When Transactions Go Wrong: Learning from Distributed System Failures
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lekshmana.medium.com/when-transactions-go-wrong-learning-from-distributed-system-failures-847125085a12📘 Story 18 – Mukshi and the Shaky Step
🌤️ The Morning That Hesitated
The sun was up, but the sky was grey.
A little warm. A little unsure.
Like the weather wasn’t quite ready to begin.
Amma packed the bag.
“One banana. One water bottle. And no shaky legs,” she smiled.
Mukshi was tying his shoelace slowly.
Daksh sat on the windowsill, blinking once.
“That means yes?” Mukshi asked.
Daksh blinked again.
“That means yes… again,” Mukshi smiled.
🚲 The Forest Shortcut
Today, he took the narrow path.
The one behind the school wall.
It was shorter—but steeper.
He’d never tried it alone.
The ground dipped fast.
Loose stones. A tight curve.
Mukshi stopped at the top.
Daksh circled above, quiet.
He looked down. His legs felt… unsure.
🧗🏽 The Choice
He could go back.
Or… just one foot forward.
Slow. Careful. Stay steady.
He looked at Daksh.
“Not a big deal, right?”
Daksh tilted his head. Not blinking.
“I’m not scared,” Mukshi said.
Then paused.
“Well… maybe a little.”
He took one step.
Then one more.
The bike didn’t slip.
The ground didn’t fall.
His hands shook, just a bit.
But his eyes stayed ahead.
🍃 The Quiet End
At the bottom, the path opened wide.
Flat road again. Trees swaying like they’d seen it before.
Mukshi stopped. Breathed.
Daksh landed gently on the handlebar.
“I did it,” Mukshi whispered.
Daksh blinked. That meant yes.
🏡 Back at Home
Amma looked at his shoes.
“Little dusty,” she said. “You tried the slope?”
Mukshi nodded.
“Just wanted to see if I could.”
Amma handed him a glass of water.
“Not all courage is loud,” she said.
“Some of it just puts one foot forward.”
Courage isn’t always big.
Sometimes it’s small.
Sometimes it’s just you,
and the road,
and a tiny step you weren’t sure you could take.
But you took it anyway.
📖 Story 17 – Mukshi and the Man with the Rope
🏡 Banana. Water. No Hurry.
“Banana. Water. No hurry today,” Amma said, tying Mukshi’s bag.
She was peeling drumsticks slowly. One by one. Her eyes were soft today. Not sleepy. Just soft.
Mukshi tied his shoes slowly.
Daksh blinked from the window.
That meant: “Time to go.”
🚲 A Quiet Ride
The forest road felt slow.
Not sleepy. Just thinking.
The trees didn’t wave. The birds didn’t call.
Only the sound of tires on dust.
Then Mukshi heard something new—
A voice. Steady. Talking to no one.
🥥 The Man with the Rope
He was wrapping a long brown rope around his arm.
A coconut tree stood behind him, tall and patient.
“You climb trees?” Mukshi asked.
The man nodded. “But not for fun. For work.”
He held the rope up.
“This helps me go up. And come down without breaking something I still need.”
(He tapped his leg.)
Mukshi smiled.
🧑🏽🌾 The Climb
He tied the rope, hugged the tree, and rose like he belonged there.
A coconut fell. It rolled toward Mukshi.
“Too old to drink,” the man called. “But full of oil.”
Then a green leaf floated down.
Mukshi caught it.
“Why a leaf?” he asked.
“Because most people miss the small things.”
🧒🏽 Back on the Path
Mukshi tied the leaf to his bag string.
“Will he be there next time?” he asked Daksh.
Daksh blinked once.
“That means maybe,” Mukshi smiled.
Then softer:
“Some people feel like trees.
You only notice them when they move.”
🏡 Home Again
Amma was still in the kitchen, stirring something slowly.
“Your bag’s heavier,” she said.
“Only a leaf,” Mukshi replied.
“But your eyes are wider.”
“I saw a man float up a tree,” Mukshi added.
“Like that beetle from last month. The green one.”
Amma smiled. “Your Appa once climbed like that.”
