An Indian Army soldier and a software engineer met in Shatabadi
Express and here is an interesting conversation that transpired between
them:
Vivek Pradhan was not a happy man. Even the plush comfort of the air-conditioned c
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.”
“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 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. 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.
