The wait for the end... Part 5

After a controllable flood, damage worth a few million rupees and despoliation of a few suburbs, the monsoon showers of Mumbai seemed gratified. The city’s commotion was upbeat. The schools and colleges were buoyant. The taxi drivers, rickshaw riders, fruit vendors, pedlars floated about the city. Not a chance of making a few bucks was missed. The “Spirit of Mumbai” was restored. The rains did manage to do considerable damage but even after determined efforts, it could not subordinate the Mumbaikars.

Neeti had taken an off from office for more than a fortnight now. Her boss was vexed. Her colleagues were worried and Ramu was perturbed. She had switched off her cell phone for long durations for most days. When the cell was switched on, the calls went unattended. Reaching Neeti had become a major concern in the office and a catastrophe for the handful of friends Neeti had. Sushant, her suspicious boss, even offered her an unbelievable hike and a tempting promotion in the near future. But Neeti, instead of jumping up with joy, turned down the offers and reassured Sushant that she had no intention of switching companies. Ramu made a short trip to her flat, while on an errand and returned disturbed himself.

On a certain Wednesday, Ramu noticed that Neeti’s cubicle phone had been ringing incessantly. He decided to receive the call the next time the phone rang. In a matter of few minutes, the phone did ring and Ramu, without wasting any time, picked the receiver and pulled the cradle nearer.

“Hello! Neeti’s desk.”
“Ji hume Neeti se baat karni hain.” There came a polite reply.
“Aiyo Sir Neeti nahin aaya office. Woh nahin aayega kuch dino ke liye”
“Acha? Aisa kyun?”
“Sir details nahin malum. Aap kaun bolta ji?”
“Ji main... Main unka ek dost hun. Kashif. Woh mobile bandh rakhtin hain tho maine yahan call karna munasib samjha.”
“Kya samjha Sir?”
“Huh?? Woh... tik samjha”
“Oh wokay wokay. Sir woh cell phone bandh karta hain. Disturb nahin hone ka thoda time.”
“Ji acha. Shukriya! Khuda-hafiz.”

The conversation left Kashif in a tizzy. Ramaswamy’s words played over and over again. What could have gone wrong with Neeti, after all? He imagined the worst. Every second seemed more and more difficult to pass. He looked up at the ceiling, stopped his breath for a few seconds and shut his eyes. The sound of his silent breath also seemed disturbing. He took off the Rolex watch from his left wrist and placed it on the table. He felt the urgent need for silence. Vanilla-plain silence. In a few minutes he opened his eyes, replayed the recent telephonic conversation for the umpteenth time and gauged the options he had. He could choose to sit and wait, till Neeti took her time and then approached him. Or he could go to her place, uninvited and even feeling unwanted. He knew himself too well.

The drive from his Worli apartment to Bandra seemed never ending. The minute Kashif reached Neeti’s society premises; he shoved the car in some corner on the road, without even glancing if it was a ‘No Parking’. He took huge steps and reached the floor where Neeti lived. He was about to knock the door when suddenly he felt a receding force within. Thoughts of what Neeti would think came gushing down. She could think he was prying. Or maybe even acting like an opportunist. He sat on the first step and looked down at his slippers. It now occurred to him that he had rushed in his ordinary slippers, he had carried no wallet and to top it all, he had worn lemon yellow pyjamas. Here he was just a knock away, from the love of his life, dressed perfectly for a slumber party.

Some self-reprimanding and gritting of teeth gave Kashif the courage to knock the door. He knocked it lightly the first time, as if to make sure he had the courage to do it again. Then the second time he hit the door a bit harder. There was no response. He knocked even harder. This time, a petit voice called out “Who’s there?”

Kashif realised he had to act cheeky now. If he mentioned his name, the door wouldn’t open, obviously because none of his calls were answered or returned. “Bill madam”

Neeti didn’t bother to look through the peep hole. The reply convinced her to open the door. When she did open the door wide enough, she saw Kashif stand in front of her. She looked him in the eye, turned back and went into the kitchen. Kashif came in, closed the door behind him and sat in the corner of a sofa, scared and alarmed.

Neeti had grown pale. She looked different. Her complexion had grown a few tones lighter but didn’t glow. Her nose was red and the skin was worn out. She had developed a cognisable amount of dark circles and looked ill. Kashif heard a few harsh coughs from the kitchen. Neeti walked out with a tray of two steaming mugs and placed it on the side table. She handed Kashif, tea and had prepared coffee for her herself.

“Mujhe pata hain aap chai peete ho, coffee nahin.”

Kashif looked at the small girl sitting in front of him, who had grown even smaller in size now. He didn’t know what to reply to the meticulous observatory remark Neeti just made.

A long pause of silence prevailed. Neeti sipped endlessly till she finished her cuppa.

“Yuhu! I finished first... Main race jeet gayi.” The feeble attempt to make merry was dismissed by both. Yet Neeti smiled. Kashif opened his mouth to say something just when the door bell rang; a furious ring this time. Neeti hurriedly opened the door and saw her neighbour standing.

“Oh! Hello Uncle!”
“Neeti your guest has parked his car on my lot. Please ask him to move it.” The reply was curt.
“Sorry Uncle. He may not have realised.”
“Where should a man in his late seventies find new place to park his old Bug? I have been parking there since 30 years now.”
“Sorry Uncle.” Neeti didn’t need all that talk at this time.

