A peep into the future–The Indian IT Industry

IT Parthasarathy Iyengar was looking around the room in a daze. Several years ago he had had an accident and slipped into a deep coma. Doctors had given up hope, but thanks to the faith and prayers of his parents, he was now coming out of it. 

What Partha did not know was that he had broken through the millenium barrier. And in fact, was a few years into it. Fortunately, in spite of being an IT professional, Partha was a strong, healthy young man who believed in regular exercises, and never went beyond his daily routine of four whiskeys. And so in just a few days, Partha was back to normal. And naturally, the first thing he did was to meet his good friend
Saxena.

“Hi Partha, welcome back!” said Saxena with
the biggest bear hug you could imagine from his 48 Kg frame. “You know, I started a web solutions company two years ago. Let me introduce you to my team.”

So Partha met Hari, Gupta and Pestonjee, who were all Chartered
Accountants. “We have three other CAs, but they’re not here right now”, said his friend. “And these are Rajeev, Sanjeev, and Ajay. All top notch lawyers,” Saxena added proudly. “And where are the Software guys?” Partha asked.

Saxena just looked at him in a strange way and did not answer. “That room is occupied by our resident doctors”, he said.

“But where are the software people?” persisted
Partha. “Software people?” repeated Saxena, as though he was talking to a stubborn, retarded child. “Oh, sorry, I forgot! You’re from the previous century. Actually, we don’t need software people. We have tools which don’t require any programming. But our clients insist we know their subject matter. And that is why we have doctors, lawyers, accountants,...”

Partha was beginning to feel a little bewildered. “But surely you need some programmers!” he blurted.
“Well yes. Once in six months or so some stubborn client insists on doing it exactly his way. So we do require the occasional programmer. And when we do, we keep them on a contract. Tell you what! I’m meeting Jadeja in the afternoon. Why don’t you join me. He organizes contract programmers for me.”

So Partha went home. Actually he went to his next door neighbor, Anita–one of his former girl friends–and queried, “Hi Anita! How come you’re at home on a Wednesday afternoon? Given up your job?”

Anita looked perplexed. “Of course not! What gave you that idea? I’m actually in line for a promotion!!”

“But how come you’re at home?”

An understanding smile broke out on Anita’s face. “Ah, I understand–the last millenium! Actually, I work from here. I have an ISDN connection–no problem, no breaks. I meet my boss once a week, if required. Otherwise we work with video conferencing. It’s terrific because I can look after my children and also attend office. Tele-commuting, you know!” 

“Does everyone work from home?”

“Well, not really. A year ago we had this really peculiar guy. Completely normal in all respects. Except that he insisted on coming to office. The problem was that no one else came to office. So he would come in his suit and tie, and speak to the boss on the video conferencing system. The boss of course was at home all the time...so sad. Such a good-looking young man.

But completely off his rocker.”

By now Partha was really lost. What had happened to the world? What had happened to the comfortable world of Java and C++? And the parking problems in Nehru Place?

So Partha had a thoughtful lunch and then went across to meet Jadeja. He was desperate. Desperate to meet at least one programmer.

Jadeja met him at home–where else?–and said he would be delighted to introduce Partha to his programmers. 

They walked out of the house and towards the nearby park. Partha’s eyes lit up when he saw a group of young women doing aerobics exercises at one end. 

But Jadeja took him to the other end where some young boys were playing cricket. He called one of the boys over. “Suchin, come here. Uncle wants to meet you.”

Suchin came over. He looked all of 14 years. “Hi Uncle,” he said brightly. 

“Hi”, said Partha, and then turned to Jadeja. “Where are your programmers?”

Suchin looked hurt, “I’m the programmer, Uncle.”

“What!” exploded Partha. “But which class are you in?”

“Ninth”, said Suchin, not knowing where the conversation was leading to.

At this point Jadeja intervened. “Oh, I can see your confusion. Some years ago we realized that silly things like degrees did not contribute in any way towards making a programmer. We tried several engineers, even post graduates, but they only took fat salaries. And left for the USA the moment they had learnt on the job. A complete waste of money.”

“These youngsters are keen. They are available all the way from class eight to class twelve–five years. Can you imagine computer professionals in your century sticking on for five years? And these young boys have no Nakhras. They do terrific programming whenever required–from home of course. They don’t cost the moon. And everyone is happy.”

Partha was slowly beginning to wake up, and see light. He said his goodbyes to Jadeja and Saxena. And went home with a thoughtful expression on his face. He was thinking of the BTech degree in Computer Science that he had very proudly framed in his room.

Late that night his father noticed that the table lamp in Partha’s room was kept on till late. Partha’s mother explained, “Our son is studying very hard”.

“For what?” asked his father.

“For his LLB entrance exam”, said his mother. “You see, he wants to become an IT professional.”