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Super Century – An Excerpt

What is it about the Indian psyche that makes us so incapable of fulfilling our promise as a nation? Why are we so averse to risk, resigned to mediocrity and mired in a collective lack of confidence? India has so much potential but seems forever stuck on the brink of actualization, unable to muster the political will and geo-economic force to clear the final bar. The stakes are higher than ever, and India’s moment is now.

In Super Century, Raghav Bahl offers a cogent and candid assessment of how we got where we are and a clear blueprint of what we need to do, both at home and in the world, to fulfil our promise going forward.

Here is an excerpt from the book:

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The dawn of the twenty-first century brought new geopolitical opportunities for India and the other fast-developing nations christened the BRICS (Brazil, Russia, India, China and South Africa). In the first decade of the new millennium, the twin catastrophes of 9/11 and the 2008 financial meltdown deeply shook America, weakening its position as the world’s sole superpower. With the US suddenly vulnerable and preoccupied with wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, the BRICS— especially China—stepped into the void, asserting themselves in the economic and diplomatic spheres. They got a boost from the forces of globalization, which levelled the playing field and transformed the very nature of geopolitical power. No longer could a strong, successful state impose global influence solely through its military; the new world order valued economic prowess—leveraged by citizens, businesses and nongovernmental agencies through trade, aid and culture capital—above all else. For India and other rapidly rising countries with huge populations and untapped potential, that shift opened up a world of new possibilities.

As India’s economy grew, Delhi gradually adopted a larger and more defined role in global affairs, increasingly willing to take a principled stand on matters of national—and international—importance. Still, we struggled to win the world’s respect, denied a seat on the United Nations (UN) Security Council and membership in the Group of Seven (G7)—even though India’s economy is bigger than both Canada’s and Italy’s, which do belong to the G7. Such snubs only feed our national insecurity and spur greater defensiveness.

When Modi took office in 2014, he enthusiastically advanced the narrative of India as a leading power, and Indian confidence swelled. The government abandoned all vestiges of non-alignment and introduced an expansive new policy of multi-alignment, centred on increasing engagement—bilateral as well as multilateral and with friends as well as rivals. Delhi revitalized its partnership with Washington, stepped up its leadership in Southeast Asia and artfully managed China through a balance of engagement and containment. Modi took a more assertive stand against Pakistan, retaliating against persistent small-scale crossborder attacks with open and unapologetic surgical strikes, rather than employing covert actions while pretending to ‘turn the other cheek’. And he gave maritime strategy top priority, particularly in the Indian Ocean, with a focus on new security agreements and greater cooperation with India’s democratic neighbours; in 2015, Delhi agreed to build its first overseas military base in the Seychelles.

Modi himself relished the role of traveller-in-chief. In his first three and a half years in office, he visited forty-nine countries— including the US four times—and met with a dizzying array of heads of state, foreign dignitaries and business leaders, among others. His tireless jet-setting may have helped elevate India’s standing abroad, but it earned him ridicule at home, with critics mocking his jovial banter and awkward bear hugs. In retrospect, all that time on the road might have been better spent overhauling India’s economic policy. But Modi was determined to demonstrate his commitment to multi-alignment; in 2016, he became the first Indian leader since 1979 to skip the annual Non-Aligned Movement summit.

In keeping with this mandate, India has asserted itself diplomatically in sophisticated new ways. While continuing to seek entry into traditional Western-dominated international organizations such as the Nuclear Suppliers Group, Asia-Pacific Economic Cooperation (APEC) and the UN Security Council—as well as gain commensurate influence with the West in bodies such as the World Bank and the IMF—Delhi has also embraced the newer, more nimble BRICS-based alternatives, such as the Asian Infrastructure Investment Bank (AIIB) and the Shanghai Cooperation Organisation. Against all odds, India has become a leader on climate change; after years of complaining that emissions caps were unfair to developing countries, Delhi abruptly changed course at the 2015 Paris Climate talks, with Modi joining France’s then President

François Hollande to create an India-based international solar power alliance. And India has taken more initiative in addressing global crises; when a Saudi attack trapped thousands of foreign nationals in Yemen in 2015, India rushed to the rescue, safely evacuating not just its own citizens but civilians from more than two dozen countries—including the US and Pakistan. Indian troops make up one of the largest national contingents of UN peacekeepers.

