Arnab Sensation

If heaven is a place on Earth, I may have stumbled upon it on the outskirts of Seoul at the KINTEX convention center. The Sensation concert series had landed in Asia for the first time, with Korea the first stop on the tour. I went with a group of Korean friends. The theme of the night was "An Ocean of White". This was reinforced by the all white dress code required for all attendees, set decoration drawing inspiration from the depths of the sea, and k-girls covered in dollops of skin whitening cream.

There were around 20,000 revelers in attendance. As the event was about to begin, streams of angelic figures waited to enter the main event hall. The concert started around 10pm at night and continued until 5am the next morning. Each DJ mixed for about an hour and a half. It was not all about the beats though, as the house music was accompanied by water fountains, lasers, giant beach balls thrown into the crowd, pyrotechnics, and dancing girls who had their upper bodies enclosed in plastic bubbles.

The k-girls would go outside the main hall to rest whenever they got tired, a frequent occurrence. Exhausted beauties were scattered across the grounds like confetti, sitting on the floor after taking of their killer heels, lined up in lengthy queues outside the bathrooms (where the mirrors are larger than the hand mirrors they carry in their purses), or sipping coffee while playing on their smartphones.

Source: Sensation

"It is like paradise" I exhaled, dabbing the drool off my face with a moist towelette. As a steady stream of Korean beauties sauntered past me with expressions ranging from vacant to disgusted, I expressed my oft repeated regret that they may not speak English. "I hope they don't" said a Korean man standing nearby with a self-satisfied grin on his face.

Source: Sensation

I posed with several starlets, who quickly dispersed after taking a photograph with me. After seeing one such photo, a friend of mine commented that "This picture is very misleading as if you are a hot guy among girls. It could lead Indian boys to immediately buy a one way Korean ticket." To be fair, this was an improvement over regular encounters where a k-girl is more likely to be using her phone to call a park ranger to tranquilize me rather than to store my contact number.

As dawn approached the revelers groggily made their way to the subway station to catch the first train of a new day. Every seat was occupied by someone dressed in white, a shocking sight for passengers at subsequent stops. They must have wondered why so many hospital patients, spa goers, and lunatics from the insane asylum were all out at the same time. A random girl sitting beside me fell asleep, placing her head on my able shoulders. Her head slid steadily downwards, before jerking back up just in the nick of time. The passengers who were still awake watched with bemused expressions on their faces.

*****

"Take your pleasure seriously." — Charles Eames

Rainbow Fountain

Along with other recently monied nations like China and oil rich Middle Eastern nations, South Korea is an enthusiastic participant in the superlatives game of tallest, highest, longest, and fastest used to demonstrate their prowess on the world stage. One of the zanier accomplishments stemming from this competition is the Banpo Bridge Rainbow Fountain. The world's longest bridge fountain connects the two sides of Seoul bisected by the mighty Han River.

The nightly sound and light shows dazzles spectators, with 200 tons of recycled river water shooting out from the many nozzles spread across a distance of 1140 meters. Most of the audience enjoys the show from riverside parks. Another bridge runs underneath the Banpo Bridge so it is actually possible to walk across the lower deck and view the fountain show from an unique perspective there.

*****

"But which is the stone that supports the bridge?" ~ Kublai Khan

ARNABabe: Lost in Translation

Several Korean guys had spent a couple of hours coaching me how to say "What is your phone number?" in the local tongue. The phrase was many syllables long so I had a tough time memorizing it. Putting my new found knowledge into practice, I was able to successfully secure the digits of a stunning Seoul beauty despite committing some major blunders.

Me: Jonhabonhogamoeiyo?
Beauty: Do you even know my name?
Me: No. Do you know mine?
Beauty: Arnab.
Me: Oh...

Her voice was so melodious I had failed to capture the meaning behind the sounds she was making when she was first introducing herself. I gave her my phone and she dialed her number. For the follow up a few days later, I used a non verbal and harmless text message to query whether she was free for dinner.

She was grossly offended that I had offered her free dinner as "Korean girls are not so cheap". This time the miscommunication could be attributed to the language barrier. Tragically, the story came to a premature end before we could become Seoul-mates.

