This Is "IT"

“Sir, I am planning to go home this June. I have booked the flight tickets. Kindly grant my leave. It is only for 5 days, my father stays abroad and he’s coming home, and……….”

“But you are new to this project. And you test data prep count is so low.”

“Sir, I’d be able to enhance my efficiency if I get a training session.”

“You are not trying to learn. When other juniors can write queries, then why can’t you? Just think about it. I don’t know anything. If you need to extend, then extend. If you need to have working weekends, then let it be. This is not a training program. You are here on your own, you have to learn it on your own.”

“And I am sorry about your monetary loss but please reschedule your vacation if possible. The project needs you at this moment.”

I wake up with a start. It was already 7.15 a.m and I must catch my bus by 8.

I gaze at the ceiling, calm and white. I stare at it for some time, thinking about my hereabouts in life.

I think about my grandparents, old and lost. Lost to the cold hands of time and death.

I might not say this, but I miss my grandparents. Last Sunday I was at the movie theatre and there was this old man in a white dhoti and kurta walking in front of me, being guided by his little granddaughter. For a moment, I felt like grabbing that man from behind and giving him a big hug. I had this huge temptation, but I decided against the heinous action.

I might get slapped in public for harassing poor old men, I thought. Hey, but one day I’d also get old!

The mere thought of being in my 40s shuddered me.

Imagine me, a 40-year-old single woman with greying hair and a bulging tummy, a wrinkled face and a lonely heart.

Then my thoughts rush towards my parents, about how hardworking they are, how much effort they still put on me so that I can become a successful human being (if ever I am considered as a human). My mother’s face dazzles in front of my eyes. How beautiful she is. There is sweetness even in her anger. There is her pride even in my failure. The image of cooked fish tickles my taste buds and I fall in love with my mom all over again.

My eyes mist. I want a big hug. But I’m 1600 kms away from her, trying to eke out a living in another city.

I still remember the day when I had been to the Office of the Engineers Association at my place. I had my medical counselling scheduled there. It was a long queue and I got a seat in a private medical college. I had my own swag back then. My sensible brain always decided to listen to tons of shitty advices that my surroundings had to belch on my head, and I’d gratefully gulp it all down.

“There is no career if you graduate from a private college. They aren’t doctors, they are quacks! They don’t know anything! Drop a year, and go for a government college!”

Now when I see my friends doing practicals and posting their statuses proudly on Facebook on cadavers and dentures, I feel defeated. I feel cheated by my own soul. I try to run away, but this is, my friend, the love for Biology, that outlasts you even though you try to outrun it.

I wish I had put my head to some better use apart from banging it on walls!

I take my bath in a haste. My hair is unkempt, and my skin dry. I put on my Kurta and rush to the bus stop.

Life at office can be interesting, if you view it that way.

One day, I merrily announced to my girlfriends that I wanted to visit the local zoo. One of them said, “You go to the zoo every day and see so many unique and creepy creatures. Isn’t that enough for you?”

Well, what do they say? Beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder.

I walk towards my seat with a heavy heart and an empty stomach. Migration requests, Bugs, status and security mails. I quickly go through all of them and unre

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ad Skype messages, if any. There is this extensive list of Test Case IDs waiting for their Employees, so I pick up the not-so-fortunate ones and start working on them.

I open my SQL Database and lo behold! As usual the system is slow, the workload huge and the time short. I roll my eyes in disgust.

Fast forward one hour. The screen is proudly showing off its flaws, and I am here, trying to comprehend the issue with my limited, disinterested intellect.

“Employer Class Coverage not found”

“Invalid identifier, Error at line 31, column 12”

What the hell is this!

I never shy away from asking help, and so I frantically text and call up everyone on my favourites list of “Skype for Business”. Their response to my distress call is equally chaotic, but anyways, this is corporate life and we manage with whatever we have. We are great managers, I must say because we work around a puddle even though we need an ocean.

I try my best to resolve the issues, but sometimes, things don’t fall in the right places. They just dance and jump around the screen, and mostly give me headaches and occasionally, heartaches.

Once again, a tear trickles down my face, but here I am not alone, there is this crowd of developers and testers, furiously banging at their keyboards, their eyes glued to the screens, their right hands at the mouse. No one knows what’s going on, yet everyone has this great spasm of dedication plastered to their faces, waiting for the second last working day of the month.

No one seems to notice. I quickly wipe it off.

Happiness can be found in the darkest of the places, only if you remember to switch on the light. These fireflies are known as friends. These beautiful, yet demonic angels share tablespace with me for lunch every afternoon. We never miss a session and are always updated on the latest jokes and gossips. Ah, what a life 

I have this common Indian fantasy of a handsome guy bumping into me and then I, looking at him. There’d be romantic music in the background, with a gentle breeze that would scatter my hairs all over the place, and I’d gracefully tuck them to the back of my ear, my silver dangling earring stuck firmly to it.

I’d kill him with my smile.

The guy would look at me, his mouth open. He smiles back sheepishly too.

Hundreds of employees and 385 days have passed but this scenario has never ever happened to me.

The clock strikes 6.30 p.m. and I am done for the day. But then my senior tells me to sit down and finish the work.

“We need to submit this by EOD.”

“But it’s already 6.30, I’ll miss my bus.”

I look back at the clock. It is 9.30 p.m. already, and my tummy is growling with hunger. I look forlorn and depressed.

My senior looks back at me. She is a beautiful woman with a pale face and a thin body, her eyes red from all the efforts on the work. A highly dedicated employee. Extends her shift almost every day without expecting any extra perks and never asks for leave despite of illness.

“Do you know to code?”

I tell her the story of my campus placement. The Cognizant story. This interviewer started on a great note, asking me questions on friction and kinetics. Then he came straight to the point.

“Can you write a program on how to remove all vowels from a string?”

“Sorry Sir, I can’t write programs.”

“Okay then. Thank you very much!”

I ended my story with an air of superiority. “I am from the Mechanical department. We used to bunk our programming classes.”

“Oh, then you know, you should think of another profession. You won’t survive in this industry if you don’t like coding.”

I come back home, tired and confused. I don’t know what is going on.

I close my eyes and count my days to see the oblivion.

EOD.