The Golden Age of Satyam

Our Satyam Days, part VII

Devi, Suresh, and I eventually moved base to Satyam Technology Center (STC), which is several kilometres outside of the city and far away from our beloved Raj Bhavan Road city office branch, when Mandeep, Shiv, and GG departed. Balaji too moved to STC.

So it was in 2001: as all my colleagues began to leave, I remember being quite heartbroken by the move I had to make, unwillingly, to STC — it felt like the end of a long-standing relationship with someone or something I loved so much for three incredibly formative years had come to say a silent goodbye. We might not see each other again: that was a personal setback, and I'm not sure how I would handle it going forward. I was on the verge of tears those days after my colleagues parted from our Raj Bhavan Road office. Sitting alone in our beloved roaming division cabin with no one for company, I felt emotionally saddened and somehow felt considered like a shunned denizen pushed into some quarantine miles away in an uncaring alien zone. For the first time in my professional life, I felt no purpose.

Things began to seem indifferent and heartless: perhaps after three incredible years with my beloved colleagues, the harsh reality of the corporate world was finally catching up with me. Our days of laughter, fun, and friendship were over. If I wanted to keep the job, I had to move too. With great reluctance and heartbreak, I finally moved to STC to join Devi and Suresh, leaving behind something of a legacy that we were wonderfully a part of during our time in the roaming department.

Renju and Gnana, whose precious association I've missed ever since, pulled up stakes from our beloved workplace to a different office branch, as did Revathy and Rafi, whom I (and Mandeep, I think) could never meet (nor work) with again after 2001. And how could we, because 2001 was the decisive year for all of us: to ship out. Each of us has gone into history that may remain unknown but never forgotten.

Friendships hurt because we lost touch with each other years ago. I wish I could turn back the clock and rekindle all my cherished friendships with people from the Satyam era. Even though those bonds are still intact, I understand that my Satyam friends are more involved in their current lives, and their inclinations differ and vary. Everything changes, including friends, priorities, and things. Keeping up with life has also been a constant struggle for me — as if circumstances have begun to cast too many nostalgic aspersions on me, perhaps the same way as my former friends.

And since that day and ever afterward, Satyam's office branch on Raj Bhavan Road has always remained on my mind; the scenes play out in my head; I can still hear the voices and see the familiar faces: GG's come in bold-faced, double-chinned XXL (double XL). Throughout the years, those memories have always tugged at my heart. The truth is, I often reminisce about the years we worked there in that fifth-floor office, which brings a smile to my face but also a deep longing to relive those days again as I yearn to go back in time. With the roaming division closing, I couldn't shake the feeling that an era was coming to an end. It was an era, our era, indeed.

+*+*+*+

(I no longer visit this part of the city where we used to have our Satyam office. These days, I try to evade the surge of sad emotions that make me tear up in heartbreak if I drive through that cherished avenue of my earlier life, yet I always find myself in its unrelenting pull. Deep memories come flooding back: the memories of our time in that office tower are too much to bear — three years of fulfilling work life, enough to make them last for a lifetime. But not long ago, I had to ride along Raj Bhavan Road. I saw that our former workplace, the balsam-brown, T-shaped TSR Towers, was still there and had not been reshaped or remodelled like so many other structures these days, holding up nicely the harmony of the passage of time, albeit bereft of gleaming Satyam offices on the ground, first, fourth, and fifth floors. The old Peepul (Fig) tree that stood inside the compound wall where I used to park my motorbike... more than two decades ago... was still there, much wilted but offering plenty of shade and tranquillity. The building looked gloomy and mournful, agonized, as I stopped my motorbike in front of it for a minute or two, perhaps to take one last look at my former workplace.

