TIOL-DDT 200 · the untouched capture
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<p><font size="2" face="Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif"> <b><font color="#6633CC" size="3">TIOL-DDT
200</font><br>
13 09 2005<br>
Tuesday</b></font></p>
<p align="center"><font color="#006633" size="3" face="Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif">
<b>DDT is 200 – Thank you</b></font></p>
<p><font size="2" face="Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif"> <b>IT</b> is
not with pride but with absolute humility that we bring you the 200th edition
of <b>DDT</b>. We have absolutely no pretensions about DDT’s contribution
or effect. The milestone of 200 is being used to thank the large number of
netizens who have contributed for the survival of DDT with useful inputs (on
which we could take a large credit without having to produce any useful final
product), timely suggestions, scathing criticism and lavish (sometimes embarrassingly)
praise. A friend even offered to the DDT for a day!<br>
<br>
Above all DDT is grateful to a responsive government which reacted favourably
to the many mild suggestions and the not so mild (read harsh) critical comments.
Writing law, especially with so many lawyers around ready to look for loopholes,
is not an easy task and it is only natural that our Revenue Boards dealing
with complex tax laws do slip. Addressing the convocation in a Medical University,
a famous writer recently remarked, “Now that you have become doctors,
learn a little law; for every student graduating from this medical college,
there are hundred students graduating from Law colleges, waiting to kill you”.<br>
<br>
DDT is for informing you with possible consequences of the Government’s
actions as far as tax matters are concerned. It is only meant to be a guide,
a summary of the day’s happenings, capsuled for your ready use and we
don’t claim any higher or greater role and with your continued support,
we promise to continue the effort. <br>
<br>
The tendency these days is to wring our hands and say everything is rotten,
but we don't feel that way. We are basically optimists – otherwise there
is no DDT.<br>
<br>
Please let us know your views and suggestions as always. DDT values them.
Once again a big <b>THANK YOU</b>.<br>
<br>
Today DDT would like to use a story sent in by a netizen. This is much circulated
in the email route but is still worth reading again, if only to remind us
that we are not really doing a great job.</font></p>
<p align="center"><font color="#006633" size="2" face="Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif">
<b>You don't know what it is to be in the line of fire</b></font></p>
<p><font size="2" face="Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif"> Vivek Pradhan
wasn't a happy man. Even the plush comfort of the First Class air-conditioned
compartment of the Shatabdi Express couldn't cool his frayed nerves. He was
the Project Manager and entitled to air travel. It was not the prestige he
sought, he had tried to reason with the admin guy, it was the savings in time.
A PM had so many things to do! He opened his case and took out the laptop,
determined to put the time to some good use. "Are you from the software
industry sir," the man beside him was staring appreciatively at the laptop.<br>
<br>
Vivek glanced briefly and mumbled in affirmation, handling the laptop now
with exaggerated care and importance as if it were an expensive car.<br>
<br>
"You people have brought so much advancement to the country, Sir. Today
everything is getting computerized."<br>
<br>
"Thanks," smiled Vivek, turning around to give the man a detailed
look. He always found it difficult to resist appreciation. The man was young
and stocky like a sportsman. He looked simple and strangely out of place in
that little lap of luxury like a small town boy in a prep school. He probably
was a Railway sportsman making the most of his free travelling pass.<br>
<br>
"You people always amaze me," the man continued, "You sit in
an office and write something on a computer and it does so many big things
outside."<br>
<br>
Vivek smiled deprecatingly. Naivety demanded reasoning not anger. "It
is not as simple as that my friend. It is not just a question of writing a
few lines. There is a lot of process that goes behind it." For a moment
he was tempted to explain the entire Software Development Lifecycle but restrained
himself to a single statement. "It is complex, very complex."<br>
<br>
"It has to be. No wonder you people are so highly paid," came the
reply. This was not turning out as Vivek had thought. A hint of belligerence
came into his so far affable, persuasive tone. "Everyone just sees the
money. No one sees the amount of hard work we have to put in." "Hard
work!"<br>
<br>
"Indians have such a narrow concept of hard work. Just because we sit
in an air-conditioned office doesn't mean our brows don't sweat. You exercise
the muscle; we exercise the mind and believe me that is no less taxing."<br>
<br>
He had the man where he wanted him and it was time to drive home the point.
