Nikita at her Indian classical dance performance…
If you are going to unwind in a Friday evening…
Unix scripting for a couple of hours… Friendship scripted for a whole life
The year was 1997. I was running a development team. Those start-up days, we often put the new entrants in Consulting Services team to test our software (which, if I may suggest, needed a lot of testing :-); did I mention I was running the development team? 🙂 ). One particular time, we were having a rather difficult time recreating a crash. And as you may know, without a core dump those days, we had very little ability to fix hard to trace bugs.
The plans was to have a full team of consulting services team keep hitting the same sequence of keys till somebody’s version crashed. That night, I was going around the building at the dead of night checking if anybody was still in the office. There was one, very young guy sitting in a corner and looked like he was trying to read something on his terminal.
“Hi, My name is Rajib. What are you doing so late at night?”, I introduced myself.
“I am Kwok Poon. I just joined in consulting services.”
“Very good. I am in development. So, what are you doing so late, though?”
“You are in development?”, I asked, ignoring my question.
“Yes”.
“What is scripting? Can you teach me how to write scripts?”
Now, mind you, this was way back in 1997. He was talking about Unix scripts.
For a moment, I scratched my head and asked “Sure. I am not the best. But I can teach you enough. Now or tomorrow?”.
“Can we do now?”
I glanced my watch. It was 1:30 AM. Sharmila was going to be totally asleep. What the heck. I sat down and for about a couple of hours gave hime some pointers on scripts and most importantly taught him “man” (the manual in Unix where you can get all the help 🙂 – which I was incessantly going to 🙂 ).
While he was picking up at lightning speed, I still was dog tired after a couple of hours. “Should we go now?”, I asked.
“You go ahead, I am going to try a little more”.
Next day, when I came to office, I remember meeting Willie – the head of consulting services and mentioning that there is a young Chinese employee in his group that might make a good name for himself. His intellectual curiosity and sharpness was something to be envious of. That is when Willie told me – “I know. He has automated most of the tests for your development folks. Somebody from your team taught him how to write Unix scripts”. I am not sure I ever told Willie who it was. (I was certainly afraid that a system crash by an errant script code might point back to me 🙂 )
But I absolutely narrated that story to Kwok as the experience I will always remember him by when I met him for breakfast last week in California. I was glad to know that he remembered that night too! I was good seeing him after so many years!!
He was so super sharp that he was soon shipped off to some of our toughest customers with very complex supply chain problems – first to Japan, then Korea, then Singapore, then Taiwan and then Hong Kong. (I might have the sequence of the last four countries wrong). I do remember meeting him once when I was visiting our Hong Kong office.
There was so much to catch up on when I met him this week. Being in the Bay area, it does not take much to guess that he has been with some very successful startups and continues with his entrepreneurial zeal. I found out that he married somebody in Taiwan that he had met in Dallas! That is a story for another day!
I certainly have had the fortune of meeting very sharp people in my life. Some very curious people. And some very humble people. Not too many put it in a package like Kwok has! Always great to have been touched by people like him in my life journey!

Meeting a classmate after 26 years
The last time I saw Sunita – my MBA classmate – was in March, 1991. I think she was running for an interview, all smartly and formally dressed up – during those last days of our MBA school when all the students were singlemindedly determined to ace their on-campus interviews.
I did not go back for the convocation or for the two get togethers that had been arranged by our group. That Sunita lived in San Francisco is something I had found out only a few years back. Even that, it was her husband – Ganapati – who was my senior from Engineering school that I had traced. And then remembered that he got married to Sunita.
I had about an hour between the customer meeting ending in San Fran and meeting one of our sales person that evening. That was enough for me to walk up to Wells Fargo building and call Sunita down to go for a cup of tea!!
She has remained pretty much the same way as I remember from 26 years back. Of course, now that she has a great job, she does not dress that formally any more 🙂
It was good to see an old classmate and catch up on her life journey!!!

Of coding, soccer and getting even with HR!!
It was towards the end of the last century. I was in a startup company that, in spite of me, was doing extremely well. Commensurate with a small company experiencing astronomical growth, we never had enough people and work days used to be excessively long. I distinctly remember wrapping up work around 1:30 am and be home around 2 am almost every single day. If not anything, I used to hang around till every developer left. Not that I was too much of a help in writing code – which explains how I became a development manager – but at least I was there for some moral support.
