Morning Musings: February 25, 2014, Mumbai

One of the things that my friends in US comment about India is the obvious disparity existing side by side. You see an upscale skyscraper and a slum right next door. It feels as though you can never escape the poverty.

                      

Then, there is the moral dilemma of what the rich must do for the poor, who live right next door. Why do we let this side-by-side contrast exist? Have we become blasé to the scenery that surrounds us, when we walk past it every day? I was confronted with this question within myself when I went on a walk in Mumbai where I walked past tiny homes as well as huge apartment buildings side by side. I observed the people coming in and out of the small homes kludged together with corrugated metal sheets. A lady walking out of a toilet, a teenager hanging over the flimsy balcony chatting with an aunt downstairs, kids walking out to go to school with parents in tow – if I took away the condition of the housing or the clothing that one was wearing, they could have been in any neighborhood. None of them were sitting around moping to be living in these conditions – they were all working, moving about their lives making the most of it. Sometimes I wonder what keeps a person living in a small house spare the rich that spend more on the petrol in one day than the poor person’s entire monthly salary.

As I walked by these homes and the large apartment buildings, I could not help but feel a sense of beauty in this obvious disharmony. Why should only those who can afford it inhabit a wonderful place by the sea? There is some poetic justice in sharing the view with those less privileged as well. Since you live next to each other, the one in the small home might not feel the urge to torch the sprawling buildings next door, merely out of neighborly grace.

I found another option that could make up for the disparity in a lady I met on my walk. I noticed a group of children gathered around her with their notebooks. I stopped by and asked her if she was running a school here. She is Mira of Navjyot foundation. She said that she comes there every morning 7:30 to 8:30 am to help local kids with their homework and other questions. She said that the NGO does not need money but they need people to donate time to join her every morning.

                         

As I walked away from her and her volunteers being surrounded by kids, I was left with a sense of hope knowing that the neighbors care.

I feel that the obvious disparity that exists could depress me, but the efforts to bridge the divide certainly left me with a deep sense of hope.

Get Involved with the Navjyot Foundation: Contact Mira Mamnani 
[ Phone: +91 9004390819, +91 9819421398, +91 2226409348; Address: 52, New Silver Home, 15 New Kantwadi Road, Bandra (W), Mumbai 400050 ]

The Road Not Taken Part 2

Just a few days ago, I was in Jaipur and saw a road less traveled by and wondered if it was safe for women to take the path. I lamented on the fact that we even have to think twice about it. And I found my answer this morning. I went on a long walk with my neighbor Bharti. She is part of a team that just completed doing a 100K walk and I wanted to check on my own ability to walk. Bharti and I took off at 5: 30 am and walked for about 3 hours through the villages that surround our gated community. She had a GPS device and was trying to map out a route. Along the way, we got off track and kept walking anyway. We walked through small communities as well as empty fields. And we DID come across two roads that diverged in the woods.  And we took one of the roads and did not even worry about our safety, as we had each other.

So, I felt as though I found the answer for my own fear. The way to take the road less traveled is a matter of taking others into your confidence and being there for each other, instead of doing everything by ourselves. May be in our sharing, we become stronger individually, as well as a community. I thoroughly enjoyed my long walk and will continue dreaming of the 100K walk next year.

Bharti and me

Management principles from a great school principal

Mrs. Kasturi Prasad, my aunt

As a farewell to my aunt, Mrs. Kasturi Prasad, the Principal of Madapati Hanumantha Rao School for 25 years, I thought of composing the ABCs of life that she taught me by what she DID and not by what she SAID. This is more significant than any management book could have taught me: 

Authority

When she walked into the room, people gave her the stage. No one refuted her final decision. She managed up with the authorities to maintain the freedom of the teachers and students who were under her care. 

Autonomy

She found great teachers and gave them the freedom to teach the way they chose. She did not intrude but she was always there if she was needed.

Beyond call of duty

She was available for teachers and students much after they even graduated and it did not stop there. She helped with the admissions of the kids into higher education, getting scholarships, and even getting them married.