Mukshi paused. “What happened?”
“He started watching the trees instead,” Amma said.
“Some people do.”
Not all learning comes from questions.
Sometimes it comes from watching…
and catching the leaf someone chose to drop.
📖 Story 16 – Mukshi and the Stuck Goat
☀️ The Pause Before the Ride
Amma was peeling small onions.
Her eyes were wet, but not from crying.
Mukshi tied his shoelaces.
Daksh blinked from the roof’s edge.
“That means yes?”
Daksh blinked again.
“That means yes… again,” Mukshi smiled.
Amma handed the bag.
“Banana. No shortcuts through the thorny slope.”
🚲 A Goat in a Tangle
They rode past the sleeping dog rock.
Past the swing tree.
Then a sound.
“Baa-aa.”
Mukshi stopped.
A small goat was standing between two trees.
Its rope was caught under a thick root.
It tried to move forward.
But the rope pulled it back.
“Stuck,” Mukshi said.
Daksh landed on the handlebar.
He blinked once.
🧠 A Better Way
“I’ll pull it free,” Mukshi said.
He stepped forward.
Grabbed the rope. Tugged a little.
The goat pulled too.
But nothing happened.
Daksh blinked again.
Mukshi paused.
He looked again.
Then walked behind the goat.
Untied the rope from the tree.
And let the goat walk backwards, out of the root loop.
It worked.
The goat blinked.
Shook its ears.
And walked away, quiet and proud.
🏡 The Onion and the Pause
Amma was still peeling.
The bowl was half full.
“You’re late,” she said.
“Helped someone,” Mukshi replied.
“A goat.”
She looked at him sideways.
“Did you lift it?”
“No,” Mukshi said.
“I just looked better. Then found a way.”
Amma nodded.
“Last week you gave away your banana,” she said.
“This week you gave your time.”
Then she smiled.
“You used your head before your hands.”
Daksh blinked once from the window.
“That means yes,” Mukshi said.
“And that still means yes.”
Being smart isn’t always about knowing more.
Sometimes it means…
just stopping to look again.
📖 Story 15 – Mukshi and the Honest Pocket
☀️ The Drop and the Thought
Amma was stitching something by the window.
A needle in her mouth.
She was mending an old cloth. Maybe a memory.
Mukshi tied his shoelaces slowly.
Daksh blinked from the shelf.
“That means yes?” Mukshi asked.
Daksh blinked again.
“That means yes… again,” Mukshi smiled.
Amma handed the bag.
“One banana. And tell the truth, if something asks.”
🚲 The Forest Sounds Funny Today
They passed the usual turn.
Past the broken gate and the leaning tree.
Somewhere near the big anthill, Mukshi heard it.
Bounce. Roll. Tap.
A small, red bouncy ball—rolling in the dust.
He stopped. Picked it up.
Daksh tilted.
“Not mine,” Mukshi said.
“But it’s nice.”
🧒 A Stranger With Small Steps
From behind the bushes, a smaller boy appeared.
Shirt half tucked. Hair sideways.
“My ball!” he said.
Mukshi looked at it in his palm.
“I didn’t take it,” he said.
“I just saw it. I picked it up.”
The boy nodded.
“Okay.”
He took the ball, looked at it like it was still moving.
Then gave a small smile.
“Thanks,” he said quietly.
And walked back the way he came.
🚲 The Ride Felt Different
No breeze. No big talks.
Just Daksh, flying slow.
And Mukshi, thinking quiet.
“I felt like keeping it,” he thought.
“But I gave it back.
I told the truth.”
And somehow,
the road didn’t feel so heavy anymore.
🏡 The Needle and the Pause
Amma was still stitching.
“You saw something today?” she asked.
Mukshi nodded.
“A ball.”
“Did you take it?”
“I felt like keeping it,” he said.
“But I gave it back.
I told him the truth.”
Amma didn’t ask more.
She stitched two more loops. Then said:
“Some things stay lighter if you carry them honest.”
Daksh blinked once from the window.
“That means yes,” Mukshi said.
“And that still means yes.”
Telling the truth doesn’t always sparkle.
