BEWARE....

Beware of the thief who steals thy markers,
And restarts thy PC without thy knowing,
And shifts thy CPU to access the LAN cable,
And doesn't reconnect it when he is going...

Beware of him that sits on thy desk,
And erases all the stuff written on it, clean,
And then says, 'Oops, sorry about that.',
Good Lord! Techies can be so mean!

Beware of those who swap thy nice chair,
Readjust the height, the incline, the armrest,
Though thy back hurts, he doesn't care,
He's just the accepted project pest...

Beware of the sly fox who flicks thy mouse,
For his is a dud, which still works with a mouse ball,
His stealthy smile, your anger will arouse,
For he is the one, thou needs to fear most of all...

Beware of those project prowlers who just wait for a lonely pen,
Sitting innocently on thy desk when thou hast stepped away,
Friend, thou art never going to see that one again,
A trip to the F&S is guaranteed today...

Beware of the conniving creature that lurks,
Behind cubicle walls, doors and dividers,
To see whether thou really are at work,
Or chatting happily on office communicator...

Beware of those who bring coffee to thy workstation,
And casually talk to thee over the top of thy cubicle,
Accidently drop some on thy client documentation,
Boy, is thy manager going to be hysterical!

The Great Badminton Tournament

Project outing day at last! And this time, it was bound to be more fun because two projects from the same work force were going together to the same place. But what was going to be the best of all was the ETBT.

Yes, we’re software engineers and we use a LOT of abbreviations. EOD, ETC, ABCD…. But ETBT stood for, ‘Executive Team Badminton Tournament’, and we had coaxed our rather shy and bashful project manager, Geetha ma’am, to participate.

The babble in the bus died down and the air was charged with electricity about the impending match. Some people even began betting on which team would win and bookies started collecting bets.

“If our project wins, I’ll trade two of my defects for one of your incidents. Deal?”

“Deal!”

And so the stands filled up with eager spectators from both projects waving the proud colours of our clients’ logos. Poor Geetha ma’am was very nervous and the sight of the milling, buzzing crowd didn’t give her any confidence.

“Don’t worry ma’am. You are so focussed when it comes to issues in the project and you’re also good at handling pressure. You needn’t be nervous.”

Even with all the encouragement, Geetha ma’am looked pretty green when the time for the match arrived. But she sportively hitched up her saree, kicked off her slippers and slipped on a pair of nikes and walked into the court to a loud accompaniment of applause from our side.

Just then, a deafening roar sounded from the other team. Their champion had marched majestically onto the ground. Standing nearly six feet tall, the other project manager looked like a giant in front of our Geetha ma’am. They shook hands over the net and took their places.

“Luv all.” The referee announced and tossed the feathered shuttlecock towards Geetha ma’am, who recoiled in fright. Between her thumb and forefinger she picked up the thing and served.

She missed.

“Service change.” The monotonous voice of the referee sailed through the air, followed by a shrill whistle.

The other project player threw the shuttlecock up and whacked it mercilessly into our side, straight at Geetha ma’am’s foot. She wasn’t even ready.

“One Luv.” The referee yelled and tossed the shuttlecock back into the other court, to our disappointment.

This was going to be a loooooong game.

“Ten Luv.”

In fifteen minutes, the other team had scored ten times and we? Zilch. Every time she missed the serve, a collective sigh issued from our side and a whole bunch of sniggering issued from theirs. Losing confidence with every fault, Geetha ma’am had almost given up. The game was over for us.

A brilliant idea hit me out of nowhere! I watched and waited for the other team to serve. Our team player was already breaking into a sweat at the thought of having to face the whizzing feathered blur. But I was ready and took my place just behind her.

Just when the shuttlecock soared into our court and when she was just about to miss it, I yelled.

“We delivered an extra service package last night ma’am!”

‘Tok!’

The whole crowd fell silent and stood stunned. Then a torrent of cheer burst out from our team! She had hit the shuttlecock at last! The other team’s project manager was so shocked that he had forgotten to hit it back.

Now I knew what to do!

The match went on, and so did my commentary.

“On site team wants faster delivery!”

‘Tok’

“Client meeting MOM is lost!”

‘Tak’

“Business is planning to shift focus to other issues!”

‘Tok’

“Infrastructure team is going on strike!”

“Database admin is down with chicken pox!

“System experienced two hours of down time!”

‘Tok’ ‘Tik’ ‘Tak’

She was whacking them left, right and centre! And we cheered, “Gee.Tha.Ma’am. Gee.Tha.Ma’am”

“Game point!” The referee announced. We were going to win this one.

The other team’s project manager looked steely eyed at us. Such focus, such determination! If I was his potential client, I would melt. Minutes passed like hours and everybody was still. It was their serve. Slowly, with narrowed eyes, he considered our saree-clad superstar. She was unbeatable, but he looked just as sturdy.

Then he hurled the shuttlecock into the air and smacked it so hard that the ‘zing’ sound it made was almost audible.

“We won another three year contract!” I yelled.

