In the Line of Fire

by CHRISTINA VIEGAS
Posted on 2008-08-19
Sitting in the plush comforts of the first class AC compartment of the Shatabdi Express, Mr Vivek Pradhan, a software project manager, grumbled that train travel was a sheer waste of time for a man of his profile who had so many things to do.
Opening his laptop with great pomp, he was determined to put to good use the time on his hands. A young stocky man like a sportsman looked appreciatively at the note book asking Mr Pradhan, “Are you from the software industry sir? You people are amazing as you have brought so much advancement to the country, today everything is computerised and so simple.”
Mr Pradhan smiled depreciatingly as according to him, the young man was being just naïve. As the dialogue progressed, the project manager just mumbled, “It is not as simple as you think, you will never understand, it is very, very complex.”
Assuming the young man to be a Railway sportsman making the most of his free travelling pass, Mr Pradhan even explained to the young man, “People think we sit in an air-conditioned office and don’t sweat. You exercise muscle, we exercise the mind and believe me that is no less taxing.”
Citing the example of the whole Railway ticketing system working with the clicking of a mouse, he went on to boast about the complexity of designing and coding such a system and how he had done it and had now grown to project manager.
To which the young man innocently exclaimed, “Oh! So, your life is easy now!”
Mr Pradhan did not take this easily. It was like being told, the fire was better than the frying pan. The man had to be given a feel of the heat. With an air of belligerence, he asked, “Does life ever get easy as you climb up the ladder? Responsibility only brings more work.”
He went on to explain how his job was to get the work done which was far more stressful. He expounded further, “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.”
Pausing in his diatribe, the project manager realised it was not just an outburst of a wronged man but the truth. Feeling extremely important, he concluded triumphantly, “My friend, you don’t know what it is to be in the line of fire.”
The man sat back in his chair, his eyes closed as if in realisation. When he spoke after sometime, it was with a calm certainty that surprised the software wizard. “I know Sir, I know what it is to be in the line of fire.”
Staring blankly, as if no passenger or train existed, just a vast expanse of time, he continued, “There were 30 of us when we were ordered to capture Peak 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 tri colour at the top, only four of us were alive.”
Mr Pradhan stammered, “You are a…?”
“I am Subedar Sushant from the 13 J&K Rifles on duty at Peak 4875 in Kargil. 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 the soldier to safety, but my captain 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 man he commanded. He was killed as he shielded that soldier into the bunker.”
He concluded, “I have completed my term and can opt for a land assignment. But, can one give up duty just because it makes life easier? Every morning now as I stand guard, I can see him taking all those bullets, which were actually meant for me. I know Sir, what it means to be in the line of fire.”
Shocked in disbelief, and seeming trivial and an insult to even edit a word document in the presence of this valiant man, the project manager switched off his note book.
As the train pulled into the station, Subedar Sushant picked up his bags and gave his hand, “It was nice meeting you, Sir!”
Mr Pradhan fumbled with the handshake. This was the very hand that had climbed mountains, pressed the trigger and hoisted the tri colour. As if by impulse, he stood ramrod straight and his right hand went up in an impromptu salute. He felt it was the least he could do for the country.