"And, thats how its done", Kesavan said as he clicked on the 'off' button of the telecon instrument.
Kesavan was a born-seller. However, it always gave him the kicks whenever he closed a deal. His face beamed when his colleagues surrounded him congratulating the deal he just clinched over the phone for a million dollar project with Matuka Electronics. The largest ever deal for his company, iBend Technologies. For iBend, which was planning layoffs due to lack of projects, it was a life-saving deal.
As Kesavan walked out of office, he walked into the auto-rickshaw stand in front of his office, and gave the location of his home, to one of the drivers.
"How much", Kesavan asked the auto-driver.
"150 Rupees"
"WHAT? did you take me for an idiot? 150 Rupees for 6 kilometers is atrocious!", screamed Kesavan.
"What sir? From there I wont get a passenger on the way back, plus that is a god-forsaken place. You will have to take a train and a bus and walk to your area...", reasoned the driver unreasonably. His sir sounded like 'saar', rather than sir.
"80 Rupees and not a penny over that", Kesavan - the born seller was stubborn.
"Okay, give me 140 rupees...", the driver was no less a seller, and rude.
"80 Rupees, and thats it!", Kesavan said, walking away from the auto - The usual trick of auto-going-bargainers.
As Kesavan walked, he could see that it was already 10PM and the road was sparse with automobiles. It would be difficult for him to find another auto at this time, let alone a bus to reach the train station.
"seri sir, give me 125 rupees", the auto-driver was now driving alongside Kesavan, prolonging the bargaining. The walk-away trick had worked.
"This is dacoity", Kesavan said in a loud voice, "80 Rupees and no more..."
After another 100 meters of walking and driving alongside, they settled for 90 rupees.
The auto sped through the city lights with two born sellers.
X---------------X----------------X
"Seriously, am wondering why auto-drivers demand so much more than what the ride is worth...", Kesavan was genuinely interested in knowing.
"Petrol costs are going up, sir. Its not easy to lead a life nowadays", started the driver, delving into the usual rant, and listing reasons for why they 'robbed' their customers.
"Let me ask you this... how much mileage does your auto give?"
"Not much, sir.."
"How much?"
"20 Km per litre sir"
"Even assuming you don't get any passengers on your way back, you can drop me and come back - 12 Kms, for a little more than half a litre, which is 25 rupees, even giving the same amount as profit, it costs only 50 Rupees. But auto-drivers usually charge 80 Rupees. Why is that? And why did you ask me 150 rupees? Isn't it atrocious?", Kesavan was intent on proving to this fellow that they were unreasonable.
"Sir... you promised 90 rupees...", the driver slowed the auto to the left, worrying if Kesavan was bargaining again.
"Okay, Okay, I will give you 90 rupees. I have promised that and I will give you that.", Kesavan was quick to reply. They were really traveling on a god-forsaken road.
The driver continued driving.
"But, I want to know. Tell me, wasn't my calculation right?", persisted Kesavan.
"uh... ys", said the driver, gulping the 'yes' down his throat, even feeling a bit guilty. But he was no less talkative, and went into a deep conversation.
"You don't look like a native sir, thats why I thought I could make some extra money"
"What? so you will cheat a guy who doesn't know the place?". This wasn't the first time Kesavan was taken for an out-of-towner. He definitely didn't look like a localite.
"uh... but whats wrong in giving it a try sir? I swear, if I had known that you were a localite, I wouldn't have asked you so much...", the driver sounded genuine by now.
But after 10 more minutes, Kesavan finally convinced him. They were getting more casual as they talked. The driver lowered his tone and was more respectful now.
"Next time on, I will ask only 90 rupees, sir", said the driver finally.
"What 90 rupees? 80 rupees next time... otherwise how do you think I will ever come back to you? Repeat customers are important, don't you think so?"
"..."
"I wont come again for 90 rupees. Say 80 rupees, and I will come to your auto everytime I want to come home"
"Okay, sir. 80 rupees. But you must come often sir, we depend on people like you for our living..."
"Definitely. Now we are talking", Kesavan's face was aglow again. "And, thats how its done", he told himself.
"My name is Vinny sir, next time you come to our stand, ask for me, sir", he said, as Kesavan paid 90 bucks, while getting down at his home.
X---------------X----------------X
Matuka wasn't an easy customer to please, and iBend had a tough time getting through the project. iBend was still barely scraping by. It was worry time again, but it didn't dawn on Kesavan, until he got a mail from John Alter, his US boss, who demanded to know why Kesavan wasn't able to bag even a single deal since Matuka.
"But, John, am a project manager. Its true that I helped close deals, but that wasn't my job. I'm supposed to be leading projects, not getting them", Kesavan said in a pleading tone over the telephone.
"...", we couldn't hear what John was saying on the other end.
"But, I have been involved in so many other tasks, that I hardly got to spend time with my team..."
"..."
"But, how many things can I handle at the same time?"
"..."
"But... don't you remember that I helped clinch the Matuka deal, that saved iBend? I have sweated my blood for the company..."
"..."
"No... But, now look at it this way...", Kesavan had hardly finished the sentence. There was a click and the line went blank on the other end.
X---------------X----------------X
Kesavan walked down to Vinny's auto and got in, brooding over the conversation with John.
"You are just the second business for today sir. Bad business. Its the month of Adi, and there aren't many marriages... But am glad you came sir. At least I can lighten up talking to you. I got to go home anyway after dropping you... my wife will be waiting for the money..."
Vinny was talkative, as usual. But he was quick to notice that Kesavan was not talking much.
"What sir, did I say something I shouldn't have said?"
"No, no... its just something at office"
"If you don't mind, you could tell me about it, sir. They say it lightens up your heart when you narrate your woes to a monkey", he paused and grinned at his metaphor. "You can call me a monkey, sir, I dont mind...", he said, winking at the rear-view mirror, looking at Kesavan.
Kesavan was taken aback. He had never thought about talking such stuff to anybody - not even his wife - leave alone an auto-driver.
Vinny stopped the auto at a tea shop and ordered tea and cigarettes for them. As they sat there in the bench of the tatched tea-shop, on the road-side, buzzing with activity, dragging on their cigarettes, Kesavan narrated his story at office in short, in a way that Vinny could understand. Then there was silence – but for the honks of the vehicles passing by. They sat contemplating, sipping at the tea, watching the busy road.
"hmmm, we outsiders think that a software engineer's job is easy, sir. That you get to spend all the time in an air-conditioned room and have it easy... But you have a lot of things to worry about too. At this level of pressure, your salary is well deserved, sir", said Vinny, breaking the silence.
"What...uh...", Kesavan was almost stammering. He had never seen anybody in other professions talk like that about software engineers.
"..."
"Sir, don't mistake my saying this... but what happened today is not important in your life, sir. Its just a test of your character, your self-confidence"
"uh..."
"Yes. Your life will not end if you lose your job."
"Its not just the job, Vinny... you do not understand. I have my home-loan payment to make. I have other expenses. Am responsible for the welfare of my wife and kids. Come the first of the month, I have bills to pay... With a sudden loss of job, I will be on the street."
"Look at the old man there, cleaning the plates. He must be 65. Why does he work at this age? He has bills to pay too... Everybody's bills are as big as their salaries. He does not have pension. He does not have the benefits that your job entitles you to. If he falls sick tomorrow, he won't be paid. But today he is healthy. He is working."
"..."
"The fear of tomorrow is real and looms in front of everybody. Everybody works for a better tomorrow. But when you expect your job to take care of you, things crumble with your job. You would stoop low to protect your job."
"..."
"Theres a point where your self-esteem should kick in, telling you that *you* are more important than your job"
"..."
"Sir, you are highly educated and skilled, that is why you are employed by that big company, while me and this old man are not. Theres no guarantee of job for him or me. We do not know if we will be able to earn tomorrow's wages. When we can lead life with our head held high, why do you have to be a slave to your job?"
"..."
"You should be more confident that you will be able to land a job or run a business of your own than we are. But here we are, you are worried if you will be able to meet the next month's bills, and we are not!"
It began to dawn on Kesavan. He had always thought of his job as paying his living rather than for his skills. He had this idea of his job paying his bills. He had equated his job to his liabilities.
"You are right Vinny. I had expected my job to take care of my bills, instead of myself. I trade my skills for money. My job doesn't pay my bills. I do. My skills do..."
"Yes sir, and if you can close a deal worth a million dollars for your company, why can't you do it yourself?"
"Yes, why do I have to depend on *this* company. I have to depend on my skills"
"You are worth every penny they pay you. Why should you be scared that they will throw you out..."
"I shouldn't be stooping low to save my job, its not like they are paying me for charity. They use my expertise for the money they pay..."
"Yes, if they can't pay for your expertise..."
"I will throw them out of my life, and seek a company that can pay for my level of expertise, or better still start a venture of my own...", high of energy of the sudden realization that dawned on him.
"...and thats how its done.", said Vinny startling Kesavan with his own words. The sale was made.
X---------------X----------------X
They kept talking till they reached Kesavan's house.
"It takes guts to take responsibility of your life on your own. But its all in here, sir", Vinny said pointing to his chest, where he believed his guts would be.
"Start a venture of your own, start a life of self-esteem, sir. If you make it big, you would leave behind a better life for your son, sir. If you don't, and barely make it, you still would leave behind a legacy of self-esteem and confidence to your son, sir. After all thats what every one of us wants to do... see our children and grand-children, in better shape than we are."
Kesavan sat thinking about the sudden change that Vinny had brought about in him.
"Sir, we are there...", Vinny interrupted his thoughts. Kesavan pulled out a 100 rupee bill from his pocket, and handed it to Vinny.
"Don't...", he said, stopping Vinny who was searching his pocket.
"But sir, I should return 20 rupees..."
"Don't...", Kesavan repeated again, staring at the dark, skinny face. Vinny wasn't used to this. Kesavan had always been demanding of the 20 rupees.
"Sir... sir... have I said something wrong?", he asked hesitantly.
"Don't... you are worth every penny of it", Kesavan said, still staring at Vinny.
Thursday, August 03, 2006
Thursday, July 27, 2006
Answerable
"Call me paddy", Padmanabhan said as he got into Jayanth's car.
"What?", Jayanth said, opening his door, stepping out and looking at 'Paddy' Padmanabhan.
"...", shrugged Paddy.
"What changed in just 6 months?", Jayanth couln't believe Padmanabhan had changed so in just six months in the USA.
"just call me Paddy, man", Paddy said, ignoring Jayanth's exasperated look.
'Paddy' Padmanabhan has just arrived in India.
X-------------X-------------X
The car made a screeching sound, as Jayanth braked in the middle of nowhere.
"what?", Paddy said looking around. He was holding his stomach.
"You wanted to pee...!"
"not here?!"
"of course here..."
"nah, nah, nah... naw here man... drive around to a restroom"
"WHAT?"
Jayanth finally found a restroom shack on the way home.
"Ow, that was dirty, and no water... hey, where can I get some water", Paddy came out of the 'Gents Toilet' waving his hands up in the air.
The rough looking boy there handed out a piece of old newspaper. The storage techniques weren't that good, which was obvious.
"hey , hey, hey, wait... why are you paying him money? you don't pay for the restrooms here, do you?", Paddy asked Jayanth."aw, forget it man", Jayanth said flipping over a two rupee coin to the boy pointing to the "Use and pay toilet" board with his left.
Paddy turned around. He had by now forgotten all about his need for water, and had his hands in his coat pocket by now.
"Well, it says 1 rupee, why are you paying two?"
"ah, you can't have forgotten everything, Padma... er Paddy", mocked Jayanth.
Paddy tried to snatch the two bucks lying on the table. The rough looking boy beat him to it.
"You haven't cleaned that place in a month...", Paddy confronted the boy.
The body stared back angrily. He looked a lot older and rougher by now.
"... and you charge double the money you should have charged if you had kept it in order...", Paddy wasn't buckling down.
"Do you know how much it costs to get this contract?", the boy was now snarling at Paddy, "And do you know that our MLA doe
sn't like being questioned?"
"Lets see that, who is your MLA?"
"... and I don't like being questioned either..", the boy slammed angrily on the desk.
"You contractors are answerable to us..."
"is it?", the boy now had his dirty cuffs rolled up and fists ready. One could see fear in Paddy's eyes. But he couldn't ba
ck off after all that had happened.
"Hey, hey", Jayanth intervened, pushing the boy who had gotten menacingly close to Paddy. He shoved Paddy a bit with his le
ft hand.
"SHUT UP!", Jayanth screamed to Paddy, as he tried to press forward.
"Hey, you boy, make sure it is cleaned the next time we are around", Jayanth said winking at the boy, flipping another buck
on the table.
"you bet, sir", the boy winked back, and snarled at Paddy.
Jayanth pulled Paddy away from the scene.
X-------------X-------------X
"Stop showing off your american mentality here man"
"Aw, you guys are so used to mediocrity... you dont even question all the injustice that doled out at you..."
"I can't believe you could have changed so much. Are you really this mess, or are you acting like one?", Jayanth had by now
lost his patience.
"look, look, that cop is talking on his mobile phone. He doesn't even care that guy jumped the amber light. Isn't he answer
able to anybody at all?"
Jayanth looked around, and before he could open his mouth, Paddy slammed on the brake stopping the car exactly at the 'STOP
' line.
"No", screamed Jayanth. But nobody could heard him.
A car and three bikes had stacked up, and an auto almost rolled over scratching his esteem - Esteem being Jayanth's car.
X-------------X-------------X
"Life is so much more predictable inside the office", smiled Paddy broadly, as he brought over his plate of lunch to the ta
ble.
"Am sooo glad..", winked Jayanth.
"No, seriously, you were right, I have learnt some things after coming back". Paddy now had a driver to drive him to work and back.
"good"
"And I don't take those mediocrities so seriously now...", Paddy rattled on. "Now whats life without a little laugh?"
Jayanth was really happy that Paddy had given up his illusionary ways.
"Hey, whats this...", Paddy said fishing out a longish hairy thread like object out of his plate.
"Thats spinach... the stem", Jayanth offered.
"No, No.. look at the color... its brown"
"It has been cooked well", Jayanth shrugged, rolling his eyes.
"No, No, am sure this is the leg of some bug... let me see.. cockroach? In the US, I can sue the caterer for this... make him pay for his mistakes...", Paddy turned around, to find Jayanth missing at the table.
"What?", Jayanth said, opening his door, stepping out and looking at 'Paddy' Padmanabhan.
"...", shrugged Paddy.
"What changed in just 6 months?", Jayanth couln't believe Padmanabhan had changed so in just six months in the USA.
"just call me Paddy, man", Paddy said, ignoring Jayanth's exasperated look.
'Paddy' Padmanabhan has just arrived in India.
X-------------X-------------X
The car made a screeching sound, as Jayanth braked in the middle of nowhere.
"what?", Paddy said looking around. He was holding his stomach.
"You wanted to pee...!"
"not here?!"
"of course here..."
"nah, nah, nah... naw here man... drive around to a restroom"
"WHAT?"
Jayanth finally found a restroom shack on the way home.
"Ow, that was dirty, and no water... hey, where can I get some water", Paddy came out of the 'Gents Toilet' waving his hands up in the air.
The rough looking boy there handed out a piece of old newspaper. The storage techniques weren't that good, which was obvious.
"hey , hey, hey, wait... why are you paying him money? you don't pay for the restrooms here, do you?", Paddy asked Jayanth."aw, forget it man", Jayanth said flipping over a two rupee coin to the boy pointing to the "Use and pay toilet" board with his left.
Paddy turned around. He had by now forgotten all about his need for water, and had his hands in his coat pocket by now.
"Well, it says 1 rupee, why are you paying two?"
"ah, you can't have forgotten everything, Padma... er Paddy", mocked Jayanth.
Paddy tried to snatch the two bucks lying on the table. The rough looking boy beat him to it.
"You haven't cleaned that place in a month...", Paddy confronted the boy.
The body stared back angrily. He looked a lot older and rougher by now.
"... and you charge double the money you should have charged if you had kept it in order...", Paddy wasn't buckling down.
"Do you know how much it costs to get this contract?", the boy was now snarling at Paddy, "And do you know that our MLA doe
sn't like being questioned?"
"Lets see that, who is your MLA?"
"... and I don't like being questioned either..", the boy slammed angrily on the desk.
"You contractors are answerable to us..."
"is it?", the boy now had his dirty cuffs rolled up and fists ready. One could see fear in Paddy's eyes. But he couldn't ba
ck off after all that had happened.
"Hey, hey", Jayanth intervened, pushing the boy who had gotten menacingly close to Paddy. He shoved Paddy a bit with his le
ft hand.
"SHUT UP!", Jayanth screamed to Paddy, as he tried to press forward.
"Hey, you boy, make sure it is cleaned the next time we are around", Jayanth said winking at the boy, flipping another buck
on the table.
"you bet, sir", the boy winked back, and snarled at Paddy.
Jayanth pulled Paddy away from the scene.
X-------------X-------------X
"Stop showing off your american mentality here man"
"Aw, you guys are so used to mediocrity... you dont even question all the injustice that doled out at you..."
"I can't believe you could have changed so much. Are you really this mess, or are you acting like one?", Jayanth had by now
lost his patience.
"look, look, that cop is talking on his mobile phone. He doesn't even care that guy jumped the amber light. Isn't he answer
able to anybody at all?"
Jayanth looked around, and before he could open his mouth, Paddy slammed on the brake stopping the car exactly at the 'STOP
' line.
"No", screamed Jayanth. But nobody could heard him.
A car and three bikes had stacked up, and an auto almost rolled over scratching his esteem - Esteem being Jayanth's car.
X-------------X-------------X
"Life is so much more predictable inside the office", smiled Paddy broadly, as he brought over his plate of lunch to the ta
ble.
"Am sooo glad..", winked Jayanth.
"No, seriously, you were right, I have learnt some things after coming back". Paddy now had a driver to drive him to work and back.
"good"
"And I don't take those mediocrities so seriously now...", Paddy rattled on. "Now whats life without a little laugh?"
Jayanth was really happy that Paddy had given up his illusionary ways.
"Hey, whats this...", Paddy said fishing out a longish hairy thread like object out of his plate.
"Thats spinach... the stem", Jayanth offered.
"No, No.. look at the color... its brown"
"It has been cooked well", Jayanth shrugged, rolling his eyes.
