Business Sutra: A Very Indian Approach to Management (31 page)

Is it ourselves we see, or what we imagine of ourselves? This imagination of ourselves is our mental image of ourselves. The strong can imagine themselves as weak, the beautiful can imagine themselves as strong, a villain can imagine himself as a hero. No one stops a Brahma from imagining himself in any way.

Nature does not care for this mental image. In the Ramayan, when Hanuman is flying over the sea on his mission to find Sita, the monster Surasa blocks his path, intent on eating him. Hanuman says, "I am on a mission for Ram. Let me complete it and then I promise I will return so you can eat me." Surasa retorts, "I do not understand the meaning of mission or Ram or promise. All I know is that I am hungry and you are potential food."

Nature only recognizes predators and prey, alpha on top of the pecking order and omega at the bottom. These are functional roles that facilitate survival; they are not permanent roles. They cannot be inherited.

Human structures make no sense to animals or plants. That is why all animals and plants treat all humans equally. Water will quench the thirst of both saint and sinner; the tree will give shade to the rich as well as the poor; the dog will adore its master, even if the world considers the master to be a criminal.

As the eldest son in his family, Virendra has always been the recipient of much love and respect. His siblings and cousins look up to him. He manages family funds and is sought when major decisions need to be taken. However, when Virendra goes to office, he feels miserable. For everything he does, he has to ask permission: fill forms, get approvals, and seek clearances. He does not feel he is trusted or respected. The workplace does not endorse the mental image of him that his family has helped create.

Only another human being can endorse the mental image

Two men approach each other on a bridge. Each expects the other to make way for him, but neither does. One identifies himself as a learned sage. The other identifies himself as a powerful king. The sage proves his learnedness by spewing chants and hymns. The king proves his power by flexing his muscles, but still neither of them yields to the other. The learned sage thinks learning is superior to power. The powerful king thinks power is superior to learning. Finally, the angry sage puts a curse on the king and turns him into a demon. The first act of this newly transformed demon is to eat the sage in front of him. Two lives are thus ruined by mutual stubbornness.

Every human being wants to be identified by those around them. With identification comes evaluation. The sage is not happy simply being identified as a sage; he wants to be valued for it and this value is demonstrated by receiving the right to first passage. Likewise, the king seeks right of first passage as a sign that he, too, has been identified and valued.

When we are recognized we feel powerful. When we are not recognized we feel powerless. When we are valued we receive Durga. When we are not valued we do not receive Durga. We want to feel significant. We want to be located in a social hierarchy. In other words, we seek aukaat, which means status and prestige. The purpose of social structures is to grant us a social position and power, which makes us feel powerful and secure. We seek izzat or respect, and acknowledgment of what we believe is our aukaat.

Only humans can endorse the mental image of other humans. This is why we feel nervous around strangers. We feel insecure until the other is able to identify us. So we exchange visiting cards and introduce ourselves. But identification alone is not enough, we want to feel seen and valued. And so following introductions we speak of our achievements and refer to mutual friends and contacts, especially those who are socially significant, so as to feel increasingly powerful when others are able to recognize us and locate us in a cultural hierarchy.

When Siddhu saw Abhays's visiting card, he was startled to find it detailing the latter's degrees, affiliations, titles, numerous charitable activities and business roles. Siddhu realized that Abhay wanted to be recognized for all his achievements. He wanted to feel he mattered for all that he had done. Abhay's promotion of his social roles through his visiting card drew attention to his mental image, his yearning for validation. When people looked at the card and showed amazement and admiration, Abhay got his Durga.

We defend our mental image at any cost

Kahoda suddenly hears a voice correcting him. It is his unborn child, speaking from within his wife's womb! "Perhaps," the child says, "the same hymn can be interpreted another way, father."

Rather than appreciate his son, Kahoda is annoyed. "May this over-smart child of mine be born deformed with eight twists in his body," he snarls. That is how the child gets his name—Ashtavakra, he who is bent in eight places.

While Ashtavakra is still an infant, his father goes to the court of King Janak to participate in a public debate. The condition of the debate is that the loser has to become the slave of the winner. Kahoda, who thinks highly of his wisdom, participates, but loses the debate to a sage called Bandi. He is stripped of his freedom, not allowed to go home and forced to serve his new master.

