Vivek Pradhan was not a happy man. Even the plush comfort of the
air-conditioned compartment of the Shatabdi express could not cool his
frayed nerves. He was the Project Manager and still not entitled to air
travel. It was not the prestige he sought, he had tried to reason with the
admin person, it was the savings in time. As PM, he had so many things to
do. He opened his case and took out the laptop, determined to put the time
to some good use.
"Are you from the software industry sir," the man beside him was staring
appreciatively at the laptop.
Vivek glanced briefly and mumbled in affirmation, handling the laptop now
with exaggerated care and importance as if it were an expensive car.
"You people have brought so much advancement to the country sir. Today
everything is getting computerized. "
"Thanks," smiled Vivek, turning around to give the man a look.
He always found it difficult to resist appreciation. The man was young and
stocky like a sportsman. He looked simple and strangely out of place in that
little lap of luxury like a small town boy in a prep school. He probably was
a railway sportsman making the most of his free traveling pass.
"You people always amaze me," the man continued, "You sit in an office and
write something on a computer and it does so many big things outside."
Vivek smiled deprecatingly. Naivety demanded reasoning not anger. "It is not
as simple as that my friend. It is not just a question of writing a few
lines. There is a lot of process that goes behind it." For a moment, he was
tempted to explain the entire Software Development Lifecycle but restrained
himself to a single statement. "It is complex, very complex."
"It has to be. No wonder you people are so highly paid," came the reply.
This was not turning out as Vivek had thought. A hint of belligerence came
into his so far affable, persuasive tone.
"Everyone just sees the money. No one sees the amount of hard work we have
to put in.Indians have such a narrow concept of hard work. Just because we
sit in an air-conditioned office does not mean our brows do not sweat. You
exercise the muscle; we exercise the mind and believe me that is no less
taxing."
He had the man where he wanted him and it was time to drive home the point.
"Let me give you an example. Take this train. The entire railway reservation
system is computerized. You can book a train ticket between any two stations
from any of the hundreds of computerized booking centres across the country.
Thousands of transactions accessing a single database, at a time
concurrency; data integrity, locking, data security. Do you understand
the complexity in designing and coding such a system?"
The man was stuck with amazement, like a child at a planetarium. This was
something big and beyond his imagination. "You design and code such things."
"I used to," Vivek paused for effect, "But now I am the Project Manager,"
"Oh!" sighed the man, as if the storm had passed over, "so your life is easy
now."
It was like being told the fire was better than the frying pan. The man had
to be given a feel of the heat.
"Oh come on, does life ever get easy as you go up the ladder. Responsibility
only brings more work. Design and coding! That is the easier part. Now I do
not do it, but I am responsible for it and believe me, that is far more
stressful. My job is to get the work done in time and with the highest
quality. To tell you about the pressures, there is the customer
at one end always changing his requirements, the user wanting something else
and your boss always expecting you to have finished it yesterday."
Vivek paused in his diatribe, his belligerence fading with self-realisation.
What he had said, was not merely the outburst of a wronged man, it was the
truth. And one need not get angry while defending the truth. "My friend," he
concluded triumphantly, "you don't know what it is to be in the line of
fire."
The man sat back in his chair, his eyes closed as if in realization. When he
spoke after sometime, it was with a calm certainty that surprised Vivek.
"I know sir, I know what it is to be in the line of fire," He was staring
blankly as if no passenger, no train existed, just a vast expanse of time.
"There were 30 of us when we were ordered to capture Point 4875 in the cover
of the night. The enemy was firing from the top. There was no knowing where
the next bullet was going to come from and for whom. In the morning when we
finally hoisted the tricolour at the top only 4 of us were alive."
"You are a..."
"I am Subedar Sushant from the 13 J&K Rifles on duty at Peak 4875 in Kargil.
They tell me I have completed my term and can opt for a land assignment. But
tell me sir, can one give up duty just because it makes life easier. On the
dawn of that capture, one of my colleagues lay injured in the snow, open to
enemy fire while we were hiding behind a bunker. It was my job to go and
fetch that soldier to safety."
