Slice of Life #13 — Unpacking Mother’s Suitcase

My mother was a very meticulous woman and raised us as such. She was particular about how a bed should be made. In those days, we had mats that we had to roll them to perfection. Folding of clothes was another of her demands. Folded to perfection, putting many a launderer out of work. It was more of her need to have us believe mundane work needed more attention than we paid attention to. Her credo was – ‘A place for everything and everything in its place.’ My dad happily borrowed it and made it his. She did not claim any patent rights to it. A liberal she was, yes.

We all grow old and as did she. One day, we persuaded her to come and stay with us for good. She loved a patch of green at our place. Insisted on tulasi or basil, flowering plants and banana saplings. She used to go to the small garden and plucked every single flower for her ‘Gods’. I even chided her once that she must leave some on the plants for us to enjoy them. She was adamant. Slowly she stopped going to the garden as she was unable to climb the few steps without assistance.

As for her room, the things in her life were all over the room. They were in full cry to anyone walking past. A bit of an eyesore. I had to close the door of her room when we had visitors. One day she asked for the ‘blue’ trolley bag that I used. All the items she needed were on several side tables and when I asked about it, she said that they needed to be visible and within easy reach. She said that the chest of drawers was useless as she did not know what was in them. Come Diwali, I decided to clean her room and put things in place, tucked away neatly and told her about it.

She said nothing. I did see a fleeting shadow of sadness in her eyes. She veered away not wanting to meet my eyes. She was far too much in love with us. As for the suitcase, I got her sarees in them into the cabinet took away the trolley bag she did not need anymore. The room looked spick and span. There was an overhang of a heaviness of heart that I did not notice. Amma passed away a month later.

A couple of months later, I used the blue trolley bag and found that its zip had given up. She did not want me to use it and hence asked for it. And did not want to tell me. These days, the room looks clean, and each time I go in, I feel it was better off with the odds strewn around within easy reach of the only person who loved me unconditionally – my mother. I realized that old people needed an understanding beyond cleanliness. A sensitivity beyond compare. The blue trolley bag was unpacked and tucked away, the emotions were not. They are alive and each time I look at the trolley, it reminds me of her and my spectacles mists up again.

Slice of Work #3 — How to Become a GM!

He was a diminutive chap. A quiet man, whom I will call NR. He had been a secretary to a General Manager of a well-known trading company. He looked ordinary but had a constant smile on him. He was going to be interviewed by SK, a VP of an MNC who wanted a steno typist. At a preliminary interview, a helpful HR person suggested to SK that he need not waste his time as he was not a good MNC fit. SK however waved him away and asked to meet NR.

At first sight, he thought he was indeed a wrong fit. The man sported a broad checked shirt and a light green trouser.No power dressing, this. SK, swallowed his prejudice, offered a seat, and asked about his education. "B.Sc., Physics," said NR. This was interesting, a Physics major was doing the job of a steno-typist! 86% aggregate, he gently added. Now, SK was curious. Sitting in front of him was a man who had a strong academic record but was doing a job of a steno typist. He was acutely aware that he himself had not got those marks in college.

Upon gentle persuasion, NR spoke of his need to take up a typist job to support his family. And after 18 years of working through the system, had moved to be the secretary to the GM. SK forgot all of his prejudice of an MNC look. He asked him some more questions and was convinced of his versatility. It was a sad quirk of fate that NR could not pursue his studies. Here was an outstanding man whose time had come, thought SK.

“You will work with me for only 18 months, and I would like to see you move on,” he said. It was the turn of NR to be surprised. SK added that he wanted NR to grow in the organization and that he would be perpetrating a fault if he insisted on his being his assistant. “You will take on other roles in my function,” he added. NR smiled, moist of eyes. Here was a man who wanted him to grow in the organization!

Everyone loved him. NR was ever present, always ready to help and had earned the tag of reliability about him. SK moved him after 18 months and had him take other roles. NR grew rapidly. He dazzled everyone with his diligence, rigor and focus. His presentations were a treat. Years later, NR went to SK’s house and pressed an envelope into his hand and said that he had an external opportunity and wanted his advice. It was a job offer from a reputed company and for the post of a GM-Operations. SK re read the designation ! What a distance NR had covered! It was the turn of SK to reach for his kerchief.

