Kid.

“Work ex hai? Kaunse year ka pass-out hai? 2017? Baccha hai!”

One of the best and worst things about an MBA program is that keeps you with people elder to you, or basically, with engineers. Best because I have always turned to these people when I have needed feedback. Worst because I have always received feedback (read: judgements) when I have not wanted it. Very conveniently I was labelled a kid in the first few days of my MBA life and that hasn’t changed even after 400 days. Yes, it was partly because of the lack of facial hair and my happy-go-lucky attitude. Being mirthful was equated to being a kid, which only told me one thing that work experience does make people sad. And so, I was the 23 year old, worried about soon approaching hair loss, and yet a kid now.

Still, why am I making this a conundrum? People are being called obese, skinny, dark, (illegal) immigrant around the world. Among these labels, ‘kid’ does no harm. The problem was not so much in being called so, but in being perceived so for every activity, decision or reaction. 100 cases of being mature, but one moment where I would react, would be when the dialog will follow, “Baccha jaise karta hai!” The problem was that I was denied the opportunity to lead a thing close to my hear because I was just a kid. Oh, the irony? People of this committee were going to elect the leader and yet I was asked before my nomination went in, “Will 26 year olds accept you?” Who’ll drive this common sense that even if they won’t, I am being voted for because majority of the people do accept me! The problem also was that this label was only one way because the moment any of these elder people were made to realize of their age, it used to piss them off. Eureka! The problem was the age gap, not the age. For once, this age gap turned into a communication gap but I soon came out of it.

I struggled changing the way people saw me but I soon realized I was working on the wrong end. It was easier to change how I felt about it. I thought being a kid, maybe, allows me more freedom to act and react. Afterall, kids cannot be controlled so easily. So, I now moved like a free bird, flying to random places, poking my beak anywhere and shitting on people without thinking. Also, I never had the Fear of Missing Out, which I think should be the key metric for maturity in a business school. One time, we attended a lecture by brand manager at Mondelez India who read Oreo’s brand personality from her slides, “Oreo is not childish. Oreo is child-like.” I found validation. Later, as part of one of the committees, we had to decide on a pseudo name for ourselves. I called myself Bira. I thought I cannot be blamed for being the person people want to become and only alcohol helps them then.

I forgot to tell you that I wasn’t alone in being labelled so. There were other Facchas (Fresher + Baccha) too but their label got sided by virtue of their transient loyalties towards their friend groups. I had freelancing experience for an year before joining MBA studies but I was still a part of this Faccha cohort. I was part of this list for an year and suddenly I was drawn out, unfortunately.

Why unfortunate? It was that time of our MBA life when companies visited our campus for internship opportunities. Clearly, some companies preferred freshers more, which I was very roughly aware of. Shortlists were rolled out before the process started and suddenly, all those freshers were mentioned except for me. It was maybe because of my 12 month experience in freelancing that I mentioned in every form. It shook me. The other companies which shortlisted me had a bias for work experience and thus I was way behind in their priority lists again. Being called a kid for an year and not being other kids when it most mattered felt like betrayal. I had not applied for many companies either because I was confident about where I wanted my career to head. But for people, the kid had erred, again.

Shortlists did make me tense. But, I was confident about my choice of companies. I was confident of the risk I had taken, excited about the reward but also aware of the loss that it could mean getting something inferior compared to others. Yet, people walked up to me and kept on reminding me of my ‘mistake’ of not applying to more companies. I was reminded about it even when I had just come out of the interview room realizing that the company has already selected its best candidates and doesn’t need to scan me anymore. How can someone be blamed for being focussed? For others, I was being choosy. People said, “How will you even have interviews? You have not applied only!” It made me anxious. As an alternative, I could have applied and later not be serious in group discussions or interviews. Surely! But that would have meant denying someone else of the opportunity I never wanted in the first place. It would have meant torturing yourself with the guilt of being so close to getting hired by the big heavyweights and yet passing that offer. It can still be called a reckless decision but one cannot keep drilling that in my head while everybody around me is getting placed. My sleep cycle reduced to an hour. Anxiety was real.

People who called me a kid did not realize that I am young. I am not old enough to take this pressure. I believe you’re never old enough for that. Just when this kid was about to give up, he was listening to ‘Behti Hawa sa tha woh’ from 3 idiots just for these lines, “Humko toh raahe thi chalaati, woh khud apni raah banaata, girta sambhalta masti mei chalta tha woh! Humko kal ki fikar sataati, woh bass aaj ka jashn manaata, harr lamhe ko khul ke jeeta tha woh” Lyrics that I have always wanted people to use when they remember me. Because I celebrate each day, lead a happy-go-lucky life, and don’t worry much for what might happen tomorrow, I cannot be called a kid. Because I have decided my own route to success and I have fallen few times, I cannot be blamed for my choices. I got my internship opportunity very soon after I was hearing this. Just the kind of confidence I needed, maybe.

I don’t hate my batch for this. I can proudly say that I couldn’t have found a more virtuous institute than SPJIMR. Thus, I have loved my batchmates much more than I have disliked them on some days in these 400+ days I have spent here. This is more of a complain than a hate speech, a disclaimer I should have put at the start. Kids complain alot, don’t they. Irony is that I complain the most here to one of these elder people only. Not that she doesn’t call me a kid!