Balancing professional and personal life

She woke up at 5am, made all the meals, packed 6 tiffin carriers (three kids, husband, herself and me), left for school on time at 8am, was one of the most accomplished principal for over 25 years. Everything started on time, the school won medals in debating, essay writing, painting and any other activity that it entered. Many of the students went into medicine, engineering, which were the most desirable professions of the day. 

Caring

At age 82, she lost her eyesight and sometimes had to depend on help to move her from place to place. Still, she would sit like a queen in the middle of the room, making calls, keeping in touch with what was happening with family, teachers and past students of the school. The moment someone entered the room, she would recognize them by their voice. She would remember what each guest would like and make sure that either coffee, tea, sweet or savory was served based on her memory of the individual’s preference. 

Curiosity

She was curious about the world, wanted to travel as much as she could. Every summer, she would arrange for a three to four week road-trip. We went in regular buses with the most uncomfortable seats; we slept on train platforms, slept on the long seats, on the floors of buses parked in petrol bunks, often 50 of us staying in just two large rooms packing up the floor space, and we never thought that it was uncomfortable. The worlds opening up in front of us was so magical that it masked any amount of dis-comfort of travel. She let her curiosity conquer any financial obstacles that came her way. 

Courage

When I last saw her on August 14th, she was in the hospital. She held my hand and said “, We are so proud of you. None of us ever supported all the stuff you did. You fought alone and accomplished everything. It is so easy for us to be proud of you now, but I feel bad that we did not support you then.” I was stunned and blown away by her ability to be such an unbiased critique of her own actions, especially in that physical condition. There were times I felt alone when I was young, when I was apart from the pack, but I never held her responsible for it. I always felt grateful for the schooling I had, for my teachers who taught me what matters most. I always felt that the tough experiences that I had actually gave me the strength to move forward. I told her that she gave me the greatest gift of all – an atmosphere of true learning where I was allowed to push the limits of my own capabilities. What she did or did not do at an individual level did not matter at all compared to what she did for the school and thereby for many individuals like me. 

As I grow older and think of my own legacy, I think of my aunt, my father and their siblings. More than any individual accomplishment, their greatest gift was the way they were there for each other, unconditionally. Most Sundays, our car would go to pick up my two aunts and a few uncles, and gather to have a meal together, chat, laugh and just hangout. They never made great plans or promises, and none of them ever said “, I love you,” perhaps ever in their life.  But, at times when I am alone and wondering about my life choices, it’s their unsaid love and unspoken actions that give me all the strength to keep moving forward. 

The new Rev of Reva

My job at INK is to collect people – whether they have anything to do with what we do or not. I always admire people who have a vision, take a stand and be with it way before anyone else can even understand what they are talking about. Here is a story of the man who pursued a vision for a greener world -- way before it was fashionable.   

Today, we talk about Hybrids, Electric vehicles, and sustainability as part of our natural language. But imagine thinking about it 18 years ago. And then to take something as precious as your mother’s name and put on a project that is at best a pipe dream. This is exactly what Chetan Maini did. He launched Reva giving shape to his dreams of a greener world. And he did it in India where he hardly got any support. At a time when outsourcing was just picking up, at a time when MNCs were looking for smart, young professionals to run their companies, at a time when he could have relaxed on family money, he chose to dream. When Chetan started Reva as a joint venture between the Maini group and AEV systems in 1994, he took baby steps in giving shape to his passion and he did not let go of that passion through tough times, even when progress seem to be at a standstill. Over the years, I have heard all types of comments on Reva - some positive, some luke warm but all those who meet Chetan will agree on one thing – he is committed to his vision and is determined to make a difference in his own quiet way. Along the way, he conveyed the dream to Mahindra and got them as his partner.

