The places makes you hate it initially for the rigor it puts you through and it makes you fall in love with it for eternity as it shows you who you are and makes you what you want to be for the rest of your life. It makes life HELL and then turns the HELL into your heaven. To sum up, you know you’re at IIM when:
You go from being late for class when you have just 30 minutes to go,
To being on time for it after waking up 10 minutes before the session;
You go from cribbing about lack sleep when you sleep for 6 hours,
To loving the days when you get 4 hours to sleep;
You go from missing weekly deadlines,
To meeting hourly ones as the clock reads XX:59:59.
When you step out of your room to be greeted with breathtaking beauty of the nature,
You know you are there when your name grows in stature;
It is IIM for you when you rush for the morning class,
For a late entry might get you the grade drop which won’t let you pass,
You know you are at IIM when everything moves at neck breaking speed,
Yes its where from the clutches of vicious deadlines you strive to get freed,
Yes it is this IIM which teaches you the value of time,
The same one that teaches you over-sleeping might be a crime.
You are at an IIM when you sit with a name tag in class,
When feeling sleepy, it is that tag that’s most cursed;
Where questions in class generally serve dual purposes,
Saving you from dozing off, they form DCP verses;
It is an IIM where such beautiful mix of diversity resides,
Solving cases together gives you unexpected insights,
It is this learning beyond the books that forms learning most profound,
Together we all stumble, get up and find our way around.
When bomb-like quizzes threaten to turn us to ash,
Together we teach, learn and play as a batch.
Lessons on networking all B-Schools teach,
In the process they bring new friends for life within our reach;
After the sleepy 4 am submissions,
We still find time to appreciate the monsoons,
It is this craziness that makes you look around,
Yes in an IIM this madness is found.
Between the din of summers, PPOs , laterals and finals,
Memories are made, managers are born.
Before I miss the deadline of 19:59:59,
Let me end and make these the last few lines;
These two years allow you to change the way you are,
Give you a chance to walk, run and fly away to futures afar.
I have become a piece of the IIM jigsaw puzzle,
In the grounds of HELL, I will step out and enjoy the welcome drizzle.
This article is written by Swati Thakur, a supposed economist, proven day-dreamer, self-certified poet. She is a PGP student at IIM Lucknow, batch of 2016 and member of the Media and Communication Cell.