When Ashtavakra grows up and learns about the fate of his father, he decides to participate in the same public debate in Janak's court. Though barely eight years old, he manages to defeat Bandi. By the rules of the competition, Bandi now has to serve as Ashtavakra's slave. "Free my father instead," says the young genius.

When Kahoda enters Janaka's court he recognizes his saviour as his son by his deformity and breaks down. Ashtavakra's deformity springs from Kahoda's own insecurity.

Kahoda's aukaat is threatened by Ashtavakra's brilliance, which is why Kahoda curses his own son, behaving like a cornered beast. Later, his social body takes a beating anyway at the hand of Bandi who reduces him to a slave. Had Kahoda allowed his son's brilliance to nourish his mental body, enhance his Shakti, this would have perhaps not happened. In insecurity, we often keep away things that can benefit us in the long run, contribute to our sustainability. We choose comforting Durga over discomforting Shakti. We banish Ashtavakras from our own life and makes ourselves vulnerable to Bandis.

As soon as it was announced that the new CEO wanted a matrix organization, Vandana smiled. This was the CEO's way of ensuring no one threatened his position. There would be business unit verticals and functional horizontals. For every job, each team member would have to report to two bosses. The official reason for this was to create push and pull—tension to maximum output. The underlying motive, however, was to ensure there was tension between business heads and functional heads. They would be too busy fighting each other to threaten the new CEO. Moreover, by getting a management firm to propose the matrix structure, the CEO had ensured that the board of directors did not suspect he was playing politics to ensure the survival of his social image.

We are terrified of how strangers will evaluate us

We imagine those around us to be predators and ourselves as the prey. We fear we will be reduced to an omega in a group when we would rather be alpha, the centre of attention. Every devata has the desire to, at the very least, feel secure, recognized and valued, not sidelined and forgotten. The offering of haldi (turmeric), kumkum (red powder) and chaval (grains of rice) to deities, in that order, is a ritual acknowledgment of this human anxiety.

• The yellow of turmeric is a virile color, the colour of the sun, spreading across the sky and reaching out to the earth. The intent behind sprinkling it over the deity is to evoke the deity's grace and power. Turmeric is antiseptic, destroying germs as the gods destroy demons. It is meant to remove negative energy, the feeling of prevailing threat.
  
• Red is the colour of potential energy; virgin-goddesses are draped in a red sari. Red evokes a sense of the fertile red earth before the rains, holding the promise of crops. It is meant to usher in positive energy, a highlighting of our strengths.
  
• Rice is food, sustaining life, the final output that rises out of the earth and is warmed by the sun. It is meant to draw attention to the opportunity created by the relationship that can follow.
  

Often in meetings, for want of time, people get straight down to business, focusing on tasks and targets. Quick introductions are followed by a clarification of the agenda and the meeting is begun immediately. Meetings then, become a process and not a meeting of hearts and minds. There is no Durga exchanged in such a meeting and so it lacks energy, engagement and joy.

Whenever Herbert goes for a meeting, he always smiles and admits he is nervous, enough to want to visit the restroom several times. This relieves the tension in the meeting room and even makes people chuckle. This is his haldi. He then compliments the person he is meeting: sometimes about the company they work for, or the shirt they are wearing. Sometimes he starts a conversation about the country they're from, or the mobile phone they are using. There is always something nice to say about a person if one looks for it. This is kumkum. Only after easing the tension with a casual conversation, does Herbert get to the main body of the meeting—the chaval—drawing attention to the agenda. Over the years he has learned that when people feel relaxed and positive, the meeting gives better results. He also knows that haldi and kumkum offered mechanically and not genuinely yield nothing.

Praise empowers us

Aarti is the ritual of beholding the deity. Lamps are waved around the deity so that light falls on the image of the god or goddess. This is often accompanied by the singing of bhajans, the lyrics of which draw attention to the deity's great accomplishments: the killing of demons, the rescue of devotees, the admiration of all beings. It is an exercise that acknowledges the deity's deeds and achievements.

The ritual draws attention to the value of praise. Everyone likes to hear good things about themselves and their work. Our self-image thrives on it. Praise reaffirms our faith in ourselves. It makes us feel validated. It makes us feel acknowledged. It makes us feel alive.