“Performance” Linked Incentive – The PLI-ght of the blighter who was neck-deep in…

(2 posts ago, I mentioned the god’s way of disbursing bonuses. This week, it is a humble effort to show that even human way is no better. Bottom-line? – No Hope! J)

The day you have signed on the dotted line endowing a substantial part of your pay packet to performance linked incentive (PLI) you are doomed. Take it from me. I am not talking about increment – a chunk of your future denied but incentive – a part of your past robbed.

Most of us would have had the wool pulled over our eyes. There is no shame in admitting it, for our ilk has the strength in numbers, if nothing else. At the last straw poll, the head count stood at a comfortable 99.87%.

When we got appointment letter with the last (and least important) page coyly mumbling “salary break-up” and loudly screaming PLI – 20%, we did not wince. We grinned sheepishly, when the HR hinted how employees who do not “put their stake in the ground” or “do not wish to grow with the company” rank a shade below thugs and many notches above petty thieves. We believed naively that the company is merely holding it for safe-keep for we know not, how to manage our finances. And behold the joy in the eyes of the starving souls at home, when they see 240% at one go, than 20% every month! Wow, these guys are good with numbers!

A year later, the sheepish grin gives way to quivering lips. Belief turns into bewilderment when we sit holding the last salary check. Figures in front of us get blurred. Suddenly we hear things that are completely different from what we were feeding to the investors and announcing in public domain. “Company is in bad shape”. “”You did well, but your team/function on the whole slipped”. “We have invested more in you than we got in return” “None in the company is paid a dime”.

“Where is the harvest?”, you wonder. But frankly, did you not see it coming?

You would have, if you had heard this fabulous fable at the knees of your elders. If not, lose no more time and deep-dive into the narrative.

Once upon a time, a young bloke walked into the court of a king seeking a suitable position. The king was in an indulgent mood, so he directed the administrative officer to take him on rolls as a palace guard and pay him “10 gold coins every month”, a princely sum. The young man’s joy knew no bounds and he profusely thanked the kind king. The kind king, then directed the young man to do a small task to prove his worth and mettle before he could join the duty.

“Your wish is my command, dear lord; please let me know what I have to do?” cried the lad.

“Stand over-night, neck-deep in the river flowing by the palace clad only in your loin cloth and report to duty tomorrow. Or off with your head”. The jolly king ordered thus and retired to his harem.

It was the month of December. The cold wave was at its strongest. It is the time of the year when even a rhinoceros would prefer few blankets and a cozy corner, just inches away from the crackling fire place.

The youth ventured forth jauntily. With a song on his near-blue lips he dipped his toes in the waters. Inch by freezing inch, he waded through the liquid ice and settled down in a place where he could comfortably have his head above the waters. He stood there all night, stark naked, save his loin cloth. His eyes, full of life and zest, wandered hither and thither and rested upon one of the brightly lit torches shimmering through the palace windows. He meditated upon the golden words of the king and the thoughts on the impending job. The remuneration it carried eased the cold current cutting through to his bones.

Next day morning the happy soul made his way to the king’s court and stood there quivering and expectantly. The king lifted an enquiring eyebrow at him and asked what he wanted. The youth, though taken aback a bit, narrated what transpired the previous evening and asked him for his reward. The king still groggy from the bacchanalia of the previous night and the sweet but hazy memory of a night well spent, inquired “how did you manage to walk here, without passing out”?. The youth answered that he was a happy and sturdy soul and the thought of the bounty that the morning would bring kept him from freezing to death. He also mentioned spending time looking at the brightly lit torch. “Aah, there you are now I know how you managed to stay warm and alive even in the freezing cold. The warmth from the torch of the palace! And to think that the precious oil and the high grade cotton is wasted on a vagabond like you doing meaningless chores of standing stark naked in neck-deep waters! What if you had died? They would have blamed me and not you! Glad I kept the window open, so you didn’t meet an untimely death. Now off you go, and do not ever set foot on this soil again. Else…”

Now I have heard varying versions of the same, where a wise and unwavering minister comes to the rescue of the stricken lad and gets the king to see reason and make good his promise. But I think, it’s pure fiction and humbug. Which king drunk with power ever saw reason? Or which coterie feeding off the fat of the land merrily would stake it’s all for the sake of a naïve aspirant?

I am a smart man, if not a wise being. I have a year-long supply of thermal loin clothes handy for I know winters here are much worse. And the only favor I ask my king is to ensure it’s water that he sends me to stand neck-deep into and no stinking swamp. Thank god, I indeed am blessed with a kind king.

Make an ass of yourself. But don’t let the world know.

Many a time we are swept by that overwhelming feeling to bare all. Not to be mistaken with confession which is done after ensuring that there is nothing further to lose on account of reputation; but pure tear jerker stuff. Born out of righteous indignation. Or plain stupidity. The former we can still condone, but it’s the later course that we are well advised to steer clear of. And here’s a sweet story that gives a reason why and urges us to hold back whenever we find ourselves in similar situations.

Not so long ago, when there were still prying but sympathetic peers abound (of which the later variety is a rare and endangered species these days) there lived an average Joe monk in a monastery. One day after his usual ablutions, meditations, chores done and frugal meals partaken; he set out to gather firewood in the nearby woods for the rituals at twilight. His both hands occupied, holding the bundle of firewood perched on his head; little could he do to defend himself when a wild dog dug its sharpest into the fleshiest part of his anatomy that which he cannot see.

Smarting under the sharp pangs of his submitting so meekly before the lowliest of creatures and limping under the practicality of having to now shift weight to one leg that which didn’t have the honor of submitting itself to the cursed cur’s uncompromising and deep oral dalliance; the monk thought thus hurrying towards the tall and fortified walls of the comforting monastery beyond the reach of such wily whelps.

“Mm..let me see now; there are around 377 brother monks behind the blessed boundaries. This pronounced limping coupled with the not so nuanced painful contortions of my face are bound to draw both attention and sympathetic yet piercing questions about what transpired. There is no other way for me but to open up and give them a detailed account of the state of affairs. The more matronly of the fraternity will want to dwell on the shape, size, speed and stealth of that scourge on four legs. Not once but many a tens of times have I to go through this motion of explaining to each and every one. Reliving through those painful moment again and again with no prospect of the pain ever dulling. Or me finding time to tend to that tender part of self in the privacy of my chamber. I trust the better way out of this predicament would be to…”

Into the sight came the hallowed monastery, rising magnificently from the woods. Amid the chirping of the birds snuggling into their well feathered nests and the call of the wild; the monk could make out faint peal of the clear bell ringing in the dusk and striking thunderbolt awareness into his hollowed head.

As a hurricane in hurry, shot the monk towards the monastery doors, resembling a moth rocketing towards the leaping tongues of fire, throwing caution to the winds. Scurrying up the tower that housed the bell, lifting the otherwise half-a-ton weighing gong like the feather of a celestial bird and striking it against the bronze bell with all his might; all this was a moment’s work.

