Mistri - uncle

(For the uninitiated : “Mistri” is a generic word in most north-Indian languages for the common artisan – be it a mason, carpenter, plumber, technician, mechanic, watch maker or any such calling where a certain amount of experience, skill & dexterity are required to perform tasks…)

Sandeep was an electrical engineer in charge of commissioning a new breed of electronic elevators that had been introduced in the Indian market. He had never studied electronics  properly in college, and now had to make up for lost time by working hard throughout the day and poring over those college text books at night. (He had in fact, bought those books only after he graduated.)  After all, he had an image to maintain – a façade of invincibility – the company he worked for looked upon him as the last resort whenever it faced problems with those new fangled inventions. It was, indeed, a far, far cry from the days when Boolean algebra and the difference between a thyristor and a transistor flummoxed him completely.

Poor planner that he was, he compounded his problems by enrolling for an evening MBA course. Very early in the three-year ordeal, he wished there were forty hours to a day – there was simply not enough time to study electronics and management subjects. Somewhere along the way he realised that he had begun to think and talk differently – his dream of conquering the world with his engineering prowess had begun to vaporise, lost in the haze created by Economics, Accounting and Law. His mind was one big mess, with Schmitt triggers, debits, credits, flip-flops, economic laws and Companies Act rolling around always in one ungodly heap……

In the midst of all this, his boss called him one day and asked him to commission an elevator on an emergency basis at the private residence of a filthy rich businessman – the fellow’s mother was in hospital and he had to finish the work before she was released. These were assignments he hated – working in office buildings and hotels was OK, but private residences ??? They were an absolute no-no as far as he was concerned….. The boss explained that he was aware of Sandeep’s revulsion for installing elevators in private residences, but this was an emergency with a deadline, and he was the one person who could be relied upon.

He landed at the assigned site and found the installation team had done a very good job indeed. He started his work. There were about seven kids in the house all between six and ten years of age, all terribly excited over the fact that very soon they would have a lift of their own…. As soon as they returned from school they crowded around the installation area, asking questions and passing comments.

“Mistri-ji, itni lambi taar kahan lagega ?” (Where will you use these long wires ?)

“Mistri-ji, yeh lift kab chalega ?” (When will this lift run ?) and so on…. They bothered the installation team no end…. And then it was Sandeep’s turn to become the focus of their attention.

Late in the afternoon on the first day itself, Sandeep was busy testing out the connections on top of the lift car with the children watching and chatting animatedly, when he heard a loud male voice ask, “Lift ka bada mistri aya ?” (Has the head mechanic for the lift come ?) And all the kids chorused, “Haan aya, idhar hai.” (Yes, he is here..”)

Sandeep braced himself for a barrage of questions, but then heard the voice say, “Chalo, thik hai.”(OK…) and move away.

At home that night, he could not sleep. “Mistri ???” “Bada Mistri ???” “MISTRI ???” the words kept ringing loudly in his head…. From childhood he had associated that word with masons, plumbers and carpenters – people who used primitive tools for their trade. And here was he, a graduate engineer working with oscilloscopes and digital probes, in addition to being a management student…. being called a “mistri” ?

The next day, he wore a tie to the site. The installation team was very appreciative – told him he looked different, and they kept working quietly and fast… till the kids came home from school. The first to break the silence was a six-year-old girl, “Mistri-uncle aaj humko lift chadhayenge ?” (Mistri-uncle, will you take me for a ride on the lift ?)

Sandeep stopped working. “Mistri-uncle.” With a wry smile he took the little girl into the lift car and gave her a ride from one floor to the next. She squealed so loud in glee that the rest of the kids simply rushed over and wanted a ride too….. “Mistri-uncle, mistri-uncle…” was the chant… if they did say something else, it did not register…..

The tie, instead of adding to his sartorial elegance, had only managed to add one more epithet.

A day later, his work was done. He gave the lady of the house a ride and asked her to sign-off on the handover document. “To aap-hi hai mistri-uncle ?” (So you are the Mistri-uncle ?) was her appreciative question. Sandeep nodded in grim agreement.

He found a new mission in life… to shed the “mistri” image completely and comprehensively.

*****

More than a quarter of a century later, Sandeep found himself working as a grey-haired, bespectacled project manager of a large multi-component, multi-vendor, multi-phased IT project in a foreign land. Technical issues, people issues, cash flow issues, logistics issues, delivery issues, quality issues, vendor issues, in addition to customer demands, all came together almost everyday – a never-ending set of challenges that changed its hues by the hour.

Most of the problems needed to be solved by somebody else – there were very few that he could address himself. Hectic days slipped into cool evenings over a shot of Scotch…

One evening, he was in one of the Scotch sessions with a few members of the vendor team, most of whom were in the first few years of their respective careers… After a couple of pegs, when the ties, shoelaces and tongues had become quite loose, and they were having an animated conversation about deadlines and delivery challenges, one of the fellows suddenly looked at Sandeep and said, “I have decided something today.”

“What ?” asked Sandeep.

“I have decided to become a manager like you.”

“Why ?”

“Your work is so easy. You write a mail and people appreciate. You conduct a meeting and people rush to finish off what you assign. And then they appreciate you once again for telling them what to do. Look at us. There is no respect for engineers. We are like “mistri-s”. Nobody appreciates the technical work we actually do.”

“Have another peg,” said Sandeep.

*****