She...

By Neeraj Shinde
Bangalore, India
http://shindeneeraj.blogspot.com/

It started drizzling when I came out of my office one lovely evening last month. The rains, here in Bangalore can never be predicted just as the city traffic. For me the city is not less than a hill-station where it can rain at almost any part of the year. The most interesting part of the Bangalore rains is that it could splash your favourite ironed office dress in a minute and could vanish away the very next minute. Needless to feel surprised if you find the roads all dried-off within no time. But just then what makes the things worse is the city traffic.

I kept on walking hoping to board an auto before the downpour starts. I rushed hastily and reached the main road when I found myself caught in the heavy downpour. What am I carrying? I thought as I checked the pockets of my trousers. I had a look around as I covered my cell phone with my palm over my right pocket. I could gradually feel the wetness inside my clothes as I stood there helpless waiting to cross the road. I started making several futile attempts to cover my head with my left hand. It was just then when I saw her staring at me.

She was dressed in perfect professional attire with a big laptop bag hung up on her left arm. Moderately long hair and a high heeled footwear. But for me what was more important was that she had an umbrella.

I watched her as her stare gradually morphed into a delightful smile.

“Come inside!”, she said as I was about to move my eyes away from her.

That indeed was unexpected invite. I noticed the slow moving traffic that still restricted the people on this side of the road to cross towards the other. It is usual to wait for 5-10 minutes to cross the road in Bangalore. Sometimes, a few lucky ones manage to perform this feat in a couple of minutes less too. But that’s sheer luck and sometimes it involves high risks too.

“Umm… No, actually it’s alright!”, I responded as I realized the size of her umbrella that no way could have protected two people within its diameter.

“It’s not a problem. You can come inside”, she insisted and I had to surrender.

I found it difficult to stand inside with her holding the umbrella. But I really felt like appreciating her attempt to share the umbrella equally among us both.

“Shall I hold it? That should be more comfortable!”, I asked.

“Ya! No problem”, she said and she handed the umbrella to me.

A couple of questions more and that made me learn that we had the same destinations, meaning we wanted to cross the road.

We stood still crouching our bodies in an attempt to shrink it within the umbrella. Our eyes started glaring at the right waiting to find a gangway between the passing vehicles. And here we found it. We started moving hastily as I felt her hand on my right shoulder.

Nothing was heard then on except the blowing vehicles and the tapping of the rain. Soon we were half-way of our journey waiting for another gangway within the vehicles coming over from the left.

“Let’s go!”, I said as I found some space to sneak away behind an approaching truck.

I was half wet but I was not really bothered of it now. We had crossed the road and it was time for me to return the umbrella and bid adieu to her.

“Thanks a lot mam’!,” I said as I realized that her gesture deserved more than a mere thanks!

She smiled and she left; and I pushed myself inside an empty auto.

Some small yet good things do happen to all of us everyday. Their memories might not last in our minds for lifetime but they certainly make you feel good. Indeed!

To all those who plan to ask me about her after reading this post – well, I never saw her again!

The Best Perfume in the World!

Bangalore, India
http://shindeneeraj.blogspot.com/

It was the first time I was at the chemist's buying a perfume. Never in my worst nightmare I ever thought that I would be buying a perfume this way. He asked me for the name - cologne, musk, jasmine and the list went on and on. I had no experience in buying a perfume and neither was I aware of the numerous fragrances and the brands that sold them. A good perfume, for me was merely something that felt good to my nose. I would never have bought a perfume for myself in my life. But today, here I was wanting to buy something that I never ever wanted.

I gave him a blunt look, almost speechless. Within no time I saw a varied range of perfumes displayed before me.

"Try this Sir! It's the latest one from Gucci", the chemist said as he opened the nozzle of one of the bottles. His face was enlightened as he brought the bottle before my nose.

"I don't want it", I said in anguish. His face fell as he noticed my reaction to his small professional gesture. May be I need something else, he thought.

"No problem Sir! I can show you something better than this", he said trying to regain his enthusiasm. He kept the bottle aside and got some other perfume for me.

"This one's from Korea!", he said looking into my eyes. I looked at the bottle uninterestingly as he again brought the bottle before my nose.

"Will you stop that!", I said in a hoarse voice as if I never wanted to buy the thing he was showing to me. He kept the bottle aside as he learnt my disinterest in the stuff he was showing.

"What's your favourite? Please tell me what exactly you are looking for", said the gentleman.

I am so unsure of what I wanted, I thought.

"Gimme anything", I said trying to evade the situation. The chemist gave me a bizarre look unable to understand what I really wanted.

Almost any fragrance could hide the odour of a dead body, I thought as I could recollect the wrinkled face of grandma lying at home, lifeless. But I really didn't know of what exactly could have solved the purpose. Or probably I was so unsure of what I was really trying to hide behind the fragrance of the perfume I was about to buy. Did I really needed a perfume to hide the odour of grandma's lifeless body - the touch of which was at times my sole means of happiness, the fragrance of which was once the best perfume in the world.

I wondered if I could get a better perfume to hide her odour.