Surveying the surging shaven heads and their scrutinizing gazes; the monk turned around, bent over, lifted the ochre robe well above the mark that pumps blood into the sternest of cheeks and proceeded to recount the ordeal he hath passed through that unfortunate evening….

Now my dear friends; when did we not feel the strong urge to announce to the world what we have passed through in the wilderness of our respective corporates? Almost everyday I hear you all cry in unison. I know. I been there. But thankfully I haven’t done that. For however much the temptation is of unburdening self of the travails I face day in and day out, I know there aren’t many kindly and brotherly souls around. So keep shifting weights, drag the feet and keep a smiling face. And working hard at throwing a sympathetic glance in for good measure in hope that some numbskull will fall for it and entertain me with his tale of misery. And over and above that I make sure to carry a sturdy staff and bide my time. For though there is a dearth of kindly hearts it’s more than made up by an overabundance of the blasted bowwows.

Re-inventing self after an Appraisal? – Learn from the stricken snake

The Appraisal Pandora envelope brings with it many plagues – “Meets expectations”, “Extend probation / Defer promotion”. Those are the early pests that fly in your face, the moment you step into the claustrophobic and asphyxiating cabin of your boss.

The unkindest bite of all, though, is delivered by “Needs to improve on people skills”. Words fail one. Your entire water-cooler and office party life flashes in front of your eyes for a mind-numbing moment. What does it mean?

Whatever it is, you fall into concurrence because EMIs on house, car, children’s education; the liability list jolts you out of your reflections. You nod meekly and surrender abjectly. Better the white flag than the pink-slip, you realize. You take the feedback to heart. You strive hard to change. You invest in “How to..”, “Joy @ “2 minute..”, “Soup and Cheese..” and other delirium inducing series. You buy roses to strew around, pick up the bill where earlier it was the toothpick, at best, you picked up. You suppress your nausea and raise your eyebrows in appreciation, at the ghastly family pictures on the softboard of your colleague. You greet everyone, right from the security guard to the CEO’s driver. You gag your conscience and compliment the secretary even on her worst hair-day. The works.

6 months later (or an year later, depending on how often your organization wants to inflict this on you), you will be sitting in the same cabin, across the same table and same face, with the same words slashing your heart “Needs to improve on people skills”.

I learnt the futility of such revolving-door-reinvention, the day my grandmother told me this story! Am I any wiser? Now that’s a territory, I ask you strictly not to trespass into! Read the story and may be YOU will benefit.

Master Wai and monk Waimudu, after cursing the do-good villagers (ref my earlier entry “Bless the bounders…” ), took leave from them to proceed towards their next destination. The good villagers that they were, warned the master-monk duo of the perilous jungle that lay ahead and suggested an alternate path, which was a tad bit longer. Wai smiling, proceeded at a faster pace towards the straight and narrow, dangerous as it may be.

The path was covered with grass, indicating it wasn’t used in a long time. The jungle itself appeared serene and bountiful, with fruit laden trees; brooks with cool, clear and sweet water and what not. Waimudu keeping pace with his master was taking the beauty of the jungle in, along with a juicy bunch of wild strawberries, wondering what it was that kept the villagers off this nature’s boon. And the answer to that appeared the next moment and lay right in the middle of their path.

A huge, hissing, snarling, slithery being with glowering eyes. Waimudu, was just about weighing his chances of being welcomed into the celestial damsels’ abode, when Master Wai proceeded to address the snake thus.

Master Wai (MW): How are you today, my friend?

Hissing, Snarling, Slithery Snake (HSSS):
Hungry and ready to sink my fangs in trespassers like you (Proceeding ominously with hood raised)

MW: You won’t dare do that with me. Here, sample this – “De-motion“ (Author: An effective mantra, if ever when used on lowly minions of all hues, that hampers further progress)

HSSS stopped in its tracks petrified, its limbless supine body feeling that more than ever. Finding tongue (the other one, that comes in handy precisely in such situations when you misuse one) it said

HSSS: Please forgive my ignorance. I spoke loosely knowing not how powerful you are

MW: It’s ok. Why do you want to unnecessarily scare poor folks away from enjoying this largesse of nature; which belongs to all. Don’t scare them henceforth unnecessarily and I will ensure status-quo-ante

HSSS: Please, I won’t. I promise to mend my ways. Thanks (feeling the cold blood circulate once again).

Mouthing platitudes profusely, HSSS crawled away to its little hole in the ground, shedding its hitherto scales of meanness and aggression.

After a few months of spreading wisdom in their journey, Master Wai and Monk Waimudu on their way back happened to pass through the same but different jungle – Path wide and well-worn, de-fruited trees, huge stumps whose trunks ended up warming many a cold wintery nights or cook a delicious meal, brooks muddied. Mourning over the ravages the once beautiful jungle had suffered, Master Wai turned his head towards a thick bush alongside the path, from whence were proceeding heart-wrenching gasps and hisses, that of a dying being.

Going around, he found the once proud HSSS in a pitiable and pathetic condition. Huge wounds, oozing blood and feasted upon by flies, were all over its once shining mane. The eyes lost their luster, the once long stretched body coiled listlessly with nary a sign of life, save a slow and erratic heaving. MW ran a soothing hand over the body of the stricken snake and asked it what has brought it to this state.

(Author: The following narrative is pieced together using some creative license, as it would be impossible for a snake on its last limbs to be able to reconstruct so lucidly such a long narrative)

HSSS (gasping and in a sepulchral tone): I followed your advice master…and stopped hissing n biting n scaring the one or two brave souls who in the initial days have wandered this way. Slowly the word spread, and the trickle of passersby turned into a torrent of travelers; caravans, families on bullock carts, wood-cutters, farmers..everyone who had or did have a stake in this forest. At first they were still trepidations about what I would do. Then it started with a pesky kid throwing a lump of mud at me.

Encouraged by the lack of response, they then started throwing stones of all makes, from a distance and then over a period ventured to poke every square inch of my body with sharp wooden pikes. And then took immense pleasure in beating me with them. Just yesterday, two kids and their uncle stomped on me taking turns for over an hour as a part of some elaborate ritual. Now here I am waiting for deliverance. Where did I go wrong?

MW: My dear friend. I asked you not to bite them and scare them without reason. That doesn’t mean you lose your natural instincts and stop hissing and keeping them at bay all together! Here drink this potion and you will regain your strength and form. Live a long life with this lesson learnt.

The story ends there, and I don’t know what happened next. Whether the snake heeded the advice second time and made hiss-story or whether the emboldened junta using longer sticks and bigger stones snuffed the life out of it, once they saw it rearing its hood again. But not being any wiser than the snake after its first appraisal session; and not having a wise Master Wai around to help me read between the lines and nurse me back to strength after initial set-backs; I still play the fool and keep reinventing myself never endingly.