*****

"To cement a new friendship, especially between foreigners or persons of a different social world, a spark with which both were secretly charged must fly from person to person, and cut across the accidents of place and time." - Cornelia Otis Skinner

Seoul Metro

The Seoul Metropolitan Subway is the world's fourth largest commuter network, carrying 4 million passengers per day. The stations are bustling hives of activity, with food, toilet, and shopping venues readily available. Excruciatingly long transfers between different lines at the same station are not as convenient, designed as a mechanism to keep the general populace in top top shape. Vibrant ads and thoughtful poetry adorn the platform, and television screens feature entertaining lessons on how to behave at the station and on the train. The metro functions as a petri dish to examine modern day Korean culture, from etiquette to fashion.

Once aboard, a first time rider will notice that there are reserved seats for old people and pregnant women which no able bodied person will sit in. These seats are even empty in a packed train during rush hour or late night when there are no oldsters or baby mamas in sight, as decorum must be maintained at all times in Korea. Looks of scorn are projected at those selfish enough to sit down on these without being infirm or impregnated. If the phone must be used to make a call, then the conversation is carried out in a hushed tone with one hand politely covering the mouth.

Riding the Bombay locals was an exhilarating experience, but the primary excitement was in getting on and off a moving train. The ride itself was not very fun. The Seoul Metro is breathtaking while on board, particularly as spring turns to summer. Beautiful short skirted passengers sitting on the train carefully avoid reenacting Sharon Stone's famous scene from Fatal Attraction. They are absorbed in their own worlds, applying makeup or playing on their smart phones. Only an occasional shy glance is given to the Indo-Canadian Temptation. The women are not the only fashionable commuters in transit. Their stylish male counterparts all dress alike, the combination of their skinny hairless bodies and tight shorts and shirts giving them the appearance of ball boys at a tennis match.

The Parable of the Singing Bastard

I went to see Marvel's The Avengers at a movie theater in Seoul. When I went to the ticket counter, the staff objected to my being there and began to gesticulate wildly. I did not understand what the commotion was about until a kind Korean gentleman behind me pointed out that I needed a ticket just to line up at the ticket counter. He walked with me and we retrieved a numbered slip such as the ones found at banks or visa offices. As there was no one else in the lineup, my number came up immediately and I was able to purchase my movie ticket. While we waited for the film to begin, the man and I made small talk.

Me: What do you do?

He: I am bastard.

Me: No, I mean what is your job?

He: Bastard.

Me: Umm...

He: Pray to God.

Me: Oh, you mean pastor?

He: Yes.

***

He: What you sing about Korea?

Me: I don't sing about Korea.

He: No, what you sing about Koreans?

Me: I don't sing... oh, you mean what do I think about Koreans?

He: Yes.

ARNABites: It's Alive

After eating almost everything imaginable under the sun during my China years, I moved from inanimate to animate objects in Korea. At the Noryangjin Fish Market in Seoul, dozens of fishmongers offer mysterious creatures of the deep to the public for immediate consumption. I was accompanied by my friend Zeki. As we exited the Noryangjin subway and turned towards the overhead walkway leading to the fish market, Zeki mentioned that I should have cash on hand as they probably do not accept credit cards. "No they don't." confirmed a foreign passerby who appeared out of nowhere for that brief moment as if performing a cameo in a movie.

After careful inspection, we selected a couple of octopi. I had wanted to share one, but Zeki insisted on two. He wanted to make sure that we each got a head. The fishmonger put the octopus in a plastic bag partially filled with water and handed it to me. We walked through a narrow opening between several stalls at one corner of the market and headed into a basic restaurant attached to the fish market. A lady roughly grabbed my octopi. I followed her into the back and watched in stunned silence as she quickly chopped off the tentacles and put the various squirming pieces onto a dish.

I had difficulty picking up the tentacles with the narrow metal chopsticks that Koreans generally utilise. I was accustomed to the better grip provided by the Amazon rainforest worth of disposable wooden chopsticks used by the Chinese. The strong suction cups on the tentacles were not helping matters either, resisting my attempts to pry them loose from the plate. After finally capturing one wiggling tentacle I dropped it into the signature Korean hot sauce. It twirled around by itself until it was fully sauced. The paste made it somewhat tasty as the raw tentacle generated little flavour by itself.