"No, No, am sure this is the leg of some bug... let me see.. cockroach? In the US, I can sue the caterer for this... make him pay for his mistakes...", Paddy turned around, to find Jayanth missing at the table.
Thursday, July 13, 2006
If freedom is the cost of security
It was an unusually empty train car for a peak hour - even for a first class compartment. Iftikar made himself comfortable in a seat, and tried to relax, as the train pulled out of Churchgate. He tried to pull out the earphone for his mp3 player from his bag, and out came a jumbled mess of cables of all types, and other gadgets. Iftikar patiently untangled the wires, looking around him.
"Hey you, Whats your name?", he heard somebody close to him say, as a lathi loomed large between his face and the wires.
Iftikar looked up. It was a railway police constable, not so friendly. The scar on his face and the rough cuts made it obvious that he was a street cop.
"uh..um... Iftikar...Iftikar Ali, sir", mumbled Iftikar.
"What have you got in your bag?", the constable looked suspiciously at the bag, while keeping distance as much and possible and letting his long lathi do the gesturing.
"uh, mp3... walkman sir..."
"And whats that?"
Pulling his amateurish SLR from the tangled mess of wires, while attempting to stand up, Iftikar said, "pen-drive ..."
He did not finish his sentence, he was pulled down from the seat and his bag thrown roughly on the window - like the constable was trying to throw the bag out of the train.
Iftikar pulled himself up angrily, and was dealt another blow on his hands.
"Dont move", said the constable, now fishing for the bag with his left hand, and controlling the fallen Iftikar with his lathi on the right.
Cornered and alone, Iftikar watched the other passengers huddle towards the other end of the car.
In the meanwhile, the train was making its dutiful run down the tracks towards Marine Lines.
X-------------X------------X
The constable started pulling out the wired mess which was attached timers of all sorts carefully.
"Whats this?"
"My headphone cable sir", answered Iftikar weakly.
"This?"
"Charger for my mp3..."
"What about the yellow wire"
"Thats the handsfree for my mobile..."
"...and this bag..."
"batteries and a flash-card...sir"
The constable didn't fully understand the terms, but continued the questioning. He seemed to be looking for a flaw in the logic of Iftikar's sentences, rather than the answer itself.
"Why do you need batteries?"
"For the camera... sir"
"Why are you carrying a camera?"
"Am an amateur photographer sir..."
"Armchair what?..."
"photo..grapher"
By now, having dumped all the contents of Iftikar's bag and found nothing, the constable still looked at Iftikar with suspicion.
"Here, don't try to show off with all these gadgets... living off your dad's money, uh? Dont try be a smartass kid. I will keep watching you everyday you travel here.", constable said, as he flung the bag on Iftikar's face and moved on.
The passengers sighed with relief and were now discussing politics and terrorists, some vaguely still accusing Iftikar of wrong-doing and some praising the policeman for his 'alertness'.
Iftikar who was now bleeding from his elbow, picked up his stuff, checking the gadgets for damage while putting them back into the bag. The train was by now crawling slowly into the Charni Road station.
X-------------X------------X
A couple of people came by to Iftikar to enquire if he was okay. Iftikar responded with a smile.
"Am fine. Its just the shock...", he managed to say.
Once all of them had gone to their seats, Iftikar sat wondering about life during his times, and what the terrorists had made it. Being a software engineer of proficiency, there were no lack of demand for him abroad in companies in his home country. He had used it wisely and traveled widely.
"The world has changed a lot after 9/11", he told himself, "Life has become tougher for the common man. Half the trouble is because of the terrorists and half because of the governments fighting it".
"Anti-terrorists", he said to himself. The word sounded like the people fighting terrorism themselves caused a lot of fear and terror among the common people.
Freedom was a word that now sounded only vaguely familiar.
"The very reason to fight terrorism is to safeguard our freedom", he said to himself. Iftikar wondered if the anti-terrorists were fighting the terrorists by curbing the freedom of the common man. If so, the terrorists had actually succeeded in terrorizing his country.
Iftikar felt a chill pass down his spine at the thought.
He felt enraged at the way he was just treated.
"Like a criminal", he told himself. Its sad how the law-enforcement had a unique way of 'enforcing' law in India. He wondered sadly at the kind of harassment a law-abiding citizen faced on the road in the hands of the traffic police everyday and of the kind he just faced today.
"Treat everybody like a criminal", he told himself, "must have been their training."
"But erring bollywood stats and gangsters and bomb-blasters slip though their 'enforcement' tactics", he thought. A frown cracked through his face.
"Iswar Allah rajaram", he called out with a sigh, reminicising Gandhi.
X-------------X------------X
The train pulled into Bandra.
The constable appeared in Iftikar's view again. Iftikar gave a disgusting look at him and turned to watch the passengers boarding the train.
A boy - Iftikar estimated would be in his late teens - was trying to lug his heavy steel suitcase and two bags into the train.
Our officer was standing in the way. Iftikar smelt trouble. As the boy pulled up his last piece of baggage, the train had started to move.
"Whats your name?"
"uh... um...", the boy was stammering.
The constable used his lathi to push the boy away from his luggage, and waved the lathi dangerously close to his face.
Iftikar could take it no more. He rushed to the boy's help.
"Look here, sir. This is too much of harassment.", he said moving towards the officer, looking around for support.
"You might be an officer, and we respect that. But you do not have the right to ill-treat everybody you feel like..."
"Yes, misusing your authority", came a voice from behind. Iftikar turned around to see that five to six people who had witnessed him being harassed were in a bad mood about the officer too.
"Who do you think you are? Give me your name and station name. My uncle is a DGP. Lets ask him who you are...", screamed a man from behind the constable.
"People like you should be thrown out of the running train", yelled a heavy built man, and came dangerously close to the constable.
The boy was watching everything, scared pale.
"But... but... its my duty... I was asked to search for....", stammered the officer, who was by now retaliating at the force of the mob building around.
"So, who gave you orders to hit this man here", somebody said, pointing to Iftikar.
"..er... I...", the constable tried to talk back.
"No, no, no talking. Give me your name and station. I have to talk to your higher-ups"
"You deserve to be mob-hit...."
"You can't nab Dawood, you come around harassing innocent people"
"Look at his tummy, its all filled with bribes..."
The mob seemed to get forceful by the minute, noticing that the officer was now surrounded and feeling weaker.
X-------------X------------X
As the train chugged into the Khar Road station, the officer was close to being man-handled by the crowd.
Iftikar and a few others tried to maintain calm, and hold the crowd under control.
"It is for your security, sir...", the constable was reasoning, his lathi now snagging earthwards.
"If freedom is the cost of our security...", Iftikar passionately started on his views on freedom and security.
Suddenly the boy pushed aside a couple of people standing near the door, jumped out of the slowing train onto the platform and took a run.
Everybody turned around wondering what just happened. The officer's face turned pale.
The train came to a stop a few seconds later. It was 6.24 PM.
X-------------X------------X
The arrival of this train at Khar Road Station on the the 12th of July 2006 will be written about eternally - in blood.
"Hey you, Whats your name?", he heard somebody close to him say, as a lathi loomed large between his face and the wires.
Iftikar looked up. It was a railway police constable, not so friendly. The scar on his face and the rough cuts made it obvious that he was a street cop.
"uh..um... Iftikar...Iftikar Ali, sir", mumbled Iftikar.
"What have you got in your bag?", the constable looked suspiciously at the bag, while keeping distance as much and possible and letting his long lathi do the gesturing.
"uh, mp3... walkman sir..."
"And whats that?"
Pulling his amateurish SLR from the tangled mess of wires, while attempting to stand up, Iftikar said, "pen-drive ..."
He did not finish his sentence, he was pulled down from the seat and his bag thrown roughly on the window - like the constable was trying to throw the bag out of the train.
Iftikar pulled himself up angrily, and was dealt another blow on his hands.
"Dont move", said the constable, now fishing for the bag with his left hand, and controlling the fallen Iftikar with his lathi on the right.
Cornered and alone, Iftikar watched the other passengers huddle towards the other end of the car.
In the meanwhile, the train was making its dutiful run down the tracks towards Marine Lines.
X-------------X------------X
The constable started pulling out the wired mess which was attached timers of all sorts carefully.
"Whats this?"
"My headphone cable sir", answered Iftikar weakly.
"This?"
"Charger for my mp3..."
"What about the yellow wire"
"Thats the handsfree for my mobile..."
"...and this bag..."
"batteries and a flash-card...sir"
The constable didn't fully understand the terms, but continued the questioning. He seemed to be looking for a flaw in the logic of Iftikar's sentences, rather than the answer itself.
"Why do you need batteries?"
"For the camera... sir"
"Why are you carrying a camera?"
"Am an amateur photographer sir..."
"Armchair what?..."
"photo..grapher"
By now, having dumped all the contents of Iftikar's bag and found nothing, the constable still looked at Iftikar with suspicion.
"Here, don't try to show off with all these gadgets... living off your dad's money, uh? Dont try be a smartass kid. I will keep watching you everyday you travel here.", constable said, as he flung the bag on Iftikar's face and moved on.
The passengers sighed with relief and were now discussing politics and terrorists, some vaguely still accusing Iftikar of wrong-doing and some praising the policeman for his 'alertness'.
Iftikar who was now bleeding from his elbow, picked up his stuff, checking the gadgets for damage while putting them back into the bag. The train was by now crawling slowly into the Charni Road station.
X-------------X------------X
A couple of people came by to Iftikar to enquire if he was okay. Iftikar responded with a smile.
"Am fine. Its just the shock...", he managed to say.
Once all of them had gone to their seats, Iftikar sat wondering about life during his times, and what the terrorists had made it. Being a software engineer of proficiency, there were no lack of demand for him abroad in companies in his home country. He had used it wisely and traveled widely.
"The world has changed a lot after 9/11", he told himself, "Life has become tougher for the common man. Half the trouble is because of the terrorists and half because of the governments fighting it".
"Anti-terrorists", he said to himself. The word sounded like the people fighting terrorism themselves caused a lot of fear and terror among the common people.
Freedom was a word that now sounded only vaguely familiar.
"The very reason to fight terrorism is to safeguard our freedom", he said to himself. Iftikar wondered if the anti-terrorists were fighting the terrorists by curbing the freedom of the common man. If so, the terrorists had actually succeeded in terrorizing his country.
Iftikar felt a chill pass down his spine at the thought.
He felt enraged at the way he was just treated.
"Like a criminal", he told himself. Its sad how the law-enforcement had a unique way of 'enforcing' law in India. He wondered sadly at the kind of harassment a law-abiding citizen faced on the road in the hands of the traffic police everyday and of the kind he just faced today.
"Treat everybody like a criminal", he told himself, "must have been their training."
"But erring bollywood stats and gangsters and bomb-blasters slip though their 'enforcement' tactics", he thought. A frown cracked through his face.
"Iswar Allah rajaram", he called out with a sigh, reminicising Gandhi.
X-------------X------------X
The train pulled into Bandra.
The constable appeared in Iftikar's view again. Iftikar gave a disgusting look at him and turned to watch the passengers boarding the train.
A boy - Iftikar estimated would be in his late teens - was trying to lug his heavy steel suitcase and two bags into the train.
Our officer was standing in the way. Iftikar smelt trouble. As the boy pulled up his last piece of baggage, the train had started to move.
"Whats your name?"
"uh... um...", the boy was stammering.
The constable used his lathi to push the boy away from his luggage, and waved the lathi dangerously close to his face.
Iftikar could take it no more. He rushed to the boy's help.
"Look here, sir. This is too much of harassment.", he said moving towards the officer, looking around for support.
"You might be an officer, and we respect that. But you do not have the right to ill-treat everybody you feel like..."
"Yes, misusing your authority", came a voice from behind. Iftikar turned around to see that five to six people who had witnessed him being harassed were in a bad mood about the officer too.
"Who do you think you are? Give me your name and station name. My uncle is a DGP. Lets ask him who you are...", screamed a man from behind the constable.
"People like you should be thrown out of the running train", yelled a heavy built man, and came dangerously close to the constable.
The boy was watching everything, scared pale.
"But... but... its my duty... I was asked to search for....", stammered the officer, who was by now retaliating at the force of the mob building around.
"So, who gave you orders to hit this man here", somebody said, pointing to Iftikar.
"..er... I...", the constable tried to talk back.
"No, no, no talking. Give me your name and station. I have to talk to your higher-ups"
"You deserve to be mob-hit...."
"You can't nab Dawood, you come around harassing innocent people"
"Look at his tummy, its all filled with bribes..."
The mob seemed to get forceful by the minute, noticing that the officer was now surrounded and feeling weaker.
X-------------X------------X
As the train chugged into the Khar Road station, the officer was close to being man-handled by the crowd.
Iftikar and a few others tried to maintain calm, and hold the crowd under control.
"It is for your security, sir...", the constable was reasoning, his lathi now snagging earthwards.
"If freedom is the cost of our security...", Iftikar passionately started on his views on freedom and security.
Suddenly the boy pushed aside a couple of people standing near the door, jumped out of the slowing train onto the platform and took a run.
Everybody turned around wondering what just happened. The officer's face turned pale.
The train came to a stop a few seconds later. It was 6.24 PM.
X-------------X------------X
The arrival of this train at Khar Road Station on the the 12th of July 2006 will be written about eternally - in blood.
Thursday, July 06, 2006
Minor Problem
"We are service providers, Raghu. We are not a charity organization. We are a business...", Hari shouted over the phone.
"Yeah, but I just had to fix a loose-connection of the power-chord, plus Mr. Ravi is also requesting for a waiver of the bill this time..."
"Raghu, "Helping Hands" is a support Not-for-profit organization. I also admire Mr. Ravi's principles and his cause. We could support them in other ways. But not this. This is our business, and we can't be lenient with collections..."
"er, Mr. Ravi is here, why don't you talk to him directly", Raghu said, and handed over the phone to Ravi, without waiting for Hari to respond.
"Darn", Hari said to himself.
"Hello, Mr. Hari, how are you doing?", It was Ravi on the other end. His pace was slow and even. A sign of the matured man that he was.
"Well, good, Mr. Ravi. Thank you. How are you? and how are the children?", Hari tried to be polite.
"By God's grace, everybody is fine. The children are real studious. You should visit them once and tell them about your business story, you could inspire them..."
"Will try to do that, Mr. Ravi, but what about this problem you wanted to discuss about?", Hari said, cutting the charity part out, curtly.
"Ah, Well, Mr. Raghu is here and solved our computer problem. As per our contract you should bill us Rs. 100 for the service. I'm wondering, since this turned out to be a minor problem, and since we have been doing business for a long time, if you could waive off the bill as a good-will gesture towards our organization. You know, being a non-profit organization, and being short of funds, every penny that you could save us would be of immense help..."
"Mr. Ravi, our organization could help you by other means, but you know, this is our main business, and am sorry that I won't be able to waive this off for you."
"oh, I see. Its okay, Mr.Hari. I understand your situation. Never mind. Anyways, thank you for listening patiently. But please do drop by sometime to talk to the kids."
"Lets see, Mr. Ravi. Thanks anyways. Talk to you later", Hari was curt and ended the call.
In the same hurried pace, he let the phone slip off his hands. His back sent out a pricking pain, as he bent down to retrieve it.
"Darn", he squealed, sliding down on the sofa.
"What happened?", his mom came running into the room, hearing the squealish scream.
"Its the back pain again", he said. "Its all the long hours in front of the computer", he reasoned.
"People in our age never used to work this hard and long. It used to be eight hours at office and back, and that was it. I wonder why you young guys sacrifice your health and personal life for work!", his mom was being philosophical.
Hari rolled his eyes over, indicating that he was not interested in the topic that his mom had brought up.
"Anyways, go meet Dr. Elango. He specializes in physiotherapy. He must be able to suggest a few exercises", his mom said, as she stood up and left the room, leaving Hari massaging his back.
X----------------X-----------------X
"Hi Dr. Elango, am Hari", he said introducing himself.
After the usual round of introductions, Hari stretched on his back on a cot close-by, as the doctor lifted his legs in various directions to determine the cause of the pain.
"Are you in a hurry?", Dr. Elango asked, noticing his terse muscles.
"Well, actually, yes, I have to be in office by now...", ranted Hari.
"Can you spare half an hour?", the doctor asked as if he wanted to talk to Hari about donations for a temple in his home-town.
"uh, well, of course, Doctor", Hari said, taken aback by the politeness of the doctor. To him, only doctors and scientists were more intelligent that computer engineers. And he knew Dr. Elango was a doctor of proficiency. The crowd outside was proof enough.
Sitting close-by, Dr. Elango, asked Hari to breathe in and out deeply for a few minutes, at a slow pace, meanwhile dictating some therapies for other patients to his assistants.
Soon, after Dr. Elango began his therapy and was done in twenty minutes. It was followed by a session of exercises.
"Do these exercises everyday, and you should be fit in 10 days. Its just a matter of posture. Sit straight...", Dr. Elango went into a series of suggestions to sitting right.
Getting down from the cot, Hari felt better as his spasms seemed to have vanished magically.
Hari relaxed for a couple of more minutes, in which time Dr. Elango vanished too, to meet his other patients.
Hari found the doctor, performing some kind of heat therapy for an aged woman down the hall.
"Doctor, how much should I pay...", Hari said, pulling out his purse.
"oh, nothing. its okay, it was just a muscle spasm, a minor problem. ", said the doctor, continuing to focus on his old patient.
Hari couldn't believe his ears.
"oh, it maybe because he didn't have to use any tools on me", Hari reasoned to himself, "I would have charged a bomb for spending half-an-hour with my clients, tools or no tools.". What was a minor problem to doctor was a major pain for him, and what difference the doctor could make. Thats the power of service-providers, he said to himself.
"...but doctor, your time really mattered to me...", dragged Hari.
"...Thats okay. No problem... call me if you have any persisting pain. I hope you do not have to come back to me", smiled the doctor, firmly refusing payment for half-an-hour of his services. He motioned to his assistant who brought him the doctor's card.
"uh... I'm a computer engineer... if you have , er, any computer needs, please do let me know... I could help you out...", Hari offered his card awkwardly.
"Ha, ha, ha...", laughed the doctor loudly, startling his patient, and turned to face Hari.
"You are here because you are a computer engineer in the first place, aren't you?", he laughed aloud again. There seemed something mystical about the doctors words, like the doctor was pointing out the intangible relationships their professions.
Hari stood there looking at the Doctor awkwardly.
