tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-146469592024-03-14T14:04:23.945+08:00A Bend in the LaneEastertidehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04793549849687325190noreply@blogger.comBlogger190125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14646959.post-8319016776306668522014-01-20T17:59:00.001+08:002014-01-20T17:59:30.379+08:00The World Moves on<div dir="ltr">The World moves on. It does so very quickly. I guess it should be that way. But one hopes that it lingers a bit on a few little things. Just a bit. Longer than a blink. Shorter than a wee sigh. What are these little things one may ask? <div> Not just the sun and the moon and the stars and the flowers underneath. </div><div>But also the glint in a brat's eye. </div><div>The withering sadness of a lighthouse, a beacon of hope, really, <div><div>The desolation of a white sheet of paper when words fail you </div> <div>The deafening silence when a heart goes crack in two.<br></div><div>The melancholy of an eternal optimist.</div><div>The World moves on quickly, </div><div>Perhaps for the best.</div><div><br></div><div> </div></div> </div></div> Eastertidehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04793549849687325190noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14646959.post-74482918276348450542010-05-01T00:32:00.000+08:002010-05-01T00:33:03.640+08:00Us or MeFor our Leadership & Accountability Class, we had to read a chapter of Ian McEwan's book "Enduring Love". In true McEwan style, this paragraph was captivating -<div><br></div><div>"I didn't know, nor have i ever discovered, who let go first. I'm not prepared to accept that it was me. But everyone claims not to have been first. What is certain is that if we had not broken ranks, our collective weight would have brought the balloon to earth .. But as Ive said, there was no team, there was no plan, no agreement to be broekn. No failure. So can we accept that it was right, everyman for himself? Were we all happy afterward that this was a reasonable course? We never had that comfort, for there was a deeper covenant, ancient and automatic, written in our nature. Cooperation - the basis of our earliest hunting successes, the force behind our evolving capacity for language, the glue of our social cohesion. Our misery in the aftermath was proof that we knew we had failed ourselves. But letting go was in our nature too. Selfishness is also written on our hearts. This is our mammalian conflict: what to give to the others and what to keep for yourself. Treading that line, keeping the others in check and being kept in check by them, is that we call morality. Hanging a few feet above the Chilterns escarpment, our crew enacted morality's ancient, irresolvable dilemma:<i> us, or me</i>."<br clear="all"> <br> </div> Eastertidehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04793549849687325190noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14646959.post-46739151882188022492010-03-28T00:31:00.002+08:002010-03-28T00:33:19.110+08:00Me & The Man Share Our AmbitionsMe [in a whiny mood, with fervent passion] : I don't want to study no more. I WANT to be a house wife.<div>The Man [without skipping a beat] : And I WANT to be a bachelor.</div><div><br /></div>Eastertidehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04793549849687325190noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14646959.post-13798260253547936212010-03-28T00:28:00.002+08:002010-03-28T00:34:20.730+08:00The Man's Birthday WishMe: What do you want for your birthday, tell na?<div>The Man: Mental peace.<div>[pause]</div><div>The Man: So don't call me on that day.</div><div><br /></div> </div>Eastertidehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04793549849687325190noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14646959.post-20830873140238201082010-02-24T15:30:00.002+08:002010-02-24T15:33:55.883+08:00Where Has It All Gone?There are some books you grow too old for. And then, there are books that you are never too old for. I unabashedly enjoy reading and re-reading L M Montgomery's classic, no not Anne of Green Gables, but Emily of New Moon. Dont get me wrong, I was/am a devoted fan of the entire Anne of Green Gables series and practically devoured all 5 books. But Emily of New Moon has a special place. I still remember exactly when I finished reading it - St Catz library, Oxford, an afternoon in November 2003, in my 20s! - I shut the book, traipsed down the spiral staircase, literally skipping here and there and promising myself that I shall be like Emily in terms of retaining my childish passion for life for ever and ever. Old promises have a way of coming back and biting you. Where has it all gone? <div><br /></div><div>It all reminded me of the Old English poem, The Wanderer, that my Olde English professor made us memorize. My memory does not do justice to the entire peom, but i remember the most poignant which I have 'Ctrl+C, Ctrl +V' ed. </div> <div><br /></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:'Times New Roman';font-size:medium;"><table width="100%"><tbody><tr><td><br /></td><td>Hwær cwom mearg? Hwær cwom mago? Where is the horse gone? Where the rider?