The Stories We Tell Ourselves

My old man, the aficionado of Chandigarh anecdotes, told us a lot of tales about India when I was young. He completed his degree in Chandigarh, and 30+ years later, he can still paint a vivid picture. I was intrigued. Bollywood, with its grandiose scenes, spontaneous musical interludes, and relentless celebration of life, became my guilty pleasure. Sure, not everyone has the same cinematic taste, but give me those over-the-top dramatizations any day. I'll happily park myself for a solid 2+ hours and revel in the madness. Shah Rukh Khan is my cinematic deity—I practically teeter on the edge of obsession. I've even contemplated learning Hindi just to decode the eloquence of King Khan.

Fast forward a few moons, and the universe gifted me the chance to jet off to India. Armed with my rose-tinted mental imagery, nothing could dampen my determination to fall head over heels for the vibrant tapestry my dad had woven with his tales. So, off I went, ready for the Indian adventure!

The moment I landed in Delhi, the sun and humidity decided to stage a full-blown assault on my senses. Now, let me be clear: the sun and I prefer a long-distance friendship. We can like each other, but from a safe distance, please. As for humidity, we're sworn enemies. Yet, even under the blazing sun, I clung to my resolve to embrace India. The road beckoned!

I still chuckle when I recall my first taste of Delhi traffic—an orchestra of honks that could rival a rock concert. Honks for everything and anything, and not the genteel variety either. Initially, I questioned my sanity. Maybe my ears had been too long in airplane-induced silence. But, no, it was Delhi's symphony of honks. At one point, I nearly rolled down my window to unleash a verbal tirade on a tailgating cab, only to be met with an equally spine-chilling honk from our own driver. I swallowed the words that stuck in my throat. Surrendering to the well-organized chaos, I decided to meekly savor this noisy spectacle. Hooting as a universal language—here I was, in the midst of chaos, chuckling to myself.

Determination to love India: 1, Sensibilities: 0.

In the days that followed, amidst work commitments, I roamed through the alleys of New Delhi, the charm of Old Delhi, and the spirit of Chennai. People, historical marvels, the weather—everything won me over. Okay, maybe not the weather. But certainly everything else. Did my love affair with Delhi stem from the stories I had ingrained in my psyche? Quite possibly.

Life, in its quirky ways, nudges us into a routine of storytelling—about ourselves, our preferences, our ambitions, and our relationships. We unknowingly morph into the characters of these self-spun tales. The narratives we craft about our identities wield incredible influence.

As a manager leading a group of people who are uniquely talented, I struggled with impatience in my leadership journey. Transitioning from a task-centric role to one overseeing people wasn't a walk in the park. I came across the butterfly story —an anecdote that echoes the virtue of patience. A man came across a butterfly cocoon. He saw a small hole and how the butterfly struggled to get through the hole. He went away and came back. The butterfly was still struggling. He felt sorry for it, wondering how long it would take to break free. He went away again and came back. To his dismay, the butterfly was still struggling and looked like it was about to give up. So he went and took a pair of scissors and cut through the cocoon. The butterfly came out easily, but to his horror, the butterfly had an engorged body and withered wings. The man, in his haste to help, did not realize that the struggle to get through the hole in the cocoon served to force the fluid from the butterfly’s body to it’s wings so it should form and fly as it should. Patience, waiting, and giving people room to navigate their struggles—there's profound meaning in these elements. I frequently revisit this tale, especially during moments of wavering, and witnessing people evolve into magnificent butterflies over time has become a profound blessing.

This got me ruminating on leadership and its essence. Simon Sinek, in one of his videos , dropped this gem: "Leadership is not about being in charge; it's about taking care of those in our charge." Shifting this mindset takes time for new leaders. Initially, the focus might linger on the job, results, and outcomes rather than the individuals in the trenches. But, take it from me, when you empower your people, the results flow organically.

Leadership is not about being in charge; it's about taking care of those in our charge.

We become the stories we tell ourselves.

As we bid adieu to 2023, I challenge you to reflect on the stories that shaped you, both positively and negatively. Then, as the curtain rises in 2024, spin tales that don't confine you but, instead, unlock the latent potential within. Embrace the storyteller within, for therein lies the power to shape your narrative. I'm certainly ready for round 2 of India.