At last - Short Story

It was a fine Sunday evening. I was browsing through the television channels jumping from “Nakka Mukka” song in Sun Music to Rahul Dravid’s double century in Star Cricket to Breaking News in NDTV to some War Film in HBO, hoping at least one of them would distract me. However my mind was constantly thinking about only one thing. Tomorrow my Girl friend, or to put it correctly, my Ex Girl friend would be getting married to that guy, described by her parents as “Nice, Handsome, High Earning Guy of our Caste”. Though I had accepted this would eventually happen, six months earlier, today I couldn’t control my feelings. Sharp pain engulfed my heart.

“Is your Dad there?” – My thoughts were diverted by the voice of our neighbor, who was standing outside the entrance of my house. “Come in Jacob Uncle, I will call my Dad in a second.” – I said trying to come up with a smile that might mask my inner feelings. As my dad came out, welcoming him, I decided to go upstairs, hoping that a walk under the evening sun would make me think about some thing other than her marriage.

As I walked past, Jacob uncle, I felt a tinge of guilt in my mind, as usual; guilt that always haunts me when ever I meet him or his son Stephen. Stephen was one of the ten new students who joined in my class, during eleventh Standard. As I found out, that Stephen’s family, were the new tenant in our near by house, we naturally become friends. We also did few share few commonalities. We both liked Rahul Dravid more than Sachin Tendulkar, loved reading Tamil Magazines, and both of our secret dream was to publish a Best Selling Novel that will also win the Nobel Prize for literature.

Besides these miniscule things, our lives were completely different though. Though my parents were not ultra rich, being their only child resulted in extra luxuries. Be it the Bicycle I needed when I was in Third, Cricket Coaching Class when I was in Seventh, I was always provided with whatever I needed. Stephen, had two elder sisters, and with his Dad always concerned about saving money for their marriage, he had to sacrifice many things, that I took for granted.

It was not only in the materialistic things that he was at a disadvantage. My parents never fought at home, and rarely raised their voices when I was around. On the other hand his house resembled a mini Kurushetara most of the times. Fight between his parents, between his elder sisters, between his mother and eldest sister, and some times fight with the neighbors, over even trivial things, meant he never got some peaceful time to study.

Whenever he comes to my house to study along with me, I would assume that he would feel envious of the easy life of mine compared to his. However I had never even seen a tint of jealousy in his eyes. “Your dad studied hard and worked hard in his earlier days, and you are enjoying its fruits today. I will also study hard and give my kids, life similar to you”, he said one day revealing his true feelings. He wanted to emulate my father and was not resentful of his success.

As our class teacher usually remarked, both of us were equally talented, but Stephen invariably scored more than me, because he put tons more of hard work. I continued to read Tamil Magazines, and enjoy Dravid’s knocks, even in twelfth, but he sacrificed them for “Greater Good”. Both of us wanted to be engineers, however the force of our motive varied. I wanted to be an Engineer, just because my Dad wanted to be one; but he saw being an engineer as a tool to fight his family’s problems.

Public exams and the entrance exams came and went. And the day of results arrived. On seeing the reaction of both of us after getting the result, strangers could be excused, if they felt I had got School First and he flunked. However the truth was that he scored ninety seven marks more than me; though we both know our cut off would not get us a seat in prominent Government Engineering colleges, as our Dads had envisioned. That didn’t bother me much, however that bothered Stephen enough to make him cry for two days.

“They are asking for 2.5 lakhs, the other guy said 2 only, but their college don’t have good placement”, my Dad was discussing with mother about the capitation fee in Private Engineering colleges.

“Why are you trying to get Management seat. He might get a seat through counseling.” –said my mother, and my Dad gave her, “What an ignorant lady she is!” look.

“He will get in some useless college in a useless department for his marks. And after four years, he would be jobless Engineering Graduate. Let us pay some money and get him a seat in good college. He will get placement by the end of third year.”

Meanwhile I was wondering about Stephen. He had gone that day to get an application form from a leading Arts and Science college to do B.Sc Chemistry. “I might get a seat in Private Engineering College seat through counseling, but my dad said that he can’t pay so much. He said if I had wanted to be an Engineer, I should have studied harder, and got a seat in Government College.” I felt guilty that he scored more than me, but I am able to do a course that he won’t be able to do.

“Dad, I’ll rather study B.Sc, than paying so much”, I slowly told my Dad, so that I won’t have to live with the guilty conscious.

“You don’t know about life, son. I will do only what is good for you.” – My dad didn’t even bother to give my request a thought. He just rejected it.

Months rolled by, and we both went for different colleges, myself to a prominent private Engineering college, and Stephen to an Arts and Science College. With me staying in a hostel, we rarely met, and one evening when we came across each other, we had so much to share.