Here is to hoping at least some of you profit from my granny’s story!

Pray for just rewards – But choose your god well!

It’s an annual ritual. Bleeding hearts, burnt dreams. Cursing tongues, thunderous snorts. All troop out beating retreat. A handful of smiling visages, whistling lips; follow suit a little later.

A passerby (who’s making two trips one coinciding with the march past of the majority and the other with the motley minority) can be excused for wondering if they sign in the same roster. They do.

For the day when one sees this vertical split in the emotions of ranks is the “Annual Bonus Cheque Day” (ABCD in short).

It’s but natural to feel let down, after having slogged for 364 days (plus one in a leap year), seeing your age on the cheques. As against hearing from helpful minnows in HR about others who had their telephone numbers slapped down on those very cheques. The blood boils!

But who do you curse? At whom should you direct your well justified (so you think) anger at? Who should you haul over the proverbial coals? No one but yourself! Surprised? Over to Mullah Nasruddin (MN).

One day, MN was on his evening walks mulling, as usual, over the world and its ways. He came across four boys, who were carrying a sack of walnuts. Seeing MN, the wise man that he is reputed to be, the four boys asked him to distribute the walnuts among them. They all had toiled together to amass that bounty. One brought the sack from home, one made a hole in the walnut garden fence, one stood vigil and the other climbed trees to fill the sack. Indeed, great teamwork. Now is the time for sharing the spoils, for they know not the economics of the same. Except a vague notion that it should be equitable. But alas, none of them is equipped to carry out the task. MN was a god-sent dispenser of justice, for anyone else will have surely demanded a share of the pie.

MN, smiling and stroking his silver-grey beard; asked the boys how they want it to be shared. “God’s way or the human way”.

“God’s way”, pat came the reply in unison. For it is god’s will alone that has brought riches on them!

“So be it” said the benevolent Mullah and got down to business.

He took two huge fists-full of walnuts and thrust them into the stretched hands of a one who took them gleefully. The next expectant slob was in for a rude shock – one walnut!! Joy knew no bounds when the third kid had the entire sack emptied into the headscarf that MN asked to be opened and laid down! And a tight slap across the face of the aghast 4^th poor sucker!!! 2&4 let out a shriek that would have reached heavens; while 1 was left in two minds – whether to be happy with what he got or feel miserable looking at what 3 has received. Leaving behind sobbing, shrieking, slapping, scratching kids, MN went on his way muttering “they should have asked for the human way”!

For all you folks who feel odd like 2&4, let this be a lesson. When you have prayed to god to grant a fair share for your toils, your fate was sealed. That’s how gods function. Nothing mysterious in that!

Be advised to direct your prayers and pandering elsewhere. To the gods in human form – boss/top management. For the happy folks whom you have seen walking by planning the next big investment or an expensive 7-star holiday, know where to turn. And whom to propitiate and prostrate!

May somebody bless you. I am off to do some Find & Replace on certain nouns in my hymn book.

Mantra to fare well in your career – Bless those bounders that hound you out

Most of you would have done that. Curse to high hell the company and / or the team that you were leaving behind. Wishing it folds up, being sucked into the vacuum created by your leaving. “They should know better than kicking me out”. You mutter, while stuffing the “Dadda, mamma, me and our home” impressionist scribbling done by your 2 year old into the staples box.

Such is human tendency. Especially the tender, raw nerve that’s touched upon by not having a farewell or worse being send off by one-line email, “wishing him/her all the very best in his/her future end…”. Understandable.

Pink is not exactly the color-célèbre, when it comes to slips.

But my dear fellow travelers hear me out. There is never more a foolish wish to be praying for than asking for the plague of the company you are leaving behind to disintegrate and those pests of peers and superiors to disperse all over. Instead you must pray for them all to do extra-ordinarily well, the company listed in the best of the bourses, their ESOPs multiplied a 100 times, with salaries tripled and promotions hastened and that they outprice themselves from the job market. Think I am extremely stupid? Read on.

A long time ago, in the era when masters were mentally, morally and spiritually superior to their follower monks; there lived master Wai and his naïve yet faithful follower WaiMudu. Master Wai was a wandering soul, seeking nirvana that is anywhere but the place he is present in. (The modern career-minded may recognize this hopping nature of the monk and nod approvingly at the breaks in his spiritual CV; for then as now parking in one place never got you anywhere). Breaking down complex philosophical commentaries into simple quotes, showing the path to worldly riches in seven simple steps, managing life in one-minute or saving cheese…you get the drift, were few of the philanthropic deeds the monk indulged in for the benefit of the humanity.

During one such wanderings, he passed through a village. Knocking at the first house that lay in his path, Wai asked for a glass of water and some meal to go with it. “What the… Look at you, you %&#$. You look hail and healthy. Why can’t you *&^%$#!@ earn your daily bread instead of doling out worthless and unsolicited advices to us. &^%$ off”. First the barrage. Then the bang of the door in his face. Wiping the spittoon off his weathered yet smiling visage, Wai proceeded to the next house. And the next one. One street after another, not profiting either in the way of quenching thirst or quelling hunger Wai and Waimudu, a disparaging and derisive crowd behind them, stepped out of the village.

Waimudu was muttering under his breath what he would like to be done to the villagers (his recently enhanced vocabulary coming in handy), when to his utter disbelief, there proceeded from the mouth of his master, the following:

“May this village prosper for a 1000 years and all its inhabitants and their future generations make merry like no other. May they have timely rains and bumper crops; turn stinking rich and build palaces in this very place”

Waimudu did not know what to make of this insanity. Nor he had the inclination to clear his doubts then and there for a
grumbling stomach is not an ideal audience for the voice of reasoning.

Slowly but steadily their weary legs bore them towards another village.

Lo. What a world of change! On sighting them, the humble and caring villagers fell over each other to offer them worldly comforts. One elderly person washed their mud-caked feet, another wiped them dry. One housewife held an umbrella from the scorching sun while another started fanning them. Cushions were brought to make their seating comfortable; plates were laid and simple yet delicious food was offered. Sweetmeats and fruits appeared and vanished at the same pace. Packing some for the journey ahead, for one known not when the next such benevolent village will come their way, the contended master, follower duo left the village, leaving behind a joyous bunch of simple minded folks.

Waimudu, squeezing a juicy mango was contemplating the order and magnitude of blessings he wanted to bestow on the large hearted villagers, when once again his disbelieving ears perked up at the following contrarian words, which proceeded from his master Wai:

“May this village be hit with a disastrous famine and the villagers disperse in all directions”

Incredulous as they were, Waimudu couldn’t hold on any longer and confronted his master, all his righteous indignation boiling and bubbling over.

“What sort of insanity is this master? Where you were kicked and spat at and driven out like a dirty distempered dog; you wanted heavens to shower prosperity on them. And where our parched tongues and simmering stomachs were truly and selflessly served, you cursed them to rot in hell!”