A secretary to a GM was now a General Manager! A warm hug and some coffee later, SK asked him to move on. There are many in the world who all but need an opportunity and faith..faith in the ability of ordinary steno typist with a checked shirt and green trouser.

Slice of Life #4 — Security Check and the Gift

My friend from an MNC called me. Said my referral was the best and spoke ceaselessly about her.

This was some years ago. It was the downturn time, and I had just stopped at the office security. Jhaji, was the most respectful of the security guards at work. Often he would smile at employees who had to suffer the ripping open of their bags to check for something that is forbidden to bring into the workplace, guns or knives for instance. Of course, he did not expect to find anything, and gently zipped up the bags. Many times I have noticed the wry look of the employees, almost to say, “Hey, you have seen me so very many times. Do you seriously think I have something to conceal? Or, do I look like a terrorist?”

Some have even shouted at him for delaying their getting to work. He would always be respectful and apologize for the inconvenience caused. The smile never abated. I could learn a thing or two from him. What a man! He made quite an impression on his colleagues and so, many of those around would mimic his pleasant service. I felt sorry for him many times and wondered what it meant for him to work this way each day, every day.

One day, he had asked to meet me. I had always wanted to give him something, a small gift for him – a pen. I was sure he would like it. He knocked on the door, and a disarming smile met me. He was hesitant. Said, “I have a favor to ask of you. I have a daughter who has done her BE in Computer Science, and would you be kind enough to refer her for a job, to another MNC (that was close by).”

It was time for me to be surprised. I looked at the impressive resume, and asked him why I could not consider her for our own company, and he said, “Not while I am working here, sir. I don’t want the girl to be embarrassed.”

I promised help and was determined to do my best. He walked away quickly. And I forgot to give him the gift. I was lost in thought – behind this person there is life beyond security checks and smiles – an aspiration for a better tomorrow. What gift could I give him? He had given me the greatest gift, of a purpose to life, regardless of your circumstances.

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Slice of Life #3 — Subway Bags & Rubber Bands

My mother is a ‘collector’ of things and taught me to collect small things for “you never know when they will come handy,” she said. My father was a quintessential ‘disposer’ of things and taught me those skills. On an average, I was fine. Most times I would do some spring cleaning.

At times, unknown to me I would pick up things and ‘salt’ them away. Like the plastic bag that we got our subway sandwich in. One of those is long and six-inch wide so you can take your foot-long in peace. I came to my hotel room, and kept the bag in the drawer and forgot about it.

It was one of those days when things did not go right. I wanted to iron my shirt, and the iron fell off the board. In my anxiety to avoid burning a hole in my shirt, I instinctively reached out to the iron, and somehow I burnt the reverse of my palm. Nothing major, but it was an ugly one. I applied some ointment and went to bed.

The next day, I had to keep the burns from water contamination. And take a shower as well. I remembered the subway plastic bag, and slipped over my right palm. The rubber band of the used baggage tag came in handy as it kept the plastic bag in place. Love the airlines for the tags. It was a great shower. I was smiling at my ingenuity. I could use the soap with plastic covered hand. That was a life saver. The doctor was pleased that I had taken the right steps and made some positive comments about it. I was gloating, the pain notwithstanding. I owe a lot to my ‘collector’ side of a mother in me.

What should I collect and what do I dispose off? Diwali is fast approaching ... And I smiled, thinking of my parents.

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Slice of Life #2 — When Bargain Isn't One

My father taught me to shop for vegetables and some more. Each Saturday morning we used to set out to the bazaar at 6 am. The vegetables would have arrived, neatly laid on the jute sheets on the ground. Expectant vendors waiting for the first visitor to their stall. Anticipation was high. I walked with my dad, a stocky genial and cheery man. He took me all around the place and wished all the vendors a cheery morning while evaluating where the veg was fresh. Also, carefully noting the cost of each of the produce.