“It seems your college has 100 % placement, and the average salary is 2.6 lakhs per annum. You might even get a new house like your Dad, with in five years you leave the college.” Stephen seemed to have more knowledge about my college than me. I didn’t ask him about the placement record of his college, but his eyes conveyed to me, his thoughts, “When you get a new house, I will continue to live in the rotten house of mine, for no mistake in my part”.

I felt so guilty, that I skipped my dinner, and couldn’t sleep properly for next two days. I always tried to avoid Stephen and his Dad thereafter, and even when I meet them, I lowered my head with a sense of guilt. Next time I met him, was during his sister’s marriage, and he was so very happy then. He had already been placed in a reputed IT concern that had recently started to recruit Arts and Science Graduates too. My guilt seemed to reduce a bit then.

However my guilt resurfaced from the bottom again, when I met him in his next sister’s marriage, couple of years later. By the time, I had also completed my Engineering, and landed a good job in a leading IT company. I began to talk without a feeling of guilt, as I felt that was a thing of past. We were delighted to know that we were both working in same Technology. However he seemed to know more than me, his work seemed to be more complex than what I was doing.

The talk turned around to salary, and as he heard my salary, he just smiled but again his eyes revealed to me the message. “You are earning so much more than me for the same technology, just because you have a better degree. And what more, you didn’t get that better degree also because you studied well.” This time, I skipped dinner, as well as next day’s breakfast, and didn’t sleep properly for three days.

After that day, I never met Stephen. With problems caused due to my Ex Girl friend, I had even forgotten about him, but my guilty feelings resurfaced, as I saw his Dad today. Assuming his Dad would have went back by now, I decided to go down. However he hadn’t left and was only just about to start.

“So you also didn’t tell us about it right.” – Stephen’s Dad asked me.

“About what” - I sounded perplexed.

“About Stephen’s love.” – He said smiling. He, as my parents were under the assumption that I and Stephen were still close buddies as we were during school days. They were not aware, that we don’t even see each other frequently now.

“Stephen is getting married to his girl friend next month.” My dad came to my assistance.

Did Stephen love a girl? And he has also managed to convince his parents, her parents to arrange a marriage for them. What studying hard, Working Hard failed to materialize, Love had materialized.

My guiltiness subsided, and my sharp pain in heart due to my Love Failure seemed to have some how subsided, as I learnt he had at last succeeded where I had failed. It’s good that there is still some thing left in the World beyond Money.

Atonement - Short Story

Atonement => It is the process of showing that one is sorry for having done something wrong, by doing a good deed as a kind of repayment or self punishment. In Tamil, it is called as ‘Parigaram’ or ‘Prayachithham’. In many religious beliefs, it is widely accepted practice that one needs to atone, if he/she had done some thing bad against God.


“This is one of the best Atonement that I have presided over. Here after, the children will receive God’s blessings without any hindrance” - said the short, fat priest with mouth full of artificial smile; he was still counting the hundred rupee notes handed over by my father in law. The children he referred to were I and my wife. We were just married a week ago; and with tons of relatives and temples to visit, we are yet to spend some private time. Today’s quota is this ancient temple built by Cholas, about hundred mile away from our home, to do an atonement, for some unexplained mistake done by Father in Law years ago.

I, to be honest, detested the whole thing, and would not have come if not for my wife’s pleading. First of all, due to new policies that my office had come up with following recent recession, we were allowed to take only two weeks of leave for the marriage. And then to make matters worse, even in those two weeks I couldn’t spend time alone with her in Mauritius or Munnar or even in local Ooty as I had envisioned; I wished I could have been more stubborn and said a strong “No” to this temple Visit

It’s not that I hate temples. Though I’m an agnostic, I love temples, for its aesthetic beauty and its sculptural wonder. I love standing still in front of God in our native village, as our village priest goes through the chanting of Mantras, sincerely believing that God listened to them. Here it was different through. In between his mechanical reciting of mantras, the priest talked about his lunch plans in his mobile, discussed Dhoni’s tactical error in the previous days match against Pakistan, and also shouted in obscene Tamil at some of the devotees.

I don’t understand how my father in law, who was such an educated man, who had read all the scriptures by heart, would believe that God will forgive his mistakes done long ago, due to the Atonement, that he believes, he did today. If at all, his crime rate should have increased in the God’s book, for he encouraged Corruption in Temple, bypassed hundred’s of waiting devotees, and gave hundreds or rupees to a priest for whom a cricketer from Ranchi seemed more important than God.

