Not *that* child labour

This is just a post-script to the previous post (who will feed them).

There’s a bunch of girls at my work-place who look like tiny tots picked right out of school. We commonly refer to them as “child labour”. If you are someone familiar with that label, this just to clarify that the previous post does not refer to the juvenile-looking lot at flex.

Who will feed them?

HJ keeps telling me stories about his kids. Apparently, one day when the two sweet little devils were upto their usual dose of mischief and more, HJ in an attempt to restore sanctity threatened to pack them off with the garbage truck next morning. The little toddler “dummi” was quite petrified at the thought! For a few days since then, she would wake up every morning asking… “rubbish lorry gone?”… just her way of ensuring that the immediate danger has passed, and she can get back to her nefarious designs. The elder kid had a more immediate reaction to the threat… he looked despairingly towards his mom, realizing that being packed off meant being separated from her, pondered this thought twice over, and finally asked with genuine concern – “then who will wash my bum?!”…

Kids… they never cease to surprise! And that’s how they should be – spinning their nefarious webs of mayhem, breaking the unbreakable, creating the undecipherable, and worrying only about silly things like garbage trucks and bums that need washing.

Sadly, too many kids in this nation spend their time with worries that are non-trivial – worrying about food, about shelter. For millions of families in India today, the child is a bread winner - a source for the next square meal, for a roof over the head, just like an adult. The government now is once again talking tough; is talking about serious action towards shelving out child labour. This is a noble thought indeed, but how far will legislative action help solve the real problem. Laying down the law might at best prevent children from being exploited as cheap labour, but is the law going to feed the children and their families. After all, there is truth in the argument that if you prevent children from working, you are effectively taking away income from families that might need this income just to survive.

No… i’m not trying to play advocate to child labour. And yes, there is truth also in the argument that if law is indeed able to enforce the ban on child labour, it will perhaps force people to think twice before they *produce* children, which in turn has a positive impact on the population issue. All i’m trying to figure out is what happens in the time between when the law is enforced and the time when a social system is available to ensure that no child goes hungry. All i’m trying to figure out is, the millions of children who eat today only because they work and earn their own food; who will feed them?…

Mamaji’s Stretcher

Was chatting with HT just now, and we were recounting the glorious winter of 2000… wonderful time those were… the huge bunch of us just out of college, holed up in a hotel right next to M G Road, and three months of absolute unadulterated fun! Now, the last time HT and I went down this nostalgia trip was when we were travelling to a wedding – that of Raheem Chacha’s sis. Mamaji was there too, and boy, was that trip a load of laughs! Here’s how things went…

Started off from Bangalore on a friday night, in a luxurious Mayuri, which btw is the best bus i’ve ever travelled on. The bus conductor was this habitually cheerful fellow, who apart from sporting a sheepish grin spent the majority of the journey trying to sell us chips and biscuits, and blessing Mamaji intermittently. You heard it right… blessing Mamaji, with his fingers curved over his palm, and sheepish grin intact seemed to be the mission of his night. Mamaji, who of course was not very amused by this unexpected shower of benediction tried to throw this fellow off guard by turning around in the middle of the night, so that his feet were now resting on the pillow, and pulling a quilt over himself. Well, the serial blesser’s conviction was unwavering… he continued to bless Mamaji’s legs through the night, blessed him again when he woke up next morn, and as he alighted finally at Hyd, sent him away with a shower of blessings, enough to last a lifetime.

Our sojourn in Hyd was pretty nice – mostly uneventful, except we did get to see Asia’s *largest* bus depot, and took a ride in Asia’s *biggest* auto-rickshaw!

Now, the real fun began on the way back… we were travelling on a Paulo sleeper this time, which btw is the worst bus i’ve ever travelled on. But that night the condition of the bus didn’t matter, cos we had a nostalgia bus of our own to catch. So HT, Mamaji and I spent most of the night holed up on the top berth, which btw is meant for two people to sleep on. We spent those hours reliving each and every ROFL moment from back in 2000, much to the agony of the *uncle* on the adjacent berth, who kept muttering – “uncivilized youngsters! don’t even allow others to sleep”. Uncleji, if you happen to read this, belated but sincere apologies! Once we’d exhausted our reminiscences, or rather decided we had enough for one night, it was time to hit the sack. HT and I would sleep on the berths we were sitting on all this time, while Mamaji had a berth of his own at the front of the bus. So we accompanied Mamaji to his hallowed bedstead, and what do we find… well there was this tiny bunk, half the width of a hospital stretcher, tucked away in one corner of the bus, right opposite the driver’s seat – it almost seemed to extend right outside the front of the bus. Well, HT and I rushed back to our slightly better lodgings before Mamaji could complain, and the last we saw of him that night was the sight of him vanishing into that tiny hollow of the bunk, that seemed almost like a porthole to the nether-worlds.

Well, suffice to say that Mamaji was not amused; but to this day, HT and I split our guts laughing whenever the *stretcher* comes up for discussion… talking of ROFL moments, that was one complete ROFL night!

Happy SAAD

Belated happy SAAD really! That’s right, System Administrator Appreciation Day just went by… and I wonder if it was just a coincidence that HJ and I were called in to look at two crashed servers just recently. Now, I haven’t been an SA in a long long time, but for those of you who are wiring networks and reconfiguring clusters around the world till date, thanks on behalf of all the clueless nerds working in your labs - thanks cos I know they won’t even recognize you are around, till something goes wrong.

In celebration, here’s a mail someone had fwded to me, on SAAD a few years back:

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The System Administrator – User relationship is like that of a doctor and a patient… this is not a happy relationship, cos sadly, things often go this way:

 (At doctor’s office, phone rings, doctor answers)Dr.: Yes, how can I help you?

patient: Doc, I have a headache

Dr.: OK, take two asprins and call me in the morning

(Hour later)

Pa: Doc, I still have a headache

Dr.: OK, take a stronger tablet, and put some cold compresses on your forehead.

(hour later)

Pa: Doc, the headache wont go away!

Dr.: Strange. OK, come here to my clinic, let me have a look…

A few minutes later, the door opens and the patient walks in. He is a gruesome sight – someone had rammed a woodcutter’s axe into the top of his head, and he was bleeding profusely.

Dr.: What on earth? Why didnt you tell me what the real problem was?????

Pa: But I did, Doc! I *told* you I have a headache!

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http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/System_Administrator_Appreciation_Day