Neeti quickly informed Kashif about the problem. He, without wasting a minute, picked his keys and went to the door. Suddenly he turned back and said to her “Neeti chalo!”. There was no asking or pleading or requesting. It was an order. Neeti didn’t attempt to disobey. She instead obliged him.

A few quick steps and they reached his brand new Chevrolet sedan. Neeti didn’t notice the change in vehicle and stood next to the car. Kashif unlocked the car remotely and sat behind the wheel; then told Neeti to get in. Neeti numbly sat next to him and uttered no word of reluctance. Kashif drove smoothly and seemed disinterested in the new car or its features. This car, for now, seemed nothing more than a utility.

After a whole hour of driving and utter silence, with the exception of a few horns of other vehicles, Neeti spoke.
“Woh aaya tha. Kuch din pehle. Mere ghar pe.” Neeti kept looking ahead, into a huge zero.
Kashif gave her a quick look, just to make sure she was comfortable talking about this.
“Hamari kaafi behes hui. Woh ek hafte pehlese hi Mumbai mein tha par usne call karna jaayaz nahin samjha. Aane se pehle bhi usne call nahin kiya.”

Again a hurtful silence prevailed. But this time, not for long.

“Maine usse pucha hamare future ke baare mein. Pehele tho usne kaha woh tayar nahin hain.”
Neeti choked. There was nothing that could hold her tears back. She wept.
“Maine fir zor diya. Aur usne saaf mana kar diya. Woh apna career banana chahta hain. Main uske aade aa rahi hun.”
The words she uttered killed her from within. She grasped how difficult it was for her to say this; whereas for Aman, the same words spurted like a casual ‘Hi’ or a ‘Hello’.

Kashif stopped the car near the Marine Lines. He knew this was the only place she would want to be. For that matter, any person who lives in Mumbai knows that Marine Lines is the place where you can be yourself without any glitch. Happiness, sorrow, joy, anxiousness, remorse; you could share all of it with the Arabian Sea. The sea takes in all that you give it. It listens like a loving and patient grandmother. Occasionally, it does reply with a gush of water.

Neeti sat on the famous Marine Lines platform. She didn’t face the wide ocean today. She rather faced her back to it and sat looking at a tall building housing a plush seven star hotel. Kashif stood with hands folded-crossed in front of him.

“I love him. I want to be with him.”
Kashif needed no translation. He knew what it meant and that hurt.
“Neeti usse firse ek baar baat karlo.”
“Kashif woh nahin chahta mujhe abh. Woh mujhse duur jana chahta hain.”
“Neeti kya main usse baat...”
Neeti looked up at him immediately and promptly replied “Nahin. Kabhi nahin.”

Neeti began wallowing. The situation seemed to grow worse with her cries. Kashif sat next to her and kept a hand on her head. He let her cry. He placed her head on his shoulder, took out a white, neatly folded handkerchief from his pocket and wiped her face. Neeti wept harder. Kashif’s T-shirt was partly soaked at the right arm corner. He didn’t flinch for a second. He sat still, still keeping his hand on her forehead. He felt helpless. He knew this period was there to stay for a while. And it was painful and would grow even more in a few days; not only for Neeti but for him as well. After all, love is like a crescendo. For the fortunate ones, its’ like the periwinkles which never cease to bloom; but for the unfortunate or unlucky ones, its’ like an incurable cancer growing within, quietly and secretly, deceiving and making illusory promises.

Neeti’s soft weeping continued and Kashif knew the wait for the end had begun.

The wait for the end... Part 4

The monsoons in Mumbai seemed eternal. There was no stopping. The government officials had already sent out a flood alert and advised people not to go out of home for a few days unless inevitable. But the seasoned Mumbaikars have a unique way of tackling rains. Their policy is simple, “When you can’t beat it, join it.” That is exactly what they do. This rubs on the new-comers as well and within no time are they ready to tackle the next rains.

But as the saying goes, “There are exceptions to every rule”, this one has one too. Neeti! She tried every possible thing on earth, even Yoga, but nothing could calm her when it rained. One day it dawned on her and she gave up trying. But it was too late and she had caught the flu already. Cold, cough, stuffy nose and red eyes, Neeti was full of it. She grew paler by the day and her voice had cracked. She sounded funny. Some of her colleagues called her “Local SRK”.

It was a dull afternoon and the Sun had conveniently hid behind the clouds. Neeti was loading the pictures from her camera onto her desktop machine. She was browsing through the pictures she had clicked. Just then a voice said “This one is very good”. Neeti turned to the familiar voice and smiled at Ramu. He was always in awe of Neeti’s sense of originality, creativity and excellence. “But Ramu they aren’t enough. Our boss thinks otherwise.” Neeti looked at her boss’s cabin and frowned.

“Don’t consider his opinion... He’s a sadist.”
“Unfortunately for me, that sadist decides my promotion and hikes.”
“Hmmm. Why are you loading them on the desktop? You never do that. ”

Neeti giggled. “Ramu my camera is becoming heavier, every passing day and I can’t bear to carry its weight”. There was a laugh in the adjoining cube, which meant an acknowledgement of her small joke.

Ramu grinned. “Neeti I got to go. See you later.”

“Yup! Bye Ramu.”

After four consecutive sneezes, her colleagues requested her to call it a day. Neeti agreed and packed her bag. She slipped in her camera, a pen drive, two books and her cell phone. Within 10 minutes, she was downstairs looking for a rickshaw.