I held my wife’s hands, as we walked out of the temple. That was the only little thing that can be said at least remotely positive about this trip. She knew I didn’t enjoy this trip. She must have praying all the while that I don’t make my unhappiness too evident in front of her relatives. After we went around the temple once, we sat in the couple of staircases that lead to the “Prasad Counter”. I wished her parents and relatives would at least sit few meters away respecting our privacy. However, as I know would happen, in spite of my wishes, they swarmed us like bee.

They all talked about a “Good Darshan” they got. “Its good to know priests in big temples like this” – My father in law replied with pride, soaking in glory of arranging a “Good Darshan”. I tried to avoid listening to the conversation. My wife also wanted me not to listen to it, as she feared I might retort. I tried to divert my attention by looking at the fellow devotees. A small five year old kid was playing with his parents, and I was wondering, if I would be playing the same games as his parents, few years down the lane.

Suddenly I could see an influx of college students walking past us, all with Chapels in their hand. I have never seen such thing before; people walking with chapels in their hand inside a temple. I looked at them in amazement. “Are they carrying their chapels, inside the temple, because they don’t want to pay two rupees outside to, take care of the chapels? Or is it some form of worship?” I wondered so, but I know it didn’t make sense. There must be a more rational explanation. I looked at my wife in bewilderment, for besides me, she seemed the only rational person in the gang.

She seemed to understand my doubt. Within a week of our marriage, she seemed to understand the meanings of each of my looks. “They have not come inside the temple to worship. They are going to the college on the other side of the temple, and using the roads will take lot of time. So they take the chapels in their hand and go across the temple to reach their destination. This detour saves them time.” This seemed rational enough.


Few minutes of silence followed. Her relatives were consuming Temple Prasadams like anything, even though just an hour earlier, we had lunch. I was admiring the beauty of my wife silently. My mind was dreaming that we were alone in Kulu Manali. My dreams were disrupted my Father in law’s shouting. “They should have been chased out of our country during independence itself. See now they are polluting our temples.” Besides being a business man, he was also the district secretary of the political party that believed India is a sole property of one religion. I wondered, what suddenly provoked his anger.

A Muslim lady (the costumes portrayed her religion), in her middle ages, was walking across the temple. I am sure she was using the temple, as the same way as the college students, to reach her destination quickly. However, she was wearing her chapels, instead of carrying it in her hands, like the college students did. That was what initiated my father in law to suddenly remember what happened more than half a century ago.

This time, I couldn’t control my anger. I wanted to shout at him and say, “Wearing a chapel inside the temple was no sin, compared to encouraging corruption inside the temple”. However I was distracted by my wife as she had got up and walked behind that Muslim lady. She completely detests her father’s party, so I was sure she was not going to pick up a fight with her, for wearing chapel inside the temple.

“Akka (Sister)”, my wife called her.

“Yes ma.” Muslim lady replied and turned around immediately. She was wondering, why a stranger was calling her. The fact that she was inside the Holy place of other religion must have added to her anxiety.

“Akka, you are not supposed to wear chapels inside”. My wife said in her usual, gentle sweet voice.

“Oh! I’m really sorry. I didn’t know that.” She immediately removed the chapels, took it in her hand and began to walk. Her apologetic face clearly conveyed that she had no idea that one is not supposed to wear chapels there. Meanwhile, my father in law decided that it’s time for us also to start, so that we would be able to visit (encourage corruption) in couple more temples, before we could reach the safety of our home.

So we started walking slowly towards the entrance of the temple. I was still worrying about the fact that I was also a partly responsible for encouraging corruption. If God Exists really, then I’m sure He would punish me more for encouraging corruption in his place, than for questioning his existence. And I also wondered about the foolish Atonement that my Father In law did. The whole trip seemed to be a foolish one.

As we are about to exit the temple, the Muslim Lady called my wife. She was standing near a small flower shop, run by an old lady. I walked along with my wife.

“Can you do me a favor”, the Muslim lady asked with bit of embarrassment.

“What you want us to do, Akka” asked my wife.

“Can you give this flower to God” – saying she tried to hand over flower that she had brought for ten rupees to my wife.

My wife was trying how to say No, as we have already visited the temple, and it would take lot of time, to stand in line and visit the God again. Her father had already got into the van, in which we had come. I understood her confusion, but took the flowers from the Muslim lady’s hand.

“Sure. We will give it to God.” I started walking again inside the temple with flower in the hand, without bothering about my wife. My wife followed me, as I expected. I stood at the end of the line where hundred’s of devotees were standing. I was sure this time I will get the “Best Darshan”, and If God was even half as good as what the scriptures say, he would consider this ten rupee atonement of Muslim lady thousand times more than the one My father – In law did.

Suddenly the Trip turned from a foolish one to the most meaningful one I have ever made.

Note: This story was based on the true incident narrated by my friend Padmavathi.

