The unusual silence at my office proclaimed something about the decade that was about to lie down in history. Our office was shut down for two weeks, owing to the severe economic recession in this last year of the decade 2000-09. The thinking forum at my office did what it does best - thought to save some money at the end of the decade. All the pressure-cookerized employees welcomed the break and set-off their sights to a holidaying bonanza of 16 days, culminating with the new year celebrationz and loosely followed by the monday blues to attend the office on the first day of year twenty-ten (20-10) !!
My holidays began on December 19...plan was to set off on a holy trail of meeting wifey's relatives from Greater Noida - Delhi - Meerut - Haridwar - Rishikesh - Mussoorie. For one thing was sure, my wife will be in a very good mood thruout the entourage and i can take the liberty of rejuvenating myself alongside the holy waters of Maa Ganges, the stony highway till my destination, the deity jhulas of Rishikesh and chilling-numby winters of hill queen Mussoorie. I don't know that whenever you start thinking about your in-laws for the coming week(s), your body does not respond too well to such a thinking process and so there was I, running fever in excess of 102F, on Sunday. My body though of resting long enough before throwing itself to the damaad's welcome ceremony. From Monday morning, my body and myself were at the helm of our newly-purchased bed, loving it more than ever in recent times. I forced my visit to the doctor, who recommended the normal dosage for viral fever. Now, the mood turned from holidaying to sombre as viral generally takes 4-5 days to cool down. Same statement (I don't know that whenever you start thinking about your in-laws for the coming week(s), your body does not respond too well to such a thinking process) now applied to my wife who caught viral fever thinking that she will be thronged by her in-laws as planned to spend the holidays at our new heavenly abode.
Things and time turn faster than we think and X-mas arrived. Both of us felt much better and healthy enuf to throng the local shopping mall and buy some X-mas gifts for our naughty kiddo. The mall greeted us with a shock - people in thousands were present, parking space occupancy was almost full, and people were clashing with each other, though unintentionally. I cursed the westernization of our Indian culture and companies like Archies/Hallmark, who have make X-mas more popular than Diwali n Dussehra. But for sure, this was not the case. The parking attendant told that all this rush was due to the release of the new Aamir Khan starrer 3 Idiots. Again, my mind spinned through time space that why people would spend money and time to see a movie about idiots when we are always surrounded by such idiots thruout our lives. May be, the reason would be that these three guys were accepting that they are Idiots !! (who won't accept if he gets so much money in return). Even i paid for three tickets for watching the same movie next day and guys, let me tell you that this film will be a runaway hit for times to come. Everyone in us long to become like Rannchhod Lal Shyamlal Chanchad (aka Punshuk Wangdu), the whiz-kid in the movie, who gets everything - Prof's daughter, best frenz and genius brain.
So, we relaxed in the X-mas weekend and our bodies started giving signals that we can take them to the wanderer's trip from Sunday onwards. Thus, after kissing my wife's maayka on Sunday, we reached Meruth (i don't know who the hell spelt it Meerut) to masi's place, stayed overnite and zoomed to Haridwar the very next day. My wife queered the hell out of me for a cup of tea (she likes tea more than me, for obvious reasons) and i obliged her (as if there was some other way) by stopping the car for a tea-break just outside her second masi's place in Haridwar (just FYI, it is one of the very few towns in India, which is spelt in English in the very same it is pronounced in Hindi). Haridwar literally means Door of God and truly speaking, i suddenly felt a calmness in my mind and body after reaching there. The very next day, we went to Rishikesh and Har ki Pauri in Haridwar, mistaking the route from Bhaniawala to Rishikesh, which was by far the best road as per its scenic beauty and serenity. When you drive alongside the holy Ganges, your body adds to your enthusiasm and you yourself lift your mood. I loved every bit and moment of driving. However, it was sad to see people using two-wheelers on Lakshman Jhula and greedy pandits hovering over your head at Har kee Pauri. The water at the latter place was so cold that the fingers went numb the moment water came in contact. I really salute people who took bath in Ganges in that chilling water. We witnessed the Holy Aarti there and found ourselves a bit near to God. Our little kiddo was somehow in a devilish mood and rightaway refused to wear any cap to cover her head. Even God was not willing to help us in that matter and she won in not wearing any head-stuff till the aarti ended (to be contd............).