“Auto!!!” she yelled in her cracked voice.

The rickshaw took a turn and came to where she was. She asked him if he would drop her to Bandra. The rider signalled her to sit. She quickly got in and told him exactly where she wanted to go. The rickshaw rider rode like he was on a horseback in a battle. Neeti shut her eyes, sneezing every five minutes.

In thirty minutes Neeti was home. She took in a deep breath and placed her keys on the table and flung her bag on the chair. She threw herself on the bed, bouncing once. She had a lot of time in hand and didn’t know what to do with it. She made a few calls and asked for some medicines and food to be delivered. Within no time she was asleep.

The door bell rang miserably. Neeti jolted and realised she had to get the door. She dragged her feet and opened the door. The delivery boy handed her the parcel, tendered the change and left.
Neeti quickly had the food and drank a lot of hot water to give her sore throat some solace. She looked at the medicine bottles and tablet strips and frowned. After a lot of convincing she tore open the strip to reveal a white tablet. She was all set to have it just when someone banged on the door.

Neeti’s eyes opened wide. She wasn’t expecting anyone. And it wasn’t a bell ring; instead it was a bang on the door. This was reason enough to be suspicious. In Mumbai life is so planned that there is not a minute to let in an unexpected guest. Every minute has a task to be done. Time flies off here like an eye blink.

“Who is it?”

“Open up Neeti.”

Neeti went cold. The blood was drained out of her face. She recognised the voice and opened the door like a robot.

“Aman!” she exclaimed.
“Who else were you expecting?”
“Well, you could have called up before coming.”
“Its’ ok Neeti. I just came to see you. I felt like SEEING you, its’ been long.”
“When did you come to Mumbai?”

“A week back.” The reply was very casual. And it cut through Neeti’s heart in a way that she felt a lump grow in her throat.

Aman pushed his way inside. He sat on the sofa and sighed relief.

“The rains are horrible. I don’t know how people manage all this.”

“Well it depends on person to person. For me, after such a long time, I still haven’t learnt to.” Neeti sounded acrimonious. The words had a pun. And Aman didn’t miss on the hidden meaning. He pursed his lips.

“Neeti I have been missing you crazily. But I have been so tied up with work lately. I don’t have time for anything.”

“But somehow you do have time to spend with your friends.”

“Neeti that is the only thing I do other than work. Come on yaar. Can’t you see me happy for some time?”

“Why have you come here Aman?”
“I thought I told you already Neeti. Let me repeat it for you. I came here to see you.”
“Well, in that case you should leave. You’ve seen me enough now.”
“I fail to understand you.” Aman almost shouted. “When I call you, you are rude. When I don’t call you are hurt. I’ve come here to see you and you are asking me to leave. What do you want me to do?”
“Aman, you know what I want.”
“God! You are impossible. I told you I need time Neeti. I am not sure about anything now.”
“Aman its’ been 2 years now. How much more time do you need?”
“Neeti I need a glass of water now. Nothing else would do. Please fetch me one if you can.”

Neeti paced her steps towards her small kitchen and fetched a glass of water. She was all worked up. There are some situations where God helps you. And there are some where God tests you. But this situation seemed none of the two types. There had to be a new category for this one.

These are like one of those times, where you have been forced to play tennis and you haven’t even held a racket in your hand ever before. The one at other end by default is an ace player and smashes the ball towards you with full vengeance. The ball passes by you leaving you gaping with agony and shame, rocket zooming and questioning your very existence.

Aman called out to Neeti loudly. Her chain of thoughts was suddenly broken and she quickened her steps outside and handed him the glass of water. She knew what she should say and what she would say. The difference in both made her stomach twist and turn.

“Aman we need to talk.” Neeti looked Aman in the eye and said it firmly.

Aman understood the seriousness of her tone and realised that it was no time to beat around the bush. He had to answer her.

The wait for the end... Part 3

The pre-monsoon showers had just begun in Mumbai. The city was bustling with even more energy. Men went to work early to avoid the rains and the subsequent traffic commotion. House wives made desperate attempts to dry off clothes. Children didn't spare a single puddle; they jumped into them and brought them to life. Life seemed to be faster to anyone who looked at the city from outside.

But the rains didn't seem to agree with Neeti. She made all possible attempts to avoid getting wet. Unfortunately, all the tactics she used went in vain. The rain poured down when she left for office and back for home. She had no respite. She despised travelling to her office, especially during this season.

"Ramu I hate rains" One day, she suddenly proclaimed. The lull in the office was broken and people gazed at her like she had declared that she was going to change her citizenship.

"Aiyo Neeti Amma, rains are good. They help the environment, clean the city. They are our farmers' best friends." Ramaswamy made a futile attempt to convince her. He wanted to cheer her up. After all, he had noticed that since past 15-20 days Neeti received a phone call and ultimately landed up crying. The rains only added to her misery. He sometimes let her mock his accent. In fact, on rare occasions, he even mocked himself. Neeti laughed but he knew it was ineffectual.

"OK Ramu, I'm leaving. Have to cover the Mumbaikar's shopping spree during monsoon. I wish they wouldn't shop, at least during heavy downpours. Like that I wouldn't have to cover them." And she laughed, really loud. She bid a bye to Ramaswamy and hopped her way down the stairs.

