Two Years at IIM BLACKI – Not the dream, not the disaster, just the truth

I just got my degree. The convocation gown, the photos, the certificate – all of it should have felt like closure. But the thing is, you don’t really "graduate" from an IIM. You survive it. You process it in fragments. You carry parts of it with you, for better or worse.

And maybe that’s what this post is – my way of processing the last two years at IIM BLACKI.

The Arrival

I didn’t come from an IIT or a top-tier college. I came in wide-eyed, from a basic Tier-3 engineering background, with nothing but hope and hustle. Some came from corporate jobs, some straight from SRCC and Stephen’s, some with 2 years of UPSC prep behind them. The diversity hits you fast, and so does the hierarchy.

You think it won’t matter. That your story is unique. But it does. Your undergrad, your work-ex, your PORs, your undergrad CGPA, even your grooming – everything is currency. And your worth on campus is constantly recalculated based on it.

The Hustle Begins

Term 1? Chaos. CV reviews start before you've figured out where the mess is. You beg seniors to look at your CV – some do, some don’t. Some choose people who "look the part." Others become your lifelines. You meet all kinds.

You walk around in the same formal shirt for three days straight, editing your resume down to a single line, obsessing over font size and bullet structure. You wonder how this is what you left your job (or city or home) for.

Then comes the Summer Placement Week. You think it’s a game of strategy. It's actually a game of chance disguised as one. You hear "Day 0," "Day minus 1," and you scramble to get shortlisted, only to realize that your fancy work ex doesn't matter half as much as someone else's undergrad tag.

Finance? Forget it unless you’re CFA+SRCC/St. Stephen’s+Excel wizard. You pivot to consulting. Everyone does. Not because they love it, but because it’s Day 0. And everyone wants to survive Day 0.

The Great Unlearning

By the end of Term 2, you’ve forgotten who you were before BLACKI. You don’t romanticize the campus anymore. You don’t post about “grateful to be here” unless you just got a shortlist.

You realize that placement committees, CV points, and professor perceptions carry more weight than you ever imagined. And even if you’re good – smart, driven, well-spoken – it might not be enough. This place doesn’t just humble you. It rewires you.

People you thought were brilliant don’t get placed. People you didn’t expect to shine – do. Some firms show up, some vanish. Some people get PPIed, others get ghosted. You watch it all unfold like a simulation with a dicey algorithm.

And that’s when anxiety kicks in. Not the kind that you can write off with a few deep breaths. The kind that makes you wonder if your loan was worth it. If leaving your job was worth it. If you’re worth it.

The Mid-MBA Crisis

Third term? The intern wait begins. You like the company, you want the PPO. You don’t like the company, you still fear getting a PPO and being forced to accept it. You hate the job? Too bad, you might have to take it. You love the job? Good luck getting that offer.

And then comes the exchange dilemma. You need to choose to opt for it in this term. Another 7-8 lakhs. More debt. More guilt. You're from a middle-class family that has never spent ₹100 on themselves without thinking. Now you’re planning three months in Europe? With people you barely know, hoping the trip isn’t just an expensive photoshoot?

You’ll feel like a product on an assembly line. Companies negotiate. Profiles shrink. Expectations lower. And yet, you play along.

You see friends cry in their rooms after getting rejected. You see brilliant folks not getting placed till the very last day. You cheer for them when they finally do – or stay silent because you got placed earlier and don’t know how to be happy without guilt.

This is when your real friends emerge. The ones who didn’t just drink coffee with you in Term 1 but sat with you in silence during summers.

What They Don’t Tell You

Your GPA matters way more than you think. The brand on your undergrad still follows you. Some seniors will ignore you; some will become family. No one’s journey here is the same. But the pressure? That’s equal-opportunity. And you never really get used to it – you just learn how to carry it better.

TL;DR

Prestige doesn’t guarantee respect. You fight for it every day.

Summers, PPOs, finals—nothing is predictable, except that it’ll be hard.

The best part of this journey? The resilience you build. And the people who help you build it.

If this resonates, I’ll write Part 2. But for now – this was the first year condensed into a few thousand words.