Ever since the day we stopped going to our Satyam office, which had been on the fifth story of the TSR Towers on Raj Bhavan Road, I couldn't shake the feeling that the building itself felt our absence, had been as though silently awaiting us all these years, longing for the camaraderie that once filled its halls. It struck me that the hallways, corridors, passageways, walls, Nescafe coffee machine, green-marbled entrance lobby area, cubicles, cabins, and conference rooms, once vibrant with the laughter and energy of our team, seemed to yearn for our former group to return and work in its midst, just like in the old times when we would park our motorbikes under the Fig tree and walk briskly through the entrance to take the elevator to the 5th floor, where we had our shared moments, immersed in our memories of work, friendship, and learning. That day, as I looked up at the building and the familiar long-lived Fig tree, I wept tears of longing for my former office life that no longer exists. Everybody is gone, moved on to different worlds — Renju, Devi, Gnana, Mandeep, Suresh, Revathy, Rafi, Shiv, Balaji, and other familiar friends we met and shared an enriching IT experience at Satyam. Alas, time doesn't go back in time; I wish it had. We miss you too, TSR Towers, we do. But those days will not return. Be well and secure from the tough times we are living in. I rode on, leaving my beautiful past behind, my eyes tearing up. Those were the finest days. Oh, the magic of those days.)

“Tum mujhe bhul gayi ho lekin

mai tumhein ab bhi yaad karta hoon

mai tumhein ab bhi yaad karta hoon

…

Jinhain ek pal ko main nahi bhula

pana chaha sada jinhain phir se

Jinki yaadon ko pujta main raha

paya aur kho diya unhain phir se

paya aur kho diya unhain phir se

…

Samay ka dariya behte jaye

behte-behte kehta jaye

Jeevan ek sanghursh hai

Jeevan ek sanghursh hai”

Jagannath R. (shortened as Jagan) and Khan S. (Khan, shortened of course), two additional team members, had also left Satyam for good to find new opportunities. Jagan has relocated to Chennai to work for a multinational corporation, embracing the vibrant city life and career prospects it offers.

Meanwhile, Khan boldly ventured on a new professional journey to New York and was never heard from since. Khan: tall and dandy, thin and randy, good-humoured, always with a broad smile from ear to ear, with white permanent teeth gleaming in the lights of the cubicles of the roaming department, all 32 of them jam-packed side by side in an assembly line, piano keys all so white that not a single one was black. Khan of that Satyam era, of that brief span of a year or so that he worked with us (around 2000-01), could not get in touch with us, nor was there any available means for us to reach him. Losing touch with him was a bummer, and the absence of his landline phone number made it regrettably so. Twenty-three years have passed since he escaped to New York, likely to become the next Warren Buffett! And maybe ghostwrite a book, the title of which could be — Khantastic: My Escape To New York, fervently dedicated to Chicha, alias GG! Chalo enjoy! (Khan got in touch many years later. He phoned Mandeep, and there were plans for us to meet (with Shiv included), but it never materialized).

Mandeep called me many years later, most likely around the time Khan returned to India in 2006–07, to tell me that Jagan, who had relocated to Chennai after we had all sadly witnessed our roaming division's gradual expungement from Satyam Computers in 2001, had passed away in a Chennai hospital from a severe illness brought on by compulsive smoking and chewing hazardous gutkha pan masala. He leaves behind his wife and two children. That was the sad end of Jagan, our former Satyam colleague. There was no way of knowing whether Balaji, GG, or other Satyam colleagues who knew Jagan ever got to know about his demise.

Suresh and Devi, the financial experts, had perhaps spent more years in the company as Suresh shifted to the Vikrampuri branch while Devi continued to work at STC. As for me, it wasn't until I had worked for two more troublesome years, first at STC and then at the 'fish market' Vikrampuri branch, that I decided to quit Satyam.

+*+*+*+

Mandeep suddenly found himself drawn to the high financial compensation GG offered him if he joined the new company where he headed the division he helped expunge from Satyam. He decided to switch, permanently leaving Satyam.

After clocking in two and a half years of work experience, Mandeep did well envisaging his professional calling and quit our beloved company to pursue it elsewhere. I vividly recall his last day in office: after that day, he was not to return to Satyam.

[Except once, very briefly in 2003, when I tried to recommend him for a senior position in Project Management for a Management Information System (MIS) function in Satyam's 'fish market' Vikrampuri branch, where he would be planning, scheduling, delivery, monitoring, and reporting, as well as briefing business unit leaders and providing stakeholders status reports/updates, among other deliverables on the completion of IT projects. 