She helped her camera catch glimpses of people in Bandra, Dadar, Churchgate shopping away to glory. The rain never seemed to exist to them. A group of young women in saris, presumably newly married , came out of the BSNL office. They bobbed about the stairways, chattering and laughing, unaware of the fact that Neeti was stealthily clicking their pictures.

Around 6 pm, Neeti reached the Marine Lines. There was no rain now. And the sky had turned slightly red. She clicked a few pictures of the setting sun and the sky. She was very tired and decided to spend some time alone there, watching the waves hit the shore. Within no time, her cell rang. She saw the number and recognised it.

"Hmmm. Hi, how are you?" said Neeti without even listening to the caller.

"Neeti, my love. Yaar I'm very busy. You should understand. There is no need to be irritated. Whenever possible I call you. What else do you expect?"

"I don't know what to say to you. I fail in the every attempt I make you know. I am fed up."

"Why are you always cribbing like this? Is there nothing better you can do? Yaar my job is not as simple as yours. All you do is click pictures here and there. You have your freedom. As for me, I have to meet targets. Set examples to my sub-ordinates. Make reports. Present quarterly reports. It gets on my nerves sometimes"

"Hmmm. Anyways. Have you called for anything in specific?"

"Well yes! I need a favor yaar. I won't be able to meet you tomorrow and all I want you to do is understand. Please Neetu bacha."

By now, Neeti choked. She was swallowing her tears. All she could utter was "OK".

"Oh you know you're my darling. Thanks girl. You're an angel!" The line cut without any goodbyes.

Neeti remained still. Her face did not twitch. But her tears gushed down. She didn't put an effort to wipe her face. She was still motionless.

From no where, she found a hand on her shoulder. She turned back to see an elderly woman.
The woman smiled and sat next to Neeti. Neeti suddenly felt quite awkward and hurriedly wiped her face. The woman didn't speak a word. Neeti made a feeble try to convince her that everything was alright.

"Aunty its’ all ok. Situation under control!" Neeti laughed.

The two of them saw the Arabian Sea engulf the Sun. After a few minutes, Neeti stood up to go back home. She picked her things, put her camera back and began to walk.

After two steps, she turned back and said, "Thank you Aunty. I felt nice. Goodnight."

The woman smiled brightly and said "God bless you. Goodnight."

By the time Neeti reached home, she was drenched. Her shoes were soiled. She quickly cleaned up and prepared a soup. The cell phone rang.

"Hello Madam I'm calling from TTFC bank. We're offering you a loan for ..." The female voice was a typical one. She spoke endlessly.

"Well my dear, I'm ready to take your loan but you will have to come and cook for me. Chalega?" Bang! Neeti laughed. The phone rang again.

"Neeti! Kaise ho aap? Lagta hain hume koi bhool gaya."

"Kashif! Oh my God! Its' you. Wow. Pata hain main aaj kaafi akela feel kar rahi thi. Aaj ka din acha nahin tha. Matlab acha tha but acha nahin bhi tha."

"Neeti aap ko coffee ki sakt zarurath hain." Kashif spared no moment. He laughed.

"Chance pe dance." Neeti laughed. "Chalo aa jao Bandra."

"Main wahin hun. Aap ke ghar ke neeche. Aao jao aap jaldi se."

"Yaar you are tho too good... Ek dum TGV ki tarah."

"TGV? Acha woh!!! Haan haan. Sahi. Abh please neeche aa jao."

"Pehle admit karo ki aap ko TGV nahin samjha."

"Ji?"

"Haan meko pata hain. Chalo bolo."

"Aree magar... OK tik hain... Nahin samjha."

"Coming!"

Neeti quickly rushed down. Kashif saw her and his mouth opened doors to at least a million flies. Neeti was uber casually dressed in blue pyjamas and an over-sized T-shirt. She looked stunning. No kohl. No lip balm. Nothing. She was in her natural form. Kashif saw that she had a few dark-circles. But that only added to her light skin tone. Her hair was left untied, probably even uncombed, and blew with the wind as she hopped towards his car.

"Sorry Kashif, meko firse change karne ka mann nahin kiya so..."

"Ya Khuda! Itni khoobsurati kaise sochi tune... Tayar ho ke aaye tho janab hum katle-aam ho jaate."

Neeti smiled. She sat in the car and again smiled at Kashif.

Kashif wished to run away from the female at once. He wished he would have never called her in the first place. He drove like he was in a trance. The woman next to him was the most beautiful creation, he felt, of the Almighty. Every single opportunity he got, he tried looking at her from the corner of his eye.

After a long drive, they pulled over at a coffee shop. Neeti ordered for a cappuccino and Kashif decided to sip on tea. They spoke very little. He noticed that Neeti was not jabbering today. They spoke mostly about platonic stuff. Kashif found it difficult to catch up with her. He listened more.

And then suddenly.
"Meko koi acha lagta hain. But shayad usse main abh pasand nahin. Hum dono 3 saal pehle mile." Neeti looked down. Her lips couldn't decide whether to smile or not.

"Mujhe aise laga tha."

"Fir bhi?"

"Aap mujhe achi lagti hain."

That justification seemed enough, although it was very contradictory.

"Magar..." They both fell silent.

Neeti looked outside the window and saw the distant sea. The waves hit the bottom harshly. The sea was rough.