‘SMASH!’

It was over. We had won! The shuttlecock lay featherless on their side of the court and the sound of the cheering on our side was thunderous! Brandishing the badminton racquet over her head, our champion walked back to us with her saree pallu billowing behind her like a super-hero’s cloak. Today, she really was one!

What if ??

If angels were mean and devils cute,
'N guitar when played, sounded like a flute..

If hours were 12 and months 24,
Would you feel - it wasn't like this before?

If life asked you to choose between your honey and money,
Would you find it funny or choose penny?

If you had to live only for one reason,
Would you live it through season after season?

What if you could walk on the sea,
Or talk to a tree..

What if all your dreams came true,
Would you really care if RED was BLUE??

Trapped in a Closet..

Glimpses of memories buzzing through my head,
Makes me feel like I am dead..

The wound in the heart cries,
Makes way to tears through my eyes..

Dwells in my soul, a strong darkness,
Spreading only sorrow and no happiness..

I am all alone, Trapped in this Closet..
To which there exists no way in, no outlet..

Entertainment

The afternoon was sultry, even with the AC in the cubicle. Unanimous clicking sounds issued from all the computers, telephones rang off the hook and IMs pinged. Today was the client visit day for our project so everyone was dressed extra sharp and looked extra busy.

The door opened and four tall, severe looking blonde men walked in, led by our manager. They cast us all a bored glance and moved on.

Whew! I breathed a sigh of relief, and sank lower into my chair, glad that it was over uneventfully.

Just then, I heard a soft mewing sound. Assuming that I had probably imagined it, I ignored it. Then it came again! A little louder, a little clearer. It was definitely a ‘meow’. The girl in the next cubicle squealed and jabbed her finger towards the space below my desk.

There, nestled amidst all my paperwork and taxes, sat one mother cat, with her two kittens. Unbelievable! How in the world did she ever get in? All our doors were electronically activated, so unless she wore an ID card, there was no way she could’ve gotten in.

By now, sufficient heads were turned in my direction. People began leaving their work stations and trotted towards my desk. I was petrified about what my manager would say, today being ‘Client Visit Day’ of all days. But to my amusement, one of the tall, severe men, picked up a kitten and began petting him!

That was what everyone was waiting for. A whole throng of people descended on my work station and began picking up and pampering the cats. My manager was thrilled that the clients were enjoying themselves here. Out of nowhere, came a saucer of milk, which the three of them lapped up in a jiffy (all over my taxes). Once fed, they were in a mood for fun and games and I don’t mean just the cats! This was the perfect release for the pent up tension in our demanding project and people began acting as silly as the little kittens.

One of the kittens was determinedly gnawing at the main power cord! I yanked him away immediately. 220 volts at 50 Hz. frequency could fry his whiskers. But what did he know? He’s a cat!

Soon, there was a long line of people from other projects who had come to see these mystery visitors. News like this spreads fast in my company, and the cats were enjoying the adoration and fond glances of the whole third floor. Someone brought a discarded CPU cabinet, stuffed it with paper from the shredder and placed the cats in it. Happy in their new home, they purred in contentment.

In no time at all, we had people who were willing to adopt the animals. The Animal Volunteer groups came charging in and set up a bidding booth for the kittens. Bids poured in from all people, including our foreign clients. Soon, each kitten was being sold for a thousand bucks!!! A little stray kitten, which the very same people who were bidding, would shoo out of their homes and kitchens, was going for one grand odd! The mother cat sure picked the best day to walk into our company.

But who would get the money after the sale?

“The company of course.” A voice in the crowed said. We all turned around to see who it was.

“According to clause xyz of code blah blah, all proceeds of any monitory activities with regard to company assets, which have a blanket cover over all fund raising, sales and charities has to be routed through the company – ”

“Wait a minute!” I interrupted the monologue of the member of the finance team. “They’re just cats!”

“Where were these cats found?” He asked me in a lofty voice.

“Under my desk.”

“Are they yours?”

“No.”

“Then they were on company premises. They become company cats.”

Company cats! Ridiculous! I bet the cat would bolt from here if she knew she was being sneakily recruited into this enterprise.

The Animal volunteer groups would not take this lying down. After all, they had invested so much time and effort; they had to see some of the profits. Our clients were starting to get a little irked with all the bureaucratic red-taping. So, our leadership team got into a heated discussion about it being client property since they were found in our project, which was, after all, funded by our clients. They were client cats. Then the H.R team sailed in and unfurled presentation after presentation about how they were joint assets and how we owned 51% shares in them and how we could divide them between the clients and the company. The mother would go to the company (since she had product manufacturing potential) and the two kittens could go to the client (since they would grow in future to be production firms).

In all the noise and commotion, I retreated to my desk to continue work. I had had enough of this joke. As I started typing furiously, I heard the sounds of mewing again. This time it was coming from my back pack. I peered in to see the three of them cuddled up against my laptop cable. (The curious one was gnawing on the power cord again!) Apparently, the mother cat had decided that she didn’t want her kittens being outsourced, and sneaked them back inside. Quietly, I zipped up my bag and tip-toed past the crowed of people involved in the argument.

