Brains’ loud voice cracked the silence. “ really miss B-School. They were the most colourful, most adventurous and most fun-filled days of my life.” Potato cut in, “Yeah; they couldn’t have been different. After all, you never studied anything.” Brains smiled ignoring the jibe. Tucks, in his trade mark clipped accent, said, “The place as such meant little to me. The people, each holding a special relevance in my heart, did.”

Potato decided to sit on the sand and let her mind slip, back to the days when her journey had begun.

Three years back when she found her CA (Inter) exam tasteless, Potato had to cut her losses and think of an alternative career. Her dad thought she would make a great teacher; but there was no money in it. Here sister’s choice was law; after all, Potato got into endless debates at home. Her brother genuinely believed she was a “good for nothing.” Potato’s prestige was really at stake. She couldn’t really remember how she clambered on to the MBA bandwagon. Maybe one day she would tell her daughter, “Hey, all bored CA aspirants have an outlet — MBA.”

Potato had turned up at the B-school, dad in tow, insecure and latching on to seven heavy baggages. She was ready for any contingency, including jumping into the first bus back home if the classes turned out to be intimidating. The introductory session had scared her. Her classmates ranged from an engineer with an M-Tech to an English professor; some with five years of work experience to others with none.

Tucks intruded into her thoughts, “They either looked like your uncles or your kids.” Potato jumped up. “My God. How did you read my thoughts?” And Tucks gravely responded, “Hey don’t call me by my first name.”

The night was getting on. Brains stared at the frisky waves and remarked, “I can never forget Prof Sam. I learnt innumerable lessons from him. Not just the usual ones of how dedicated and sincere a teacher can be, but also of how a person should and should not be.”

Tucks chipped in. “Yeah. The best thing about him was that he was not a saint and he was not perfect; that’s what made him real.” Brains had misty eyes as he said, “From him I learnt how to give 110 per cent to whatever I do. How to have great observation powers. How to stay focussed. How important it is to yearn for things other than money. How to earn the respect of others not by force but otherwise.”

Potato remarked, “As a teacher, he treated us as nothing short of school students. The substitute for the stick were the words from his mouth. But outside the class, he was at his friendliest best. In fact rumour had it that people would tease him no end.” And then she added, “But my personal favourite was the placement chairman. He was the person I had interacted with the most. And from him I learnt the etiquette of the corporate world”.

“Oh! You mean CB,” said Tucks. CB was short for Career Boss. They called him that as he was instrumental in placing the raw MBAs. “And by the way what were his great qualities of head and heart,” asked Tucks. Potato could detect the scorn in his tone. That wasn’t surprising because CB had used the rule book to stop Tucks from attending a second interview for what Tucks believed was a dream job, but by then he had accepted the offer from an investment banking firm

“Like,” said Potato, “how to talk with the big boys of the corporate world. Most of the gyan that I picked up was by observing him and listening to his stories, parables and telephone calls at the placement cell. Tucks was impatient. “Why don’t you get to specifics? I believe he was a high funda snob”.

Potato wouldn’t give up easily. “His unforgettable starting line was, ‘Are you busy right now sir? Is this good time to talk?’ His persistent nature taught me the power of convincing. His constant search for strategies for placement taught me the importance of thinking on one’s feet.” Tuck whistled. That was his way of telling you that he didn’t buy it Brains chipped in. “I am told that his team was mighty thrilled because he always used to share placement developments with them.”

Snickers joined the group with a “Hi guys.” They called him that because he endlessly ate the eponymous chocolates. He was late as ever. “Sorry folks, I got caught in a traffic jam.” At 9-30 p.m., the road was half deserted. Potato was at her sarcastic best. “He means he had dinner at Hotel Traffic Jam.”

Snicker was one of the unfortunate few who had to join work two days after college ended. “So, how is work,” Tucks asked. “Well, its good” said Snickers. The projects on ALM, Derivatives and Mutual funds that we did back in college are of great help here. Learning how to do financial modelling, making decisions based on live data… it is fun.”

Potato recalled what Prof Sam had said, “5 years from today no one would bother what grades you got at the B-School.” She felt that he was wrong. Twelve months after passing out of the B-school no one was bothering about their grades. They were bothered only about their skillsets.

Someone screamed, “Isn’t anyone game for some hot food? And with that the gang rushed to the food joint as hungry young hounds would.