But it keeps your pockets light,
And your road a little easier to ride.
📖 Story 14 – Mukshi and the Bottle in the Wind
☀️ One Sock, One Breeze
Amma was drying socks on the line.
One flew off.
Mukshi caught it mid-air and held it like a treasure.
Daksh blinked twice from the gate.
“That means yes?”
Daksh blinked again.
“That still means yes.”
Amma handed the bag.
“One banana. Bottle’s full. Nothing extra.”
🚲 A Crinkle by the Fence
They rode past the well.
Past the dog-shaped rock.
Near the old fence—something shimmered.
A plastic bottle.
Rolling slightly. Stuck between roots.
Mukshi stopped.
“Someone left this.”
Daksh tilted.
“Not ours,” Mukshi said.
“But it’s on our road.”
🫙 The Pick-Up and the Plan
He picked it up gently—like it might be scared.
The bottle was scratched. Empty. Light.
“I could throw it far,” Mukshi said.
Daksh blinked once. That meant: “Why?”
Mukshi looked at it again.
“Maybe if I carry it,” he said,
“it won’t get left again.”
Then he tied it to the back of the cycle with a string.
“We’ll carry it. At least for now.”
🏞️ The Long Road Talks
The forest rustled.
Daksh flew quiet loops.
Mukshi pedaled.
They didn’t talk much.
The bottle bumped behind like a soft drum.
Not heavy.
Just there.
🏡 Amma and the Sock
Back home, Amma was watering the neem tree.
“You tied something new?” she asked.
Mukshi showed the bottle.
“It wasn’t ours,” he said.
“But I didn’t want it to be no one’s.”
She nodded.
“Some things… only get better if someone cares.”
Daksh landed on the handlebar. Blinked once.
“That means yes,” Mukshi said.
“And that still means yes.”
Not everything we carry is ours.
But the road is.
And what we leave behind… shows who we are.
Story 13 – The Coin in the Sand
☀️ The Morning With Sand
Amma was sweeping the veranda.
The sound was soft, like sand scratching a drum.
Mukshi tied his shoes quietly.
Daksh blinked once, then again.
“That means we’re not late,” Mukshi said.
Daksh blinked again. That meant yes.
Amma handed him the bag.
“Don’t collect anything shiny,” she said.
🚲 The Man by the Gate
Near the narrow turn, Mukshi saw someone.
A man—thin, sitting beside a small blue cart.
Daksh flew lower, wings still.
“Morning,” the man said.
Mukshi slowed his cycle.
“Your bird doesn’t fly away?”
“No,” Mukshi said. “He knows the way back.”
The man smiled. “Lucky.”
🪙 The Coin in the Sand
Past the cart, just under a patch of dry leaves—something.
Mukshi stopped. He brushed the leaves.
A small silver coin. A rupee.
“Someone dropped it,” he said.
Daksh blinked once. That meant: Probably.
🧓 A Simple Ask
The man was still sitting by the gate.
Mukshi turned back.
“Did you lose a coin?” he asked.
The man looked surprised. Then laughed.
“No,” he said. “But I’ve dropped many before.”
Mukshi held out the coin anyway.
The man looked at him.
“You could’ve kept it.”
“I know.”
“But you came back.”
Mukshi nodded. “It didn’t feel like mine.”
🏡 Amma and the Shirt
Amma was folding Appa’s shirt again.
“You didn’t bring back anything shiny?” she asked.
“I found a coin,” Mukshi said.
She looked up. “Where is it?”
“I gave it back. It wasn’t mine.”
Amma didn’t speak for a moment.
Then nodded. “Still worth something.”
Being truthful doesn’t always leave your hands full.
But it keeps your pockets light.
📖 Story 12 – Mukshi and the Laugh in the Wind
☀️ The Shirt with a Smell
Amma was folding Appa’s old shirt.
It smelled like warm sun and old soap.
Mukshi tied his shoelaces slowly.
Daksh blinked twice from the windowsill.
That meant: Yes.
“That means yes?” Mukshi asked.
Daksh blinked again. That meant: Still yes.
Amma handed him the bag.
⸻
🚲 The Empty Road
The forest road looked empty today.