</td> </tr><tr><td></td><td>Hwær cwom maþþumgyfa?</td><td>Where the giver of treasure?</td></tr><tr><td></td><td>Hwær cwom symbla gesetu?</td><td>Where are the seats at the feast?</td></tr><tr><td></td><td>Hwær sindon seledreamas?</td> <td>Where are the revels in the hall?</td></tr><tr><td></td><td>Eala beorht bune!</td><td>Alas for the bright cup!</td></tr><tr><td></td><td>Eala byrnwiga!</td><td>Alas for the mailed warrior!</td></tr><tr><td></td><td>Eala þeodnes þrym!</td> <td>Alas for the splendour of the prince!</td></tr><tr><td></td><td>Hu seo þrag gewat,</td><td>How that time has passed away,</td></tr><tr><td><br /></td><td>genap under nihthelm,</td><td>dark under the cover of night,</td> </tr><tr><td></td><td>swa heo no wære.</td><td>as if it had never been!</td></tr></tbody></table></span><div> </div><div> </div>Eastertidehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04793549849687325190noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14646959.post-64449989835493643032010-02-24T15:04:00.002+08:002010-02-24T15:09:08.761+08:00Old WrongsHow do you you right old wrongs? There havent been many, fortunately. But the few gnaw, bit by bit, inch by inch, at your peace of mind. They linger and fester. Mock at you. They shant be silenced till you have the courage to go back and right the wrong. Even if the other person(s) has moved on and can scarce remember what you are talking about. <div><br /></div><div>I am feeling reckless today. One of my biggest and oldest wrongs was when I refused to walk to the medical shop to fetch my sister pain killers when she was in agony. This was when I was in 6th grade. They say children can be cruel. But I was no child. It cannot be explained away. I still am frightened about my capacity then to be cruel. I have never apologized to my sister. But I have, ever since, tried to never let my sister down. But an apology is long overdue. I am sorry.</div>Eastertidehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04793549849687325190noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14646959.post-19231360885530328152010-02-23T07:12:00.001+08:002010-02-23T07:12:10.141+08:00Hank Paulsonspoke at Burden Auditorium an hour ago. The ex Secretary of the Treasury of USA spoke about leadership, ethics and his decisions during the global meltdown. He also spoke about his most important skill he picked up at HBS ( he was class of 79 if I remember correctly, and was from my section!) was the ability to convince and influence people through oral communication. Which isnt very different from what I thought would be the most important skill I need to learn before I am out of here.<br> Eastertidehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04793549849687325190noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14646959.post-32898884052349585892010-02-23T07:05:00.001+08:002010-02-23T07:05:24.119+08:00Who Reads the PapersI needed a dose of humor over the weekend, and who else do i turn to but Yes, Minister, in my opinion, the finest jewel of British comedy. Saw the episode where MP Jim Hacker tells about who reads the papers as below -<div> <br><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 19px; "><b>Hacker:</b> Don't tell me about the press. I know exactly who reads the papers: the <i><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Daily_Mirror" title="Daily Mirror" style="text-decoration: none; color: rgb(0, 43, 184); background-image: none; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; ">Daily Mirror</a></i> is read by people who think they run the country; <i><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Guardian" title="The Guardian" style="text-decoration: none; color: rgb(0, 43, 184); background-image: none; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; ">The Guardian</a></i> is read by people who think they ought to run the country; <i><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Times" title="The Times" style="text-decoration: none; color: rgb(0, 43, 184); background-image: none; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; ">The Times</a></i> is read by people who actually do run the country; the <i><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Daily_Mail" title="Daily Mail" style="text-decoration: none; color: rgb(0, 43, 184); background-image: none; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; ">Daily Mail</a></i> is read by the wives of the people who run the country; the <i><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Financial_Times" title="Financial Times" style="text-decoration: none; color: rgb(0, 43, 184); background-image: none; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; ">Financial Times</a></i> is read by people who own the country; <i><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Morning_Star" title="The Morning Star" class="mw-redirect" style="text-decoration: none; color: rgb(0, 43, 184); background-image: none; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; ">The Morning Star</a></i> is read by people who think the country ought to be run by another country; and <i><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Daily_Telegraph" title="The Daily Telegraph" style="text-decoration: none; color: rgb(0, 43, 184); background-image: none; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; ">The Daily Telegraph</a></i> is read by people who think it is.