Monday, January 04, 2010
Sunday, October 28, 2007
Life@D-138, Part-III
I literally enjoyed working at Innodata and whenever I found time, we (me, Saurabh, and Nitu Bhaiya) talked only about Innodata at length and not anything else. Nitu Bhaiya liked English movies a lot and we our usual Bollywood ishtyle, so there was always a tussle between the three of us. He was a software junkie and used to spend sleepless nights while we rested our souls in the heavenly abode of D-138. That place meant a lots to us as we often felt as if we can spend our whole life-time here, much to the agony of our dear landlord. He always objected to our loud-music parties, which were pretty rare and had given us clear instructions that gals are not-at-all allowed in his house, which we often thought of owning.
As my Merc was getting older and older day-by-day, we often discussed the possibility of owning a joint car but to the chagrin of every one of us, we always went against that, considering our background of middle class families. Everyone used to say that how would the partition of such a joint property would take place, once we get married. Marriage was never on our minds but then every middle-class family boy thinks of that one day. The statement goes like: There is no point in remaining happy always, you should get married also. But, due to constant commutation problem, Saurabh decided to purchase a new 150cc mobike and I resolved to get my Merc repaired. Out of these two, one thing happened and the other is till getting to be done. The mobike costed somewhere around 50,000 INR and going by the salaries Innodata paid us, it was all but to get the bike cash-down. So, I offered an investment of 30, 000 INR and the rest was managed by Saurabh. So, me and Saurabh decided to put our hands on a navy blue Bajaj bike but with a condition that we want that to be delivered the same day we will pay the amount. As always, our destiny was against us and the dealer refused to deliver the navy-blue bike the same day, as he quoted some sort of shortage of the much publicized Hamara Bajaj bike. However, the dealer offered a black bike of the same model, which could be ours at once. Son, bang we decided and the black beauty was ours (I mean, Saurabh’s). The commutation problem was going to get solved, much to the disdain of any one of us, as one have to take a rickshaw any way to the office. We rotated turns and everyone enjoyed the rides, both of the black beauty and the rickshaw.
Innodata was about to get a new project that required a new leader to guide. Some guys were called to teach us the nitty-gritty of new project and eventually, choose a leader. I was considered too precious for my project (at least I thought so), so Saurabh was chosen to manage the project and giving him company was a PYT. Both were nominated by the company, which rose our importance of both of us in the organization. Both of us, being roommates, were considered to work very hard for our respective projects and our bosses also showed utter faith in both of us. Our responsibilities went on increasing and so did our liking for our job. We spend almost 12 hours in the office, returning just to have dinner and sleep. At some point of time, we were even called to attend offices at midnight when the servers crashed, considering the fact that our D-138 was located pretty near to Innodata.
As my Merc was getting older and older day-by-day, we often discussed the possibility of owning a joint car but to the chagrin of every one of us, we always went against that, considering our background of middle class families. Everyone used to say that how would the partition of such a joint property would take place, once we get married. Marriage was never on our minds but then every middle-class family boy thinks of that one day. The statement goes like: There is no point in remaining happy always, you should get married also. But, due to constant commutation problem, Saurabh decided to purchase a new 150cc mobike and I resolved to get my Merc repaired. Out of these two, one thing happened and the other is till getting to be done. The mobike costed somewhere around 50,000 INR and going by the salaries Innodata paid us, it was all but to get the bike cash-down. So, I offered an investment of 30, 000 INR and the rest was managed by Saurabh. So, me and Saurabh decided to put our hands on a navy blue Bajaj bike but with a condition that we want that to be delivered the same day we will pay the amount. As always, our destiny was against us and the dealer refused to deliver the navy-blue bike the same day, as he quoted some sort of shortage of the much publicized Hamara Bajaj bike. However, the dealer offered a black bike of the same model, which could be ours at once. Son, bang we decided and the black beauty was ours (I mean, Saurabh’s). The commutation problem was going to get solved, much to the disdain of any one of us, as one have to take a rickshaw any way to the office. We rotated turns and everyone enjoyed the rides, both of the black beauty and the rickshaw.