Sitting in the front office lounge, he waited for an interview. In a short while, he went through it. Eventually, he didn't see it through to the end. He and I felt that something was lacking; there was not much enthusiasm for the specified role as there had been earlier at the Raj Bhavan Road branch under the authoritarian leadership of GG, a man whom we called — let's say, as lovingly as could be possible, — Chicha. In retrospect, I thought it was a good thing he didn't take the job because, after a few months, I had put in my papers for good.]

+*+*+*+

Khan and Jagan had quit. Shiv and I were holding up tight. He and I were experiencing a period of apprehensiveness we were not habituated to: about how rapidly events had developed in just a few days, and we were still none the wiser about what may come. GG had already resigned and left, and Mandeep was about to. (Kavitha left a long time ago, becoming a part of an unsung history in which we all will have a chapter each, including GG's own).

Mandeep's turn had come, and he seized it. Balaji, the thinking man, moved to pre-sales at STC after having an acrimonious fallout with GG, which we knew was inevitable. Earlier, Renju and Gnana had also been transitioning to other projects, and when tomorrow comes, Devi and Suresh will follow suit. Renju's roommate Elizabeth and their bosom chum, Marilyn Thomas, were not seen or heard from again, as though everybody began to disappear altogether: There was never a chance to say goodbye to one another. (Maybe it's not always necessary to be so formal. Friends move on without saying farewell, and time passes...).

Before long, Shiv announced that he would put in his papers too and move on to other vistas, thoughtfully telling me to consider resigning. I promised to think about it, but he knew I was not too keen to quit Satyam yet because of how good things have been and how much the past years have meant to me as a young software professional, as a Satyamite. Shortly after, Shiv exited.

Taken away by GG and his opportunity-seeking organizational coterie, our beloved roaming division, which gave us a great deal of professional prestige and learning, ceased to exist. I found myself alone, missing the companionship of my dear colleagues with whom I had worked for three long years, equally allegiant to Satyam company just as I was. By 2001, everyone had left, and I felt lost and lonely without them and missed the work we did. 

GG happened to extend job offers to Devi and Suresh, but both quickly responded that they were not interested in taking up and turned them down. GG was unwilling to offer me a job position in the new organization he was running. If he had offered, I'd have turned it down outright, no question. Who would want to work with a gnarled and crusty man like him? Nobody. Once bitten, twice shy.

(To be continued…)

By Arindam Moulick

Also published on MEDIUM

Click on the above link to read.

Chronicles of The Cubicle

Our Satyam Days, part VI

In our roaming division, everything ran smoothly despite GG's rubber-faced, maniacal antics.

While a couple of domestic clients/partners were slow to respond to fix their own problems at their end, by and large, they fared better with us constantly nudging and prodding them. Our 16-hours-a-day, 7 am to 11 pm, 7 days a week responsive single-point-of-contact (SPOC) technical support provided remotely meant the world to them.

At the supporting end of the continuum, we at Satyam offered highly scalable services with state-of-the-art software platforms and technical expertise to elevate complete roaming analytics and financial settlement — in other words, a full engagement from start to finish.

As a Data Clearing House (in collaboration with our Denmark DCH and Cybernet, London partners), we facilitated financial clearing (a specialty from the desk of Suresh, Devi — from Hyderabad, and Michelle — from London), providing fraud detection solutions (Susanne's area of expertise among many others — supporting from Copenhagen, Denmark) and highly scalable, full-stack roaming operations services that establish compliance and operational excellence for our customers (Mandeep's and my domain areas — supporting from Hyderabad).

GG and Balaji liked to say, "We have come a long way," and reiterated in the weekly meetings that we had made significant progress with the accomplishments so far, a fact verified. Indeed, we did, as there were emails of appreciation and thanks, commenting that technical problems had been troubleshooted, files processed, reports made, software applications deployed, and so on. Everything went well in Satyam's roaming department, as it did throughout our association with the division under GG's aggravating, watchful eye and Balaji's (the thinking man) calm, logical sense of things. However, out of the blue, we all were caught off guard (rather quite shocked) when the owner-entrepreneurs of Satyam suddenly began to disagree on business matters: They agreed to disagree and disagreed vehemently. (Or was this one of the first ominous signs of Satyam's eventual debacle?). We loved our work — until the day the division stayed with Satyam Computers because everything radically changed from then on, and the year was 2001.

