“Yesterday is history, tomorrow is a mystery, today is a gift of God, which is why we call it the present.” — Bil Keane
Looking back, I regret very little in my life—except buying a scooter. If I could live my life again, that would be the one decision I would change. From the fifth standard onward, I rode a bicycle to school; before that, I walked.
When I joined engineering college, I bought a Royal Enfield Bullet 350. It was heavy, reliable, and remarkably stable—a motorcycle that served me faithfully throughout my undergraduate and postgraduate years. It carried me not only to college but also to the many libraries scattered across town. After completing my postgraduate studies, I accepted a good job in Pondicherry. Rather than take the Bullet with me, I left it with my brother. In Pondicherry, I bought a Bajaj KB 100. It was not as robust as the Bullet, but it proved dependable enough. Later, when I changed jobs and moved to Madras, I sold it to a friend.
In Madras, I was struck by the city’s slow-moving traffic, so I opted for a lightweight, gearless scooter. It was the lightest motor vehicle I had ever owned, apart from my bicycle. Ideal for navigating congested streets, it required no gear shifts—only the accelerator and the brakes. I chose convenience over safety, though I did not realize it at the time.
One evening, while returning from the office, a speeding car ran a red light and crashed into my scooter. I was thrown into the air and landed headfirst on the pavement. I often wonder whether, had I been riding the heavier Bullet, I might have escaped with far less serious injuries instead of sustaining a T5 spinal cord injury.
But the past cannot be changed, and I moved on. After several surgeries and almost ten months of rehabilitation, I returned to work, driving a hand-controlled car from my wheelchair. I continued for another two years until my body could no longer cope with the strain. In those days, working from home was not yet common, so I resigned and began working independently.
My career had taken an unexpected turn, but I was determined to build something new. Together with two friends—an accountant and a hardware maintenance engineer—I started a software development company. I was the only one who knew how to run such a company. We hired fresh graduates, and I trained them in the art and science of software development. Our first overseas project came from the United States. My team and I completed it ahead of schedule and to the client’s complete satisfaction. Pleased with our work, the client awarded us another project. Soon, assignments flowed in from many countries—the United States, the United Kingdom, Singapore, and others. My partners and employees traveled abroad to implement projects, while I worked from home because of my disability. The business flourished, but success turned bitter: my so-called friends eventually forced me out, leaving me with nothing.
I was devastated and uncertain about the future. My brother encouraged me to try my hand at writing. I had more than five years of experience with IBM Mainframes, yet at the time there were no Indian books on the subject. Imported books were prohibitively expensive, costing more than Rs. 1,500 ($30). I approached a publisher and convinced him that there was a market for affordable IBM Mainframe books priced at around Rs. 400 ($8). He agreed, and I wrote three books in three months—all of which became bestsellers.
The year was 1997, and the Y2K problem was creating enormous opportunities for Indian software professionals with Mainframe experience. Training institutes mushroomed across the country. I wrote a comprehensive 1,200-page book titled IBM Mainframe and Year 2000 Solutions. It became an instant bestseller, selling more than 500,000 copies. Then came the Internet revolution, and I wrote Internet for Everyone, explaining Internet, email and the World Wide Web in simple language that anyone could understand. It too became a bestseller. Soon, many publishing companies approached me, and I began writing for some of the most respected publishers in the country.
In 2000, I wrote a book on software configuration management for Artech House, a respected publisher in Boston, USA. At that time, only three outdated books existed on the subject. My book became one of Artech House’s bestsellers and remained at the top for three years. I had become a well-known technical writer, with many bestsellers to my credit. I continued writing for the next twenty years before retiring.
Today, slowed by age, I devote my time to reading and writing poetry. I have learned to leave the past behind and live in the present. Each morning after breakfast, I settle down with a book or a notebook, determined to read or write at least one poem. Reading and writing keep me joyfully occupied throughout the day.
I do not know what tomorrow holds. I am now seeking a publisher for my first collection of poems. With a little luck, I hope that before long I will see my words in print—not as a technical writer, but as a poet.
The past is history, the future remains a mystery, and today, at last, is enough.