run on the sun

Sun 2 car

On August 22nd, I got to witness a wonderful moment in Mahindra Reva’s joint journey. The occasion was their all green factory opening. The factory is designed to light up using mostly natural light during the day; the factory vents are designed in such a way that there is natural air flow; the energy generated by a car while testing is fed back into the energy needed to run the factory; the car is designed in such a way that no welding or coloring are required on site.  In addition to the factory, they designed a car port (sun2car)(that could cost approximately Rs 70-80k) made of solar cells that allows the car to charge when you park the EV under it, a parking structure that can be set up in the company parking lots so that the cars can be charged while parked under it (Run on the Sun) and here is the feature that I found most delightful!  IF your car is fully charged and IF you are out of electricity, you can use the energy from the car to light up your home (car2home). Imagine that! They also designed quick charging machines  (Quick2car), which allow you to get enough charge to go 25 miles within 15 minutes. Usually, it takes over 6 hours to charge the car to go up to 100 miles using the normal electric connections at home. Imagine if these stations were all around town so that we can charge the cars quickly as we stop for petrol or diesel now.  

Car 2 home

Quick2car

I was impressed by all the advances, the design, the thought process that went into it, the amazing extended team that worked on it –architects Atelier D’arts to brand company Idiom to name a few-  but what I was most happy about was that I got to witness a happy interlude to the persuasion of passion. Sitting here in 2012, we are celebrating having an Indian company at the cutting edge of a global revolution and what I see is the hard work that has been put in for the last 18 years, the countless lonely moments Chetan must have experienced standing alone in the seat of responsibility, the evaluation process he had to go through before he let someone else be a partner in his dream. As an entrepreneur, I can understand how tough it is to choose to bring someone into your world. It needs to be someone who does not interfere with your passion and opens new doors; who lets you follow your dream and interferes only to set the course right if things go awry; who stands next to you in the spotlight but does not let you fall in their shadow. And I think that Chetan found that perfect partner in Anand Mahindra. And this is why-

At the inaguration of the Mahindra Reva green factory, Anand stood in front of the press to make the opening speech and he started off with acknowledging Chetan and his family for the pursuit of their collective dream. Anand made sure that even with the addition of the Mahindra name, the dreamer remained at the center of attention. In that one gesture, I felt that Chetan picked the right partner who would let him pursue what he was best at, improve the rest at an accelerated pace and make it possible for India to produce one of the most cutting edge innovative products on a global stage.  

I was impressed with the technology, excited by the possibility of Indian innovation making a global impact but mostly what I am rooting for is the possibility for the passion of an individual to be fueled by the reach of a large corporation while keeping the entrepreneurial spirit intact. I celebrate the friendship between Anand and Chetan, and hope that they grow together. We talk about corporate structures, practices, supply chain improvements and many other issues but I know that the MOST IMPORTANT thing that matters in the success of Mahindra Reva is the relationship between Anand and Chetan, and I wish them all the luck to continue their journey as friends and partners.   

A magical wedding in Bali - Day 3 (June 6, 2012)

Elora and Rajiv entring the temple for blessings 

The final day of the wedding was in the temple where they went to take the blessings of the local priest. We all had to wear the local kebaya sarong and a sash. I decided to rent it, which was a wrong idea, as everyone in Indonesia seems to be of size 1 or 2. With great difficulty, I found one outfit that fit me and I was thankful for being spared shopping at this last minute. We all got ready and went to two temples where they did ceremonies and blessed the couple.  The temples were very simple, green and peaceful.  Some of the offerings near the alter were made using sprite bottles and people were wearing shoes and smoking inside the temple. They had two roasted pigs on a skewer as an offering to the Gods. Ritualistically, it felt wrong to wear shoes and allow smoking and meat in a temple but spiritually, the place felt very clean and content. I felt that the Indonesians might have altered some of the Hindu rituals (or may be they are right and we altered it in India) but they were really dedicated people.  Every home has a beautiful temple as a part of the premises. Most of the hotels and homes have Ganesha at the entrance. I love the way they retained the beauty and elegance of the ritual. After the ceremony, we walked over to the dinner area.

