The Quiet Leader

"I define servant leadership as a person's dedication to helping others be their best selves at home, work, and in their community. Anyone can serve--and lead--from any position or role in a family, workplace, or community."

-S. Chris Edmonds, in his book, “The Culture Engine”

Beginnings

“Beep, beep, beep …,” the noisy heart-rate monitor’s constant sound only caused me to fixate harder on the floor beneath my feet. No way was I going to turn to my left and look over at Dr. Greenspan’s scalpel-laden hands. I side-eyed my wife, quickly, noticing the sweat pooling on her forehead. “It’s almost over,” I mumbled. A few more moments ticked by, the beeping continuing to pound in my forehead. The flurry of activity in the operating theatre was quiet, but intentional. The masked nurses and doctors were experts in their art, but as a first-time about-to-be father, I reserved my quiet right to my nervousness. The baby was breached, my wife’s Caesarean-section operation pre-scheduled, and I was looking for comfort by trying to meld into the floor, because risks that we had been warned about pre-procedure, felt too real. “Yup, the umbilical cord is wrapped around his neck twice,” Dr. Greenspan said. I looked up, nervousness quickly turning to worry. Dr. Greenspan worked deftly, unwinding the cord from around the baby’s neck. It seemed the cord was separating the baby’s blue face from his bright pink body. A quick snip-off the cord and he flipped the baby over, a short tap on the baby’s back, and a small, muffled cry filled my ears. Now, I did turn to my left, and kissed my wife. “He’s okay,” I said. Dr. Greenspan quickly handed the baby to Dr. Livingston, who was standing with a cart outfitted with an oxygen tank and mask. Not a second had passed, as Dr. Livingston was trying to position the baby in the cart and wrestle the mask on, the baby decided to poop. Dr. Livingston let out a laugh of delight. “He’s going to be more than okay,” she said to me. I let the relief wash over me. Sahil, our first-born, and our little hero was here.

Sahil and I had to bond instantly. My wife didn’t take well to the anesthesia administered to her for the procedure, and slipped in and out of consciousness for eighteen hours. Consequently, she was unable to nurse Sahil. The kind hospital nurse attending to us in the maternity ward handed me a bottle with infant formula, and Sahil and I hung out. He wrapped his little fist around my thumb as I admired his tiny wrinkled face and looked intently into his eyes. In them, I found a quiet determination, a borderline stubbornness, that I would soon come to experience over and over again. “Sahil,” a word that commonly appears in ghazals and Hindi songs, means “guide” or “shore.” I had always interpreted “Sahil” more poetically to mean “salvation.” I remember thinking that night as I looked at Sahil, that I was holding my salvation in my own hands.

Paws

Weekends, when Sahil was around three, were shopping time for our family, since the weekdays were taken over by work. My wife and I would bundle Sahil’s baby brother, Ishan, into our Graco baby stroller and off we went to Target, Sahil happily waddling by our side. On one such summer Saturday, Sahil noticed a four-month old tan labrador-mix puppy up for adoption as we walked outside a Petsmart adjoining the Target. Sahil insisted that we had to visit the puppy. This puppy was different from the other puppies around him. He was quietly sitting in the corner of his crate, ignoring the cacophony and the yipping all around him, staring distantly into nowhere. Sahil walked up to the crate and started talking to this puppy in his gentle voice. I asked the adoption counselor if the puppy could be let out of the crate, and the counselor gladly complied. We all settled on the hot pavement, and the puppy decided to climb into my lap, butt half in, half out. I saw that same instant bond that I had experienced with Sahil after his birth, develop between Sahil and this puppy as Sahil played with the puppy in my lap. 

The adoption counselor asked us if we could imagine adopting this puppy. My wife and I had no plans to adopt a puppy given how young Sahil and his brother were. Sahil asked the counselor for the puppy’s name. When the counselor said he didn’t have one, Sahil instantly replied “We’ll call him Paws,” while admiring the huge paws the puppy had. We dissuaded Sahil from thinking about bringing the puppy home with us, telling the counselor that we’d sleep on the idea and call her back. Sahil, bless his gentle soul, loved to play with the puppies, but he had never asked to bring one home. Once we got back home, Sahil and his brother took their afternoon nap. Sahil awoke from that nap, and announced in his quiet, determined voice, “Well, we slept on it, now we have to go get Paws.” My wife and I knew, then, that we had to prepare to bring a puppy home. We explained to Sahil that we needed pet supplies before we could bring a dog home, so he quietly demanded that we get back in the car and off we went to Petsmart, again, to get stocked up. Paws came home the next morning, and proceeded to quietly shred through his new dog toys and dog beds. Sahil was none-too-bothered, he had brought his best friend home. Both, the dog and his boy, would enjoy years of quiet understanding and companionship in the years to come.