"Thank you for the offer, Mr. Hari. But I sure know somebody you could help, if you really want to repay my services...", he said pulling another card from his pocket and handing it over to Hari.
Hari stood there, frozen in time, reading the card.
"Helping Hands", it said, giving an address that Ravi already knew.
"Yeah, but I just had to fix a loose-connection of the power-chord, plus Mr. Ravi is also requesting for a waiver of the bill this time..."
"Raghu, "Helping Hands" is a support Not-for-profit organization. I also admire Mr. Ravi's principles and his cause. We could support them in other ways. But not this. This is our business, and we can't be lenient with collections..."
"er, Mr. Ravi is here, why don't you talk to him directly", Raghu said, and handed over the phone to Ravi, without waiting for Hari to respond.
"Darn", Hari said to himself.
"Hello, Mr. Hari, how are you doing?", It was Ravi on the other end. His pace was slow and even. A sign of the matured man that he was.
"Well, good, Mr. Ravi. Thank you. How are you? and how are the children?", Hari tried to be polite.
"By God's grace, everybody is fine. The children are real studious. You should visit them once and tell them about your business story, you could inspire them..."
"Will try to do that, Mr. Ravi, but what about this problem you wanted to discuss about?", Hari said, cutting the charity part out, curtly.
"Ah, Well, Mr. Raghu is here and solved our computer problem. As per our contract you should bill us Rs. 100 for the service. I'm wondering, since this turned out to be a minor problem, and since we have been doing business for a long time, if you could waive off the bill as a good-will gesture towards our organization. You know, being a non-profit organization, and being short of funds, every penny that you could save us would be of immense help..."
"Mr. Ravi, our organization could help you by other means, but you know, this is our main business, and am sorry that I won't be able to waive this off for you."
"oh, I see. Its okay, Mr.Hari. I understand your situation. Never mind. Anyways, thank you for listening patiently. But please do drop by sometime to talk to the kids."
"Lets see, Mr. Ravi. Thanks anyways. Talk to you later", Hari was curt and ended the call.
In the same hurried pace, he let the phone slip off his hands. His back sent out a pricking pain, as he bent down to retrieve it.
"Darn", he squealed, sliding down on the sofa.
"What happened?", his mom came running into the room, hearing the squealish scream.
"Its the back pain again", he said. "Its all the long hours in front of the computer", he reasoned.
"People in our age never used to work this hard and long. It used to be eight hours at office and back, and that was it. I wonder why you young guys sacrifice your health and personal life for work!", his mom was being philosophical.
Hari rolled his eyes over, indicating that he was not interested in the topic that his mom had brought up.
"Anyways, go meet Dr. Elango. He specializes in physiotherapy. He must be able to suggest a few exercises", his mom said, as she stood up and left the room, leaving Hari massaging his back.
X----------------X-----------------X
"Hi Dr. Elango, am Hari", he said introducing himself.
After the usual round of introductions, Hari stretched on his back on a cot close-by, as the doctor lifted his legs in various directions to determine the cause of the pain.
"Are you in a hurry?", Dr. Elango asked, noticing his terse muscles.
"Well, actually, yes, I have to be in office by now...", ranted Hari.
"Can you spare half an hour?", the doctor asked as if he wanted to talk to Hari about donations for a temple in his home-town.
"uh, well, of course, Doctor", Hari said, taken aback by the politeness of the doctor. To him, only doctors and scientists were more intelligent that computer engineers. And he knew Dr. Elango was a doctor of proficiency. The crowd outside was proof enough.
Sitting close-by, Dr. Elango, asked Hari to breathe in and out deeply for a few minutes, at a slow pace, meanwhile dictating some therapies for other patients to his assistants.
Soon, after Dr. Elango began his therapy and was done in twenty minutes. It was followed by a session of exercises.
"Do these exercises everyday, and you should be fit in 10 days. Its just a matter of posture. Sit straight...", Dr. Elango went into a series of suggestions to sitting right.
Getting down from the cot, Hari felt better as his spasms seemed to have vanished magically.
Hari relaxed for a couple of more minutes, in which time Dr. Elango vanished too, to meet his other patients.
Hari found the doctor, performing some kind of heat therapy for an aged woman down the hall.
"Doctor, how much should I pay...", Hari said, pulling out his purse.
"oh, nothing. its okay, it was just a muscle spasm, a minor problem. ", said the doctor, continuing to focus on his old patient.
Hari couldn't believe his ears.
"oh, it maybe because he didn't have to use any tools on me", Hari reasoned to himself, "I would have charged a bomb for spending half-an-hour with my clients, tools or no tools.". What was a minor problem to doctor was a major pain for him, and what difference the doctor could make. Thats the power of service-providers, he said to himself.
"...but doctor, your time really mattered to me...", dragged Hari.
"...Thats okay. No problem... call me if you have any persisting pain. I hope you do not have to come back to me", smiled the doctor, firmly refusing payment for half-an-hour of his services. He motioned to his assistant who brought him the doctor's card.
"uh... I'm a computer engineer... if you have , er, any computer needs, please do let me know... I could help you out...", Hari offered his card awkwardly.
"Ha, ha, ha...", laughed the doctor loudly, startling his patient, and turned to face Hari.
"You are here because you are a computer engineer in the first place, aren't you?", he laughed aloud again. There seemed something mystical about the doctors words, like the doctor was pointing out the intangible relationships their professions.
Hari stood there looking at the Doctor awkwardly.
"Thank you for the offer, Mr. Hari. But I sure know somebody you could help, if you really want to repay my services...", he said pulling another card from his pocket and handing it over to Hari.
Hari stood there, frozen in time, reading the card.
"Helping Hands", it said, giving an address that Ravi already knew.
Thursday, June 29, 2006
Mobile
Suresh was the lead designer of the project.
"And, the Billing-Cash class would take care of the cash bills, while the Cash-Cash class would take care of the cash-in-hand status", he was telling the team.
"But shouldn't the Billing-Cash class be inherited from the Cash-Cash module?", that was Shyam, an engineer in charge of the development.
"The Cash-Cash class...", Suresh was interrupted by the latest hindi item number that came out of his mobile.
"One second...", he said looking at the screen. It was his cousin Balaji. He picked up the call, oblivious to the staring crowd who expected that Suresh to switch off his mobile, just like they all did, when they entered the meeting.
"haan, tell me da...", he said loudly.
"..."
"No, no, I must be done by then..."
"..."
"No, dont worry dude, I will pick you up"
"..."
The conversation continued for another five minutes. When he came back, he looked frustrated.
"Its the family", he said as he entered the room again.
"Now, where were we? Yeah... we were discussing the Billing classes. The Billing-Cash class...".
It was the item number again. Suresh disappeared for some more time.
There audience seemed noisier as he continued the presentation. He wondered why.
X---------------------X-------------------X
"I waited for 45 minutes before I took the auto", screamed Balaji.
"uh, I was on the way da, when this old friend of mine called. Had spend some time with him. I started right after the meeting, but it was already late...", reasoned Suresh.
"but, why couldn't...", Balaji was interrupted. It was the latest item number. Suresh picked it up.
"haan, tell me da", Suresh said loudly.
"..."
"yeah, yeah, I know all about you *%&*&"
"..."
"What about yesterday. You didn't call up yesterday either..."
Balaji went to the dining-room, unable to stand the noise and the language.
"Whats up? Isn't Suresh joining you for dinner?", it was Balaji's mom, as she served dinner.
"nah, its the mobile again. He will come."
Balaji was half way through dinner when Suresh came into the dining room.
"Whats for dinner?", he said as he pulled up a chair.
"Who was that, on the phone?" queried Balaji in response.
"That bugger Sethu. He spends so much time with that girl, he doesn't even call...".
It was the item number again. Suresh picked up the phone.
"Yeah, Shyam, tell me..."
"..."
"Aare nai yaar. The Billing-Cash class is derived from the Cash class. So is Cash-Cash", Suresh left the table seeking the solace of the balcony for the conversation.
Balaji's mom stared at the empty chair when she came back from the kitchen.
"What happened?" she asked.
"Its the phone again", sighed Balaji. "I just wish he spends more time in real life than on the phone"
X---------------------X-------------------X
"Yeah, but you didn't finish telling us about the Cash class during the meeting..."
"..."
"But..."
"..."
"Okay..."
"..."
"Yeah, okay, I understand now. Thanks", Shyam threw his mobile down in frustration.
"I simply do not understand unless I see him explain on the board", he said looking at his colleague.
"I wish he uses the face time to explain the design...", he complained to the cubicle. "But with his mobile ringing all the time... God save us!'
X---------------------X-------------------X
"The bloody office... I just wish these guys learn some fundamentals before they come on the job, I have to keep repeating the same darn thing day in and day out, and they still screw things up...", complained Suresh loudly as he entered.
But Balaji wasn't around. Suresh looked enquiringly at his aunt.
"He has gone out for a walk with tiger", she said. Tiger was their pet dog.
"He is angry at me. I need to cool him down...", Suresh said, as he gobbled down some food, and dialed Balaji's mobile at the same time.
Balaji's mobile rang in the room next door.
"And, the Billing-Cash class would take care of the cash bills, while the Cash-Cash class would take care of the cash-in-hand status", he was telling the team.
"But shouldn't the Billing-Cash class be inherited from the Cash-Cash module?", that was Shyam, an engineer in charge of the development.
"The Cash-Cash class...", Suresh was interrupted by the latest hindi item number that came out of his mobile.
"One second...", he said looking at the screen. It was his cousin Balaji. He picked up the call, oblivious to the staring crowd who expected that Suresh to switch off his mobile, just like they all did, when they entered the meeting.
"haan, tell me da...", he said loudly.
"..."
"No, no, I must be done by then..."
"..."
"No, dont worry dude, I will pick you up"
"..."
The conversation continued for another five minutes. When he came back, he looked frustrated.
"Its the family", he said as he entered the room again.
"Now, where were we? Yeah... we were discussing the Billing classes. The Billing-Cash class...".
It was the item number again. Suresh disappeared for some more time.
There audience seemed noisier as he continued the presentation. He wondered why.
X---------------------X-------------------X
"I waited for 45 minutes before I took the auto", screamed Balaji.
"uh, I was on the way da, when this old friend of mine called. Had spend some time with him. I started right after the meeting, but it was already late...", reasoned Suresh.
"but, why couldn't...", Balaji was interrupted. It was the latest item number. Suresh picked it up.
"haan, tell me da", Suresh said loudly.
"..."
"yeah, yeah, I know all about you *%&*&"
"..."
"What about yesterday. You didn't call up yesterday either..."
Balaji went to the dining-room, unable to stand the noise and the language.
"Whats up? Isn't Suresh joining you for dinner?", it was Balaji's mom, as she served dinner.
"nah, its the mobile again. He will come."
Balaji was half way through dinner when Suresh came into the dining room.
"Whats for dinner?", he said as he pulled up a chair.
"Who was that, on the phone?" queried Balaji in response.
"That bugger Sethu. He spends so much time with that girl, he doesn't even call...".
It was the item number again. Suresh picked up the phone.
"Yeah, Shyam, tell me..."
"..."
"Aare nai yaar. The Billing-Cash class is derived from the Cash class. So is Cash-Cash", Suresh left the table seeking the solace of the balcony for the conversation.
Balaji's mom stared at the empty chair when she came back from the kitchen.
"What happened?" she asked.
"Its the phone again", sighed Balaji. "I just wish he spends more time in real life than on the phone"
X---------------------X-------------------X
"Yeah, but you didn't finish telling us about the Cash class during the meeting..."
"..."
"But..."
"..."
"Okay..."
"..."
"Yeah, okay, I understand now. Thanks", Shyam threw his mobile down in frustration.
"I simply do not understand unless I see him explain on the board", he said looking at his colleague.
"I wish he uses the face time to explain the design...", he complained to the cubicle. "But with his mobile ringing all the time... God save us!'
X---------------------X-------------------X
"The bloody office... I just wish these guys learn some fundamentals before they come on the job, I have to keep repeating the same darn thing day in and day out, and they still screw things up...", complained Suresh loudly as he entered.
But Balaji wasn't around. Suresh looked enquiringly at his aunt.
"He has gone out for a walk with tiger", she said. Tiger was their pet dog.
"He is angry at me. I need to cool him down...", Suresh said, as he gobbled down some food, and dialed Balaji's mobile at the same time.
Balaji's mobile rang in the room next door.
Thursday, June 22, 2006
SWAG
Circa 1993
It was the software engineering class, and the topic was 'Estimation Techniques'.
"But, how do you account for the complexities of the business-layer?", asked Gopal 15 minutes into a discussion that left the rest of the class to stare at a rapid-fire question answer session between Gopal and the lecturer.
Gopal was a top-student in his class. He was bright and talented and remained on top-of-the-class for all his life. Being highly opinionated, he always approached any topic, with scepticism, especially when somebody else came up with it. He held the view that all professors and lecturers in college were eventually incompetent, in that they joined the teaching profession, just because they couldn't get a job in the industry. Needless to say that the lecturers bore the brunt of his debates.
"uh, I think the business layer complexity is handled by counting the detailed function points", blurted the lecturer - a poor man in his early twenties, who chose to join this college after futile attempts to gain employment in the industry -just wishing Gopal let go of it.
"How will you estimate the complexities of the function points?", persisted Gopal.
"..."
"Thats exactly my point. Now, you have a proposed system with a certain requirement, one can definitely do a good design, given the limitations or capabilities of the technologies available"
Everybody was looking at Gopal, like he was teaching.
"Since the business case itself is new, and even if similar applications exist, the dynamics of the technology and market change, and at any given point of time, a proposed system would essentially be the first time that thing was developed... if it ever were"
"..."
"How do you 'exactly' estimate the time to build the taj-mahal, when you only have a vague idea that you need to build an awe inspiring monument?"
"..."
The whole class was now looking at Gopal in awe. Gopal himself knew that not many guys could follow his train of thought and by now be day-dreaming. He knew that he was the envy of the class in complex abstract topic discussion. It was an envy he cherished. He liked the way the class hated him.
"So, the point is, what you are doing, when you say you estimate a function point, is at best - guessing."
The lecturer didn't like the class being taken over by Gopal. But then, he did not have a valid answer.
"Yeah, but it is a scientific guess, based on past=experience", he managed to say.
"Scientific guess, my foot!", Gopal said as he stamped his right foot down loudly on the wooden floor. "The so called 'Estimation techniques' are all crap. This should probably be my area of research. Estimation is still an art. Time will come when it will be science, purely calculable. I will make it happen", Gopal vowed to himself as he picked up his books and walked out of the room.
The class watched with a collective gasp.
X-----------------------X-------------------X
Circa 2006
"Mark says they've got 124 APIs provided by their engines. All we have to do is wrap them around, make their existing front-end systems get 'intelligent' analysis from these engines.", Gopal said, explaining their new prize-catch project from the customer.
"What about the complexity of the APIs?". That was Lingam - one of the core team-members, Gopal was planning to build a team with. They were discussing a new project proposed by their client.
Our Gopal never liked to be at the receiving end of such questions, but nowadays he frequently was. Rising up to the level of project manager in one of the top IT service provider in India was no joke, and Gopal was glad to be not handed-down tasks to. "Now, I can tell people what to do, and what not to do", he told himself. But the utopia didn't last long. He soon came to realize that projects were at one end at the mercy of his bosses for manpower and infrastructure allocation, and at the other end, by people who made projects happen, people like Lingam who were actually working to take the project someplace billable. He felt sandwiched.
"How complex can an API get... a function call, a few parameters, and a return value", argued Gopal.
"Are you forgetting that the engines run on mainframes and the XMLRIP calls that we build should be able to handle huge numbers, deliver the values accurately to the front-end system, whose technology has very limited datatypes?"
"Sure, we will let the backend system and the XMLRIP calls handle all these numbers, and deliver the results as text"
"What about network congestion", Lingam persisted.
"..."
"Look, firstly, we need a better design and more resources than you are suggesting, to handle such complex data transformations."
"But the client budget is only 100K"
It was not a well-kept secret in the industry that the project costs were more often based on how much the client was willing to pay, rather than how much work and time the task at hand would require. "Add more heads, and only during a crisis" was the norm of the day.
“We should tell the client that we can probably do wrappers for only 50-60 API calls with this cost, moreover they need to disclose their API specs early for us to estimate"
"Lingam, see clients are important in our business. We don't question them, Plus we can't lose this 100K they are willing to give us"
"But how can you squeeze a project that requires probably more than 250K into 100K?", Lingam asked, matter-of-factly.
Gopal was getting impatient.
"Whats your point?", he asked visibly irritated.
"As per our current estimates, each function wrapping should take only 3 person-hours. I do not see how we can say that, without even knowing the signature of the calls. Moreover, wheres the time for testing? Where is the documentation and where is the time for the quality forms that we need to do? How did we even workout this 3 person-hour calculation?"
"Its a SWAG - a 'Scientific Wild Ass Guess'. Now, do you have a better idea?", Gopal said sternly hoping to end the conversation.
"Scientific - my foot. Its a Stupid Wild Ass Guess", Lingam stomped his feet as he said that. "Our so-called 'estimation techniques' are bogus. We must first admit that!", Gopal could hear Lingam, as Lingam stood up and walked out of the door.
The whole team watched with a collective gasp.
It was the software engineering class, and the topic was 'Estimation Techniques'.
"But, how do you account for the complexities of the business-layer?", asked Gopal 15 minutes into a discussion that left the rest of the class to stare at a rapid-fire question answer session between Gopal and the lecturer.
Gopal was a top-student in his class. He was bright and talented and remained on top-of-the-class for all his life. Being highly opinionated, he always approached any topic, with scepticism, especially when somebody else came up with it. He held the view that all professors and lecturers in college were eventually incompetent, in that they joined the teaching profession, just because they couldn't get a job in the industry. Needless to say that the lecturers bore the brunt of his debates.
"uh, I think the business layer complexity is handled by counting the detailed function points", blurted the lecturer - a poor man in his early twenties, who chose to join this college after futile attempts to gain employment in the industry -just wishing Gopal let go of it.
"How will you estimate the complexities of the function points?", persisted Gopal.
"..."
"Thats exactly my point. Now, you have a proposed system with a certain requirement, one can definitely do a good design, given the limitations or capabilities of the technologies available"
Everybody was looking at Gopal, like he was teaching.
"Since the business case itself is new, and even if similar applications exist, the dynamics of the technology and market change, and at any given point of time, a proposed system would essentially be the first time that thing was developed... if it ever were"
"..."