Given Satyam's tremendous reputation and standing in the country's IT sector — which was already making great strides in the global information technology industry — our small roaming department, staffed by young software professionals like us: Mandeep, Devi, Suresh and I (with substantial contributions from Kavitha, Shiv and others; not to mention GG and Balaji themselves as principal founders), was sadly deprived of its raison d'être at Satyam. It was as if they had severed the umbilical link and robbed us of the pride and dignity we had so skilfully achieved thus far.

As a spin-off, these so-called CEOs and super managers, who were supposed to be risk-takers, challenge-takers, and all that corporate bla bla, decided to forsake their business acumen and move away to start a new company while 'stealing' away the lucrative ventures they took pains to establish when they functioned under Satyam's fabulous trademark reputation in the IT market as a full-service software solutions provider. Welcome to the world of corporate skulduggery that super managers' owners' syndicate commit without shame or fear of damnation. Spin doctoring was at its best display! Greetings!

Within the span of a few months, we saw GG resigning. In place of him, a new noticeably-contrived individual (THE TADPOLE) is coming to handle our division while sending out self-serving feelers that he is the best our division could ever have: That the GG-era is over and out and the man we should watch out for today is the Tadpole, who is beginning to sound a lot like GG when he was in charge of the roaming division, albeit a fake imitation of GG, a counterfeit copycat of GG.

Confessedly, Mandeep and I, even Devi and Suresh, felt saddened and glum for GG because we wanted him to come back and lead our division again, just like in old times; never mind his stormy behaviour, he can restore it if he desires to — we cannot imagine GG without his loud mouth that shoots off faster than a rocket and at every opportunity he spots! But alas, that cannot happen; that never happened. There were inexperienced managers, such as the Tadpole, who took over the reins of the shop on its last legs, and nobody was expecting this young fellow to achieve anything meaningful for it. And he proceeded to wreck it just as we had anticipated.

There was an air of no one taking anything seriously. Not because we suddenly became unconcerned about what we loved doing but because of this inexperienced, rather bumptious rapscallion, who turned out to be a big let-down. The Tadpole acted friendly, but we saw through his pointless game. That everything got jinxed right from the get-go. He came, he saw, and he conquered no one. We believed that someone who was the complete antithesis of what GG was known for would emerge once GG left Satyam. Regretfully, the Tadpole was a cynical sceptic, much like GG, with stultifying managerial abilities that destroyed all remaining traces of our eagerness to continue to work at the roaming division. The Tadpole turned out to be a shifty no-gooder, as far as we were concerned.

Shiv chuckled at the new man's handling of our department's issues, and his spunky personality was one of the preparatory reasons Shiv decided to leave the pathetic tragedy of GG taking the roaming section away to another company. That was in the mid-2001. Devi and Suresh, the finance duo, were preparing to leave the Raj Bhavan Road office branch and, as of 2003, would never be able to return to this beloved office, nor would I. Balaji had shifted to the STC branch before I made my way there, as did Devi and Suresh. GG's departure had sounded a death knell to our beautiful way of life on the beloved 5th floor of the TSR Towers on Raj Bhavan Road. I can still remember those days we left behind.

Everybody started leaving Satyam: first Mandeep, then soon it was Shiv's turn. They were the first to move, followed by the rest of the team. Even that cartoonish Tadpole, who temporarily took GG's role and moved in for the kill, swiftly swam away to Satyam Technology Center (STC), saving his teeny ass from being trampled under the weight of changing times and unrealistic expectations. The TADPOLE foundered, ruined it. He was admittedly at a loss for options. Such scallywag types end up not having any.

As the tide changed, this smart-ass could carefully dodge the irrelevance of his job role. Kavitha was gone, parted a long time ago, a faint memory. One of the early members of our Roaming Division's original team, which consisted of just three software professionals — Mandeep, Kavitha, and Arindam (myself) — became a memorable part of the most favourite era each of us richly experienced at Satyam Computers Ltd.