I avoided eating the head as long as possible, but soon the time came to devour it. Zeki warned me that it was too difficult to chew, and that I would have to swallow it whole. I did not want to do that, so I chewed valiantly for ten minutes after wrapping it in lettuce leaf. The head was about one and a half times the size of a poached egg, with a similar texture but much stronger composition. The membrane was not breaking down into something digestible despite my best efforts. My strength began to fade so eventually I had to swallow it as Zeki predicted. Overall, it was quite unappetizing but worth a try once.

*****

And therefore as a stranger give it welcome. 

There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, 

Than are dreamt of in your philosophy.

- William Shakespeare`s Hamlet

To and FRO

If you are a foreigner planning to work, study, or travel within India for more than 180 consecutive days without leaving the country, then you are required to register your details with the closest Foreigner's Regional Registration Office (FRRO) or Foreigner's Registration Office (FRO) within two weeks of your arrival. Five other law abiding non-citizens and I decided to fulfill our legal duty soon after our arrival in Hyderabad. Our first stop was Satyam City Center in Begumpet (across the street from popular department store Shopper's Stop). One of the better furnished Satyam office's, here we picked up letters attesting to our proof of employment and other required documentation.

A foreigner is required to submit the following (from the Indian Bureau of Immigration):

• 4 recent passport size photographs (the remaining 16-20 photos in the set became valuable collectors items among the female interns)
• Photocopy of passport photo page and a valid Indian Visa page
• Proof of residential address in India (electricity bill from the landlord and a letter stating that we lived there)
• Documents of identification
• In case of Employment Visa, request letter, undertaking, contract agreement from employer
  

With documents in hand, we arrived at the police headquarters. We were promptly directed towards the authorities responsible for foreigner registration. Initially reluctant to process our documents since we had arrived after lunchtime, after some light persuasion they agreed to do what they could. We were herded into a crowded room with boxes full of overflowing stacks of paper and rows of men with stamps. They inspected our documents, frowned, and approved them with authority. We were then told to wait outside. Several hours later a kindly clerk gave each of us slips containing an identification number and a date when a letter stating that we had registered with the FRO would be ready for pickup. This letter is collected by Indian authorities when you are leaving the country. If you do not have this document then, you may be deported from the country as punishment. Unfortunately before my letter was ready, I had been transferred to Bangalore and did not get the chance to pick it up.

After I had alerted Satyam's foreign affairs department that I had not transferred my registration from Hyderabad to Bangalore, they directed me to do so post haste. I made my way back to Hyderabad for 5 days, spending a few extra days reuniting with old friends, eating biryani, and inspecting pearls. The FRO had relocated from the old police headquarters to an even older one so the surroundings were once again unfamiliar. The officers in charge were disgruntled at first since I did not have my identification slip and gave me a lecture about irresponsible foreigners thinking they can come to India and do whatever they want. They saw my passport and then lightened up when they realized I was a Bengali. After explaining the Satyam diet and why I looked different from my picture, they allowed me to bypass the long lineup so that I could immediately finish my paperwork. The staff were friendly and helpful, especially the ones that were not snoozing or reading the newspaper. They passed around my picture and chuckled. First I retrieved my letter stating I was registered as a foreigner in Hyderabad. Then I applied for deregistration from Hyderabad. After I was granted this, I requested that my information be forwarded to Bangalore so that I could register there. I did not want to further increase India's population count by being registered at more than one place at a time.

Back in Bangalore, I went to the FRO and let them know that I had given them permission to receive my original paperwork from Hyderabad. They stamped my documents and told me to write a letter to the Hyderabad FRO stating that the Bangalore FRO had noted my arrival and were ready to receive any documentation that they may have concerning me. I followed instructions, but several more trips to the FRO were in vain as the documents never arrived from Hyderabad. The on duty clerk finished his crossword puzzle and informed me that there was no problem and whatever documentation I had collected over the year would be enough to ensure my departure from India.

The Satyam Diet

I lost weight during the year I spent working in India. Most of it can be attributed to the Satyam Diet plan that I followed in Bangalore. My eating habits changed to accommodate my work schedule. My hours spent in the office were from around 10 in the morning to 7 at night. One hour on each side could be added as traveling time. Since my carefree existence allowed me to indulge in at least nine hours of sleep a night, by the time I woke up and got ready, there was no time for breakfast apart from some fruit or juice picked up on the way to work. The office gruel served at lunchtime was so consistent in its putridity that eating even a tiny portion of the fare tormented my taste buds and stripped me of my beloved appetite. Apart from the tasty morsels provided by office belles the amount of food I consumed during the midday meal was severely diminished. With two of the days three meals much smaller than I regularly had, dinner became a meal of meals. I would visit the finest establishments around the city, having food of singularly high quality but with a diversity of flavour, ingredients, and preparation.