Landline Phones and Friendship

“Hi Subramani, how are you. Bala said you are working in Infosys. How is your work going on? How are your parents and how is your little sister?” – Bala’s dad went on asking questions. It has been long since I had spoken to him. By the way, Bala was my best friend in school.

I started thinking when the last time was, I spoke to Bala’s dad and mum. I couldn’t recall correctly. However I used to speak to either of his parents, whenever I called him to discuss about some thing during our school days. Mostly his mother would pick the phone, and the phone would be handed over to Bala, only after she has spoken to me for some time. By this way, I came to know of his parents, and he also came to know of mine.

Our contact ceased over time, as we both went to college. It’s not that I stopped calling Bala; I still used to call him regularly to chat over variety of topics. Only thing, it’s not only the topics we discussed changed but also the phone we used. We no longer used landlines to talk to each other, we were using our mobiles, and of course our parents never attended call in our mobiles.

Meanwhile, few days ago, I tried calling Bala on his mobile to convey my birthday wishes to him. I was not able to reach him, in spite of making repeated attempts. It felt really bad that I couldn’t wish my friend on his birthday. I was left wondering what to do. It was then I remembered I had his land line number too. And it led to the conversation that I explained in the first paragraph.

After I put down the phone that day, suddenly I felt the urge to search how many of my friend’s land line number’s are stored in my mobile. First I began with my friends in office; those who became my friends either by the virtue of being my project mates or training batch mates. I would have met them first at a point of time, when mobiles were very well and truly integrated into our daily lives.

Unsurprisingly I didn’t have land line numbers of even one of them. And the same way I didn’t know much about any of their parents personally, other than the information’s they themselves have shared with me. Next I started checking for my school friends. I had the landline numbers of each and every one of them. And I have also spoken to the parents of all of them. I know each of them well, and they know about me too.

Now I moved to college friends. It posed a peculiar situation. It had people in both the categories. I had the landline numbers of guys like Siva who became my friends before they had brought their mobiles. And hence I have spoken many times to his mother whenever I called him. On the other hand, there were guys like Sudhagar, who had his mobile when I first came to know about him. As a result in spite of being his close buddy for close to five years now, I’m yet to speak to any of his parents directly, and also every thing I know about his parents were only through what he has shared with me.

Thinking further along the line, I was reminded of this. Even my Dad has few very close friends from his college days/ early office days. Still few years ago, they used to call him on our land line. If I pick up the phone, they used to talk to me for a considerable period of time, enquiring about my studies, future plans and all those stuff. Now thinking back for the past three years, I had rarely spoken to any of my Dad’s friends. I’m sure that it’s no coincidence that we forced our Dad to buy a mobile for himself, three years ago.


I began to wonder how much mobiles have changed our way of communication. No I’m not against mobiles. They help us to communicate to our friends wherever they are, be it in office, crowded bus, or in restaurant with their girl friend. But then don’t they also make sure we communicate only with them? In days of landline whether we liked it or not, we were forced to communicate with our friend’ parents also, and we began to get to know them. Now has the mobile, filtered those additional communications?

“In Western Countries, marriage is between two individuals. Whereas in Eastern countries, it is between two families.”- goes the famous saying. I may sound Old- Fashioned, and traditionalist, but I actually believe even friendship is complete in countries like India, only when they are between families and not individuals; but is not the mobiles changing our friendship to more individualistic levels?

I’m not saying this trend is right or wrong; but these are just honest reflections that went through my mind on the day I could convey my birthday wishes to my friend only because I had his land line number…..

Purpose of GOD (Short Story)

Introducing Him:

He is the lead character of our story; though he is in every way different from the lead characters of our conventional Tamil Cinema. He can’t fight against ten people at a time; he is poor, but he does not love the daughter of a cruel cum rich man; he doesn’t have ten friends, who roam around him making fun of others; and he is working. By the next Independence day, he would have completed twenty six years of his existence on this planet, of which last two years has been spent guarding an ATM centre at night. He landed at this job, after being a driver for two years, the job which he quit after he ran over a baby (though the fault was with the careless mother and not him). Living as one among seven people who share a small room in Guindy, he saves his salary as much as possible and sends them to his old ailing parents living at a small village, located in the middle of Tanjore and Kumbakonam.

Introducing Her:

She is also the lead character of our story, but unlike Him, she shares many of the characteristics of the female lead characters of conventional Tamil Cinema. She is beautiful; and her looks forces opposite sex of all ages to turn around and have a look at her and she is the only daughter of rich adoring parents. However her similarity with Movie Heroines stops there. She is extremely bright, intelligent, independent girl who never agrees with common perceptions. In spite of getting engineering seat in Anna University after twelfth, she declined it and joined BA English Literature. She later did her Post graduation in Mass Media and Journalism, and is working as a freelance Journalist for the past two years. She balances her time between her work, writing a new novel, completing her thesis for the PHD, teaching at a orphanage and taking care of her mother (after her father’s death due to the cardiac arrest the year before).

