waste words talking nothing.

I realized it at last.
And now,
When I want to talk sense
I go to my table and
Write a silent verse.

Fewer crackers and purchases and a dull mood marked this year’s Diwali – the festival of lights.

I kept moving about like an aimless horse, eating sweets wherever offered and shutting my ears at the sight of “atom bombs.” The gunpowder smell was nauseating bringing to mind F-16s and Mirage 2000s. I cursed the Chinese for their “senseless” invention that has given the world such a transient nature.

I tried making myself aware of the surroundings, talking to people around me. “Prices have doubled” all say. “We have become sensible,” some claimed. I also met a considerable number of people who were ecstatic. “Diwali comes only once a year and at least for one day we are happy. We seldom worry about the high prices,” they drove home their point.

My neighbor was sad and talked of his children who had died in the circus tragedy. “Diwali was a pleasure when they were alive,” he wept. For some, watching the wobbling film stars on their new TV offers great pleasure.

Others had “unbelievable but true” sources of annoyance. For some, Bangalore Water Supply was the culprit. “No water,” they wailed. The traditional oil bath was ruled out. A light shampoo bath was all they could afford, and even this emptied their “store wells.”

For the children, the epitome of innocence, the weather was the source of all trouble. Chilly weather and a persistent mild drizzle, with occasional heavy showers spoilt their mood. “The crackers have become wet and fail to explode,” they cried.

I then walked into the area of the affluent. They were the least affected. They burnt fire crackers in lengthy chains, watched TV, ate a variety of sweets, danced to stereo music, and talked about Amitabh Bachchan. The “water man” walks into their houses and collects money – “fee” for uninterrupted water supply. The rich man’s life made a study in contrast to my previous observations.

I visited my maid’s house. She had, with immense love, invited me to her “small house.” A small clay lamp lit in front of Lord Ganesha’s picture glowed silently. Sweets ate I and took leave of her. Past seven in the evening, I returned home with an evening daily.

“Bendre dead,” read a headline. Another beside said “Baby born in a bus.” A mixture of joy and sorrow I swallowed and sat on my terrace watching the launching of hundreds of “Aryabhatas” and “Bhaskaras” and their parabolic motion. Stars momentarily exploded in the sky.

The night became still and I went into silent sleep.

The next morning I woke up to find the sweeper cleaning the streets. Heaps of paper were visible all over. My neighbor gave the sweeper a packet of sweets which she smilingly accepted. Another neighbor gave her a packet of fire crackers. She said, “Give me some sweets or snacks. My children can eat them. If you give me fire crackers, my children will only dirty the streets and the sweeper down my lane will have more work to do.”

I was stunned by her magnanimity. A mild drizzle takes me indoors. I am at my table instinctively, involuntarily….

Back in Bangalore after a hiatus of 17 years, Kittur Nagesh is instantly at home in the city and well-informed about what’s happening where, thanks to his morning jog in Lalbagh, Bangalore.

This article was published in Deccan Herald Newspaper, Bangalore, India.

Every time I visit Bangalore I get into a morning rhythm of jogging in the “still-beautiful” Lalbagh. This month I suddenly realized that what happens in the mornings at Lalbagh is a microcosm of life in the city. I have effortlessly acquired immense knowledge during my morning jogs in a multitude of areas. From politics to personal matters, from match fixing in cricket to match fixing in real life, from technology to new TV channels, the list goes on.

During my morning jogs, I have involuntarily listened to daily conversations and discovered that people who visit Lalbagh fit into four major groups, — the “Just Do It”, the “Baby boomers”, the “MTR”, and the “Twilight at dawn” groups. Each group has its own unique profile, exercise regimen, and conversation interests, and uses specific areas of the park.
The “Just Do It” group is the under-35, Nike group. Members of this group dress in Nike or Reebok or Calvin Klein coordinated gear with an occasional cap, sport a good pair of sneakers, form many girl-boy teams, are interested in information technology, enjoy cricket, and typically jog around the lake, the innermost loop. Some younger members wear their jackets and fleece regardless of the weather conditions and spend over 10 minutes warming up in public! The Chicago Bulls jackets have given way to the LA Lakers jackets. Singles in this group blaze trails that provide opportunities for romantic interludes! The Nike group seldom arrives at the park before 6 A.M. as one of the implicit goals is to target exercise during prime time!

