.A chat between a
Solider and Software Engineer in
Shatabdi Train
.An interesting and a
must readl!
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 stockpiled
built 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. Aliveness 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
crept 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 could see, he
had the man where he wanted, and it was time to
drive home the
point. "Let me give you an example. Take this train.
The entire
railway reservation system is computerized. You can book
a train ticket
between any two stations from any of the hundreds of
computerized
booking centers across the country. Thousands of tr!
an actions
accessing a single database, at a time concurrently; data integrity,
locking, data
security. Do you understand the
complexity in designing and
coding such a
system?"
The man was awe
stuck; quite 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."
This was like
the last straw for Vivek. He retorted, "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 at the other, wanting something
else, and your
boss, always expecting you to have finished it
yesterday."
Vivek paused in
his diatribe, his belligerence fading with
self-realization.
What he had said, was not merely the outburst of a
wronged man, it
was the truth. And one need not get angry while
defending the
truth.
"My
friend," he concluded triumphantly, "you don't know what it is
to be in the
Line of Fire".
The man sat back
in his chair, his eyes closed as if in
realization.
When he spoke after sometime, it was with a calm
certainty that
surprised Vivek. "I know sir,..... I know what it is
to be in the
Line of Fire......." He was staring
blankly, as if no
passenger, no
train existed, just a vast expanse of time.
"There were
30 of us when we were ordered to capture Point 4875 in
the cover of the
night. The enemy was firing from the top.
There
was no knowing
where the next bullet was going to come from and for
whom. In the morning when we finally hoisted the tricolor
at the
top only 4 of us
were alive."
"You are
a...?"
"I am
Subedar Sushant from the 13 J&K Rifles on duty at Peak 4875 in
Kargil. They
tell me I have completed my term and can opt for a soft
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 Batra Sahib 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 and
brought that injured
soldier into the
bunker. Every morning thereafter, as we stood
guard, I could
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 how to respond.
Abruptly, he
switched off the laptop. It seemed
trivial, even
insulting to
edit a Word document in the presence of a man for whom
velour and duty
was a daily part of life; velour 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 tricolor.
Suddenly, as if
by impulse, he stood up at attention and his right
hand went up in
an impromptu salute.
It was the least
he felt he could do for the country.
PS: The incident
he narrated 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 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!
Life isn't about
how to survive the storm, but how to dance in the
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