Twas the night before Minekey, when all through the lab
every mouse was clicking, even a keyboard;
The servers were set by the table with care,
In hopes that St. Delip soon would be there;
The coders were seated all snug in their chairs,
While visions of fatal errors danced in their heads;
And Gaurav with his VAIO , and I with my headphone,
Had just settled down for a long summer’s night,
When out on the datacenter there arose such a ping,
I sprang from the chair to see what was the matter.
Away to the terminal I logged in like a flash,
Tore open the firewall and view the logs .
The daemon on the top of the newly-forked Shell
Gave the signal of kill to objects below,
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature file, and eight tiny links,
With a little old driver, so buggy and slow,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Nilesh.
More rapid than firefox his downloaders they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and got them by name;
“Now, Categorizer! now, Clusterer! now, Aggregator and SearchEngine!
On, Backend! on Frontend! on, Webservice and Widget!
To the start of the MySQL ! to the top of the apache!
Now serve away! serve away! serve away all!”
As empty RAM that before the wild clickthrough came,
When they meet with an obstacle, write to the log,
So up to the internet-backbone the packet they flew,
With the widgets full of information, and St. Nilesh too.
And then, in the speaker, I heard from my comp
The insert and delete of each little record.
As I drew in my mouse, and was minimizing all,
Down the stairs St. Pravu came with Ruffles Lays.
He was dressed all in jeans, from his head to his foot,
And his hairs were all set with bryllcream ;
A bundle of drinks he had flung on the sack on his back,
And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack.
His eyes — how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!
His smile was like a tubelight, his laugh like a speaker!
His droll little ipod was hung around his neck,
And the beard of his chin was as white as the ipod;
The butt of a cigarette he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath;
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook, when he laughed like a bowlful of jelly.
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself;
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And sent all the mails; then turned with a jerk,
And laying his finger aside of his keyboard,
And giving a nod, up the code he scrolled;
He sprang to his chair, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all walked like the end of a process.
But I heard him exclaim, while he drove his bike out of sight,
“Great work you all, and to all a good-night.”
- Robin
