Humility, Legacy, and a Dash of Tata: Reflections on Humble Leadership

I’ll be the first to admit, humility was not always my strong suit. I spent years in the corporate trenches -- as well as nearly two decades on Wall Street, where humility was as useful as a chocolate teapot. Out there, it was more about who could shout the loudest, strike the boldest pose, and occasionally knock over a fellow climber or two, purely by accident, of course.

So, you can imagine my surprise when I found myself in a room with Ratan Tata. It wasn’t the skyscrapers of Manhattan anymore but the bustling streets of Mumbai. I had the pleasure of meeting him a couple of times—just brief exchanges, nothing to shout from the rooftops. And yet, in those short moments, I found myself utterly staggered by the man’s humility. If I’d expected him to stroll into the room with trumpets blaring and crowds parting, I was sorely mistaken. He was, in fact, the sort of chap who might walk in, smile, and leave you wondering if the great Ratan Tata had really just passed through.

Here was a man with the kind of empire that would make lesser mortals rub their hands together in gleeful anticipation of the next headline. Yet, he didn’t bother with any of that. Instead, he seemed perfectly content to let the empire hum along in the background while he quietly got on with the business of being, well, human. And for someone like me, who had come from a world where brashness was often mistaken for brilliance, this was quite a revelation.

A Tale of Two Personas

In the world I came from, success meant making sure everyone knew just how successful you were. Wall Street wasn’t exactly the breeding ground for modesty. You wore your accomplishments on your sleeve, often with the subtlety of a neon sign. I had perfected that art, I’m sure. After all, isn’t that what success was supposed to look like? But seeing Ratan Tata—a man who could have out-neoned all of us combined—carry himself with such quiet grace made me question everything I thought I knew about leadership.

I remember thinking, “Is this how it’s done?” The man had Jaguar, Land Rover, and half of the world at his disposal, and here I was, struggling to figure out why anyone so successful would be so... unassuming. Wasn’t success supposed to come with a certain swagger? Apparently not. Tata’s presence was enough to make you feel like perhaps, just perhaps, humility wasn’t the flaw I’d been led to believe it was.

It’s a humbling realization—pun entirely intended—when you meet someone whose greatness doesn’t need to be announced. It’s even more humbling when you realize that for years you’d been running around, metaphorically (and perhaps occasionally literally), with your elbows out, trying to assert your presence in every room. All while the true power players were sitting quietly, observing, and letting their actions speak for themselves. Ratan Tata did that effortlessly.

The Great Legacy Debate

Now, everyone knows Tata’s contributions to industry are the stuff of legend. His deals, acquisitions, and philanthropy have filled more column inches than I could ever hope to. But what truly stands out about him isn’t the empire he built—it’s the way he led it. He led with integrity, with humility, and without the constant need for fanfare. And that’s what got me thinking about legacy.

I’ll be honest: for a long time, I was far more concerned with building a resume than a legacy. On Wall Street, they don’t hand out awards for “Nicest Guy in the Room.” It’s all about the next deal, the next title, the next step up the ladder. But as I watched Tata’s career from afar—and those very brief encounters up close—I began to realize that real legacy has little to do with how many deals you close or how impressive your portfolio is. It’s about the people you touch along the way, the impact you leave behind, and, dare I say it, the humility with which you approach it all.

Mr. Tata’s legacy -- and his eminent grandfather, JRD Tata's -- won’t just be remembered in boardrooms. It will live on in the lives of those he lifted up, in the industries he transformed, and in the humility he showed despite having every reason not to.

Lessons in Humility (Which, as It Turns Out, Is a Thing)

And so, I find myself reflecting on humility—this pesky virtue that had eluded me for much of my career. Ratan Tata’s life serves as a reminder that perhaps the greatest leaders aren’t the ones who trumpet their success but the ones who quietly go about their work, lifting others as they rise. It’s the kind of lesson that sneaks up on you when you least expect it, and suddenly, you’re left pondering how you could have missed something so simple for so long.

Now, I’m not going to pretend that I’ve suddenly mastered the art of humility. That would be far too neat a narrative. But what I can say is that I’m working on it. I have been working on it. Life's brutal lessons along with untimely lost lives of near and dear ones, not to mention 'failed' startups will do that to you -- to tell you that you are still not learning to be humble. To yourself, to your relationships and to those you serve.

And perhaps that’s the best any of us can do—take note from those who have walked the path before us and strive to leave behind something worth remembering.

So, as we bid farewell to a man who, in every sense, redefined what it means to lead, I find myself asking: What kind of legacy are we working toward? Are we focused on the accolades, or are we looking to make an impact that goes beyond the walls of our office and home? It’s a question worth pondering, and one I plan to keep in mind as I navigate the road ahead—quietly, of course.