Slice of Work #14 — The Man Who Hired His Boss

I knew Thomas who wanted to move out of his firm and had landed a cushy job in the same city that he lived in. A big plus. The added advantage was the prospect of some stocks that would fetch him good money. He seemed coasting along in his life after he had put down his papers.

As was his nature, he called up a few of his friends to let them know about it. When he called up one of his ex-team members, Sheen, he got a strange response. While all others had supported his move, Sheen was hesitant and Thomas asked him about it. Sheen said, “Thomas, I have been thinking about who should be my new boss in the firm that I have joined. I think it should be you.” Thomas was a bit hesitant but he asked Sheen to progress the referral.

Things moved fast and he got selected. It was an MNC and the leaders he met were very fine people. He forgot all about the stock and the money. It did not seem to matter. The only rub was that it was in another city. He called up Sheen and told him about his selection. Sheen was at his persuasive best to take the job. Thomas consulted his family and the shift happened. A new city, a new culture and new settings.

Thomas grew in his role and did well for himself as I knew he would. I have often thought of Sheen. He was so selfless and had the courage to ask his ex-boss to join the firm that he was working. In a way he hired his boss. I knew Sheen and asked him the reason for asking Thomas to join his firm and laughingly he said, “A known devil is better than an unknown one.” He is a good man and I don’t think I learnt enough from him, he added.

Sheen moved on to become a leader in another firm and is doing well for himself. Leaders are made, and made differently. Each one of them. The best of them find goodness in others and even hire them as their bosses.

Slice of Work #5 — Appraisals: Year-Ends and New Beginnings

It was one of those dreaded meetings. The very thought of getting to discuss appraisals with his new reporting manager was daunting. It had been not been the best of years, and Vasu knew it. But did not want to acknowledge it. The previous year was a great one for him. It was a long walk to the manager's cabin.

VG his manager shook hands with him and asked him to “take the chair.” It sounded ominous already. VG was gentle and invited him to speak about the high points of the year and what played to his strengths. VG kept nodding his head and was encouraging, And playing back his strengths to him. Not a trace of the dreaded word “but…”

VG summarized his accomplishments and asked him as to what he thought were things that could have been done better and asked, “How can I be of support to you? Vasu was in full flow now and held back nothing. He blurted out his failings. And VG said 'it is okay to have a setback and important to look ahead'.” And then the questions about what he wanted to do in his career and what he was good at. This was getting better!

VG, a well-respected man and had a sterling career of over 25 years. He broke into a monologue. Said that there would be some great years and some not so good ones. Difficult for anyone to have an outstanding year, year on year he said. Some ups and some downs were part of the journey.

It was most important to focus on becoming a better professional. And the years that were the down years, were the ones that taught him the most. Focus on the upward trajectory of personal growth. And as for compensation, it would follow you like your shadow, he added smilingly.
Made sense. Vasu felt much better and accepted that he had had a ‘modest’ year. And VG was not even focused on that. Vasu was looking at his mirror, but this mirror told him what he was capable of as well. His focus was clear, he would play to his strengths. He would be a better professional. The best. The ‘chair’ was only a seat after all. He walked out with a hope, an agenda and a smile spreading on his face.

Slice of Work #4 — Typewriting and Aspirations

I was in college, years ago. That was years ago and my first summer holidays was coming up. I had saved some money for doing ‘something useful’. Quickly I went in and enrolled myself at the typewriting institute to learn to type. Yes, in those days, we had proper places that taught us to do that. They also taught you shorthand, care a ‘Pitman’ book. I had in my hands a page of asdfgf…. :lkjhj..neatly typed. And as soon as my dad came home I thrust the page at him. I had notions of him praising me for putting the scarce money to good use.

My dad ripped the typed page flung it to my face and asked me if I had decided to end up as a typist and if I had any high aspirations at all. And told me to never go to the place again. My plea to complete the course fell on deaf ears. He was okay for me to lose the deposit on the course. I felt lousy but stomached it. Grow up he said, expand your reach of what you can become, not end up as a typist. I protested that it was a skill. He shooed me away. I sulked and sank.

Many years later I was interviewing someone for an assistant. Naga sat in front of me and had all the credentials. My final question was – ‘what did you do in your undergrad and what was your ‘percentage’. He said he did his Physics and secured 86 %. It was my turn to stand up in amazement! Here was a top class graduate and he did a secretarial job for 20 years!! He said that he had to as he did not know what else to do. Naga got hired that day with a promise that he would not stay an assistant if he worked with us.

I went home, lost in thought of my dad who years ago had forced me to think beyond ‘typewriting’. Chiding my aspirational deficit, stoking me to think beyond. I did not understand him then. I was smarting in anger at losing money for a program. I was blind to the concern of my dad who did not want me to get sucked into a profession that he once started with ... and the long perilous climb thereafter.