No diet can be successful unless it combines both food intake and physical exertion. The exercise portion of the diet was provided by the 8 floors I had to climb every time I took a break (a surprisingly large number of times) with my colleagues or went to lunch. There was only one elevator for the many hundreds of employees, and with a significant proportion of these taking a break at any one moment in time, the elevator was always stuffed to overcapacity. The dozens of Satyamites left behind on each trip eagerly hoped that the next time the elevator opened its doors, they would find themselves within its friendly womb. Unable to bear the thought of lost productivity due to waiting for the lift, I resorted to using the stairwells to physically transport myself from the bottom of the building to the top and vice versa. During these breaks, often times I would partake in strenuous games of table tennis. My innate talent was not enough against my experienced opponents, so I had to work on my conditioning and reflexes. Other times I played carrom, a game similar to billiards or pool but played with bare hands.

Combined with the occasional escape from a wild mob or leap from a bus, the Satyam Diet worked wonders. Not only can a job provide opportunities for career development and financial stability, but it can also have a profound impact on other facets of life.

Arnab Appreciation Days

My contract with Satyam expired on June 13, 2007, a date that marked my one year tenure at the company. Satyam admired my strong work ethic and love for the company and its associates. With glorious joy, my departure from Satyam was celebrated through a series of Arnab Appreciation Days. My humble and approachable nature had made me a popular figure to the employees of the organization, and the endearment was mutual. Tears were shed and fond memories recollected. Goodbyes were said and best wishes exchanged. After serving the company with passion and earnestness, it was time to go our separate ways.

At the farewell ceremonies my new logo was revealed to the public. The stylish "Arnab" word mark with a Bengal tiger proudly perched atop drew rave reviews from the audience at hand during the daring debut. The symbiosis of light and dark, and of man and nature, used the traditional "Arnab" colours of red, black, and white.

Canteen Angst

In the 8th floor of the Hebbal office of Satyam Computer Services Ltd lies the canteen. Affording stunning vistas of Bangalore, much time is spent on this floor by employees. In particular the view of Hebbal Kere (lake) is fantastic. During the course of my 8 month stay at this office, the lake was systematically drained until it was converted into a puddle. Hundreds of workers were then sent out to clear the lake bed of all the rubbish that had been deposited throughout the ages. Once the trash was removed the lake was to be refilled with clean water, allowing it to regain its original luster.


Apart from enjoying the view, a host of other activities take place here - playing table tennis or carrom, listening to Kannada songs on the radio, watching live cricket matches on television (or old games which India won), socializing with colleagues, and the most dreaded of all - eating the food provided by the caterers. A consistently putrid combination of rice, spice, and assorted gravies is offered to the masses who line up with trays in hand for their daily subsistence. The portions are great in size, but minimal in taste. More enterprising associates try to escape this facility in search of tastier dishes, but do so in vain. Encircled in barb wire fencing and high walls, the office is situated in a secluded business park. A shortcut to Hebbal village through military dairy testing facilities has also been blocked by the authorities. The sole remaining option is a hospital cafeteria located within the same complex. This is not a very palatable option either, although its business has boomed due to the influx of Satyam canteen refugees.

Taking a keen interest in the culinary welfare of my colleagues, I arrived at work earlier than usual one morning so I could attend a food meeting held by the building's corporate services staff at 10 am. They explained that the food was carted in during the morning from outside caterers as government bylaws prevented them from cooking fresh food anywhere but on the ground floor. The point that was driven home to attendees of the meeting was that although the quantity of food provided could be changed, the quality could not. One person mentioned that the food was "C/O the Dustbin" to much applause and synchronized head nodding. Another complained that the canteen teaman had laughed at him when he had pointed out severe deficiencies in the tea making process and had told him that he expected an improved product the next time. He was assured by the corporate services staff that next time there would be no such outburst of laughter.

Decision Time

With only a few weeks left on my current contract with Satyam, I now have to decide what to do next. Options include extending with Satyam, searching for a different job here in India, back in Canada, or somewhere else altogether, traveling, or pursuing further studies. No clear favourite has emerged as yet, although I am willing to continue my stay in India.

