Food, Fun, and Friendship

Our Satyam Days, part XXI

Even today, I can recall, with much excitement, chuckling under my breath as I do, the first time we started chatting on a chat platform from the new internet company's website, Sholay dot com. It was the start of the dot-com bubble that peaked in 2000 before it burst a year or two later.

Everyone took the brand-new trend seriously: striking up conversations with strangers we would typically never meet! In an era of real-time chatting and instant messaging within the newly evolving digital world, this mode of having small talks with someone without meeting face to face felt incredibly thrilling.

In today's world, social networking sites are so commonplace that the original concept, which once captivated us with its new-age tool for instant communication, is taken for granted because it is so abundant everywhere. And, in consequence, it has become rather dull but handy. That's how the world works: old giving way to new. That's nothing new to feel sentimental about it unnecessarily.

Those experiences were truly unforgettable. Shiv often used his first name to chat with strangers on the forenamed website. For example, ‘Shiv’ or simply as ‘Prasad’ or other variations to keep things regularly 'intriguing and mesmerizing' with his giggly gang of girlfriends, whom he courted each day in his increasingly busy life of dedicated 'bird watching' that had led our Enticer Shiv to get tagged with the nickname I (with proactive participation from Mandeep) came up with 'Joey.'

[To pull his leg with jest and banter, Mandeep and I once decided to play a prank on our associate Shiv, who came dangerously close to earning a reputation as a new-age, beyond-sexy, Casanova-like Emran Hashmi, a hands-on Lothario — a ladies' man, a modern-day Prince Charming, a veritable Don Juan. So we began sending emails filled with 'love and longing' to his personal email address from a newly created account: Joey at gmail.com. He responded enthusiastically to all the emails we sent him, mistakenly believing that someone named 'Joey' was sending him intense love letters. Some of the emails we sent were explicitly graphic in content, while others were straightforward, as in 'coming directly to the point,' appealing to his masculinity! Mandeep and I used to find ourselves hooting with laughter while we read his strong expressions of love something along these lines — 'Can't imagine my life without you, Joey,' 'Oh Joey! You're the one for me, let’s meet soon,' even this wild, untamed lust: 'I'm wild about you, let’s meet,' 'Don’t wish to live without you one moment,' and on another occasion this consuming desire: 'I'm so crazy about you.' All imprudent, lousy, yet seemingly passionate replies to the enticing email messages we sent him daily, and in one of his emails, he expressed his most secret desire: to meet up with 'Joey' at a public park of Joey's liking! Now take that! That, of course, never happened!

Before things got overboard and became overly serious for Shiv, who was mislaying himself in an emotional reverie, Mandeep and I ultimately intervened to rescue our colleague from an impending catastrophe escalating in ways we had not anticipated Shiv would get to this crossroads of his new love life. Soon after, Mandeep and I decided things with Shiv were getting serious, saying, "Aré Arindam, kuch karte hain yaar, yeh toh too much hogaya, warna yeh toh aape se bahar ho raha hai! Let's do something. Otherwise, it will slip out of our hands!" So we quickly settled to reveal the truth behind the fictitious 'Joey' we created to pull his leg or to hang noodles on his ears while praising him for the fun ride we have had at his expense by telling him conciliatorily, "Areh! Yeh sab mazak tha re, bas aur kuch nahi, ok! Take it easy! Look, it was all a joke, nothing else, okay!" Fortunately, Shiv was a good sport, bearing it all with a long-faced, tight-lipped, tacit grin that was only to be seen to be believed!! 

Shiv knew no bounds in his experiences of love and longing, including his other potentially typical desires that he felt not a wee bit challenged to overcome every day. He was a beer-drinking teetotaller, unique of that ilk. Naturally, he courted a googly of gurls daily because he knew how to fall in love instantly with anyone who might show a reasonable interest in him. A selfless Love Yogi who welcomes female relationships with wide arms! In the style of Shah Rukh Khan in Dilwale Dulhania Le Jayenge!]