(To be continued…)

By Arindam Moulick

A Bad-Tempered Old Devil

Our Satyam Days, part V

Wine and dine at the office cafeteria or alfresco with like-minded office folks, but never let your guard down at the workspace. Being careless at work is a strict no-no. Work matters the most, but so is your dignity and self-respect. Work the hours and speak in their lingo to support your work as a team member, so they—especially your manager, good or not, GG was never good anyway—understand you better as a professional.

Sometimes, you never know when your boss might say something hurtful that you won't find acceptable because they (like some office co-workers), like the bulbous-faced GG, are wont to think they're a distinct species who get to manage and supervise everything. As a result, the sheer gauntness of their ilk boosts bigger and bigger egos unrestrained. So, say upfront to him (or they) what you don't like being talked down to in a condescending tone, directly in the first instance and in the first sentence itself. (GG was the sole foul-mouther in Satyam.) There's nothing for later to tell; it's now or never. Unfortunately, I learned that much later in my professional life, not at that time.

Who's the boss! 

GG was an Old-Schooler dynamo, a Teflon man, a crass World-on-his-shoulders sort, and a Dictator of some managerial ilk who joined Satyam as a measly Consultant, not even a Vice President to throw his weight around the way he used to during those days in Satyam.

GG was the same shit, different day — a corporate badass boss unapologetically visible as a fly in the ointment, a Bio-hazard! Try pronouncing his name aloud: G G; it sounds like you're gnashing your front teeth to make a couple of single-letter vowels: GG. That's the word (a couple of letters only) he insisted we address him by. Sadly, this stingy, U.S.-educated boulevardier, of all people, was bossing our division.

He typically wore khaki pants and a white shirt, with a red tie occasionally dangling down, setting his shirt collars in a tight noose, giving off an "I mean business" or something like "I will throw you out of my office" vibe. The excessive verbosity of his language and working too ambitiously, even rigidly, about living his life on his terms outside the family line had, we believe, allowed him to look threateningly unapproachable to almost anyone who interacted with this allegedly self-made man, prompting Devi to once quip, "Idiot!". That's why, perhaps, he always appeared to be a hardass brutish. Carrying a cup of coffee, he prowled heavily into the East Wing through the green-marbled front office staffed by his favourite maiden, who was practically a loyal protégé in all of Satyam's branches, head offices, and headquarters combined, the perked-up front desk administrator of the office branch on the 5th-floor.

His beer-bellied paunch would protrude out like a gaunt prospector of grosser worlds he inhabits in his mind without much to care beyond his way in the world. This Colin Powell lookalike had a dome of a head that must have constantly groaned with ghosts and ghouls from the past days he spent somewhere out of the country westwards that came to haunt him like an implacable scourge when he returned to the Indian subcontinent: the return of the prodigal son with a misguided understanding of corporate culture. A fake sardonic smile that his gaunt face could contort (some long-hardened facial muscles twitching, that's all) and a barrage of inquiries and allegations he devised managed the trick for him to "come out of any situation unscathed." GG was a person whom we always saw as angry, impolite, and rude, words that define his professional conduct as disrespectful, inconsiderate, and inappropriate. In a nutshell, he was determined to show us who's boss.

Balaji was far off in his cubicle, ideating, brainstorming, calling clients, and assuring them he might turn up in the following week to discuss a few outstanding issues relating to roaming operations or financial settlement. GG would have given the 'green signal' to Balaji, the thinking man, to dash off to Delhi, Chennai, or Kolkata. If it is to Kolkata (Lord) Balaji is travelling to, why doesn't he get some Rasgullas from K C Das? A large tin box filled up to the brim with the juicy doughs! "Yes, GG!" Balaji would reassure GG. “Tin cans are convenient to carry and manageable to pack. So why not." Onward Balaji would go, flying to his destinations in two hours, per the long-drawn itinerary prepared ahead of his routine trips.