"Neeti aap dono ke beech kya problem hua"

"Uske paas mere liye time nahin hain. Woh todna chahta hain. Main jodne ki koshish kar rahi hun. But nothing seems to work. Hum dikhava karte hain. Woh mujhe phone kare tho ehsaan jatata hain. Main baat karun tho woh phone rakhne ki jaldi mein rehta hain."

"Neeti kuch cheezein Khuda pe chod deni chahiye. Woh jo sab se acha hain, wahi karega."

"Hmmm. But fir bhi main koshish karungi..."

"Kab tak?"

Neeti looked at him with wide eyes and realised she had no answer. There was silence. Only the sound of the distant waves.

She turned to look back at the sea. The waves seemed to be whispering something.

Kashif kept looking at her. He didn't know what next was in store. All he knew was that he was head over heels.

He was in love...

Tester’s day – 9th September 2009

The sale of the much-awaited CAT vouchers began yesterday. Scores of CAT-aspirants rushed to various branches of the Axis bank. I received several ‘pings’ on my chat box enquiring if I had got my copy. Some of my friends have even completed filling in the forms. So much of discussion about the time-slot! The way people reacted was too-much-to-handle. Finally to save myself from the agony, I had to log off from all the chat sessions I was online on.

Yes! I have still not bought my CAT voucher. And I don’t intend buying one till the end of this week. Its’ not a superstition I am nurturing. Neither is it my laid back attitude. This exam is as important to me, since I have a lot at stake this time. It’s a big risk I have taken. I am happy about it but nervous at the same time.

For 3 years now, I have been working in a QA (Quality assurance) and QC (Quality Control) domain. I loved my work, and I don’t mean job. I mean my work. The kind of tasks I took up and the way I delivered results. To be true, I was a passionate workaholic. And that is how I like things to be! I can shamelessly admit this. I worked so much that I didn’t even realize when my personal life went numb.

But recently, about 2 months back, I gave a microscopic look to my life. I realized that I had really lost on my tact to converse with people from the non IT-fraternity. Not that I bored them with any geeky stuff. But I didn’t have anything ELSE to talk about. All I could keep bragging was about work, work and more work. Also, I realized that I had turned a deaf ear to the company’s policies, salary concerns etc.

Finally enlightenment struck and I decided to quit. My curricula vitae, even after 3 years of experience, were a modest one. I had gained a lot of knowledge over the years but that which could not be used outside my company’s bounds. In short, NO SKILL SET/ EXPERTISE. No Java, Perl, UNIX, etc. Those technologies, that other companies bid for.

If put in the words of ‘Pursuit of Happyness’, “This part of my life is called Pitying”. All I did was brood and brood. I sulked about everything. I even had those bouts of crying. I wallowed for long periods especially during the weekends.

Then one day I rushed to my manager and told him that I wanted to quit my job. He asked me the reasons. I told him the truth. About all that I felt which includes company policies, peanut-salary. He in turn, spoke to his manager. A meeting was scheduled. Both, my manager and my super manager, yet another manager and me were in a conference room. The meet went on for an hour. I came out with a decision to re-consider my resignation. I went home that day and felt quite agitated. I spoke to my parents. My sister. My friends. No respite still.

One week later I finally put down my papers. I decided to answer CAT 2009. The spice here is that CAT was declared to go paper free, that is, online. COMPUTERIZATION! This would be my 4th attempt. By this time, I was convinced that my work, the kind of testing I did, wasn’t viable.

I started following CAT and related news. Yesterday after CAT forms sale began people posted several issues about the user-friendliness or should I say non-user friendliness of the UI (User Interface). Lack of error-checking, ambiguous language and above all, no editing post-submission. The servers seem slow too. After a person enters his voucher number and submits, there is a long wait for dawn to come. Two hours is minimum that was reported so far. The sole aim of Computerization was meant to make life easy. But this has caused people a lot of loss, financially and emotionally. People had to purchase new forms only because some had not put their father’s name, some had not entered their SSC marks. Thankfully, the issue has been taken up seriously by the IIM administration and a solution is expected soon.

But what has caused all this? Its’ because either the TESTERS didn’t do their job well or the company which made the UI didn’t think rigorous testing was required. Enlightenment strikes again. My job, my work was after all not something tending to null. It meant something! In fact more than that. Put in the ‘Pursuit of Happyness’ style, “This part of my life, this part here, is called Acknowledging”.

Yes! Testers play a major role in the product’s life cycle. A good tester is one who is not only good technically, but also the one who has a good insight. Testing the traditional way is expected but ad-hoc testing is the one that gives value-add. There are several testing tools now available in the market. But again, they are clichéd. The thoughts that pop while observing the product are the keys to actual testing. They are the ones, if worked on them, which make the product better in a true sense.

If testing is treated as a part of daily chores, a sense of donkey-work is bound to creep in. A good tester is definitely, the one who understands the product. Proactively learns about its aspects. Finds on the search engines about similar products and issues faced. To put it in simple words, a tester has to be, necessarily, a good researcher too.

From here on, we could easily conclude that testers are as important as the developers as long as they understand their role, value and their responsibility well. The tester’s road is, no doubt tough, but its’ worth the drive.

Life is in Moments!

Just a small true episode! All real-life episodes will be posted under this title. I hope I find more!