"Let me give you an example. Take this train. The entire railway reservation
system is computerized. You can book a train ticket between any two stations
from any of the hundreds of computerized booking centres across the country.
Thousands of transactions accessing a single database at a given time; concurrency,
data integrity, locking, data security. Do you understand the complexity in
designing and coding such a system?"<br>
<br>
The man was stuck with amazement, like a child at a planetarium. This was
something big and beyond his imagination. "You design and code such things."<br>
<br>
"I used to," Vivek paused for effect, "But now I am the project
manager,"<br>
<br>
"Oh!" sighed the man, as if the storm had passed over, "so
your life is easy now."<br>
<br>
It was like being told the fire was better than the frying pan. The man had
to be given a feel of the heat. "Oh come on, does life ever get easy
as you go up the ladder. Responsibility only brings more work. Design and
coding! That is the easier part. Now I don't do it, but I am responsible for
it and believe me, that is far more stressful. My job is to get the work done
in time and with the highest quality. And to tell you about the pressures!
There is the customer at one end always changing his requirements, the user
wanting something else and your boss always expecting you to have finished
it yesterday."<br>
<br>
Vivek paused in his diatribe, his belligerence fading with self-realisation.
What he had said was not merely the outburst of a wronged man, it was the
truth. And one need not get angry while defending the truth. "My friend,"
he concluded triumphantly, ''</font><font size="2" face="Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif"><b>you
don't know what it is to be in the line of fire.''<br>
</b><br>
The man sat back in his chair, his eyes closed as if in realization. When
he spoke after sometime, it was with a calm certainty that surprised Vivek.
"I know sir, I know what it is to be in the line of fire," He was
staring blankly as if no passenger, no train existed, just a vast expanse
of time.<br>
<br>
"There were 30 of us when we were ordered to capture Point 4875 in the
cover of the night. The enemy was firing from the top. There was no knowing
where the next bullet was going to come from and for whom. In the morning
when we finally hoisted the tricolour at the top, only 4 of us were alive."<br>
<br>
"You are a..."<br>
<br>
"I am Subedar Sushant Singh from the 13 J&K Rifles on duty at Peak
4875 in Kargil. They tell me I have completed my term and can opt for a land
assignment. But tell me, Sir, can one give up duty just because it makes life
easier. On the dawn of that capture, one of my colleagues lay injured in the
snow, open to enemy fire while we were hiding behind a bunker. It was my job
to go and fetch that soldier to safety. But my Major sahib refused me permission
and went ahead himself. He said that the first pledge he had taken as a Gentleman
Cadet was to put the safety and welfare of the nation foremost followed by
the safety and welfare of the men he commanded.<br>
<br>
His own personal safety came last, always and every time. He was killed as
he shielded that soldier into the bunker. Every morning now as I stand guard
I can see him taking all those bullets, which were actually meant for me.
I know, <b>Sir, I know what it is to be in the line of fire."<br>
</b><br>
Vivek looked at him in disbelief not sure of his reply. Abruptly he switched
off the laptop. It seemed trivial, even insulting to edit a word document
in the presence of a man for whom valour and duty was a daily part of life;
a valour and sense of duty which he had so far attributed only to epical heroes.
The train slowed down as it pulled into the station and Subedar Sushant Singh
picked up his bags to alight. <br>
<br>
"It was nice meeting you, Sir." <br>
<br>
Vivek fumbled with the handshake. This was the hand that had climbed mountains,
pressed the trigger and hoisted the tricolour. Suddenly, as if by impulse,
he stood at attention and his right hand went up in an impromptu salute. It
was the least he felt he could do for the country.<br>
<br>
<b>PS:</b> Subedar Sushant Singh is a fictional character but the incident
he narrates during the capture of Peak 4875 is a true life incident during
the Kargil war. Major Vikram Batra sacrificed his life while trying to save
one of the men he commanded, as victory was within sight. For this and his
various other acts of bravery he was posthumously awarded the Param Vir Chakra
- the nation's highest military award.<br>
<br>
<b>After that anything else in DDT today would look trivial.<br>
</b><br>
<font color="#FF6666"><b>Until tomorrow with more DDT<br>
<br>
Have a nice day. <br>
<br>
Mail your comments to</b></font> <a href="vijaywrite@taxindiaonline.com">vijaywrite@taxindiaonline.com
</a></font> </p>
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