(Yet, everything was perfect in our life at Satyam because we made it that way. Making a deliberate effort to keep our vile manager at the farthest periphery possible and confining ourselves from his debasing influence was something we did every day. We loved our job because that keeping-away tactic worked in our favour. Yes, we all loved Satyam Computers and the work we accomplished there, despite having to report to a nasty, temperamental, miserly boor.)

One is bound to say this: With the knowledge and experience that GG gained from a dog-eat-dog, high-tech delusion of corporate covetousness and a misplaced delusion of some info-tech hinterland westwards of India, this absolutist controller of his own GG-iceberg set atop his atoll: our senior manager flipped into a misguided blokey character, hand-in-glove with Bingo Capitalism moments of the late 1990s and coming to hold a job position at Satyam!

Thanks to his convenient closeness to the super-managers of the so-called strategic business unit, the senior position worked in his favour, making it possible for him to head the business entity like a clipped phoenix ascending from the trashes... err... rashes... err... ashes of his earlier years of IT background! After nearly two and a half years (or more, who knows!) of unchecked whodunnit jiggery-pokery, he hauled the money-making business entity away to another company, hurriedly set up to accommodate this one, leaving Satyam's human resources unit high and dry in its wake, not to mention us: as we were put on, what they say as, bench, looking for internal job postings.

Yes, exactly the kind of HARI SADU you can spot from a mile away; that's right. Sometimes it's best not to tolerate that frigid nonsense and move on, leaving your stormy manager to his own devices, his dark materials. Live today to fight another day. That is a wiser reasoning you can give yourself as you try to focus on your work and drive home, hard done by the day. HARI SADUs of the world can come again tomorrow. It’s a professional hazard, I’m afraid.

(To be continued…)

By Arindam Moulick

Echoes of Yesterday

Our Satyam Days, part IV

A life without jokes would be boring. We can joke around a little, then.

Mandeep, a pecunious colleague, used to rise to the occasion using comedy as a norm of light-hearted and pleasant banter to relieve the GG-triggered heat off us all. He liked a friendly conversation with everyone at the cubicle and made it a point to turn around and greet a 'hello' or a 'bye.'

A man of substance and means, he is interested, competent, trustworthy, and understanding, with a penchant for telling Sardarji or Santa-banta jokes or Hyderabadi slang: a boundless treasure trove of funny one-liners, if you like. One had to hear them and laugh out loud.

Besides being a straightforward, uncomplicated man with infectious clarity, purpose, and intention that lent itself to his comedic bent of mind and the seriousness of purpose in life, Mandeep was a man of clear conscience.

Ecstatic, exuding passionate confidence combined with city-bred metropolitan sophistication, relying solely on his inner goodness of being, his ruthless wit, and strong camaraderie with friends around were all his high standards. In every way, he was the man of anything and everything, a world unto himself, having not a single unfunny bone in him.

(If he suspects someone disrespecting him, he has a rough-shod stock phrase, "Shut up, baap!" he doesn't mind using it on anyone at any time, making frequent use of it, and that too without much ado.) 

In my turn, during coffee or lunch breaks, I would pour some withering contempt on our staple whip-horse, GG, and throw in something intense and witty in the subtle way I knew and hope for laughs. There'll be chuckles at my jokes, but when Mandeep takes the lead, there'll be plenty more making top headlines throughout the day, and the constant laughing and banter had given many a bellyache throughout the day. (Without annoying anyone at the workstation, mind). It used to be laugh-riots during coffee and lunch breaks. Devi and Suresh would go ho ho ho, hoo hoo hoo, catching their breaths after bouts of genuine head-back roar of laughter and returning to their seats happy and feeling relieved. Yeah, sometimes, you will have to leave it to the professionals!

Here are some Sardarji jokes he shared with us: (I have found that these are publicly accessible online.)

• The Sardarni asked Santa Singh, "Santa darling if we get engaged, will you give me a ring?" Santa replied, "Sure. Why not?" "What's your phone number?"

• Sardar asked a girl to marry him. “But I'm one year older than you," the girl said. “Oye! No Problem Soniye, I'll marry you NEXT YEAR,” declared Sardar happily.