"Hi darling!" As usual, he calls her around 1.30 pm.
"Hey there... wassup dude... hahahaha". She's bubbling because she has not much work in office.
"I just called to say 'I love you'" He sings. "Done with lunch?"
"Yes, I'm done... what about you?"
"Hmmm just had a quick bite. Nothing great!"
"That means you didn't have a proper lunch again today." She sighed sadly.
"Its ok... Anyways I wanted to tell you about a new scheme in my office. Our employees can purchase any book for Re.1. The offer has been brought to us by Crosswords,
exclusively for our Company folks. I know how much you like to read so I thought I should tell you this..."
"Oh my God!!! Are you serious? How many titles are there? Which books are there as a part of the scheme? Do they have Jane Austen? What about Sidney Sheldon?"
"Hahaha... Hold on! Well, I'm not sure about the titles, but there should be a good collection!"
"Hmmm! Oh well, take all of them... Any title, any author! Please please please!" She's completely exuberant.
"Yes Shona, I'll take all of them".
Two weeks later.
"Hey what happened about those books?"
"Hmm... Oh... Ahan...Yes darling! I have told them, they'll get them soon."
One month later.
"Those books still haven't come... that is so sad ya!"
"Oh... yeah... they should come by next month dear"
Two months passed by.
"Hey kiddo, come inside the car and see whats there on the backseat!"
"Mammaaaaaaaaaaaaa... Are you kidding me? They're all mine??? Oh my God! Jane Austen! I love you darling!" She gives the books a tight hug.
"Yes Shona, they're all yours!" He smiles.
Four weeks later.
"Did you get the tickets for the movie?"
"No, I didn't. I'm sorry."
"What sorry! You should have booked them in advance. I had warned you, this is so bad!" She's completely disappointed.
"Yeah... I'm sorry, where do we go next?" He's at fault and is trying to make up for it.
"I dont know and I don't care" Angrily.
"Ok do me a favor, please take my wallet and pay the parking fellow, while I drive the car."
"Hmm" Still angry. "How much?"
"30"
"Done" She does not want to spoil the Friday mood so she smiles again, not a complete smile though. "You seem to be a rich guy! Lots of credit cards and cash...
Hahahahahahaha" She's being a little sarcastic, attempting to pull his leg.
"Hmmm". He smirks!
"Can I look into your wallet?"
"Its all yours". He gives a heart-warming smile.
"Parking tickets, bills... God! Your wallet is messy."
"Hmmm... See and throw the unwanted please... Shona" He looks at her and again gives an apologetic smile.
"Shoe bill, parking ticket, parking ticket, parking ticket, Provogue, petrol bill...You need all this?"
"Only petrol bills". Smiles again.
"This is ... Crosswords bill????"
s"Give that to me!!!" He Snatches the bill and tears the paper into 3 bits.
"Stop it!!!! What is it??? Show it! Right now! Else I'll get down from the car right in the middle of the street." She yells.
"Dammit!!! It's nothing!" He yells back.
He gives the 3 bits to her unhappily. The paper is totally crumpled. She re-assembles them and is completely flabbergasted.
"You lied to me!!! You bought all those books from Crosswords... For their original prices!!! Why????? I hate you! I hate you! You liar! Scoundrel!"
"Shona please please understand me! I beg of you. I'm sorry. I lied but I had to."
"Why????????" She screams on top of her voice. The people in the neighbouring cars are all looking at them. She is vexed.
"Shona... Shona... I forgot when you asked me to order the books, I didn't place the order on time and then... I knew how much those books meant... to you... I just
... I just wanted you to have them. Please I beg, I'm sorry"
"You spent Rs.3000 on books. These books! I could have read them anytime and bought them one at a time. You could have just told me."
"Shona I... Please forget it! They're a gift... From me to my Shona. I love you baby, I'm sorry. I never meant to..."
"Gosh... Honey... I don't know what to...!" She chokes. Tears gushing.
Life lies in all these small moments.

The wait for the end... Part 2

"What on earth were you thinking Neeti?"

"Boss, but these pics capture..."

"They capture NONSENSE! What! You want me to teach you to click pics now??? 2 more minutes in this office and I'll turn mad"

"Will turn? You have already!", Neeti said to herself softly.

"Neeti! I heard that!"

"Boss I should get back to work", Neeti couldn't hide her smirk.

"Yeah!" came the reply in a gruff tone.


Neeti's boss, Sushant, was a short tempered chap, exactly the opposite of his name. He cared for none and spoke his mind at times even when his opionion wasn't asked or didn't count. He was a hard-working fellow but not a good team player. Besides, he had had two divorces already and had now stopped believing in the institution of marriage. Although, deep down, he knew it was the otherwise.

Neeti was very jittery and fidgety today. She kept looking at her mobile. It did ring a couple of times, but not for the reasons she wanted.

It was lunch time. Her mobile rang suddenly breaking the lull in the office. A colleague, named Ramaswamy, who sits next to her cubicle woke up with a jerk from his sleep. Neeti saw his shocked face and declared "Subah ho gayi Ramu! Re Ramu!". Ramaswamy gave a sly smile.

"Hmmm Hey!"

"Where the hell are you? Do you realise you have called me after 48 hours?" Neeti couldn't control her decibles by now.

"Chill yaar! I am not jobless nor do I have time to go to parties and click snaps away to glory!"

"Gosh! What the hell is wrong with you? Are you..."

"Enough yaar! Listen! I got to go now... Important meeting yeah! Catch you later! See ya!"

