by Anil Chawla
Clark brought the house to order and said, ‘This is a common problem for many of you, so let’s spend some time on it.’ Dramatically, he claimed he could re-enact in exact detail any scenario Goky had faced, and asked him to describe a particular situation so it could then be analyzed. Goky mentioned the ordeal he’d been through just the previous night. Over the next few minutes, Clark described the situation so realistically and precisely that Goky was really impressed. Clark went on to explain the managerial perspective covering:
•The need for detailed planning driven by objectives and goals
•Task-definition and task-completion criteria
•The need to define minor milestones
•Strong tracking mechanisms
•Feedback loop
•Some kind of guide or checklist to scrutinize the output and confirm that it matches the defined criteria
•The role of leadership or senior management—are they, directly or indirectly, encouraging the situation to perpetuate itself?
While this sounded a bit abstract to Goky, he wanted to give the ideas enough time to sink in.
After Clark spoke, other participants started contributing ideas and topics for discussion. The common question was: When they tried their best to make something work, why did it never work? It was odd that those who were united in this thought were largely from the IT industry.
So, was it an industry characteristic?
After intense deliberations over nearly three hours, the workshop concluded. It was clearly time well spent, and everyone heard multiple perspectives. As they were socializing over drinks, some of the other participants opened up further. They narrated incidents when documents shared with one client contained information about others, leading to serious escalations. In the spirit of learning and sharing, they exchanged ideas on what different companies were doing. That spirit was further accentuated courtesy the top-quality spirits in their glasses. The plush ambience of the hotel helped. The food was exotic and the spread lavish. Goky was enjoying his single malt, black olives, grilled giant prawns, and an occasional nibble of smoked almonds. He reflected on the long way he had come not only from his early life but also from his first journey to Mumbai.
***
He had undertaken a 26-hour journey by train from his hometown in Rajasthan and landed in Bombay. He had got a lot of free advice from friends and relatives about living in that city. As with most free advice, it was liberally given and poorly received. It was difficult for him to imagine putting even a single piece of their advice to use. As his train reached Central Station, the crowd outside was overwhelming—a sea of humanity was all he could see. All the gyan passed on to him was forgotten. He laboured on with his luggage to find a taxi. Suddenly, he felt somewhat lighter, and it took him a moment to realize why. He reached into his back pocket only to find his wallet missing. Somebody had neatly done the job. After a minute of panic, he started smiling. His mother had given him 2,000 rupees for his initial living expenses in the city. The assumption was that ITS would give him an advance against his salary (to which they had committed) within a week and after that, he would be comfortably off. His mother’s advice, which he had followed, was to split the money. So he had split the 2,000 rupees into four wads— 1,000 in one of the ticket pockets in his trousers, 500 in another; 300 was kept in between layers of clothing in his suitcase—which was locked—and out of the remaining 200, small denomination notes of 1, 2 and 5, totalling 70, were put in the wallet and the rest was in the front pocket of his trousers.
He was to stay with a relative named Udham who lived in a 225 sq. ft. flat in Andheri East. Over the next few days, Goky got up early in the morning, commuted for an hour and a half to his office, worked through the day, and went out with his colleagues in the evenings to look for a place to rent. That did not take much time. On the third day, he found a paying-guest accommodation in the Lower Parel area. Firoza, the Parsi landlady, had divided her small 550 sq. ft. house into three rooms. One was occupied by the lady herself. The other two were let out. When Goky moved in there, one of the rooms had three bachelors staying together. The other room had one guy and Goky moved in with him. Firoza told him clearly that one more person would be taken in as each room had three occupants. Two people slept on single cots and the third one on the floor. There were overhead lofts to store the luggage. The room was so small that even items of everyday use had to be put in the loft.