I was in no mood to explain the chemist why I needed a perfume. Instead I bought a bottle at random ignoring all his efforts of excellent salesmanship.

"No Problem Sir! But I feel that you could get a better one in almost the same price!", he said as I left the shop.

"Yes! But a dead body doesn't have preferences!", I replied as I saw the chemist understanding the context better.

Though I covered grandma's cadaver with an artificial perfume that day, but her odour still remains the best fragrance in the world even today.

And The Rowdism Continues...

By Neeraj Shinde
Bangalore, India
http://shindeneeraj.blogspot.com/

It’s not even a year passed with the rowdy bus conductor episode I’d encountered with one of the bus conductors in the Navi Mumbai Municipal Transport, NMMT. Actually, I always wanted to include the whole story of this rowdy bus conductor in my Blog. But, the newspaper stories spoke it all. I am whole-heartedly grateful to the Daily News & Analysis, DNA Team for placing the shocking incident that took place with me in the form of a good, social-awakening story in their news-paper.

But this is not what this post is all about. I am in Bangalore now and have not given up traveling in the local city buses. I usually prefer to travel in BMTC buses to and fro my office and home. And what I’ve noticed is that the bus conductors are smarter than the ones in Mumbai. They have developed a unique way to earn some extra income in their profession.

Well, let me explain this. A bus conductor deferring the return of the money to the passengers due to unavailability of change is not at all new to most of us. I think this must be common to all the places around India. Most of us forget to ask back and forget the money thus, leaving the bus conductor with a profit for which he is knowingly or unknowingly waiting for. The money goes to his pocket; doubtless! This is a common phenomenon and I don’t feel a need to blame the bus conductors here. But certainly, if conductors are denying returning your money immediately despite having enough change then it’s for sure he deserves blame.

The recent bus conductors I met here in Bangalore are further smarter. This is how it goes! Everyday I travel from JP Nagar to Dairy circle in the local BMTC buses. It costs me Five rupees per journey. One fine day when I was on my return journey from my office, I gave a five rupee coin to the Bus conductor. Surprisingly, he gave me a Two rupee coin back. I wondered. Certainly, it’s surprising to discover that the bus fares had slashed down overnight Esp. in this age of inflation. I thought of asking him back to get a confirmation. He nodded and walked away murmuring some words in Kannada. But what was more important here was not the reduced fare, but the fact that I was not given a ticket. And by the time I could see this guy back, I’d got down from the bus. May be he forgot, I thought.

The story doesn’t end here. I was even more surprised when I met another conductor probably, of the same species who gave me a Two rupee coin back and sneaked away without giving me a ticket. I resisted and this time asked for a ticket. Initially, my words were ignored but later considered when I insisted. He asked me back for the Two rupee coin upon which I got a ticket issued. The story was now making some sense. Passengers have an option of traveling a distance worth Five bucks by either paying the entire cost, getting a ticket issued or by paying just Three bucks without a ticket. Smart, isn’t it? This principle is based on ‘mutual co-ordination’ in which the bus conductor earns a couple of rupees more per passenger whereas, the passenger saves a couple of bucks per journey. And this works very well if the passenger is traveling for short distances. Believe me! On the contrary to the mutual co-ordination principle, the conductor would not bother to pay you back your ill-deserved Two rupees if you seem to be very naïve or non-resident of the city. That makes the conductor further richer by Two rupees. Who the heck bothers about BMTC? Seriously, bus conductors of the other cities have lot more to learn from these.

No matter it’s very hard to sustain such instances in our day to day life. Most of the times it makes sense to ignore such occurrences instead of quibbling over things you don’t have your control upon. Esp. when we are aware that there’s lots more happening above mere bus conductors and drives; I prefer not to name them. Still I wish I would have fought here, bringing this clandestine to light; but I don’t want to get featured in the newspaper headlines, again. :(

The NMMT Rowdy Bus Conductor Episode

I am a lazy developer!

By Neeraj Shinde
http://shindeneeraj.blogspot.com

No, do not go with the word ‘lazy’ here. Because it does not mean what it sounds like. I notice that I have become a kinda lazy programmer since I’ve joined Oracle Corp. But do not be under a wrong notion here, thinking that I do not work at all – it’s just that I have become smarter in my work and save ample time for other activities.

Laziness is complied by smartness. So when I say lazy, it means one who thinks hard and acts smart. Definitely, working smarter fetches more recognition than slogging hard to complete a task. It really doesn’t make much sense to work hard in digging out the cause for the problem just to end up to discover that the problem was not really a problem at all. All it takes is an out of the box thinking approach and a little bit of experience on the subject to quickly resolve issues.

Thanks to the Oracle’s work culture which gives me ample freedom to fix my own problems. Flexible work timings definitely boost the morale of the employees to act smarter. This try to develop the feeling that Oracle’s problems are my own problems and it’s me who is going to decide how to fix them. Every fix, every enhancement is an achievement which is the source of new vigor to face newer problems.