At times, we don’t understand what it means to think big. What it means to reach our potential. To look for something that is beyond your reach within your grasp. To take the hard road, and expand your horizons. I am always in debt to my dad. BTW, I type really fast now. And as for Naga, he went on to do great things in the years after he joined us, and is now a GM in a large company.

Slice of Life #9 — Mindful Timelessness

I met her in the airport lounge the other day. As ever, immaculate in her crisp saree and warmth in her eyes, on a call, a Kindle in her hands. The moment she saw me she excused herself from the call, rose and gave me an affectionate hug. And we got talking. And I was keeping an eye on the time, just to make sure I did not miss the flight. One can get lost in conversations with Dr. Indira Parikh. We had some 20 minutes to go. The intensity of the conversation was evident. And ‘how’ of it was not lost on me.

Several years ago, Dr. Hemant Parikh, her late husband, an Indian scientist and the young bride Indira Parikh were invited to attend the grand dinner ball in Stockholm on the 10th of Dec. Nobel Prize investiture. And Indira all of 21 years was the only one in an elegant saree, while the wives of Nobel laureates and invitees were in evening gowns and boring black dresses. As always she was the center of attention and many of the Nobel Laureates went out of the way to meet her. In a moment of innocence and naivety she asked one if she could spend an hour with him in his office the following day to know more about his work. There was a shocked silence, as no one would dare ask time of such luminaries.

He was a kindly man and he agreed. His secretary quickly told Indira that she was to meet him only for 15 minutes the following morning. And asked her to come in early so he was not kept waiting. Indira was nervous as came early. At the appointed time she was ushered into his room. There was a great calmness about him. They spoke for a long time, a long long time. And gently as she was ushered in, she was escorted out. There were no calls, no interruptions. Only the two of them. That long meeting was all of fifteen minutes!

She had told me this story earlier. Mindfulness, focus and deep sense of care for another stretches time. I could feel the same thing … some things are worth learning and practicing. Being in the moment. Sans mobile, sans distraction, sans disruption. I had never asked her as to how she managed to do so much in such a short time. My flight got announced, and my watch was all of 18 minutes. Seemed like an hour. I am deeply in gratitude, Indira. For in your company, time is timeless.

Slice of Life #8 — Of Delayed Flights and Choices We Make

It was one of those days, many years ago, when everything went wrong. I was to attend a meeting in one city, come back, and then leave for an overseas trip that night. The meeting went off well, and it ended on time. The flight back was at 5.30 PM. The road to the airport was devoid of traffic and things were going on plan. I reached the airport only to learn that that the flight was delayed to 7.30 PM. That would mean a touch and go for me. I decided to check if there were other flights.

There was one at 6.45 PM, by a reliable carrier that was usually on time. I had a choice of getting on to this one and cancel my original flight which would leave only by 7.30 PM. I was caught on the horns of a dilemma. Should I now change to a new carrier, or should I stick to the original? I checked with the attendant and she told me that even though the flight was delayed it would start at 7.30.

How was I to know if my delayed flight would take off even at 7.30? And there was an option to take another flight. Times like these you have to make a hard choice. I decided that I would stick to my decision. I would leave by the 7.30 flight. No change. My wife used to say that it pays to quieten down, not get distracted and focus. The flight took off on time and I made the International connection. By the way, the reliable carrier’s flight was delayed by an hour! I had learnt a lesson.

It is easy to waver in times of stress and be swayed by choices. And staying the course is a choice. Years ago, I made such a choice. It was an opportunity to move to a new function and job. I decided to stick with the same firm and the function. At that time I did not know if that was a good choice or not, and I don’t know that even today. I do know that choices will keep coming up. And each time it is another test, not of choices but of the mind and what happens thereafter.

The choices we make take us on a journey. Instead of looking at the destination and comparing it with others, enjoying the journey is a great way of putting that choice to good use. So, it is not the choice that makes the difference, it is what we do about what choices we make. We really don’t ‘arrive,’ we keep enjoying the journey, and when we do, we truly arrive!

Slice of Life #5 — Falling in Line

It was one of those crazy Monday mornings at the airport. Almost all of the city had converged to take the flight that day, or so it seemed.

These days you have to have to stand in queue with one hand carrying a tray for you to deposit the laptop, your jacket, mobile, etc., and the other is the stroller bag. And to secure one of those trays for these kinds of flight is like getting a big fat lottery. Sometimes, I think someone is going to make some great suggestion as to how we should have a seamless way to deposit our luggage for airport scrutiny.