• Once a Sardar ordered a pizza, the pizza order taker asked if he should cut it into six or twelve pieces. The Sardar replied, "Six, please. I could never eat twelve pieces."

Humour intended!

Our collection contained a printed copy of various long and short jokes, including the hilarious shaggy-dog Ghanpatrai jokes, which occupied a whole A4-size page. There were also a variety of witty ones in chaste Hyderabadi slang. (The jokes presented below are available online.)

“Bhai baraf thanda nahin hai !!"

----

“Guy orders: Cafe Latté?
Ismail bhai: Haan laatu, kya hona bolo.
Guy, perplexed: Mocha?
Ismail bhai: Mauka to sabku milta saab, aapku kya hona bolo.
Guy, exasperated: Cappuccino?
Ismail bhai: Arre haulay cuppa kaiku chhinu main, terku kya hona bol re.
Guy runs away!”

----

“Uno Cycle chalate chalate pairaan dard hore bol ke bike liye,
Bike chalane se kammar me dard hora bol ke car liye,
Car chalane se pet nikal gaya bol ke gym join kara,
Ab gym me Cycle icch chalaraa !!”

----

“This is the most Hyderabadi thing ever:

A guy...

Goes to a restaurant
Grabs the menu
Scrutinizes it
Page by page
From soups to desserts
Till the end
Back and forth
Just to order “Bhai, Ek Biryani !!”

+*+*+*+

One last word on camaraderie: Entering into the orbital ring of Mandeep’s contagious camaraderie, Suresh and Devi would dig out a few of their witticisms. They shared them with such an uncanny flair that it was a welcome surprise to all team members, catching them telling jokes just as they did. Kavitha would roll her eyes and say, “Off foh... Deviii...!” Revathy and Rafi, our go-to support analyst duo, would smile away pleasantly, finding us in good Satyam spirits.

Whenever we shared humorous stories, our co-associate Kavitha, who hailed from the city's eastern corner and rode a peppy scooty, would be the first to giggle. Her laughter would gradually escalate into a full-blown amusement carnival. This quick-tongued laadli girl liked satirical caricatures rife with irony and sarcasm.

When Kavitha was in the 'afternoon shift,' and I in 'general,' Mandeep would be in his elemental best. He would create an amusement park of clever wisecracks exclusively for our ears, just for fun, making her laugh heartily and so hard that Revathy and Rafi would come running to our cubicle and inquire, “What happened...? What happened…?” Kavitha would often gleefully concede that, unlike Mandeep, she was not particularly adept at crafting or cracking jokes. Maybe a pun or two would pass muster, but she loved hearing them and having a great time, regardless of her own comedic abilities. Sometimes, our enlarged cabin became our little comedy club, which we fondly called the — 'Jimmings Club.' Jimmings — a pun term coined by Mandeep for 'eating with relish' at the Satyam cafeteria on the 6th floor.

At around 12:50 pm, when it's my 'general shift' for the day, Mandeep would suddenly burst out in hunger pangs, mockingly craving for lunch and jokingly bellow, "Yaar Arindam, chal 'jimmings' karte hai, mujhe bhayankar bhook lagi hai." — "Hey Arindam, let's go 'jimmings,' I'm really hungry." Kavitha would be bemused, but all three of us seldom went for a coffee break in the company's large, self-service cafeteria, with open counter displays and buffet line, Cadbury chocolates, ice creams, soft drink beverages, etc. 

Sometimes, when we needed a break from work to grab a coffee from the excellent Nescafe espresso machine in the corner of the 5th-floor hallway, he would playfully call out, "Chal peeke aate hain!" — "Come on, let's go grab a drink!" And then, looking at me, he would laugh while I pretended to be astonished by his impromptu suggestion for a... what…? A 'drink’...? Oh my God...! Even though I thought I had heard it right: "peeke aate hain!" in plain English means "Let’s have a drink!" The first time he said that I wondered why he said it. The next moment, he would add playfully: “Coffee re!" — "For coffee, man!" grinning as he felt he had caught me unawares. He sure did.

Where can you find friends like that these days? Our life at the Satyam of the Raj Bhavan Road branch was an incredibly immersive and captivating experience, filled with fascinating moments and unique encounters.