Quiet Leadership

“Sahil, you should really consider signing up as a cadet in your Air Force program, it will teach you responsibility, discipline and leadership” said my brother-in-law to a thirteen-year old Sahil as they sat at the dinner table. An impromptu uncle-nephew counseling session was in progress. Both my brothers-in-law, graduates of the Canadian Air Cadet program, understood the value of the leadership taught in the program. Our boys look up to their uncles as role models. My wife had asked her brother to encourage Sahil to consider the program, as she saw first hand how the program had influenced her own siblings. Sahil listened carefully, but begrudgingly, as his uncle offered advice. Sahil was scared that the Air Cadet program, called the Civil Air Patrol (CAP) in the United States, would require him to step out of his carefully self-constructed shell. Quiet and introverted, Sahil preferred reading books late, very late, into the night. He preferred silence to conversation. Being a meticulous perfectionist, Sahil grumbled about having to take on one more activity that he’d have to work extra-hard to succeed in, Then, he mumbled acquiescence to his uncle, he’d give CAP a shot. He’d try to crack open his shell, but no promises.

One year into CAP, an important milestone was to attend a week-long encampment, where a crash course in leadership and discipline was awaiting Sahil. Lt. Col. David Panzera of the United States Air Force, leading the encampment, was a loud, intimidating and boisterous personality, who announced to the incoming cadets that he, and therefore they, should only “fear God and Mothers.” As Cadet Airman First Class Swali stood in line to be signed in, and have his belongings checked for contraband, I looked with wonder as my quiet child was slowly coming into himself. He was still quiet, but with a determined confidence that he was going to have a good week. He had thoroughly prepared, pouring through the CAP study guides and keenly listening to other Cadets who had attended earlier encampments. He was ready for this week of trials and challenges.

The week ended up being spectacular, and life-changing for Sahil. He found that the encampment leaders, Lt. Col. Panzera and Captain Ishfaque Kamal were generous with their time to help develop cadets. Sahil earned a challenge coin for excellence, being the only cadet amongst two hundred and fifty to point out an error in the General Knowledge packet being used by all attendees. With this newfound credibility, he was able to build a rapport with the leaders and ask of both, “How can I be a leader, if I am not loud and if I am not good at leading from the front?” Both men schooled Sahil in servant and quiet leadership, reminding Sahil that “bold and brash” leadership doesn’t always work. Captain Kamal shared a growing-up story with Sahil that has stuck with him. When Kamal grew up, he’d walk down a street with a dog on each side. The dog on the left barked every time Kamal walked by, the one on the right was always quiet. Kamal learned how to ignore the dog on the left, and the one day that the dog on the right did bark, it stopped Kamal in his tracks. “Don’t bark all the time,” Kamal taught Sahil, “be a gentle but firm leader.” Sahil learned that his quiet and determined nature was well suited for leadership, he just had to learn how to be an effective leader.

Once back from encampment, Sahil requested a trip to our library, where he is a loyal patron. This time Sahil’s haul of books this time wasn’t fiction books like he normally chose, he selected books about leadership. Sahil returned home with books by Generals Stanley McChrystal and Colin Powell. And, two books by Simon Sinek called “Start With WHY” and “Leaders Eat Last.” Sahil dug in. We’d find him reading in bed until 2 and 3 a.m. in the mornings, having to take the books from him and tuck him into bed. When he was done with “Start With WHY,” he handed the book to me with, “Dad, you need to read this.” I quietly put the book by my bedside, and returned it back to the library on the due date, never even once having opened the cover. So, the following month, Sahil went to the library to get his next haul of leadership books, and “Start With WHY” reappeared by my bedside. The book went back to the library, after it was renewed a few times, but still unread. This journey back and forth to the library went on for four years. “You need to read this, Dad, you need to state your purpose,” Sahil reminded me each time the book came back from the library. I finally opened the front cover after we all went into lockdown for the pandemic. And when I did read the book, it enriched my life in a way I never expected.

Pandemic

“I had worked so hard for this,” he said, Sahil’s voice quivering, eyes brimming with tears. Insult was being added to injury as the darkness of Saturday, March 14th, 2020, blanketed us with a dusk that is forever going to be etched in my memory. Sahil’s school district had made the call to go all virtual the evening prior, crushing Sahil’s expectations for a strong finish to his junior year. And now, he was staring at a disappointing email telling him that his August trip to Australia, where he was to serve as Cadet Ambassador from the United States as part of the International Air Cadet Exchange was being cancelled due to the pandemic. He had worked hard, like he always had to, to be selected for the opportunity. He had spent hours with applications, essays and rigorous interviews. All my wife and I could muster was to say that Sahil wasn’t the only one facing the disruption, the entire world was shifting far too quickly for any one of us to fully understand. We asked him if there was anything he could do to change his disappointment into something more positive. 

