Business Sutra: A Very Indian Approach to Management (43 page)

Duryodhan's father is denied the throne because he is born blind. Duryodhan's mother Gandhari blindfolds herself, as she wants to share her husband's suffering. She refuses to remove the blindfold even to look at her son because she refuses to break the vow taken during marriage. Thus, Duryodhan ends up with one parent who cannot see him and the other parent who will not see him. Unseen, Duryodhan feels uncared for. He has to fend for himself, as an animal fends for itself in the forest. Naturally, he displays animal traits: aggression, territoriality and domination. He sees the Pandavs as predators.

Krishna, on the other hand, has a childhood full of love and affection. When he broke pots, stole butter and played pranks, his mother, Yashoda, punished him but simultaneously she wept, indicating how much it pained her to punish him. In punishment, she never let him lose sight of her affection for him. That she was disciplining him did not mean he was wrong; it simply meant he had not expanded his mind to accommodate others' point of view. A child is allowed to not consider the feelings of others but an adult does not have that luxury. Krishna never felt isolated and alone. He did not see the world of humans as being full of predators and prey, as Duryodhan did.

Tariq heard a great motivational speech at the annual sales conference. Charged, he spent the year going beyond the call of duty, developing clients who he knew would give the company business a few years down the line. When the time for the appraisal and bonus came, these efforts were not even considered. The software that was developed to capture the work done in the previous year had no columns for 'going beyond the call of duty'. It only measured results against organizational expectations and plans. Then the bell curve of organizational performance, achieved through a series of complex algorithms, graded Tariq far below his expectations, even below his manager's rating of him. Tariq's manager protested but to no avail. The technology for determining compensation was world-class, recommended by the best consultants in the world and implemented by the best software company in India. Its results could not be challenged. Tariq felt like a fool. Worse, he felt invisible. He realized that the shareholders of his company valued the technology more than his manager or even his manager's manager. The organization was his Gandhari who saw only his measurable deeds not his disappointment.

Everyone seeks a caring gaze

For humans, the forest is a place of fear as is the time of night. Yet, according to the Bhagavat Puran, the rasa-lila always takes place outside the village in the forest at night. Krishna plays the flute and the women leave the security of their homes to secretly be with him, dancing around him in a perfect circle. He is no brother, father, son or lover, bound by neither law nor custom and yet the women seek his company. Krishna multiplies himself for each of them, giving each one his complete and exclusive attention.

Later, Krishna moves to Dwarka, and ends up having 16,108 wives. When Narad visits the city, he finds Krishna in each of these houses, giving his full attention to all his wives and their children. He has multiplied himself once again.

The market is a frightening place. We are afraid of being cheated and exploited. We want someone to make us feel secure and wanted. Someone to validate us instead of judging us. We want to be indulged. The employee seeks individual attention from the employer; the buyer seeks individual attention from the seller. We seek Krishna in the forest, who does not use the collective as an excuse to forget the individual.

Everyone in Sanjog's team hates him. In brainstorming meetings only Sanjog speaks, not letting anyone get a word in. If the meeting lasts for an hour, he speaks for 55 minutes. When someone interrupts, they are promptly silenced. If someone disagrees, they are told they do not have the experience to understand. Sanjog is blind to his team. He is blind to himself. He does not realize that he is drawing power from his team, making them powerless. He is no Krishna. The team is far from experiencing rasa-lila.

We want to be seen as we imagine ourselves

Both the Ramayan and the Bhagavat Puran refer to a hunchbacked woman or Kubija. In the Ramayan, she is Manthara—the old nursemaid who poisons Kaikeyi's mind against Ram and goads her to demand Dashrath to send Ram into exile and make Bharat king instead. In the Bhagavat Puran, she is Trivakra—a young sandal paste seller who greets Krishna when he first enters Mathura. When Krishna sees her, he embraces her tightly with love and affection. So powerful is the hug that Trivakra's body is straightened out. She is no longer deformed. Trivakra of the Bhagavat Puran is often taken to be Manthara reborn, making the episode of Krishna straightening her back an act of forgiveness.