"How do you 'exactly' estimate the time to build the taj-mahal, when you only have a vague idea that you need to build an awe inspiring monument?"
"..."
The whole class was now looking at Gopal in awe. Gopal himself knew that not many guys could follow his train of thought and by now be day-dreaming. He knew that he was the envy of the class in complex abstract topic discussion. It was an envy he cherished. He liked the way the class hated him.
"So, the point is, what you are doing, when you say you estimate a function point, is at best - guessing."
The lecturer didn't like the class being taken over by Gopal. But then, he did not have a valid answer.
"Yeah, but it is a scientific guess, based on past=experience", he managed to say.
"Scientific guess, my foot!", Gopal said as he stamped his right foot down loudly on the wooden floor. "The so called 'Estimation techniques' are all crap. This should probably be my area of research. Estimation is still an art. Time will come when it will be science, purely calculable. I will make it happen", Gopal vowed to himself as he picked up his books and walked out of the room.
The class watched with a collective gasp.
X-----------------------X-------------------X
Circa 2006
"Mark says they've got 124 APIs provided by their engines. All we have to do is wrap them around, make their existing front-end systems get 'intelligent' analysis from these engines.", Gopal said, explaining their new prize-catch project from the customer.
"What about the complexity of the APIs?". That was Lingam - one of the core team-members, Gopal was planning to build a team with. They were discussing a new project proposed by their client.
Our Gopal never liked to be at the receiving end of such questions, but nowadays he frequently was. Rising up to the level of project manager in one of the top IT service provider in India was no joke, and Gopal was glad to be not handed-down tasks to. "Now, I can tell people what to do, and what not to do", he told himself. But the utopia didn't last long. He soon came to realize that projects were at one end at the mercy of his bosses for manpower and infrastructure allocation, and at the other end, by people who made projects happen, people like Lingam who were actually working to take the project someplace billable. He felt sandwiched.
"How complex can an API get... a function call, a few parameters, and a return value", argued Gopal.
"Are you forgetting that the engines run on mainframes and the XMLRIP calls that we build should be able to handle huge numbers, deliver the values accurately to the front-end system, whose technology has very limited datatypes?"
"Sure, we will let the backend system and the XMLRIP calls handle all these numbers, and deliver the results as text"
"What about network congestion", Lingam persisted.
"..."
"Look, firstly, we need a better design and more resources than you are suggesting, to handle such complex data transformations."
"But the client budget is only 100K"
It was not a well-kept secret in the industry that the project costs were more often based on how much the client was willing to pay, rather than how much work and time the task at hand would require. "Add more heads, and only during a crisis" was the norm of the day.
“We should tell the client that we can probably do wrappers for only 50-60 API calls with this cost, moreover they need to disclose their API specs early for us to estimate"
"Lingam, see clients are important in our business. We don't question them, Plus we can't lose this 100K they are willing to give us"
"But how can you squeeze a project that requires probably more than 250K into 100K?", Lingam asked, matter-of-factly.
Gopal was getting impatient.
"Whats your point?", he asked visibly irritated.
"As per our current estimates, each function wrapping should take only 3 person-hours. I do not see how we can say that, without even knowing the signature of the calls. Moreover, wheres the time for testing? Where is the documentation and where is the time for the quality forms that we need to do? How did we even workout this 3 person-hour calculation?"
"Its a SWAG - a 'Scientific Wild Ass Guess'. Now, do you have a better idea?", Gopal said sternly hoping to end the conversation.
"Scientific - my foot. Its a Stupid Wild Ass Guess", Lingam stomped his feet as he said that. "Our so-called 'estimation techniques' are bogus. We must first admit that!", Gopal could hear Lingam, as Lingam stood up and walked out of the door.
The whole team watched with a collective gasp.
Thursday, June 15, 2006
NRI
Visalakshi was one of those near-perfect pieces produced by Bramha. Seven love letters from seven different guys during her SSLC holidays was enough to prove it.
But that never stopped Visalakshi from spending a lot of time and her father's money on cosmetics and clothes.
"Half a man, half what he wears", she would quote her grandmother.
"Do you think money grows on trees?", her father would ask.
"Yes, am going to marry an NRI, and money will grow on trees", and wink naughtily, further enraging Narayanan. NRI is short for Non-Resident-Indian, probably residing in the US.
Belonging to a middle-class brahmin family, her life revolved around the crowded streets of Srirangam. Between her chores at home, and a not-so-mentionable college degree, her favorite pastime was to watch the english movies that played on HBO, fantasizing of her future in the US. Her dream was to marry an NRI and settle down in the United States of America. The common dream of the lad and lasses of India. The lads did it with a good job in a software company, the lasses did it by marrying the lads.
X-----------------------X------------------X
"This guy is good, works in Bangalore, in tinfosys", Narayanan reasoned, "He might get a chance to go abroad too..."
"No, appa." Visalakshi was adamant, "I want to marry an NRI, who would take me with him right away".
Narayanan was saddened by the ways of his daughter. He wished she wed somebody she liked too, but he was finding it difficult to find a NRI groom for his daughter. In spite of her looks, she was just a small-town girl. He dared not to shatter her Cindrella dream, but he was worried how long it was taking them to find her a suitor.
X-----------------------X------------------X
Visalakshi almost jumped in joy when Rangu-mama brought the horoscope of Ananthakrishnan.
"Ananthu works for one of the biggest retail chains of America...", Rangu-mama couldn't hold his awe for the groom-to-be.
Exactly what Visalakshi wanted her groom to be.
"The boy is 37 years old, theres almost a 13 years age difference between you and him", Narayanan didn't like the idea one wee bit.
"I'd rather you married Kicha next door, than this guy".
But Visalakshi wouldn't buy any of it. She had her mind set and for good.
X-----------------------X------------------X
The date was set, and Ananthu flew down for the marriage. With a few weeks left before marriage, he charmed his wife-to-be with jewelery and foreign chocolates. When Visalakshi expressed her desire to visit a disco, Anant flew her to Chennai, her first trip on a plane, to go disco.
Ananthu took her to the best restaurants in town, and urged her to shop till she dropped dead. The Spencer's and Globuses of Chennai booked their profits, straight from the credit card of the NRI.
"Gone are the days of restrictions...", Visalakshi thought to herself, "Enough of appa's 'Don't do this', 'Cant afford it'... Ananth adores me, and almost spoils me", she thought to herself.
X-----------------------X------------------X
She 'Cho chweet'ed him when he told her to be more respectful to the waiter at Saravana Bhavan.
"I ought to know, I do that, day in and day out", Ananth continued.
"Still, to even bother about a server, you are soo... wait, what did you say?",
"I said, I do that day in and day out", repeated Ananth casually.
Visalakshi's eyebrows went up and she semi-turned her head to the waiter who was walking away from the table.
"That?", she asked pointing to the waiter.
"Yes", Anant didn't seem as disturbed as Visalakshi was.
"..."
"I serve at McRonalds", continued Ananth.
Visalakshi's felt dizzy as she heard these words resonate in her ears - louder than usual.
Visalakshi spent the next two days locked-up in her room, contemplating about her marriage. It was too late to stop the marriage. She consoled herself that at least Ananth was not stingy with money. He definitely was more liberal-minded than her father. Those were definite improvements in her life.
X-----------------------X------------------X
Two months into the marriage, Visalakshi did not even miss Srirangam. Apart from some oddly-timed calls from her father, she was settling down well in Chicago. The weekend trips to the wholesale shop to stock groceries, and the house-keeping kept her busy. She enjoyed her days in the US. Until one day during dinner:
"Hey Ananth, lets go dancing... are there any good discos around?", she asked Ananth casually over dinner.
"No, Visal. Dont even think about visiting discos. They are not safe, plus, costs a lot..."
"ouch", Visalakshi thought, "Thats the same words appa used to use...". Narayanan used to be much more gentler though.
After a few minutes of thoughtful silence, Visalakshi started again...
"Okay, let me get a few clothes at least..."
Anant shrugged his food-laden hands in the plate. He looked visibly upset.
"What were doing when I asked you to shop in Chennai? Why do you think I asked you to shop there? Its pretty damn expensive here... ", Visalakshi was taken aback. She had never seen Ananth this loud or angry.
"...no... its just that I need some warm clothes...", staggered Vislakshi.
"There, you needed some modern clothes, now you need warm clothes, come summer you'll need easy fitting clothes. And your rants about buying a car.", Ananth's voice grew louder, "Damn, understand something. I work at McRonalds. I earn little, and we have to save for the times when we go back to India. If you can live a life of a waiter's wife, do it, otherwise..."
For a second, Visalakshi stared fearfully at Ananth's eyes.
"Damn!", he said, gulping whatever he was about to say.
Tears streamed down Visalakshi's cheeks.
"Do you think money grows on trees?...", Ananth said, as he picked up his coat and left the house.
But that never stopped Visalakshi from spending a lot of time and her father's money on cosmetics and clothes.
"Half a man, half what he wears", she would quote her grandmother.
"Do you think money grows on trees?", her father would ask.
"Yes, am going to marry an NRI, and money will grow on trees", and wink naughtily, further enraging Narayanan. NRI is short for Non-Resident-Indian, probably residing in the US.
Belonging to a middle-class brahmin family, her life revolved around the crowded streets of Srirangam. Between her chores at home, and a not-so-mentionable college degree, her favorite pastime was to watch the english movies that played on HBO, fantasizing of her future in the US. Her dream was to marry an NRI and settle down in the United States of America. The common dream of the lad and lasses of India. The lads did it with a good job in a software company, the lasses did it by marrying the lads.
X-----------------------X------------------X
"This guy is good, works in Bangalore, in tinfosys", Narayanan reasoned, "He might get a chance to go abroad too..."
"No, appa." Visalakshi was adamant, "I want to marry an NRI, who would take me with him right away".
Narayanan was saddened by the ways of his daughter. He wished she wed somebody she liked too, but he was finding it difficult to find a NRI groom for his daughter. In spite of her looks, she was just a small-town girl. He dared not to shatter her Cindrella dream, but he was worried how long it was taking them to find her a suitor.
X-----------------------X------------------X
Visalakshi almost jumped in joy when Rangu-mama brought the horoscope of Ananthakrishnan.
"Ananthu works for one of the biggest retail chains of America...", Rangu-mama couldn't hold his awe for the groom-to-be.
Exactly what Visalakshi wanted her groom to be.
"The boy is 37 years old, theres almost a 13 years age difference between you and him", Narayanan didn't like the idea one wee bit.
"I'd rather you married Kicha next door, than this guy".
But Visalakshi wouldn't buy any of it. She had her mind set and for good.
X-----------------------X------------------X
The date was set, and Ananthu flew down for the marriage. With a few weeks left before marriage, he charmed his wife-to-be with jewelery and foreign chocolates. When Visalakshi expressed her desire to visit a disco, Anant flew her to Chennai, her first trip on a plane, to go disco.
Ananthu took her to the best restaurants in town, and urged her to shop till she dropped dead. The Spencer's and Globuses of Chennai booked their profits, straight from the credit card of the NRI.
"Gone are the days of restrictions...", Visalakshi thought to herself, "Enough of appa's 'Don't do this', 'Cant afford it'... Ananth adores me, and almost spoils me", she thought to herself.
X-----------------------X------------------X
She 'Cho chweet'ed him when he told her to be more respectful to the waiter at Saravana Bhavan.
"I ought to know, I do that, day in and day out", Ananth continued.
"Still, to even bother about a server, you are soo... wait, what did you say?",
"I said, I do that day in and day out", repeated Ananth casually.
Visalakshi's eyebrows went up and she semi-turned her head to the waiter who was walking away from the table.
"That?", she asked pointing to the waiter.
"Yes", Anant didn't seem as disturbed as Visalakshi was.
"..."
"I serve at McRonalds", continued Ananth.
Visalakshi's felt dizzy as she heard these words resonate in her ears - louder than usual.
Visalakshi spent the next two days locked-up in her room, contemplating about her marriage. It was too late to stop the marriage. She consoled herself that at least Ananth was not stingy with money. He definitely was more liberal-minded than her father. Those were definite improvements in her life.
X-----------------------X------------------X
Two months into the marriage, Visalakshi did not even miss Srirangam. Apart from some oddly-timed calls from her father, she was settling down well in Chicago. The weekend trips to the wholesale shop to stock groceries, and the house-keeping kept her busy. She enjoyed her days in the US. Until one day during dinner:
"Hey Ananth, lets go dancing... are there any good discos around?", she asked Ananth casually over dinner.
"No, Visal. Dont even think about visiting discos. They are not safe, plus, costs a lot..."
"ouch", Visalakshi thought, "Thats the same words appa used to use...". Narayanan used to be much more gentler though.
After a few minutes of thoughtful silence, Visalakshi started again...
"Okay, let me get a few clothes at least..."
Anant shrugged his food-laden hands in the plate. He looked visibly upset.
"What were doing when I asked you to shop in Chennai? Why do you think I asked you to shop there? Its pretty damn expensive here... ", Visalakshi was taken aback. She had never seen Ananth this loud or angry.
"...no... its just that I need some warm clothes...", staggered Vislakshi.
"There, you needed some modern clothes, now you need warm clothes, come summer you'll need easy fitting clothes. And your rants about buying a car.", Ananth's voice grew louder, "Damn, understand something. I work at McRonalds. I earn little, and we have to save for the times when we go back to India. If you can live a life of a waiter's wife, do it, otherwise..."
For a second, Visalakshi stared fearfully at Ananth's eyes.
"Damn!", he said, gulping whatever he was about to say.
Tears streamed down Visalakshi's cheeks.
"Do you think money grows on trees?...", Ananth said, as he picked up his coat and left the house.
Thursday, June 08, 2006
Senior
There are some people we never forget in life. The thought of these people might evoke one or all or any combination of the human emotions ranging from sheer joy to pure hatred. We might not have seen them in the past ten or twenty years, we may never have a chance to meet them again, they might even be dead. But we never forget them.
Nandisha was one such for me. For some reason, his world revolved at a lesser Frames Per Second than the rest of us. It might be because he was physically huge. Tall, round, in short like a huge barrel, but useless. Indians might be able to understand, if I compare him to a buffalo. If you have ever seen buffalo, straight from the gutter, crossing the road, blocking your car, you'll know what I mean. You can't touch him to make him move, you'll splash scum on yourself. You can honk all you want, but he won't move. You can only sit in your car, honk and more importantly - pray that he moves away. And after a while, engrossed in his own thoughts, the buffalo will start walking, at his own pace, right onto the tracks of a speeding town bus. Screeches and shouts later, the buffalo will be doing his own thing, oblivious to the commotion around.
Well, you get the picture. Now, Nandisha was a human buffalo. He used to work, or should I say, he was employed by the company where I joined right after college. He had a big ego, and a even bigger stock portfolio - which he enhanced during his office hours, calling stock brokers using the office telephone and talking loud enough to disturb others.
He had been with the company for 8 years then, and was respected more for the position, than the person he was. He was a senior programmer by designation.
X-----------------------X----------------------X
"...and I do not know, Krishna, the car hit the pavement, and electric post...", Nandisha was explaining, at his own pace, how he hurt his leg, to the Manager.
"Car accident, I see... who was driving?..", I said, partly glad of the situation, spying his heavily bandaged left leg as I walked into the cube.
"... I was sitting on the right side, that is why I got hurt..."
"You got a left-hand-steering car?", I was still confused as to how he got hurt.
"... aare, no, yaar!", he turned around, slow as a sloth.
"Then, who was driving the car?", I asked him, still wondering why he was sounding like he was only sitting in a car, that hit the curb.
"I was driving the car... but the car lost control", he explained.
"Well, well...", I said to myself, "Nandisha cant move fast enough to hurt his leg, can he? Its got to be the car that lost control.".
X-----------------------X----------------------X
Nandisha made himself comfortable at his chair and started browsing the internet. In those days, internet access was restricted for most of us young workers. It was given only to the privileged few. Nandisha had been with the company for 8 years, and by virtue of being a senior, he held this privilege.
Most of that day was uneventful, until sometime after lunch.
"Hey!", he called out raising his hand, to get my attention from the other side of the cube.
"What, Nandisha?", I stood up, so that we could see each other's faces, making the conversation more comfortable.
"Get the printouts for me, no?", he said, more of a statement, than a request. If you had heard that sentence over the phone, you might have wondered, if he was talking to his wife. Unfortunately for us, there was only one printer in the floor, and that was at the other corner. Even more unfortunate for me, Nandisha didn't have a wife to order around.
Being fresh from college, as of then, I had not yet attended the corporate session, that taught that it was okay for me to say No to people, except your manager. Implicit rank and file was as important in the 'flat-hierarchy' organization, as the technology we worked on.
As luck would have it, the printer auto-feed was not workng, and I had to manually feed papers for the next twenty minutes. It was a printout of a kannada movie review.
Back to work, I tried to focus on the intricacies of a web application, when I saw his hand again above the cubicle wall, again. "Some more printouts", he said. Irritated as I was, I spent another half hour at the printer. This time, it was an in-depth review of "Samsara saagarige hanniredu suthrigalau" - "The twelve sutras of married life", a kannada hit movie of the past. As much as I would come to like that movie in the future, I still don't understand why Nandisha - who was 35, and who had been unable to find a girl to marry him - was so interested in this particular movie.
The third time I saw his raised hand, Shyam smirked loudly, and I could feel anger rise, along with the blood pressure. I stood up, looking at Nandisha, as I shook my head slowly - though not as slowly as Nandisha - hoping to buy time for coming up with a good reason why I should refuse. Since there was no good reason whatsover for me to do it for him, except that he had hurt his leg, I looked at Krishna. Krishna - the manager, turned his head toward a monitor in another direction to avoid getting involved.
"What are you thinking? You wont do what am asking you to?", Nandisha asked threateningly, using his seniority weapon.
"Krishna, must I do it?", I asked, trying to get another 'senior' to opine on the issue.
"You could refuse if you don't want to do it", Krishna didn't look at me when he conveyed his cautious opinion.
I looked up at Nandisha - after all he was at least a foot taller than I'm, and was standing on his one leg by this time - and said, "I refuse", and managed to whisper, "Sorry", without actually meaning it.
"Am asking you for a help. Wont you do this much for a senior colleague? After all, we teach you new things here. We help you grow, and you wont do this small thing for me?". His tone was subdued. If somebody used the stopwatch, this sentence would have taken a minute for him to utter, with equally slow gestures.
