A
conversation between a Soldier and Software Engineer in Shatabdhi Train ...
Vivek
Pradhan was not a happy man. Even the plush comfort of the air-conditioned
compartment of the Shatabdhi 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
stockily 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. Naive ness 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 transactions 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 awestruck; quite like a child at a planetarium. This was something
big and beyond his imagination.
"You design and code such things." 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 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 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 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 valor and duty was a daily part of life; 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. 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. Vikram 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