Going forward, India must continue to pursue greater global engagement. We must look not just West or East, but North and South too, working with big powers and small to shape the global agenda. We have nothing to lose and everything to gain from participating in such diverse multilateral groupings as the ‘Quad’ talks (with Japan, the US and Australia)—as we did for the first time in 2017—and the RIC (Russia–India–China) annual foreign ministerial meetings. Our country’s sheer size, geography and status as the world’s largest democracy make it essential—if not inevitable—that we assume a bigger leadership role in preserving peace and security, both in Asia and the world. That is especially true given today’s rapidly evolving world order, with the US retreating from its multilateral commitments and China eagerly stepping in to fill the void. With Xi Jinping consolidating power and hot-headed rulers in both Russia and the US, India looks relatively stable, reliable and transparent by comparison. It would be a shame to waste that political capital at a time when the world is starved for decisive, rational leadership.


In Super Century, Raghav Bahl offers a cogent and candid assessment of how we got where we are and a clear blueprint of what we need to do, both at home and in the world, to fulfil our promise going forward.

Chanakya and the Art of War-Excerpt

Each and every one of us wants to become successful. We aim to fight and win in businesses, careers, relationships and, ultimately, in life. However, most of us fail to reach our full potential because of various speed breakers.

In Chanakya and the Art of War, Radhakrishnan Pillai decodes the war secrets of Chanakya as relevant to our personal and professional lives. Be it an army fighting enemy soldiers across the border, the police encountering internal challenges, a politician who wants to win an election, or the common man fighting for survival, Chanakya has a plan for every situation. In the game of life, Chanakya teaches you the winning strategies by putting into practice the Art of War.

Here is an excerpt from the book:


We are constantly at war.

It may be an external war—at our workplaces, our homes, amongst friends, relatives and/or with the government and its systems.

It may be an internal war—inside our heads, with time, with decisions, with what is right and what is wrong.

This is unavoidable when we live in a world full of different people and different views. From the day we are born to the day we die, the external or internal wars will continue. From womb to tomb, we will always face difficult choices.

After a point, everyone realizes that they cannot walk away from such wars. Everyone has to fight—some win, some lose. This is where the difference in our attitude towards the war becomes known. We either accept defeat, or fight on to emerge a winner.

Most of us often compromise and give up. It is a good feeling, although temporary, that there was no bloodshed, that we avoided facing an extreme situation. But later, when we sit down and analyse, we realize that we have actually lost the war in the name of compromise.

The problem continues to exist. Sooner than later, it re-emerges in a different way. The quick-fix of compromise is temporary in nature because we have not fixed the leak. The tooth now requires an extraction. That one rotten apple has already spoilt the whole bunch.

We must make sure we win the war once and for all, rather than be under the illusion that a compromise has closed the issue.

The art of winning a war can be learnt by understanding some rules and then applying them in a practical manner to real-life situations. There are various formulae and techniques. Just because we have never been exposed to a war does not mean the ‘art of war’ is not meant for us.

Swami Tejomayanandaji, the spiritual giant from Chinmaya Mission, says: ‘If you don’t stand up for something, you will fall for everything.’

True that.

Are we all just living a life of compromise and adjustment? Have we become so weak that we cannot even voice our views? Have we forgotten the skills of negotiations and strategy?

Let us not simply allow life to happen to us, let us make life happen according to our wishes. We can decide what we want, and yes, we can emerge a winner. The good news is that there is a method and a system to do this.

It starts with building some basic leadership qualities. Yes, the answer lies here.

