By Brian Dsouza, MiFPT2025
The first time I walked through the gates of London Business School, I wasn’t just a Merit Scholar—I was a symbol of second chances as this wasn’t just the start of a degree. It felt like the beginning of something redemptive.
Someone who had once stumbled just short of the finish line in the Indian Chartered Accountancy finals, only to learn that sometimes, the detour is the destination.
I remember pausing outside Sussex Place during Orientation—the weight of history humming through those timeless bricks, whispering stories of those who came before. In that quiet moment, a mix of hope, doubt, and resolve settled in. I didn’t arrive with a trust fund or a family office. I arrived with tenacity in my dreams and responsibility on speed dial.
In my first year, I threw myself into the classroom—unpacking the complexities of finance while fumbling through the black-tie jungle of networking, armed with a half-finished elevator pitch and the creeping suspicion that everyone else had received a memo I’d somehow missed. I clung to the belief that good grades would open doors I couldn’t afford to see closed. Beyond the lecture halls, I juggled long waitlists for doctors and lived in quiet worry for my parents’ health, carrying the weight of responsibility like a second backpack.
And yet—I stayed. I studied. I showed up.
If year one was a test of endurance, year two became a masterclass in revival. Somewhere between late-night submissions and long days at work, I decided to stop surviving and start shaping.
I chased every opportunity with the urgency of someone who knew what it felt like to be left out of the room. I signed up for treks, ran for ExCo roles, and threw myself into every competition.
Some called it overcommitting. I called it catching up: with purpose, with people, and with the version of myself I was determined to become.
Because I wasn’t recruiting—thanks to my full-time role at Citi—I poured that energy into building a network that wasn’t just broad, but intentional. Then came a happy accident: I enrolled in an elective that would go on to quietly and completely reshape my trajectory—Paths to Power. In one of Professor José de Areilza’s lectures, he said something that stuck with me: “A powerful network begins with a powerful brand.” That landed.
So, I got to work. I showed up to every event campus groups had to offer—usually overdressed, occasionally underprepared, and often posted up in the corner, beer in hand, trying to make small talk sound strategic. But I realised quickly: this was the perfect place to perfect my elevator pitch…one awkward laugh, one handshake at a time.
I applied to every Executive Committee role I could find and was welcomed into the TMRC Club’s Events & Conferences vertical with a simple mandate: organise one event every month. Challenge accepted.
I didn’t stop there, I reached out to the kinds of people students usually hesitate to approach—the seemingly unreachable. The CEOs. Icons. Executives. I invited them all. Some said yes. Some said not yet. But I asked anyway. Because these two years weren’t just about coursework—they were about course-setting. And if I was going to do this, I was going to give it my all.
Then came the event—my event. The one that changed everything. I wasn’t just another face in the crowd anymore—I was the one calling the shots, curating the questions, moderating the magic. That moment lit a fire that refused to flicker out.
From there, the journey took flight. I shared stages with the CEOs of global banks, brought Bollywood to Baker Street, and turned my calendar into a collage of coffee chats, keynote panels, and candid conversations with Managing Directors who now know me by name—and not just because of the spelling.
I hosted fireside chats that sparked insight and inspiration and stayed up late balancing assignments by day and baby scans by bedtime. The business school hustle? I lived it. Loved it. Led it. On my own terms.
There were days when the grind felt Herculean. A full-time job at Citi, part-time classes at Sussex Place, and a full-time role at home? That’s not a triple threat—it’s a logistical labyrinth. But I learned something valuable: leadership isn’t always loud.
I mentored applicants from dreamers to admits, served as a Student Ambassador for those trying to find their footing, and somewhere along the way, found mine.
And now, as I prepare to graduate, I’m honoured to have been awarded both the Student-led Outstanding Leadership Award and the Dean’s Award—a rare double for any student at LBS, and a deeply meaningful recognition of the journey that brought me here.
And I got here. Not by following a formula. Not by copying a case study. But by carving out my own story.
In the words of Frank Sinatra: Regrets? I’ve had a few… but then again, too few to mention. I lived this experience the only way I knew how—with audacity, authenticity, and a touch of absolute chaos. I wore many hats—student, son, employee, husband—and somehow kept them all from falling.
This wasn’t just a Masters. It was my magnum opus. A masterclass in managing mayhem, a lesson in living large while thinking deeply. And if you ask me how I pulled it off?
Well, let’s just say… I did it my way!
Find out more about our Masters in Finance Programmes here.