Why IIMs should be renamed Indian Institute of Marriage
Disclaimer - This post does not intend to hurt the plastic feelings of an MBA. Sorry sister. Sorry brother-in-law. Sorry friend. Sorry another friend. Sorry friend’s wife. Sorry friend’s husband. Sorry many more friends. It’s not personal.
Nine out of ten people reading this know someone with an MBA degree. Six of those nine people have the degree themselves. And four of those six are married to a fellow MBA batchmate. Some facts don’t need proof. They’re all around us. It’s the perfect deal, right?
I mean, if you’re at a "high-end" MBA institute in India, you know, the likes of IIMs, MDI, XLRI, FMS, ISB, etc. (sorry Amity, you suck), there are certain things that can be rightly assumed:
- You are most likely a virgin guy (sources tell me that over 70 per cent of students at an MBA college are untouched males).
- You are a hard-working mule who laboured through four years of engineering college and was declared a healthy MBA prospect by the end of it.
- You will become an unstoppable money-minting machine full of sperm or an unstoppable childbearing money-minting machine full of sperm.
As I said, it’s the perfect deal. Horny men and women thrown together in dingy hostel rooms for two years who both want the same things in life (ghar, gaadi, bachcha, nasha) with extremely bright futures and dull lives, and viola! You’ve got a match made in MBA heaven.
We all know engineer boys are a dedicated lot. If they can skim through four years of college by just using their hands, imagine the motivation they come in with to MBA colleges, knowing perfectly well that this is their last chance to score some "meat". You know "pieces of meat" they can then own later through the holy institution of marriage.
The women are eventually not left with a lot of choice. They average around 25-26 years in age and are already under immense pressure from their parents to either find a good boy or marry Guptaji ka beta who sits at the shop opposite their colony in Ramesh Nagar, Bhopal.
The parents win either way. If she marries the dukaandar, she stays near home. If she marries a fellow MBA, she stays abroad but gets rich enough to call them there. Win-win. Nice move, parents. Way to go!
 |
| The women are eventually not left with a lot of choice. |
But I’m honestly just amazed at this formula being followed by scores of Indians all around us, which follows the exact same routine year after year.
Engineering
- Year 1: Wow so exciting! I’m going to get so high...
- Year 2: Man, I think I’m way too high...
- Year 3: Old Monk lao re koi. Year down ho jayega varna apna.
- Year 4: Shit. Let’s just get this over with and head for an MBA degree. I’m done with being an engineer.
MBA
- Year 1: Damn. I made a mistake. I can’t survive this. Oh wait, there’s a cute girl.
- Year 2: MBA is a piece of cake. But getting married is not. “Will you marry me?” “How about you?” “Hey you, will YOU marry me?” “Someone marry me, please.”
Life
- Year 1: Wooooooyeaaaaah! I’m the king of the world. I don’t know why I’m doing this but look, so much money. Wooooooyeahhhhhh and I just completed a year with my partner!!!
- Year 2: Oh hey. Yeah, let’s get married next year.
- Year 3: Hey look! We got married! Switzerland, here we come!
- Year 4: Holy ****, we had a kid!
- Year 5: Holy shit, we had another kid!!
- Year 6: Holy…… You know the drill…
I know I’m nobody to judge you and it’s all your choice and blah and blah and blah. But come on, you studied to become an engineer after which you studied to become a manager (of what, I’ll never know) and then you end up in banking (I know, I know, investment banking). I would have thought that at least some of you would do something interesting in life…
Every once in a while, it’ll be good to see you emulate a Harsha Bhogle too… I long for the day when this formula is broken and the majority of MBA degree holders don’t fall into this trap and actually try to do something they really want to do.
Not saying you never wanted to become an investment banker. Of course, you were five years old and while your friends wanted to become pilots, cops, cricketers, Batman, Shaktiman, there you were, riding your tricycle, telling all of them “Bete mai bade hoke investment banker banunga… Dekhna tum bachchu!”
Yes, of course, that’s what you REALLY wanted to be.
So… dear future MBAs, try and not be the assembly line kinds but if Arindam Chaudhuri can think beyond the IIMs… I’m sure you can think beyond an investment bank…