</span></div> <div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 19px; "><p style="margin-top: 0.4em; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0.5em; margin-left: 0px; line-height: inherit; "><b>Sir Humphrey:</b> Prime Minister, what about the people who read <i><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Sun_(newspaper)" title="The Sun (newspaper)" style="text-decoration: none; color: rgb(0, 43, 184); background-image: none; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; ">The Sun</a></i>?<br> <b>Bernard:</b> <i>Sun</i> readers don't care who runs the country, as long as she's got big t@*s</p></span> <div><br></div></div></div> Eastertidehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04793549849687325190noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14646959.post-17431029309762589262009-12-18T12:37:00.001+08:002009-12-18T12:37:01.713+08:00Its -11 degrees Celsius...outside but <a href="http://weather.com">weather.com</a> tells me that it feels like -22deg Celsius thanks to the howling beastly wind. This is the coldest weather I have ever lived in and its quite weird. Cant wait for the snow storms In February. There is ice on my Vicotrian semi-bay window panes. I am prep-ing for an unprep-able final tomorrow in a warm bed and thinking of all the books I can devour after I am done with awful phase of B-school. <div> <div><br></div></div> Eastertidehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04793549849687325190noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14646959.post-24558574486515129512009-12-17T08:31:00.001+08:002009-12-17T08:31:14.514+08:00Snippets of Wisdomfrom our LEAD class - <div><br></div><div>"Nothing is worse than procrastination.. It's better to make decisions quickly and be right seven out of ten times than to waste time trying to achieve the perfect solution. To stick one's neck out and do the right thing is obviously best. But the second best is to take action, make a mistake and learn from your action. To take no action is the only unacceptable behaviour for ABB managers" - Percy Barnevick (Europe's answer to America's Jack Welch</div> <div><br> </div> Eastertidehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04793549849687325190noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14646959.post-65077463063814169752009-12-12T08:06:00.001+08:002009-12-12T08:06:30.407+08:00Quest for Inner RingCS Lewis's very relevant take on corruption - <div><br></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; "><font class="Apple-style-span" face="'times new roman', serif">To nine out of ten of you the choice which could lead to scoundrelism will come, when it does come, in no very dramatic colors. Obviously bad men, obviously threatening or bribing, will almost certainly not appear. Over a drink or a cup of coffee, disguised as a triviality and sandwiched between two jokes, from the lips of a man, or woman, whom you have recently been getting to know rather better and whom you hope to know better still-just at the moment when you are most anxious not to appear crude, or naif, or a prig-the hint will come. It will be the hint of something which is not quite in accordance with the technical rules of fair play: something which the public, the ignorant, romantic public, would never understand: something which even the outsiders in your own profession are apt to make a fuss about: but something, says your new friend, which "we"-and at the word "we" you try not to blush for mere pleasure-something "we always do." And you will be drawn in, if you are drawn in, not by desire for gain or ease, but simply because at that moment, when the cup was so near your lips, you cannot bear to be thrust back again into the cold outer world. It would be so terrible to see the other man's face-that genial, confidential, delightfully sophisticated face-turn suddenly cold and contemptuous, to know that you had been tried for the Inner Ring and rejected. </font></span></div> <div><font class="Apple-style-span" face="'times new roman', serif"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br></span></font></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; "><font class="Apple-style-span" face="'times new roman', serif">And then, if you are drawn in, next week it will be something a little further from the rules, and next year something further still, but all in the jolliest, friendliest spirit. </font></span></div> <div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; "><font class="Apple-style-span" face="'times new roman', serif">It may end in a crash, a scandal, and penal servitude: </font></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; "><font class="Apple-style-span" face="'times new roman', serif">it may end in millions, a peerage and giving the prizes at your old school. </font></span></div> <div><font class="Apple-style-span" face="'times new roman', serif"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br></span></font></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman', serif; font-size: medium; ">But you will be a scoundrel.