Balinese dancers post temple blessings 

In an open area, they created a huge circular arch of intricate bamboo weaves for dinner seating. We entered the arch, and sat down on the floor on the mats that was laid on both sides of a long table running below the circle of the arch. Food was served on banana leaves and was covered with banana leaves. As we uncovered the top set of banana leaves, we saw that the food was served community style where the rice was in one continuous motion in the middle surrounded by various dishes. All of us dug into it and had the most amazing conversations. Post dinner, there was Balinese dance and puppetry in a small theater across the street from the dinner area. There was also some gambling that you played with shells and not money. 

Me and Shilo in the clothes we dared to wear with flat chappals

What was amazing to me was that EVERY aspect of the wedding, be it the locations or how the food was served to the trashcans … everything was recycled or natural. The ceremony was not trying to adopt “green” principals.. it was “being green” in the way it existed. No one was trying hard to be ecologically correct, they just were so .. naturally. That is what I love about Bali. From something temporary as the little baskets they weave to carry the flowers for the offering to the permanent structures of homes, it is filled with perfection and beauty.  No one is being taught design or ecology or even religion. They are everything that you need to be .. naturally. May be I enjoyed only the privileged hospitality where it SEEM like everything was natural but even if that were so, I can say that I have not found that same sense in the most elaborate homes in India. Bali made me feel at home, with myself, with nature and with the natural order of the world that exists around me. And the wedding was a magical vehicle that encompassed what Bali was about in the most beautiful way.

I know why I go to weddings. Despite all the statistics that stare in our face, despite the number of adjustments two different people living under the same roof, we do our best to create these magical moments with all those we love so that later on, when we face tough times, we have someone or the other remind us of the magic of why we got married in the first place. Standing on that rock, when the tall, dark Malayali American Rajiv kissed the slim, elegant Canadian Balinese Elora in her flower dress, with a flowing river acting as the background music, time stood still and I enjoyed the love that existed in that moment. What happens later is up to Elora and Rajiv and I get to keep that moment for a long time to come.

Music and wedding

All pictures by Shilo Shiv Suleman

The Verdict for Rajat Gupta

Rajat Gupta 

When I read that Rajat Gupta was convicted for 25 years in prison, I had mixed emotions – sad, upset, frustrated. When I was at American India Foundation (AIF), Rajat was the co-chair. , and he was always generous, elegant and affectionate. He was the first Indian to break the professional barriers to make it to being the head of McKinsey. He was a great connector of ideas and people. He came up with the ideas, brought together people who had the resources and time to support the ideas, and let them take the center stage to turn the ideas into action. He was the driving force in making both AIF and ISB world class organizations. I am not his family nor would I be listed as one of his close friends but at work, I felt that he was always fair and made sure that we each got our time in the spotlight. He never imposed his ideas but discussed them until everyone was on board.

I still remember attending a dinner party at ISB in Hyderabad while it was under construction. The open quad area with the strong breeze was almost magical. He was like a proud father that night, as he walked us around the campus and showed us where the faculty quarters would be, where the student housing was coming up. He knew every inch of the project in the utmost detail. In fact, one of my friends commented that Rajat could have bought a lot of land around ISB area knowing that the prices would go up when ISB is completed, but he did not do it because she surmised that he was very ethical.

It was not just me but if we go back in time, everyone who met Rajat was impressed with his commitment to everything he took on. They say that some people can fool some people some times, but no one can fool all the people all the time. So, Rajat could not have fooled all of us with his genuineness. He was and I am sure continues to be a very affectionate person.

What made someone like Rajat then participate in insider trading, which is a serious offense? Whether we leak information to a friend or family, it is a serious crime. Was it because he was constantly surrounded by financial hotshots ,who showed off their private planes and multiple mansions so he felt that he needed one too? Did he feel really bad to say “No” to the trading requests of a friend? No one knows the precise reason but there was some external pressure or an extra desire that caused this slip in his judgment. 

Here is what I learned from this episode. If someone as brilliant as Rajat, as nice as him could have this slip, any of us could have it as well. And if the root cause of this slip was perhaps money - then we all need to remember that no matter how rich we are, there is someone richer. If I have a small home, someone could have a mansion and when I have a mansion, someone could have a private plane, and when I have that as well, someone could have a private island. There is no end to what one can materially possess. Pretty soon our definition of what is a “basic” need could change, and having a private jet, not just flying first class, becomes essential to our existence. That is when we tread the slippery slope of error in our judgment.