+*+*+*+

Kavitha thought about how she could pursue her goal of travelling to America as soon as feasible. Something had to give; she couldn't wait much longer, and why should she? She believed that nothing in this dump would ever get better. Our boss, GG, was a gone case, hopeless to the point of no return. Nothing ever good comes out of such an unreasonable delinquent of a person, so drop everything and move on. Goodbye, Satyam. Her plan had been a long time in the making, and perhaps she should be preparing her exit plans and quitting right now before GG throws a spanner in the works by denying quick separation from the company. Be gone before the old, forgotten things catch up and erode your focus from achieving your goal. Kavitha carried on laughing all the way to the bank, eventually.

From the beginning, she had every advantage. She saw her ideas through to completion and even gave back when needed, like paying it forward. But with our bad manager, GG, she couldn't afford to be overbold and make it worse for herself. Aside from the advice of her US friends and relatives, whom she knew she could depend on, she tried keeping herself informed about the most recent travel schedules or visa regulations: technical requirements that make a convincing case for it. Come hell or high water, she was well-prepared to make it to the United States. She was loving it.

So, to enter the United States, you need to spruce up your indigenous habits and customs and learn what you think you can do to fulfil your objectives and other things in unfamiliar terrain, a foreign country. When it comes to other matters, you have the self-confidence to do the talking for you. For that motivation, her straight-backed, flowy hair was often sequined, either left hanging in a ponytail or contriving to look like a live Boa Constrictor or just left languishing like a prehensile tail, snaky in shape and lustrous black. Her tufty hairdo must be employed in tactical TAEKWONDO-ish self-defence, coming into use to asphyxiate anyone at any time or knocking out of their senses. Correspondingly, her height lends her a personality most Satyam ladies could only dream of, never achieving even an iota of her knock-out self-possession. So everybody, kindly back off, don't even think about it.

Occasionally, she found enough motivation to tame her frizzy tangle of hair, cutting it short enough to leave it cascading down her shoulders like a lush valley in the Amazon rainforest. At first glance, her sleek hairstyle looked quite hip and happening. But upon closer inspection, as you adjust your already so gung-ho pupils on her trendy hairdo existing just meters away, you might discern a distinct stray hair or two swirling around her temples like smoky incense sticks escaping a trail of jet-black smoke upwards in glamorous curls. Regardless of what you want to flaunt, her thick, kinky hair was spick and span, hands down. When you have a fetching mane like that, you get around and even effortlessly navigate your way to the United States of America. Easy-peasy.

+*+*+*+

In the insistent march of time, I never thought that I'd leave Satyam or that Satyam would leave me. The first three years of my life there were so memorable that it never occurred to me to quit and look elsewhere for a 'better job,' a higher income, or anything else that would suit my interest as a young IT professional. The truth is, nothing was better than Satyam. Not even close. Hardly were there any other IT firms that could match the one I was working for; there was no point in looking around. None of our team members wanted to go beyond Satyam, except Kavitha, whose passion was to make it to the US and not look back once she was there. She did just that: scrapping all GG-explicit dump yards of drudgery at Satyam in favour of a good life overseas. American paychecks were generously better than GG's beggarly handouts at the end of the month. To each his own. However, for us folks, looking out was a sacrilegious deed no one wanted to commit, least of all me. Because working at Satyam was a dream come true, Mandeep, Devi, and even Suresh had no interest in looking out. Bizarrely (or not so much of that), we became so happy despite the 'almond' (contrary to 'peanuts') payscale never coming our way! Either continue to work for Satyam as a poverty-stricken church mouse or relocate to the US of A as a hopeful alien, as Kavitha did. The choice is yours to make. Hence, in pursuit of happiness and the meaning of life, Kavitha fled to America, and whatever came after was hers to count (the dollars), and whatever followed had to follow (even if there may not have been much of a friendship, it was lost to the world forever).

That's how it was. Nothing ever changes unless you let it.

(To be continued…)

By Arindam Moulick

To read the first part of this series, click -> Memory Crossing

Also published on Medium.