+*+*+*+

Mandeep occasionally typed in a boy's or even a girl's name, such as Shiv's moniker ‘Joey,’ to playfully tease some overexcited dudes getting overly friendly in the chat. As for me, I chose names I thought were funny, just like my colleagues, like ‘Rimjhim,’ ‘Okavango,’ and ‘Soosooagaaya!’

The name ‘Rimjhim’ practically danced off my keyboard during our chat. I found it endearing to note that it piqued Mandeep's curiosity so much that he leaned in closer, eyes sparkling with curiosity and with a naughty twinkle in his eyes that only comedic humourists like him can only manage with their twitchy eyebrows raised at you in a mock, questioning, mischievous grin, "Oye! Where did you find that girly name? Areh! Ye naam kahaan se mila re? Kitna beautiful naam hai," he asked. "It's such a beautiful name!" (I could feel the enthusiasm in his voice as he savoured the sound of the girly name, which brought surprising delight to our conversation whenever I invented other funky chat names to use for chatting).

‘Soosooagaaya’ or ‘Susooagaaya’ was another hilarious name I came up with. It was my invention! Seeing that name in the chat, Shiv and Mandeep first chuckled before erupting into laughter, howling for several minutes until they caught their breath. At which point Shiv exclaimed, “Oh my god! What got into you? That sounds really quirky if you ask me!” and continued laughing, adding, “But it’s a good one! Quite funny,” to which I responded, “Thanks Shiv, I’m glad you found that funny. I knew I was funny!”

Mandeep chuckled heartily. “How did you think of that name? Tereko susoo agaya? Did you feel like peeing?” he asked. I couldn’t say anything as I laughed with them, momentarily speechless, unable to react amidst the mirth while lost in the laughter.

Just then, someone pinged me on the chat: “Soosooagaaya? Who are you?” and someone said, “Hi, Soosooagaaya!” before realizing the meaning of the name, “Soosooagaaya!!!….. Hahaha... hahaha…!!! Nice name!!!” Mandeep, Shiv, and I all chatted on that chat platform as if there was no tomorrow.

[Our impromptu chatting sessions lasted for a month or so before we grew disinclined to continue in that manner. Work started dominating the professional landscape day after day and week after week, becoming increasingly timed for continuous delivery and meeting set targets within daily time frames. We moved on after losing interest in chatting with the outside world, as it were.]

Shiv, Mandeep, and I typed furiously, almost pounding our keyboards as we engaged in a lively conversation ranging from humorous, serious, and often even playfully hectoring chatters with lively rhetoric, making the conversation entertaining, exciting, or frequently quite silly. Internally, within the organization, we used the official chat system to intercommunicate with Devi and Suresh, whose cubicles were on the other side of the building in the West Wing. Mandeep and I frequently joined them in one chat session after another, filled with energy and enthusiasm that knew no bounds. Those days were so much fun: the era of fun, friendship, and food.

While Revathy, Rafi, Gnana, Renju, Elizabeth, and Marilyn moved on without a farewell, Mandeep and I furthered our chance to continue our friendship for a bit longer before turning incommunicado for over a decade and a half now. Unfortunately, we may never cross paths again. If they do, it will be better for it.

(To be continued…)

By Arindam Moulick

The Joy of Attending Weddings

Our Satyam Days, part XX

Once, Mandeep and I drove to the Hotel Raj Classic Inn to attend a colleague's wedding reception. It was a fine evening of some signature good food and enjoyable socializing. Then, at another time, our colleague Revathy also tied the knot. Mandeep and I received invitations to both her wedding and her reception.

After arriving at the iconic Taj Mahal Hotel for Revathy’s wedding reception, we headed for the elevator to the terrace garden on the top floor. To elevate my fragrance etiquette, I wore two Eau De Cologne perfumes on my Peter England shirt: Denim and Brut—the latter of which Mandeep gifted me for my birthday, while a few months earlier, in November 2000, I had given him a blue-check White House shirt for his birthday.