He had a rather disgusting habit of rolling his upper lip out, as if he wanted to wet a postal-stamp with it, and moving it from one side to another. I was too engrossed in this action, I hardly noticed what he was saying.
X-----------------------X----------------------X
I don't want to leave on the readers, an impression that I was being cruel and was biased in my opinion against him. I did try to mend the relationship - after all in India, all colleagues are "friends" anyways.
X-----------------------X----------------------X
"Nandisha, I would like your feedback on how am faring in the project... like technical knowledge, speed, etc., In short, how good or bad I'm", I asked him as we sat in the canteen eating our breakfast one day, just to strike a conversation.
"You are doing good technically...", He looked up from his plate as he said that. I wondered how qualified that opinion was, as nobody had seen him work on a piece of software or hardware, but the internet browser and the telephone for the past six months.
"But you are very aggressive. It is not good"
"You mean, I'm assertive? more than needed?"
"No, no... you should be friendly with the team. You might be right in some circumstances, but you should let friends have their way."
I was looking at his face, searching for a meaning.
"You should obey seniors. Otherwise, they will not help you to grow up the ranks...".
The rest of the monologue was a blur for me. I was engrossed in how his upper lips twisted out, moving from side to side, wetting the invisible postal-stamp.
X-----------------------X----------------------X
Soon afterwards, in a series of 'unrelated' events, the US economy broke down, causing ripples in the software industry in India, stocks plummeted, Nandisha sold his car and house, indian companies panicked, and 'let go' non-performing employees.
Last I heard of Nandisha, he was visiting the psychiatrist more often, after he got flushed out of the company, and his bride-to-be broke up the engagement. I only wonder how senior the psychiatrist was.
Let me also make it known, that I did not write this in an attempt to re-establish contact with Nandisha, quite the contrary.
Nandisha was one such for me. For some reason, his world revolved at a lesser Frames Per Second than the rest of us. It might be because he was physically huge. Tall, round, in short like a huge barrel, but useless. Indians might be able to understand, if I compare him to a buffalo. If you have ever seen buffalo, straight from the gutter, crossing the road, blocking your car, you'll know what I mean. You can't touch him to make him move, you'll splash scum on yourself. You can honk all you want, but he won't move. You can only sit in your car, honk and more importantly - pray that he moves away. And after a while, engrossed in his own thoughts, the buffalo will start walking, at his own pace, right onto the tracks of a speeding town bus. Screeches and shouts later, the buffalo will be doing his own thing, oblivious to the commotion around.
Well, you get the picture. Now, Nandisha was a human buffalo. He used to work, or should I say, he was employed by the company where I joined right after college. He had a big ego, and a even bigger stock portfolio - which he enhanced during his office hours, calling stock brokers using the office telephone and talking loud enough to disturb others.
He had been with the company for 8 years then, and was respected more for the position, than the person he was. He was a senior programmer by designation.
X-----------------------X----------------------X
"...and I do not know, Krishna, the car hit the pavement, and electric post...", Nandisha was explaining, at his own pace, how he hurt his leg, to the Manager.
"Car accident, I see... who was driving?..", I said, partly glad of the situation, spying his heavily bandaged left leg as I walked into the cube.
"... I was sitting on the right side, that is why I got hurt..."
"You got a left-hand-steering car?", I was still confused as to how he got hurt.
"... aare, no, yaar!", he turned around, slow as a sloth.
"Then, who was driving the car?", I asked him, still wondering why he was sounding like he was only sitting in a car, that hit the curb.
"I was driving the car... but the car lost control", he explained.
"Well, well...", I said to myself, "Nandisha cant move fast enough to hurt his leg, can he? Its got to be the car that lost control.".
X-----------------------X----------------------X
Nandisha made himself comfortable at his chair and started browsing the internet. In those days, internet access was restricted for most of us young workers. It was given only to the privileged few. Nandisha had been with the company for 8 years, and by virtue of being a senior, he held this privilege.
Most of that day was uneventful, until sometime after lunch.
"Hey!", he called out raising his hand, to get my attention from the other side of the cube.
"What, Nandisha?", I stood up, so that we could see each other's faces, making the conversation more comfortable.
"Get the printouts for me, no?", he said, more of a statement, than a request. If you had heard that sentence over the phone, you might have wondered, if he was talking to his wife. Unfortunately for us, there was only one printer in the floor, and that was at the other corner. Even more unfortunate for me, Nandisha didn't have a wife to order around.
Being fresh from college, as of then, I had not yet attended the corporate session, that taught that it was okay for me to say No to people, except your manager. Implicit rank and file was as important in the 'flat-hierarchy' organization, as the technology we worked on.
As luck would have it, the printer auto-feed was not workng, and I had to manually feed papers for the next twenty minutes. It was a printout of a kannada movie review.
Back to work, I tried to focus on the intricacies of a web application, when I saw his hand again above the cubicle wall, again. "Some more printouts", he said. Irritated as I was, I spent another half hour at the printer. This time, it was an in-depth review of "Samsara saagarige hanniredu suthrigalau" - "The twelve sutras of married life", a kannada hit movie of the past. As much as I would come to like that movie in the future, I still don't understand why Nandisha - who was 35, and who had been unable to find a girl to marry him - was so interested in this particular movie.
The third time I saw his raised hand, Shyam smirked loudly, and I could feel anger rise, along with the blood pressure. I stood up, looking at Nandisha, as I shook my head slowly - though not as slowly as Nandisha - hoping to buy time for coming up with a good reason why I should refuse. Since there was no good reason whatsover for me to do it for him, except that he had hurt his leg, I looked at Krishna. Krishna - the manager, turned his head toward a monitor in another direction to avoid getting involved.
"What are you thinking? You wont do what am asking you to?", Nandisha asked threateningly, using his seniority weapon.
"Krishna, must I do it?", I asked, trying to get another 'senior' to opine on the issue.
"You could refuse if you don't want to do it", Krishna didn't look at me when he conveyed his cautious opinion.
I looked up at Nandisha - after all he was at least a foot taller than I'm, and was standing on his one leg by this time - and said, "I refuse", and managed to whisper, "Sorry", without actually meaning it.
"Am asking you for a help. Wont you do this much for a senior colleague? After all, we teach you new things here. We help you grow, and you wont do this small thing for me?". His tone was subdued. If somebody used the stopwatch, this sentence would have taken a minute for him to utter, with equally slow gestures.
He had a rather disgusting habit of rolling his upper lip out, as if he wanted to wet a postal-stamp with it, and moving it from one side to another. I was too engrossed in this action, I hardly noticed what he was saying.
X-----------------------X----------------------X
I don't want to leave on the readers, an impression that I was being cruel and was biased in my opinion against him. I did try to mend the relationship - after all in India, all colleagues are "friends" anyways.
X-----------------------X----------------------X
"Nandisha, I would like your feedback on how am faring in the project... like technical knowledge, speed, etc., In short, how good or bad I'm", I asked him as we sat in the canteen eating our breakfast one day, just to strike a conversation.
"You are doing good technically...", He looked up from his plate as he said that. I wondered how qualified that opinion was, as nobody had seen him work on a piece of software or hardware, but the internet browser and the telephone for the past six months.
"But you are very aggressive. It is not good"
"You mean, I'm assertive? more than needed?"
"No, no... you should be friendly with the team. You might be right in some circumstances, but you should let friends have their way."
I was looking at his face, searching for a meaning.
"You should obey seniors. Otherwise, they will not help you to grow up the ranks...".
The rest of the monologue was a blur for me. I was engrossed in how his upper lips twisted out, moving from side to side, wetting the invisible postal-stamp.
X-----------------------X----------------------X
Soon afterwards, in a series of 'unrelated' events, the US economy broke down, causing ripples in the software industry in India, stocks plummeted, Nandisha sold his car and house, indian companies panicked, and 'let go' non-performing employees.
Last I heard of Nandisha, he was visiting the psychiatrist more often, after he got flushed out of the company, and his bride-to-be broke up the engagement. I only wonder how senior the psychiatrist was.
Let me also make it known, that I did not write this in an attempt to re-establish contact with Nandisha, quite the contrary.
Wednesday, May 31, 2006
Road Rules
"Hey, welcome to Japan!", Vikram hugged him, as Anand stepped out of the ticket barricades at the Nishi-Nasuno station.
Vikram briefed Anand about the town and the surroundings, as he drove Anand to their dorm.
"Why don't you overtake him...", Anand couldn't resist interrupting Vikram. They had been trailing a mini-van for the past 10 or so minutes at a very slow speed.
"Aare, nahi yaar... idhar yellow line hai...", said Vikram pointing to the yellow line that ran the middle of the lonely road. "pakda gaye tho... I have to spend my whole month's salary on the fine..."
"But its such a lonely road, who is going to catch us?"
"No, No, No... rules are important, and moreover, that mini-vans are typically driven by old people here, I don't want to scare the budda", Vikram trailed the mini-van till the end of the road.
Vikram stopped at a stop sign on a very empty road, saw his speed-o-meter needle hit 0, and then moved again.
Anand instinctively looked at his watch. It was 2AM.
X--------------------------------------X--------------------------------------X
Anand was driving them to work in his brand new Honda.
Vikram was restless as they were late for a presentation.
"Aare, hit the gas man, we are late...", Vikram sipped from a can of coke, as Anand maneuvered the car on the high traffic lane.
Anand overtook a truck on the wrong side of the road, and was above to steer clear, when he noticed the lights turning orange.
Anand's adrenaline soared, as Vikram pressurized him, "Go, Go, Go...!". Anand hit the gas, and they went clear through a red-light.
"Damn", Anand kept repeating, as the Police car pulled them over the dusty side-lane. Vikram kept looking at his watch.
"For all the trouble of chasing us down, they are gonna charge a bomb...", Anand was now more worried about the fine.
Just as the policeman neared the car, Vikram said, "Let me deal with him", and jumped out of the car.
A few minutes went by. Anand was impatiently watching Vikram Talking animatedly with the policeman, from inside his air-conditioned car.
When he could take it no more, Anand stepped out of the car to listen to their conversation.
"Sir, you know the difficulty sir, the fine would almost be 400 Rupees...", dragged the constable in a worn out uniform and black shoes that had turned green due to lack of attention.
"What 400? no, no... bus pachaas doonga..."
"okay sir, give 150, you know for all the radio, and chasing... give 150 sir.."
"nahi, nahi, bahut hai, pachas..."
The argument continues in the blistering hot Indian terrain.
Vikram briefed Anand about the town and the surroundings, as he drove Anand to their dorm.
"Why don't you overtake him...", Anand couldn't resist interrupting Vikram. They had been trailing a mini-van for the past 10 or so minutes at a very slow speed.
"Aare, nahi yaar... idhar yellow line hai...", said Vikram pointing to the yellow line that ran the middle of the lonely road. "pakda gaye tho... I have to spend my whole month's salary on the fine..."
"But its such a lonely road, who is going to catch us?"
"No, No, No... rules are important, and moreover, that mini-vans are typically driven by old people here, I don't want to scare the budda", Vikram trailed the mini-van till the end of the road.
Vikram stopped at a stop sign on a very empty road, saw his speed-o-meter needle hit 0, and then moved again.
Anand instinctively looked at his watch. It was 2AM.
X--------------------------------------X--------------------------------------X
Anand was driving them to work in his brand new Honda.
Vikram was restless as they were late for a presentation.
"Aare, hit the gas man, we are late...", Vikram sipped from a can of coke, as Anand maneuvered the car on the high traffic lane.
Anand overtook a truck on the wrong side of the road, and was above to steer clear, when he noticed the lights turning orange.
Anand's adrenaline soared, as Vikram pressurized him, "Go, Go, Go...!". Anand hit the gas, and they went clear through a red-light.
"Damn", Anand kept repeating, as the Police car pulled them over the dusty side-lane. Vikram kept looking at his watch.
"For all the trouble of chasing us down, they are gonna charge a bomb...", Anand was now more worried about the fine.
Just as the policeman neared the car, Vikram said, "Let me deal with him", and jumped out of the car.
A few minutes went by. Anand was impatiently watching Vikram Talking animatedly with the policeman, from inside his air-conditioned car.
When he could take it no more, Anand stepped out of the car to listen to their conversation.
"Sir, you know the difficulty sir, the fine would almost be 400 Rupees...", dragged the constable in a worn out uniform and black shoes that had turned green due to lack of attention.
"What 400? no, no... bus pachaas doonga..."
"okay sir, give 150, you know for all the radio, and chasing... give 150 sir.."
"nahi, nahi, bahut hai, pachas..."
The argument continues in the blistering hot Indian terrain.
Thursday, May 25, 2006
The Corporate Ladder
"Hey, Charu, lets go!", that was the chorus of friends waving out to Charu. Charu moved away from Praveen's hold, and their fingers touched as they let go of each other.
"You forget all about us when Praveen is around", her friends shouted aimlessly as Charu walked towards them.
"Hey, just a sec...".
Praveen watched her walking back to him; Her curly hair, dangling over her cheeks, dimpled by the smile, that made her look like rathi - the consort of the god of love.
"I love you honey", Charu whispered into Praveen's ears, brushing her cheek with his doing so. With friends booing her from some 20 feet away, Charu started walking back to them.
Praveen watched as her negligible waistline moved from side to side, rocking him into dreamland.
She walked away in pure splendid beauty.
X----------------------------------------X--------------------------------------X
"Samay is cool, he was my senior in College. He might be able to tell us how to move into dev. He is a good corporate climber", Praveen said, as they walked hand-in-hand into the dev area.
Praveen and Charu were posted in the Quality Assurance department, testing the software churned out by the development department aka dev. Praveen being a topper in college, was cut out for challenges, which were rampant in dev. Moreover, being in dev was a status symbol.
Praveen introduced Samay to Charu. Samay was dumbstruck at the beauty that stood in front of him. It took him a while to recover and mumble a "hi". Charu coolly offered her hand.
Charu waited, watching Samay and Praveen discuss technical topics. She didn't understand a word of it. In spite of all the aspirations to move into dev, she simply was dumb folded by technical discussions. She watched her patience wear thin very quickly.
"Praveen, am leaving", she said looking pointedly into his eyes.
"Charu, just a few more minutes ma... Samay is giving some great ideas, that might help us climb the corporate ladder faster. In fact he himself has steadily climbed up the ranks, and within a short period.".
Samay seemed embarrassed.
"Corporate ladder, my foot!", she turned and walked away.
Praveen couldn't get himself to hold her back. He couldn't understand what made her so angry. But all he was thinking was, "She looks so beautiful, even when she is angry". It hurt part of himself to hurt her. He simply stood watching her go.
She walked away in anger.
X----------------------------------------X--------------------------------------X
"Why don't you get yourself a bike, Praveen", Charu asked, as they waited for the company bus to pick them up in the morning.
"hmm, I don't think I need one. There are enough bus services to the office, right? And visits to M.G.Road arent that frequent given our work schedules..."
"Don't you ever think about me? That I might want you do stuff for me?", Charu was complaining in general, as she always did.
"My dear, Charu, Anything for you. But *I* don't need a bike. How about you buy a scooty for yourself?", Praveen turned around and put a hand on her shoulder affectionately.
Praveen doted on her as if they were already married. They had been together for 5 years, and marriage wasn't far off, he thought. Charu was always the money-minded of the two, and Praveen was the forgiving of the two. Thus it worked.
At the exact same moment, they watched a bike whiz by, stop a few feet ahead of where they stood.
"Wanna ride, folks?", said the rider as he pulled up the visor of his helmet.
"Samay!", exclaimed Praveen, from where he was, "How are you dude? Whats up wit...". Praveen's voice trailed as he saw Charu walking towards Samay.
Strangely, he didn't feel motivated to stop her, or even walk towards them to find out what was happening.
"She wanted to ride on a bike...", was all he was thinking. "Should I have paid more attention to what she wanted?"
He watched her splendid body move in a perfect rhythm, even as she hurried towards Samay's bike.
She walked away indifferently.
X----------------------------------------X--------------------------------------X
Praveen saw less and less of her, and Samay saw more and more of her.
Everybody in the team started talking of Samay and Charu. "The ideal couple", he heard them say. "She forgets all about us when Samay is around", he heard her colleagues complain. "She forgets... She forgets...", Praveen thought, as he wondered how soon the world forgets the past.
It took Praveen a while, but he got back on his foot, focusing more on his job, trying hard for the move into dev or the promotion upward. He couldn't help notice that Charu was slipping on the work-front. She was becoming fashionable day-by-day, taking trips with Samay abroad, but when it came to work, she simply spent very less time at it. Praveen sighed as he deliberately pushed thoughts about her away.
Praveen could no longer talk to Samay like he used to. He wondered how Samay acted like nothing had happened between them and their girlfriends. Maybe thats the way the corporate world is, he thought to himself. Ruthless and nothing personal about it. Nevertheless, he worked hard and single-handedly faced impossible deadlines and impossible people, even as he watched peer leave for 'greener pastures'.
"They only want a new job. They can never make a career if they keep switching jobs like this", Pramod Saxena - his new-found mentor reasoned. Pramod was the head of the team in Bangalore. The 'big-boss'. Praveen went to him whenever he felt his job weighing down on him. Pramod always seemed to have an answer. Sometimes, Praveen wondered if Pramod was being biased toward the company when he advised Praveen. But Pramod not only advised Praveen about the job, but also encouraged him to apply for the only post open in dev. "He is really concerned about my career", Praveen thought. After all, Pramod gets to decide who gets that job in dev. "Maybe he has a surprise waiting for me", Praveen was excited at the prospect, as he went to bed that day.
X----------------------------------------X--------------------------------------X
On the occasion of a release party aka `the big day', Praveen had to complete a few reports for the week and get some preliminary work done for the next week. He sighed as he got the work done, and shut-down his computer. He looked at his watch and realized that he was late for the party.
Praveen was the hot favorite to clinch the `Best QA Engineer of the year'. He had been solely responsible for uncovering some vital design flaws early in the testing phase. He had also motivated and mentored a small team to achieve 1.5 times the number of bugs expected as per industry metrics. Big achievements for a person just one year into his job. A plethora of people `pre-congratulated' him on the award. Praveen was also waiting eagerly for the day, as Pramod had promised everybody that he would announce who from QA would move into dev. After all these hints, and the fact that Pramod himself had asked Praveen to apply, it seemed to Praveen that the dev job was his, and worth all his efforts that year.