There is something special about this land and its people, that even with an exceptionally long list of interrelated problems and challenges to face, both man made (overpopulation, poverty, corruption, lack of infrastructure, communal violence, …) and otherwise (monsoon, heat waves, mosquitoes, …), I still have a desire to remain for some more time.

-------------------------*-------------------------

Some nice sayings I have stumbled upon while pondering my future:

“What is this life if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.”
- W.H. Davies, from "Leisure"

"The true tragedy of a routinely spent life is that its wastefulness does not become apparent till it is too late." - Amitav Ghosh

“The purpose of learning is growth, and our minds, unlike our bodies, can continue growing as long as we live.” - Mortimer Adler

“In a time of drastic change, it is the learners who inherit the future. The learned find themselves equipped to live in a world that no longer exists.”- Eric Hoffer

“80 percent of the problems in your life come from wanting what you don’t have. The other 20 percent come from getting it.” - Unknown

“This time, like all times, is a very good one, if we but know what to do with it.” - Ralph Waldo Emerson

“A child leaves the womb, his hometown, his country, each time gaining greater understanding, altering his actions to some degree based on these new experiences and insights, and perhaps becoming a transforming element of society around him.” - Dan Glass

The Bus Jump

At 7pm sharp each working day I leave my office and head towards the area where the Satyam busses are parked. This location changes occasionally to add an element of surprise. None of the company buses have dropping points near my residence, so I have resorted to taking the bus whose route comes nearest to the venue for my fine dining or other entertainment that I have planned for that night. As these are not on the official list of drop points, the bus drivers are reluctant to stop. Sometimes they slow down enough for me to elegantly leap of the bus and make a graceful landing on the surface of the road. Sometimes they only appear to be decelerating, before picking up the pace.

Such was the case, when I departed a bus in a section of town known as RT Nagar (named after the brilliant Rabindranath Tagore) to play a friendly game of pool with my eager colleague Kartik. Misjudging my angle and time of departure from the bus, I landed on the street knees first, lost my balance, fell, then revolved three times on the ground, before springing back up and striking a heroic pose to placate the souls of my female fans who were seated at the front of the bus and witnessed the whole spectacle with eyes wide and mouths open, concern for my well being clearly etched across their demure faces. Meters away the bus came to a halt and out jumped my coworker. Heroically, he came to my rescue, cleaning my wounds and nursing me back to health over the course of the next few hours.

“You’re a puff.” – British roommate upon examining the extent and severity of my injuries.

Too Much SAX

Usually a taboo subject, this was the first time SAX was discussed in my presence at the office. Needless to say, my tender sensibilities were not spared.

*****

The Setting: Conference room, Satyam office

The Actors: Arnab, Reporting Manager (RM), Software Engineering Trainees #s 1-12 (SE)

The Script:

RM: Hello, today we will discuss SAX. Does everyone understand what SAX is?

SE 1-12 (in unison): Yes, sir.

RM (to Arnab): Do you know SAX?

Arnab: No. I have never studied SAX.

RM (to SE 3): Send Arnab documentation about SAX.

SE 3: Yes, sir.

RM: Explain what is SAX.

SE 9: SAX can be used to send data in a unidirectional stream.

RM: What are the benefits of SAX?

SE 4: SAX is fast and efficient.

RM: From now on, SAX will be our first priority.

SE 1-12 (in unison): Yes, sir.

RM: Practice with SAX whenever you have some available time.

SE 1-12 (in unison): Yes, sir.

RM: Dismissed.

The End

*****

Technical Information (from Wikipedia): SAX is a serial access parser API for XML and its name is acronymically derived from "Simple API for XML". A SAX Parser handles XML information as a stream and is unidirectional, i.e. it cannot renegotiate a node without first having to establish a new handle to the document and reparse. With that proviso in mind, however, the SAX parser, since it works in stream mode, is unquestionably faster than its sibling the DOM parser.

ARNABabe: Definition Clarification

Some loyal readers pondered as to whether there was a distinction between the terms ARNABombshell, ARNABabe, and ARNABride, as traditionally they have been used interchangeably in both literature and spoken word. Linguistically there is a distinction between these expressions that may not be readily apparent.