He asked me to note them down in my head and I was to let him know where to shop for the lowest cost. Also, he carefully noted where the special vegetables were available. Once in a while, he bent to feel the lady’s finger to test its tenderness and teach me too. Finally when he was done, he told me that we were ready. I was to reel off the places where we got the best deals. He always settled on some old vendor withered with wrinkles of days spent in the sun. The price was always a tad more than others. He would not bargain. Said it was a sign of respect to the vendor. Did not care if we paid more. Said that they worked harder than us. And vendors would cry out for my dad to visit them: “Aiyerre, come here!”

I learnt much from him that it is important to know the lay of the land, be generous and kind, settle only for the best, even if this was a bit more, and most of all, help someone who could do with your assistance. These days I try to visit the farmer’s market at Mehdipatnam. And take my sons too. And in fond remembrance of my dad ask myself – What would he want me to do!

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Slice of Life #1 — A Bittersweet Pill

Many years ago, I used to work in a small town. As a normal practice, while I was leaving work for home, I called my wife if there was anything to be bought for the house. It wasn’t easy going home and then getting ready to go to the bazaar after a long day’s work. I was asked to buy some medicine for my ailing mother. It was a common medicine and there were four medical shops along the way home. I was on my scooter and as I passed the first one, I told myself that there were three dispensaries along the way and it would not be hard to get one that sold this medicine. Lost in thought, I missed the second. The third was crowded. I was impatient to get home and decided to go to the third, the one closer to home but a long way from the second.

As I walked in and uttered the medicine’s name, the attender cheerfully said that it was not available and encouraged me to go to the ‘other shop.’ Wondering what there was to cheer about an unavailability, I moved to the other shop and, to my horror, discovered that it was not available! There was, of course, the helpful suggestion to get to the ‘other shop.’ So, I went to the third shop only to be told that it was out-of-stock and was invited to get to the last shop in town – the one that was closest to my office that I missed going to, the first one. I was utterly upset and annoyed. Finally, I got my medicines at this shop, went outside and stopped to ponder at the message that life was laying out for me.

Take the first opportunity that life presents and don’t wait or procrastinate. Simple things are best done and dusted quickly. Say yes to chances, don’t tarry. Keep life simple – do things now! Sometimes it is the smallest of things that brings the biggest misery. It was a bittersweet pill that I will never forget in my life. I always buy at the first med shop on the way home.  The same does not apply to vegetables, but that is another story!

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Of Perception and Reality

It was a Saturday afternoon, many years ago. I had gone to work to interview someone for a senior Marketing role for a company that I was working for. It was to happen at 3 pm. The office closed at 1 pm and I was the only person in the office. I told the sulking receptionist, who had to stay back just for me, that he was to call me when the candidate arrived.

And then I started the long wait for the person to turn up. I did not even care to read the resume. It was just too long … meant the person was very verbose. I was already forming an opinion. At 3 PM, I went to the reception. I was getting angry, how could anyone keep me waiting! I asked the receptionist and he said that no one had turned up. I did see a person clad in a squalid trouser and a tee shirt, slippers and unkempt hair, unshaven, reading a newspaper. I went back to the room. Came back in 15 minutes and again asked and the receptionist said that save that scraggy person there was no one around.

I mustered some effort, went up to him and asked if he was waiting for anyone and he said he was waiting for the head of HR to meet him. His English was faultless, rich. He can even speak well, not bad, I thought. I asked if he was S and he said he was. I asked him to follow me and walked up a lot briskly ahead up the unlit corridor. All that was going on in my mind was – “Oh God, give me the wisdom not to judge him too early, too soon.” I reached my office and sat behind a big teakwood desk. In those days, we were indulgent to a fault. Very British décor!

Then started a fascinating conversation that was to last half an hour but went on for a full two hours. We spoke about many things and it was easily the best interview that I have been part of. I was listening to a very grounded and wonderful person. At the end of it, I told S that I was very happy about his candidature and that I would get him to meet our MD. We were going to shake hands and at that moment he asked me, “Why have you not asked me about my attire?”

Without waiting for me to respond, he added that he was coming from the cremation ground having laid his beloved uncle to dust and rest. That he had no time to go home and change and wanted to keep the time agreed on and had rushed to the interview. He also added that he was very touched that I had not asked him about it. He said that regardless of the outcome, he would stay connected and left the room.