</span></div> <div><font class="Apple-style-span" face="'times new roman', serif"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br></span></font></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman', serif; font-size: medium; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; ">The quest of the Inner Ring will break your hearts unless you break it</span>"</span></div> <div> </div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><font class="Apple-style-span" face="'times new roman', serif"><br></font></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><font class="Apple-style-span" face="'times new roman', serif">We were discussing fraud in our accounting class, and our fantastic professor (who makes accounting dynamic!) ended the class with this quote. </font></span></div> <div><font class="Apple-style-span" face="'Times New Roman'"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br></span></font></div> Eastertidehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04793549849687325190noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14646959.post-59397137990617350332009-12-11T01:18:00.001+08:002009-12-11T01:18:55.612+08:00A Thoughtprovoking DiscussionIn our LEAD class, we were made to read a bunch of 10 year and 20 year memoirs of the HBS Class of 1976. The ensuing discussion in class was thought provoking. We went on to desribe our personal take on 'what is success'. It was an almost touching experience to hear how my very accomplished classmates measure success. And let me tell you it wasn't just coming to HBS or getting awards. <div> <br></div><div>One said his immigrant grandfather taught him that true success can be measured by how many people attend your funeral. Because when you die, people don't owe you anything, except for respect. Another said, success cannot be achieved if you pursue success. Instead if you pursue happiness, success will follow. Yet another said that maybe success is not just about yourself and is actually about striving for the success of others. I wont go into mine, because I think anybody who reads my older posts can pretty much get a sense of it. In fact, someone had written my thoughts better than I had ever did almost a century before me - It was Kipling with his poem 'IF'.</div> <div><br></div><div>People brought in many personal philosophies into the discussion that made it very touching. Some refused to comment, or share their goals in life, some talked about them openly. I think this was the first <b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-decoration: underline;">entirely</span></b> meaningful, sans-buzzword, sans trying-to-get-class-participation-credit, sans-faff class i have sit through at HBS. </div> Eastertidehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04793549849687325190noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14646959.post-24023450913431203302009-11-25T08:22:00.001+08:002009-11-25T08:22:57.269+08:00Simple PleasuresI have 2 amazing books to read over Thanksgiving - Winterson's <i>Lighthouse Keeping</i> and Murakami's <i>The Elephant Vanishes. </i>I am as excited as a 5 year old would be on Christmas Eve, waiting to open her gifts. I wish it was perfect weather to go with these books. There are plenty of wooden benches beneath maple, birch and other trees here, which are so forlorn - yearning for someone to sit on them. But the cold is just too bone chilling to read sitting on them. Eastertidehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04793549849687325190noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14646959.post-12919805021734324402009-11-20T07:38:00.002+08:002009-11-20T07:43:02.506+08:00Flag Day at HBSFlag Day is an important section event. It's the day we hang our national flags in our classroom. The # of flags raised in my section is 30; i.e my section mates come from 30 countries. Unfortunately, HBS's policy dictates that the Taiwanese national flag should not be put up. Fortunately, for my Taiwanese classmates, we hung the Taiwan Olympic delegation's flag. That diffused the uncomfortable situation a bit. To introduce our flags, we give a 3 min fun presentation of our countries - quirky facts, trivia, a bit of patriotism thrown in. The below hilarious map surfaced during the USA presentation, all in good fun. Notice Africa doesnt even exist!<div><br /></div><div> <img src="http://medicineandman.