This is the second edition of WINK Anthology, aptly called 2.0. WINK stands for Writers INKorporated: the writers' club that I co-founded at XLRI Jamshedpur. Have a go at random musings by some XLers who took time to scribble their heart out from the mundane yet uber-hectic life at XL.
2. Foreword
Tucked away behind the lush green acres of Jubilee Park and the bank of the Subarnarekha riv-
er is XLRI, Jamshedpur - India's premier B School. I spent the two most transformative years
of my life there. My relationship with XLRI has evolved over the last two decades. I was a stu-
dent at XL in the eighties. With iconic professors whose impact was far beyond the subject
they taught, it instilled a love for learning even in someone like me. More than anything, it cre-
ated relationships with XLers, Profs and the support staff that have stood the test of time.
Five years after leaving XLRI as a student, I came back to teach as a part time faculty. The big-
gest perk of being back was that I got to spend five more years at the XL campus without hav-
ing to worry about grades and assignments. Then over the course of my career, I came back
many times to hire and to share an idea over a talk. But for me XL is the place where I began
my journey as an author.
Abhijit Bhaduri
This is the venue I chose when I launched my first novel Mediocre But Arrogant. That was in
Author and blogger
2005. That novel is about love and life in a B School. Many incidents and pieces of XL folklore
@ showed up in many of my writings. Married But Available, my second novel, is about the first
http:// ten years of the protagonist who is a HR professional who experiences the transition of corpo-
abhijitbhaduri.com/ rate India in the ‘90s. The setting is Balwanpur, a fictitious town in North India. I am sure my
His day job is that of living in a town like Jamshedpur shaped much of my imagination of what a small town like
Balwanpur would be like.
What is so special about XLRI? The opportunity to shape one’s dreams as I stared out of the
classroom windows to the Dalma range of mountains. Watching the sun set as I sat transfixed
along the bank of Subarnarekha river helped me understand why the river is so named. It does
look like a pot of molten gold as the rays of the sun bathe the meandering river. It is not sur-
prising that XLRI has produced so many musicians, theater artistes and accomplished writers.
Anu Kumar, Mini Dileep, Nirupama Subramaniam, Vijay Nair, MK Ajay, Prem Rao and more
recently my favorite bloggers like Gautam Ghosh, Ramaa Ramesh … I could go on and on.
This WINK anthology is like the first gathering of people who celebrate writing. It was con-
ceptualized to collect a sampling of some of the best writing to come out of XLRI that we
could get our hands on. It is a sprinkling of short stories, poems and blog posts - stuff that
dreams are made of. We hope the next versions of the anthology will showcase the work of
students, faculty, staff and even the friends of XLRI. Just imagine the joy of being able to read
a few pages of a book and then turn to your fellow traveler and say, “I know the authors – they
are all friends from XLRI”.
While I am glad you are reading this book, invite you to write out a piece that will find place in
the next collection of WINK. It is only when you catch 40 Winks that you get to dream. And
the Roman wrote forty as XL!
3. Editorial
So, here’s the second edition. Finally.
Majorly because the lazy-ass buggers (that would be us!) who were supposed
to do all the running around, well, didn’t. We’ve lived our lives according to
great XL tradition of FRAXing and making exceptions for an anthology
would seem unfair to the millions of projects and assignments we scraped
our way through.
Gurdit Singh Sachdeva
In a country that practically runs on fake promises, let me assure you that the
next edition will be out on time. There’s new blood now. We’ve been super-
annuated and I hope you’d support the new faces in the same way you sup-
ported us.
Let us take this opportunity to announce our association with the iconic au-
thor of bestsellers like ‘Mediocre But Arrogant’ and ‘Married But Available’
Abhijit Bhaduri, who as we all know, is our alumnus back from the batch of
1984. Presently the Chief Learning Officer at Wipro, he has made XL come
alive in printed pages like no other has. WINK had organized a special ses-
sion in our own lecture hall earlier this year for the budding writers who were
completely bowled over by how down-to-earth could a man of such corpo-
rate and auctorial stature be. He has been kind enough to write the foreword
of Anthology 2.0 as well.
Varun Kumar Gupta
As we retire, let us thank the kind presence and guidance of stalwarts Prof.
Madhukar Shukla and Prof. Uday Damodaran for believing in us; of the vari-
ous professors, staff and students who showered their encouragement and
blessings when the last edition was published; and Bishu Da because, umm,
he’s a sweetheart.
