Gita for Managers II – Acceptance of Death, Risk-taking, and Impact of Failure

 

Three months ago a relative lost her mother. It was a double blow—hardly three years ago she had bid the final adieu to her father. A loving and caring child, she had been interacting with the parents everyday till they passed away one after the other. Their departure has left a big void in her life. She continues to breakdown at the very mention of their names and dutifully posts their pictures on her social media accounts every other day. It matters little that both her parents were above eighty years in age, or that she has a bustling family of about thirty people, right from an eighty-plus mother-in-law to some five-year-old grand children.

Some of us are alarmed at this extended mourning. Grieving at the loss of a life is natural; allowing the sadness to overpower us is not. Corona has exposed us to an unpleasant fact—we all must face the reality of death. Most of us have already lost a dear friend, relative, or acquaintance to the epidemic. We don't know, who is the next in line.

If death means the end, don't we deal with it in a healthy manner throughout our professional lives? For example, don't we try and stick to all accepted deadlines? Whether it was the release of the next edition of the quarterly corporate magazine, broadcast of the national news bulletin, settlement of customer complaints, execution of orders, or the completion of projects—I was particular about always adhering to the deadlines. The same must be true with you. We all have little time to gloat over the success of the just completed task, and get absorbed in the next activity almost immediately. Should we not handle death also in a similar manner?

As mentioned in a previous article, I am neither a preacher nor wish to influence your religious views. However, it would be pertinent to quote Lord Krishna here (Gita Shloka 2.13):

देहिनोsस्मिन् यथा देहे कौमारं यौवनं जरा। तथा देहान्तरप्राप्तिर्धीरस्तत्र न मुह्यति।।      

(As the soul attains childhood, youth, and old age in a particular body, it also acquires different bodies. Wise people don't get deluded by the journey of the soul from one body to another.)

The philosophy is also reflected in the epitaph of Acharya Rajneesh, which reads: "Never Born, Never Died. Only Visited this Planet Earth between Dec 11 1931 – Jan 19 1990."    

The best way to remember the departed was demonstrated by Shah Jahan, who built the Taj Mahal in the memory of his wife; by Dashrath Manjhi, who carved a path in a hill and shortened the travelling distance from 55 km to 15 km after his wife died due to a fall in the mountain; or by the cricketer Imran Khan who founded the charitable Shaukat Khanum Memorial Cancer Hospital and Research Centre when his mother succumbed to the disease. The examples can be numerous, I have mentioned just the ones with which most of us are familiar. Passive mourning can continue endlessly, but what can be a better tribute than doing something useful for the society?

Passivity is a double-edged sword. It is a favourite weapon of those averse to taking risks. A very learned and shrewd prime minister of India used to remain silent at controversial junctures. This tactic became famous and popularised the phrase, "when in doubt, pout!" Another prime minister, the most educated India has had thus far, adopted passiveness to such a high degree in the latter half of his term that 'policy paralysis' became the catchphrase description for his style of governance. No wonder, his party was unceremoniously ousted in the next general elections. Once treated with great respect the world over, the leader stands nowhere near the position that he deserved once upon a time.

Inaction and silence can result in heavy loss of reputation and position—whether in politics, business, or in personal life. Concerned about the fear of Arjuna in taking up arms, Krishna said (Gita, Shloka 2.34):           

अकीर्तिं चापि भूतानि कथयिष्यन्ति तेsव्ययाम्। संभावितस्य चाकीर्तिर्मरणादतिरिच्यते।।

(If you shirk responsibility, everybody will talk bad about you, and your name will get blemished for ever. Dishonour is worse than death for the noble.)

But the point is, many a times the fear of failure is so real, the risks are so great, and defeat is so certain that remaining passive appears to be the only option. But, is it really so? Krishna provides guidance in the matter (Gita Shloka 2.37):  

हतो वा प्राप्स्यसि सवर्गं जित्वा वा भोक्ष्यसे महीम्। तस्मादुत्तिष्ठ कौन्तेय युद्धाय कृतनिश्चयः।।

(Arise, the son of Kunti! If you die, you will have heavenly comforts. If you win, you will enjoy everything the earth has to offer.)

Big words? No! Look at the defeat of the Indian women's hockey team at the Tokyo Olympics, 2020. The team failed to win any medal at the event, but its players were described as 'bravehearts,' 'courageous,' 'spirited,' etc., by the media. Why? Because they played valiantly and almost snatched the bronze medal, undeterred by the fact that the previous best performance of the team was 41 years ago in the 1980 Moscow Games, where they finished fourth among six teams.

The public is clear, our girls have tried. The same public, which doesn't mind dumping even the greatest heroes when they fail to act! Whether it is the public, the share holders, the boss, or even your own child, there is only one sure way of earning their respect—doing something positive regardless of the situation.    