Smiling and looking indulgently at his bristling ward, Wai said:

“Son, without reflecting upon the consequences and acting in the heat of the moment, imagine what would happen if I had reversed my words on the respective village.

The kindly villagers would prosper yet stay put. The kickers would disperse all over the world, to surface and cross our paths in some other village where the same fate would then await us. It is better they prosper where they are, see no reason to leave the place and in the process contain the damage they can wrought on fellow human beings and limiting the poison they are capable of spreading.

The givers on the other hand, should move about the world and seed such DNA of sharing and caring; helping wanderers like us to make our living”

I firmly believe Waimudu was my ancestor and his blood runs in me. I may not have learnt much to become a master. But I learnt enough to pray for the buggers I leave behind earn their stripes where they are, not crossing my path or ending up as my peers or bosses in the next company I land a job in.

My 2 bits 4 OD – Giving the new team a leg-up

Sarcasm. Cynicism. Escapist. Defeatist. Deserter. Growup. Wakeup.

I decided to turn a new leaf. For once. And show all those who showered such encomiums on me, see me for what I am.

A sucker.

One who easily caves in. And wants to do the right thing, once, just once in life. And then hopefully, life will be as usual.

So here I go digressing from my chosen path. Trying to give actionable spiel. Straight and Simple. Take it or leave me to do my thing.

————————X—————————-

Imagine starting a new function/team – Alliances & Partnerships, Employee relationship management, Analytics, Talent grooming etc. You believe it can add tremendous value to your organization. You are unsure if it will be accepted fully by other stakeholders it is expected to support. You do not want to be seen aggressively pushing it, as it may lead to resistance and you may be pulled in once too often to sort things. You do not want to rock the boat, lest it upset the current state of affairs. You are sure though that once the new function/team proves its worth; functions will become more receptive to leaning on it. What do you do?

Here are my two bits:

• Invite all stakeholder functions, the new team is expected to support, for a meeting
• Ask the stakeholder functions to list 2 projects each, they want outsourced if budget and external agency were provided to them

  The characteristics of these challenges must be that they

  • Are not yet initiated by the respective teams due to lack of
    • Internal resources
    • Bandwidth
    • Expertise
  • Can be completed in the next 3/6 months
  • Require the skill/expertise of the new function/team that is created
  • Are value-adding and not cosmetic in nature
  • The value-addition can be quantified
• Ask the various stakeholder functions to chose 1/2 projects from the total listed basis their
  • Criticality to the organization
  • Involvement/interactions with multiple functions etc.
• Ask them to identify success metrics for the same

   

• Introduce the new team formally – Outline the vision for the new function; its key objectives; contours of its role and responsibilities; skills; experience etc.
• Tell them that the new function will lead the identified project(s)
• Ask those stakeholder functions whose project it is to nominate a Single Point Of Contact from their function to facilitate inputs
• Schedule a review mechanism till the end of the project
• Invite the new team to take the project forward

Here the assumption is that reason-whys for setting up the new team is clear in the top management’s mind. And the decision is taken after satisfactorily answering certain key questions like:

• Is there a need for a new team or support function within the organization?
• What does it do that cannot be done by one or any of the teams in the existing set-up?
• How does the new function help the organization? Will its impact be incremental or a long lasting game-changer?
• Are there initiatives / projects that it can take up and execute over the next few years or is it like setting up a task force?

Will it work? I don’t know. Is it worth trying? I believe so.

7Ps of Power – How the “Blue-Dyed Fox” won the career war

“I am done. We are half-way through and I realize that I am a spent force. I can now kiss goodbye to “young achiever”. Even “late bloomer” seems to be a distant dream” smiled the NPE weakly.

“Don’t give up so easily and early in the game. Nothing is lost yet. It is true that position, positioning and proximity are bestowed largely on one by the benevolent boss. Still there are few things one can do to turn the tide in one’s favor”. The wise accountant laid an assuring hand on the NPE’s shoulder.

“They alone can deliver Rank, Recognition and Rewards. In their absence, I don’t think one stands a chance. How can anything else help you get the fruits of power?” cried out the hapless NPE aloud.

“Meet my friend, the blue fox. Starting with a handicap on account of the first three Ps, it set the course right by managing Personality, Perceptions and PR”

“Make it Small” said NPE to the approaching bar-man, indicating the quantum of his intake.

“I will” said the sensitive accountant, a little hurt assuming it was aimed at his story rendering.

Grammar isn’t his forte which short-fall he more than makes up for in financial re-engineering. Still he quickly regained his composure seeing where the three words were directed. He then proceeded to relate the story of the blue-dyed fox.

Once upon a time, a lion ruled a jungle ably assisted by two foxes, F1 and F2. Among their chief duties were:

1. Ensuring Lion is left undisturbed by whining and complaining subjects
2. Keeping an eye on unsatisfied and potentially threatening claimants for the throne
3. Enticing unsuspecting and fatty animals to places where the lion can easily hunt down
4. Keeping the subjects fear/awe/respect of the lion intact, by spreading tales of valor

The same were carried out efficiently by the foxes. And they were justly rewarded by the lion with juicy bits of its killings. Along with seats on either side of its throne. Both the foxes exhibited exemplary camaraderie, for the benefit of the jungle. But at every opportunity each of them tried to prove the other unworthy of the lion’s court. Perceived equality amongst peers indeed breeds contempt.

F1 being better off in the art of sucking-up soon became first among equals. It followed a well laid path for a sub-ordinate to win over the boss(For enlightenment on the path browse through “Scatterbrained Scribblings -
Salvation or Starvation“, an earlier blog entry, patiently) and gained the lion’s confidence. One willing ear and a wily tongue can root-out a thousand destinies.

Soon F2 saw the signs of shifting sands, did a SWOT and quickly decided to scoot (To know how to read the writing on the wall read “Scatterbrained Scribblings -
When the going gets tough“). He went about searching for an ideal retiring spot and thought he found one, when he came across a village, a good 15 days travel from the jungle. The village is teeming with dogs and belonging to similar species but of a wilier make, getting a leg-up on them would be a walk in the park. Or so he thought. The dogs made life hell the moment he entered the new and unfamiliar territory. He was barked at, bitten off, and chased through every nook and corner. Trying to shake them off, the fox entered a washerman’s house and jumped into an empty vat. Or so he thought. The vat was full of blue dye and he let out an yelp and jumped right back and shot out off the house. Straight into the midst of the waiting pack.

Imagine its surprise, when waiting to be torn into a thousand pieces it suddenly sees the entire pack beat a retreat as if they have seen a ghost. It got its answer in a minute when it reached the village pond to quench its thirst induced by exhaustion. It took another minute or so to put two and two together. From thence to quickly figure out the next course of action, putting a plan in action to regain lost glory and pre-eminence is but a small step. Fortune favors the shrewd.

