There's an audit going on. I'm escorting the audit team around. 4:30 PM. We're in the finishing house, near the winder, near my office. Checking on a previously known issue. The place is, as usual, noisy. Suddenly, a scream. I see a guy running. For the fire extinguisher. I look at the machine. I see smoke, a small plume. Then Wooosh! The whole machine is billowing smoke. The fire alarm goes off. I think I should run. But I stand. There's chaos around me. I stare at the smoke. There's a fire. A big fire. Time speeds up, as it is wont to do. I scream at the auditors to get out. They react, too slowly. Fire training lessons kick in. Step 1. Shout Fire Fire Fire at the top of your lungs. (I have pretty good lungs, so no problems there) Step 2. If fire generates smoke, cover your face. (shit, no handkerchief) Step 3. Locate source of fire. (can't do that now, haven't covered my face). Somebody shouts "Check all the rooms! Make sure everybody is out!!"...

...The building has been vacated. I run back toward the fire. I'm stopped. No mask. I walk out. Colleagues run to me, as if I had returned from the dead. I find out my boss was stuck in a room with no escape, and had to be taken out through the window. Thank God he's safe. I sit down, and look at the smoke...

...I go to the stores. Torches and masks are required. I load the car. And go back inside. There is smoke everywhere. Can't see. We bring welcome light in the gloom. We need to get some paper cores out. Lots of it. The fire warden puts us in human chains. We start pulling. We're knee deep in water, the fire at our backs; and we're emptying the place. The firemen hold the flames at bay, while we get all the cores out...

... It's been 2 hours. The flames are out. All flammable material was taken out. We go upstairs. The damage is huge. At least 10 days lost. Feel empty. God knows why. It ain't my 8 crores. No lives were lost. Why did I stand, and not stay safely outside?

Then it strikes me. The company does matter. It's a part of me. As long as I'm with it, I own the company. I'm mad. But I feel good. The soot doesnÂ’t matter. We'll get this place up and running. Soon. Real soon.

Beauty is in the eyes of the beholder

I'm doomed. There's no more to it. The only thing I can think about writing here, is something that happened at work. Somebody please save my soul... But anyway.. Here goes...

I took two of my colleagues to the factory for a trial, one from the procurements department (which for the uninitiated gets us all the raw materials for our mill, and keep trying to cut costs on all inputs) and the other from our marketing department (which again for the the oh! So uninitiated sells our finished goods, which for the even more uninitiated, in this case happens to be paperboard; and hence is trying to increase the price we get on them).

The factory at BCM is huge, and we spend a great deal of our time just walking around the place. Now, that's not pretty much different from college, but you never got blasted for not turning up in the afternoon cos you were tired. So, anyway, while we're walking, I listen to the two chaps discussing about the price of the dollar. I'll call the procurement guy P and the marketing guy Q for the time being.

Mr. P: Yaar pulp prices are shooting through the roof! and as if that wasn't enough, the dollar is predicted to rise!!

Mr. Q: Yeah, there is a sensitivity to the positive trend in pulp prices, but I'm sure that we'll be able to gain positive mileage out of the increasing dollar/euro exchange rates.(jeez.)

So P wants the dollar to fall, Q wants the dollar to rise.

Mr. P: Import duties are killing! I wonder why they decided against dropping them.

Mr. Q: But I hope you do appreciate that we're able to maintain a significantly higher price table, solely because of the buffer that the import duties offer us. (jeez. doesn't this guy speak English?)

Hmmm.. Interesting. (not so much actually)

so anyway, we complete our trial. and then both of them look at a pallet being packed. It's usually packed with stretch film, wrapped in several layers around the sheets of paper. The operator, seeing the burra saabs, very lavishly spreads more film on the pallet.

Mr. P: arre please stop him yaar. Waise bhi film ka cost is rising, we'll be ruined if your men operate this way!!

Mr. Q: boss, let him apply as much as he wants, and then more! My customers are killing me because I'm not packing well enough!

I could go on and on. my question here, however, would be: Quo Vadiis, mom ami? (forgive the mixing of phrases)