After quietly pondering the question for a few minutes he said, “I heard on the news that nursing homes are not going to be allowed to have visitors and the residents will be lonely. I’d like to energize everyone to write to residents that are isolated and doctors and nurses who are working so hard to combat this pandemic.” 

Sahil named this initiative #WriteToAppreciate and asked me to video him delivering a Facebook message to kick off this initiative. I was amazed. My son, who hated being in any videos, was asking me to actually video him. We shuffled out to the back yard as the dusk intensified, I stood about six feet away and hit the red record button on my wife’s upright iPhone and nodded to Sahil to begin. He spoke for two minutes and twenty-six seconds making his plea for everyone to write a letter. My wife uploaded the video to her Facebook feed and by the following morning, Sahil’s video had received three thousand views and had been shared multiple times. #WriteToAppreciate took off, with Sahil at the helm creating a website and setting up rules of communication with hospitals and senior living communities. By Monday morning, Facebook was up to sixteen thousand views, and Sahil received a call for a local TV interview. My son, the quiet one, shed his shyness completely and stood up to face his moment. On Tuesday, March 17th, on my LinkedIn profile he posted an article, in which he declared that this time with the pandemic, “is also a time for us to learn, grow, and come out stronger as a community … I believe that we may instead turn our energy to do good and make people smile … I would like us to change our disappointment in the circumstances into gratitude for others and solidarity for each other.”

I asked Sahil what moved him to initiate #WriteToAppreciate. In his typical quiet and determined manner, he responded, “I’m just trying to live my WHY.”

“And, what is your WHY?” I inquired.

“To connect with each other, so that we are inspired to be better versions of ourselves,” he responded. 

That was it, Sahil was living his purpose, and giving service. The leadership that purpose and service required, was best served quietly. That evening, I started reading, “Start With WHY.”

Gratitude

Sahil is my son, so it is natural for me to be biased and agree with his points of view. I have loved Sahil deeply from the moment I saw his first ultrasound image, very early in my wife’s pregnancy. I see so much of myself in Sahil every day, that I almost feel I don’t need a mirror. From Sahil I have learned that to be a quiet, servant leader, I have to work on cracking my own shell every day, and live my purpose. Leadership is not a skill, it is a process of wanting to know WHY you want to lead. Leadership is the determination to grow every day through vulnerability and by putting yourself out there even when it is not natural for you to do so. Leadership is doing the right thing for the people around you, whether you may know them or not, so that we may all be inspired to improve ourselves.

Sahil’s bedroom floor is, as always, littered with books by authors that he admires. Military leaders like Generals Stanley McChrystal, Colin Powell and James Mattis are a staple go-to for multiple reads. More contemporary thought leaders, researchers and storytellers like Susan Cain, Simon Sinek, Adam Grant, Kristen Hadeed, Dr. Vivek Murthy, Malcolm Gladwell and Brené Brown inform and influence his leadership style as he continues to grow. The picture I have posted with this essay shows you the books I picked up from Sahil’s bedroom floor this morning. It is not uncommon for Sahil to be reading three or four of these books collectively on any single night. I am grateful that he has such a thirst to learn.

Sahil, please accept this essay as my gratitude for taking an evening walk with me every day during this pandemic. Thank you for sharing and listening to podcasts with me as we walk. Rich, textured, meaningful podcasts like “The Next Big Idea,” “A Bit Of Optimism,” “Unlocking Us,” and “Clear+Vivid.” During these walks you’ve enlightened me with your leadership ideas built around making yourself, ourselves and our community better. You have shared well informed plans for improving our family, your CAP squadron, your school and our world. Thank you for inspiring me to discover my WHY, a journey I should have arguably taken years ago, per your suggestion. Thank you for having the courage to initiate #WriteToAppreciate, which has seen hundreds of notes of optimism in multiple languages, from all over the United States and the world, go to many healthcare professionals battling COVID-19 at hospitals and to hundreds of residents still isolated at senior living communities. Thank you for being Paws’s best friend, fifteen years on. Keep redefining the term “voracious reader.” And finally, be relentless in always doing the right thing, being in service of others and leading with your heart. You make me proud. You are my salvation.

You can find out more about Sahil, who turns eighteen in ten days, and #WriteToAppreciate at writetoappreciate.wordpress.com