Innodata was about to get a new project that required a new leader to guide. Some guys were called to teach us the nitty-gritty of new project and eventually, choose a leader. I was considered too precious for my project (at least I thought so), so Saurabh was chosen to manage the project and giving him company was a PYT. Both were nominated by the company, which rose our importance of both of us in the organization. Both of us, being roommates, were considered to work very hard for our respective projects and our bosses also showed utter faith in both of us. Our responsibilities went on increasing and so did our liking for our job. We spend almost 12 hours in the office, returning just to have dinner and sleep. At some point of time, we were even called to attend offices at midnight when the servers crashed, considering the fact that our D-138 was located pretty near to Innodata.
Saturday, July 14, 2007
Life@D-138....The life moves on !!!!
So, after visits to various other rooms n houses, we three bachelorS designed to make D-138 as our den for the years to come. But the toughest part was yet to come.
In Noida, you are supposed to give one-month notice to your existing land-owner before you vacate the rented accomodation. Bhaiya (the son of D-138 owner), however, has asked us to inform him at the earliest if we are interested at all. So, me and Saurabh had two tasks in hand: negotiating with our existing land-owners and arranging money to give 3-months rent to Bhaiya (one-month running rent and two months security deposit).
We were a group of age about 25 yr. bachelors and the important thing is that we were not earning much at that point of time. We worked in the same company in Noida and there were no immediate plans to hunt for the new one. We never blamed ourselves for this as money hold no importance in our lives at that point of time, We were identified as one of the better employees of our company, who would not leave the company easily and therefore, the management never thought us of giving a decent hike to us. They always referred us to as the "pillars of the company" and we were more-than-happy in that. Our company dealed with content management services and it was really nice working over there for over five and a half years (experts opine that this is too long a period for an engineer for his first job). Since, that was a company that hired many fresh engineers, it happened to be the first jobs of many engineers. The friend circle built over there is as strong as concrete and we are still in touch with many. The company infrastructure excited one and all of our batch. We were enthralled to see the huge arrays of computer workstations, servers, cafeteria and the management block, which was clearly the best as far as aesthetics go. We were given the top floor to sit, which was beautifully designed using orange plywood. We were allotted to sit in rows of four each, having enough private space to interact and talk with each other. As the famous quote says "People leave their managers, not their companies", it suited us as we were lucky to have the best manager in the company as our boss. What a tough nut to crack he was. A thorough professional in approach though, he made us understood the live of an engineer, both professionally as well as socially. Sometimes, we blamed ourselves that we did nothing in our lives as "na naurkri mili na chhokri" approach. However, the "chalta hai" attitude of Indians helped us in continuing our job and at least, moving to a better place to live than those servant quarters.
"Woh lena dosto se paise udhaar....", sang Ali Haidar in his famous song, Purani jeans aur guitar....... Me and Saurabh were very much influenced by this song, which inspired us to take some udhaar from our friends so as to OWN D-138. How we became the self-proclaimed owners of that house, you will come to know. So, we fighted with our existing land-owners over the notice period and again, thinking or Google as our inspiration, me and Saurabh shifted our junk to D-138 within three hours, both helping each other, off course. In the mean while, Nitesh Bhaiya kept on answering the innumerable questions, thrown to him by the land lady. The land lady was a blessed soul as she understood it was tough being a bachelor boy in a lone city, away from home. The land lord, however, was though not such a gifted person as his wife is. He listed us with some rules and regulations, which only Nitesh bhaiya paid any heed to, as were really drained-up after the shifting exercise. After both of them went, we decided to go for a siesta, which was not hard to find by at that time. We decide to set the alarm for 4PM as Nitesh Bhaiya insisted that we hit a Hollywood movie that eveving. We really succeeded in getting his sponsorship for that and he agreed (as if there was any other way to take us along with him to see the movie).