Gradually, things settled in and Goky adjusted to the routine. Initially, he ate breakfast at the PGA but soon realized that it was better to eat at the office because the cafeteria served a cheap and filling breakfast. Most bachelors ate their breakfast at work. A vegetarian breakfast cost around eight rupees and a vegetarian lunch eighteen rupees. Two days of the week, the cafeteria served chicken or mutton, and Goky waited for those days. Although the non-veg dish had just one piece of meat per serving, he relished it. On Saturday or Sunday, Goky would accompany his friends to roadside dhabas to eat tandoori chicken with roti. Before that, they would go and buy Golden Eagle beer and drink a bottle each. That is all they could afford. As time passed, Firoza added more offerings for her paying guests. This included beverages, sandwiches and omelettes on order, and washing and ironing of clothes.
The existence was, literally, hand-to-mouth. What his company paid him was peanuts—all of 2,500 rupees a month. Out of this, 600 went on monthly rent, 200 on other home necessities, 200 on commuting, and nearly 1,300 on food. That left barely 200 for miscellaneous requirements such as clothes and shoes. Existence was minimalistic.
As if this frugal living was not bad enough, the situation at work was challenging too. Those were the days of mainframe computers, and hardware was seriously rationed. Each trainee got a maximum of one hour on the computer (and that too in a queue) which operated all day and night. They wrote their programmes on paper, did the required checks on paper, and then used the computer only when their turn came.
The set-up involved completing training along with work. While the office was in the Nariman Point area, the training centre was in the opposite direction. Often, Goky would travel as early as 5:00 a.m. to the training centre, complete practice, and then go to the office. Sometimes he had a night shift at the training centre. On those days, he returned home to freshen up and then went to office. Even in office, all trainees were put in a single room with just a few basic desks and chairs. There was a huge table in the corner. Some of them ventured to sit on the table but were ordered not to do so by the admin head. Otherwise, they were their own masters with virtually nobody to guide them. Whatever programming they did, there was nobody to check it. They fended for themselves. But the bonhomie in the group of trainees was high in spite of the fact that each vied with the others for getting their visa stamped. They worked on group projects, and helped each other when required, including writing CVs and preparing for interviews.
This work environment, as well as his personal background, made Goky tough, resourceful, and determined to achieve his goal—to get to ‘El Dorado’, the United States of America. He had been in Mumbai for fifteen months when somebody from his project in the US vanished. In those days, it was not uncommon for software engineers who had gone to the US through one company to quietly switch to a better paying one. The gap between demand and supply was wide, and Indian software professionals were available rather cheaply. The on-site project manager sent an SOS to the Mumbai office asking for an immediate replacement. As Goky had acquired sufficient knowledge about the project and was good at his work, he had a fair chance. But at the last minute, another trainee, six months his senior, got the nod. While Goky was disappointed, he did not lose heart in the belief that his chance was not far. Finally, soon after he completed two years with ITS, his visa was stamped and he was on his way to the US. Nobody was prouder of this news than his mother.
His first visit to US was quite eventful. He had started on a Saturday night and reached New York thirty-six hours later. A colleague had co
me to the airport to pick him up and take him to New Jersey. ITS used to provide shared accommodation to youngsters—typically shared among four people. When Goky arrived, the apartment already had two residents, both from Tamil Nadu. As they had been staying together for a few months, the household chores had been divided between them. With the addition of Goky, the setup needed major changes. Both the Tamil guys were strict vegetarians. Initially, Goky had to agree to the rules they set. But luck was on his side. Within a week, another colleague joined them. He was from Orissa. In time, it turned out that he had several habits and preferences in common with Goky. They became friends. On the work front, after initial teething problems, he settled in nicely. Very soon, he started getting client appreciation for his work. Goky was a keen observer of human behaviour and picked up subtle and obvious cues equally quickly. Over the next few months, he distilled his knowledge into mantras such as:
•Talk straight and to the point. Americans dislike roundabout conversations.
•Meetings must start on time and with a defined agenda.
•Silent spectators are not welcome in meetings, unless they are observers.
•Keep your commitment, even if it is a casual one. If, in a conversation, you have promised to get back by the end of the day, do get back. It is unprofessional to not respond. Even if you don’t have the answer, say so; it will be appreciated.