One more thing which I’ve recently learnt is a quicker way to fix problems. I call this an Indexed approach towards problem solving which I bet is the smarter approach for quicker answers. All you need to have is a little bit of sincerity and a great deal of process compliance. Let me explain this! As days go by in the life of a developer, he keeps on encountering numerous issues – the so called bugs the solution to which might be many. Each solution need not be called the best or rather a solution which you would call the best in one context would not be the same in another scenario. A solution is paramount for the customer and that’s why you are paid, right? But what is more important from the developer’s point of view is not the solution; it’s the approach which gains significance in a long term. Indexed approach suggests that a developer should take a note of the approach and the tools needed to implement this approach in order to mould it into a workable solution. A solution is mere incidental and cannot be generalized. One should rather remember the approaches.

Keeping in sync with this methodology, I’ve now started maintaining a personal repository of the tools, scripts, handy queries, documents etc. which provide me a smarter way to build solutions. Indexing refers to the fact that the problem statement itself should suggest you the location of the information needed to build up a workable and possibly the best solution.

That’s why I say, “Knowledge is not knowing everything, it’s all about knowing where everything is stored”.

Yet Another Leap!

Of the Red Roses and Blood...

Had scribbled this one for one of the story writing competitions conducted by the Infosys - HRD. The story speaks about the mind and emotions of a soldier.

I woke up early on Christmas morning and couldn’t believe my eyes. There were no soldiers on the road, no tanks and guns, no sound of bombings. After 5 long years would I have a real Christmas… I wondered. Yes it was 5 years ago that it all started, when my world came crumbling around me. My life had changed entirely since I had joined the Army. I rubbed my eyes and tried to find my way out. A wave of cool breeze splashed on my face as I moved out of the tent. I could see the traces of snow still decorating the small tree outside my tent.

“Aman Singh!”, I shouted after I learnt his absence in my tent.

I tired to recollect the memory of the last night but there was nothing I could remember. I looked at my watch which showed quarter to six. It was still dawn and not even the early rays of light were visible in the snowy sky.

I looked around as I walked out of the tent. I could see a couple of tents out there calm and quiet. I moved towards one of the tent trying to explore the situation and peeped into it. I could see Major Shishupal sleeping peacefully like a small kid. I didn’t dare to wake him up and returned back towards my tent.

“Merry Christmas Raman!”, I heard a voice from behind.

Surprisingly I turned back and saw Aman Singh walking towards me with two strangers. He had a sparkling smile on his face which resembled a smile of an angel.

“So finally you are awake?”, Aman asked.

“Yes!”, I replied in astonishment. I looked at the two strangers. They didn’t seem to belong to the area within the line of control. And before I could think more or react to the situation, Aman started introducing them.

“Look today we have two very special guests among us”, Aman said.

I could notice the enthusiasm in his eyes while he spoke. I stared at them from head to toe. They were dressed in typical Arabic outfits with a black turban and a long kurta which extended below their knees. One of them had a small bag hanging on his shoulders that looked quite worn out but the way in which he held it made it seem to have a very special significance for him.

“They have come here for us from across the border. But don’t worry! It’s not what you are thinking Raman. They are our friends”, Aman continued.

I looked at Aman unable to speak a word. He stood there smiling. His serene face tempted me to believe his words. I turned my eyes towards one of the strangers who was now smiling at me.

“Hello Raman! I am Wasim and this is Javed, my friend” the stranger said.

I looked at the second stranger who was now nodding at me with respect. He was searching for something in his bag and took out a small bouquet of red roses and a sweet box.

“We are here to greet you this Christmas and pass on our goodwill to you all”, he said as he offered me the small bunch of roses and the sweet box. I looked at Aman trying to seek an explanation for this gesture.

“Yes, accept it Raman. It’s just a gift with some good intentions”, Aman said trying to convince me.

“Merry Christmas to you too”, I said as I smiled back at them and accepted the gift.

We placed a wooden cot just out of the tent and asked our guest to have a seat. The cool breeze was enchanting our minds and the atmosphere seemed to be filled with the warmth of friendship.

All this was still unbelievable for me – probably I was never accustomed to receive roses from strangers or at least from those to whom we call enemies. But Wasim and Javed were our guests - the only reason why they were special was that they belonged to the land beyond the LOC.

But this was not the matter of concern now. We kept on talking – on various topics, our cultures, our countries, about the mountains, the valleys and the winter. Soon to realize that they weren’t our guests anymore – they were old friends. We laughed and shared jokes which made us forget the past and the future. Aman baked some beans on the fire for all of us as we kept enjoying them while we talked.

It was late dawn by now and we could see the sun brightening in the east – melting down the snow of fear and anguish which was gathered over the darkness of the night.

“Raman!”, I heard a scream as I opened my eyes.

It was Major Shishupal waking me up. I stood awake gaining my senses back to the reality. I looked outside – the enemy had started the bombarding from the other side of the LOC and the atmosphere was filled with the cries, the bullets and the roaring tanks. I must be dreaming, I thought.

“How can you sleep this way and evade the revenge for the sacrifice of Major Aman Singh last night?’, Shishupal shouted.

That brought me back to my senses. There were no roses around but their colour was spilled around everywhere in the form of fresh blood. I thought of my dream which was still green in my mind – this reminded me of those guests to whom to kill I was appointed here.