I was in one of those long queues and I almost made it to the tray lot when a big, wide-bodied, chiseled, tall man walked in front of me and took a tray. Clearly he had jumped the queue. I was touched to the quick and of course, did not want to raise my voice and was going to make a meek sound of protest. Except, my inner voice was a lot louder and I heard myself speak in a firm and polite way: “Excuse me, gentleman. There is a queue here. Would you mind joining it please?” And looked at him and smiled. My fellow queue guys looked at me in horror. The hulk looked at me for a moment, and gave up and meekly said, “Oh, I did not know that.” A lie that I gladly glossed over, and proceeded with my deposits into the scanner. Chose not to make eye contact, I murmured a “thank you.”

Of course, then you join the queue for the physical check. And that took a while, and I reached the other side to wait for my bags to get through the scanner. And I espied the queue on the other side and saw the hulk near the trays. Just then, another gentleman sneaked in and took a tray and stood ahead of the hulk. This was interesting. The hulk politely said to him, “Excuse me sir, there is a queue here, do you mind?”

Just then the heavens smiled, as did I, for this whole business of ‘falling in line’ was falling in line! Just sometimes, you have to speak up and stand up for what you believe in, even in the face of consequences. For that is important. It is!

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 Dentist Bills and Kindness

They were driving back from the temple. An old mother and her son. She wanted a pill that would kill her toothache. He felt it best to get her a dental check-up. It was a modest clinic, something that he would hesitate to take his mother to. 

He gently held her hand and walked her in. Clean place, young dentist. A pretty looking receptionist. He carefully assisted his mother into the dentist’s chair. Took great care to translate the dentist’s instructions in English of the process, thereafter, patiently escorted her back to the car. 

It was certain that the offending tooth had to be removed. The mother nodded smilingly. The following morning the tooth was extracted. Almost routine stuff. The old lady was asked to wait at the reception thereafter.

Meanwhile, the dentist asked for the son to meet him at his office. “I could not sleep last night, and you were the reason,” he said. “The way you held your mother was not lost on me. My wife, the receptionist, noticed it as well. When I was going to retire to bed, she said – “Hey, do you treat your mother the same way? And will you treat her this way when she is old infirm?” 

“If that is not enough, my pregnant wife felt her her stomach and asked me, “Will the child in me, treat me in the same way, when I am old and hard of hearing?” I was reflecting on the care, respect and gentleness you showed to your mother, and had a restless night of guilt '. 

Care is a matter of the heart in action. Elders need care the way the infants do. The son was clearly at a loss of words. He smiled and nodded, held the dentist’s hands and said that he would be even a better son than he, and left his office.

He met the receptionist, and asked her for the bill. The radiant lady waved him off. Paid in full with a poignant lesson learnt about elder care, she added. 

Life is beautiful, cheerfully waving at the mother. Just beautiful!

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 Math Tests & Second Chances

A profound insight into building character happened early in my life during my days in college. I was then a student of Mathematics at Vivekananda College, Madras. I remember Prof. Venkat, who taught us Theory of Automotive languages – a tough subject. Prof. Venkat, who returned from the US, was a giver. He loved to teach and accepted a salary of just Re.1. He came with the clear intention of making a difference, and he was a tough guy. As a professor, Prof. Venkat was par excellence. He was also one of my early teachers of ‘Ethics in Action.’

Mid-Year exams were approaching. The theory part was a bone crusher.  Many, like me, were not confident about the exam and we were trying to see how we could sit by the side of someone who knew the answers! I had never failed in an exam and this was going to be the first, for sure. On the day of the exam, when we all filed into the class, Prof. Venkat quickly distributed the question papers and asked us to keep them face down. We were a nervous wreck. Noticing a little flicker of fear in our eyes, he asked, “How many of you are not at all ready for the exam today?” A few of us raised our hands, hesitatingly. He said “Students sitting in room, I urge you not to copy. It challenges my imagination that somebody would have to copy in Mathematics!” Hopes faded in an instant.

Prof. Venkat continued: “If some of you believe that you are not ready, I will give you another chance. I will reschedule this exam to the next Sunday and we can have the same 3-hour text. I will change the question paper but next week would be your last chance. How many of you would want to come in on Sunday for the test?” We could have hugged Prof. Venkat. Only four people took the test that day. The rest of us came in on the following Sunday.

The incident left a deep impression on me.  Prof. Venkat gave me a second chance. He taught me to be honest. The simple deed of giving and not making a big deal about it was an act of grace. I will always remember Prof. Venkat for this magnanimous act. He taught me an important principle of human endeavor – to give people a chance. 

Over the years, I realized that it is very important to give each other a second chance. We all need a second chance – both as a giver and a receiver.  In giving you receive, and in receiving you take the responsibility to pay it forward. Recently, I was cleaning my cupboard and saw my old text book, and out fell a photograph of Prof Venkat. He had taught us more than just math … and I smiled.

This was for That, and That was for This!

Very early in my career, I had a boss who was an incredibly nice man. I was working as an industrial relations officer, in a company manufacturing explosives for use in the coal mines in the heart of Bihar – and the union leaders ruled the roost. We had a new union leader who was elected called Ishwar.