The Helpful Neighbours

 

"Our latest power bill is for twenty-two thousand rupees!" I cried in shock. The bill showed a power consumption of 3,000 kWH. I was asked to pay within seven days to avoid disconnection.

"TWENTTY TTWO THHOUSANDD?" My wife repeated, putting emphasis on every syllable.

"Yes!" I responded weakly.

"But how can they raise the bill for such a huge amount? Isn't our flat locked?" She exclaimed in disbelief. "Or, is someone illegally tapping power from our line?" The salvos were rapidly fired at me. 

Yes, I had switched off the mains and locked our flat before starting in November last year, but simply had no genie at my command to provide quick answers regarding the latest status there. Not only was I 2,200 kilometres away from home, travel restrictions due to Covid had forced us to extend our three-month trip to seven months with little hope for the resumption of flights in the next month. When a lot can happen over coffee, undoubtedly a lot more can happen in seven months—I thought.

I checked the April bill. And after that, the bills of March, February, and January. All had the same figure, 22079, against previous and current readings. But, the bill of May was different. It showed these readings as 22079 and 25079.

Illegal power tapping is neither uncommon nor impossible. It has been happening since time immemorial. Tapping of corporate power by the managing director's son, political power by the minister's wife, marketing vice president's power by the chief accountant, prime minister's power by the army chief ... the list is endless. Theft of electrical power is nothing in comparison.

The 'nothing' puzzled me. The probability of stealing exactly 3,000 units was as bleak as that of a monkey saying sorry to a boy after snatching a banana from him.

"Perhaps it is a case of incorrect meter reading," I mumbled.

"How can the meter be 'read' incorrectly? I mean, aren't they all electronically connected with little need for human intervention?" By then my son had joined the discussion.

"No, a man comes and notes down the readings every month," I explained.

"That is strange!"  

I can't really blame him. He has lived in Dubai far too long to remember how things run back home in India. And they run reasonably well till someone goofs up somewhere, as perhaps had happened in this case.

"Let me check with the other residents," I said. Yes, that was it! I must pass on this information to them. Perhaps everyone might have received inflated bills.

My immediate neighbour, Devi Prasad Nayak, responded almost instantly. No, he didn't provide a clue about the consumption of 3,000 units. Being a methodical insurance agent, he, instead, asked for a copy of the bill. Of course, how could any responsible person comment on the situation without ascertaining the facts?

I uploaded a copy of the bill in our common WhatsApp forum, and gave the good news to my wife that our immediate neighbour had decided to come to our rescue.

"See, he is a good man, after all! He had requested us to sit in his house when our door lock malfunctioned in 2017." She beamed.

"But you went to another neighbour while I went to fetch the locksmith," I refreshed her memory.

"He offered to buy milk for us at the beginning of the lockdown last year," she retorted. 

"But he never bought even a drop of it!" I added.

"Hmm, but has anyone else responded in the forum?" She asked.

"No, Nayak is the only one so far," I admitted.

Meanwhile, Nayak's inquisitiveness had risen further, "What was your previous bill amount? When did you pay it?"

There was no reason for me to feel offended. After all, he was trying to help me. So what if the consumption of 3,000 units in a month had nothing to do with the previous bills and payments!

I gave him the details.

"You will have to get the reading rechecked by the power corporation," he declared after a while.

"The corporation corrected the bill in a similar case when I showed a video clip of the meter in the past," I argued.

"Then approach the corporation on your return. Bribe some guy, and your work will be done!" Nayak provided the solution.

"But no passenger flights are operating between the two countries, and I don't know when I'll be able to return," I pleaded.

Losing interest in the conversation, Nayak had perhaps by then focused his energy on selling some insurance policy.

"What did Nayak say?" My wife asked.

"Nothing! He has gone silent. Exactly the way when we asked him to return the Rs.5,000 loaned to him seven years ago." I spoke with distaste.

"He used to climb into our balcony and steal the newspapers in our absence," she recalled.

"Though we have covered it with an iron grill and curtains now, I still sometimes notice him peeping into our balcony," I added.

Meanwhile, another neighbour, Jitendra Kochhar, jumped in the fray with a suggestion, "You can lodge a complaint on the power corporation website."

"Yes, but they would insist upon paying the bill by the due date. The inflated bill can be corrected only if a video clip of the meter is verified by the relevant official." I retorted.

The exchange with Kochhar continued for some time, first focusing on where I had gone, and then gradually shifting to the when's and the why's of it. Inflated billing took a backseat. Kochhar is in the business of education, and, I am sure, believes that strong fundamentals are necessary for progress in life with or without inflated bills. 

A day had passed without any progress.

"Madam, can you please check and confirm the meter reading?" Hesitatingly, I sent a direct  message to Mrs Braganza. Hesitatingly, because this 70 year old cancer survivor falls in the high risk group for Covid infection.