He noticed that Samay and Charu were standing near the dias, with wine-glasses in hand, talking to people in important places. He was astonished that Charu had started drinking. But he deliberately turned his thoughts away from her, and talked to a few teammates here and there, as he had his glass of `fanta'.
Suddenly, there was some static on the speakers. He saw Pramod come on stage and wave to everybody. After a few initial formal words, Pramod said he wanted to toast for a very special couple.
"To Samay and Charulatha...", he said, "The pillars of dev and QA who got us where we are".
The crowd chorused what seemed like "ToSam yaA ChNaruDta", as everybody raised their glasses up in the air. Praveen started wondering if Pramod was drunk. But it was difficult to say, as he suddenly felt that Pramod always talked like he was drunk.
"Charu also bags the `Best QA Engineer of the year' award! Charu, come on stage and get your cheque, cmon...", Pramod was slurring by now. But nobody seemed to notice.
"...and as a token of appreciation, I have decided to let Charu move into the `dev analyst' role. Am sure she would do me proud."
Praveen could no longer hear what was happening around him. He couldn't decide what hurt him more. Was it the sleepless nights? Was it the rain of blows that were just delivered? Was it the because even the `pre-congratulators' didn't seem to mind?
But amidst this all, he could see Charu walking towards the dais.
Her dazzling red gown and make-up strangely, made her look ugly. But he had to admit that she had become this seductress and a good one at that.
He watched her walk up the dias haughtily.
X----------------------------------------X--------------------------------------X
It did not take long for Praveen to find a new job, though he did not have the luxury of negotiating the salary.
"I just have to leave, and now!", he thought to himself.
"I placed so much faith in you. I was even planning to move you into dev. You are betraying us...", Pramod burst out. Praveen couldn't understand why Pramod was angry or why he was making up YAUP - Yet Another Unkept Promise. Not that he cared anymore.
What hurt him was the difference between what he thought he could accomplish in the company versus what he had accomplished in the company. He had lost a year with no improvements in his career, tons of working hours, his girlfriend, and most of all - faith in the company.
As they say, time heals. But part of our past comes back to haunt us from time to time. For Praveen, it took a couple of months.
Praveen was waiting for his company bus to pick him up.
A car stopped in front of where he stood. It was a chauffeured "Hyundai Sonata" - The favorite among executives recently. The gleaming gold-framed, white door opened, and out stepped Charulatha.
She was dressed like a royal, and was a world apart from the Charu he had known a few months back. She was an eye-turner, literally.
She walked towards him, resplendent in artificial beauty, stood before him and smiled.
Praveen couldn't help notice that this was the same place where she once walked away to ride with Samay.
She smiled like there had been no past. She smiled like as if she Praveen would enjoy her presence. She smiled like as if she was smiling self-lessly.
She opened her hand-bag and pulled out a charmingly done, expensive invite.
"Am getting married. You should come with your family. Are you married yet?...", Charu's words might have sounded so genuine and sincere to anybody around them, but not to Praveen. But he couldn't make out. He tried looking into her eyes. She hadn't bothered to take her sun-glasses off. He deliberately took his eyes off her and looked at the invite.
"Anyways, please do come. By the by, do you need a lift? Am going towards Electronic City too. Need to hand out a few invites...", she blabbered on endlessly.
Praveen shook his head with his gaze fixed at the invite. The invite had said:
"August 15, 2006, Charulatha Murthy weds Pramod Saxena."
He didn't realize that she had started walking back. When he lifted his eyes from the invite, she was already walking towards the car.
He watched her walk with an air of confidence. No, was it indifference? No, she wasn't walking. She was climbing - climbing the corporate ladder.
"You forget all about us when Praveen is around", her friends shouted aimlessly as Charu walked towards them.
"Hey, just a sec...".
Praveen watched her walking back to him; Her curly hair, dangling over her cheeks, dimpled by the smile, that made her look like rathi - the consort of the god of love.
"I love you honey", Charu whispered into Praveen's ears, brushing her cheek with his doing so. With friends booing her from some 20 feet away, Charu started walking back to them.
Praveen watched as her negligible waistline moved from side to side, rocking him into dreamland.
She walked away in pure splendid beauty.
X----------------------------------------X--------------------------------------X
"Samay is cool, he was my senior in College. He might be able to tell us how to move into dev. He is a good corporate climber", Praveen said, as they walked hand-in-hand into the dev area.
Praveen and Charu were posted in the Quality Assurance department, testing the software churned out by the development department aka dev. Praveen being a topper in college, was cut out for challenges, which were rampant in dev. Moreover, being in dev was a status symbol.
Praveen introduced Samay to Charu. Samay was dumbstruck at the beauty that stood in front of him. It took him a while to recover and mumble a "hi". Charu coolly offered her hand.
Charu waited, watching Samay and Praveen discuss technical topics. She didn't understand a word of it. In spite of all the aspirations to move into dev, she simply was dumb folded by technical discussions. She watched her patience wear thin very quickly.
"Praveen, am leaving", she said looking pointedly into his eyes.
"Charu, just a few more minutes ma... Samay is giving some great ideas, that might help us climb the corporate ladder faster. In fact he himself has steadily climbed up the ranks, and within a short period.".
Samay seemed embarrassed.
"Corporate ladder, my foot!", she turned and walked away.
Praveen couldn't get himself to hold her back. He couldn't understand what made her so angry. But all he was thinking was, "She looks so beautiful, even when she is angry". It hurt part of himself to hurt her. He simply stood watching her go.
She walked away in anger.
X----------------------------------------X--------------------------------------X
"Why don't you get yourself a bike, Praveen", Charu asked, as they waited for the company bus to pick them up in the morning.
"hmm, I don't think I need one. There are enough bus services to the office, right? And visits to M.G.Road arent that frequent given our work schedules..."
"Don't you ever think about me? That I might want you do stuff for me?", Charu was complaining in general, as she always did.
"My dear, Charu, Anything for you. But *I* don't need a bike. How about you buy a scooty for yourself?", Praveen turned around and put a hand on her shoulder affectionately.
Praveen doted on her as if they were already married. They had been together for 5 years, and marriage wasn't far off, he thought. Charu was always the money-minded of the two, and Praveen was the forgiving of the two. Thus it worked.
At the exact same moment, they watched a bike whiz by, stop a few feet ahead of where they stood.
"Wanna ride, folks?", said the rider as he pulled up the visor of his helmet.
"Samay!", exclaimed Praveen, from where he was, "How are you dude? Whats up wit...". Praveen's voice trailed as he saw Charu walking towards Samay.
Strangely, he didn't feel motivated to stop her, or even walk towards them to find out what was happening.
"She wanted to ride on a bike...", was all he was thinking. "Should I have paid more attention to what she wanted?"
He watched her splendid body move in a perfect rhythm, even as she hurried towards Samay's bike.
She walked away indifferently.
X----------------------------------------X--------------------------------------X
Praveen saw less and less of her, and Samay saw more and more of her.
Everybody in the team started talking of Samay and Charu. "The ideal couple", he heard them say. "She forgets all about us when Samay is around", he heard her colleagues complain. "She forgets... She forgets...", Praveen thought, as he wondered how soon the world forgets the past.
It took Praveen a while, but he got back on his foot, focusing more on his job, trying hard for the move into dev or the promotion upward. He couldn't help notice that Charu was slipping on the work-front. She was becoming fashionable day-by-day, taking trips with Samay abroad, but when it came to work, she simply spent very less time at it. Praveen sighed as he deliberately pushed thoughts about her away.
Praveen could no longer talk to Samay like he used to. He wondered how Samay acted like nothing had happened between them and their girlfriends. Maybe thats the way the corporate world is, he thought to himself. Ruthless and nothing personal about it. Nevertheless, he worked hard and single-handedly faced impossible deadlines and impossible people, even as he watched peer leave for 'greener pastures'.
"They only want a new job. They can never make a career if they keep switching jobs like this", Pramod Saxena - his new-found mentor reasoned. Pramod was the head of the team in Bangalore. The 'big-boss'. Praveen went to him whenever he felt his job weighing down on him. Pramod always seemed to have an answer. Sometimes, Praveen wondered if Pramod was being biased toward the company when he advised Praveen. But Pramod not only advised Praveen about the job, but also encouraged him to apply for the only post open in dev. "He is really concerned about my career", Praveen thought. After all, Pramod gets to decide who gets that job in dev. "Maybe he has a surprise waiting for me", Praveen was excited at the prospect, as he went to bed that day.
X----------------------------------------X--------------------------------------X
On the occasion of a release party aka `the big day', Praveen had to complete a few reports for the week and get some preliminary work done for the next week. He sighed as he got the work done, and shut-down his computer. He looked at his watch and realized that he was late for the party.
Praveen was the hot favorite to clinch the `Best QA Engineer of the year'. He had been solely responsible for uncovering some vital design flaws early in the testing phase. He had also motivated and mentored a small team to achieve 1.5 times the number of bugs expected as per industry metrics. Big achievements for a person just one year into his job. A plethora of people `pre-congratulated' him on the award. Praveen was also waiting eagerly for the day, as Pramod had promised everybody that he would announce who from QA would move into dev. After all these hints, and the fact that Pramod himself had asked Praveen to apply, it seemed to Praveen that the dev job was his, and worth all his efforts that year.
He noticed that Samay and Charu were standing near the dias, with wine-glasses in hand, talking to people in important places. He was astonished that Charu had started drinking. But he deliberately turned his thoughts away from her, and talked to a few teammates here and there, as he had his glass of `fanta'.
Suddenly, there was some static on the speakers. He saw Pramod come on stage and wave to everybody. After a few initial formal words, Pramod said he wanted to toast for a very special couple.
"To Samay and Charulatha...", he said, "The pillars of dev and QA who got us where we are".
The crowd chorused what seemed like "ToSam yaA ChNaruDta", as everybody raised their glasses up in the air. Praveen started wondering if Pramod was drunk. But it was difficult to say, as he suddenly felt that Pramod always talked like he was drunk.
"Charu also bags the `Best QA Engineer of the year' award! Charu, come on stage and get your cheque, cmon...", Pramod was slurring by now. But nobody seemed to notice.
"...and as a token of appreciation, I have decided to let Charu move into the `dev analyst' role. Am sure she would do me proud."
Praveen could no longer hear what was happening around him. He couldn't decide what hurt him more. Was it the sleepless nights? Was it the rain of blows that were just delivered? Was it the because even the `pre-congratulators' didn't seem to mind?
But amidst this all, he could see Charu walking towards the dais.
Her dazzling red gown and make-up strangely, made her look ugly. But he had to admit that she had become this seductress and a good one at that.
He watched her walk up the dias haughtily.
X----------------------------------------X--------------------------------------X
It did not take long for Praveen to find a new job, though he did not have the luxury of negotiating the salary.
"I just have to leave, and now!", he thought to himself.
"I placed so much faith in you. I was even planning to move you into dev. You are betraying us...", Pramod burst out. Praveen couldn't understand why Pramod was angry or why he was making up YAUP - Yet Another Unkept Promise. Not that he cared anymore.
What hurt him was the difference between what he thought he could accomplish in the company versus what he had accomplished in the company. He had lost a year with no improvements in his career, tons of working hours, his girlfriend, and most of all - faith in the company.
As they say, time heals. But part of our past comes back to haunt us from time to time. For Praveen, it took a couple of months.
Praveen was waiting for his company bus to pick him up.
A car stopped in front of where he stood. It was a chauffeured "Hyundai Sonata" - The favorite among executives recently. The gleaming gold-framed, white door opened, and out stepped Charulatha.
She was dressed like a royal, and was a world apart from the Charu he had known a few months back. She was an eye-turner, literally.
She walked towards him, resplendent in artificial beauty, stood before him and smiled.
Praveen couldn't help notice that this was the same place where she once walked away to ride with Samay.
She smiled like there had been no past. She smiled like as if she Praveen would enjoy her presence. She smiled like as if she was smiling self-lessly.
She opened her hand-bag and pulled out a charmingly done, expensive invite.
"Am getting married. You should come with your family. Are you married yet?...", Charu's words might have sounded so genuine and sincere to anybody around them, but not to Praveen. But he couldn't make out. He tried looking into her eyes. She hadn't bothered to take her sun-glasses off. He deliberately took his eyes off her and looked at the invite.
"Anyways, please do come. By the by, do you need a lift? Am going towards Electronic City too. Need to hand out a few invites...", she blabbered on endlessly.
Praveen shook his head with his gaze fixed at the invite. The invite had said:
"August 15, 2006, Charulatha Murthy weds Pramod Saxena."
He didn't realize that she had started walking back. When he lifted his eyes from the invite, she was already walking towards the car.
He watched her walk with an air of confidence. No, was it indifference? No, she wasn't walking. She was climbing - climbing the corporate ladder.
Friday, May 19, 2006
Patience is a virtue - Part II
Krishna reached home in a fit of rage and a headache that had worsened during his victorious rendezvous on Bowring Road.
"Are you going to eat?". That was Vasudha Veeraraghavan.
Vasudha was Veeraraghavan's wife of 32 years. Vasudha and Veeraraghavan were always the envy of neighbors. Veeraraghavan was employed at the `Central Bank of India' for latter 40 years of his life, always avoiding promotions and the transfers that came with it. Raghavan had doted on his wife and only son - Krishna. Raghavan was as proud of Krishna as Krishna was of his father. Vasudha watched them grow older, adoring the two men in her life.
"Dont you want me to...?", shouted back Krishna.
"No... just that its 4pm, and was wondering if you already had lunch somewhere...", Vasudha said, stretching, getting up from her afternoon nap. "Its almost coffee time."
"I'd sure like a coffee...", That was Raghavan.
"Like I didn't know you would... could you wait for 10 minutes more? I got to make dikakshen now..." It was more of a statement than a question.
"Sure, take your time, Vasu. You know, one should enjoy the time at the kitchen, don't hurry yourself... meanwhile, I'll munch on the murukku that Asif-bai brought.. damn, can't believe he can make a brahmin specialty like he was one. Could I help you with the dishes... or would you rather...", Raghavan ranted on endlessly. One could see the love of life and his wife in his words.
"Where the hell is Saridon, Amma? Dont you refill the first-aid box every month?". That was Krishna, interrupting his father's not-so-useful monologue.
Veeraraghavan, looked up from his book through his bifocal, staring at the impatient Krishna. Said nothing.
"It must be right over there, in the horlicks bottle beside the old first-aid box...", Vasudha came out of the kitchen, wiping the sweat of her forehead, with her saree.
"Can you beleive this is Bangalore, its so hot...", she smiled as she passed Raghavan in the hall. Raghavan smiled understandingly and went back to his book.
Crash... rattle... "Dang your reorganization, why don't you label the new containers? AMMA, WHERE ARE YOU?", shouted Krishna as he threw down the strip of medicine in his hand. His heache was splitting now.
"... hold on, hold on, was right on the way... relax, Kicha... Look... here it is..", she said, as she pulled out the strip of saridon from the other lot of medicine.
"Give it to me", said Krishna, as he snatched the strip from her hands.
Raghavan was watching the commotion added...
"Why dont you eat first, that should fix your headache... it must be the sun... eat and relax. Its not good to swallow medicines everytime you have an ache or pain. Use it if you still have the headache after eating... why am telling you all this is...", Raghavan stopped on the tracks, when he noticed that Krishna wasn't paying attention. He went over to the kitchen munching Asif-bai's kai-murukku.
"Be easy on him. He seems to be in some kinda of tension..."
"Okay, Mr.Daddy. Dont tell me how to deal with my son... you better tell him to leave his office woes at office... ", Vasudha was the one short-tempered among the two of them.
Raghavan gently went on into boasting about Asif-bai's culinary skills, as if he didn't hear what she just said. Vasudha turned around from the stove, and gave an angry stare, twisting her lips to either sides of her face, hands on the hips. Raghavan winked at her.
"Are you going to feed me or not?", shouted Krishna from the dining table. Vasudha hurried to serve him.
------------------------------X------------------------------
"Krishna, Mukunda, murare...", sang Raghavan, animatedly, counting his `thala', as he walked into the dining room, munching Asif bai's kai-murukku.
For a second, Krishna thought that Raghavan was calling out to him.
"uh...?"
"Nothing, Kicha, nothing, was just trying to get you to relax..."
"From what?"
"Aren't you feeling tense? Feeling like everybody else is getting on your nerves?
"Ah, dont bother, Appa.Its just something at office..."
Then, there was silence. But Raghavan had caught Krishna's attention. Raghavan was always `the Buddha' of the house. Krishna was proud of his father and his experiences. More so, of the way he shared worldly wisdom with his son.
"You want to say something, dont you?", Krishna broke the ice, but was calmer.
"Krishna, my boy, letting temper take over is like stepping on the gas of a car, thats speeding over a cliff - no brakes."
Krishna thought long and hard. He knew that his father was right. Anger never helped. He could safely deduce from his near-decade industry experience. But today, everybody seemed to be taking turns driving him crazy. First it was George and Anubhav, then it was Samantha. Later it was the trouble with the cyclist - with no brakes.
"What if you see somebody driving a car at you like that, what if I weren't the one stepping on the gas?", asked Krishna, sure that Raghavan would have an answer.
"You just have to move out of the car's way. Now, how difficult is that?"
"..."
"Its only a matter of time. Let the temper drive the car down the cliff. When you look down from the edge of the cliff, you'll know that the car isn't yours. Neither was the problem, it never was...", Raghavan had deftly linked the metaphor with `the problem'.
"Patience is a virtue, it really is", Raghavan patted his son on the back, and left him to contemplate.
------------------------------X------------------------------
Anubhav didn't say a word, since he walked into the room. Krishna dialed the number to the US office on the speaker phone, as the clock stuck 11 - PM of course.
"Hello", That was Samantha.
"Samantha, Krishna here. Anubhav is here with me..."
"Hi people", Samantha and George shouted in chorus from the other end.
"Hi...", Anubhav chirped in, not so interestedly.
The rest of the conversation wouldn't interest the readers as much it would George. Suffice to say George took over after the status discussion.
"Ram and Nitin must stay with us to get us to Endura... They are great resources!". George made Ram sound like RAM - as in Random Access Memory, and Nitin sound more like a tin-box.
"George, it has been a long time since they both visited their families. Moreover, Anubhav tells me that we are comfortably placed to reach Endura.", Krishna defended.