June 18th 2009, Thursday:

10.30 am: Every day by this time, he goes out to eat his breakfast, and after breakfast he sleeps from 11am to 5pm soundly, so that he can be awake the entire night while guarding the ATM. Unlike some of his colleagues, he doesn’t believe that sleeping after 2am when no one uses the ATM, is ethically right. On this eventual day, as he was returning after eating five idlies, he saw an old lady being almost run over by a Maruti Amni. The driver of the car didn’t even bother to stop. The images of him killing a baby two years ago came to his mind. He decided to make amends for it. He rushed to the rescue of the old lady.

5.30 pm: He was still sitting in the hospital. He had taken the old lady to the near by Government Hospital, and there she was operated upon. The nurses there asked him to trace the where about of the old lady. He tired calling the only mobile number present in the purse of the old lady from the morning. He was unable to reach the concerned person. So he decided to sacrifice the sleep for one day, and be with that old lady until she regains her conscious. The operation was still going on.

6.00 pm: The operation had been completed and she was no longer critical. He was satisfied, and decided to go to work, after the Head Nurse there promised that she will take care of the old lady. He went to his room, slept for two hours and went to his work still feeling sleepy.

11.30 pm: He was sitting in front of the ATM, and his sleepless morning is taking its toll now. The three cup of coffees he had consumed in the past one hour weren’t of much use. He had started to doze off sitting in his chair in front of the ATM.

11.45 pm: She was returning after a long journey. She had gone to cover the opening of the bridge, by the chief minister. She unlike the other Journalists doesn’t go to such meetings just to cover the speeches of important leaders. She normally tries to hit upon some stories that no one else would have any idea about. Today she wished to capture in her cameras some cracks that normally are visible during the opening ceremony itself in many of the bridges. However the contractor seemed to have been honest person, and there were no cracks visible.

On the way back to home, as she came across the ATM, she decided to take money to buy gift for her mother’s birthday tomorrow. However on seeing the security guard of the ATM sleeping, her journalistic mind came to the forefront. She took the photo of the sleeping security guard in front of the ATM and slowly left the place. Earlier that day, she has already taken the photograph of the sleeping Cabinet Minister, as the CM was delivering his long boring speech. There was also another photo of the college students sleeping nicely in the classroom with her. She could already think of apt headline – “When will India awake?” – With these three photos, she could write an interesting article that the editors of the famous newspapers would love to publish.

June 19th 2009, Friday:

2.00 am: On the train to home, she completed her article in her blackberry, and mailed it to the editor of “The Times of India”. She also saw that she had ten missed calls from an unknown number. Some one might have called when she was busy during the meeting. She decided to call him/her in the morning. Just then her mobile ran again. It was the Government Doctor living opposite to her house. Wondering why he is calling her in the midnight, she attended the call. Her replies were as follows: “Hello” ….. “Oh is it so”, “I will be there in half an hour”…. “Please be there till I come”. She immediately rushed to the Government Hospital. In the chaos she forgot about that ten missed calls.


10.00 am: Normally he would have been delighted to see his photo in the newspapers, but having seen his sleeping photo, he knew he had to search for a new job. In his sadness because of job loss, he forgot to enquire about the well being of the old lady he saved the previous day.

If this had been a Tamil Movie:

Some how, She would have found it out that the person who lost his job because of her photograph was the same person who saved her mother. She would have went to apologize to him, and in due course of time, they might have been singing an duet either in Newzland, Australia or any other country, the director wanted to see free of cost.

But In Reality:

After a week or so, she went to the church and praised the Lord for sending an unknown Angel to save her mother. Earlier he had went to the same church to angrily question the God, why He keeps sending him trouble so often, though he has consciously never done harm to any one.

Ending with a message:

In Movies, Hero would be responsible for all the good things and Villain for all the bad things. However in real life, when we can never find out the concrete reasons for the sudden goodness or badness that envelopes us, when it is difficult to find heroes/villains responsible for our happiness/trouble, whom else to blame/praise other than the God?

Indian Software League

This is the story of drastic change my office has underwent for the past two years. Two years ago, my office was in shambles. The Global recession had hit my company too, and there was a talk of job cuts, no promotions, etc. I, myself was not a great worker, who just managed to scrap through in good times. I expected the worst. Then came that surprise decision; our company was taken over by the charismatic leader who had earlier turned the game played by nobles when they had nothing else to do into an million dollar business.