Hardly fifteen minutes would have passed when her reply came with a photograph of the meter. My suspicion was right! The meter displayed 22079. It was a simple case of incorrect noting of the second '2' as '5'. The bill could be corrected by showing a video clip of the meter to the power officials.

"Let me request the Kesaris. You taught their daughters free for several months. We took care of their fish on the two occasions they went to their ancestral home. We sometimes shared food." My wife was excited.

"I taught only the elder one. You taught the younger one, who never flushed the toilet after use and once peed on our sofa," I refreshed her memory.

"What else do you expect from a five year old?" She defended the girl.

"But Kesari has not responded to the communication so far." I interjected.

"Perhaps he is not comfortable writing on WhatsApp," now she was defending the girl's father.

"Okay!" I let her have her way. She recorded a message and sent it to Kesari.

Another day passed.

My wife kept checking her and my phones, but Kesari remained silent like a car with a stolen battery.              

"When you are serious, everything looks so tense!" My daughter-in-law observed during lunch.

"I am worried that if the power corporation is not able to depute a person to read the meter in the coming months, it may ask me to pay as per the current bill in future as well. That would force me to shell out Rs.22,000 every month without consuming a single unit of power," I croaked.

"Why don't you ask a neighbour to take a video and attach it to your complaint on the corporation's website?" She asked.

"I lodged the complaint yesterday, but the website has no provision for uploading a video file. Plus, I am yet to find a person willing to take a video clip of the meter," I was lost in thoughts.

"What about our front door neighbours, the Tandons?" She had enjoyed a good relationship with them seven years ago.

"I don't know them so well. And, though we share Diwali and Holi sweets every year, I ignored his demand for sharing our Wi-Fi password with them last year," I admitted with guilt.

"Hmm! What about 'Khad-Khad Bhaiya'?" She asked about a particular neighbour who is abnormally tall with an abnormally unpleasant voice. 

I suspected that she might have been pally with that neighbour's wife also seven years ago, but we fall in his mother's category who has not displayed any inclination to return our visits or appreciate our little gifts.

"He has not commented at all on the issue," I closed the topic.

"I will try and find a way out," she said.

I nodded, and started chewing my food.

"I will request Kesari again," my wife said.

She confided at night, "Mrs Kesari has said that they are not getting out of the house due to Covid. We appear to be up against a wall!"

"You know, Manav Pandey wrote yesterday that he would try to help, but he, too, didn't communicate today," I murmured.

I visited the power corporation site the next morning. Unbelievably, the bill had been revised to Rs.686, and the payment date had been extended by ten days. Not taking a chance, I paid the bill immediately.

My phone had a message from Manav Pandey, expressing regret for not being able to communicate the previous day and informing that he had got the bill revised after showing the video.

Who says helpful neighbours don't exist anymore? They do. They just don't brag about it.       

Gita for Managers – Confusion Before the Big Action

 

I am not a preacher, and have no desire to influence your religious views. I am not a religious person, either. Right from childhood, I have associated gods with festivals and holidays. Janmashtami reminds me of Radha-Krishna, Christmas of Jesus Christ, Eid of Mohammed, and so on.

Earlier, the names of most prominent Hindu gods were taken along with that of a goddess. It instilled calmness. Chants of Shiva-Parvati, Lakshmi-Ganesh, Sita-Ram, etc., were common in Hindu households. The goddess of learning Saraswati, the demon slayer Durga, and the dutiful Hanuman were the only notable exceptions to this practice, but they didn't terrorise common folks of any faith. I grew up without being afraid of any god or religion, though when the time comes, the god of death, Yamaraj, may take me away. 

I am writing this just to express my interpretation of Gita as a guide for professional managers, and will be happy to have your views. Who knows, I may be going totally off the track, deserving an immediate course correction!

As I read the Gita again, I was impressed by Arjuna's desire to inspect the battlefield before the war to identify the warriors against whom he was supposed to fight (Shlokas1.21-1.22).

सेनयोरुभयोर्मध्ये रथं स्थापय मेSच्युत।।

यावदेतान्निरीक्षेSहं योद्धुकामानवस्थितान्। कैर्मया सह योद्धव्यमस्मिन् रणसमुद्यमे।।

What was the need for the action? Being a key Pandava figure, Arjuna was aware of the entire turn of events and knew his friends and foes very well. Yet, he didn't leave the matter to imagination. His initiative was akin to prospecting by sales personnel, market survey by product launchers, rehearsal by artistes, and recce by certain agencies. Many sales efforts collapse due to inadequate information about customer and competitors.    