"Nah, not again, I do not get this point of `visiting family' and `friend's marriage'. How long would they take anyway? We could get resources who would take lesser days off for a friend's marriage out here".
Krishna touched Anubhav's shoulder and indicated him to keep calm.
"I'll take care, Anubhav. Don't worry", Krishna whispered into Anubhav's ears.
They didn't see Samantha glaring unbelievably at George and shaking her head. Neither did George.
"George, its also Diwali - the christmas of the hindus. The first Diwali after marriage has special importance in the hindu family...", Krishna tried to rationalize.
"@#$%, oops, did I just say that...", continued George in mocking apology, "Even today, I had to take Nancy to the doc before I arrived here. Didn't I make it, sharp at 10.30 AM? You folks dialed in 7 minutes late. You guys should try to be more professional...", George continued the rant, in spite of Samantha.
Anubhav was near the edge of his seat, only passified by Krishna who promised to handle the situation. But Krishna wasn't talking.
George had by now crossed the limits of social and professional behavior - indian and american.
Unknown to Krishna and Anubhav, Samantha tried to interfere, but George was unstoppable..
"Sssh!..dont...", whispered Krishna as he motioned to Anubhav, with a finger on his mouth. But Anubhav was about to explode.
"My wife is out there pregnant and all that, would I be here during Endura? you bet I would. I dont understand why personal life should *ever* affect work..."
At this point, the conversation stopped a bit, They heard a rattle around the other end, and then a bit of muted silence.
"uhm,", Samantha cleared her through as the other end came alive again.
"Krish, looks like Nancy is not well, and needs George by her side. George has left to the hospital..."
"..."
"...uh, I guess nothing more needs to be said about the vacations", Samantha paused uneasily. "I leave the decision to you both."
Anubhav was beaming.
"We'll pray for Nancy. Let us know as soon as you hear from them, would you?", Krishna was a confident self.
"Of course", Samantha said smiling, knowing Krishna was in control of the situation.
------------------------------X------------------------------
"Hats off to you, boss! You handled it brilliantly. If it weren't for you, I might have added more trouble. By the way, where do you learn all this soft-skills, Krish? It will take me years to get to where you are...", said Anubhav, mocking a salute as they walked down the corridor.
"oh, con. You are almost there", encouraged Krishna.
"oh, by the way, am sorry for how I behaved to you in the morning... its just that I thought your patience was letting us down... I know better now. Am sorry.".
Krishna paused walking, and turned to face Anubhav.
"Anubhav, patience is a virtue, it really is", that was Krishna, s/o Veeraraghavan talking.
"oh, yes, you are right, but what could I do with somebody like George. Especially on this topic, when just loses his temper, and doesn't listen to anybody else?"
"Its only a matter of time. Let the temper drive the car down the cliff. When you look down from the edge of the cliff, you'll know that the car isn't yours. Neither was the problem, it never was...", said Krishna as he turned and resumed walking down the corridor.
Anubhav stood blinking at Krishna's back, only half-understanding what was just said.
The End.
"Are you going to eat?". That was Vasudha Veeraraghavan.
Vasudha was Veeraraghavan's wife of 32 years. Vasudha and Veeraraghavan were always the envy of neighbors. Veeraraghavan was employed at the `Central Bank of India' for latter 40 years of his life, always avoiding promotions and the transfers that came with it. Raghavan had doted on his wife and only son - Krishna. Raghavan was as proud of Krishna as Krishna was of his father. Vasudha watched them grow older, adoring the two men in her life.
"Dont you want me to...?", shouted back Krishna.
"No... just that its 4pm, and was wondering if you already had lunch somewhere...", Vasudha said, stretching, getting up from her afternoon nap. "Its almost coffee time."
"I'd sure like a coffee...", That was Raghavan.
"Like I didn't know you would... could you wait for 10 minutes more? I got to make dikakshen now..." It was more of a statement than a question.
"Sure, take your time, Vasu. You know, one should enjoy the time at the kitchen, don't hurry yourself... meanwhile, I'll munch on the murukku that Asif-bai brought.. damn, can't believe he can make a brahmin specialty like he was one. Could I help you with the dishes... or would you rather...", Raghavan ranted on endlessly. One could see the love of life and his wife in his words.
"Where the hell is Saridon, Amma? Dont you refill the first-aid box every month?". That was Krishna, interrupting his father's not-so-useful monologue.
Veeraraghavan, looked up from his book through his bifocal, staring at the impatient Krishna. Said nothing.
"It must be right over there, in the horlicks bottle beside the old first-aid box...", Vasudha came out of the kitchen, wiping the sweat of her forehead, with her saree.
"Can you beleive this is Bangalore, its so hot...", she smiled as she passed Raghavan in the hall. Raghavan smiled understandingly and went back to his book.
Crash... rattle... "Dang your reorganization, why don't you label the new containers? AMMA, WHERE ARE YOU?", shouted Krishna as he threw down the strip of medicine in his hand. His heache was splitting now.
"... hold on, hold on, was right on the way... relax, Kicha... Look... here it is..", she said, as she pulled out the strip of saridon from the other lot of medicine.
"Give it to me", said Krishna, as he snatched the strip from her hands.
Raghavan was watching the commotion added...
"Why dont you eat first, that should fix your headache... it must be the sun... eat and relax. Its not good to swallow medicines everytime you have an ache or pain. Use it if you still have the headache after eating... why am telling you all this is...", Raghavan stopped on the tracks, when he noticed that Krishna wasn't paying attention. He went over to the kitchen munching Asif-bai's kai-murukku.
"Be easy on him. He seems to be in some kinda of tension..."
"Okay, Mr.Daddy. Dont tell me how to deal with my son... you better tell him to leave his office woes at office... ", Vasudha was the one short-tempered among the two of them.
Raghavan gently went on into boasting about Asif-bai's culinary skills, as if he didn't hear what she just said. Vasudha turned around from the stove, and gave an angry stare, twisting her lips to either sides of her face, hands on the hips. Raghavan winked at her.
"Are you going to feed me or not?", shouted Krishna from the dining table. Vasudha hurried to serve him.
------------------------------X------------------------------
"Krishna, Mukunda, murare...", sang Raghavan, animatedly, counting his `thala', as he walked into the dining room, munching Asif bai's kai-murukku.
For a second, Krishna thought that Raghavan was calling out to him.
"uh...?"
"Nothing, Kicha, nothing, was just trying to get you to relax..."
"From what?"
"Aren't you feeling tense? Feeling like everybody else is getting on your nerves?
"Ah, dont bother, Appa.Its just something at office..."
Then, there was silence. But Raghavan had caught Krishna's attention. Raghavan was always `the Buddha' of the house. Krishna was proud of his father and his experiences. More so, of the way he shared worldly wisdom with his son.
"You want to say something, dont you?", Krishna broke the ice, but was calmer.
"Krishna, my boy, letting temper take over is like stepping on the gas of a car, thats speeding over a cliff - no brakes."
Krishna thought long and hard. He knew that his father was right. Anger never helped. He could safely deduce from his near-decade industry experience. But today, everybody seemed to be taking turns driving him crazy. First it was George and Anubhav, then it was Samantha. Later it was the trouble with the cyclist - with no brakes.
"What if you see somebody driving a car at you like that, what if I weren't the one stepping on the gas?", asked Krishna, sure that Raghavan would have an answer.
"You just have to move out of the car's way. Now, how difficult is that?"
"..."
"Its only a matter of time. Let the temper drive the car down the cliff. When you look down from the edge of the cliff, you'll know that the car isn't yours. Neither was the problem, it never was...", Raghavan had deftly linked the metaphor with `the problem'.
"Patience is a virtue, it really is", Raghavan patted his son on the back, and left him to contemplate.
------------------------------X------------------------------
Anubhav didn't say a word, since he walked into the room. Krishna dialed the number to the US office on the speaker phone, as the clock stuck 11 - PM of course.
"Hello", That was Samantha.
"Samantha, Krishna here. Anubhav is here with me..."
"Hi people", Samantha and George shouted in chorus from the other end.
"Hi...", Anubhav chirped in, not so interestedly.
The rest of the conversation wouldn't interest the readers as much it would George. Suffice to say George took over after the status discussion.
"Ram and Nitin must stay with us to get us to Endura... They are great resources!". George made Ram sound like RAM - as in Random Access Memory, and Nitin sound more like a tin-box.
"George, it has been a long time since they both visited their families. Moreover, Anubhav tells me that we are comfortably placed to reach Endura.", Krishna defended.
"Nah, not again, I do not get this point of `visiting family' and `friend's marriage'. How long would they take anyway? We could get resources who would take lesser days off for a friend's marriage out here".
Krishna touched Anubhav's shoulder and indicated him to keep calm.
"I'll take care, Anubhav. Don't worry", Krishna whispered into Anubhav's ears.
They didn't see Samantha glaring unbelievably at George and shaking her head. Neither did George.
"George, its also Diwali - the christmas of the hindus. The first Diwali after marriage has special importance in the hindu family...", Krishna tried to rationalize.
"@#$%, oops, did I just say that...", continued George in mocking apology, "Even today, I had to take Nancy to the doc before I arrived here. Didn't I make it, sharp at 10.30 AM? You folks dialed in 7 minutes late. You guys should try to be more professional...", George continued the rant, in spite of Samantha.
Anubhav was near the edge of his seat, only passified by Krishna who promised to handle the situation. But Krishna wasn't talking.
George had by now crossed the limits of social and professional behavior - indian and american.
Unknown to Krishna and Anubhav, Samantha tried to interfere, but George was unstoppable..
"Sssh!..dont...", whispered Krishna as he motioned to Anubhav, with a finger on his mouth. But Anubhav was about to explode.
"My wife is out there pregnant and all that, would I be here during Endura? you bet I would. I dont understand why personal life should *ever* affect work..."
At this point, the conversation stopped a bit, They heard a rattle around the other end, and then a bit of muted silence.
"uhm,", Samantha cleared her through as the other end came alive again.
"Krish, looks like Nancy is not well, and needs George by her side. George has left to the hospital..."
"..."
"...uh, I guess nothing more needs to be said about the vacations", Samantha paused uneasily. "I leave the decision to you both."
Anubhav was beaming.
"We'll pray for Nancy. Let us know as soon as you hear from them, would you?", Krishna was a confident self.
"Of course", Samantha said smiling, knowing Krishna was in control of the situation.
------------------------------X------------------------------
"Hats off to you, boss! You handled it brilliantly. If it weren't for you, I might have added more trouble. By the way, where do you learn all this soft-skills, Krish? It will take me years to get to where you are...", said Anubhav, mocking a salute as they walked down the corridor.
"oh, con. You are almost there", encouraged Krishna.
"oh, by the way, am sorry for how I behaved to you in the morning... its just that I thought your patience was letting us down... I know better now. Am sorry.".
Krishna paused walking, and turned to face Anubhav.
"Anubhav, patience is a virtue, it really is", that was Krishna, s/o Veeraraghavan talking.
"oh, yes, you are right, but what could I do with somebody like George. Especially on this topic, when just loses his temper, and doesn't listen to anybody else?"
"Its only a matter of time. Let the temper drive the car down the cliff. When you look down from the edge of the cliff, you'll know that the car isn't yours. Neither was the problem, it never was...", said Krishna as he turned and resumed walking down the corridor.
Anubhav stood blinking at Krishna's back, only half-understanding what was just said.
The End.
Wednesday, May 10, 2006
Patience is a virtue - Part I
Krishnamurthy Veeraraghavan deftly avoided hitting a jay-walking pedestrian on the overcrowded Bangalore road. He managed that by steering his Hyndai Santro (Hypothecated to the State Bank of India, Rajaji Nagar Branch, Bangalore) sharply to the right. That got him straight in the way of a over speeding cyclist riding on the middle of the road. The cyclist had also, among other poverty ridden tales, been unable to buy a new pair of brake-shoes for his bicycle for the last two months. But did that deter him from driving on the middle of the dangerous Bowring Road? You got that right. NO. He was the proud owner of a cycle - hypothecated to nobody.
Bang, Clash, Cling. The last one was the cycle's rusted bell hitting the windshield of Krishna's car.
A furious Krishna jarred the door open. In the process, pushed the cyclist, precariously balancing his cycle with only his thumb touching the road, down on the other side of the road.
Screech! That was the BTS bus veering over to avoid the fallen cyclist. Well, this bus had a brand new brake shoe - TVS Brake Lining, Mfg date: May, 2001. Never used.
"aiyee... @#$#@nda maga... " That was the bus driver who never used the brake - TVS Brake Lining, Mfg date: May 2001.
After a prolonged road rage with the cyclist - who kept blinking at whatever happened, Krishna managed to cajole the traffic policeman into believing it was the cyclist's fault.
"aree %&^%*^E#nda maga, edhu enu cycl-na, illa circus kadi aaa? brake ill, bell illa... nada stationigae...", and slapped the cyclist on the head - not so affectionately.
Nobody noticed that the cyclist was shaking from the near death experience of the veering BTS bus.
Did we mention that this incident didn't help improve the traffic condition of Bangalore, even a little.
------------------------------X------------------------------
Glad that he had the situation worked out in his favour, Krishnamurthy played "Karma chameleon" as he slid his Santro from that chaos to another.
Krishnamurthy worked for Klandisoft. Incorporated in the USA, Klandisoft had opened an offshore development center in Bangalore to cut costs - and in the process cut cruelly short, the careers of many of its employees in the USA. Krishnamurthy, an Engineering graduate from one of the many sprawling factories, er... colleges of engineering in the country, was currently leading the Bangalore center.
With 25 employees working for him (`under him' in India-talk), he managed to bring out features and bug fixes to Klandisoft's product as best as any manager could. This didn't go unnoticed by Samantha. Samantha Beudolf was Krishna's boss working out of the Redwood City, US office. Samantha had been able to motivate and get the employees from both countries connected and contributed greatly to the success of Klandisoft's India office - Klandisoft software India pvt. limited.
Together in the last two years, Samantha and Krishna had noticed a lot of different flavors of English tossed across by both sides over the phone and mails.
"Hi, this is Madan Sreenivasan"
"sorry, could you say your name again..."
"Two syllables.. `Ma' - as in mom, `then' as in now-and-then"
"I just saw your email. Your name is Ma-daan sss-rey-nie-va-saan. Be proud of it, say it loud and clear.", that was the soft-skill equipped Terrie.
"er, um, Thanks. But my name is pronounced `Madan Sreenivasan' and not the way you just said."
"sorry, could you say your name again..."
"I'll be taking today off, as am feeling sick"
"Well, you are", chuckle, chuckle.
More often than not, it was the side who used the mother-tongue which got the psychological one-up. But the team had managed to glue and produce astounding results over the last couple of years. But of late, there was trouble brewing. Many programmers in India, were complaining about the way George had been dealing with them.
George 'patriot' Grover was a republican with strongly misplaced US values and personal ideals. He was all-out against offshoring jobs for monetary gain, and his criticism had been really sharp and could be felt in the workplace. This was felt painfully at office, especially after his wife was let go by her employer, during her pregnancy for lack of Medicare - George blamed it on offshoring. Nancy Grover was 8 months pregnant.
Today was not a good day for Krishna. Earlier in the day, Krishna had walked over to Anubhav's place to discuss about the next deadline for Anubhav's project.
"Su che... nai..well, talk to you later...", that was Anubhav Patil closing his conversation with someone in his family, Calling from Vadodra.
Anubhav looked up at Krishna, and shrugged. "Krish, We can reach the endura milestone comfortably. I only wish George doesn't keep insisting that both Ram and Nitin cancel their vacations. Both of them have worked hard and deserve their vacations. They are getting sick of George's comments about their `lack of responsibility'."
"But don't you think we would be comfortable with them around during the deadline, am sure George means well.", That was Krishna defending George.
"We are well on our way to meet the dates, Krish. Plus Ram and Nitin are newly weds. You know what that means..?!", continued Anubhav, "Its not fair to do this to them... We'll only end up losing them, considering the job market thats hot for good people."
"I will talk to Samantha again, but for now, tell them that their vacations stand canceled."
"Wonder when you'll straighten your spine, put your foot down and refuse those ... ", Anubhav's voice was in a whisper when he said that, and turned his back to Krishna. Krishna stood staring unbelievingly at Anubhav's back. Krishna knew that Anubhav was right, but that didn't stop his anger brimming over. He could feel his Blood Pressure rise, giving him a sharp one-sided headache.
"Well, don't worry about him, he just ranting. He's real nice otherwise...", Samantha over the phone.
"I know, Samantha, but he should learn to criticize positively, without bringing his personal opinions into the conversation". That was Krishna.
"He means well, I will talk to him. You know he is one of our best engineers. Dot you?"
"Well, I just wish he didn't drive the `other' good engineers crazy."
"..."
"Samantha... what am saying is that it is difficult to keep people here motivated amidst such fury of personal attacks, especially since George is a good engineer, and is present in most of the meetings".
"Krishna don't get me wrong, but you need to have control over your employees out there..."
Krishna could hardly focus on the rest of the conversation. The headache had spread to both sides, by now.
- To be continued...
Bang, Clash, Cling. The last one was the cycle's rusted bell hitting the windshield of Krishna's car.
A furious Krishna jarred the door open. In the process, pushed the cyclist, precariously balancing his cycle with only his thumb touching the road, down on the other side of the road.
Screech! That was the BTS bus veering over to avoid the fallen cyclist. Well, this bus had a brand new brake shoe - TVS Brake Lining, Mfg date: May, 2001. Never used.
"aiyee... @#$#@nda maga... " That was the bus driver who never used the brake - TVS Brake Lining, Mfg date: May 2001.
After a prolonged road rage with the cyclist - who kept blinking at whatever happened, Krishna managed to cajole the traffic policeman into believing it was the cyclist's fault.
"aree %&^%*^E#nda maga, edhu enu cycl-na, illa circus kadi aaa? brake ill, bell illa... nada stationigae...", and slapped the cyclist on the head - not so affectionately.
Nobody noticed that the cyclist was shaking from the near death experience of the veering BTS bus.
Did we mention that this incident didn't help improve the traffic condition of Bangalore, even a little.
------------------------------X------------------------------
Glad that he had the situation worked out in his favour, Krishnamurthy played "Karma chameleon" as he slid his Santro from that chaos to another.