It went to the jungle, not to the lion first. The arrival of a new personality that is unlike anything they have seen till date, rose the curiosity of the animals and birds alike. They watched it from a distance; spoke amongst themselves in hushed tones, bets were placed on what it could be. Some brave souls ventured to a sniffing distance, found the same harmless and shed their inhibition. Soon perceptions about this true blue creature changed and word got around that “It’s OK”. On its part, the dyed fox played to the gallery, helping a thorn-stuck rabbit here and a broken winged parrot there; throwing a neat party now and then; earning good PR and the trust of a thousand gullible creatures. To climb the ladder you need your feet on the rungs below and hands clasping the ones above.

Soon there was enough buzz created about the fox and it reached the lion’s ears. He came down to check for himself. He saw the transformed one, recognized who it was under the thick coat of paint. Glancing around he saw the adoration with which the subjects held this new creature. The fox bowed to the lion and said “They put their trust in me; and I can help put them all in you with little effort” and smiled. The Lion quickly weighed. It was becoming difficult for F1 alone to carry out all the duties satisfactorily. Besides that F1 is becoming a clone of himself, making it difficult for easy and large prey to come by. The Lion made the decision. For it knew. Once earned, through whatever means, trust of dumb subjects pays lifelong.

Soon F2 was back at his old place, nudging out F1 as the blue-dyed boy. Though F1 could figure out who F2 is, there was little that it could do except pray that one day there would be rain on F2’s parade. Little does he know of the stickiness of a dye. And the good and longlasting effects of Perceptions and PR.

—————————–XXX——————————-XXX—————————–XXX—————————XXX——————————-

“Wish we have many more such sessions”, clearing the bill and leaving a hefty tip behind; firmly pressing the extended hand of the accountant, the NPE spoke from the heart.

“I am sure we will” the accountant responded sincerely, for he heard somewhere that Rome wasn’t built in a day. And that isn’t half as hard as building his character and confidence, of one who has embarked on a journey to the cabin.

7 Ps of power – Proximity wins the day or “Eagle in the Snake’s shadow”

“I can’t but agree with what you are saying”, said NPE, “still I cannot shake off the belief that performance is as important as the other variables in your equation” in a meek tone.

It was with a great effort that the accountant resisted the strong urge to bring down the glass hard on the flat pate of the mutterer of such bilge. For not only is he a sworn pacifist but also a supreme visionary – at least to the extent of seeing who the bill footer is in an hour’s time from now.

“It is never easy to accept the obvious. But wisdom will eventually dawn and one sees things for what they are. Let me…” the words were drowned in the din that rose from a far corner in the room. After a 2 minute interval in which all the faces in the bar turned to the corner; the conversation at the table resumed; once again to be interrupted when the bearer came with repeats.

“What was it all about?” inquired the accountant.

“Nothing much sir, just a misunderstanding that arose because of the mismatch in demand and supply. The gentleman over there asked for Cobra beer, which we at the moment do not have. One thing led to another but before it could worsen; the sensible gentleman there saw it fit to settle for the Golden Eagle, of which we have enough stock, upon the arrival of our competent bouncer on the scene.”

“What a coincidence! Those were the principle characters in the next story I was about to tell you”.

“The beers?”

“No bears. Just a soaring eagle and a slithering snake.” “Which of these two, if they were competing colleagues in a corporate like ours, is better placed to win the race to the corner office?” posed the accountant.

NPE was quick to take it on the front foot “Eagle”

“Why?”

“Because he:

• Is designed and destined to reach and roam freely those heights which others can only dream of doing on their own;
• Has a sharp vision, to see things even from 30,000 feet up;
• Can laser focus on a moving target and swoop down quickly to strike at will;
• Leads a largely risk-free life; except those from force majeure, like an occasional lightning or thunder;
• Has strength, speed, striking capabilities par excellence
• Adorns the flags of many superpowers including gods”

Leaning back into his chair, the NPE stirred and sipped the contents of his glass, savoring the moment. He has laid it out well and was happy to get coherent and well constructed points across for the first time in the day.

The accountant smiled and asked his next question.

“Who does your mother feed eggs and milk to in temples on the fourth day after Diwali*”?

Stumped by the question, but nevertheless regaining his composure quickly, answered the NPE “Snake”. With a sinking feeling that this might be another of those discussions which, eventually will end up with him being at the receiving end of the morals; he waited for the next one.

“Which of these two has more movies written after itself, sometimes even starring in the title role?”

“Sss…Oh, what’s the point? Get to the story quickly” said a resigned NPE settling down to get another earful.

“It was not always the case, this subservience of eagles to snakes. In fact both these creatures started out as siblings, born out of the same father the great sage Kashyapa. Vinata and Kadruva, his two wives bore the eagle Garuda and the entire serpentine species respectively. Along the way, Kadruva the younger of the wives, using her wiliness (for where do you think the snakes got this trait) tricked Vinata over a minor point and turned her and her son into Kadruva’s slaves.

It was the eagle Garuda who as you might imagine had a head start, in line with the first 5 points of your case for the eagle. He could carry hundreds of his step-brothers on his giant wings; playfully soar to the skies swoop down in a jiffy giving them, the snakes, one hell of a rollercoaster ride on earth. This continued from their early childhood till all of them entered manhood, when the age of innocence is melting away giving way to jealousy, competitiveness and a whole host of other manly traits.

One day, while at his playful best Garuda took his cousins right upto the sun, the searing heat of which burnt most of them and rendered the rest unconscious. Angry their mother Kadruva, invoked the slave clause, asked Garuda to bring back her sons to life by bringing Amruta (Ambrosia) from heaven, or else…

Eager to do the right thing and release self and mother from the shackles of slavery, Garuda nodded and in a moment reached the skies and landed in Amatravathi, the city of gods. Fighting the might of the gods residing in Amaravathi, taking the pot of Amruta; and heading back home was a moment’s job for our great eagle friend. In spite of protestations by Indra, the king of gods, of the perils of making snakes invincible and immortal; Garuda exchanged it for his mother. Indra meanwhile using his slyness stole the Amruta before the snakes could have their fill. Scalded snakes and their mother were scorned and vowed to get back at the eagle at the very first opportunity, which didn’t take long to come.

Vishnu, CMD of all gods, pleased by Garuda’s performace offered him a post of his choice and perks that he willed, at his place.

Garuda the naïve soul, having his heart at the right place, asked for his brothers to be risen from ashes and also given key positions of their choice at Divinity Incorporated. The snakes, knowing that this is their chance to score one up on the eagle forever, using their foresight, decided on proximity as the key ingredient. Settling for what appeared to be mere ornamental posts, Adi Seshu, the first snake (eldest brother) offered himself as the celestial bed for Vishnu; Vasuki the second one, as a necklace for Siva, the destroyer.

