Thursday, October 14, 2010

Dancing on the floor

The so-called “skilled” workers in the IT industry think that the entire world revolves around them. Though being wage slaves, they feel and act like emperors. Money speaks. I am also a part of this little ignorant world. Just like all disciplines, IT has its pros and cons. My general observation is that these skilled workers have transformed themselves into machines. Working with functions and stored procedures has made them more and more process-oriented. And they expect everyone in this world to work like a machine, religiously obeying the rules of the book. They prefer to wage email wars and shun more effective ways of direct communication. They are low-hanging fruits for companies targeting their relatively high disposable incomes. Sadly, many of them do not realize (and accept) the fact that the world is not all about IT. And hence, “dancing on the floor” is a must, especially for such skilled workers.

Let me start by describing my journey from Bangalore to Baroda. This time I changed my usual itinerary and took a flight to Mumbai, with a follow-on night travel to Baroda by train. Bangalore and Mumbai are quite opposite demographically. Bangalore is the home of skilled workers with fat salaries whereas Mumbai is the home for everyone from the top to bottom of the income pyramid. I could notice two strikingly different tones that said a lot about the difference between these two cities (read on).

Bangalore airport was hustling. The skilled workers formed queues as the flight departure announcements came in. Most of the things were in place. In between the announcements came in the warnings “Please look out for any suspicious items in your vicinity and report them to the police”; reminiscent of the skilled-worker’s way of looking at dangers. My flight was on-time.

Mumbai airport was chaotic. The same baggage conveyor belt was used for three flights. Eh! Fortunately, I had buffer time to reach Borivali, my destination railway station. Hence, contrary to my plans, instead of hiring a taxi, I decided to ‘get on the floor’ of the suburban locals. Wow! After a bit of bargaining with the auto guy, I reached Ville Parle. It was 9ish, peak time for Mumbaikars traveling back home after office. The trains were choc-a-bloc with passengers hanging out of the compartments. I had a 14 kilo backpack (weighed at the airport) and a laptop bag to carry. This is way too much if you want to travel in the locals. It surely needs some guts to take a chance. Man! The pressure was enormous and from all sides. I felt like a lemon waiting to be squeezed. Add to that the humid conditions that mercilessly suck any fluid out of you. You don’t have the liberty to move your feet without stamping on to someone else’s. But all this is taken for granted. When you turn around you might end up knocking a forehead with your elbow and yet there will be hardly any stare. Mumbaikars are used to such lifestyle. Even the elderly do not hesitate traveling in such chaos. I was really amused to watch an old guy finding time and space to happily comb his hair. Hats off! I alighted at Borivali. This time around the warnings were “Please do not try to climb the train as we have a 2500 watts supply that could take away your life” – reminiscent of the Mumbaikar’s way of looking at dangers. This is life and this is how we have all have to deal with it!

Dancing on the floor is what I love…to feel what is life…to understand how chaotic yet lively can life be….to appreciate the value of hard-earned money….to get more insights on how this world works...rather than being a self-proclaimed emperor whose life is confined to cubicles and ego-walls.