The management change brought about mixture of reactions among the employees. What does he know about software processes was the common talk among the employees; but then we forgot to remember that he knew so little about the game involved in his previous venture too. We thought he can only bring destruction to our company. However there was so little that we could do, and we waited for him to formally take over the company.

“How many Non – Marsians (Marsian is our company name) were involved in each of the projects?” was his first question on the eventual day when he took over the company. “What” our Delivery head was stunned. “Sorry, I didn’t get your question” he mumbled. Our new chairman slowly repeated the same question that our chairman very well heard the last time too. “How could people from other companies work in our projects?” - Our Delivery head never has the habit of giving answers. He always asks another question in response to a question.”

“I want the answer. How many” demanded the new chairman? “None” – said the delivery head. Our Delivery head being forced to answer the question was the first change the new chairman brought to the office, and by the next week, four people from other company were working in each of the project. (And some of them from other company were sitting in bench too).

“How do you allocate software engineers to projects?” – was the question raised by our chairman in next meeting. Our delivery head started explaining the complex method used by our company to randomly allocate people to projects. He listened patiently to it, and then said scrap it. “Here after Software engineers would be allocated to project after bidding by the managers”- said our new chairman. Frenzy bidding took place for some of my colleagues, who were considered, be very smart workers. I was brought (sounds very disgusting to say brought, but then what else to do) for the base price itself, by one of the maintenance project.

Meanwhile many more innovative strategies were used by the new management to boost the financials of the company. Most of the IBU heads were removed and they were replaced by film stars. When asked what they knew about management, our new chairman replied they knew how to motivate people; He was right, and our new IBU head, the famous Tamil actress, gave her affectionate hug if the project was completed in schedule and we never missed our deadlines after that.

Besides the hugs, there were other enterprising rewards too. Person with least number of bugs in his/her code would get to work in a purple computer. Person completing his/her work in quick time would get to work in an orange computer the next day. I never got to work in either of those computers, but then new chairman also appointed cheer girls in each building who would dance once every hour. That made me work doubly harder.

“We found yet another bug in your code” – read the mail that came from my onsite coordinator. Suddenly I turned around and saw our new chairman staring at my computer. I began to sweet and thought of excuses to give to him. However suddenly he shouted “Eureka” and left the place. Few days later, our company struck a deal with mobile company called “OXYGENTEL” and the next day I got following mail from the Onsite Coordinator: “We found another OXYGENTEL bug in your code.” The mail was in sync with the HR orders we received the day before regarding Email etiquettes.

Meanwhile, though there were misunderstandings earlier, the other company workers now started to really desire the part time work our company offered(remember four per project). For just working hour per week in our company (some times not even that) they got more than what they earned in their regular companies. As a result, some people even applied for leaves in their company citing sickness, and they worked in our company on the same day.

The next year saw the major crisis. The owner of the premises in which our company operates asked us to stop our projects for that year due to some reasons. Every one thought that our company would take a great downward swing like Sensex during Great Depression because of this. However it was not case. Cometh the hour, cometh the man.

Our CEO decided to shift our office premises to one of our competing companies called South Venus. So now we no longer had people of other companies working in our projects, we also started working for our company project in other company premises. Of course our project was one of the luckiest one, as already four of the South Venians were working in our project and we felt at home.

The second year, I was also privately recruited by the CEO to do another task besides my regular project work. I was asked to write anonymously about various fights that go on between our Project leads and our onsite coordinators in our company Bulletin Board. Though no one know it was me, I became famously known across my company as “Fake Software Engineer”.

During this year, our CEO also become concerned about the amount of work we do, and said that after every hundred lines of code, 7.5 minute break was compulsory. CEO felt that the break will help us to analyze our code and take decisions on how to code effectively after the break. Some senior software engineers complained that such compulsory breaks affected their momentum.

Stupid people. I loved those breaks, and those breaks also meant extra money to company. Our CEO had an arrangement with a Soft drinks company to exclusively sell their products during this breaks, and the contract amount went to some million dollar rupees. Those stupid people said he introduced these breaks just to get that money, though I don’t agree with them. He introduced the break to help us mate.

In spite of silent prayers of many who thought we will face the problems in the second year due to economic depression, we continued to do well. For example, one of our projects recruited a tester called Peterman from other firm paying 5,000,000 dollars and he ended up testing only five programs. J. Who said we are in midst of economic recession?

So only two years have been completed and we surely are going to see many such earth shattering changes in the future, which will make our company as the best. Once the changes are done, I will write them for you in the next story. Till then Good bye.

PS: Some traditions points out, that there are some weakness in the way in which in our company operates. Two years ago, our company won a million dolor projects from one the client called “International Software Council (ISC)”. However this year, most of our competitors had inside knowledge about our company as they worked in our projects and they used it to their advantage, and we lost the bid in second round itself for the same project. L

Why Obese People love Cricket?

