I am from Bangalore – Hub of the outsourcing industry of the world. Outsourcing has irreversibly changed the city. It has changed the way people work and the way they live.
I’ve been in this city for a while now and I was not aware how much it has changed until I experienced it a few days ago.
I need to give a little bit of a background about before proceeding. Bangalore was a quiet sleepy town full of greenery and government employees. People were content with lives – took life as it comes and it comes slowly, very slowly. People lived a placid life and treated others with respect and honor. People worked mostly for government institutions and held one job for their entire careers.
Returning to the subject, connected with the outsourcing is the infrastructure of the city. This has been lampooned across the country and elsewhere and has been the most sought after subject of ridicule.
In order to improve the infrastructure, the city planned to pave the sidewalks (plat forms as it is called in India). Lo and behold – one fine morning, I find people busy working in our humble street – a quiet lane in the outer parts of the city (now much inside the city).
First day we have a group of people wearing helmets (as per outsourcing standards set by some western country) land in our street. They take precise measurements of the street, meticulously document it (for the umpteenth time) and they are on the way to the next street for repeating the “process”. People now influenced with the city’s hi-tech image talk of “task” and “procedure” instead of work. People are now referred as “resources”.
However, still I have not understood why “resources” need helmets in order to take measurements (nowadays referred as “metrics”).
Midway we had rains. It clogged the drains and we had sludge and dirt all over the street. Next, the group for cleaning came – I do not know (in their parlance – “I have no information”). They lifted the garbage off the places where the sidewalks needed to be paved.
I was being a bit altruist – I requested the ‘resource’ to clean the ditch running alongside. The ‘resource’ was a truly rural Indian – betel nut chewing old woman wearing a worn out pink chiffon sarree and a pair of Hawaii slippers. What she answered shook me to my senses. Then I understood how and why India became a software outsourcing giant within such a short period of time. She said, “That’s not my job. There is a separate group responsible for cleaning the ditch. I clean only the sidewalks”. That was a stunning reply. I asked her – who then is going to clean the ditch. She said with
nonchalance – “Please enquire with the call center (centre)”.
India has learnt the lessons of the west – the days of passion in ones work are gone. Now what I need are the “competency” and “skills” to accomplish my “task”. And it is the employer who has to make sure that I have them. After a few days of “handling the process” I don’t get experienced; I don’t pass on the knowledge – I “document”.
As I said this incident brought me back to me senses. I started to my office a bit dumbfounded. But then when I reached office – I realized – I was going to give the same reply she gave to me to my clients sitting in Germany.
April 29, 2006
March 10, 2006
Out of the Window
I take around 3 – 4 breaks a day at work. During breaks, I take coffee or sometimes tea. However, my best refreshment during the breaks is to watch out of the window at our neighbours. Not much to see – the house wasn’t occupied. After a few days, I started noticing a couple of humming birds in their garden. And two squirrels.
The humming birds and the squirrels lived in a mango tree. The birds and the squirrels seemed to live harmoniously. They always seemed to be doing something. Don’t they take breaks like us? Don’t they have weekends? Why are they eternally so agile and appear to be doing something or the other all the time? Once they’ve had their fill – what else do they have to do? I wonder at them and when I go back to work I am totally refreshed and ready to tackle the business at hand with greater vigour. Without their knowledge they enthused me in my work. I shared their lives and they made me happy every time I needed to have a break from work.
There were huge trees in the garden – tamarind, mango, jack fruit and some others which I wouldn’t know. The house was very small and very beautiful. It must have been quite old. It definitely looked over 70-80 years old, perhaps built during British days.
One day I saw huge trucks coming in. After three days, the vintage house was razed to the ground. Someone must have bought the land and the house and the garden and my pets. Inspite of the presence of such huge machinery, I could still see the birds carrying on with their usual business – hopping from branch to branch. A couple of days later, I saw earth movers – within a day the small elegant house gave way to a huge and ugly excavation. It appeared as though sharp claws of a witch were gnawing away at the innards of Cinderella.
The worst was yet to come. They cut the trees – all of them. The big one and old ones, the wise and samritan souls – all were chopped down. Man knows no mercy.
Until the first tree was cut I could see my birds and squirrels. Then they disappeared. I wonder where they would have gone – or are they dead – like the trees. I mourned for them. I even had a hope – maybe they will be back. The mango tree was spared the axe – the birds should be knowing; and the squirrels. The tree must have escaped just because it was very close to the fence. It is spring now and instead of the tree flowering and fresh green swaying leaves in the fast growing branches – I see the old and haggard mango tree covered with reddish dust. It looked tired. The leaves were still and so were the flowers. Maybe, the tree is mourning too.
After a few months – maybe there will be a huge office complex. Maybe one day some one will be sipping coffee and looking at me from the window and wondering – what happened to this Garden City. And he would go back to work – just like me.
But the trees are not going to be back. Not the birds; not the squirrels; and not my enthusiasm for work. Life goes on – but where?
The humming birds and the squirrels lived in a mango tree. The birds and the squirrels seemed to live harmoniously. They always seemed to be doing something. Don’t they take breaks like us? Don’t they have weekends? Why are they eternally so agile and appear to be doing something or the other all the time? Once they’ve had their fill – what else do they have to do? I wonder at them and when I go back to work I am totally refreshed and ready to tackle the business at hand with greater vigour. Without their knowledge they enthused me in my work. I shared their lives and they made me happy every time I needed to have a break from work.
There were huge trees in the garden – tamarind, mango, jack fruit and some others which I wouldn’t know. The house was very small and very beautiful. It must have been quite old. It definitely looked over 70-80 years old, perhaps built during British days.
One day I saw huge trucks coming in. After three days, the vintage house was razed to the ground. Someone must have bought the land and the house and the garden and my pets. Inspite of the presence of such huge machinery, I could still see the birds carrying on with their usual business – hopping from branch to branch. A couple of days later, I saw earth movers – within a day the small elegant house gave way to a huge and ugly excavation. It appeared as though sharp claws of a witch were gnawing away at the innards of Cinderella.
The worst was yet to come. They cut the trees – all of them. The big one and old ones, the wise and samritan souls – all were chopped down. Man knows no mercy.
Until the first tree was cut I could see my birds and squirrels. Then they disappeared. I wonder where they would have gone – or are they dead – like the trees. I mourned for them. I even had a hope – maybe they will be back. The mango tree was spared the axe – the birds should be knowing; and the squirrels. The tree must have escaped just because it was very close to the fence. It is spring now and instead of the tree flowering and fresh green swaying leaves in the fast growing branches – I see the old and haggard mango tree covered with reddish dust. It looked tired. The leaves were still and so were the flowers. Maybe, the tree is mourning too.
After a few months – maybe there will be a huge office complex. Maybe one day some one will be sipping coffee and looking at me from the window and wondering – what happened to this Garden City. And he would go back to work – just like me.
But the trees are not going to be back. Not the birds; not the squirrels; and not my enthusiasm for work. Life goes on – but where?
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