Krishnamurthy worked for Klandisoft. Incorporated in the USA, Klandisoft had opened an offshore development center in Bangalore to cut costs - and in the process cut cruelly short, the careers of many of its employees in the USA. Krishnamurthy, an Engineering graduate from one of the many sprawling factories, er... colleges of engineering in the country, was currently leading the Bangalore center.
With 25 employees working for him (`under him' in India-talk), he managed to bring out features and bug fixes to Klandisoft's product as best as any manager could. This didn't go unnoticed by Samantha. Samantha Beudolf was Krishna's boss working out of the Redwood City, US office. Samantha had been able to motivate and get the employees from both countries connected and contributed greatly to the success of Klandisoft's India office - Klandisoft software India pvt. limited.
Together in the last two years, Samantha and Krishna had noticed a lot of different flavors of English tossed across by both sides over the phone and mails.
"Hi, this is Madan Sreenivasan"
"sorry, could you say your name again..."
"Two syllables.. `Ma' - as in mom, `then' as in now-and-then"
"I just saw your email. Your name is Ma-daan sss-rey-nie-va-saan. Be proud of it, say it loud and clear.", that was the soft-skill equipped Terrie.
"er, um, Thanks. But my name is pronounced `Madan Sreenivasan' and not the way you just said."
"sorry, could you say your name again..."
"I'll be taking today off, as am feeling sick"
"Well, you are", chuckle, chuckle.
More often than not, it was the side who used the mother-tongue which got the psychological one-up. But the team had managed to glue and produce astounding results over the last couple of years. But of late, there was trouble brewing. Many programmers in India, were complaining about the way George had been dealing with them.
George 'patriot' Grover was a republican with strongly misplaced US values and personal ideals. He was all-out against offshoring jobs for monetary gain, and his criticism had been really sharp and could be felt in the workplace. This was felt painfully at office, especially after his wife was let go by her employer, during her pregnancy for lack of Medicare - George blamed it on offshoring. Nancy Grover was 8 months pregnant.
Today was not a good day for Krishna. Earlier in the day, Krishna had walked over to Anubhav's place to discuss about the next deadline for Anubhav's project.
"Su che... nai..well, talk to you later...", that was Anubhav Patil closing his conversation with someone in his family, Calling from Vadodra.
Anubhav looked up at Krishna, and shrugged. "Krish, We can reach the endura milestone comfortably. I only wish George doesn't keep insisting that both Ram and Nitin cancel their vacations. Both of them have worked hard and deserve their vacations. They are getting sick of George's comments about their `lack of responsibility'."
"But don't you think we would be comfortable with them around during the deadline, am sure George means well.", That was Krishna defending George.
"We are well on our way to meet the dates, Krish. Plus Ram and Nitin are newly weds. You know what that means..?!", continued Anubhav, "Its not fair to do this to them... We'll only end up losing them, considering the job market thats hot for good people."
"I will talk to Samantha again, but for now, tell them that their vacations stand canceled."
"Wonder when you'll straighten your spine, put your foot down and refuse those ... ", Anubhav's voice was in a whisper when he said that, and turned his back to Krishna. Krishna stood staring unbelievingly at Anubhav's back. Krishna knew that Anubhav was right, but that didn't stop his anger brimming over. He could feel his Blood Pressure rise, giving him a sharp one-sided headache.
"Well, don't worry about him, he just ranting. He's real nice otherwise...", Samantha over the phone.
"I know, Samantha, but he should learn to criticize positively, without bringing his personal opinions into the conversation". That was Krishna.
"He means well, I will talk to him. You know he is one of our best engineers. Dot you?"
"Well, I just wish he didn't drive the `other' good engineers crazy."
"..."
"Samantha... what am saying is that it is difficult to keep people here motivated amidst such fury of personal attacks, especially since George is a good engineer, and is present in most of the meetings".
"Krishna don't get me wrong, but you need to have control over your employees out there..."
Krishna could hardly focus on the rest of the conversation. The headache had spread to both sides, by now.
- To be continued...
Thursday, May 04, 2006
Cross Culture
Rangarajan sat at a table in the office canteen, rubbing his palms waiting for the samosa. The samosa that was given to all employees of Karmic Innovators, as evening snacks in a bid to boost employee morale while working late nights. Karmic Innovators, the company which was at the helm of India's IT boom. India's IT boom, which suddenly brought a lot of technology work from countries where Robs and Bobs and Mitachis could afford to buy a watch that could deliver e-mail - for the cost of an... er, samosa. Rangarajan's only culmination of e-mail and samosa would be at his office.
Ranga sat contemplating how to break the news to Subbu. Subbu's name had been recently added to the list of people to be laid-off by Karmic. Just as Karmic had been a leader in bringing tech jobs to India, so was it the leader in being lean, and the recent downturn of economy worldwide had put presssure on the profits of the company.
Rangarajan was Subbu's manager, and was tasked with breaking the news. The terms of termination would follow later. But to Ranga, all this was new. Subbu sat there talking about the recent changes he had made to the software for mobile phones.
"That damn vibrate mode gets triggered even without pressing the trigger button. Takei-san is going to have a fit - literally, when he starts using the phone."
Takei-san was Kyojiro Takei - a manager from Matsui Electronics, for whom Subbu's team was the vendor.
"Well, what happened to the english keyboard for that model... are you sure you pressed the right button? Where is the translator guy... whats his name? Anil?"
"Anil is missing for the last two days... Dude got engine-trouble in his car a couple of days back, and hasnt turned up since! Thats why I tell Jaya, never go in for a second-hand car."
Jaya was Subbu's wife. The marriage was recent, and the newly-weds had to shell out a heavy party to Subbu's team on account of the happiness. Unable to converse nonchalantly anymore, Rangarajan decided to break the news.
"Subbu you know, you dont have to worry about phone anymore.."
"Why? Did you get more freshers to handle the screen graphics?"
"No, worse..."
"Did the project get scraped?"
"uh.."
"I knew that %#$ Takei has been looking at a cheaper company... Is that what you were trying to tell me? huh? I knew about it already. Renuka was already hinting at that sometime back... I was kind of expecting it... anyways..."
Subbu got up and sucked his thumb clean of all the sambar. He wasnt using the spoon which came with the dish. The caterers had to clean it again anyways.
"But, Subbu..."
"Ranga, dont worry... we'll get a better project... anyways, catch you later..."
And he was gone.
"...and did you know you suckers cost me 22K on that party that you guys squeezed out of me?" That was Subbu on the way back from the hand-wash to the staircase.
Ranga sat watching the hot samosa that just got delivered.
*----------*----------*
Renuka sat staring unbeleivingly at Ranga.
"If you cant tell that useless tramp, I will let him know how productive his code was...", Renuka continuted, "For all the simple stuff he has been churning out as work, we could have saved money, by assigning a fresher to do the work.."
"But we knew he was new to this technology. We decided to try him out. And its not like he is not trying..."
"...blah...blah...blah", mocked Renuka.
"We talked about this already. Nobody else in your team...", her voice trailed.
"But... I... er... he just got married... poor guy, we squeezed an expensive party on him just a week back... now to say that he has lost his job..."
"But, Ranga... You have to understand. The management has its targets. We need to get rid of the bottom-5 right away."
Bottom-5. That was the name used to denote the list of employeess that Karmic managers thought were the least talented 5% of the workforce.
"hrm... but we should be calling it 'lay-off' and stop pretending like we are letting go of incapable employees. We should let the world know that we cant afford him anymore."
"Look here, Ranga. As a manager, your job is to help the management with its goals. At your level you do not get to comment about management policies. If you mix personal feelings with professional life, Karmic will find someone to let you know that you fall in the bottom-5 of managers...heh heh heh..."
Renuka Gupta, the perfect manager of personal and professional life, sat giggling at her own joke.
"OK", Ranga said, breaking the laughter, "I will arrange a meeting with him to let him know."
"Good... and stand up as a professional manager."
"...And by the way..." Renuka continued, "You know we are letting Anubhav go, right? Today is his last date. We decided to merge Anubhav's team with yours, so you are the manager for both teams starting tomorrow."
Ranga straightened up with pride, and spilled a generous smile on his face.
"Thank you Renuka. Thank you. I will do my best... Thanks for the confide...", words trailed as he shook his hand alone in anticipation.
Renuka's eyes went to the computer without acknowledging his joy, as if she just announced that she would be having lunch alone - as a matter of factly.
"Maybe that is how one should handle official news... with no personal touch. I should learn from her. After all, she has been in the US for 7 years...", thought Ranga, and he collected his papers from Renuka's desk.
Ranga's ego flew high, but one only saw a drooped head as he left Renuka's office.
*----------*----------*
Subbu couldnt hide his agony when Ranga broke the news to him - matter of factly.
"But why couldn't you at least drop a hint about it. I could have looked out...". Subbu was near tears.
"Its a management policy.", Ranga said loooking at his computer monitor.
*----------*----------*
Two months later, Renuka came by Ranga's desk, and sat comfortably on Ranga's desk.
The last two months had been good for Ranga. A new team, and a new project tasked under him, he looked all set for his next climb up the corporate ladder. So, had the training he had attended indicated.
"You are here because Karmic thinks its future is you. YOU.", the trainer had said pointing to Ranga.
His short trip to Michinaso, Japan had been good, and the project he clinched made him a favorite with the management. Life started looking up.
Renuka's ways with Ranga had changed too. She had started handing down more important tasks. He was looked
up as the successor to Renuka more and more. Her trusted lieutenant, confidante and emissary.
"You know, Takei-san has been asking for a india-manager from Matsui Electronics. In effect he wants a Matsui manager to manage the projects here. What do you think?"
That effectively meant that Ranga had to report to two managers. A prospect Ranga didnt like too much.
"Cultchur, Takei-san. Cultchur problem desu", Ranga explained in a mix of english and japanese, over the telephone later.
"ah, I see... wakarimastha, wakarimastha...hmmmmmmmmmm", stretched the japanese manager, understanding the concerns of his indian team. For him, the Karmic team was no longer vendors. They were 'family'. He was saddened by the recent decision of Karmic to let a slew of people from his team go.
"so, so... I undershsthand...", he continued in a katakana accent, "tho, I...discuss with... with... Yui-san. Yui-san, abouth this. Sank-You", and profusely 'Sank-you'ed the team till they agreed, over the crackling telephone line.
"Sank-You, Sank-You", Renuka mocked Takei-san, shaking hands with Ranga, after the call. Ranga smiled thinking of his change of fortunes over the past two months.
*----------*----------*
A month and several meetings later, a representative from Mitsui Electronics, an "Indo-jin by origin" - as per Takei-san, had arrived at the Karmic campus. Renuka and Ranga were to meet with him, along with the management. As Ranga struggled with the powerpoint presentations, Renuka was busy arranging an evening high-tea for the visitor.
The meeting had been scheduled for 10 am. Renuka and Ranga were unusually dressed in formal clothing, as they entered the room, where some members of the management, and the representative from Matsui Electronics had already gathered.
"Mr. Subramaniyam Doddala", whispered the HR manager, and skillfully pointed to the representative with her eyebrows. The man was short and dressed in suit. Hiding behind the laptop screen, he was typing furiously at the keyboard with atmost ease.
"Ohayo, Subramaniyam-san, Watashi no Renuka desu, Ano wa Ranga-san desu", said Renuka, offering her hand.
"Please call me Subbu-san. We know each other already, so lets cut the chit-chat and discuss about the vibrator feature for the M-series.", said Subbu-san, alias Subbu, without looking up from the screen.
*----------*----------*
Ranga sat contemplating how to break the news to Subbu. Subbu's name had been recently added to the list of people to be laid-off by Karmic. Just as Karmic had been a leader in bringing tech jobs to India, so was it the leader in being lean, and the recent downturn of economy worldwide had put presssure on the profits of the company.
Rangarajan was Subbu's manager, and was tasked with breaking the news. The terms of termination would follow later. But to Ranga, all this was new. Subbu sat there talking about the recent changes he had made to the software for mobile phones.
"That damn vibrate mode gets triggered even without pressing the trigger button. Takei-san is going to have a fit - literally, when he starts using the phone."
Takei-san was Kyojiro Takei - a manager from Matsui Electronics, for whom Subbu's team was the vendor.
"Well, what happened to the english keyboard for that model... are you sure you pressed the right button? Where is the translator guy... whats his name? Anil?"
"Anil is missing for the last two days... Dude got engine-trouble in his car a couple of days back, and hasnt turned up since! Thats why I tell Jaya, never go in for a second-hand car."
Jaya was Subbu's wife. The marriage was recent, and the newly-weds had to shell out a heavy party to Subbu's team on account of the happiness. Unable to converse nonchalantly anymore, Rangarajan decided to break the news.
"Subbu you know, you dont have to worry about phone anymore.."
"Why? Did you get more freshers to handle the screen graphics?"
"No, worse..."
"Did the project get scraped?"
"uh.."
"I knew that %#$ Takei has been looking at a cheaper company... Is that what you were trying to tell me? huh? I knew about it already. Renuka was already hinting at that sometime back... I was kind of expecting it... anyways..."
Subbu got up and sucked his thumb clean of all the sambar. He wasnt using the spoon which came with the dish. The caterers had to clean it again anyways.
"But, Subbu..."
"Ranga, dont worry... we'll get a better project... anyways, catch you later..."
And he was gone.
"...and did you know you suckers cost me 22K on that party that you guys squeezed out of me?" That was Subbu on the way back from the hand-wash to the staircase.
Ranga sat watching the hot samosa that just got delivered.
*----------*----------*
Renuka sat staring unbeleivingly at Ranga.
"If you cant tell that useless tramp, I will let him know how productive his code was...", Renuka continuted, "For all the simple stuff he has been churning out as work, we could have saved money, by assigning a fresher to do the work.."
"But we knew he was new to this technology. We decided to try him out. And its not like he is not trying..."
"...blah...blah...blah", mocked Renuka.
"We talked about this already. Nobody else in your team...", her voice trailed.
"But... I... er... he just got married... poor guy, we squeezed an expensive party on him just a week back... now to say that he has lost his job..."
"But, Ranga... You have to understand. The management has its targets. We need to get rid of the bottom-5 right away."
Bottom-5. That was the name used to denote the list of employeess that Karmic managers thought were the least talented 5% of the workforce.
"hrm... but we should be calling it 'lay-off' and stop pretending like we are letting go of incapable employees. We should let the world know that we cant afford him anymore."
"Look here, Ranga. As a manager, your job is to help the management with its goals. At your level you do not get to comment about management policies. If you mix personal feelings with professional life, Karmic will find someone to let you know that you fall in the bottom-5 of managers...heh heh heh..."
Renuka Gupta, the perfect manager of personal and professional life, sat giggling at her own joke.
"OK", Ranga said, breaking the laughter, "I will arrange a meeting with him to let him know."
"Good... and stand up as a professional manager."
"...And by the way..." Renuka continued, "You know we are letting Anubhav go, right? Today is his last date. We decided to merge Anubhav's team with yours, so you are the manager for both teams starting tomorrow."
Ranga straightened up with pride, and spilled a generous smile on his face.
"Thank you Renuka. Thank you. I will do my best... Thanks for the confide...", words trailed as he shook his hand alone in anticipation.
Renuka's eyes went to the computer without acknowledging his joy, as if she just announced that she would be having lunch alone - as a matter of factly.
"Maybe that is how one should handle official news... with no personal touch. I should learn from her. After all, she has been in the US for 7 years...", thought Ranga, and he collected his papers from Renuka's desk.
Ranga's ego flew high, but one only saw a drooped head as he left Renuka's office.
*----------*----------*
Subbu couldnt hide his agony when Ranga broke the news to him - matter of factly.
"But why couldn't you at least drop a hint about it. I could have looked out...". Subbu was near tears.
"Its a management policy.", Ranga said loooking at his computer monitor.
*----------*----------*
Two months later, Renuka came by Ranga's desk, and sat comfortably on Ranga's desk.
The last two months had been good for Ranga. A new team, and a new project tasked under him, he looked all set for his next climb up the corporate ladder. So, had the training he had attended indicated.
"You are here because Karmic thinks its future is you. YOU.", the trainer had said pointing to Ranga.
His short trip to Michinaso, Japan had been good, and the project he clinched made him a favorite with the management. Life started looking up.
Renuka's ways with Ranga had changed too. She had started handing down more important tasks. He was looked
up as the successor to Renuka more and more. Her trusted lieutenant, confidante and emissary.
"You know, Takei-san has been asking for a india-manager from Matsui Electronics. In effect he wants a Matsui manager to manage the projects here. What do you think?"
That effectively meant that Ranga had to report to two managers. A prospect Ranga didnt like too much.
"Cultchur, Takei-san. Cultchur problem desu", Ranga explained in a mix of english and japanese, over the telephone later.
"ah, I see... wakarimastha, wakarimastha...hmmmmmmmmmm", stretched the japanese manager, understanding the concerns of his indian team. For him, the Karmic team was no longer vendors. They were 'family'. He was saddened by the recent decision of Karmic to let a slew of people from his team go.
"so, so... I undershsthand...", he continued in a katakana accent, "tho, I...discuss with... with... Yui-san. Yui-san, abouth this. Sank-You", and profusely 'Sank-you'ed the team till they agreed, over the crackling telephone line.
"Sank-You, Sank-You", Renuka mocked Takei-san, shaking hands with Ranga, after the call. Ranga smiled thinking of his change of fortunes over the past two months.
*----------*----------*
A month and several meetings later, a representative from Mitsui Electronics, an "Indo-jin by origin" - as per Takei-san, had arrived at the Karmic campus. Renuka and Ranga were to meet with him, along with the management. As Ranga struggled with the powerpoint presentations, Renuka was busy arranging an evening high-tea for the visitor.
The meeting had been scheduled for 10 am. Renuka and Ranga were unusually dressed in formal clothing, as they entered the room, where some members of the management, and the representative from Matsui Electronics had already gathered.
"Mr. Subramaniyam Doddala", whispered the HR manager, and skillfully pointed to the representative with her eyebrows. The man was short and dressed in suit. Hiding behind the laptop screen, he was typing furiously at the keyboard with atmost ease.
"Ohayo, Subramaniyam-san, Watashi no Renuka desu, Ano wa Ranga-san desu", said Renuka, offering her hand.
"Please call me Subbu-san. We know each other already, so lets cut the chit-chat and discuss about the vibrator feature for the M-series.", said Subbu-san, alias Subbu, without looking up from the screen.
*----------*----------*
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