Profound statements come easily to the Nike group. For example, “Don’t bother to watch the game! There will be two run outs and we will lose by 16 runs” is pregnant with meaning about match fixing in cricket. I, being a professional in the networking field in the USA, was touched by the statement: “B2B now means Back to Bangalore” which captures the impact of economic downturn in the IT industry. Thanks to my morning jog, I attended the inauguration of a beautiful technology park on Mysore Road and even managed a two-minute chat with our honorable Chief Minister S.M. Krishna!

The “baby boomers” are in their late 40s or early 50s. Members of this group dress in regular shirt and pants, listen to Radio City to feel young, are worried about how to make enough money before their (two) kids graduate from college, and typically walk the sand trails amidst the trees. Some members of this group display a noticeable paunch and carry a baton to ward off stray dogs. This group usually arrives at the park just before 6 A.M.

For the baby boomers, discussions related to family matters, health, and business dealings take precedence over politics and sports. For example, “If they don’t respect my family, we will not respect their family” speaks volumes about a possible infighting. This group is conscious about health as evidenced by “100 is OK. But 110 you should be careful.” I am convinced this is a snippet from a discussion on diabetes and fasting blood sugar level. I was also impressed by the upper bound being 110, rather than 120, similar to the level recommended in the USA.

Finally, this group is an avid purchaser of sites in and around the city. One gentleman was bemoaning “My 40×60 site was actually only 38×58. The promoters easily created a few extra sites by cheating the members.”
The MTR group uses the park merely as a place of assembly rather than for any exercise. After the assembly around 7 A.M. and a few warm greetings, this group takes the shortest path to the MTR restaurant for guilt-free, sumptuous breakfast and coffee. People from all age ranges belong to this group!

The “Twilight at dawn” group consists of senior citizens who are 60 and over. The members of this group dress in traditional Indian dress with men wearing dhotis and women wearing sarees and are at the park well before 5:30 A.M. Those who have visited the USA, wear coordinated name-brand jogging suits, try to walk briskly and lead the pack. Some men use walking sticks for extra support while certain women, unfortunately, don’t mind limping along without any walking aids. (I have never understood the reticence of elderly women to using walking sticks!) The members usually take the asphalt roads within Lalbagh and in many instances sit down on the benches along the way.

The singles in this group listen to classical music on their walkman sets. While exercising, some members have a tendency to clap and let the sound reverberate amidst the trees while others join the yoga session near the glass house.
In general, the twilight group gets involved in highly emotionally charged discussions such as “match fixing.” They go out of the way to identify potential grooms and brides and weigh the pros and cons of the alliances they have in mind. “Mr. X is no good. He smokes a lot.” Families where the elders are not treated with respect are also a hot, but sad, topic. I have overheard many “twilighters” lament: “I have sinned in my past life to get this sort of treatment from my son”, or “My daughter-in-law goes to Baskin Robbins regularly with her parents, but not once has she invited me.”

In summary, I have to admit that every evening I long for my morning jog in Lalbagh. In just a month, I have felt totally connected with the rest of Bangalore and hardly feel like one that has been away for over 17 years. With only a week to go before my return to the USA, I will start my daily jog with the Nike group and end it with the MTR group! But no romantic interludes as I am a happily married man!

“Fools rush in where angels fear to tread”, said Pope, and this I quoted every time I saw people waiting for the BTS buses. I considered travel by BTS buses insipid and monotonous and developed an insatiable thirst for cycling. But, thanks to the BCC, the BWSSB, and the KEB, all working cyclically throughout the year on the City roads, I quit pedaling and started traveling exclusively by BTS buses.