In Noida, you are supposed to give one-month notice to your existing land-owner before you vacate the rented accomodation. Bhaiya (the son of D-138 owner), however, has asked us to inform him at the earliest if we are interested at all. So, me and Saurabh had two tasks in hand: negotiating with our existing land-owners and arranging money to give 3-months rent to Bhaiya (one-month running rent and two months security deposit).
We were a group of age about 25 yr. bachelors and the important thing is that we were not earning much at that point of time. We worked in the same company in Noida and there were no immediate plans to hunt for the new one. We never blamed ourselves for this as money hold no importance in our lives at that point of time, We were identified as one of the better employees of our company, who would not leave the company easily and therefore, the management never thought us of giving a decent hike to us. They always referred us to as the "pillars of the company" and we were more-than-happy in that. Our company dealed with content management services and it was really nice working over there for over five and a half years (experts opine that this is too long a period for an engineer for his first job). Since, that was a company that hired many fresh engineers, it happened to be the first jobs of many engineers. The friend circle built over there is as strong as concrete and we are still in touch with many. The company infrastructure excited one and all of our batch. We were enthralled to see the huge arrays of computer workstations, servers, cafeteria and the management block, which was clearly the best as far as aesthetics go. We were given the top floor to sit, which was beautifully designed using orange plywood. We were allotted to sit in rows of four each, having enough private space to interact and talk with each other. As the famous quote says "People leave their managers, not their companies", it suited us as we were lucky to have the best manager in the company as our boss. What a tough nut to crack he was. A thorough professional in approach though, he made us understood the live of an engineer, both professionally as well as socially. Sometimes, we blamed ourselves that we did nothing in our lives as "na naurkri mili na chhokri" approach. However, the "chalta hai" attitude of Indians helped us in continuing our job and at least, moving to a better place to live than those servant quarters.
"Woh lena dosto se paise udhaar....", sang Ali Haidar in his famous song, Purani jeans aur guitar....... Me and Saurabh were very much influenced by this song, which inspired us to take some udhaar from our friends so as to OWN D-138. How we became the self-proclaimed owners of that house, you will come to know. So, we fighted with our existing land-owners over the notice period and again, thinking or Google as our inspiration, me and Saurabh shifted our junk to D-138 within three hours, both helping each other, off course. In the mean while, Nitesh Bhaiya kept on answering the innumerable questions, thrown to him by the land lady. The land lady was a blessed soul as she understood it was tough being a bachelor boy in a lone city, away from home. The land lord, however, was though not such a gifted person as his wife is. He listed us with some rules and regulations, which only Nitesh bhaiya paid any heed to, as were really drained-up after the shifting exercise. After both of them went, we decided to go for a siesta, which was not hard to find by at that time. We decide to set the alarm for 4PM as Nitesh Bhaiya insisted that we hit a Hollywood movie that eveving. We really succeeded in getting his sponsorship for that and he agreed (as if there was any other way to take us along with him to see the movie).
Wednesday, September 13, 2006
I just love these lines from a great work: Hope, you will also enjoy:-)
When things go wrong.....don't go with them.
Zindagi hai choti , har pal mein khush raho…
Office me khush reho, ghar mein khush raho..
Aaj paneer nahi hai, dal mein hi khush raho,
Aaj gym jane ka samay nahi, do kadam chal ke he khush raho..
Aaj Dosto ka sath nahi, TV dekh ke hi khush raho..
Ghar ja nahi sakte to phone kar ke hi khush raho…
Aaj koi naraaz hai, uske iss andaz mein bhi khush raho..