I also remember that one of my practices before heading to the parking lot was to check into all the rooms in the two floor building to see if anybody from any of the other teams were still working. Invariably – and I mean without any exception – there would be one guy sitting at this desk pounding away at the keyboard. He was always in his soccer clothes – including the cleats. And always had a soccer ball next to him. He was the development manager of another team and he liked his work as much as he liked soccer and would always put in a soccer game in the evening before coming back to office. And he played at a very highly competitive level.
During my business trip last week, one evening, when I finally caught up with that gentleman – Glen Jones, I was a little surprised to see him very visibly limping. Not knowing what had happened to him during the years that I had not seen him, I was, of course, a little worried. Sure enough, there was no need to be. He still plays soccer very regularly and had a temporary hip muscle pull from previous day’s game.
Over dinner, it was very fulfilling to catch up with Glen and his life journey. In fact, we remembered the day when Mark Whipple, Sharmila, he and myself had met one late night at a bar up there in the mountains outside Denver. (I was vacationing with my family much further out – but Sharmila and I had driven down to meet Glen and Mark – both of them used to live in the Evergreen area).
Glen had a very funny story for me. In those start up days, we used to have a very strict discipline around coding. If you ever broke the build (by checking in incompatible code before doing a system wide test locally) during the automated run any night, there would be a hangman noose in front of your door to shame you. Those days, we never thought anything more of it.
Later in life, Glen worked for a very large company. And let’s just say the developers were not exactly as disciplined. And Glen brought in the practice of hanging the hangman noose. Let me remind you – this was a very large company.
Soon, corporate HR was at his door giving him some stern lectures on sensitivities and all that. He told me about how he remembered distinctly about being pulled up by the HR lady.
“What did you do?”, I asked.
“What could I do? I just kept quiet”.
“Later in life did you folks in your team ever have a laugh over it?”
“No, but I got even with the corporate HR lady”.
“You got even with the HR lady? HOW????”
I almost snorted out my bourbon when he nonchalantly said “Oh! I married her”!!
It was a memorable evening!!

My nephew – the web page builder!!
When I call my brother in the evening (for him) pretty much everyday, usually the nephews are busy studying and we never get to talk. But their exams are over now and they are headed to the next grade. When I called my brother up today, he did not even get a chance to pick his phone up. The younger one quickly answered the phone – “Jethu?” (That is what they call me). And for about twenty minutes we chatted. This is the ten year old.
He could barely contain his excitement while narrating to me that he had solved the Rubik’s cube. And then for good measure, raised his voice and let me also know that his elder brother cannot even get one layer done correctly. It turns out that after exams got over, he brought out the cube I had given him three months back when I went to visit my parents and had finally gotten the better of it. Per my brother, he is somewhat of an annoyance now – going around asking people to jumble up the cube for him!
“I timed myself. My best is 3 minutes, 25 seconds and 67 milliseconds”, he declared! Barely trying to conceal my laughter, I asked “67 milliseconds? Why the milliseconds?”. For once he was stumped. He was not too sure why the milliseconds. Finally he blurted out – “That is what the phone said”. Encouraging him to shave off the milliseconds in his next try, I asked him to give the phone to his thirteen year old brother.
That ensued some more fun. The elder nephew straightaway complained that his website still says he is nine years old and that I needed to fix it. A little background here – I have websites for all my nephews and nieces (which is basically their names dot com) and then every time I go to India, when I see something they have created – mostly drawings, paintings etc – I take pictures of them and put it up on the website. I hope someday many decades later, they can use the website to remember their early childhood, the times they spent with me and show them to their next generation.
Now, while I update their pages with their creations, frankly I never go to the “About Me” page. So, it usually stays there unedited for years. And I suspect some friend of his went to his website and pointed out that he is still nine years old. And that is what the complaint was all about.
While on the phone, I went to his website quickly – and it indeed said “Welcome to my page. I am 9 years old – so it will take me a little time to build my website. My uncle (“J2″) is helping me with this”.
Since their exams were over, I proposed that I teach him how to maintain his own page. That way he did not have to be dependent on me and he could control whatever was written there. He was thrilled at the idea but was also mighty scared that he might mess up the whole thing that I had created. I told him not to worry and that we will start small. We will start only by changing “9” to “13”.