Krishna, serving as Arjuna's charioteer, brought him to a spot from where leading fighters of both armies could be seen. Krishna's action reminds me of a remarkable observation of Field Marshall Sam Manekshaw, who considered absolute honesty, fairness and justice as some of the necessary attributes of leadership. Krishna, much superior to Arjuna in stature, demonstrated leadership by being fair and making no attempt to hide the reality of the situation. A good consultant, mentor, or business leader does not misguide the stakeholders by making false claims. Unfortunately, the tendency to shoot the messenger bringing bad news continues in spite of the closure of many large business houses due to the weakness.

Arjuna's reaction was very interesting (Shlokas1.31):

निमित्तानि च पश्यामि विपरीतानि केशव। न च श्रेयोSनुपश्यामि हत्वा स्वजनमाहवे।।

(I see unfavourable signs. How can I attain success by hurting my own people?) 

I have seen many projects falling victim to narrow mindsets. For several years I blindly followed Phil Crosby's philosophy of quality being conformance to requirements—nothing less, nothing more. My views got a new perspective when a newly appointed CEO opined that if customer expects 'one', the supplier must provide 'one plus'. It does not hurt the supplier's interest, but rather consolidates it. That explains cellular phones ousting traditional cameras from the market, Amazon causing the shutdown of not only bookshops but other stores as well, and Elon Musk breaking the barriers in transportation.

The concept of out of box thinking and looking beyond one's selfish interests is not new. Swami Vivekananda, while establishing the Ramakrishna Mission in 1897, had described that the missionaries would work for own salvation and everyone's welfare.

आत्मनो मोक्षार्थ जगद्धिताय च

Likewise, the All India Radio follows the motto of बहुजन हिताय बहुजन सुखाय (for the benefit and happiness of many).

Managers who only think short term and remain concerned about themselves, may not achieve anything remarkable at the end.

Krishna's response appears later in Gita. Perhaps we will take that up some other day! 

Pandemic and Employment Stability

 

"In a hierarchy, every employee tends to rise to his own level of incompetence," discovered Dr Laurence J Peter. Clear evidences of the Peter Principle can be found internationally in all spheres of life, be it a business, an industry, a trade union, politics, a government, the armed forces, a religion, education, or some other hierarchy. Dr Peter noticed that not only competent people but even incompetent and moderately competent individuals constantly move up in hierarchies on the strength of their performance, relations with a superior authority, nuisance value, image, etc. As per the principle, only the super incompetent and the super competent—because they challenge or threaten the well-being of the organisation or their superior—ever get kicked out. The elevations stop only when the incumbents finally reach a position they are incompetent to handle.

True, someone somewhere was incompetent in the abortive search for the weapons of mass destruction that killed over a million Iraqis and wasted more than a trillion dollars. Someone somewhere is always incompetent when patients die and doctors get beaten up, but hospitals, pharmaceutical companies, and insurance providers laugh all the way to the bank.

On the national level, someone somewhere was incompetent when lander Vikram diverted from the trajectory and fell over the moon in the much touted Rs.9.7 billion Chandrayaan-2 mission. Or, when it was assumed that introduction of new Rs.500 and Rs.2,000 notes and withdrawal of Rs.1,000 and prevalent Rs.500 notes would end terrorism, unearth black money, and stop the publication of counterfeit currency.

Some incompetence must have prompted the declaration that while the Mahabharata war was decided in 18 days, India's battle against the Corona virus would be won in 21 days, counting from March 25, 2020. The declaration of a Tika Utsav on April 11-14, 2021 to expose vaccine shortage can be another example of incompetence.

The incompetence of a key person forced the police to ignore common citizens and instead focus attention on finding the seven lost buffalos of the Uttar Pradesh minister Azam Khan in 2014. Undue delay in the settlement of legal cases; mistakes in Aadhaar cards, voter cards and vaccination certificates; poor teaching and moral standards at schools—all point towards incompetence at some level.

Personally, I have had a bitter taste of incompetence when a bank did not rectify an error in the user name and forces me to use an entirely different surname to access my account even after fifteen years; or, when right from the manager to the prime minister's office did not detect the criminal who tried to break into my bank account and closed the case with a remark that "the account has sufficient balance"; or, when  a credit card was despatched to a defunct address in spite of multiple warnings issued in advance; or, when my employee provident fund file was not  transferred to the preferred office.

We have become so used to incompetence that incidents of first-time-right generate surprise. "Oh, the mechanic reported in time!" "Great, no one honked on the road!" "Super, the sweets were not weighed with the box!" "Wonderful, there was no fake news spread today!"

While the Peter Principle might have been true in 1960's and 70's, do the competent really move up now? Do they even get employed? Aren't people being removed from jobs at a very high rate during the pandemic? Aren't most employees being forced to accept low remuneration for their services?

Once, on hearing the praise of a superstar, Hindi filmmaker Mahesh Bhatt had remarked, "Remember, there are much more talented people than him who roam on the streets and die in gutters without ever getting noticed."

There is definitely something that matters higher than competence in career advancement. That is called destiny.