Jise dekh nahi sakte uski awaz mein hi khush raho…
Jisse paa nahi sakte uske yaad mein he khush raho
MBA karne ka socha tha, S/W mein he khush raho…
Laptop na mila to kya, Desktop mein hi khush raho..
bita hua kal ja chuka hai, usse meethi yaadein hai, unme he khush raho..
aane wale pal ka pata nahi..sapno mein he khush raho..
Haste haste ye pal bitaenge, aaj mein he khush raho
Zindagi hai choti , har pal..........
When things go wrong.....don't go with them.
Zindagi hai choti , har pal mein khush raho…
Office me khush reho, ghar mein khush raho..
Aaj paneer nahi hai, dal mein hi khush raho,
Aaj gym jane ka samay nahi, do kadam chal ke he khush raho..
Aaj Dosto ka sath nahi, TV dekh ke hi khush raho..
Ghar ja nahi sakte to phone kar ke hi khush raho…
Aaj koi naraaz hai, uske iss andaz mein bhi khush raho..
Jise dekh nahi sakte uski awaz mein hi khush raho…
Jisse paa nahi sakte uske yaad mein he khush raho
MBA karne ka socha tha, S/W mein he khush raho…
Laptop na mila to kya, Desktop mein hi khush raho..
bita hua kal ja chuka hai, usse meethi yaadein hai, unme he khush raho..
aane wale pal ka pata nahi..sapno mein he khush raho..
Haste haste ye pal bitaenge, aaj mein he khush raho
Zindagi hai choti , har pal..........
Friday, July 07, 2006
Life@D-138 - Part I
D-138 at Sector-20, NOIDA, India. Do bells start ringing?? I doubt. This is a street address that changed my life. Here, I explain HOW ??
While doing a job in Noida, I was looking for a appropriate room for renting (I was a bachelor then). Searching a room for bachelors is an uphill task in itself in India. Landlords & landladies don’t entertain you. At times I felt that these lords and ladies of their land, should hang a board, depicting, Bachelors and d… not allowed. I never felt the sulphuric acid urge of getting married, till the time I was searching a room for bachelorS. The capital ‘S’ in bachelorS is intentional. This was my first foray to live with my two friends, forming a total of three bachelorS. How this three converted into four, is a story in itself. So, there were we…searching a room or a flat, as you like it, on scorching Sunday afternoons in June 2003. We ran from pillar to post (office), property dealers and paan-shop dealers, from girl-friends (still confused !!) to girl’s friends, from news papers to new papers and what not. It was the “Google-enabled search” of our lifetime. However, the results are not going to come in 0.1 seconds, as generally the time taken by Google for searching every bullshit you type.
Bhagwaan ke ghar der hai, andher nahin..goes thepopular Hindi proverb. So, one of the thousands of Sunday newspaper’s supplements, was a letter from God. One of the property ad read: Ground floor, 2BR apartment vacant, BACHELORS needed. This gave me a momentarily feel-good factor of being a bachelor. Atleast, some sane humans on this planet believe in the species called bachelors. The ad mentioned an address below the details: D-138, Sector-20….BANG!!!! We loaded ourselves with clothes….oops, before that we took an early-Sunday shower, got an elegant shave, and decide to storm D-138. So, Mercedes was out after so many days….this is slang for my 1998 model LML Vespa scooter. My two other bachelor fiends were well-off with a pulsar motorbike. Before going on, I would like to introduce my other two soul-mates, Saurabh and Nitu Bhaiya (Nitesh)….I never understood why we called him bhaiya despite that he was younger than the other two. .
Ding-dong….ding-dong…the bell at D-138 sounded like the traditional Indian bell-next-door. I wonder why people are not attracted by new cacophonous door-bell ring tones. They have the power of waking you up even from the deepest of your dreams. So, we were greeted (??) by an elderly lady and her not-so-younger son who showed us the flat, highlighting its USPs and taking a roundabout about its shortcomings. More interesting was our chat with the landlady who interviewed us from toe to head, east to west and from zero to infinity. I though I would land up drawing up my family tree before her (I really never ever paid heed to my clan details). The three of us felt that it would have better, if we would have appeared in an interview for a post that would topple Bill Gates as MS Chairman.