As we stepped outside into the banquet hall, we walked to the stage to warmly greet our happy-looking colleague Revathy and her feeling-blessed husband amid a lively gathering of guests, women among them admiring Revathy's bridal silk saree adorned with intricate zari work to an awe-inspiring effect. After enjoying refreshingly fizzy lime-based cold drinks, we mingled in the exquisite atmosphere of the beautifully decorated banquet hall adorned with elegant floral arrangements, twinkling fairy lights, and stylish table settings. We then enjoyed a sumptuous buffet dinner featuring a variety of fresh salads, meats, and fruits, all elegantly arranged on the glossy marble-topped tables, which was quite a delightful affair.

+*+*+*+

On another occasion, I found myself in a tastefully decorated function hall in Ramachandrapuram at BHEL Township, where the serene and warm ambiance captivated all the admiring attendees present. Even the children were calm and remained in one place despite their usual tendency to be active and dash about the hall.

The lighting, the sofas and chairs arranged in a gentle curve around the hall, the carpeted floor, and the stage—where the bride and bridegroom's families were about to receive guests—were all generously decorated in a way you will instantly appreciate: Adorned with shimmering draperies and delicate motifs, the exclusive use of natural flowers instead of plastic ones created a photo-worthy floral wall on the dais.

Ramachandrapuram was very far from our office on Raj Bhavan Road, so recognizing that travelling by motorbike would be tiring and out of the question, Mandeep decided to bring his club-hopping businesswoman aunt's ever-dependable beige Maruti 800, allowing ourselves to drive a long way to reach the venue in the far northern suburbs of the city.

+*+*+*+

Devi, Suresh, and I attended Mandy’s brother’s wedding reception at the Hotel Taj Banjara sometime in 2001/2. Three or four years later, Mandeep married at the Taj Holiday Inn (now Taj Deccan). Our former boss, GG, was also there with his wife. He was, as usual, in the garb of his boastful and pompous self while looking for a drink or two that the waitperson was serving on the lawn, whereas I observed that his wife chose not to drink. If memory serves me correctly, Devi and Suresh continued working at Satyam for several years after I had left, and in that time, a lot of water had passed down the bridge to a different era, with Mandeep moving on to other vistas; I moved on to a different city to join Wipro.

I often wondered how Devi and Suresh continued working at Satyam's STC office branch without the companionship of Mandeep, myself, Shiv, or, for that matter, GG or Kavitha, who quit Satyam after she got the opportunity she was craving to go to the U.S., where everybody was going at that time and still do so typically even today. Our old memories gratefully never really leave us: they cause a powerful, continuous impact on our way of life ahead. I can only imagine how emotionally haunting those wonderful years on the 5th floor of TSR Towers on Raj Bhavan Road must have been for them or all of us. Despite my distress before and after shifting to Satyam's premier software development facility called Satyam Technology Center (STC), I can only imagine how Devi and Suresh coped with such a sudden change to STC, especially considering that the roaming division on Raj Bhavan Road, where we had all collaborated for nearly three years, was dislodged from Satyam and transferred to another company. How did Mandeep and Kavitha move on without adequately addressing our need for nostalgic memories of our time in Satyam, specifically since we haven't discussed it, which raises this question? While I can't comment on GG regarding the beautiful memories of Satyam, his sense of nostalgia must have been entirely non-existent, akin to a big zero. Even though they had long since shifted from that unforgettable office location—Devi remained at STC while Suresh, like me, eventually moved to the Vikrampuri office branch—it must have been, as it had been personally for me ever since I left my beloved workplace on Raj Bhavan Road, heart-breaking to carry those specific memories in their hearts while continuing their work at different locations and earn a living. Then I realized that not everyone is as nostalgic as I am, which might explain how they manage it the way they want. Others may have a harmless opinion about it, that's all.