How do I tell him that it was a great lesson for me? I had formed a negative opinion about him and would not make the cut. And had judged him way ahead of the interview based on what I saw. Between perception and the reality is a mind that is already made up. If the gates of reason were to remove the filters, we can see more clearly. Perception is skin deep while reality is at the heart of the matter. He did not care about his dress, was focused on doing the right thing of keeping time.

Small detail, I still keep in touch with S, who is a CEO of a very large company. A smaller detail, he was from IIM Cal. And did not take the job we offered. Said he wanted a smaller job.

Of Routine Matters and the Gift of Life

He was but an ordinary guy doing an ordinary job in an ordinary company. In the course of his job ‘Joe,’ let us call him that, had many requests and applications coming to him, and in some he had to weigh in with his views. All good. Many were about loans to be sanctioned and some were about making some exceptions. All very routine. He did what he could in his ordinary way to address each of these, on merit.

One day an ex-employee ‘Yo’ called him. Said it was the eighth birthday day of his daughter and asked him to be there for it was an important event. He found some excuse to extricate himself from such ordinary events. Yo was persistent, came home to meet him and told him a few things about his life over the past 4 years since he had left the city. He reminisced about many things including a loan. Said that he had applied for a medical loan for his daughter who was in critical condition at the hospital. And that the application had come up to Joe for approval. It was an amount that was twice the eligibility of Yo. Something that has never been approved of ever.

And yet, Joe had cleared it. With a small postscript ‘as a special case,’ just in case this came up for questioning by the auditors. He asked Joe if he remembered this case. Joe was quick to respond with a ‘no, don’t remember.’

Yo then told him that he owed his daughter’s life to Joe’s timely action. He was running from pillar to post and he had approached Joe with the request and was pleasantly surprised that the loan amount was approved. Joe mumbled something and the meeting was over. But not for Joe!

He sat back and thought about the number of cases he had handled in all his routineness. A small act of approval of a loan, with a small application of mind, had saved a life! It was not an ordinary job after all! An act of great kindness is one where the giver does not know it and the receiver does. If this is what a routine job could do, look what he could have done with application of mind, he thought.

Joe was lost in his world of ordinariness of what he should carry as a gift for the daughter, as she has already has had a gift of life.

Of Affection, Appreciation and Gratitude

I left for my morning walk and came near a park. An eight-year-old child running off the park into a busy road had my heart racing. Suddenly a man appeared from nowhere and scooped up the child, just in time and laughed heartily. And the child screamed with joy, “Dad, you saved my life! You are best father in the world.” That was father-son bonding at its best. Whew! No chiding, no shouting; just two souls in a bond of affection—precious, timeless.

Tea at home after a walk was a routine affair. My neighbor dropped in with his daughter Priya, a youngster who had secured admission into a good technology college. My wife congratulated Priya and sang her praise in high notes, only to be told by the neighbor that this was not a big deal, etc, downplaying her achievement. Priya was a bit under the sun and under the cloud at the same time, and she ran off.

The afternoon brought in news of an unfortunate nature: A good friend and a guru of many years passed away after a brief illness. He was 63. I shared the news of his demise and wrote a few lines of what VS Mahesh meant to me, on Facebook and other groups. Felt guilty that i had not told him this. There was a flood of eulogy from people talking about what a wonderful man he was … and this went on for a long time. We captured our thoughts in a page, which we sent to his widow, later that week.

This morning I was deep in thought of those 3 incidents. It struck me that as we grow older; our propensity to express our affection for someone goes down. Our appreciation, and our gratitude, and what people mean to us, goes down over time. It does pick up when one is a lot older, as in a grandparent’s unbridled love of their grandchild, something that they missed out as a parent, unrequited love, no holds barred ... Small wonder grandparents are loved the world over. 

The child taught me unconditional love. I am sure Priya would have loved to be acknowledged. And what use of praising someone when he long since gone?