The gist of the story is that finally, we got succeeded in getting hold of D-138.
Friday, June 23, 2006
IT people
Got this from some unidentified source but says a blunt truth:
In the confines of cubicles, by artificial light,
Sipping coffee from the machines day and night.
Speaking on phones, in meetings we sit.
Staring the monitor, the keyboard(s) we hit.
Far away from loved ones whom for days we do not meet.
Remembering them, working, on our seat.
Working away from homes and loved ones in places afar.
This is the kind of IT people we are !!!
In the confines of cubicles, by artificial light,
Sipping coffee from the machines day and night.
Speaking on phones, in meetings we sit.
Staring the monitor, the keyboard(s) we hit.
Far away from loved ones whom for days we do not meet.
Remembering them, working, on our seat.
Working away from homes and loved ones in places afar.
This is the kind of IT people we are !!!
Monday, June 19, 2006
Project Manager & Patriotism
One of my friends forwadred this to me. Go ahead, you won't regret reading it.
Vivek wasn't a happy man. Even the plush comfort of the First Class air-conditioned compartment of the Shatabdi express couldn’t cool his frayed nerves. He was the Project Manager and still not entitled to air travel. It was not the prestige he sought; he had tried to reason with the admin guy, it was the savings in time. A PM had so many things to do!
He opened his case and took out the laptop, determined to put the time to some good use.
"Are you from the software industry sir," the man beside him was staring appreciatively at the laptop.
Vivek glanced briefly and mumbled in affirmation, handling the laptop now with exaggerated care and importance as if it were an expensive car.
"You people have brought so much advancement to the country sir. Today everything is getting computerized."
"Thanks," smiled Vivek, turning around to give the man a look.
He always found it difficult to resist appreciation. The man was young and stocky like a sportsman. He looked simple and strangely out of place in that little lap of luxury like a small town boy in a prep school. He probably was a Railway sportsman making the most of his free traveling pass.
"You people always amaze me," the man continued, "You sit in an office and write something on a computer and it does so many big things outside."
Vivek smiled deprecatingly. Naivety demanded reasoning Not anger. "It is not as simple as that my friend. It is not just A question of writing a few lines. There is a lot of process that Goes behind it." For a moment he was tempted to explain the entire Software Development Lifecycle but restrained himself to a Single statement. "It is complex, very complex."
"It has to be. No wonder you people are so highly paid," came the reply. This was not turning out as Vivek had thought. A hint of belligerence came into his so far affable, persuasive tone.
"Everyone just sees the money. No one sees the amount of hard work we have to put in." "Hard work!" "Indians have such a narrow concept of hard work. Just because we sit in an air-conditioned office doesn't mean our brows don't sweat. You exercise the muscle; we exercise the mind and believe me that is no less taxing."
He had the man where he wanted him and it was time to drive home the point. "Let me give you an example. Take this train. The entire railway reservation system is computerized. You can book a train ticket between any two stations from any of the hundreds of computerized booking centers across the country.
Thousands of transactions accessing a single database at a given time; concurrency, data integrity, locking, data security. Do you understand the complexity in designing and coding such a system?"
The man was stuck with amazement, like a child at a planetarium. This was something big and beyond his imagination. "You design and code such things."
"I used to," Vivek paused for effect, "But now I am the Project manager,"
"Oh!" sighed the man, as if the storm had passed over, "so your life is easy now."
It was like being told the fire was better than the frying pan. The man had to be given a feel of the heat.
"Oh come on, does life ever get easy as you go up the ladder. Responsibility only brings more work. Design and coding! That is the easier part. Now I don't do it, but I am responsible for it and believe me, that is far more stressful. My job is to get the work done in time and with the highest quality. And to tell you about the pressures! There is the customer at one end always changing his requirements, the user wanting something else and your boss always expecting you to have finished it yesterday."