ARNABombshell is an umbrella term that can be used to refer to either the rare ARNABride or to any potential candidates I encounter on my quest for this eternal beauty. ARNABride is the title of my yet to be discovered wife. A high percentage of willing candidates will not be able to attain the coveted designation of ARNABride (aka Mrs. Arnab). These ladies of gentle birth and considerable dignity comprise the ARNABabes. In mathematical terms the union of ARNABride and ARNABabes comprise the set of ARNABombshells.

In related news, former leading ARNABride contender Aishwarya Rai was taken off the market after her marriage to actor Abhishek Bachchan. On the bright side I am now the undisputed most eligible bachelor in India.

*****

“One man's folly is another man's wife.” - Helen Rowland

The Office

The Work

I work in the Product Lifecycle Management (PLM) unit of the mighty Consulting and Enterprise Solutions (CES) department. It is the pride and joy of Satyam Computer Services Ltd. Whenever a client, whether local or international, has some business requirement for Satyam to implement, a project team is formed to devise and deliver the finished product. Based on the stage of the development lifecycle the project team grows and shrinks. Some associates work on more than one project concurrently. Some do not work on any, much to their delight or chagrin. In Hyderabad, I received training on a PLM product known as Agile, while in Bangalore I was expected to first shadow the team to see how they work on a real project and then be gradually phased in to actually performing the development tasks myself. So far I have worked on one project for an aerospace company. I also attend team meetings and lunchs with astonishing regularity. As a highly motivated individual, the remaining time I have been increasing my knowledge base by studying the Indian business, cultural, and natural landscape, as well as improving my technical competencies in areas such as Java Server Pages (JSP) and Extensible Markup Language (XML).

The Environment

A clinical grey and white atmosphere with rows and rows of cubicles and diligent workers focused on completing the task assigned to them by their reporting manager (RM). Based on the client and technology that is the focal point of the work, the cubicles are further separated by dividers. Each of these cubicle clusters is then known lovingly as an Offshore Development Centre (ODC).


The Cast & Crew

A team of "freshers" or new recruits with 0-2 years of experience do most of software development, with more experienced experts offering advice and guidance when needed. Always busy, these meek young fellows rarely interact with me. A group of mid level associates are responsible for tasks such as writing proposals, design documents, and estimation. Busy only occasionally, these older gentlemen are friendlier towards me, taking great interest in my tales of travel and daily survival. The RM is primarily responsible for coordinating the efforts of the team and assigning work, as well as being a contact point for the client for whom Satyam is working on a project for. My RM is a fatherly figure who sees his task as not only involving managing the day to day activities of the team, but in nurturing the careers of the younger employees.
Security guards man each entrance point into the office complex, ensuring that unsavory characters are not able to enter or leave Satyam premises. Meanwhile a brigade of blue shirt wearing office boys perform their daily duties admirably. The elevator button pushers though are not nearly as impressive, and are often found sleeping on the job.

The Motivation

Almost universal is the desire to be sent overseas or "onsite", particularily to the United States of America, as this is seen as the ultimate career enhancing move. The motivation is primarily financial as being remunerated in dollars, pounds, or Euros provides a significant increase in the pay scale of the regular rupee collecting associate. Where previous generations who moved from India in search of greener pastures were quite likely to settle overseas, the new generation still visualizes themselves as going overseas to make a living, not a life. Almost all the youth I have spoken to say they will work overseas for a few years accumulating enough wealth to comfortably live in India for the rest of their days, and then return to the mother land.

“If you want to build a ship, don’t drum up the men to gather wood, divide the work and give orders. Instead, teach them to yearn for the vast and endless sea.”
- Antoine de Saint-Exupery

Satyam Crossover Party

Reeling from the phenomenal success of the Crossover internship program, Satyam decided to host a Christmas party for all its international trainees. The event was held in Hyderabad where Satyam is headquartered and the bulk of the trainees (around 60) are located. Those in Chennai (around 10) and in Bangalore (around 5) were offered train or bus fare to and from the party destination. I gallantly accepted the offer and attended the event.