The truth is: In the deepest corners of my soul, I still harbour the emotional remnants of the old Satyam era we have all been a part of and have experienced together, and this reflects in many ways a fundamental aspect of my persona—deep feelings of nostalgic longing for the past.

+*+*+*+

No sooner had I entered the open-air marriage lawns on the right, far side of the expansive Taj Deccan than GG called out, "Hey! Arindam. How are you? Come sit with us." I immediately remembered what Mandeep had mentioned on the phone while inviting me to his reception party, "Chicha would also be there! So, better watch out! He he!" But I reassured myself that enough water had flown down the bridge and enough distance of passing years had been put between him and us, so therefore, I could handle that familiar old ghoul, no problem.

But the instant I saw GG sitting like a bulky Hulk-like figure across a vast table covered with white linen, I remember my body's (un)sympathetic nervous system kicking in; my valiant resolve of steadfastly saying ‘no problem’ had gone kaput. 

My shirt clung to my back with hot goosebumps riddling all over. Sighing internally for having been singled out like that just when I stepped into the lawn area, I had no choice but to take the seat he indicated with an outstretched hand to take the cue and sit in the chair opposite him and his family. I thought to myself: "Never was he this courteous to anyone back in that day, so why now? Lagta hai Chicha soodar gaye!” But then I questioned, internally, can he be this jovial? Really? Something’s definitely fishy! But as I sat there, smiling and chatting with my former ‘worst nightmare’—the one whose masterclass in extreme bossism writ large over our Satyam days, and clear for all to see—I recalled our days at Satyam under his authoritarian administration (read regime) and how it was so curt and snappy with him at the helm of all roaming operations back in the day. In the end, however, I couldn't shake the feeling that he hadn't changed. He never changed. He is the same as he always was; no change whatsoever. Outward appearances are always deceptive. In GG's case, it jolly well was. Once a vile man, always a vile man. GG will never change. Period.

Although he now behaves nicely, thank God he is no longer the boss. Otherwise, nothing could stop him from being his Hitleresque best, his typical bearing of the evil in the world of gruff bosses, even at a party like this, missing only the toothbrush moustache on that hefty Colin Powell lookalike scowling face!

Afterward, Devi, Suresh, and Jagan arrived. They must have met GG when they entered the lawn, but I didn’t enquire about it. We all met, chatted for a while, and took a short stroll towards where the buffet spread on the long dining tables set in a curve on the promenade. I looked over to the stage where Mandeep and their family stood in position to welcome the politely tardy guests, gracefully delayed!

That was the last time I saw Devi, Suresh, and Jagan. A couple of years later, I learned from Mandeep that Jagan had migrated to Chennai, where he was doing well in his IT career. Unfortunately, just a few years after settling down there with his wife and newborn son, he passed away due to severe gastrointestinal disease: a result of extreme medical complications caused by drinking binges, chronic smoking, continuous chewing of paan masala, and habitual swallowing of gutkha. We warned Jagan numerous times about the ill effects of consuming such toxins, but he never listened.

Devi and Suresh, once passionate friends, were unwilling to be in contact. Shiv and Shahnawaz lost all about their old friends within a few years of leaving Satyam to pursue their goals elsewhere in the ever-expanding urban sprawl of this inhumanely overcrowded city of Hyderabad.

(To be continued…)

By Arindam Moulick

Broken Love

Our Satyam Days, part XIX

Among the good things lurked an aberration of a friend's deceit:

Jealousy and envy—a dangerous tandem of mind pollutants for any offense to others—are classic examples of how they can unleash profound emotional disturbances and wreak havoc in people's lives. It can be that serious. When these emotions become intertwined or mutually exploitative in a person's misguided thought processes, or when they have 'self-centred' opinions about a 'situation' (that was not of his making), they can damage relationships so severely that they may never regain their former innocence nor do they get to mend: whether they are only a day old or have persisted for months or years.