•Don’t overcommit—which Indians are prone to doing.
•When you are at work, work. Don’t waste your (and others’) time gossiping around. The typical American reaches work at 8:00 a.m. sharp, breaks for lunch at the stipulated time, and leaves at the stipulated time. Beyond that they are masters of their lives. On the other hand, most Indian workers put in erratic hours at work. They have multiple breaks—for tea, coffee, smoking, or just for chatting. Then they stay late at work to complete even routine stuff.
•Even if your break is with a client, you cannot attribute delays in work to it.
•Learn to use deodorant. The poor hygiene of their Indian colleagues was common talk among Americans. Goky had noticed that some of his colleagues indeed smelled bad in office, as they occasionally skipped baths and often wore used shirts. Many of the smokers had bad breath and filled the area with the smell of burnt tobacco as they were not accustomed to using mouth-fresheners.
•If you are going for a cup of tea or coffee and meet an American colleague who asks you to join his or her table, that does not mean that he or she will pay for you. ‘Go Dutch’ is the rule.
•You get respect for your knowledge, skills, and attitude, not necessarily for your seniority.
These, and many more such nuggets of wisdom, were to stand Goky in good stead in his professional future.
***
The sound of breaking glass brought Goky back to the present. A waiter promptly cleaned the mess up and the party went on as before. Gradually, the participants started leaving. At around nine o’clock, Goky got into his car to go home. As he drove, the day’s events played out in his mind. Seeing a few droplets of water on the windscreen, he looked carefully and noticed a slight drizzle outside. He switched on the wipers and drove on. The rain became heavier. Raindrops fell on the windscreen, started spreading across it and then, suddenly, the wiper, in its swift synchronized motion, hastened their disappearance. Watching the repetitive movements of the raindrops and the wipers, Goky felt himself to be at the centre of a whirlpool inside his car, with nothing but water on all sides. Many years ago, Varsha and he had been stuck in a bus on the way to Pune in a heavy downpour. His concentration wavered for a moment, then a loud honk brought him back to the present. As he gave way to the vehicle behind him, he made an apologetic gesture in the air. The other driver smiled and raced past. Apparently, when Goky was lost in thought, the vehicle had veered to one side which prompted the other driver to honk.
Goky slowed down, pulled gradually into his lane and, after a few miles, stopped at a halting bay. He came out of the car, splashed some water on his face, and popped a mint in his mouth. He was a little worried that traffic cameras may have picked up his erratic driving. He had downed a couple of large pegs of whiskey and he knew for sure that he’d fail a breath analyzer test. He did some exercises, stretching his arms and legs and waking himself up completely. He thought of the bottle of perfume he always kept in the car. He sprayed some on. He hung around for a few more minutes before starting his car again. Luckily for him, there was no further incident and he reached home safely.
Varsha was waiting for him to join her for dinner. The kids were nowhere to be seen, which intrigued him but he did not probe for the reason. Lazily, he freshened up, changed, and came to the dining table which, oddly, was covered with a huge sheet. Even before he could ask anything, the house became a madhouse with the noises of bursting balloons, clapping hands, and whistling. The kids rushed out of their rooms loudly singing ‘Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday to dear Mom, happy birthday to Mom!’ Varsha had emerged from another room and was now hugging him. The atmosphere was charged with excitement. While he was wondering how he could have forgotten Varsha’s birthday, the bigger surprise was how his secretary and some of his close friends had forgotten it as well.
Varsha, with a knowing smile, said, ‘I told your secretary to keep it quiet. I just wanted to check whether you still remember my birthday or not.’ By now, she was grinning widely. Goky may have been a roaring tiger in the office, but at home, he was a rabbit. There was no doubt who was boss at home.