After forty minutes of conversation with the two nephews together, I shot an email to my brother with instructions for my elder nephew on how to edit his “About Me” page.
An hour later, after dropping off Natasha at the security line at the airport (spring break is over for NYU), I was walking back to my car when out of curiosity, I checked to see if the nephew had made the change. He was genuinely scared of messing up the whole website after all.
I had to stop in my tracks and laugh my head off when I saw what he had done. It appeared that not only had he changed the number from 9 to 13, he took suitable amount of umbrage at the line that followed – which said it will take a little time to build out the site. He obviously did not want to make any large changes – he was so scared. But his self-righteousness also did not let him let the sentence lie as is. So, he made a small change to convey to the world his self-confidence in managing his website. But no larger a change than was absolutely necessary.
If you go to www.nirbanroy.com and press About Me – instead of “I am 9 years old – so it will take me a little time to build my website.”, now it says “I am 13 years old – so it will take me no time to build my website”.
I smiled the entire drive back thinking thru what must have gone thru his head and how he has absolutely overachieved his goal!!!
Decades later, I hope to show him this blog entry in my website so both of us can laugh at it together!!!
Evening out with one of the youngest and certainly the friendliest couple in town..,
If that is not a picture of contentment…
My second grade classroom teacher!!!
The word on the street was that she was somewhat of a strict teacher. When I first encountered her – in my very first class in second grade, I also realized that she was very tall and towered over little seven year olds like us.
She opened up this book – a small brown cover book called “Brighter Grammar”, as I recollect – and asked “What is grammar”? I raised my puny little hand up – still a little afraid of her. She looked at me and I blurted out “Grammar is the art of putting the right words in the right place”. I am sure you are impressed by my grasp of the language called English at that age. In reality, I had no idea what I just said.
Turns out that my dad had opened up that book before packing it in my bag the previous night and read the first page and that was how the book started. And he taught me those words right then and there. I did not even know what “art” meant, especially in this context. Although I think I knew what “word” and “place” meant.
Back to Mrs. Shastri – for that was what we called her…, she closed the book and asked me “Do you want a double promotion?”. If I did not know what “art” meant, there was no way in God’s green earth I would know what a “double promotion” meant. I was scared out of my wits by her question. Instinctively, I felt that if she had closed the book before talking to me, that could not be good any which way to Sunday. I just bleated out “No, ma’m”. And she proceeded on with the rest of the lesson. Which, of course, I have no recollection of. Because my dad never taught me anything beyond that first line.
When I came home, I complained to my dad that he did not teach me the right thing and he should stay away from my books. My teacher had threatened to give me a “double promotion”. Some hearty laughter from him and for good measure, complete confusion from my side later, I sorted out that I was going to be okay with Mrs. Shastri. I might have even hit a home run with her, for all you knew.
Just as I was starting to feel really great about myself, my father said – “You gave the right answer. You are not mature enough to go to third grade”. And there went all my feeling great about myself. Never quite figured out who was more strict – my dad or Mrs. Shastri.
Why am I telling you this story now? Because I just finished up telling this story to Mrs. Shastri herself. You see, after getting out of second grade – way back in 1974 – a full 43 years later, I actually heard her voice today and talked to her over the phone. I have not met her yet (so the picture here is taken from her Facebook public profile) but I certainly intend to do so at the earliest.
One of the reasons our paths never crossed much after 1974 was that in 1976 I left that school and in 1978 she relocated back to her home state. And yet, it was crazy to find out how close we have been later without knowing of each other’s presence. Apparently, she used to come to Dallas to visit her son – during a time period when I lived there with my family!!! For all you know, I might have even seen her in one of those Indian grocery stores!!
It was great catching up with her and learning about her journey in life. It was exciting to hear about the book she has written (and one more is on the way) and her research and teachings in alternate methods of healing.
Towards the end, I had a nagging feeling that I was forgetting something as I kept my conversation up with with her. And then it hit me suddenly – “Before I forget ma’m… A very happy birthday!!”
As I kept the phone down, a sense of great happiness descended upon me. The fact that I was finally able to say “Thank You” to somebody who influenced me at such a tender age was an unbelievably satisfying experience!
And this story will not be complete without me thanking Mrs. Bose – my third grade classroom teacher – without whole help, I would have never found out Mrs. Shastri’s whereabouts!