Leaders are strong men and women who stood up with conviction, squared their shoulders and faced the challenges that came their way. They were the only hope when others around them felt hopeless. They had nothing else but tremendous will power. World history is never complete without the stories of such great leaders from various nations and backgrounds. Initially, they were ordinary people, but their extraordinary leadership qualities made them shine in situations that were challenging and difficult.

Today, the life stories of such leaders guide us. They inspire us. They bring hope and possibilities. They are the guiding beacons of societies. Their stories must be told to our children. They should be discussed at dinner tables, their books should be read by all, and more research should be done on these great men and women.

Emerging as a winner in war is not just the work of the military and armed forces. It can be part of our basic nature. If every individual is taught the art of war, she/ he will be better equipped to focus on the means and the ends towards which they are working so hard. Winning a war requires many skills. Studying our opponent, understanding human psychology, the right timing and place, keeping motivation levels up—all these and more.

If we master the art of war, we can be successful in every field of life.


Chanakya and the Art of War  draws upon lessons from the great teacher, philosopher and strategist Chanakya’s masterpiece, Arthashastra, which can help us overcome those speed breakers to become innovative and influential and realize our true potential. AVAILABLE NOW.

Queens of Crime – An Excerpt

Dysfunctional families, sexual abuse, sheer greed and sometimes just a skewed moral compass. These are some of the triggers that drove the women captured in these pages to become lawbreakers.

Queens of Crime demonstrates a haunting criminal power that most people do not associate women with. The acts of depravity described in this book will jolt you to the core, ensuring you have sleepless nights for months.

Based on painstaking research, these are raw, violent and seemingly unbelievable but true rendition of India’s women criminals.

Here’s an excerpt from the first chapter!

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The Drug Queen Of Mumbai

Back in Siddharth Nagar, her sons on either side, she wondered which door to knock on first. Four of her five brothers were married and living in their own rooms. She decided to stay in the room of her brother who was serving time in jail for murder. Two of her other brothers had served jail sentences for the same murder, but they were out now. Another brother, who had been arrested initially but had had nothing to do with the crime, had committed suicide in jail in protest.

She knocked on the door, the awkwardness of the moment weighing her down. The door, which led to a small eight-by-eight- foot room, was opened by her brother’s wife, Sumiti.

‘Didi! What a pleasant surprise! Welcome,’ her sister-in law greeted her and pulled the children into an embrace. She had been married for just a few months and didn’t have any children of her own.

Sumiti was quick to realize that something was amiss. After serving them tea, she said, ‘Didi, I’m with you. You don’t have to say anything.’

Her affection brought tears to Shantidevi’s eyes. ‘Thank you.’

The next morning, her sister-in-law left the house early, before Shantidevi woke up. But she had prepared a kadai full of poha for the three of them. Shantidevi woke her children up, helped them bathe outside using the bucket of water that had been kept ready for them, and then all of them ate gratefully.

That evening, Shantidevi asked her sister-in-law, ‘Can I get work here?’

Sumiti nodded. ‘I’ve already spoken to a lady in one of the apartment complexes not far from here. She will give you two hundred rupees for two hours. I’ll get you more houses to work in within a week.’

Shantidevi thanked her again. She was grateful because now she could earn her own money. It was the economic empowerment that she needed.

Soon, Shantidevi was working in three houses and was able to move into her own room in the same chawl. Now that she was earning Rs 600, she could hire a room for Rs 300. Her life was unremarkable for the next year. She was barely able to make ends meet with the meagre salary that

she earned. Her husband never bothered to check if she was all right. He was so heartless, thought Shantidevi, that he didn’t even inquire about the children. The lack of money started to pinch her. But what could an uneducated woman like her do?

One day, something unexpected happened. As she was walking back home along the Worli Sea Face after work, she felt weak and decided to stop for a few minutes at a bus stop nearby to catch her breath. She sat on the metal bench, held the pillar for support and closed her eyes. It is just weakness, she thought, and will pass soon. It did, and after a minute or so when she opened her eyes, she found that a man seated at the far end of the bench was staring at her.