Perhaps, in our living day, can we catch someone doing something right each day? Can we appreciate someone once a day? Can we let our friends know what they mean to us? And express gratitude to people who made a difference, in our lives … when they are still around? Maybe you want to start right now? Call your aunt / uncle / dad / mom / friend anyone! And let them know what they mean to you and why. I am sure VS Mahesh would have loved that.

Of Gifts and Return Gifts

Recently, a senior colleague of mine came in from the United States to meet with us.  Let me call her M. A feisty lady, strong willed and tough, she had a gentle side too as I discovered.  I liked her. She was warm and caring. She wanted to meet some orphan children at a modestly funded NGO in Hyderabad. She had come prepared for the visit having spent a whole day shopping for gifts for girls. Her goodies included some shampoo, hair oils, bright-hued hair pins and clips, some chap sticks for cracked lips and warm clothes for the mild winter of Hyderabad. Very thoughtful!

Her trip to the orphanage was eventful, both for her and for many others who she had invited to accompany her. Giving is very touching. The girls were very excited. What M did was to make sure that there was a more sustainable program that would give the orphans a decent education and a life. She had come to the place a year ago, and on that visit, had promised a girl that she would return — and she did. She gave the girls hope, a vision, a reason to live, and a life of accomplishment. Very heartrending!

Later that evening, she called her teenage son who was in college in the US, (his morning) and recounted the day, of where it all started – the day of shopping for gifts for the orphans, to the day she spent with them.  M told me about her chat with her son and the calmness that she had experienced. She added that he seemed ‘off-color’ and was more lost in the exams that were a day away. I told her that one never knows what children pick up as values, and that she could be surprised.

The next day, I met M in the morning, and she had just got off a call from her son. She had asked him whether he had studied well for his exams. He mentioned quite casually that he had gone to the supermarket and spent over four hours. M was furious and asked what he kept him away from his studies for half a day. Her son replied that he had been shopping for warm blankets and food for those affected by cyclone Sandy. He had also formed a group of friends who would help the homeless.

M’s eyes were moist. She no longer cared about the exams. Her son had passed the test, the test of what matters in life – values. She had a faraway look in her eyes.  The gift had been returned and how!  I smiled.

Of Advice — Received and Given

I am just amazed at the amount of free advice that is given out and received each day — all well intended and some very profound.  Some said in jest but precious all the same. So, here it how it all began…

‘Get up early, it makes you healthy wealthy and wise’, said my sleepy wife. It was 6 am. That morning I met my friend Ganesh from Mumbai and he mentioned quite casually that the best advice he received was from his colleague Kumar, who told him, “Sell your bike before you go to Bombay,” This seemed to be an everyday advice anyone would give, but not for Ganesh. This called for his giving up something he really loved – his bike. And yet he knew that there was some truth in the advice as given his health condition, he could not afford to take chances. He said that over the years, he could count off many near misses he has had on the roads in Bombay and remembered Kumar. Advice, oftentimes, may not be the thing you want to hear!

That afternoon, I met my colleague of many years, Ravi, and he said he received the best advice from me! I had asked him to ‘add some focus and commitment to life’ and asked him to ‘buy a house’. He had said it was beyond his means. I added that most things were ‘within your grasp, beyond your reach’, and that he should try. Today, he is a proud owner of a flat in Mumbai, and his appreciation (pun intended), knew no bounds.

This was beginning to be interesting. The same afternoon Venkat, a head hunter called me. I got the best advice from him several years ago. He had told me: “You don’t get far being a rolling stone, so don’t change your jobs every 3 years.” Precious! How can I ever thank him enough? Incidentally, he called to let me know that he had changed his job, but that is another story.

I came home. The maid servant was engrossed in her mopping. I lauded her for it. She responded saying that it was her duty to ‘do simple things exceedingly well’. Here she was giving me some sage advice in a graceful way. I was touched.

Later that evening, I met my sons, one of whom told me, “You got to relax, Dad!” And the other came in a few minutes later and added, “Dad, you got to chill!” I called my mother who lives in Chennai, who asked me to take care of my health. Big hugs, mom!  Advice was raining on me. My wife asked me not to “think too much” but remain “in the moment.” This was a Family package of advice – precious indeed!