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2009/09/the-world-according-to-americans.jpg" /></div>Eastertidehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04793549849687325190noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14646959.post-18923822905715989512009-11-18T11:10:00.001+08:002009-11-18T11:10:02.756+08:00Are You Here Yet? -2I know the heights of egotism and pomposity is to quote oneself. But i cant help it, I want to remind myself a promise I keep making to myself. I need this reminder ever more so here at Harvard, to not get drowned with all the work and the many ways one can spend time here. Eastertide, here goes all over again <a href="http://darcyatpemberly.blogspot.com/2009/03/are-you-here-yet.html">March 09, 2009</a>- <div> <font class="Apple-style-span" color="#333333" face="Georgia" size="4"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px;"><br></span></font></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 15px; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); ">You have to be a Jack of all trades. Being a Master is overrated. You need to be able to sing a ditty, dance the lindy hop, discuss the Palestinian situation in Middle East, solve a cryptic crossword, be content with your own company,be comfortable going to parties alone, steer a sparkling conversation over lunch, climb a peak - kilimanjaro or kinabalu - once in a while, run a marathon, swim a kilometer, backpack across continents, be kind to the dog or the kid, know all about wines and yet remain a teetotaler, know all there is to know of cigars, and yet remain a non-smoker, learn a language, give a dime to the old man selling tissues, canter and gallop with your horse. To all this, you need to have a sense of humor nothing can diminish, a goodness nothing can tarnish, a soul that is free and that transcends all this and everything. Are you here, yet? </span></div> Eastertidehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04793549849687325190noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14646959.post-27534231359895365272009-10-17T04:42:00.001+08:002009-10-17T04:42:53.165+08:00Professors & RankingsMy 'homeroom' professor , the professor who is sort of the assigned 'spiritual' guide to our section, has been ranked #44 in World's Top Business Thinkers this year! <div><a href="http://www.thinkers50.com/biographies/44/2009">http://www.thinkers50.com/biographies/44/2009</a></div> Eastertidehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04793549849687325190noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14646959.post-60964504764607624412009-10-07T09:21:00.004+08:002009-10-07T09:50:18.218+08:00Bob McDonald P&G CEO at HBSMy husband asked me to attend this talk without fail. And being a dutiful wife, I did just that. And here is my report - <div>Bob McDonald talked about his 10 maxims for leadership, a work in progress through his many years of leadership in the Army and at P&G. I have condensed a lot of points and hence may not be as eloquent as his speech. Anyhoo, here goes - </div> <div><ol><li><b>Have a purpose in life</b>. My purpose has always been helping people. That is why I was a Boy Scout, then went to West Point and subsequently the Army. Then I joined P&G because the purpose of P&G aligned with my purpose. It was touching lives and improving life. He listed the P&G core values, etc.</li><li><br /></li><li><b>Everyone wants to succeed, success is contagious</b>.</li><li><br /></li><li><b>Putting people in the right job is one of the most important jobs of the leader</b>.</li><li><br /></li><li><b>Character is the most important trait of a leader</b>. By character, I mean (a) putting the needs of the organization above your needs. Have ambitions for the organization, not for yourself. (b) Integrity - at P&G we dont cheat, steal or lie. And we don't want people who do that. (c) Taking Responsibility - In West Point, for any problem or issue, there are only 4 answers - 1. Yes, sir 2. No, sir. 3. Sir, I do not understand 4. No excuse, sir. And I learnt through experience that the correct answer is No, excuse Sir whenever you mess up. Even if the causes of the failure were outside your control. Take responsibility. (d) Choose the <b>harder right</b> instead of the<b> easier wrong</b>. Whenever something is turning out to be easy, think again. Maybe you are doing the wrong thing. </li><li><br /></li><li><b>Diverse groups of people are more innovative than homogenous people</b>. We want our people to be exactly like our consumers. Diversity is key to innovation. And innovations are more about connecting the dots than straight lines. Inventions never get used for what they were meant/designed for. For, example, Graham Bell designed the telephone as an aid for the hearing impaired. Marconi meant the radio to be used to communicate from a ship. Certainly not for entertainment on land! Father of IBM's most famous quote is "I think in future, the United States of America may need one or two computers." P&G also uses the Platinum Rule (as opposed to the Golden Rule: Treat otheres as you want others to treat you): Treat others as they want to be treated. </li><li><br /></li><li><b> Ineffective strategies, systems and culture are bigger culprits than people</b>. As a leader, when things go wrong, investigate processes and strategies first. Not people.</li><li><br /></li><li><b>There will be some people in the organization who will not make it on the journey</b>. This is a difficult admission, as much as I am an optimist and an idealist.