She was about to give him a mouthful to nip whatever he had in his mind in the bud, but the man spoke first, ‘Sister, the world can be cruel. Are you feeling better now?’

His voice calmed her down, as did the fact that he had addressed her as ‘sister’. She nodded and wondered if she should get up and be on her way.

But before she could, the man spoke again, ‘And in Mumbai, there is only one god. Do you know who that is?’

‘Ganpati bappa.’

He laughed and then, his face turning serious, said, ‘No, the real god is money, cash, rupiya.’

The man was crazy, thought Shantidevi.

‘If you have the money, everything is great. But if you don’t have the money, you live the life of an insect in this city.’

A grasshopper flew out of nowhere and landed near his feet. The man raised his Kolhapuri chappal and stamped on it. ‘This guy here had no money, so I ended his life.’

She smiled for the first time. The man was right. She said, ‘But for money you need an education. Insects are uneducated.’

‘Says who? What if I told you that the man who lives on the tenth floor of this building,’ he paused and pointed towards a posh building behind them before continuing, ‘in flat number 1002, is uneducated and yet he is rich.’

‘That’s a lie.’

‘That’s not a lie, sister. I work for that man, which is why I know.’

Shantidevi got up and walked towards him. She sat on a bench three feet from him, saying, ‘How is that even possible, brother? Tell me about him.’

Little did Shantidevi know that this conversation would change her life.


Grab your copy of Queens of Crime today!

An Excerpt from ‘The English Maharani’ on Queen Victoria’s Bicentenary

The English Maharani by Miles Taylor charts the remarkable effects India had on Queen Victoria as well as the pivotal role she played in India. Drawing on official papers and an abundance of poems, songs, diaries and photographs, Taylor challenges the notion that Victoria enjoyed only ceremonial power and that India’s loyalty to her was without popular support. On the contrary, the rule of the queen-empress penetrated deep into Indian life and contributed significantly to the country’s modernisation, both political and economic.

As the world commemorates Queen Victoria’s bicentenary today, here’s an excerpt from the book:


Victoria and Albert collected Indian exhibits of their own in the early 1850s, in the form of adopted royal children. There were two: Princess Gouramma, daughter of Chikka Virarajendra, the Raja of Coorg (Kodagu), and the Maharaja Duleep Singh, who been taken into custody by the British in 1849. Queen Victoria was godmother to many infants, including the African American Sara Bonetta in 1851, and, from New Zealand, the son of a Maori chief, who was baptised Albert Victor Pomare at Buckingham Palace in 1863. Her Indian adopted children received special treatment. Both were welcomed almost as new siblings, their acceptance into the royal home marked by rituals of conversion and depiction. Princess Gouramma arrived at the court via the Basel mission in Mysore. Persuaded by the mission, the Raja of Coorg negotiated with the East India Company to have his daughter, then aged eleven, brought up in England, under the guardianship of the queen. In exchange he hoped for the return of his wealth, seized by the British in 1834. He had already used his children as bargaining chips. Another daughter had married Jung Bahadur, the chief minister of Nepal in 1850. Gouramma was brought over from India by Mrs Drummond, the wife of a retired major in the Bengal cavalry, and came to Buckingham Palace at the beginning of June. As the terms were agreed about her adoption, the queen showed off Gouramma to her own children, and commissioned Franz Winterhalter to paint her portrait. The queen watched the sitting and made her own sketches of the Indian princess. Gouramma also played with the royal children. At the end of the month she was christened in the chapel of Buckingham Palace. The Archbishop of Canterbury performed the service, Lord Hardinge and James Hogg (of the East India Company) were Gouramma’s sponsors and, with all the royal family in attendance, the queen led Gouramma to the font, naming her Victoria. Controversy flared after the baptism, when her father objected that Gouramma’s guardian, Mrs Drummond, was not of sufficiently high social standing and claimed that he had been misled into the wardship of his daughter. As a compromise Gouramma remained looked after by Mrs Drummond but at the homes of various families with connections to the Government of India, such as the Hoggs, the Hardinges and the Woods. Her father’s grudge against his treatment by the Company continued until his death in 1859, whilst Gouramma eventually married a lieutenant colonel, John Campbell, and with him she had a daughter of her own, Edith.Queen Victoria celebrated the little princess Gouramma as a Christian convert from the east. Winterhalter’s portrait shows Gouramma in her Indian clothes: a fitted blouse, pleated sari with a wide embroidered pallu, gathered by a gold belt. She is heavily jewelled with an elaborate headpiece. In her hand she holds a small Bible. The queen also commissioned the sculptor Carlo Marochetti to capture the moment of Gouramma receiving her crucifix, executed in pale marble. The queen then had the bust painted to enhance Gouramma’s facial features. An almost identical pattern was repeated with Duleep Singh. He arrived at Buckingham Palace two years after Gouramma, in the summer of 1854. As an eight- year- old boy, Duleep Singh had been taken into the care of the British forces under Henry Hardinge, who pitied the plight of the ‘beautiful boy’. Dalhousie was far less sympathetic to Duleep Singh, ‘a brat begotten of a bhistu – and no more the son of old Ranjeet than Queen Victoria’. Nonetheless after the surrender of the Punjab in 1849 Dalhousie authorised the boy to be placed into the guardianship of Sir John Login, former surgeon at the British residency in Lucknow, and his wife, Lena. As temporary governor of the citadel at Lahore, Login was in charge of the dispersal of the Lahore treasury. Duleep Singh proved one piece of booty over which he was especially careful. Whilst his mother was exiled to Kathmandu, the young maharaja was taken to Fatehgarh for his safety, and there began his western education with the Logins, converting to Christianity in 1853. The switch of faith surprised many, including Dalhousie. In the meantime, arrangements were made for what portion of the Lahore treasury would be kept for the prince, for the costs of his maintenance in England, with some set aside for the construction of a tomb for Ranjit Singh at Amritsar. By the time Duleep Singh arrived in London, he was a well- groomed fifteen- year- old, with good English and refined manners, as the queen noted. Just as she had with Gouramma, she sat and watched Winterhalter paint Duleep on successive days, as well as sketching him when he joined the family at Osborne. Winterhalter’s portrait is a grandiose full- length study, depicting Duleep as a proud Sikh ruler, richly dressed, adorned with pearls, a sheathed sword in his right hand, and a temple in the background. One small detail hints at his conversion. Around his neck is a miniature portrait of Queen Victoria, the very same one that had been given to Ranjit Singh by Lord Auckland in 1839. Two years later, as she had done with Gouramma, Queen Victoria commissioned a bust from Marochetti of Duleep, and had it coloured, although was disappointed with the result. As well as sketching Duleep Singh, the queen kept a record of their conversations that summer. She went over the details of the narrative of his life, getting him to confirm some of the awful events – in particular, the murder of his uncle, Sher Singh, astride an elephant while Duleep was his passenger – and she questioned him about his conversion to Christianity and the ostracisation he had suffered from his family as a result. In an ironic twist she revealed to Duleep Singh some of her own souvenirs of the Punjab. She showed him Charles Hardinge’s sketches of him as a small boy, and let him see the Koh- i-Noor, which he was allowed to stroke. But she ensured that he did not view the captured Sikh arms on the terrace. Her fondness for Duleep was clear, but there was also a certain wallowing in his submissiveness. Passing on her congratulations for his sixteenth birthday she noted he ‘would have come of age, had we not been obliged to take the Punjab’.Duleep Singh returned to stay with the royal family at Windsor and Osborne again over the next two years, and on each occasion the queen was able to observe the progress of his education under the guidance of the Logins. Some of this took a conventional form. There was a lot of hunting and shooting in the