"But you said we were supposed to ... Hello! Hello!" The line was already disconnected, even before Neeti realised. She jumped from her seat and ran into the ladies room. This was just another of those numerous times that she had wallowed in the office washroom. She took a complete 30 mins in there and came out, not until she washed her face and dried her eyes.

She reached her desk and sat looking at her computer screen like it was a television showing her the transcripts of the last mobile conversation. Just as she unlocked the screen, Ramaswamy said to her "Aiyo Neeti Amma, there was a call for you...Some Kafish I say"

Neeti burst out laughing and the whole cubicle was vibrating. "Aiyo Ramu Anna, its Kashif not Kafish I say" .

Ramaswamy laughed along. He always liked Neeti but realised long back that there could be nothing possible between them.

Neeti picked her mobile and redialled the number from the "Received list".

"Namaste Sirji" .

"Neeti ji! Kaise ho aap?"

"Badiyan... Waise aap ko mera number kahan se mila? Mere piche koi spy tho nahin lagaya na? Hahahaha" .

"Spy?"

"Detective?"

"Haan..." Kashif gave a quizzical reply.

"Oye Ramu, what is a spy called in Hindi?"

"Aiyo spy... wait Neeti, I'll search it on the internet" Ramaswamy swung into action.

"Jasoos!!!" Neeti almost screeched.

"Oh nahin nahin... jasoos nahin hain... maine thoda dundha and mil gaya aap ka number" .

"Acha... chalo chodo. Farmaiye... aap ne aise hi call kiya?"

"Woh main keh raha tha ki, main Worli mein hi tha tho kyun na lunch karen... Matlab hum dono... ek saath... alag alag nahin" Kashif sounded really nervous.

Neeti was caught off-guard. She didn't know what to say and she blurted out "OK"

"Main aap ko lene aata hun... White Honda city" Kashif was completely overwhelmed. He cut the line and told his driver that he would drive the car.

Neeti realised that she had said "Yes" for lunch. She wondered whether to call Kashif again and cancel the plan and apologize. After a lot of thought, she convinced herself to go for the luncheon.

As committed, Kashif was waiting in his white Honda City right in front of the entrance.

"Hi KAFISH"

"Neeti!" Kashif's throat went dry. He just kept looking a her as she walked near, sat next to him and again said "Hi". She had again worn a pair of simple straight fit demins with a well fitted V-neck black top. She looked very pretty. Kashif opened his mouth to say something and she cunningly said "Yes I know, main bohot achi lag rahi hun and kala rang meko suit karta hain."

Kashif blushed. He didn't protest. Quitely started driving the car. Neeti kept jabbering about work. Her boss. Her camera. On and off, she did ask him a few questions, but they seemed merely a formality. She didn't even spare him a second to answer any of them. Kashif couldn't help blushing and smiling, both at the same time. She spoke of the new fly-over from Bandra to Worli, about Linking road, her neighbour's dog, clothes. And out-of-the-blue, she said "Aap ka blazer acha hain! Waise aaj aap kaafi ache lag rahe ho KAFISH!"

Kashif suddenly seemed conscious and moved a bit in his seat. He smiled again. He didn't even realise that she had called him KAFISH.

"Abh main bilkul nahin bolungi KAFISH... Aap bolo KAFISHHHH" .

He laughed. "Mera naam Kashif hain".

"Nahin aaj se aap ka naam KAFISH... hahahahahaha". She laughed so loudly.

"Aree check tho kijiye Neeti ji ki peeche ka type kahin puncture tho nahin hua". His face was suddenly serious.

Neeti immediately looked from her window. The tyre was fine.

"Tik hain tyre".

"Hahahahaha meko laga shayad puncture hua ho"

"Kyun?"

"Aree aap aise hansi... ek tho tyre puncture hona jayaz hain" .

"Very mean". Neeti laughed again.

"Chaliye... hotel aa gaya."

... TO BE CONTINUED

The wait for the end... Part 1

This is one of my innumerable attempts towards writing a short story. I hope at least this time I keep it short.

This is the story of a goon. Yes, a criminal. His name is Kashif. Kashif was a henchman, an extortionist, a kidnapper. He could be whatever you wanted, as long as you paid him hefty sums of money. He had a small one-room shanty in Dharavi. He lived there and operated his business also from there itself.

Kashif began his 'career' at the age of 10. His first consignment was given by a well established don of Mumbai. He was assigned to kill an upcoming builder who had refused to pay 'protection money'. Kashif's mother was admitted in the hospital and was fighting against death. The doctor refused to treat her until the previous dues were cleared. Kashif found no other option and took up the consignment and killed the builder. The don paid Kashif much more than promised and even offered to treat his mother in a plush hospital. But as fate would have it, by the time Kashif took the money and reached to rescue his mother, she was already declared dead. Kashif shed not a single tear. In fact like a good son, he performed all the last rites well. The next day, the hospital doctor who had refused to treat Kashif's mother was found dead in his 3 BHK appartment in townside Mumbai.

Kashif slowly and gradually progressed from a small-time henchman to a serial killer, then a kidnapper. From here on, there was no looking back for him. He was on a money making spree. By the age of 25, his name was counted among the big dons of Mumbai. He was very pleased with the kind of hold he had, but somehow was never satisfied. In a fews years, he began loan-sharking. Biggies from all over India came to him. He did their work and they paid him any random amount that he quoted. But unlike the other dons, he was never into human trafficking or drugs. He was a misogynist and kept away from women.