</li><li><br /></li><li><b>Organizations must renew themselves</b>. The most important thing you will learn at Harvard is 'how to learn'. P&G wouldn't be celebrating its 172nd year this October if it hadn't constantly renewed it self. In 1980 (when Bob joined P&G from the Army), P&G's overseas business is 25% of the total. Today it is 60%. It had 60k people. Today 130k. It had zero billion dollar brands. Today it has 23 of billion dollar brands. It has 20 half a million dollar brands. (Quick aside: These 43 brands make up 95% of their profits. So Bob joked that what the other 180 brands were doing is a question he asks everyday and joked about cutting brands!)</li><li><br /></li><li><b>Recruiting is the top priority</b>. We have a culture of promoting from within. This is why, I am here today and try to be here at HBS every year. This is why I am going to talk to you after this speech. Because, I am looking for the future CEO of P&G. </li><li><br /></li><li><b>The true test of leadership is the performance of the organization when he/she is absent or after he/she departs</b>. He gave the illustration of how the true test of your parenting is how your teenager behaves when you are absent or on a holiday.</li></ol><ol> </ol>I found him to be very down to earth and personable. In response to certain Q&A, he asked the person to email him so that he can get back to him with more infomration! I mean how often does the CEO of a $80 billion dollar company does that?</div>Eastertidehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04793549849687325190noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14646959.post-34198234731224548952009-09-24T10:49:00.001+08:002009-09-24T10:49:49.614+08:00Aldrich Art & Life's Little ThingsThe other day, I remember walking along the halls of Aldrich and coming across this piece of art I found quirky and yet haunting. I shan't quote it just yet because I want to get it exactly as the artist said of the piece. Tomorrow, I will go in search of it. And I will quote all of it. It reminded me of life's little things. A reminder to not be buried in the hurry burry of everything, and to marvel at the strange fates at work that brought me to Harvard, to Aldrich, to that hallway, standing at that very art piece on the cusp of the beautiful moment that will be so full of comprehension and beautiful simplicity. <div> </div> Eastertidehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04793549849687325190noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14646959.post-19058584407409385692009-09-24T10:40:00.001+08:002009-09-24T10:40:46.135+08:00If I Could Tell You, Auden<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14px; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); "><i>.... If we should weep when clowns put on their show,<br>If we should stumble when musicians play,<br>Time will say nothing but I told you so.<br> <br>There are no fortunes to be told, although,<br>Because I love you more than I can say,<br>If I could tell you I would let you know. ...</i></span> <div><font class="Apple-style-span" color="#333333" size="4"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px;"><i><br></i></span></font></div><div><font class="Apple-style-span" color="#333333" size="4"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px;">I always always always end up connecting with Auden's magical, lyrical haunting poetry. No matter what I read or don't. </span></font></div> <div><font class="Apple-style-span" color="#333333" size="4"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px;"><br></span></font></div> Eastertidehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04793549849687325190noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14646959.post-84525242100457883772009-09-19T04:14:00.001+08:002009-09-19T04:14:54.692+08:00W.<div>Shock of the week - to find out that of all the famous people in the world, George W. Bush was from my section. </div><div>Just one question. Why?</div><div><br></div><div>PS: Mitt Romney was too.</div> Eastertidehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04793549849687325190noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14646959.post-14783712231957052612009-09-11T06:56:00.001+08:002009-09-11T06:56:11.996+08:00First Day of Serious ClassesToday has been the first day of serious classes. And you all may or may not ask, "How has it been, H?" and other variations questions. Well it depends -<div><br></div><div>On Cases & Classes - </div><div>I like it a lot. I think, I am going to actually like my 'fluffy' classes quite a bit- LEAD (Leadership) and Maketing. We also looked at a case of Lapdesk, a for profit social enterprise in South Africa. I haven't been as concise and articulate as I wished to be during class. But, I will get there. I better as 50% of my grade is dependent on the quality of my comments. </div> <div><br></div><div>On Diversity of Classmates -</div><div>The sheer number of things my classmates have achieved in their 'personal' time was plain outstanding, their careers, I felt needed some room for diversity. Most had followed the consulting and private equity route, if not the IB and private equity route. So much so that I quickly realised that I was the exotic diversity candidate at Harvard, the 'poet'! Where are the promised chefs, the