They didn’t even realize that the cats were no longer under their noses.

Life in 25 Kms.

Life as a techie is challenging...
The Bus to Work

It was only Tuesday and the week was young, just like me. There were four more days to go for that sweet can of beer cooling in some fridge. My fingers could already feel the condensation on the outside of the can. Unfortunately, the alert on my laptop reminded me of the numb keys i had been pushing for the last half hour.
It was the fourth of October. Bus Day. Though the company offered generously to send a cab to pick me up, I wanted to go by the stuffy, over crowded Volvo, just for kicks.
Don't judge me yet! Any change from routine was a kick for me.
The rush hour traffic was already building up en route to the great tech-parks of 'White Field'. Truckloads of men and women milled at junctions, here and there, ID cards dangling from necks and pockets, laptops in hand, straightened hair and crisp white shirts. We were all tagged. A species of our own, we could sniff out others of our herd.
Just as life continued at snail's pace, three girls got in. One sat next to me and two, opposite.
"So what colour is it?"
"Peacock blue. It matches my iPod. Cool na?"
The clan of the H.R. Human Resources.
An overpowering whiff of something sickeningly sweet swept into my nostrils. That much amount of perfume was potent enough to knock out a dog!
They chattered on and on, only to stop and start giggling.
Suddenly a soft hand brushed up against mine. I immediately moved away, just in case. It's dangerous being a boy in between so many girls. One accidental glance or badly timed rush to the door could get a guy in a heap of trouble!
For a while the annoying snickering, chattering irritated me. What was so funny? Perhaps i had dropped chutney on my shirt again. Damn! There was nothing i could do now. Fine. Whatever it was that got them giggling, I had to drown it out. My lead had already called me twice and morning deployments were getting delayed.
Soon, the chattering became background buzz. The laughing became quiet chuckles and i could hear the girl next to me breathe.
I realized just then that she was a girl. An individual of the opposite gender of my species. Am I supposed to feel something more? Were you expecting me to?
Just out of curiosity, I threw her a glance. Her head was bent demurely over her phone.
What a beauty! How could i not have seen that before? The iPhone. The mother of all touch screens. Steve Jobs was a god (all hail!). 4.5 X 2.31 X 0.37 cubic inches of sheer genius. I couldn't stop ogling at it.
Like a bolt of lightning the screen lit up.
'He's hot!'
I didn't mean to read it, but i couldn't unglue my eyes from that piece of work!
'He's looking at your phone..'
Quickly, i ripped my eyes away (ouch! That hurt!), and focussed on the deployment status.
A whole burst of loud, shrill laughter erupted from the stout girl in front and was accompanied by horse like neighing from the girl next to her. Ony iPhone girl was laughing in modestly. Girls!
The next fifteen minutes were spent in trying to keep from looking at the phone and restraining myself from strangling the fat girl's throat. She was still laughing!
"Patience, Deepak." I chanted and continued looking at my screen.
The bus was starting to get oppressive, even for a Volvo. Kannada music blaring from the speakers was unbearable. My head began to pound. Deployment or no deployment, i shut the lid of my laptop, pulled out my cell phone, plugged in the earphones and closed my eyes for a moment, only to open them in the next.
The minutes ticked by and traffic was crawling. The buffalo on the side of the road gave me a doleful look before continuing to fertilize the parthenium bush. The 'namma metro' workers were yelling obscenities at the BMTC bus drivers and my eyes started to close.
All though my limbs were stiff from the way I was sitting, I felt a definite pressure on my foot. A four inch long heeled shoe was resting against my nice Woodlands. The nerve!
"Excuse me..."
No answer. I looked around to face her.
What a striking beauty! How could i have not seen that before? The eyes. Half closed. looking glassily at the world outside, framed by thick lashes that generated a little whirlwind in me every time they fluttered. My voice died in my throat. The sweet perfume sailed into my senses and I couldn't get enough of it. Her cherubic face was shrouded in black ringlets and her head was bobbing with the movement of the bus manoeuvring through the pot-holes and two wheelers. If only she would rest it on my shoulder, I would denounce Jobs! she would be my new deity.
Her heeled shoe was slowly moving away from my boot. I quickly thrust it back under it, lest she should realize that it wasn't a foot rest. Those soft hands were but a centimetre from mine. If only I had a ring! But the closest thing i had was a DVD and that would look like a 'Vishnu Chakra' on those slender fingers. If she could just wait here, in the bus, I could run out and get something remotely ring-like. A key chain maybe? Anything! My love, my life, my - wait! I didn't know her name, and her ID card hung out of sight. Well, iPhone goddess would just have to do.
For the rest of the traffic signal, we sat there. She in her oblivion and me in my misery. Her petal feet on my boot, her hand a centimetre from mine. Her eyes, half closed, looking glassily at the grazing buffalo, and me wanting to be that blessed animal. The hours passed with her foot on mine...