On pay day, the cashier would count and hand over pay-packets to everyone in envelopes, a far cry from today's ATM cash fed machines. Pathak, the cashier who worked with the company for over 30 years, handed over a pay packet to the new union leader Ishwar. Even as he started counting the notes, he suddenly claimed that 100 rupees were missing. The average salary in those days was about Rs1300. So, 100 Rs meant a big loss for Ishwar, and he made a big hullaballoo directing profanity at Pathak and asked all employees to stop taking their salary. A big scene ensued. Pathak kept pleading that he was not at fault, as he was a very careful man. Ishwar had started well indeed.

The matter reached the ears of my general manager Om Prakash aka OP. He was a kind man. He knew Pathak to be an honest man but he wanted to defuse the situation. OP told Pathak to compensate the same amount from his account. Pathak was in tears as this had never happened in his long career and it came as a blotch on his impeccable record. Everybody forgot about the incident except Pathak. He was confident about it was the mischief of the union leader. We all knew that Pathak was right, but the damage was done.

The following month, prior to pay day, my boss OP called Pathak and spoke something to him. We all knew that OP would tell Pathak to be careful. The word was abuzz that Ishwar was coming for his pay-packet. This time again, the same 100-rupees was missing and Ishwar created an even bigger ruckus – same ritual.

OP went to the cashier’s area, looked at Ishwar and said, “Why is it only your cover has 100 rupees less, every month? This never happens to anyone else, but you? And Pathak has been here for ages! Will you doubt your fellow being wrong each time?”

OP then looked at the crowd of people and in a measured way left the place. The crowd shouted at Ishwar accusing him of being an unfit union leader who found fault with his own staff. Ishwar had no answer and went away without the 100 rupees.

That evening, I was with OP’s office when Pathak came in and fell at OP’s feet and thanked him profusely. Seeing the bewilderment on my face, OP said he trusted Pathak and knew that Ishwar was out to create trouble when the first time he claimed he got less money. This time around he deliberately instructed Pathak to put 100 rupees less in Ishwar's pay packet, and appealed to the people about his innocence. Given the reputation of the cashier, the people were sure that Pathak was innocent. And it worked … aah what drama! That day, Pathak went home walking tall, his reputation preserved.

Sometimes it pays to pay back in one's own coin. After all ... "This was for that and that was for this!"

Of Flipping Coins and Decision Making

I had an uncle called Krishnamurthy.  We used to call him Kittu Mama – a very quiet and thoughtful man. He was very popular with all the children at home. He was non-judgmental and always supported us in any way he could.

My earliest memory of him was his taking me to a shop in Madras to buy me a candy called 'kamarakattu', a specialty in those days. I don’t see them in the malls any more. What an expectation! Like many of the things of my younger days, it has not passed the Darwinian test – survival of the tastiest!

During the summer holidays, he indulged all of us by teaching to make a special candy made of tamarind, sugar, salt mixture, stuck to a small toothpick-like stick. We used to walk around the house feeling like Edison having invented something new. Such was the power of his persona. Nowadays, we need more of such Kittu uncles.

One day, I was caught up with myself in some decision-making bind – Do I? Do I not? It was all too confusing and I resorted to the usual – flip a coin, make a wish, and see what the coin lands up with. Seemed easy! I tossed the coin and 'asked' for heads. When it landed on my palm, it was 'tails'. Hmm ... best of 3s, I told myself. Rats ... again, tails. Hmm ... best of 5s, I said to myself.

And as I flipped the coin, Kittu Mama appeared from nowhere and caught the coin mid-air. He looked at me and asked me what I was doing. I told him that I was making a decision, and of course, that I was betting on best of 5 flips of the coin and if I called correctly, it would lead me one way...

Kittu Mama looked at me in a good-natured way and said that flipping coins was a great way to make a decision, and said that we need not flip it more than once. The coin would never lie, he added. He asked me to flip for the last time, and asked me to call out if this were 'heads or tails'.

I called heads, and even as the coin went flipping, he caught it as it came down, covered the coin in his palm, and said, “What did you wish for when the coin came falling down – a deep desire?”

I said, “I wanted heads, and badly so.”

He said, “Then don’t look at the coin. It does not matter if this were heads or tails.”

The decision making was complete, even as the coin was in the air. “The outcome of the coin in his palm was inconsequential,” he added.  He said, “No more 'best of 3s' etc.”

Suddenly it all fell in place. I wanted a desired outcome, and could not decide and flipped a coin. Even as the coin was in the air, the heart knew what it wanted. That was the right answer! This was magic – what a great and simple philosophy!

Recently, I flipped a coin and even as the coin flashed in the air, I knew what I wanted … and I remembered my late Kittu Mama.

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 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.