There’s a little lump in our throats. We’re handing over our baby to a new
generation of parents who we’re sure are far better than we’ve been. Rock it,
folks!
10. उड़ान by Abhijit Shukla
आज बंद करक आँखें,
े
जो आक़ाश को दे ख़ा
तो ककतने ही आज़़ाद पंछी ददखे
उडते हुए एक ऐसी उड़ान,
जजसक़ा न कोई अंत थ़ा और न कोई शरुआत,
ु
न कोई क़दमों क ननश़ाँ थे आसम़ान पर,
े
जजनपर उनको चलऩा पडत़ा
न थी उम्मीद की बेडिय़ाँ,
जो ब़ांधती हो उनको लोगों क सपनों से
े
बस आज़़ादी थी और,
उनकी अपनी उड़ान
जो कहीं से मझे कछ इश़ाऱा स़ा करती थी
ु ु
पर जब आँख खली,
ु
तो श़ाम ढल चकी थी
ु
और आसम़ान ख़ाली थ़ा
और मैं अपने परों से अनज़ान
भीड में खोत़ा ज़ा रह़ा थ़ा…
11. Life is wasted on the Living - Aditya Gadre
“Welcome, we’ve been expecting you,” a woman said cheerfully. Or rather as cheerfully as
she could manage. She even smiled. It was scary.
“Thanks,” said Uther tentatively. What do you say to the dead? What are their social prac-
tises? What is accepted and what is not? You could never be too sure. “Thanks” seemed to
be harmless enough.
She didn’t seem to mind. So “Thanks” was not something that offended these people.
Cool.
“So, I’m dead?” asked Uther. Stupid question, of course. His spirit had seen his own fu-
neral. Stupid idea that was. Watching all those people cry was terribly depressing.
“Well ,yes,” she replied patiently. Denial was generally the first reaction while making this
transition. “You need to rest and get used to this. I’ll show you to your room.”
She led him down the street. On earth, this would be called “scary as hell” or “wrath of
god” or maybe “the end of the world”, but here in Necropolis the sky was ‘pleasant’
blood red. “You are lucky to come today. Such lovely weather!”
She took him to a huge structure and led him to a room. It was simple. One table, one
bed. That’s it. The dead don’t wear clothes. Complete waste of time.
Uther’s first reaction on seeing the bed was to ask “Can I lie down for a bit?” She nodded
understandingly and walked out of the room, closing the door behind her.
He slept like a baby, like he had never slept when he was alive. He woke up and went out.
Shit. He hadn’t asked for her number or any other way to get in touch. He hadn’t even
asked her name. He hadn’t even told her his name for that matter. But that was more be-
cause he was embarrassed of it than anything else. Who the hell is named Uther? King Ar-
thur’s father? Seriously?
“Hi” said a familiar voice behind him. It was her.
12. Life is wasted on the Living - Aditya Gadre
“I am so sorry about earlier. I was really un-gracious. I’m Uther. What’s your name?”
“Nadine”
“That’s a nice name. So, Nadine, what do you guys eat out here?”
Nadine looked at him as if he had politely asked if he could chop her head off.
“Nothing”. “Nothing?’” , “Nothing.”
“Oh.”
Awkward silence.
“What about, um , dating and stuff?”
“We’re dead, love. Can’t have a ‘life’ can we?”
That made sense. Somewhat. This death thing was getting increasingly depressing.
Uther tried changing the subject. “So how’s the weather here?”
“It’s okay today, it’s not raining.”
“It normally rains a lot here?”
“Oh yes. Does it still rain on earth?”
“It did when I left. Uhh , how long ago did I leave?”
“No idea. Just a few days ago I guess. Of course we can never tell the difference between days. There’s
no concept of night or day here you see.”
“So, who sent you to pick me up? I thought a scary dude with a scythe normally does that.”
“Umm, I am the reaper! “
“Really?”
“No. sorry. Haven’t joked about in a few thousand years. Couldn’t resist.”
“You’ve been here that long? You don’t look it.” , She did.
“No need to lie any more kiddo. You’re dead now. You can be honest.
It’s a wonderful feeling. Just saying what you feel to whoever you feel.”
35. A Gift for Valentine’s Day by Raman Choudhury
ANANYA- Love of my life.
36. A Gift for Valentine’s Day by Raman Choudhury
“Never, I never want to see you or your fucked up family ever again...”
I just stood there. What do you do when the world seems to have their eyes only for you but for the wrong reasons?
“Sir, how are you going to pay for this? “ the cashier broke into my thoughts.