It occurs to me that the world cares, people care, friends care, family cares and just about anyone you meet – care for you. They all express it in different ways.  We like some of the advice we get, some we don’t. I recognize that if anyone gives an advice, it is because they care!  I felt good.

A dear friend called me and advised me to pen my thoughts. Even as I write this, I am beaming with the joy of gratitude, of a day well spent – heeding the priceless advice... of the priceless!

A Prophetic Lie

In the morning of August 29, 2011, we had the Hyderabad Marathon and a dear friend of mine, Bhasker Sharma, from Bangalore, was participating in it. He had asked me to come to the Gachibowli Sports ground at 9 a.m., by which time he would have finished the race. I went there at about 9 a.m. and was very excited as I was meeting Bhasker after many moons.

At the gate, I was flagged down by an officious police official who prevented me from going to a spot closer to the stadium. I told him that I was there to receive the marathoner who had come in first in the event. He looked at me and flagged me off with a big smile on his face. I had lied, as I had no idea if Bhasker came first or not. I did not feel good about it. It was playing on my conscience, even as I alighted from my car.

I met Bhasker on the track and realized he was a celebrity! He had done some 31 marathons and everyone seemed to know him. I was in great company. I was basking in his glory and was holding his bib, his small eats, anything for somebody to know that I was Bhasker’s friend! I managed to catch up on old times but after a marathon, it is a bit hard, and Bhasker was patient with me.

The Prize distribution was on and we were heading toward the podium. Then came the vote of thanks. No, Bhasker’s name was not called out. Dutifully, I got Bhasker and his brother into my car to the nearest auto-rickshaw and he left. I felt guilty on two counts — I had not spoken to Bhasker long enough or taken him home, and I had lied to the police guy at the gate.

About 4 p.m., I called Bhasker and caught up with some quick chat on the phone as he was heading out to the airport. He said that it was a great marathon, his personal best timing of sub-4 hours, and added that it was a bitter-sweet one for him. He had been called out by the organizers for being the first in his category (above 50 years), and at that time we were out of earshot. He missed receiving his trophy from the Governor. His prize would be sent to Bangalore.

And I remembered the conversation with the policeman and smiled. It was a prophetic lie, indeed!

Sometimes in life, if there is an universal truth out there, even a lie turns true...

Of Ambys, Splutters and Stutters...

Years ago, there was this senior colleague who I much admired. Let me call him Dr Rajan. A fine man, he used to be especially kind to his car. He owned an Amby – the good old Ambassador – and used to speak to his car in a kind sort of way. Winter mornings were not good for the cars in those days. Fiats and Ambys were subject to a lot of ignition coaxing and cajoling, and the whining of the engine in the mornings was a regular feature of the times.

Dr Rajan used to talk to his Amby, allow for her to splutter and in all the intervening times would say sweet things to her and forgive her whining. Notice the gender here. To Dr Rajan it was a ‘her’. I was very young then, and used to watch him with amusement. He believed in her and was often said that he knew she could ‘make it’.  It appeared as if his car u came to life after his words of endearment. I learnt then that a dollop of kindness here and there worked wonders, even with inanimate objects!

Many moons later, I had the opportunity to meet a fine student called Chandramohan at a campus at Tiruchi. He was a brilliant man and a passionate soul – a whiz with the web and a technophile. He was shortlisted for the final round of interviews on the basis of his test scores. Before the interviews, he met me – something I always evade, but could not avoid this time – and started to speak to me. I noticed a lot of stutter in his speech. I knew that this had its foundation in confidence and told him that he needs to ‘keep his chin up’ and do his best, etc. When he told me about himself and I was confident he would leave a mark wherever he went. He was passionate, intelligent and caring. I liked him a lot for I knew we had a winner on our hands. However, I knew that it was going to be tough for the young man at the interview, what with his minor handicap.

The interviews started and when Mohan came in, I confronted my worst fears. He seemed nervous and was stuttering a lot. He could not do much and despite my support, his candidature was looking at risk. The panel members sat in the evening to discuss the finalists and I guess, it was my lucky day that I was able to persuade them to clear Mohan. He was put into Sales and Marketing – killer job for such a person! His boss was unrelenting and for about two years he silently bore the brunt of her demands that he “should not stutter.” Long story short, Mohan decided to leave and start his own firm. On his last day at work, he came to me and thanked me and I asked him to have belief and faith in himself – he would one day be an outstanding guy. I told him that I trusted him and his abilities more than anyone, and he thanked me for my words of encouragement. I wish I had done more to help him.