Contrary to what Kavitha tended to think, she quickly had her staunchest ally, her best friend Una Artoran, on her side as she became snug within the noxious belief system rug that people in her part of the world were partaking in, and like a classic case of a ‘Tandavi’ in the gory act of metaphorically shooting down the flight of dreams, which were those of her friend Una and her beau, fumed to the teeth, shattered the hopes they were beginning to have for a bright future together, that Kavitha, in her moment of, what shall we call it, frustration and fierce anger boiling inside her, unfairly jumped as though straight off the cliff of the gross conclusion her close-minded pettiness could fathom that one of her colleagues might have a thing or two or might be involved with someone named Ann.

Kavitha felt her best friend was in for a sure-shot betrayal or some hare-brained similar nonsense that nobody needed but her; thinking this to be a red flag, Kavitha, who was constantly in the habit of becoming green with envy just on a whim, browbeaten Una's unwary, easily deceived sensibilities.

Strange that Una found no compelling reason to check out the sickening antecedents of her so-called dear friend Kavitha, who was perhaps taking her life to go down blithely in a very different direction altogether than she would have wanted had she continued living in this town.

All this ho-hum absurdity instantly provided our colleague Kavitha her spicy gristmill fodder for well-deserved stressful spells, even as she sat bolt upright like a WWE's Undertaker or a strict nun stirred up abruptly from her sweet sleep in her office chair, burning with vengeful jealousy, racial animosity, and begrudging resentfulness, all colliding simultaneously in her fervently paranoid brain as she began frantically to make phone calls which she did throughout the day, desperately misinterpreting a reality so obvious she could never bring her mind to believe: No wonder then that the bare truths were twisted out of proportion for swift consumption for whom so ever concerned in her lunatic enterprise, dispatching her prejudiced sermons one after another first over the phone and then in person to her staunch ally, her bestie who worked at a financial organization situated on the east side of town, and who—unbeknownst to her: that her so-called fast friend Kavitha's unfortunately wrongful bent of mind worked overtime to commit a professional level of immoral hara-kiri that no one could suspect or feel anything of, least of all Una herself—had been driven to relocate to another state down south, and abandoning a blossoming relationship of the romantic persuasion during those brief but unforgettably beautiful months that all but had perished like a premature love fruit right before all our eyes.

+*+*+*+

He poured his heart and soul into his dream of Una, the girl of his waking life, who, as he fondly recalled those days, sparkled in the enchanting moonlight of '98 when the evening sun was slowly dipping below the horizon. He treasured every passing moment, anxiously waiting until she arrived at the little underground coffee shop, his heart racing with anticipation.

Catching a glimpse of her face at the coffee shop and in that ephemeral moment of sitting enthralled like a star-crossed couple opposite each other at a romantic table, he felt captivated. Her lips formed a delicate, straight line that slightly curved into a pink smile, radiating an enchanting quality that seemed almost magical-surreal to belong to this world of immortals. A soft, warm blonde light glowed within her beautiful, alluring persona, creating an aura of magic and elegance that defied conventional beauty perfections of the time. Her curly hair framed her face like falls of shining silk, accentuating her luminescent dark eyes and adding to the allure surrounding her fairy-like persona…

…Sadly, a few months thence, he found himself surprised, entrapped in the cold, unfeeling shadow of an unfulfilled fantasy love story that didn't go so far as to stop hoping for Una altogether, still holding close to her lovely memory as nothing short of a lifeline. But it also meant running up against Kavitha's cunning deceit, which severely damaged his relationship with Una beyond all hopes of the redemptive power of love, which he somehow knew was only a novelistic trope, and there's nothing else to it. His little dreams for the future with Una had suddenly become unattainable and elusive. With each passing day, he became more entrenched in the steadily accumulating memories of the past while his dreams slipped further and further away from his grasp. Their love was beautiful, a love filled with joy. However, his colleague Kavitha's perfidious intentions shattered everything he and Una had just started to build together. 

Time will heal the wounds of yesteryears, although the heartbreak never fully mended.