Olympic triathletes? Sure I have a section-mate who wrote Broadway musicals and another who was a surgeon. But we make a small motely band of "poets". </div> <div><br></div><div>On Everything Else -</div><div>Consulting is huge here. The first day, BCG clogged my mailbox with awesome umbrellas and a personalised note from the CEO. Not to be outdone, the second day, Bain & Company sent me(and all other RCs) super cool water bottles and email Ids of real people, urging me to contact them. That's all very flattering I am sure. But it makes my search to tread the path lesser traveled rather challenging. The array of social, club activities is staggering. The skys the limit. Being the old bore, I have opted out of all the bar-disco-club nights. But I fancy checking out plays in the Sanders Theater, making full use of the collection at Lemont and the archives at Widener across the river. I plan to go to university stand-up comedy and dance and plan to row or dance. If it's all free, that is, as I happen to be in a financial mess. </div> <div><br></div><div>It's only been 5 days, but I feel distant from my old life. </div> Eastertidehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04793549849687325190noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14646959.post-38205449801171471762009-07-16T12:38:00.001+08:002009-07-16T12:38:18.871+08:00Thucydides saidThucydides said, "The secret of happiness is freedom. And the secret of freedom, courage" <div><br></div><div>I often thought that I ranked 'way above average' when it comes to courage. Not the kind of 'let's jump off a cliff for a skinny dip' courage, or 'let's sleep in a haunted house' courage, or 'let's do a 100m bungee jump' courage. Nay, not that kind of courage. </div> <div><br></div><div>Rather the kind of courage that doesn't think twice to confront a misbehaving stranger on a bus, the kind who doesnt hesitate to call the cops on some random jerks on the buses trying to molest women, or the kind who doesnt take it low at work be it a colleague, or my boss or his boss if I dont like something (and hence is often not well liked). </div> <div><br></div><div>But, at times, I have this nagging doubt that I am courageous not because I am aware of the precariousness and the dangers of my actions, but rather, I am foolish and naive to know of them. Or lack the tact and sauve to tackle the situation. So am I still technically courageous? </div> <div><br></div><div>I am confused.</div> Eastertidehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04793549849687325190noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14646959.post-7314509490430794692009-07-16T12:31:00.001+08:002009-07-16T12:31:36.938+08:00Advice & Wisdom<i>"He advised those who had no government of themselves never to taste of things that tempt a man to eat when he is no longer hungry, to drink when his thirst is already quenched, because it is this that spoils the stomach, causes the headache, and puts the soul into disorder."</i><br> Eastertidehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04793549849687325190noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14646959.post-25981471099486041832009-07-09T11:24:00.001+08:002009-07-09T11:24:37.518+08:00Welcome Party Antics<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Yesterday I came across an unfinished post recollecting the embarrassment I and my cousins put my sister through in 2001 while receiving her at an undisclosed airport in Arizona. It was loads of fun planning the whole sham. It was winter vacation. I went to my uncle's place in an undisclosed great American suburbia in Arizona. So, did two other cousins from up North and Canada. My sister was the last to fly into Arizona. So, we all put our heads together to make her feel very 'welcome' by organizing a welcome procession at the airport.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><u><span lang="EN-GB">Banner</span></u></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Every welcome party, needs a banner. So, the first task was to make one that screamed "Welcome <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">Name-of-Sister</i>!" I employed the talents of my uncle's 3 year old, Cousin A to come up with the artwork to 'decorate' the screaming letter written in pencil. She scribble mysterious things that vaguely looked like lop sided flowers with wings, dogs that looked like a horse with three legs ("it hurted it's leg and it dropped off"), stick figure and other such crap that parents gush about when kids like A draw them. In case u dint get the idea, she did a disgusting job out of it. Which was the general effect we wanted of course. To hold up the banner, we glued the banner to two tall twigs we found in the backyard.