The Story of my Upgrade to Colour

Professionally, I grew up in the world of technology.

Despite the aura and glamour it has, it's really a "black and white" world: your code either compiles or it does not; the syntax is either right or wrong; the API either scales or fails. Quite literally, a binary world where decision-making is rule-driven for the most part and outcomes are largely predictable.

I therefore found myself wanting as I grew beyond a pure technical role and entered the realm of decision-making driven by humans and human semantics rather than by syntax and design semantics.

I found myself as overwhelmed as I was mesmerized  by the hues, tints, tones and shades of all colours, including gray that define the non-technical, non-binary world. The influence of the human element in decision-making was far too real and far too significant not to recognize and not to accept.

One of my first lessons - and indeed my first step in my "upgrade to colour" - was when I switched from an engineering role in India to a pre-sales role in the Valley.

My first pre-sales assignment was with a prospect - a Valley startup - that wanted to "port their Python code-base to Java". The company had a location-based product that was delivered through a traditional web portal, mobile web and a mobile application.

In response, we went "well-prepared" - corporate deck, relevant case studies, execution methodology, what-have-you.

It was a 90-minute meeting with the CTO (who had just come on-board) and his 7-member engineering team.

The meeting exploded in our faces.

The porting project had a stillbirth – both, because of us as well as for reasons beyond our control and beyond our meeting.

As I reflected upon that meeting, I distilled out two important lessons:

1. Business, political and human considerations and compulsions rule over and overrule everything else: it was a new CTO who had mooted the idea of the porting to Java without fully bringing on board, his engineering team – an all-Python team including an author of a book on Python! To make matters worse, the team was never too kicked about outsourcing. Last but not the least, the business didn't see anything "broken" (with the Python platform) that needed to be "fixed" (with Java). Needless to say, we were seen by the team as the villains roped in by the new CTO to do his dirty work. The technical merits of Java vis-à-vis Python and vice-versa never even figured in our discussions.
   
   I have learnt and re-learnt with many a junior team-member that this is the most important lesson and the rudest awakening for the software engineer that believes that technology is supreme. More importantly, countless more fail to learn this lesson.
2. Don’t assume you know enough to make assumptions – we knew a lot about the company through direct information and research, but assumed we knew enough to make assumptions. We assumed that the decision to port had been carefully considered and thought-through from technical and non-technical angles. We assumed the team was on-board. We assumed "outsource" meant "offshore".
   
   We assumed we were making safe assumptions.
   
   We made assumptions.
   
   Her famous child followed.

As I moved not just beyond a technical role, but indeed beyond the world of technology, the hues, shades and tints came into greater play. Be it the wily business associate you have to deal with, or the shy employee you're trying to groom or the hopelessly suspicious colleague who wants to randomly verify Excel calculations on his 12-digit super-reliable Casio calculator or the weird wisdom of todays' court verdicts or the inexplicable non-alignment of your priorities with your wife's or the "timely" tantrum your 5-year-old will throw. 

The possible outcomes are rarely binary and the only predictability is in the unpredictability.

My upgrade to colour continues and is perpetually incomplete, but the two lessons I learnt from my first pre-sales meeting are keepers. 

(Based on an article I originally wrote for a portal run by a friend of mine which has since wound up)  

Disaster Choreography

On board a Konkan Railway train

 A couple of months ago, the incessant rains caused an ill-constructed neighbouring wall to collapse on the compound wall of our residential complex and they both came crashing down. Fortunately - rather, miraculously - no one was injured and there was little damage to any property except for the wall itself.

The South Goa Planning and Development Authority has thoughtfully created a "District Disaster Management Authority". Unfortunately, in doing so, they raised my expectation. And so it was, that I was taken aback when, on submitting a written communication asking them to help, the idiot lady (I do believe "idiot" is a unisex word) sleepily asked us to check back after 8 days to know the "status" of our "complaint" without so much as bothering to read or know what we had come to report.

I don't mean to single out the SGPDA for this non-response. Indeed, as a nation, and perhaps as a race, we have not (yet) internalized the notion and the significance of disaster preparedness and recovery.

But what churns my stomach, is the "choreography" that goes into any and every disaster we are faced with. When I say "choreography", I don't mean it as a metaphor for "manufacturing" the disaster in the first place; rather, I am really referring to the post-incident posturing that we seem to have become experts at.

From the Arnabs who wallow in their own superciliousness to clueless political figureheads who just want some airtime, we have no dearth of entities who add absolutely no value. Not even to their own faces or to their own (dis)repute.