Scottish Highlands, and a tour to Europe at the end of 1858. Other episodes in the grooming of the maharaja reflected Prince Albert’s enthusiasms. He was taken on a tour of the sites of Staffordshire in March 1856, including a descent down a pitshaft, and later that year attended the Birmingham cattle show and helped set up a refuge home for Indian lascars. He joined a volunteers regiment in 1859, and once he left London in 1859 to live at Mulgrave House, near Whitby, he represented the queen at various local functions. By the time he was a young adult, Duleep Singh was pining for the Punjab. To the consternation of Queen Victoria, he remained close to his mother. Duleep yearned to return to India, and finally travelled there in 1861, bringing his mother back with him to England, only for her to die two years later. He made another trip to India to scatter her ashes, and passing through Cairo on his return he met and married Bamba Müller, a young woman of German and Abyssinian descent who lived in the American mission there. They settled down to country life on a Norfolk estate, raising a family of six children, the first of whom, Victor Albert Duleep Singh, born in 1866, became the queen’s latest godson. Duleep Singh’s frustrations in forced exile in England radicalised him, and by the 1880s he was planning to renounce his Christianity, return to India and claim his succession as Sikh leader. He sought allies for his restitution as far as Cairo and Moscow, and finally died in Paris in 1893, separated from his homeland and from his family. For much of his life Duleep Singh proved a headache for the British government at home and in India, and on occasion he was a major strategic risk. Despite his reputation as a pampered prince, he remained a credible focal point for Sikh nationalism throughout his lifetime. For all his justifiable resentment against the British, Duleep Singh was considered an intimate member of the queen’s extended royal family until his death. From the marriage of Princess Vicky in 1858 through to the funeral of Prince Leopold in 1884, he attended every major royal ceremony, including the funeral of Prince Albert in 1861 and the thanksgiving for the recovery of the health of the Prince of Wales in 1871. On each occasion he sat on one side of the queen (her own children were on the other) along with the other foreign princes, mostly those from the smaller German states who were related to Victoria and Albert. Queen Victoria’s own dedication to Duleep rarely wavered. She defended him from suspicion that his loyalties lay elsewhere during the Indian rebellion of 1857–8. In 1868 she pressed Disraeli’s government to make further provision for Duleep Singh’s growing family, although that had not been part of the original terms under which he was included in the civil list (the public funds used to finance the royal family). Even in 1886, once his machinations with Russia were known, and she conceded that he was ‘off his head’, she still insisted that the government look after his family properly, in the event of his not returning to Britain. There was a final meeting between the queen and the maharaja in Grasse in the south -east of France in March 1891, two years before he died. Queen Victoria’s obsession with these two young exiles in the mid-1850s defies simple explanation. She undoubtedly had a genuine sympathy for the Indian royals whom her own government had done so much to displace. It extended to the old as well as the young. The same year that Duleep Singh came to the court, she had an audience with Prince Ghulam Mohammed, the last living son of Tipu Sultan, who had come to London to argue the case for ongoing support for his own sons and any descendants they might have. To support his claims Prince Ghulam republished the history of Tipu, already reasonably well known. The queen noted in her journal her respect for Prince Ghulam’s quiet dignity as he went about his appeals, whilst observing that had Tipu survived then all might have turned out very differently. Her magnanimity always came from belonging to the winning side. There was also a strong element of mothering. Tipu was widely depicted as a neglectful father. Queen Victoria’s wrath against Duleep’s mother and also her contempt for the Raja of Coorg betrayed the same indignation over poor parenting, the very reversal of the patriarchal household that she and Albert had developed around their own children. Her own maternal instinct was more than matched by Prince Albert’s vision of a princely confederation that might include his own sons, as well as the minor German princes and Duleep Singh. They were of royal blood after all. After his death, Victoria remained loyal to Albert’s dynastic aspirations, with her inclusion of all the princes in all the family ceremonies thereafter. Particularly in the case of Duleep, there was also a heavily romanticized appreciation of Sikhs and Sikhism, fuelled by the first- hand accounts from the battlefield and also by travel literature popularised by various German and English writers in the 1840s. As a war- like but conquered people, there was not a little vanity and conceit contained in the way in which the royal family not only captured Duleep in his Sikh finery, but also appropriated it for themselves. Most telling of all, the addition of these young India royals to the court represented the high- water mark of Queen Victoria’s evangelical aspirations for India. This can be seen in the rituals around conversion, that is to say, Gouramma’s baptism at the Palace, and Duleep being made to recount the trials he suffered surrounding his own conversion. It is also evidenced in the portraits and busts that the queen commissioned of the two, depictions emphasising their racial difference, whilst at the same time detailing the tokens of their new allegiance to a western monarch and to a Christian god. Here was Christianity in India making rapid strides at her very feet. Three days after she introduced Gouramma and Duleep Singh to each other for the first time, she wrote to Lord Dalhousie, saying how she approved of their future marriage (it never happened), and also how she hoped that the growing network of railways in India would ‘facilitate the spread of Christianity which has hitherto made very slow progress’. The Bible and the steam engine –religion and industry: for all their curiosity about the east, Victoria and Albert understood India from a largely western perspective. The year of rebellion, 1857–8, changed all that.