2007 Men’s cricket World cup in Caribbean was known for first round exits of two Asian Cricketing giants, India and Pakistan, Death of Pakistan coach Bob Woolmer, lackluster scheduling by ICC, and the huge ticket prices that kept the locals away. However one positive image of that World cup was the picture of heavily built Dwayne Leverock of Bermuda, diving and taking a stunning one handed catch at slips to dismiss Indian opener Robin Uthappa.

This is these moments that distinguishes cricket from other sports. The moments that give obese viewers sense of connectivity with cricket that other Modern day sports lack. In no other sport, we could find such heavily built players who have little respect for what exercise means, and who devour ice creams can find a place even in the club games. Whereas in cricket such players turn out and represent their nations and World XI.

In soccer, a person like Inzamam or Ranatunga couldn’t even have represented his village side, whereas they were the captains of the respective national teams in cricket. What Inzamam and Ranatunga showed to the World was that even in days of Jhonty Rhodes athletic fielding efforts; cricket still has a place for those, who don’t worry that their heavy built body.

Change is the only thing that doesn’t change. Change also gripped the cricketing fraternity. To attract wider audience and to make a cricket a major sports outside the commonwealth countries, Twenty twenty games were introduced. It invariably lead to increased importance being given towards fitness of players. Selectors no longer selected the players solely based on the batting/ bowling skills alone. Youngsters, who couldn’t spring and dive and run like mad hare, were not even considered for selections. Touring team not only included fifteen players plus coach; they now have dieticians/ yoga trainers/ strength coaches etc.

Coaches become more furious towards those who didn’t do their daily work offs. Cricketers were forbidden from eating whatever they want. Calorie intake of players was closely watched. Pastries and desserts were punished by more rigorous work outs. Players who just turned up for the match and batted/ bowled were only memories of the future. Players were forced to do all sorts of things from playing rugby to touch football before the match to make them fit.

People, who liked cricket the way it was, began to worry that the Gentlemen game will lose the charm of players like Inzamam and Ranatunga. The way they ran, and drove the ball, in spite of having those extra pounds was a treat to watch for any one. People didn’t want to watch twenty two extremely fit individuals diving and running fast. They love that, but they also love the difference that these obese players bring.

This is the reason when they saw some one like Jesse Ryder turn up and represent Newzland, they become highly excited. Jesse looks plump, drinks (or drank) heavily but also plays cricket well. “If you can drink and still cover drive, you are Jesse Ryder” screamed one poster during the India – Newzland test series. Cricketing World was some what relieved to find out that even during these fitness conscious days, a player like Jesse Ryder could find a place in the National team and also play successfully.

Jesse proves that in spite of what coaches try, cricket will still spring up players who disobey the “Stay Fit” rule and turn out to be success stories. Cricket loves this unorthodoxy and that will be the exact reason why Cricket lovers would welcome Jesse into the Elite Team of Ranatunga, Inzamam and David Boon – players who showed that being not fit is not a recipe for failure.

Work on a Valentine day

The cab had not yet started. He once again tried to reach her; this was his fifteenth attempt from the morning. She has not answered even one of the calls. Fifty plus sorry messages he had sent also did not invoke any response from her.

He was Sridhar – a twenty three year old, software engineer, who has two years of experience in IT Field – all two years in Infosys Technologies Limited. Infosys has been good too him. He has managed two CRR1s in a row, couple of appreciation mails from the client in his project; and most important of all he got a girl friend here. It was during his training in Mysore that he first met her – her name Swetha – now working in Mysore DC.

It was she who was not picking up the call now; and she has every reason to do so. In spite of her virtually pleading with him, that she had to be at Bangalore on Sunday, he forced her to come to Chennai on Saturday. This Saturday was not just another Saturday – it was Valentine day and he had wanted to spend time with her. She agreed after a combination of persuasion and threat from Sridhar, and came to Chennai – but only after he booked her a return ticket in Cauvery Express on Saturday night itself – by this at least he could spend the entire Saturday with her

Alas! His plan however went awry and he was not able to spend even a moment with her so far. His Onsite Co – coordinator called him in the morning, and said there was a bug that needs to be fixed immediately. He couldn’t say no. His Onsite coordinator is not some one who ever asks him to come on weekends; unless of course there is an emergency. This was an emergency; that bug needs to be fixed. It was only a small bug – at most it would take only two hours maximum; but only he knows the system well and he had to come. He still consoled himself saying that he could at least spend the afternoon with her.

The small error in the code played hide and seek with him, and the two hours turned out to be ten hours, and now he is sitting in the six o clock cab hoping he could at least meet her for few minutes before she leaves. He nervously looked at the watch every few seconds. His watch showed six o clock, the cab has not yet started.