Vivek paused in his diatribe, his belligerence fading With self-realisation. What he had said was not merely the Outburst of a wronged man, it was the truth. And one need not get Angry while defending the truth. "My friend," he concluded triumphantly, "you don't know what it is to be in the line of fire."
The man sat back in his chair, his eyes closed as if in realization. When he spoke after sometime, it was with a calm certainty that surprised Vivek.
"I know sir, I know what it is to be in the line of fire," He was staring blankly as if no passenger, no train existed, just a vast expanse of time.
"There were 30 of us when we were ordered to capture Point 4875 in the cover of the night. The enemy was firing from the top. There was no knowing where the next bullet was going to come from and for whom. In the morning when we finally hoisted the tricolor at the top only 4 of us were alive."
"You are a..."
"I am Subedar Sushant from the 13 J&K Rifles on duty at Peak 4875 in Kargil. They tell me I have completed my term and can opt for a land assignment. But tell me sir, can one give up duty just because it makes life easier. On the dawn of that capture one of my colleagues lay injured in the snow, open to enemy fire while we were hiding behind a bunker. It was my job to go and fetch that soldier to safety. But my captain refused me permission and went ahead himself. He said that the first pledge he had taken as a Gentleman Cadet was to put the safety and welfare of the nation foremost followed by the safety and welfare of the men he commanded. His own personal safety came last, always and every time. He was killed as he shielded that soldier into the bunker. Every morning now as I stand guard I can see him taking all those bullets, which were actually meant for me. I know sir, I know what it is to be in the line of fire."
Vivek looked at him in disbelief not sure of his reply. Abruptly he switched off the laptop. It seemed trivial, even insulting to edit a word document in the presence of a man for whom valor and duty was a daily part of life; a valor and sense of duty which he had so far attributed only to epical heroes. The train slowed down as it pulled into the station and Subedar Sushant picked up his bags to alight.
"It was nice meeting you sir."
Vivek fumbled with the handshake. This was the hand that had climbed mountains, pressed the trigger and hoisted the tricolor. Suddenly as if by impulse he stood at attention, and his right hand went up in an impromptu salute. It was the least he felt he could do for the country.
PS: The incident he narrates during the capture of Peak 4875 is a true life incident during the Kargil war. Major Batra Sacrificed his life while trying to save one of the men he commanded, as victory was within sight.
For this and his various other acts of bravery he was awarded the Param Vir Chakra - the nation's highest military award.
Live humbly, there are great people around us, let us learn!
Vivek wasn't a happy man. Even the plush comfort of the First Class air-conditioned compartment of the Shatabdi express couldn’t cool his frayed nerves. He was the Project Manager and still not entitled to air travel. It was not the prestige he sought; he had tried to reason with the admin guy, it was the savings in time. A PM had so many things to do!
He opened his case and took out the laptop, determined to put the time to some good use.
"Are you from the software industry sir," the man beside him was staring appreciatively at the laptop.
Vivek glanced briefly and mumbled in affirmation, handling the laptop now with exaggerated care and importance as if it were an expensive car.
"You people have brought so much advancement to the country sir. Today everything is getting computerized."
"Thanks," smiled Vivek, turning around to give the man a look.
He always found it difficult to resist appreciation. The man was young and stocky like a sportsman. He looked simple and strangely out of place in that little lap of luxury like a small town boy in a prep school. He probably was a Railway sportsman making the most of his free traveling pass.
"You people always amaze me," the man continued, "You sit in an office and write something on a computer and it does so many big things outside."
Vivek smiled deprecatingly. Naivety demanded reasoning Not anger. "It is not as simple as that my friend. It is not just A question of writing a few lines. There is a lot of process that Goes behind it." For a moment he was tempted to explain the entire Software Development Lifecycle but restrained himself to a Single statement. "It is complex, very complex."