I realize that it is important to surround myself with friends who live like I do and are happy with their lives while I also celebrate the mansions of my other friends without having a need to own one myself. I also realize the need to surround myself with people who not only support me on the way up but also warn me if I begin to slip. It is important to hang on to those who might not be our most pleasant friends but are the most truthful ones. The more successful we become, the more important it is to hang on to those friendships that started when we were a nobody and friends who have a strong integrity toward what they do almost to a fault. 

I am sad for Rajat because his legacy is seen as that one moment of misjudgment and not his decades of service. I am sad because he did not have that someone who could have warned him of this consequence.

As for Rajat, I feel that the right question is not “How could he?” but it is “How do I not?”

I revel in the praises that I receive, love the little luxuries that life can offer me but I grow because of the ruthless criticism I receive when I make a mistake. And I hang on to those friends and family members who are not afraid to be the bad guys momentarily because they do a world of good to me in the long haul. 


(Picture from Wikimedia Commons)

Walk in the park

I was staying with a friend in GK 2 and went for my usual morning walk. Nestled among groups of homes, GK2 has small parks where people come to walk, jog, do yoga and enjoy the nature. The path is narrow, can hold barely two people walking together leaving no room for anyone else to pass. I went there early enough that there weren’t too many people.  There was a tall, bearded man walking in front of me and a couple of ladies far behind. The man and I were walking at almost the same pace. With him a few steps ahead of me, we had a comfortable  distance between us making it easy for us to share the same path. In the next round, I saw this man who was walking at a fast pace earlier, walk at a very slow pace giving company to an old sardar man. In a pair of beige shorts, stripe shirt, pagdi and a walking stick, the old man was frail and yet fit. Somehow, there was a dignity in his slightly hunched back and strength in his shuffling feet. They were so slow that I had to ask them to excuse me to pass them.  As there was no room to pass, both men stepped aside letting me pass and I touched the old man gently on his hand apologizing.

That slight touch on the wrinkled skin and the grin on the man’s face as he said “it’s ok” suddenly transported me back in time to when my dad visited me in Portland, Oregon. I was training for the Portland Marathon and had to run at least for an hour each day as part of training. My dad was visiting me and wanted to come on the morning runs with me.  He would walk slowly … much like the older gentleman in the park for a while and retrace his steps back to the car and would wait in the car reading the morning paper or writing his diary. I had a tight schedule and had only that limited time in the morning to run and I had to cram as much into it as possible. It was this kind of focus that got me through the training, a tough work schedule and prepared me for the marathon. I would often feel bad that he had to sit in the car for so long till I got back. I would ask him to walk close by to our home so that he could relax at home till I got back. He said that he did not mind it and I did not push it too much either. 

As I passed the older gentleman and the younger man who is walking at a much slower pace now, I thought of my father and wondered if I should have slowed down a bit and walked with him. I always knew but did not want to acknowledge  - that my father accompanied me at every opportunity often at great lengths of discomfort to him just to maximize his time with me.   So, was it OK for me to speed or should I have been more like this young man who was sacrificing his own cardio vascular workout to walk with an older man?

In India, most often, the children adjust to the adult’s pace. I see youngsters choosing careers they hate because their parents asked them to do so, marrying partners they do not even know because they trust their parents’ choice, giving up on the privacy as they choose to be part of joint families. And in U.S, we were taught to be totally self reliant, make choices and bear the consequences. We expected out parents to keep their own pace while we kept ours.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                              

And in each case, the pay offs are huge in their own way. It is because of that focus that I had, I could train for a marathon, succeed at a very demanding job and spend some time with my dad. That focus allowed me to have the monetary flexibility to have my father come to America, travel around the country seeing places that he always wanted to see and enjoy being with me. It allowed me to grow and learn in ways I never imagined.  It allowed me to take risks, fail, get up again and succeed through my failures.