Come May 1998, there was a big event in the city. Some sort of an International Summit. All the Bollywood actors, company CEOs etc had gather at the 7 star hotel's banquet hall. Kashif was invited by one of the top builder's to threaten a certain government official. Kashif readily came. He met most known faces and some unknown. A waiter came to serve Kashif some drinks. Kashif turned back to pick a wine glass and that is when he saw her. She was dressed in blue denim and a white top, hair tussled in a black clip. Nothing eye catching about her. She kept clicking pictures, moving about the hall like she knew it so well. All the while she kept smiling.

Kashif noticed that his eyes kept following her. He tried to engage himself in talks but all his attempts were futile. He knew there was something about her that made him gaze shamelessly.

11.00 pm and the hall was getting empty. People started leaving for their rooms. Some were sloshed and had to be accompanied. Kashif called his driver and ordered him to get the car. The driver promptly drove the car to the porch. Kashif was all set to take the lift when he saw her walk down the flight of stairs. Unaware of his action, he followed her down the stairs. She was trying to miserably fit her camera into the hold-all and tie her hair, all at the same time. And then something from her bag fell off. Kashif quickened his steps and picked it up. He gave it to her, without even giving a glance towards what it was. He kept looking at her. She said "Thank you Sir". Kashif fumbled for words and somehow managed to say, "Koi baat nahin... tik hai". She bobbed about the stairs like a small kid, unaware of the mysterious pair of eyes staring at her.

Kashif saw her leave the main entrance of the plush hotel. He was about to follow her when his driver called out "Gaadi tayar hain Sahab". Kashif gave the driver a frosty nose look and angrily got into the back seat. The car left the premises and off onto the silent roads of Marine Drive. After covering about 50 feet, Kashif almost screeched "Rukooo". The driver hastily pulled the car. Kashif saw her walking down the streets alone. He stepped out and walked up to her. "Suniye! Kya main aap ko lift de sakta hun?". She jumped with fright. "Ji...Ji...Ji nahin". He again said "Suniye raat ka samay hai, aap ne yun akele nahi jana chaiye". She yelled back "Get lost you nerd. How dare you come and talk to me!". Kashif almost laughed. He said very calmly "Hanji, gaaliyan bhi de dijiye magar abh yahan se chaliye." She looked into his eyes for the first time and saw an assurance. "Well, I'm sorry dude! Can you give me a lift to Bandra?". Kashif only smiled and said "Haan haan Bandra Bandra".

They stepped into his car. She sat as far as possible. Kashif avoided looking at her. He had to put in a lot of effort. She kept looking at her mobile as if waiting for a call. He asked her "Hum call kar den? Aap ko thodi shaanti tho milegi warna aap iss phone ko dekhte rahengi aur hum aap ko." She smiled back. A big smile. And blushed. She put her hand forward and said "Hi I'm Neeti, photographer and reporter." He took her hand in his and held it like for eternity. "Kashif, hamara business hain." "Acha kis cheez ka business hain aap ka?". Kashif thought for a moment, saw her camera and said "Camera, TV, video". "Cameras... gosh I love cameras. This is given to me by my firm but I have one of my own. Its completely beautiful and the lenses are so ..." she went on and on and on. He only kept looking at her and nodding his head with the sound of any familiar word.

By the time they reached Bandra, she had explained the entire history of cameras. Not once did Kashif interrupt her. "Oh that's my home there. Thank you so much for the lift." "Ji koi baat nahin... good night". She looked at her mobile again and made a grimace. He spontaneously asked her "Coffee?". "Cafe Coffee Day Dadar" came her reply.

They reached Dadar. When Kashif entered CCD, the attending guys looked at him with fright in their eyes. One of them almost spilt coffee on a customer. Kashif smiled and raised an eyebrow. Neeti was too busy to notice any of this. She kept looking at her mobile. They were directed to a table. Neeti ordered two Cappuchinos. Kashif didn't attempt to order anything different. Neeti realised that Kashif could not converse in English. She didn't make it obvious and subtly changed her conversations to Hindi. Kashif seemed comfortable. They chatted about various things. About business, politics, Mumbai. Neeti looked at her mobile one last time and threw it in her hold all. He asked her "Kya aap ka koi boyfriend hain?". She shifted a little in her seat and said "Hmmm nahin". "Fir tik hain, kyunki main yeh kehna chahta tha ki mujhe aap bahut achi lagti ho". Neeti smiled, blushed and laughed. She paid closer attention to Kashif this time as he spoke about his Mumbai connections. She noticed that he was clean shaved, brown eyed and had a mole on his nose. He was not good looking but his smile lit his face like a shiny dew drop on a leaf.

The coffee was over and their conversations dimished with every passing moment. Neeti stood up and declared she would pay the bill. And without waiting for him to say anything, walked towards the counter and said to the cashier "Bill please!". The cashier promptly stood up and almost saluted her and said "No Ma'am today all drinks on the house". Neeti hardly believed her ears and jumped about the place. "Kashif aaj sab free hain idhar! Aree humne tho aur bhi lena chaiye tha. Hahahaha". Kashif murmured "Neeti, hamare saath rahoge tho sab free hoga." Neeti didn't hear clearly and asked "What?". He said "Kuch nahin ghar chalte hain!"

To be Continued...