Handwaving and the software proffesional

Everyday we witness strange rituals.

Strange amongst these are elections, where conservative elder statesmen
suddenly begin adorning various exotic hedgear (I mean, I have always seen
Vajpayee with a rather large bald spot. It makes me very uneasy to see him
on the TV nowadays, head covered in multi-coloured bathtowels, resplendent
in fascinating clothes and pontificating in general.)

Stranger amongst these are census events, where at the conclusion,
comissioners proudly announce that it has been discovered, ahem... that,
every sentient being in India has 3.5 legs and a hyena. Since this is
evidently untrue, census unfortunately do not happen nowadays, which is a
great pity because I do remember the time when the census taker was held
spell bound by my grandad's gleaming eye (much like the other chap in the
Ancient Mariner), while my grandad furiously racked his brain to remember
his great-granddaughter's name only to realize that well, he didn't have a
great grand daughter, was thinking of some one else, and had made a pretty
thorough ass of himself, besides making the census taker wait in the sun
for an hour and half. I count this among one of the high spots of my life.

But strangest amongst these is the handwaving that software proffesionals
in Tidel Park Chennai indulge in after a satisfying lunch.

Having stood in line, to offer the disembodied hand behind the window, any
leftovers, having thus appeased the gastronomic gods such as may be present
in Tidel, they then go on to the taps.

This is when the fun begins.

The engineers who designed the taps at Tidel, had rather a bright idea.
Aha! they thought to themselves. Let's put in sensors here, so that the
general populace will only have to put their hands before the taps and the
water shall break forth and erase any sins they have from their hands,
including the chicken tikka. Out, damned spot! and all that.

So they went forth and put in their sensors, only in a momentary oversight
caused by two extra large beers, and a rather heavy lunch they failed to
tell anybody where they had put in their sensors.

It wouldn't have mattered much if they had put it anywhere on or near the
washbasin.

But since it was after said, rather heavy lunch and the two beers, they
have been putting it in rather strange spots.

The first pair of sensors is embedded between the bottom of the escalator
stars and the doorstep of the ICICI bank.

This is not bad per se, that water spouts from the tap whenever somebody
rides an elevator up to the bank.

This is bad ( for the hand washer), and amusing for the spectators as the
hand washer, waves his arms, scratches the pipe, and then resorts to
assault and battery in order to get water out of the tap.


The second pair of sensors, in a dramatic break with tradition is connected
to the first tap. Well, all's well and fair you may say. But it is also
connected with the second tap.

Did I also mention that these sensors act a random amount of time after you
wave your hands in front of them. Many a times I have observed patrons turn
away with disgust from the second tap and as the next in line cautiously
approached the tap it would spurt out water at the guy.

But last of all is the third tap, my nemesis at office. Here the engineers
in a fit of devilry, embedded the sensors right in the washbasin, but made
it wander about the circumference of it. This has resulted in a lot of
people who have to wave their arms, in mounting frustration for this rather
errant god to provide water. And just as they are about to leave the god
obliges, with a spurt.

If fold your arms and pray, was the motto of my elders, the motto of this
generation seems to be wave and pray.

Btw, why is it that a line of software proffesionals waiting to wash their
hands eerily reminds me of our parents waiting in serpentine queues to get
into the temple?

Is it because they approach the taps with the same air of trepidation and longing, and subservience they usually reserve for the luckier of our gods like Sachin?