Garuda, weighed options and chose to be the carrier of Vishnu; a position which best fits his capabilities and leverages his skill set. But alas, little did he realize that Vishnu takes different roles in different times and doesn’t always necessarily take his vehicle everywhere and everytime. But whatever his daily deeds at night he needs a bed to rest and to Adi Seshu does he retire too. Siva meanwhile carries Vasuki everywhere he goes, for a man of minimal adornments and wants; this necklace is one thing that caught his fancy well.

As time progressed; the pre-eminence of Garuda decreased and he was reduced to a mere Executive Assistant; called in only on occasions -once a quarter or year; when Vishnu feels like having an outing (A mere ceremonial ritual these days in temples across the country).

The snakes, owing to their mere proximity and nothing more, have legions of devotees who petition them very often and appeasing them in all possible and befitting manner – putting them on pedestals; offering them milk n eggs; celebrating their birthdays with vim and vigor; taking them on as role-models….

The Eagle since that fateful day when he let his heart rule his head; is a mere shadow of his former capable self; living in the shadow of his slimy siblings”

Stirring contents of his glass, the accountant stirred something else too, with his words.

“Capabilities, skill sets; right fit; doing the right thing; continuous performance…all these are aspects you must appreciate. In others. And from a distance. It’s proximity ultimately that you should pray for to get what you want”

 

* Festival of lights

 

7 Ps of Power: Positioning lessons from the life of a legendary eunuch

“You can learn a lot from the experiences of the eunuch”, closing his eyes as if drawing from the rich and deep memory of a youth well spent, the accountant spoke.

“Tch, tch, I thought we were discussing about power and how to gain it and not prowess or the lack of it”, red faced the NPE blurted.

It was the accountant’s turn to blush. “You got me wrong. Much as I would like to expound on various themes that will be closer to many an office-hour net-surfers’ heart, there is a time and place for everything.” “I assumed you knew your mythology well. I was referring to Shikandi and what you could learn from her experience in terms of positioning and getting one’s due in the name and fame department”

“I know about Shikandi, isn’t she the one behind whom Arjuna hid and shot down Bhishma, the invincible grand old man of Mahabarata?” said the NPE.

“Not bad, you got it mostly right and therein lies the learning for the round”

“Which is?”

“All in good time and I will make it quickly this time around.” Downing the amber colored brain stimulants and looking thoughtfully at the glass as its emptiness was expunged by the ever vigilant bearer; the accountant dispelling with his customary narrative; proceeded to make it snappier as promised.

“The story of Shikandi holds many interesting learnings for all the blokes feeling an explosive impotent rage within of not getting their due often. Inspite of being well endowed with all the qualities that make one a great asset in any situation or organization. One only feels used and is never amused.”

“Like the young campus recruit. An Alumnus who made it or a regular in the corporate dossier walks in during the corporate swayamvara (aka placement week). A rosy picture is painted. The recruit is told that she would be responsible for the bright future of the Kuru-porate. She will be promised all the perks of a vibrant organization life and pre-eminence. And is lured away from other suit-ors.”

“So was with Amba, who along with 2 other pretty sisters was raided by Bhishma during their swayamvar, for the sake of his brother. When she was bought to Vichitravirya, Bhisma’s brother; Amba realised he was not her cup of tea and said so to Bhishma. But one’s you have signed on the dotted line, there is no going back. Nor is any other suitor willing to take on Amba, for who knows how badly she was corrupted during her short stint. Thus unable to fit into the department she was pushed by Bhishma or to find any other suitable taker, Amba gave up her ambition for the moment, did some deep introspection found nothing wrong per se with her; and like all women scorned vowed to make life hell for Bhishma, the person responsible for her short-lived stint in womanhood and the fruits thereof.”

“So she did penance to upskill herself, was born as a daughter into the powerful family of Drupada and was raised like a son. She grew up, married, was ridiculed by the bride on the wedding night when the performance was put to test; took recourse in a change management workshop conducted by a yaksha (demi-god) and exchanged her current avatar to that of a complete man. And bided her time.”

“Jacta alea est. The die was cast. Literally.

Pandavas lost their kingdom, spent 12 years in exile and for 1 year lived anonymously. Petitioned Kauravas for their due, were spurned and a great war ensued. Battle lines were drawn; either side geared up for an all or nothing war; Bhishma leading the Kaurava army from the front. 10 days of war resulted in much damage to both the sides but little headway was made.

Krishna the mentor of Pandavas; called for a quick war-room conference; said the strategy is to make Bhishma throw away his arms and nothing else; and while doing so let a well-guarded secret out. That Bhishma would never fight a woman; or a woman in man’s clothing. Or a man who was a woman in his previous life. Or whatever.

Shikandi was called. Temporary arrangements made for her/him to lead from the front; with Arjuna doing his bit standing behind her. This worked and finally the great Bhishma fell, changing the course of the war firmly in favor of Pandavas, who got name, fame and the entire kingdom.”

“What of Shikandi? On the last day of the war she was murdered in sleep in her tent by those from Kaurava side seeking revenge, as a last and desperate measure. Mission accomplished. But what of it?”

“It is believed that a part of Shikandi’s soul still wanders the earth and nests in all those beings who similarly were lured by big promises into a realm that is anything but real and rosy. Are left in lurch in a no man’s land; wander hither and thither curse their current state of affairs and give it all up. Spend time in reskilling and upskilling themselves; take up positions elsewhere; live anonymous lives largely till their 15 minutes under the spotlight arrives. Give it their best. Get fooled into thinking that they are more than making good of what they have last out on. Realize that the name and fame of the mission that they made success is justly (or otherwise) tagged onto someone else – well positioned by the powers that be (author of the script and the mentor respectively). And finally pass into oblivion at the end of it all.”

There were not many in that house of spirits at the end of the narrative, within earshot, whose soul didn’t feel connected. Campus recruits celebrating their induction into this department or that; NPE; NBP (Never been promoted); POPOs (Pissed over and passed over)…everyone that moment felt closer to each other.

“Is there no way out? Looks like there is a bit of Shikandi in all of us who has ever been through placement week. There is no comfort in knowing you are impotent to begin with” said the NPE in a feeble tone.

“Its never too late to find a suitable positioning for oneself and stick to it like dickens. And then align with a mentor who will help make that positioning stick to you like a label. Whenever in a hole, quickly identify guys with the right and appropriate skillset to bail you out, yet not skillful enough to gain from it. Learn from Shikandi, lead like Arjuna”

7 Ps of Power – Enlightenment @ the house of spirits (E@THOS)

(I was privy to many an enlightening conversation in my lifetime; not by invitation but by virtue of being a very ordinary and listless individual who can blend in the background and can be easily ignored. I am like your ubiquitous taxi/auto driver, housekeeping staff, waiter in a bar or a fly-on-the-wall. It has its merits. And am not complaining because it helps me act my part as an honest medium relaying things in turn to you reader, who hopefully, will learn a trick or two from these scribbling and profit from it.