In India, because of the family support that is available in a joint family, one does not have to worry about child rearing, house hold work etc.,  I have seen people who have set aside their personal passion and followed the family business to grow it bigger and then return to pursue their passion later in life.  In each case, the rules are clear and the consequences are well mapped.

It is when we try to translate each culture from the lens of the other culture that the meaning goes awry. And I have a curious split personality that can demonstrate this point.

If I see myself speeding around while letting my dad saunter slowly, I feel terrible.  I feel as though I was a heartless person. But then, I had to earn money to support myself, drive, cook, clean, shop for groceries, do the laundry, take the clothes for dry cleaning, take the car for a wash, oil change, maintenance and keep some time for my personal passions, be it running or rock climbing or river rafting or reading. Since athletics did not come naturally to me, I had to give it a lot more time than an average American colleague of mine .. just to keep pace, let alone win any race. And that WAS the right thing to at that time. And my father knew this. Since he went to school in America, he knew the pace, the demands and he adjusted to my pace allowing me to succeed.

When I see the young man in the park walking slowly with the old man, I could get irritated with the slow pace, of the hindrance to others who may be walking faster; I could feel sorry for the young man because the effect of his cardiovascular exercise has considerably reduced because he had to walk with the old man. And IF I did not see the fast pace of the young man earlier, there is even a danger of me assuming that all Indians are slow, young or old.  If I did not understand that this was a choice that the young man was making out of his own will, I could even assume that this is a repressive country, which makes people do things that they don’t really want to do.   

I am so glad that I had the opportunity to experience both cultures so that I organized my life to fit a marathon and yet spent time with my dad when he was in the hospital, when he needed me most. I learnt how to keep personal priorities aside to achieve goals at hand and I also learnt how to slow down while. And most importantly, I learnt not to judge from my own personal lens but make the best of both cultures who have a great deal to offer. One of the parting advices my dad gave was never to be guilty of any past actions. He said that no matter what I did, he always knew that I loved him. Even when I left him behind on the trail, he was always with me and he knew it.

Little pleasures of life

I love saturdays with no plans.  Today, I took my eight year old son son for his long due haircut.  We went to the usual road side shop, got his usual short hair cut while chatting with the barber in telugu, watching an old movie on the TV mounted on the corner.  When we got home, I helped my son wash his hair.  As he sat on a low stool and bent his head down waiting for me to pour the the tumbler of water down his head, I saw all the small hairs from the haircut settled on the back of his neck and back.  The sight took me back many years and reminded me of my dad and our hair cut session.

When I was a kid, my dad used to insist that I spend the entire weekend with him no matter what he was doing …from the time we woke up and brushed our teeth to the time we were asleep, we were together.  Even if he had an important event to attend, I used to tag along with him. Even though my dad was bald, he was keen to get a haircut almost every other sunday.  That sunday morning, the barber would show up at our home, enjoy my grand mother’s cup of coffee and set up a make shift barber shop in our front yard.  Till I was 8, my dad used get my hair cut done along with him.  While my classmates had long, thick tresses, I had a crew cut! I used to get my haircut while my dad finished reading his morning paper and then I would watch my dad get his haircut while chatting with the barber on every subject from local politics to latest medical discoveries.  Even though the amount of hair that needed to be cut from my almost bald father was little, the ritual was rather long.  As he got done, my dad would turn his back to me to pay the barber.  That’s when I would spot these small hairs stuck to his neck and his back and I would take a small hand towel and wave it across his back trying to dust every bit of hair off his back. It was a game .. our silly game. I can still remember small specs of grey hair splashed on his brown neck as though it was yesterday.  In that moment, I was thankful that he insisted on us being together through all the routine stuff of the day.

 I realized that It is in these insignificant activities that we find memorable moments.  As I brushed the hair off my eight year old’s back and poured the water to rinse off the remnants of the haircut, I hoped that someday he would be thankful for these simple moments as well. 