+*+*+*+

The world around him remained indifferent, just like Kavitha and her ilk had been toward his most cherished dream of Una: never coming true and being forgotten gradually. As he grappled with the raw vulnerability of his unfulfilled prospect of trying to be true love, he felt the emotionally draining consequence of disappointing friendships of her kind weighing on him as if the heavens were falling and the end of life had been a long time coming. None of those beautiful dreams had come true, and deep within him, a troubling reflection of reality had finally emerged: How could they ever come true? And what was he thinking?

Here's hoping against all hope that, at least now, Kavitha can see things clearly, enabling her to resurrect the flawed beliefs that fooled her before when she worked with us at Satyam. While it may not change the past, it no longer makes a difference. But still.

(To be continued…)

By Arindam Moulick

Note: The account presented above is merely a product of my imagination—a mosaic crafted from the spectre of idle thoughts, which I concede are often whimsical or downright peevish, playing tricks on my mind, nothing more than habitual thought processes running on autopilot in me, if you will. 

I'm barely tethered to reality anymore.

The Sweet Anticipation of Wedding Bells

Our Satyam Days, part XVIII

During those days, as we attended numerous wedding functions of our Satyam colleagues who regularly got hitched first and fell headlong into holy matrimony, a couple of associates curiously inquired about our matrimonial prospects, addressing both Mandeep and me, "When are you guys getting married?"

Of course, I didn't blush. On the contrary, I would have blushed anyway, no problem, before coming up with an appropriate answer to that personal yet interesting question about my relationship status! Blushing is helpful; even "blushing the blush," self-consciously blush-blushing, causing one side of your cheeks to turn kinky and the other pinky! Kinky and Pinky cheeks!

I once articulated something laborious, as is sometimes my way, and that also slightly more colloquially than anyone would have cared: No Antony will do for his Cleopatra, no Romeo for his Juliet, and yet no Othello would do for his Desdemona, or so I had believed, perhaps a little too superiorly than required for just the simple task of replying to a straightforward question someone had the undue gumption (just kidding) to enquire about whether I am a potential future matrimonial aspirant! As my close smart-alecky Satyam colleague, Mandeep would have wanted to phrase it, his face screwing up slightly, smile askew: "My Big Fat Hyderabadi Wedding." He said those words. And that means something's up! So it's going to be very soon. Huhn-Huhn!

Instead, I remarked meekly: short-shifting apologetically, withdrawing into a shell, retreating like a whispered secret, and so on, as is sometimes my style, "We are budgeting right now, ensuring we save enough for my impending doom!" That's not precisely, I admit, a response worthy of a standing ovation (Oh, what high thinking!) as far as the department of eloquence or the gift of the gab is concerned! Duh!

Fortunately, he laughed at that reply while I pondered something wittier to say but cheerfully offered this line instead: "Soon! Very soon. You'll receive my invitation!"

And that was that. Or so we thought!

Once Ann Mary R. or Mary Ann (or vice versa), better understood as GG's protégé, a deeply enchanted Chocophile with an uncannily profound attachment to imported chocolates and candies that GG brought for her unfailingly from his quite a few trips abroad, decided to stop by our cubicle. She often did so whenever she could.

Mandeep immediately perked up to say, "Aur Mary Ann? Roz ario!?" (So, Mary Ann, are you coming daily [to the office]?) She laughed for a full five minutes—I mean, she laughed like she had never laughed before, thinking about what had gotten into Mandeep to say it in such a funny way! That was really so hilarious! 'Roz-Ario' was her surname, and Mandeep took that apart to ask her if she was coming daily or 'daily coming' (that is, to the office)! Yeah.

After sharing a hearty laugh, she lingered for several minutes around the cubicle, then turned to Mandeep and teasingly asked, "So, Mandeep, when are you getting married? When's the big day?"

Mandeep had a witty repartee ready and replied, "You are asking me? How flattering!" He then added, "Any day now! Yeah."

