The final truth

One day, out of the blue, many years ago, my late father called me. Unusually, he had a paper in his hand with many numbers written. It transpired that these were details of his deposits and investments. He then told me in his wry fashion " I am not immortal". Due to this realisation, he had arranged everything so neatly that after his passing, his descendants had no problem at all in the transfer.

Death to me is the ultimate certainty and no, I am not being morbid. My reflection is more on the futility of many of us who think that we are like Amaron batteries - we feel we will go on and on. We try to acquire more and more, we get more and more tense about less and less, we get offended at trifles .. in the process, we forget how to live. I am most certainly not advocating a minimalist Spartan existence. One does need creature comforts and the wherewithal to obtain these, but one also needs to draw a line somewhere. Read on to get a glimpse of what I think what happens when greed goes overboard. 

One of the subjects I used to teach for post-graduate management students was Business Ethics and Corporate Governance. The name of the subject itself usually elicits groans and yawns and it is a real challenge for a teacher to bring this rather dry course to life. Fortunately or unfortunately, the corporate world across the globe is replete with dramatic examples of malfeasance and bad governance and these stories gave me examples galore to add weight to my sessions. The level of human greed which one came across in these incidents was mind-boggling though I did of course take efforts to highlight examples of good corporate citizenship too to ensure that the aberrations were seen as just that and not as the norm.

Assuming for a moment that you follow my advice and do draw the line, what next ? Think of what happens when a loved one departs this world. The minute the body is consigned to the flames, only memories remain and the number of years lived by that person goes 'poof' . That is the final truth.

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The accidental teacher

About four decades ago, after finishing my PG in Management, I was selling bicycles for a living. One day, I got a summons from the CEO's office. A call from this rarefied level generally did not portend good tidings and I went up fearing the worst. Reassuringly, the meeting went off quite smoothly and all that the Big Chief wanted was a report of impressions formed by me after a recent business tour. The interesting part was that, during the conversation, he told me in some context
" You will make a good teacher". We both smiled and that was that.

The funny coincidence was that in the late 1990s, when I was looking to get second wind into my career, an opportunity to teach at a B-school actually presented itself, reminding me of what the big boss had told me then. I took the chance with a bit of trepidation, slowly eased myself into this profession and almost before I realised it, another two decades flew away. I enjoyed myself so much  that today, I think of myself as much more of a teacher than a sales professional.

What I loved first about this line was the pressure but without any of the tension of a corporate pressure cooker. The biggest challenge was one of communication. After going through the syllabus of the subject to be taught and doing all the requisite reading, converting this to bite-sized nuggets for absorption by students was something I waded into with gusto. I loved the preparation part of a course as much as the actual delivery and when this worked in class, it gave such a glow of satisfaction. As I gained confidence, I started handling even 'dry' subjects like Business Ethics.

Much more important was the input I felt I could give students on preparing themselves for a corporate career, based on my own experience. I obviously had to make sure there weren't too many of the 'when I was your age' stories. Especially at the last phase of this career, I was based at a large campus where the programme was fully residential. Many of the students here used to drop in to my cabin and depending on how free I was, I would lend my ears to share their happiness and hear their worries and anxiety. In the process I formed some really good friends. Many of these relationships have continued much after these people went into industry.

The nicest part of this profession is seeing young people evolve over two years almost before one's eyes - it is a nice boost to one's sense of well-being when one realises that one has contributed to this process, perhaps even without the students' awareness. One of my colleagues in teaching used to tell students that the only two people who would never be jealous of their achievements would be the mother and the teacher. This is so true - even today, when I hear of a former student doing well, the feeling is priceless. This is perhaps the best part of this profession.

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