Indian Adda

Today is India’s Republic Day and I am miles away from home.  As I wandered the streets of Davos, with snow crunching under my boots, cold air brushing my face, multiple accents filling my ears - I spent the time between meetings munching on samosas and veg kabob (can you believe it?). The India Brand Equity Foundation took over a room adjacent to a restaurant and set it up with hot chai and Indian snacks. The India chefs used the restaurant kitchen to create multiple dishes to cater to the Indian palate. The adda never closed at 7pm as it was supposed to but the hostesses never lost their smile and the food never stopped coming our way.  

As I sat there and watched the activity, I realized that one of the best assets India possesses as a country is the sense of hospitality.I thought of my grand mother who managed to whip up SOMETHING for the indefinite amount of guests who seem to flow in and out of our home; of my oldest sister who gets three blouses stitched for every saree she buys so that all three of us sisters can wear her sarees;  of my second sister and her husband who leave their family and move in with us at a moment’s notice to baby sit my son if I have to travel for business; of my maid who stays way beyond her negotiated hours if we are late getting home without expecting any overtime salary. 

What is common among all these people is their generosity and their innate sense of giving without expecting anything in return right away. Yes! there is a moral binding and an expectation that we all take care of one another in time of need.  In some ways, doing something per rules for which an agreed amount is exchanged is desirable because there are no expectations. It leads to a very predictable life of opening something on time and closing on time and not making any exceptions. And then, there is the Indian way where a shop might stay open because they could not say “No” to their customers, which might cause them to delay opening the next day.

As India matures, becomes a “professional” country, some of these courtesies may die and some more predictability might set in. And as we do that, I hope that we do not lose that in-born sense of hospitality, generosity and make exceptions to stay open a tad longer because the customers are really having fun. I hope that we master that dance taking into stride the discipline of the west and the flexibility of the east.  Here’s to the Republic day and hot samosas in cold snow :-) 

A Driving perspective in Delhi

I arrived in Delhi early this morning. I use the same car company every time I visit a city, which means I’ve gotten to know the 3-4 drivers who work there quite well.  It’s nice because they already know my typical schedule, and I see a familiar face at the airport. But I always feel bad for my drivers. Whenever I’m on a trip, I cram in as many meetings as possible – I’m going nonstop from the minute I land till the time I take off. Most of my meetings are in-depth conversations, and it’s difficult to predict if they’ll last for 30 minutes or 3 hours. I feel terrible about the unpredictability of my schedule, because it often makes my drivers wait for long periods of time. At least since the arrival of cell phones, my drivers don’t have to wait by the door to let me know where they parked.  

I’m happy to report that my guilt vanished today. Here’s why: when I got into the car today, my driver Arun said that he and the other drivers had been talking about me a couple of days ago. It got me curious and I asked him what they were talking about. He said that they were all vying for doing duty with me and that they were saying to each other that working for Madam is nice. (For my American friends reading this, “Madam” does not have a loaded meaning in India like it does in the US. It’s a respectful way to address a woman.) I was rather taken aback by his comment, but also silently relieved. I asked him what was appealing in my crazy schedule (Delhi, Gurgaon, Delhi, Noida, all in the same day sometimes, going continuously from 8am to 11pm). He told me that he usually drives to Chandigarh and back on the same day, and that most of the time he does 500kms plus on the same day. So, compared to that, my job is rather relaxing! With me, the drivers get to drive and then relax a bit, because I have long meetings most of the time and don’t need to spend all day rushing across state borders. 

I was really happy he told me this. Otherwise, I would have continued to feel guilty about my travel schedule.  And it occurred to me that he did something that is so simple, but so often neglected.  How many times do we take the time to say something nice to someone? Or let them know what we REALLY think of them? Just by this short conversation, he unburdened me of my unnecessary guilt and made me happy. It’s time for me to think about how to implement the “pay it forward” scheme and tell someone else how happy they make me feel to work with them.  Plus, next time I visit Delhi, I won’t feel bad about making the drivers wait a long time. It just might be the break they deserve. You see! It’s all just a matter of perspective.