As the national highway between Bangalore and Hyderabad was purported to be a smooth ride, I chose to take a sleeper bus. The interior of the bus was a direct replica of a second class air conditioned (2AC) compartment of a regular train, with one notable exception – the lack of a toilet. An overnight journey on well paved roads and the lack of urine aroma allowed me to sleep in peace. Half an hour before my arrival in Hyderabad, I was awoken by my bowels. In urgent need to empty my digestive tracts, I elegantly slid of my bunk, loosened my belt buckles, looked uncomfortable, unsuccessfully searched for the aforementioned onboard facilities, and then approached the bus driver. A follower of the Vulcan maxim “"the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few, or the one", the bus driver rejected my appeal for a bathroom break as we had almost arrived at our destination. The first stop could not come soon enough. As I leaped out of the bus a horde of awaiting rickshaw drivers curiously inquired as to where I wanted to go. “Public toilet!”, I said. Soon I felt relief, regained my stoic composure, and headed to my old flat in Banjara Hills.

Sporting the newest incarnation of the ARNABeard – a French cut with the sideburns smoothly connecting with the main facial hair segment (also known as a short box beard) – and a stylish velvet jacket borrowed from a Belgian friend, the city was abuzz with the return of the Hyderabadi Heartthrob. Having wined, dined, and reclined with a bevy of international beauties over the weekend, it was soon time for me to return to Bangalore. The journey in this direction was not as tumultuous.

Bangalore Bound

For my transfer to Bangalore from Hyderabad, Satyam generously provided me with two weeks of hotel stay. The hotel was located in a central part of Bangalore called Austin Town. To be more precise, it was officially in Austin Town Extension, or “Echechu” as the rickshaw drivers preferred to call it. My first impressions of Bangalore were below expectations. When coming to Hyderabad I had no expectations, and they were greatly exceeded. For Bangalore, on the other hand, I was expecting a shining IT hub. What I saw resembled more of a petting zoo than the “Silicon Valley of India”. Apart from the generic cows and dogs encountered on many Indian streets, there were also chickens, goats, boars, rodents, and horses roaming around. The sewers are covered by a series of imaginatively shaped concrete slabs which combine to form the sidewalks. Frequently they are missing, leaving holes of varying sizes for the inattentive passerby to trip on or fall into. What Bangalore does have in common with North American metropolises is the congested traffic and heavy pollution, which causes me great discomfort.

***

To my added disappointment, mixed accommodation, even for foreigners, (i.e. Males and females living in the same apartment) was a taboo. This was unlike Hyderabad or Chennai, two places considered to be much more conservative in their outlook. Thus my options were reduced to (1) living with non-Indian males or (2) living with Indian males. The decision between these two undesirable options came down to one thing – bathrooms. Option (1) would have involved sharing 3 bathrooms between 14 people, and option (2), 3 bathrooms between 8 people. Option (2) prevailed due to its superior 14:3 male:bathroom ratio. Incidentally, that is also the male:female coworker ratio at Satyam, which is still preferable to the 9:1 ratio encountered in the Computer Science department at university. I moved into a flat in a residential area of Bangalore called Cooke Town by some and Cox Town by others. Cockroaches have an affinity to my room in this flat, particularly to my bed sheet and towel. Being a noble and glorious soul, I bought a canister containing some form of poison gas and went on a cockroach crusade.

***

ARNABombshell Update: Cold (or 25 degrees for Indians). The absence of female flatmates, an average 9pm curfew for girls staying in hostels, paying guests, or with their parents, and vegetarian dietary habits severely restricts my access to or interest in the Bangalore bombshells.

Satyam: Cyberspace

After two and a half months, the powers that be at Satyam decided that I should undergo training in Hyderabad, before being shipped off to Bangalore. Thus I made my way to Satyam Cyberspace, an office located in Hitec City in the heart of Cyberabad! Here is a brief timeline of my first day at work:

10:00 am - Arrive at workplace.
10:15 am - My reporting manager (boss) gave me detailed instructions to locate the offices of my unit (Consulting and Enterprise Solutions). Following his advice I reached a door with a sign taped on it - "Use other door".
10:20 am - Reporting manager tells me to wait in front of the door. Contact person will come to meet me.
10:50 am - No one has come to meet me.
11:05 am - Stumble upon alternate entrance. I ask for the whereabouts of the contact person I am supposed to meet. One helpful Satyamite responds "He is out for lunch. Come back in a few hours".
1:30 pm - Return to office after a refreshing buffet meal at the cafeteria. I ask for the whereabouts of the contact person I am supposed to meet. One helpful Satyamite responds "He is out for lunch. Come back in a few hours".
4:00 pm - Return to office after a refreshing sleep in the sofa located in front of the women's washroom. I ask for the whereabouts of the contact person I am supposed to meet. One helpful Satyamite responds "I'll let him know you are here". I find an empty workstation and sit in front of it.
6:00 pm - Contact person arrives and informs me that the training session has been postponed for two weeks as an empty conference room in which to give the lessons was not available during this period. I will have to train myself until that time.
6:30 pm - Leave office.