No people. No sounds. No lost things.
Just light—soft, like milk through trees.
Daksh flew low beside the handlebar.
No message. No blinking.
Just flying.
⸻
🍂 The Leaf That Flew
A big yellow leaf—curled and light—fell from above.
It landed right on Mukshi’s head.
He stopped. It stayed there.
Daksh looked at him.
“What?” Mukshi asked.
Daksh tilted his head. Like a smile.
Mukshi started to laugh.
A little at first. Then more. Then louder.
He didn’t know why.
But it felt good.
⸻
🧒 Just Joy
No reason.
No plan.
Just something soft in his chest. Like a bubble.
Daksh flapped once.
The leaf flew off.
Mukshi smiled. “That’s okay,” he said.
“It did its job.”
⸻
🏡 Amma and the Shirt
At home, Amma was still folding.
“You look like you did something,” she said.
“Not really,” Mukshi replied.
“But you’re smiling.”
“I think the wind made me laugh.”
Amma looked out the window.
“It does that,” she said. “If you let it.”
⸻
Some joy doesn’t come from anything.
It just arrives—like wind,
if you’re still enough to notice.
✍️ The Sambar Debug
Ever notice how the smallest acts make the biggest difference?
This came to me while eating my amma’s sambar,
thinking about the quiet work we all do.
Some people call it “just sambar.”
I see it differently.
Because that sambar didn’t just appear.
It had:
Potato. Carrot. Tomato. Drumstick. Brinjal. Banana.
Ladyfinger. Dal. Onion. Green chilli. Curry leaves.
And one thing no one mentions — Amma’s quiet care.
She chopped. She waited.
She adjusted the salt. Tasted once.
Then added a pinch of something without telling anyone.
Because she knows who’ll eat it.
That’s not just cooking.
That’s awareness.
That’s consistency.
That’s love without announcing itself.
And I suddenly felt:
Maybe my work is like that too.
Maybe yours is.
You help a teammate.
You fix something small no one saw go wrong.
You hold the balance quietly—without being asked, or thanked.
That’s sambar.
It doesn’t stand alone.
But it makes everything feel better.
So today, if you’ve done something quietly—
for your team, your family, your people…
You’ve made the sambar.
Someone will feel it.
Maybe not today.
But it’s already there.
You’re not invisible.
You’re just working like sambar does—
quiet, steady, essential.
From
— Lekshmana
(Just writing from what I felt.)
Let’s celebrate the quiet wins!
📖 Story 11: Mukshi and the Broken Bell
☀️ The Last Shirt
Amma was folding the last shirt when Mukshi stepped out.
His shoes were already dusty from yesterday.
Daksh blinked twice from the stool.
“Already ready?” Mukshi asked.
Daksh blinked again. That meant yes.
Amma handed him the bag.
“One banana. No snacks today.
Come back before the sun moves past the neem tree.”
🚲 The Turn with the Sound
The ride felt usual.
Past the old well, the leaning tree, the stone shaped like Appa’s slipper.
But near the narrow turn—something different.
A bell sound.
Small. Soft. A single ring.
🔔 The Bell on the Stick
Tied to a short stick beside the bush.
One side cracked.
It leaned, like it had rung too much and bent in the middle.
“Looks broken,” Mukshi said.
Daksh tilted his head.
“It rang,” Mukshi added. “But no one’s here.”
He touched it. It moved but didn’t fall.
“Should we fix it?” Daksh asked.
🧵 Mukshi’s Fix
Mukshi pulled a string from his bag—the thread Amma used to tie banana stalks.
He wrapped it once. Then twice.
Tight. Quiet.
The bell sat straighter now.
He rang it once.
The sound was softer. But clean.
Daksh blinked once. “Better.”
🏡 Back at the Steps
Amma was sitting on the floor, peeling beans into a plate.
“You were quiet today,” she said.
Mukshi placed the bag near the mat.
“Just tied something,” he said. “A small thing.”
“Yours?”
“No. But it looked like it wanted to stand.”
Not everything broken needs replacing.
Some just need a little help… to ring again.
Lekshmana Perumal Murugan 