“Why don’t they start the cab on time” - it was just two minutes past six in his watch – but he was increasingly getting irritated. He had to be there in central at least by eight – that would give him half an hour to apologize and also gift the ring to her.

Its’ not the fault of the cab driver. He has to wait for the instruction of the transport coordinator. But the cab driver didn’t say that to Rajesh. “We will start soon sir” – the cab driver replied with a gentle smile.

The cab slowly left the office campus, and gathered momentum. He would be the last person to get down from the cab. The others would get down long way before Chennai Central.

He wanted to be as soon as possible with his girl friend. Normally when ever he travels in a cab, he would be praying to God that the driver should slowly and carefully; but not today, he wanted the driver to press down the accelerator to the full throttle.

Unfortunately, the young driver today, was not like some of his contempraries, who think they are driving in Formula 1.The cab driver was the person who loves to drive at the correct speed – and that made Sridhar angry. He let most of the cabs that started behind them from Office to overtake them. “Were you driving road roller before?” – Sridhar asked in a irritated tone to the driver.

The girl sitting next to him the cab was actually pleased to be at last traveling in a cab, whose driver follows road rules and her face showed that she didn’t appreciate Sridhar’s sense of humor. However the driver was not angered. “No sir, I was driving Mahindra Van before” – he answered matter of fact with a smile.

Sridhar’s anger increased at that reply. He started to murmur among himself – however every one in the cab was able to hear the murmur. “How these guys know my urgency. Working on a Valentine day, and missing a nice chance to be with my girl friend. Shit, now he drives as though he is Mahatma Gandhi’s grand child, following all rules. I’m not sure that she will ever forgive me for what I did today.”

The girl sitting next to him was reading the Zodiac Signs page in the morning paper. For his sign “Taurus” – it was given “You will make wrong decision’s today”. “Ya I made two wrong decisions today. First agreeing to come to work on Valentine day, and then to select this cab.” Other Infosians in the cab were hoping the driver would give him a fitting reply; but he remained silent with a gentle smile as usual.

He was lucky at last. The signal where he expected that the cab will waste at least ten minutes had a green signal. He hoped they could easily cross the signal, in spite of the slow speed. But the cab came to halt suddenly. “Why the hell you stopped? Go, its still just orange” – Sridhar was not able to control his anger any more and shouted at the cab driver. “Sorry sir, we are not supposed to cross the signal when it is orange.” “But every one does” – Sridhar almost yelled to the driver. There was no response from the driver other than his usual trademark smile.

More signals followed, and all others in the cab had got down. He was only person remaining, and he was racing against time, to meet his girl friend. For the first time in his life, he started to hate his job. How could he do a work, that doesn’t even allow him to see his girl friend on a Valentine day? He was angry at every thing; from his onsite coordinator, to his girl friend that is not picking the phone. But all his anger was now directed towards the cab driver.

“Sir, will we reach Central before tomorrow” – he asked the cab driver mockingly. “I will try to reach as soon as possible” – the cab driver said with a smile. Sridhar began the long monologue of how he is the most unlucky person on the earth – how he could not stay with his love even on a Valentine day. The driver heard it all- but he kept on driving as usual.

At 8.20 the ten minutes before the departure of Cauvery Express, the cab reached Central. Sridhar got down from the cab, closed the cab door, at a high velocity in anger, and ran in to meet her.

After he left the cab driver, took his cell phone. There were ten missed calls. He dialed the number and began speaking, “Sorry dear, I was not able to talk to you properly even on a Valentine day. But what to do. Work is more important right. I had to take those people who work hard in office back to their homes. I will try to meet you tomorrow”

Sridhar was not there to listen to that and he continued to believe he was the unluckiest person – though he got to spend at least few minutes with his Love.

Yes or No - A very Short Story

It was the fag end of the nineteenth century. India was under the British Raj. He was in a great dilemma on what to do? He was not sure whether to say Yes or No.

He had just lost his wife. She had a disease that was neither cured by European medicines nor by the Traditional Indian Medicines. She had died without producing any offspring.

His parents were forcing him to remarry. They had even selected a girl from their native village. “He was too young not to remarry; people are even marrying in their sixties. What is wrong in marrying again?” was the logic used by his parents to convince him. Their concern was that if he doesn’t marry, their dynasty will come to an end, as he was their only son.

He had seen the girl, whom his parents wanted him to marry, few days earlier. She was pretty, young and beautiful; nevertheless he was confused. He was not able to remove his dead wife’s image from his heart. He was not sure whether to say Yes or No to his parents.

What did he say? Yes or No.

You would not have been reading this article if he had said No. He was my Great – Grand father.