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><u><span lang="EN-GB">Garland</span></u><u><span lang="EN-GB"></span></u></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Garlands</span><span lang="EN-GB"> made out of money are <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>a common gesture in India. So, we decided to make one with monopoly currency. My aunt though was a fly in the ointment. She absolutely refused to allow us to waste good <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">Monopoly</i> money on this mad sham. So, we just glued cut white paper with dollar sign. The skilful artwork was again provided by the 3 year old Cousin A (who by now is beside herself <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>with self importance as we found her <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">talents </i>crucial).</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><u><span lang="EN-GB">Music</span></u></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Cousin Ash (all of 6 years found his toy plastic drums (the kind that you sling around your neck for marching bands) meant for 3 year olds. I dug up a toy cymbals that made quite a ruckus.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><u><span lang="EN-GB">The Welcome</span></u></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Uncle drove us to the airport. He was armed with a camera. We are a very mature family, I suppose. The welcome party consisted of my uncle, 3 year old Cousin A, 6 year old Cousin Ash, 26ish Cousin K, 31ish Cousin G and myself. My aunt politely opted out of this sham.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Anticipation was high as we waited at the arrival gates. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">We caught sight of her. She was a 30m away. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">She waved. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">I signalled. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">The hideous, lopsided paper banner with glue stains and Dali-esque artwork was popped up and unfurled to full glory. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">My sister blinked. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">We chanted "Welcome, welcome to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">Name of Sister</i>"</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">She stopped. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Everybody stared. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Cousin Ash added the background score. He began thumping his heart away on the plastic drums. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Everybody stared some more. Some sniggered. Others shook their heads. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">This was a lot more embarrassing for us than I thought it would be, but oh heck, damn the torpedos, full speed ahead! </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Meanwhile my sister was wildly looking for an escape route.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">We were making our way towards her. Then the final touch – the paper garland was extracted from the plastic grocery bag. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">She abandoned her cabin bag and tried to run. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Amused passerbys made way a little.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Cousin Ash abandoned the toy drums and lunged at her thighs, I latched on to her shoulders. Then Cousin G, pushed the garland over her head. The welcome was complete. Needless to say, my sister sputtered with rage and embarassment or at least half a day. She thought we were all terribly unclassy and vulgar. Garn! I say, we had a load of fun, as long as it was someone else being welcomed.</span></p> Eastertidehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04793549849687325190noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14646959.post-50071062950253955662009-06-28T22:21:00.001+08:002009-06-28T22:21:36.435+08:00The Most Important People in the World<div>The other day, while I was driving past IKEA, a billboard caught my eye. A billboard announcing the sale of childrens' furniture. The hoarding read - "For the most important people in the world" - obviously referring to children. What struck me was what a load of marketing balderdash the statement was. At least in my opinion. When did the world gang up and decide that children are the most important people in the world? They ARE important. But surely they are not the MOST important? Look, it is a given that I would do just about anything to protect a baby. </div> <div> </div> <div>But what about the old and the aged? Dont they figure as the most important? They have lived decades and have attained, hopefully, wisdom. We have many lessons to learn from their experiences, from their mistakes. We have wisdom to partake. If there were no old, there would no wisdom to teach the young. And what is a generation sans wisdom worth? </div> <div> </div> <div>And what about women? Dont you think they are much more important? The stupendous depth & intensity of love that they are capable of.Surely we dont need a Mother's Day to remind us of all that? </div> <div> </div> <div>I do love <em>most </em>children & all babies. But children aren't the most important people in the world. <br clear="all"></div> <div></div><br><br> Eastertidehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04793549849687325190noreply@blogger.com3