For the following two weeks I spent my time going over documentation related to Product Lifecycle Management (PLM) and the particular software I would be working with (Agile PLM).

One fine Tuesday morning, I was strolling down the street looking for an auto rickshaw to take to work. Suddenly, an unidentified flying object deposited its droppings on my shoulder. Due to the harsh climate, my excrement detection and avoidance system was malfunctioning. Without adequate warning, I was unable to react to the incoming aerial bombardment. My shirt was left with a greenish stain resembling the gravy of the mint alu (potato) found in the Satyam cafeteria lunch buffet. I had to quickly return to my abode and change garments, before continuing on my journey. Apparently, this auspicious event is a sign of good luck in several cultures.

An Important Lesson

A French Canadian intern was confused as to why Indians used water rather than toilet paper to cleanse their cheeks and the chasm between. An intern of Punjabi descent recounted his father's explanation for this cultural phenomenon: "When someone drops some food on a table, wiping it with a paper towel is a quick fix. But to really clean the mess, washing it with water is a much more effective solution."

On the Bench

For large companies in the Indian IT industry it is customary to acquire human talent before there is an actual business demand for these resources. These international firms often demand a list of available resources and their skill sets before signing a contract for a project, creating a need to have extra staff on hand all the time. In an environment where speed is king, this technique eliminates the ramp up time related to hiring and training talent that is usually encountered before starting a project. This creates the odd situation of many employees who are being paid to do nothing but wait for a project to begin. In Satyam lingo, these people are assigned to a pool known as "Business Wait".

While awaiting my assignment to Bangalore, I have utilized my free time most efficiently. My primary activities are traveling the nation and visiting my relatives. Secondary activities include playing cards, going to movie theatres, watching Hindi music videos, and accompanying damsels on sari shopping expeditions.

Apart from Mumbai, I have visited the following places:

Hampi (2 days) - A totally different form of India with a relaxed atmosphere and no crowds. Formerly the capital of an ancient civilization, this World Heritage Site contains many ruins of temples and forts. The landscape contains massive boulders perched in strange positions. Hired a rickshaw for both days here and the driver also functioned as the tour guide. A group of 19 interns went on this excursion. Some of the temples are atop high hilltops so lots of hiking and climbing is required. Being slow, I fell behind the rest of my group. Suddenly I was surrounded by approximately 20 menacing monkeys. Fortunately, I did not have any bananas so they soon departed.

Delhi (7 days) - Visited my uncle, aunt, and cousin's family. The highlight was my visit to the Supreme Court of India, where I listened to a gruesome murder trial and a spicy divorce case. Also went on a drive to fort/palace that has now been converted to a hotel in Neemrana.

Lucknow (2 days) - Around 6 hours from Delhi by express train, I visited both relatives and tourist attractions here. Stayed at a house that is almost 200 years old.

Chennai (4 days) - One of the my two Korean flatmates had moved away to Chennai for her job, so I visited her for the Independence Day long weekend. I took a Chennai city tour, went shopping, dined at several Korean restaurants, visited beaches, temples, zoos, amusement parks, and museums. I also took the local bus on several occasions as auto rickshaw drivers refuse to use the meter in Chennai. Once I was hanging from the door until the conductor told me to get in. Another time I met a fellow software engineer who was delighted to find out that his salary was greater than mine. We also had a traditional home cooked meal at the house of one of her colleagues with the men in the living room and the women in the kitchen. Also visited the nearby temple towns of Kanchipuram and Mahabalipuram, another World Heritage Site.

Arnabombshell Update: To the dismay of my loyal readers, this section was missing from previous posts. The female intern community has warmed up to the Arnab Sensation, but I still have not had a chance to mingle with the local ladies. The Mumbai maidens stayed indoors due to the monsoon. The Hampi hotties, Chennai chicks, and Lucknow lasses were similarly nonexistent. The Delhi delights were present but appeared to be quite high maintenance.