Ann Mary giggled and then laughed again before turning to me with a curious expression. "What about you, Arindam? When can we expect to hear about your wedding plans?"

I responded jovially, "Nice try, Ann," then added, "You're invited, regardless of whether GG attends!" She continued to giggle and laugh out loud, as she often does.

Before Ann Mary R. returned to her front office desk, I asked her when she was getting married, was it sooner or later? She responded with a facial expression that conveyed the evasiveness erupting like a deep sigh through the looming life-long odyssey of being in wedded bliss, rough sleep, drawn to the kitchen whipping up... err... preparing meals of bread toast, jam, and mutton pies, fruit custard and plum cakes, and finally, giddying implication: a teasing suggestion that it would happen shortly. Mandeep and I understood what she was ultimately trying to convey!

Before the year was out, she married her long-time beau, who, we thought, must have kept up a doubly good vigil on her right from the first day these two became serious as a couple. Her beau often came to the office to check in on her, as did her mother once. She and her beau had everything planned from the start: they were betrothed and had it all set for the impending nuptials, leading to the sweet anticipation of their wedding bells arriving sooner rather than later. Better now than later?

+*+*+*+

To this end of the discussion, I would assert that Devi was spared from a personal investigation because he was already happily married and had two school-going kids, while Suresh, although on the verge of, as we often use the phrase: 'to tie the knot,' marrying for reasons not so incomprehensible to Mandeep and me as of that date in time, remained single yet.

The phrase I once used, "impending doom," must have sounded very ominous to Suresh, even as he recently took into consideration his going in for the long haul, such as committing to the idea of marriage and whatever comes after that: destroying your bachelorhood, for instance! Has it not been so? Never mind that. I was only joking, whether funny or not!

Enquiry over, she headed back to her reception desk.

(To be continued…)

By Arindam Moulick

Jokes, Jingles, and Team Spirit

Our Satyam Days, part XVII

And then there was Mr. Maruti, a Satyam colleague whose name we only knew vaguely, as he was working on a different project. He was a part of the same team as Revathy and Rafi, the legendary software duo who simultaneously supported our team of three, and then it grew to be five, as well as theirs.

It takes a lot of courage and an outstanding skill set to achieve what they did. Likewise, it should be acknowledged that—I hope this doesn't sound over the top—Revathy and Rafi were truly exceptional women with whom we had the privilege of knowing and working at Satyam.

Through the flexible, hands-on practice and personalized approach that Revathy and Rafi provided, we learned new software tools, best IT practices, data analysis, and codebases within our first month at Satyam. Their omnichannel support strategy enabled us to identify and resolve the technical issues we encountered daily. A confession: They helped and trained us to spare us from GG's wrath!

A Day in The Life at Satyam

“Maaaruuuti Maaaruuuti… Jale Kum, Tale Zyada!” was the catchy television ad jingle of the popular oil brand Maruti in late 1998/99. Once, while working in our spacious cubicle, we overheard someone yelling one of our associates Maruti's name from across the great hall, trying to catch his attention: "Hey! Maruti garu."

Curiosity piqued, Mandy and I exchanged a conspiratorial grin, sharing a knowing smile as if internally deliberating on the possibility of making up a joke for only the two of us that had arisen like an urgent necessity. Mandeep voiced, "Don't you think that name sounds familiar? Huh?" "It does, indeed," I responded excitedly. I could tell that soon he would be concocting something in the form of a joke or something: I could sense that his germane mind of jokes and jingles was already in the throes of wriggling and brainstorming, as though looking for an opening just like this one to joke about for a while, for he had something up his sleeve and would shoot out anytime now. 

“Kuch soch raha hai tu?" "Do you have something in mind?!” I said a little too enthusiastically for a grown-up.

“Yeah...you know... I love the fact that I do! You know it, don't you?” said Mandeep, revealing the broadest conspiratorially-inclined smile ever while composing an email delineating roaming issues to Susanne with a cc-copy to GG and Balaji.