"It has to be. No wonder you people are so highly paid," came the reply. This was not turning out as Vivek had thought. A hint of belligerence came into his so far affable, persuasive tone.
"Everyone just sees the money. No one sees the amount of hard work we have to put in." "Hard work!" "Indians have such a narrow concept of hard work. Just because we sit in an air-conditioned office doesn't mean our brows don't sweat. You exercise the muscle; we exercise the mind and believe me that is no less taxing."
He had the man where he wanted him and it was time to drive home the point. "Let me give you an example. Take this train. The entire railway reservation system is computerized. You can book a train ticket between any two stations from any of the hundreds of computerized booking centers across the country.
Thousands of transactions accessing a single database at a given time; concurrency, data integrity, locking, data security. Do you understand the complexity in designing and coding such a system?"
The man was stuck with amazement, like a child at a planetarium. This was something big and beyond his imagination. "You design and code such things."
"I used to," Vivek paused for effect, "But now I am the Project manager,"
"Oh!" sighed the man, as if the storm had passed over, "so your life is easy now."
It was like being told the fire was better than the frying pan. The man had to be given a feel of the heat.
"Oh come on, does life ever get easy as you go up the ladder. Responsibility only brings more work. Design and coding! That is the easier part. Now I don't do it, but I am responsible for it and believe me, that is far more stressful. My job is to get the work done in time and with the highest quality. And to tell you about the pressures! There is the customer at one end always changing his requirements, the user wanting something else and your boss always expecting you to have finished it yesterday."
Vivek paused in his diatribe, his belligerence fading With self-realisation. What he had said was not merely the Outburst of a wronged man, it was the truth. And one need not get Angry while defending the truth. "My friend," he concluded triumphantly, "you don't know what it is to be in the line of fire."
The man sat back in his chair, his eyes closed as if in realization. When he spoke after sometime, it was with a calm certainty that surprised Vivek.
"I know sir, I know what it is to be in the line of fire," He was staring blankly as if no passenger, no train existed, just a vast expanse of time.
"There were 30 of us when we were ordered to capture Point 4875 in the cover of the night. The enemy was firing from the top. There was no knowing where the next bullet was going to come from and for whom. In the morning when we finally hoisted the tricolor at the top only 4 of us were alive."
"You are a..."
"I am Subedar Sushant from the 13 J&K Rifles on duty at Peak 4875 in Kargil. They tell me I have completed my term and can opt for a land assignment. But tell me sir, can one give up duty just because it makes life easier. On the dawn of that capture one of my colleagues lay injured in the snow, open to enemy fire while we were hiding behind a bunker. It was my job to go and fetch that soldier to safety. But my captain refused me permission and went ahead himself. He said that the first pledge he had taken as a Gentleman Cadet was to put the safety and welfare of the nation foremost followed by the safety and welfare of the men he commanded. His own personal safety came last, always and every time. He was killed as he shielded that soldier into the bunker. Every morning now as I stand guard I can see him taking all those bullets, which were actually meant for me. I know sir, I know what it is to be in the line of fire."
Vivek looked at him in disbelief not sure of his reply. Abruptly he switched off the laptop. It seemed trivial, even insulting to edit a word document in the presence of a man for whom valor and duty was a daily part of life; a valor and sense of duty which he had so far attributed only to epical heroes. The train slowed down as it pulled into the station and Subedar Sushant picked up his bags to alight.
"It was nice meeting you sir."
Vivek fumbled with the handshake. This was the hand that had climbed mountains, pressed the trigger and hoisted the tricolor. Suddenly as if by impulse he stood at attention, and his right hand went up in an impromptu salute. It was the least he felt he could do for the country.
PS: The incident he narrates during the capture of Peak 4875 is a true life incident during the Kargil war. Major Batra Sacrificed his life while trying to save one of the men he commanded, as victory was within sight.
For this and his various other acts of bravery he was awarded the Param Vir Chakra - the nation's highest military award.
Live humbly, there are great people around us, let us learn!
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