Thursday, February 02, 2006

Once upon a very long time back, for a course called 'Unconventional Communication', I offered myself up at the altar. For an exercise called the elevator pitch, I woke up at 6 and walked to Shela to await Prof.R as he drove in to morning class. And I dealt my hand. In cool, measured, controlled pitch, I objectified myself. I was my business plan. I was, in my head, the first reality show star, when none around me had heard of reality television. I broke myself into saleable parts and un-inhabited my own fetishized self. I was my sandwich board, placard and front page. For sale. A blank slate. It worked.

Today, I just came back from a class on India. In cool, measured, silence, I heard about the essential culture, nature of people and terms of engagement for young business graduates wanting to bet on an idea, a geography and an imaginary.

It's going to work again.Tch.

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