Get your copy of The English Maharani on Queen Victoria’s 200th birthday!

Games Indians Play – An Excerpt

Drawing examples from the way we behave in day-to-day situations, an all-new and revised edition of Games Indians Play tries to show how in the long run each one of us-whether businessmen, politicians, bureaucrats, or just plain us-stand to profit more if we were to assume a little self-regulation, give fairness a chance and strive to cooperate and collaborate a little more even if self-interest were to be our main driving force.

In a rare attempt to understand the Indianness of Indians-among the most intelligent people in the world, but also, to a dispassionate eye, perhaps the most baffling- V. Raghunathan uses the props of game theory and behavioural economics to provide an insight into the difficult conundrum of why we are the way we are.

 

Here’s an excerpt from the first chapter of the book!


NOT WHO BUT WHY

‘Who am I?’ is not a question that occupies me much. I have neither the intellectual curiosity nor the intellectual endowment to ask or answer that question. But, off and on, like when I have just returned from a visit abroad (by ‘abroad’ I mean not only countries like the USA, UK and UAE but also the Philippines, Malaysia and Indonesia or Botswana, Burkina Faso and Burundi), I find myself asking some less philosophical questions. For example:

Why is my sense of public hygiene so porcine? Why do I throw my garbage around with the gay abandon of an inebriated uncle flinging 500-rupee notes at a Punjabi wedding? Why do I spit with a free will, as if without that one right I would be a citizen of a lesser democracy? Why do I tear off a page from a library book, or write my name on the Taj Mahal? Why do I light a match to a football stadium, a city bus or any other handy public property, or toot my horn in a residential locality at 3 a.m.? Why do I leave a public toilet smelling even though I would like to find it squeaky clean as I enter it? Why don’t I contribute in any way to help maintain a beautiful public park? Why is my concern for quality in whatever I do rather Lilliputian? Why is my ambition or satisfaction threshold at the level of a centipede’s belly button? Why do I run the tap full blast while shaving even when I know of the acute water shortage in the city? Why don’t I stop or slow down my car to allow a senior citizen or a child to cross the road? Why do I routinely jump out of my seat in a mad rush for the overhead baggage even before the aircraft comes to a halt, despite the repeated entreaties of the cabin crew?

Why do I routinely disregard an airline’s announcement to board in orderly groups in accordance with seat numbers? Why does it not hurt my national pride that in international terminals abroad extra staff is appointed at gates from which flights to India are to depart? Why don’t I vote? Why don’t I stand up or retaliate against social ills? Why is it that every time the government announces a well-intended measure like a higher rate of interest for senior citizens I am not averse to borrowing my ageing parents’ names, or the old family maid’s for that matter, to save my money? Why is it that, every time the government announces no tax deduction at source for small depositors, I split my bank deposit into fifteen different accounts, with the active connivance of the bank manager? Why do I jump red lights with the alacrity of a jackrabbit leaping ahead of a buckshot? Why do I block the left lane, when my intention is to turn right? Or vice versa? Why do I overtake from the left? Why do I drive at night in the city with the high beam on? Why do I jump queues with the zest of an Olympic heptathlon gold hopeful?