These stories can be seen literally as miracles, or metaphorically, as events that reveal our true nature. Kaikeyi is unable to see Kubija and only hears Manthara's words. On the other hand, Krishna is able to see Trivakra's mind: who she is, where she's coming from and why she did what she did. Krishna looks beyond her sthula-sharira, which is deformed. He sees her as she imagines herself; he sees her suksma-sharira. He finds her as beautiful and innocent as she thinks she is. So he hugs her, expresses his affection for her, provides her the security she so desperately needs. She may not be like others but that does not mean she needs any less validation. Having got it from Krishna, she no longer feels like an outsider or an ugly person who can only get the master's attention and affection through manipulation.

The workplace is full of Kubijas. In a world where only performance seems to matter, they are mediocre, at the wrong end of the bell-curve, people who can be justifiably kicked out. And this makes them insecure. The only way then to secure their job is to have a relationship with people in power, display loyalty by poisoning their ears against others, making the yajaman feel there is someone looking out for them.

Every year, the Clark Travel Company selects two management trainees. This year they have selected Meghna and Rose. Meghna comes from an affluent family and this job is a way for her to pass her time before she gets married. She, therefore, resents it when her manager piles work on her and makes her stay late on weekends. Rose comes from a very poor family and has been able to go to college thanks to the kindness of relatives. She is deeply in debt. She is very grateful for the job, anxious about losing it and eager to please. Her boss keeps finding fault with her work and that frightens her further. Both Meghna and Rose feel unloved like Kubija and yearn for a Krishna who will see them for who they truly are.

A cruel gaze focuses on our compliance rather than our capability

Hanuman plays a crucial role in the Ramayan. He is asked to discover Sita's whereabouts, build a bridge across the sea with the aid of the monkeys, fetch the lifesaving herbs that save Lakshman's life—all of which he accomplishes. Throughout the epic, he proves his capability time and again. He is strong enough to carry mountains and smart enough to trick sea-monsters like Surasa and Simhika.

Yet in the epic, he does not hold any great position. He is just one of the many monkeys Ram encounters in the forest. He is not Sugriva, leader of the monkey troop. He is not Angad, son of Vali, who is told to lead the band of monkeys searching for Sita. He is not Jambavan, the bear, or Nila, the monkey, who are given the responsibility of building the bridge. At no point does Hanuman make any attempt to steal anyone's glory; while in his own temple he stands powerful with a mountain in his hand and his feet on a demon, in Ram's temple he is most content sitting at the feet of his master, hands in supplication.

Who would not want a Hanuman on his team? The perfect karyakarta, one who is very good at his work, one who will do whatever he is told without ever seeking either reward or recognition; one who finds validation in obeying his master.

Years after the events in the Ramayan took place, Hanuman narrates the entire tale to his mother, Anjani. After hearing everything that's transpired, she wonders aloud, "Why did they go through the trouble of raising an army and building a bridge to defeat Ravan? Why did you not simply flick your tail and sweep the rakshasa-king and his army away?"

Hanuman replies, "Because no one asked me to."

And suddenly we wonder if this was a lost opportunity. Everyone saw Hanuman's obedience, but no one saw his true potential. Everyone saw Hanuman on their terms, not on his terms. In a world that celebrates alignment and compliance to the vision, systems and processes of an organization, is the individual increasingly getting invisible?

Unless the yajaman pays attention to the potential of the devata, the yagna achieves only a portion of what it could potentially achieve. The tathastu stays limited by the yajaman's gaze.

At Raju's auto-repair shop, all the work is done by his Hanuman: Amol, a young boy, who has been working with Raju for three years. Amol is a natural, able to fix the most complex of problems. Raju knows he can totally rely on Amol. No job is too big or too small for Amol. He is as happy changing a tyre as he is fixing the brakes. He does not boss over the juniors and does not feel slighted if the seniors ask him to fetch tea. If there is a problem that eludes a standard solution, everyone knows to leave it to Amol. He will, like Hanuman crossing the sea, find a way. Yes, Raju loves Amol's work. Yes, Raju admires Amol's work. But is Raju harnessing Amol's full potential?