The long-decayed-icing on the cake though, is this:

Pictures predominantly from PIB

If there's anything and anyone that can make the scripts of Ekta Kapoor's "K brigade" look like a Steven Spielberg potboiler, it simply has to be the idea and its inventor (perhaps the brainchild of Doordarshan) of making us watch politicians watch disaster-prone areas. And for this, I would blame the media more than the politicians.

Aerial survey of a disaster-struck zone - sad as it may be - is newsworthy. But covering a politician peering out of a plane purportedly flying over a disaster zone? Now, that's a disaster.


Just so you can gauge for yourself, try this: do a Google image search for "aerial survey" and then search for "aerial survey of disaster". See the results that show up for each. The pictures will speak a thousand words.


Since we now have a PM who has after ages delivered a I-Day speech from the heart instead of by-heart, who has stepped in to question why so many scrooges needed to accompany the athletes to Incheon, and who has asked people to assist in J&K aid instead of celebrating his birthday - and hopefully truly meant all of those - I will rely on him to please stop this parody+travesty+ignominy of "disaster recovery".

Please, Mr. PM. We need true disaster prevention, preparedness and recovery. No more disaster choreography.

A Star is Born

Even if it would further empower the common man - and of course, woman - to exercise her/his right to information by opening up the system and making it more transparent as has been attempted by several generations of his noble family, I couldn't possibly say anything that hasn't already been said about RaGa's now-legendary interview by ArGo.

The reactions to the interview do not really surprise me. To me, it was a foregone conclusion; a predictable outcome; I hadn't even bothered to watch the interview. Notwithstanding the fact that I can't - couldn't - stand the interviewer anyway. Of course, I was tracking the steady stream of sentiments being expressed on social media.

What I had not anticipated though, was the overwhelming intensity of the reaction and the barrage of humour. It were these two factors that drew me to the interview.

To my surprise, I was surprised.

In my eyes, a potential star was indeed born in yesterday's interview.

Not RaGa, but ArGo.

The ArGo I have seen - on the miserable occasions that fate has plonked me at 9PM in front of a TV tuned to TimesNow and whose remote-control I had no authority over - is an ArGo that I shun. That is the ArGo who believes he alone is the nation's conscience keeper. The ArGo who believes the nation has appointed him its spokesperson through a overwhelmingly unanimous referendum. The ArGo that believes that a "debate" is a monologue-in-disguise where the moderator sequentially shouts out the same question to as many people as can be fitted on a TV screen (but by waiting till one speaker starts speaking before posing the same question to the next person, thereby cutting off the speaker). The ArGo that believes an entire nation is patiently waiting for him to beat an answer out of the (usually) vile interviewee and hand it over so the nation can use that answer to save itself from apocalypse and redefine its own fate.

Heck. ArGo was the single largest reason I couldn't stand ArGo.

Imagine my surprise therefore, when I saw a transformed ArGo interviewing RaGa.

The answers that RaGa gave are not to be held against him nor are to be used to judge or crucify him. Rather, they are a measure of ArGo coming of age. How many other interviewees on his show have been allowed to complete what they wanted to say? Let alone give irrelevant answers.

The apparent digression that RaGa seemed to be lapsing into mustn't distract us from the gem it revealed. It was a test for ArGo. A test that he passed - in my view - with flying colours. ArGo kept returning - with respect (what?! what?!) - to specifics, to elicit a response.

The repeated stress by RaGa on the same set of concepts shouldn't cause us to defocus from the larger point. For the first time in my life, I was reaching for the remote when ArGo was speaking, to INCREASE the volume. Not to decrease it. Nor even to change the channel.

For a change, there was no melodrama. And any drama if at all, was definitely mellow.

Above all, ArGo used the word "nation" only 3 times. And that too, only when he uttered the words "assassination", "nomination" and "destination".

I am not joking and I am not being sarcastic when I say I was pleasantly surprised by ArGo. It appears that he has indeed had an education. It appears that he can indeed be effective by being civil. It appears that he can in fact do his job - and how - at sub-100-decibel levels and devoid of hot air.

For the copious amount of homework you do ArGo, you owe it to yourself to emerge as a professional journalist not prone to molly-coddling rather than a supercilious anchor who wants his career to be defined by cacophony and melodrama.

Do you have it in you, ArGo? Have you really come of age?

The Nation wants to know, ArGo; the Nation wants to know.