On numerous occasions, I have condemned my friends for wasting their youthful energy in waiting for the unreliable BTAS buses. “Pedal and simultaneously exercise, save time” I used to say. Agreed. But then, I got fed up with taking my dear bike frequently to the doctor for treatment of the ulcers on the bladder. In fact, I was doing more of walking than cycling! In addition, I would any day prefer to strain my tough limbs (the result of years of cycling?) to my weak back and my weaker bike.

Believe me, just a couple of weeks of continuous bus travel has made me repent for not having taken to it still earlier. I have inculcated an eternal sense of “over punctuality.” I leave my house at least an hour and a half before college time and this has given impetus to my morning chores. I have clearly realized that man learns to appreciate life, thus, justifying his living in this world, only by living amidst people, people, and more people.

With people from all walks of life thronging the BTS buses, I now wonder why BTS has not been named “Behavior Training School” and why people have not made use of the services of the BTS to tutor their wards in moral and social sciences.

Just observe the romantic interludes, the exciting scuffles, the authoritative political talks and debates, etc. and the adventures on the foot board. These offer a plethora of opportunities to study human behavior and in a few days you’ll be able to sketch the character of the persons and you’ll start questioning whether solitude is the school of the genius!

I have started off with a bang and “trained” at least one person in human sciences inside the BTS buses. In the process, I too have learnt a few valuable lessons and effortlessly digested the implications of “tradition”, “generation gap”, etc., on our daily life.

My nephew Shekar, who has only this year entered college, wanted to understand tradition, generation gap, westernism, and wanted ta few tips in behavior amidst women.

I paid the requisite tuition and procured admission to the Behavior Training School. I apprised Shekar of its dynamism and advised him to keep his eyes and ears wide open. To avoid jerks and simultaneously study the women, we occupied one of the front rows marked “Ladies.” (But Bangalore isn’t Madras; so this is not a problem!). Shekar was unable to imagine why our women stood in the front hanging dangerously to the support handles and straps when rows of seats were partially empty in the rear. A couple women walked straight towards us expecting us to vacate our seats.

I felt sad and said to one of them in Kannada “M’am, there are plenty of seats in the back.”

She harshly replied. “Mind your business. If you are willing to vacate, vacate.” (literal translation from local Kannada). I kept mum and struck to my seat. Shekar, horrified by her reply vacated his seat only to occupy after a short interval, as no woman sat beside me! (just a boy in the early twenties, let alone a man of marriageable age!)

A few days later Shekar, and of course I, was surprised when a pregnant lady, sweating profusely, failed to occupy a seat beside a man sitting in one of the front rows. Irritated by the behavior of the women, at home Shekar asked my sister “why is it that you girls don’t sit next to men in buses, even when the seats are empty?” Probably Shekar wanted an explanation straight from the filly’s mouth; hence, he didn’t ask me the question. “Tradition”, explained my sister.

“What have you learned so far?” I asked Shekar. “Never irritate a lady, and beware, your consideration for a fat lady might be mistaken”, smilingly he shot back.

Throughout Shekar’s schooling in the BTS buses, I tried my best to occupy the front rows with Shekar preferably behind. Once, a girl in a bottom-hugging-jeans sat beside me (a filmy coincidence?). The bus had hardly moved when she commented in English, adjusting her rectangular glasses. “It’s too sultry” and a short while later asked “May I know the time” and adjusted her watch. Encountered once again by Shekar’s probing questions, at home, my sister remarked, “Generation gap.” But Shekar wasn’t convinced.

However, he admitted having learnt a second lesson. Can take a few liberties with modern girls. Can talk about the weather, the Sun and the Moon. Can ask the time and adjust the watch.

The next time at school, Shekar pressed me to experiment; behavior study is a better phrase. Reluctantly, I accepted the challenge. Though no girl sat beside me, I decided to ask “May I know the time?” to the girl in front. Just when I was all set to do so, the bus screeched to a rapid halt and my forehead dashed against the steel bar in the front. Guessed the route number? 14!

“Sorry”, I mumbled as the girl turned behind. Shekar laughed while I cried in pain. As we got down from the bus, I lovingly said to Shekar, “C’mon, take the third lesson. Never think of a girl in a moving bus” as the Behavior Training School sped away from us.