Page 55 - Love Story of a Commando

one side of the lobby was constructed with the names of the fallen engraved
on it. It cascaded silently, mourning the untimely deaths of those who were
never meant to lose their lives so early, so unwillingly.
Outside, life was still as frenetic as ever, only with tightened security.
The auto rickshaw walas would still honk irritatingly, the women in
colourful sarees and hijabs would freely stroll around and tourists would still
click pictures of the majestic Taj, which would glare back at them with a
confidence to contradict the abominations that once happened there.
After all, life has an undying spirit to go on!
I was working on a client server project which provided various
functionalities and services like data sharing and resources regarding
Kashmiri orphans to multiple government offices in Jammu and Kashmir.
These kids primarily belonged to militant-prone regions of Kashmir, and had
been orphaned due to various conflicts. Encounters, terrorist attacks, riots,
confrontations with security forces, or sometimes brutal murders in broad
daylight, to name a few.
We maintained the largest single server in Mumbai, which acted as
the data centre to their government offices. Our job was to provide our
Kashmiri clients full IT support, update the database punctually, replace the
faulty components without shutting down the running server and keep the
connection live with the servers based in their Mumbai location.
It was a very covert project and the data had to be secure so that there
were no risks to those helpless kids being kidnapped only to be trained as
mujahideen. The risk of Kashmiri offices and rehabilitation centres being
bombed was high. They functioned as refugee settlements and there was also
the risk of vicious propaganda before international communities. The
Mumbai-based server was situated in a high security zone and was always
backed up by the best resources for uninterrupted communication with client
servers. The best IT professionals were maintaining it and I was the
communication head of the project who also played the middleman between
the Kashmiri clients and my project leader.
It was so covert that the agendas were never reported at regular office
meetings.
Basically, I would never have anything to say during meetings which
eventually led my colleagues to think that I had still not dealt with the
trauma and was sulking over my miseries, which was true but it never
affected my professional competencies. I did not make any new friends after
the Mumbai attacks and preferred having my lunches alone at my desk, and
burying myself in my work. I skipped social gatherings and office parties,
which had never interested me anyway.
Soon I was enjoying the whole new identity of a snooty, sulking,
crying baby from Delhi and I did not mind it too.