"But my captain refused me permission and went ahead himself. He said that
the first pledge he had taken as a Gentleman Cadet was to put the safety and
welfare of the nation foremost followed by the safety and welfare of the men
he commanded."
"His own personal safety came last, always and every time. He was killed as
he shielded that soldier into the bunker. Every morning now, as I stand
guard I can see him taking all those bullets, which were actually meant for
me. I know sir, I know what it is to be in the line of fire."
Vivek looked at him in disbelief not sure of his reply. Abruptly he switched
off the laptop. It seemed trivial, even insulting to edit a word document in
the presence of a man for whom valour and duty was a daily part of life; a
valour and sense of duty which he had so far attributed only to epical
heroes.
The train slowed down as it pulled into the station and Subedar Sushant
picked up his bags to alight.
"It was nice meeting you sir."
Vivek fumbled with the handshake. This hand had climbed mountains, pressed
the trigger, and hoisted the tricolour.
PS: The incident he narrates during the capture of Peak 4875 is a true-life
incident during the Kargil war. Capt. Batra sacrificed his life while trying
to save one of the men he commanded, as victory was within sight. For this
and his various other acts of bravery he was awarded the Param Vir Chakra
the nation's highest military award.*
Live humbly, there are great people around us, let us learn !
air-conditioned compartment of the Shatabdi express could not cool his
frayed nerves. He was the Project Manager and still not entitled to air
travel. It was not the prestige he sought, he had tried to reason with the
admin person, it was the savings in time. As PM, he had so many things to
do. He opened his case and took out the laptop, determined to put the time
to some good use.
"Are you from the software industry sir," the man beside him was staring
appreciatively at the laptop.
Vivek glanced briefly and mumbled in affirmation, handling the laptop now
with exaggerated care and importance as if it were an expensive car.
"You people have brought so much advancement to the country sir. Today
everything is getting computerized. "
"Thanks," smiled Vivek, turning around to give the man a look.
He always found it difficult to resist appreciation. The man was young and
stocky like a sportsman. He looked simple and strangely out of place in that
little lap of luxury like a small town boy in a prep school. He probably was
a railway sportsman making the most of his free traveling pass.
"You people always amaze me," the man continued, "You sit in an office and
write something on a computer and it does so many big things outside."
Vivek smiled deprecatingly. Naivety demanded reasoning not anger. "It is not
as simple as that my friend. It is not just a question of writing a few
lines. There is a lot of process that goes behind it." For a moment, he was
tempted to explain the entire Software Development Lifecycle but restrained
himself to a single statement. "It is complex, very complex."
"It has to be. No wonder you people are so highly paid," came the reply.
This was not turning out as Vivek had thought. A hint of belligerence came
into his so far affable, persuasive tone.
"Everyone just sees the money. No one sees the amount of hard work we have
to put in.Indians have such a narrow concept of hard work. Just because we
sit in an air-conditioned office does not mean our brows do not sweat. You
exercise the muscle; we exercise the mind and believe me that is no less
taxing."
He had the man where he wanted him and it was time to drive home the point.
"Let me give you an example. Take this train. The entire railway reservation
system is computerized. You can book a train ticket between any two stations
from any of the hundreds of computerized booking centres across the country.
Thousands of transactions accessing a single database, at a time
concurrency; data integrity, locking, data security. Do you understand
the complexity in designing and coding such a system?"
The man was stuck with amazement, like a child at a planetarium. This was
something big and beyond his imagination. "You design and code such things."
"I used to," Vivek paused for effect, "But now I am the Project Manager,"
"Oh!" sighed the man, as if the storm had passed over, "so your life is easy
now."
It was like being told the fire was better than the frying pan. The man had
to be given a feel of the heat.
"Oh come on, does life ever get easy as you go up the ladder. Responsibility
only brings more work. Design and coding! That is the easier part. Now I do
not do it, but I am responsible for it and believe me, that is far more
stressful. My job is to get the work done in time and with the highest
quality. To tell you about the pressures, there is the customer
at one end always changing his requirements, the user wanting something else
and your boss always expecting you to have finished it yesterday."