The following powwow I heard not so long ago; and am sharing it with you in 7 parts; for I know you can only invest so much time at a stretch during working hours; while not getting distracted from playing solitaire or forwarding latest jokes)

“I don’t know. Am elated and at the same time feel empty. Have been doing everything right. Performed well. Went beyond the call of the duty. Am part of all key implementation projects. Boss smiles at me once in a while. Don’t extend my lunch breaks or take multiple caffeine/nicotine breaks. Yet right from being served coffee at the table to being invited for Boss’s regular outings; from figuring in the grapevine often to being called in for board meetings everything seems to be eluding me” groaned the newly promoted executive (NPE), stirring the contents of the glass placed in front of the accountant who asked how it felt to be kicked upstairs, after languishing for 2 years at the same position.

The accountant did his bit indulgently, to cheer up the kid for he liked the lad. This here is a man with a sense of humor who after seeing him surreptitiously browsing an adult site has included him in his spicy e-mail forwarding list. Where others would have not batted an eyelid in appraising the top management of the same or worse giggle knowingly during lunch-time; this man here did what a kid with a golden heart and a funny bone does. The accountant filled the pauses occasioned by the limitation of NPE’s lungs with encouraging words.

“I know you have it in you to move into the corner office some day.” “Carve out your niche.” “Don’t give a quarter. Guard your turf with zeal.” “The future is yours.”

“Thanks old man, I know you will be. I was working hard for it and have performed beyond anybody’s expectations. Still don’t know how long it will take to get fast-tracked onto the road ahead that is promising and paved with gold. Can see my own cabin, corporate credit card, car with chauffer and conferences overseas. But are they mirage?”. The NPE was slowly slipping.

“Listen. I know you are one of the best performers and the brightest chaps around in this organization, and god knows if all goes well; in little over a couple of years; instead of me passing your vouchers you will be signing my salary cheques.” “But…” the accountant paused for the bearer to replenish his glass with a large.

“But what? Do you think I will not make it?” ejaculated the NPE.

“NO”. Like numbers and revenues the accountant, with equal dexterity, can mask the ugly underbelly and paint a beautiful picture. But there are occasions when he too can call a spade a spade. And this was one such occasion.

“And I will tell you why. Tell me, what do you think will get you promoted continuously and takes you to the high seat of power”?

“Multi-tasking. Ability to raise flag at the appropriate time. And provide solutions before others even identify the problems… “, the NPE was like a man in possessed, banging his half-full glass (for he was an optimist albeit a naïve one) on the table. He could have gone on and on, for he was a man who never bunked a lecture at the business school or never failed to memorize key quotations from any self-help or career building guides.

The accountant knew that and moved in quickly.

“That’s precisely what the donkey thought before he got a good hiding and was kicked out by his master who he served loyally all his life”, said the accountant.

“What donkey? What rot is that all about, old man?” NPE was confused and slightly worked up.

“Okay, I know you dig management consultancies, self-help gurus, chicken soups with moving cheese, matrixes and clever acronyms than anything else. So at the cost of the readers not following the 6 other stories beyond this one; for they will now know the formula for attaining power; I will proceed to lay it out.” He took a paper napkin and scribbled legibly (for accountants like doctors are not known for their calligraphic skills) to put down the following equation.

Power = Position + Positioning + Proximity + Personality + Perceptions + PR + Performance

“I don’t understand. I thought…” mumbled the NPE. But he never got to complete as the accountant interjected “I know you won’t. So here munch on these peanuts and listen to the story”. Downing the contents of the half-empty (for the accountant sees things for what they are) glass and acknowledging the bearer who moved in quickly brining in reinforcements, proceeded the accountant

The Donkey who cared not for Position and put purchase on Performance

“In a small listless village, a fair representative of both listless and listed villages that dot our vast landscape lived a Dog and a Donkey working for a washerman running a profitable venture. The Donkey used to wake up early in the morning, nibble fast on little bit of grass leftover from the previous night to get ready to carry the dirty load. The Dog on the other hand, though wide awake used to rest its head on the crossed fore-legs, close its eyes and lie down till the washerman came in and patted on its back, played with its ears, left a freshly made roti and a bowl of milk in front of it, commending it for the long hours it has put in during the night and the successful outcome of its vigil (for his money and valuables were safe in the morning when checked).

At mid-day, the Donkey used to pass its time eating the grass that grew on the banks of the river, alone with no company, while the Dog relished its rice and soup with the washerman household. And retire under the shady neem tree in the backyard, nibbling on a bone left to it by the doting daughter of the washerman. A completely sedentary and envious lifestyle. The most it used to do under the head of work is wag its tail to shoo the free-riding flies away.

During evening, when the washerman came home it used to lunge onto him, sniff and lick at his feet (for the Dog though shameless was never short on the shrewdness department). The Donkey used to amble in carrying in the washed load and its own fodder, never a murmur or a word of complaint. Subjugation personified.

Dinner was no different, with the Dog fed to the gills (it may or may not have them, but you get the picture) for it had a long and arduous and most critical part to play; and the Donkey ploughed through the forage before thinking of the day ahead. It thought the perseverance it showed and the performance its putting on will reward it in the long run. It was happy doing its bit for god, countrymen and its master. It reveled in the knowledge that its diligence is what keeps the people close to each other and the world peace prevailing. For who would make an attempt to come within an arm’s distance of a smelly clothed individual; or not make an attempt to pick on others regarding whose linen is dirtier?

But for him, the whole world would have been one big bad chaotic place. Thus thought the good Donkey.

The Dog along with its fellow dogs had formed a network, wherein only of them had to keep vigil across the village every night and raise a robust woof when anything unusual is spotted. This would raise the other dogs who will chip in joining the chorus; driving the unusual thing away and thereby meet their K-9 Performance Indicator. This usually helped the Dog catch more than its 40 winks during which it hated to be disturbed at all. On the day of its vigil, though, it condescended to spend time faffing around with Donkey. The faffing was mostly centered around how the master can do more to it for all the feet-licking it does day in and day out.

The Donkey though surprised, for it thought the Dog had it all, lent a patient ear mostly. On occasions, it used to berate the Dog for not doing its duty diligently, for instead of engaging in long conversations such as this, it should be doing couple of rounds around the house. It (the Donkey) said it was thankful to the boss for letting it do its job without interfering and giving it timely fodder.

One day, on its vigil, while engaging in such a conversation, the Dog failed to notice an unusual movement near the boss’s house. The Donkey though caught it from the corner of its eye and alerted the dog to do the needful. The Dog said its none of the Donkey’s business to tell him what he should be doing, and anyway it’s much better catching the thief with the loot, red-handed than scaring the thief off before he did any noticeable damage when the boss wont be any wiser to the incursion. The logic didn’t go down well with the Donkey, as it believed that prevention is better than detention.