Many years later, Mohan tracked me down, and wanted me to address his top team in Chennai.  He was a hugely successful software entrepreneur and was doing very well in his field. He was very upbeat, very effusive of his praise of the company where we worked and recounted in fondness of what he had learnt in the place where we had worked before. I was a bit embarrassed and while he was being a good host, I was lost in the wonderment of his accomplishments. I had no doubt about his capabilities. His team was very passionate about the company and were very competent professionals. The meeting ended, and I came away feeling really on top of the world. As I sat in my car, it occurred to me that in all the time I was with Mohan there was something very different about him. The stutter had vanished!

What a spoon of self-confidence and self-help can do to oneself! We all need to help ourselves. And we need someone who can be in that hour when support is needed most … someone to help get past that splutter – those cajoles and coaxes with a gentle touch – to find that confidence in ourselves. And I remembered Dr Rajan.

Of Faith and Target Practice

I was part of a team that represented my college in rifle shooting as part of the National Cadet Corps (NCC.) We had to travel almost 30 km to a firing range every morning and this extended even during the weekends. Our coach, Major Sairangan was a remarkable guy – a man of great character and principle.

One Saturday, I remember distinctly, Major Sairangan called us to the shooting range very early in the morning and we were up there at 6 am in our uniform, but the rifles hadn’t arrived and the ammunition was to be brought by Major Sairangan. The firing ranges of our days were quite different from the ones that you see today. It was a huge open field and there was a hill in the horizon … there were no trees around and the place was completely barren and fenced off to ensure that there was no casualties.

We were waiting for Major Sairangan out in the sun… 6 became 9 became 12 became 4 pm and there was no trace of the Major. We didn’t want to leave the place because we knew if he said he’s going to come – he will come! In those days, we didn’t have mobile phones, but the spoken word was more powerful than anything else. There was a certain connect with Major Sairangan. We had huge faith in the Major as we knew him as a man of his words. It was well past lunchtime, but still nobody wanted to move out of that place. It was almost four – we were hungry, irritated and terribly tired.

At 5 o’clock a rickety army van arrived at the range. And Major Sairangan bounced out of the vehicle. He was disheveled and his clothes were dirty. The first thing he said was “Folks, let’s unload the materials and start shooting. We started unloading and getting ready for target practice. There was no mention of the reason of his getting late or thanking us for waiting for him. By the time we set up the targets and started shooting, it was 5:30 pm and getting dark. We could hardly see, but all that our coach said was if we were to fire by the candle light, we would. And we fired away. Would you believe it – we had the best group score ever! Although we could hardly see the target, we scored our best. At a point when we could see almost nothing, we stopped firing and packed up.

Finally, when everything was done, the Major opened up: “Boys, I am very proud of you! You had the faith in me… you waited and you knew that I would come. Just wanted to tell you that my truck broke down in a remote area and it was a desolate place. So, I had to repair the vehicle myself. I went down to the town to get the parts, came back and fixed the broken axle myself. That’s why I was late. By the way, I have brought some food for you.”

That evening, as I sat down, I realized how extremely important it is to have faith in yourself and trust in your people. How you perform depends a lot on the kind of relationship you have with your team mates and your leaders. Relationships have a great way of testing you out. But if you have the resilience and the faith then even in the darkest of days, when the sun is failing you, and your spirit is weak, faith in the relationship can get you the highest score and on target.

It is clear that we succeeded because we had the faith. There was a huge urge to let Major Sairangan know that we wanted to give our best. We didn’t want to make him feel low that it is because of him that we didn’t fire well. But, we really wanted to show him that as much as we had the faith in him that he should have faith in us… that we would be giving our best!

This is one story that will always remain with me as hugely inspiring. On any of my bad days, I recount this story and feel the palpable power of faith and trust, resilience and self-belief in me.