Vivek paused in his diatribe, his belligerence fading with self-realisation.
What he had said, was not merely the outburst of a wronged man, it was the
truth. And one need not get angry while defending the truth. "My friend," he
concluded triumphantly, "you don't know what it is to be in the line of
fire."
The man sat back in his chair, his eyes closed as if in realization. When he
spoke after sometime, it was with a calm certainty that surprised Vivek.
"I know sir, I know what it is to be in the line of fire," He was staring
blankly as if no passenger, no train existed, just a vast expanse of time.
"There were 30 of us when we were ordered to capture Point 4875 in the cover
of the night. The enemy was firing from the top. There was no knowing where
the next bullet was going to come from and for whom. In the morning when we
finally hoisted the tricolour at the top only 4 of us were alive."
"You are a..."
"I am Subedar Sushant from the 13 J&K Rifles on duty at Peak 4875 in Kargil.
They tell me I have completed my term and can opt for a land assignment. But
tell me sir, can one give up duty just because it makes life easier. On the
dawn of that capture, one of my colleagues lay injured in the snow, open to
enemy fire while we were hiding behind a bunker. It was my job to go and
fetch that soldier to safety."
"But my captain refused me permission and went ahead himself. He said that
the first pledge he had taken as a Gentleman Cadet was to put the safety and
welfare of the nation foremost followed by the safety and welfare of the men
he commanded."
"His own personal safety came last, always and every time. He was killed as
he shielded that soldier into the bunker. Every morning now, as I stand
guard I can see him taking all those bullets, which were actually meant for
me. I know sir, I know what it is to be in the line of fire."
Vivek looked at him in disbelief not sure of his reply. Abruptly he switched
off the laptop. It seemed trivial, even insulting to edit a word document in
the presence of a man for whom valour and duty was a daily part of life; a
valour and sense of duty which he had so far attributed only to epical
heroes.
The train slowed down as it pulled into the station and Subedar Sushant
picked up his bags to alight.
"It was nice meeting you sir."
Vivek fumbled with the handshake. This hand had climbed mountains, pressed
the trigger, and hoisted the tricolour.
PS: The incident he narrates during the capture of Peak 4875 is a true-life
incident during the Kargil war. Capt. Batra sacrificed his life while trying
to save one of the men he commanded, as victory was within sight. For this
and his various other acts of bravery he was awarded the Param Vir Chakra
the nation's highest military award.*
Live humbly, there are great people around us, let us learn !
JAI HIND
Comments
....be humble..for the other
....be humble..for the other might b at a much more respectable position than u...ours we think sometimes is the most toughest job of all...but there is an invisible level of difficulties..we got to learn so much frm others experiences,no matter where we are....
n one more thing dat we can
n one more thing dat we can learn from this blog is...each ones work has got a certain importance....might b an engineer,a doctor....a soldier...the work that anyone of them does is very important...everyone of them improve the quality of our lives...n everyone of dem have equal oppurtunities to serve others...
..n this blog tells one more
..n this blog tells one more thing too.....many like the subedar feel that the pple in the software industry are highly paid for little of their hardwork...but these r the pple who revolutionised the world..if not for dem..we wudnt b this comfortable communicating wid the whole world..
Each man has a role to play
Each man has a role to play. All of us can' go to the boarders and fight for the nation. true. very true.
But the problem does not lie here. the Problem is that some of us or rather most of us feel that Patriotism in it's true self isonly something that is to be related with Sports, Army and Politics. We do not relate our work to the same underlying and most powerful feeling - The Love for the Nation.
What actually happens is that the software engineer forgets that he has some responsibilities to his own society. He or she starts living a life which is centered around personal needs and ambitions. This leads to the distruction of the social order in which the downstricken are extended a helping hand by those who fare well.
The word "charity" is what people prefer to use. the word responsibility.. dies a slow and quiet death..
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