Varsha cut the cake Manav and Manavi had baked for her, and they all enjoyed their slices with more singing and dancing from the twins. Goky was still not over his bewilderment. Then the doorbell rang, and Goky’s expression registered further surprise. Scores of people streamed into the room with a loud chorus of ‘Happy birthday, Varsha!’ Then somebody screamed, ‘Let’s give Varsha’s birthday bumps to Goky!’ and before Goky could even look at each face, he was lifted off his feet and given bumps by their friends. Mercifully, they stopped soon—Goky’s frightened face and Varsha’s fear of him getting injured made the bumps less fun.
By now, Goky had understood that Varsha was the architect of this drama, and he liked it. It helped him lighten up completely and the party began. They danced and sang late into the night. It was good fun for everybody. Goky was the most relaxed person that night. Around two-thirty in the morning, the guests started leaving. Two or three asked to stay over as they did not want to drive back home after drinking. Varsha had already made arrangements for them. Everybody chipped in to clean the place up and stack the dishes, and the house looked tidy once again. Varsha’s fridge was full of leftovers they could enjoy for a couple of days to come.
Finally, when they went to bed, it was around three in the morning. The kids had already crashed. Sleep was nowhere near Goky as Varsha turned towards him, put her head on his arm, and asked softly, ‘Did you like the surprise?’
Goky held her close to him and said, ‘It was the best thing to have happened. I can’t thank you enough for managing the home and guests so well. I wonder if I’d have survived without you in my life.’
They lay in each other’s arms, reminiscing about past years, and their journey together. Sleep came, but quietly.
Point of No Return
Back home, Roma was expecting Sammy late in the evening. Seeing him outside the door a few hours earlier than expected, she was quite surprised. As she opened the door, Sammy dropped his bag on the floor, lifted her in his arms in one swift motion and spun her around. While Roma was screaming to be set down, Sammy was on a high. He carried Roma to the room where Koel was sleeping in her cradle. Hearing her parents’ noisy chatter, she woke up crying. Sammy quickly put Roma down and rushed to pick Koel up. Roma scolded him, saying he should first wash up as he’d been outside. Sammy obeyed and went to the bathroom. Roma picked Koel up from the cradle and realized that she needed to be fed.
When Sammy came in, duly washed, he saw Roma feeding Ko
el. He went and sat beside her. ‘Darling, I need to tell you something. I need to show you something.’ Roma asked him to wait for Koel to finish feeding. Visibly impatient, he moved to a chair. Roma noticed, and realized all was not normal with Sammy. She asked him what the matter was, but he stalled her. ‘Finish the feed and we’ll talk after that.’
Roma was quite tense by now and could not wait any longer. Koel had dozed off. Roma put her gently on the bed, tidied herself, and sat next to Sammy, anxiously asking what it was that made him look like he was in such a hurry. Silently, Sammy picked up his bag, took out the envelope and gave it to Roma. She asked him what it was but he insisted that she open the envelope and see for herself. She joked, ‘Is it your promotion letter?’
He quipped, ‘It’s more than that.’
As Roma read the letter, her eyes nearly popped in surprise and excitement. She asked sternly, ‘Have you quit your job at SVT?’
Sammy nodded and told her that he had resigned the day before.
‘And you didn’t even bother to consult me, or inform me, at least,’ complained Roma. Then followed a barrage of hurt feelings:
‘You don’t discuss important matters with me’.
‘You don’t even discuss with me matters which are going to affect the entire family.’
‘You keep things to yourself, as if I’m nobody to you.’
And many more.
Sammy listened patiently and tried to pull her into his arms. She pushed him back once, twice, thrice, but then relented. As he held her close to him, he explained that SVT had not taken his absences lightly, and had straight up told him that he should look for options elsewhere. He also explained how he had met the CEO of STM on a flight and had been given a blanket offer to contact him any time. He told her how he had called RG and had been thoroughly impressed by his words, and how the new job could open up the world for Sammy. He also took pains to explain that the offer was much higher than his expected CTC. Roma looked puzzled and innocently asked, ‘Are you sure it’s the right company to join? I hope their business is above board!’