It rose to the occasion and let go in full throat that which its ilk is better known of and derided for. Brayed aloud. The thief ofcourse jumped a few inches higher in the air, for it was a new alert system that he came across, but nonetheless made good on foot, in the process upsetting the well lined flowerpots of the house. The whole household got up, the washerman out with the stoutest of staffs in hand, bracing both for an intrusion if any, for the Dog didn’t bark, or giving the Donkey its due, for it brayed and disturbed his golden dream.

The Donkey, seeing the boss come from inside, ran towards him for a pat or hug or a piece of roti; for one doesn’t know what goodies a good and honest performance brings in. Drinking in one sweeping glance, the upset flowerpots, the nothing-wrong-with-the-world lackadaisical demeanor of the Dog; the boss could deduce that the Donkey went out of its line.

THADOOM. Came down the staff on the hapless and unsuspecting lowly creature.

“BRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAYYYYY” a gut-wrenching cry reverberated through the air, making even the stoutest-at-heart Dog to wince a wee bit.

A wise owl perched on top of the neem tree, witness to the whole; clucked his tongue and thought aloud “Multi-tasking blah. Raising flag blah blah. If only we all render what our respective positions demand from us than being slaves to conscience..”

——————-X——————-X——————-X——————-X——————-

“I get it, so you will suffer if you try doing good for the boss”, said the now sober NPE.

“You got it from the Donkey’s perspective, which is good but not great. Look at it from the Dog’s POV if you want to be on the winning and powerful end of the bargain”.

“mm…there’s something in that”, admitted the NPE.

“Hang on, here comes our patron saint of spirits to serve another round of salvation”. “By the end of it all my boy, you will be a true man(ager)” adjusting himself comfortably in the chair, the accountant proceeded to enlighten him with another story.

THIS CV is of no use – What I learnt from the exiled noble beings

I am sure the sentiment is shared by many who had disproportionately higher share of chequeredness in their respective careers. And questions abound. What gets one closer to the seat of power? And the fruits it has to offer. How come many a consistent hoppings we do that could teach the champion kangaroo a trick or two, singularly fail us to take us further and higher?

To begin with the answer is darn simple. Its made complex by know-alls or know-nothings or know-halves or know-half-but-don’t-know-which-halfs. That means virtually all of us. Only a select few (one-in-a-million, according to some researches) know what it is and benefit from it. Despair not for now the secret will be revealed. Get ready to enjoy the alluring and elusive fruits of power, which till now, we only fantasized about. From the story of 5 brothers who lost everything in a bitter power struggle with their conniving cousins and had to spend 12 years in exile and 1 year in anonymity to learn the tricks of the trade to have a go at the throne. (You, oh lucky reader, need only the next 60 seconds to know what it takes).

For a good 11 years 11 months (to the 11^th hour that is) the brothers kept shaking their heads in disbelief wondering what went wrong for such fate to befell them. Instead of enjoying the fruits of power they are on foot wandering in forests teeming with wild beasts, poisonous ivies, long days, dark nights and meandering thorny paths.

“What have we done wrong? We had everything going for us. We are the good ones. Lived by book almost and asked for what rightfully belonged to us. We are blessed by elders. Seen as a beacon of hope by our subjects. We were loved almost universally. Yet….”

Words failed them and they continued their journey part lamenting their fate and part taking in the beauty of nature, which otherwise the trappings of a life happily lived in palaces amongst seemingly well-wishers deprived them of. (Ah, the “in-between jobs” time)

While ruing thus and traveling further one day they came across a tree with one fruit on it. It looked like a fruit for gods, and indeed it was, which they didn’t know at that time. Draupadi, their illustrious wife, feeling hungry by the long walk, said “I want it”.

Zip.

Her wish was their command and in a second the fruit made its way into her hand. She was on the verge of biting it.

Zwang.

Krishna, their mentor materialized there.

“Stop” he said. “This fruit belongs to Durvasa, the angry saint. He alone decides who he wants to give it to, and any ignoramus trying to savor it without his consent or know will get to know what living hell means”. “Put it back. Else you will have to face his wrath, for he is known to be short tempered.”

“How?” cried all in unison. “How on earth can we put the plucked thing back?”

Smiled Krishna.

“Don’t worry. It needs to be offered the accumulated karma of your good deeds. Powered by that, this fruit here will go back and attach itself to the tree. All will be well.”

So first comes Draupadi, and offers her good karma, a result of her Chastity.

Zoom.

The fruit raises few feet in the air, well short of the branch its plucked from. Shocked she looks at her husbands! “Oh, I thought the power of my karma alone will do the trick! Alas, such is not the case” The eldest brother Dharmaraja, epitome of Integrity, steps forward. Offers his bit and lo, the fruit still is far from being happily hanging in its original un-plucked state. One by one the remaining 4 brothers, each bringing to the table Strength, Valor, Humility and Trust do their bit, but the sum total of their contribution was still a few feet short. Steps forward Krishna, the wise and guile mentor and offers part of his good karma and the fruit attaches itself to the tree, nothing amiss, everything as before.

“Wow! This is a miracle. How in heavens did that happen?” 6 voices rose in unison above the din of the forest sound FX.

Smiled Krishna.

“Don’t worry; that there is Durvasa making his way to the tree now. We will talk after paying our respects to him”. Durvasa came. Durvasa saw. Durvasa conferred, the fruit unto the 5 brothers and their wife. “I know what happened. But you have collectively made the impossible possible, so you have earned it. Eat it. The effects of it will last on you forever and you will enjoy the benefits of the throne shortly. Everything will work out smoothly henceforth.” Thus speaking the good and soothing words, the short-tempered but benevolent sage vanishes.

Content, with the vision of a good life ahead and the sweet taste of the fruit, the 5 brothers and their wife turn to Krishna their mentor, for enlightenment.

Smiled Krishna.

“Power”, said Krishna seating himself comfortably under the blessed tree, “is mistaken to be an easy prey to only one thing or the other from the following.”

“Trust. Humility. Integrity. Strength. Chastity. Valor. (THIS CV)”

“You need a bit of guile to navigate through to the final course. In its absence everything else falls short of the ultimate goal. All the efforts come to naught. You are on the throes of Kaliyuga. The going will be tougher if you continue in the same naïve belief of THIS CV helping you. The dice will be loaded against every-time and you need to adopt new strategies. Add a dash of stealth; pepper it with practicality and the purpose will be served.”

“I hope the path ahead is clear for you and that you have got your priorities right. Use this time to work on your weaknesses, add to your network, marshal troops and you will see what lies ahead. I as your mentor can see it. Glory be to thee!”

Oh wise reader, the era of Mahabharata has long ended. Kaliyuga has indeed entered. THIS CV is now some 3000+ years past its expiry date. It was once a necessary condition but not sufficient to get you what you desired. Now it’s an invalid anachronism.

So shed that path and tread a new course. Find a mentor. Network. Show stealth and beguile the shrewdest of your peers (or competing cousins). Glory, truly be, to thee.