Of Satellite Launches and Commitment

A recent incident within the family got me thinking about the whole nature of commitment at work. My wife and I went to Mumbai as one of the elders in the family had passed away. That day was a red-letter day in Indian Space Research Organization (ISRO)’s history: They were scheduled to launch their 100th satellite.

The younger son of the deceased – let me call him Ravi, is a test engineer at ISRO. He was to be at the launch site, and instead came to Mumbai for the funeral – shattered and scattered. After he performed the last rites of his mother, the first thing he asked when he came home was to turn on the television. He then sat in front of the TV and followed the launch of the satellite.

There, as I saw him fully hooked to the TV, I noticed a certain ambivalence in him. On one hand, there was pain of losing his dear mother and on the other, a deep sense of concern for the outcome of the launch. When the launch was declared a success, he heaved a sigh of relief. And why not! He was part of the team that had tested each and every aspect of the rocket that went into space.

Like Ravi, people in the government are not really paid big salaries. They have modest means of earning and living – very different from the private sector. The sense of commitment was outstanding! As I thought about this incident, it helped providing answers pertaining to purpose and commitment.

What really motivates people is a sense of purpose. What really drives commitment is a clearly stated goal, and a will to succeed. Commitment really comes from within. It depends largely on how you have been wired, how you have been shaped by the environment, how you have risen to the high demands placed on you.

I was absolutely in awe of all the people at ISRO and their leadership team, including former Director, Dr. APJ Abdul Kalam for instilling a culture of commitment, excellence and pride in what they do for this country. They have managed to instill a deep sense of purpose and patriotism.

Coming to think of it, the light bulbs flashed – commitment is no rocket science!

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 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 Androcles and What Goes Around Comes Around

My grandmother taught me to read and instilled in me values, as all grandmas do. I remember her telling me the story of Androcles where this young man was in a cave and he saw a lion in a cave, roaring in pain and recognized it needed help and removed a thorn from its paw. Later, the same lion saved him when he was being thrown to the lions in the arena, as throwing people to the lions was a popular sport then. This story stayed with me for a long time.

Fast forward in time, about 1997, I was recruiting at a campus in Calcutta and made job offers to a few students. About two months later, one of the candidates – and I will call him Sai, an outstanding guy – called me to say that he had failed a paper and so, he would not be getting his ‘Degree.’ His widowed mother made entreaties and asked me to extend the validity of his appointment letter by six months that would allow for him to clear his exams.

Although this was against policy, I took a view that we would allow for an extension that could have Sai join us. His mother was happy, Sai was happy. One day, Sai wrote to us to say that he had found a job closer home and was very thankful that we kept his offer valid as this gave him a big leg up to his sagging confidence. We were sorry that he could not join. All was forgiven and forgotten.

Fast forward to 2011. About four months ago, a colleague of mine called on me with a request to help him find a job for his wife, Sudha, a qualified sales person. I wrote to a good friend – let me call him Ram – a HR head of one of the largest Indian banking institutions in the country and asked that he consider her candidature on merits. Ram responded to me to say he would try and forwarded my mail to some colleague of his.

A couple of months later, Sudha called me to say that she had ‘got the job’ and was most thankful to me. The excitement and gratitude got jumbled in the words that gushed and I was as thrilled she got the job. That is all that mattered. I was very impressed that her resumé got the right attention at the right level and the speed at which it was evaluated and an appointment letter issued, in one of the largest banks!

I was in wonderment of it all, when I got a call at my desk. It was from the Bank, and the head of HR wanted to speak to me. He mentioned that the mail came over to him, had noted where the mail emanated and had gone the extra mile to ensure that the CV got the right attention, etc. I thanked him profusely. He asked me if I remembered giving a helping hand to a candidate who had failed his exams many years ago. It was Sai. I could not believe it. Virtual hugs followed.

Today, Sudha called me and told me that she was awarded the highest order of merit by the bank for her performance and I congratulated her. I started humming Justin Timberlake’s song, “What goes around comes around.” And I remembered my grandmother...