Just as I had supposed, his eyes twinkled, just as the meeting place of his brows twitched a little with the usual enthusiasm he had been known for: a typical Sardarji style, if you like, ever since we joined Satyam on the same day.

Meanwhile, I gulped and blinked rapidly like a proverbial fish (called Wanda?), even as we kept working with our hands hammering away on the computer keyboard: programming, shooting emails, messaging on the official chat window, creating marketing reports, troubleshooting, rectifying errors, doing 'R&D' as it were, along with numerous other things — all for the love of keeping up with the daily targets and deadlines!

As we started jesting with one another, I recounted the ad jingle, which went something like "Maaaruuuti Maaaruuuti… Jale Kum, Tale Zyada!” 

Mandeep corrected me humorously and said, "Are nahi re! Bol (Say): Tale Kum, Jale Zyada!” Ha ha ha... 

Hooting with laughter, we would sing the ad jingle the other way: "Maaaruuuti Maaaruuuti... Tale Kum, Jale Zyada!"

---

Mr. Maruti was exceptionally easygoing, a software engineer who never knew how to be rigid in his working style. Characterized by his subtle approach to work, he had a simple, approachable persona that made it easy for anyone to connect with him on various levels. Though we never had a chance to work together on any project, his subtle disposition preceded his equally outstanding work ethic.

At the workplace, he stood out as an incredibly courteous associate, always willing to lend a hand to help others and thoroughly gracious in the way he carried himself. I still remember his inviting us to the Exhibition Club to celebrate his wedding, which Revathy and Rafi, the dynamic software engineering duo, also attended. Mandeep (alias Heartlight) and I decided not to miss attending the function, which we had been looking forward to until the day it finally arrived. Before starting, we went into GG's cabin to get his express permission, and thank God, he shook his head knowingly and enunciated the words haughtily: "Okay! You can go." 

(Expending more energy and saying something more sociable than "Okay! You can go" would have been appreciated. Yet, since the man is called GG, we couldn't have expected more than superficial sociability or anything beyond a shallow level of friendliness from the boss-man! What were we thinking, everyone?)

Permission granted. We eagerly hopped on our bikes and set off to the central part of Hyderabad city to attend the marriage function. Not to mention enjoying the sumptuous marriage lunch that awaited us there! After savouring a delightful spread of fresh preparations and desserts under the awning drenched in the daytime sunshine, we returned to the office and resumed our tasks. Knowing I had a long shift that would stretch until 11 pm, I settled back into my work schedule while Mandeep wrapped up his tasks of preparing reports and other things to leave at 6 pm, which marked the end of his general shift timing. (I can’t say for sure whether Mr. Maruti had been aware of our little joke about his name, but I am sure he would have burst out laughing finding out how we altered the original lyrics of the ad jingle to “Tale Kum, Jale Zyada!”) highlighting our playful twist on the familiar tune.

+*+*+*+

Finally, in the story of our team's spirit and camaraderie, there was this person, Bhavani, who, despite her serious demeanour, was very cordial and distinguished by her substantial IT experience, played a tiny part unknowingly in our jovial tendencies. As expected, when Mandeep heard someone calling out her name in the large hall (where our cubicle was located, in the East Wing), he immediately perked up while smiling in my direction, hummed, "Bhavaniiii Junction… Bhavaniiii Junction!"

Sitting there giggling, I thought my colleague, nicely parked on the seat of his chair beside me, was amusing in more ways than one; his entire personality brimmed with humour. In other words, his whole persona teemed with funny jokes, riddles, and great laughs! No one could match his exceptional sense of humour. The line "Bhavani Junction..." was from an old Hindi song featured in the Hindi movie "Bhavani Junction."

Given our surge of enthusiasm for Hindi films and music—one of those highly energizing preferences, in my opinion—boys (going on to be men) like ourselves have always been in good stead while keeping up positive morale at the workplace. We were all equally upbeat about our professional life at Satyam.

(To be continued…)

By Arindam Moulick