 


Get your copy of Games Indians Play today!

Love Knows No LoC- An Excerpt

Zoya, a twenty-five-year-old Pakistani pop star, meets emerging Indian cricketer Kabeer while he is on tour in the country to play a match to promote Indo-Pak friendship.

One thing leads to another and soon Kabeer and Zoya are inseparable.

As their relationship is put to the test in the wake of mounting tensions between the two countries, they both stumble across a long-buried truth that will forever change the course of their lives.

Here’s an excerpt from Arpit Vageria’s Love Knows No LOC:

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As Kabeer settled into his seat on the flight, memories of his last meeting with Zoya came flooding back. This was the last leg of his tour. It was also his last chance to restore the selectors’ faith in him and secure a place for himself in India’s international cricket team. On his way from the airport to the hotel in the bus with his other teammates, he read his last WhatsApp chat with her over and over again until the bus drew up at the Taj hotel in Mumbai. Even though he wanted to stay completely focused on the game to avoid disappointing his city, as he had done the last time, his thoughts repeatedly drifted to Zoya. He wondered where she was. Whether she had fallen in love with somebody else or, worse, forgotten Kabeer like a bad past and moved on.

There’s enough time to watch an entire movie when commuting through Mumbai’s gridlocked traffic, he thought. He wasn’t aware how long he had been listening to the playlist being fed into his earphones; it had already been repeated twice or thrice; all were tracks sung by Zoya. He remembered her telling him that every song she sang was inspired by him and that she had conceptualized these lyrics in his very presence.

That made him feel special.

Kabeer barely noticed the crowd of fans waiting outside the hotel, holding up placards with his name on it. The girls in the crowd frantically waved to catch his attention; some of them were wearing masks with his face painted on them—all for one smile in return.

A hand on his shoulder shook him out of his reverie. Arko was a teammate from Team India A, playing for Mumbai Riders in the T20 tournaments. He nodded to Kabeer indicating that it was time to disembark. Kabeer felt a tightness in his throat. He quickly looked around, hoping no one had noticed his emotional state.

Arko stared at Kabeer as he saw him sniffling and wiping his nose. ‘This is affecting your game, Kabeer; however, I’ve seen you in worse phases before. You can snap out of this as well.’

‘I’m just not used to being without Zoya,’ Kabeer said gruffly, picking up his rucksack and moving down the aisle of the bus.

‘You just have to get used to living without people who don’t belong with you in the first place,’ whispered Arko over his shoulder.

‘She was mine.’

‘She is a Pakistani,’ Arko stated flatly.

‘So?’

‘She was a habit; you’ll get over her. After what she did to you, you didn’t have any other choice. There were a million things that you could have done, but you did the right thing.’

Kabeer took a moment to register his words.

‘Don’t blame yourself, Kabeer,’ Arko encouraged. ‘It wasn’t your fault.’


Love Knows No LOC is a cross-border romance like no other! Available Now!

Carpenters and Kings – An Excerpt of ‘The Second Carpenter’

A gripping narrative of two diagonally opposite impulses in Christianity: of humble scholars trying to live the Christian ideal, and of ambitious ecclesiastical empire-builders with more earthly goals. Carpenters and Kings is a tale of Christianity, and, equally, a glimpse of the India which has always existed: a multicultural land where every faith has found a home through the centuries.

Here is an excerpt from the first chapter!


‘Send me where you want, but send me somewhere else. Not to India.’

Thus begins The Acts of Thomas, an account of the coming of the apostle Thomas to the subcontinent. Now part of the large body of literature termed New Testament Apocrypha, The Acts, written in the third person, does not, unlike the four canonical gospels, talk about the life, ministry, crucifixion and resurrection of Jesus Christ. Instead, it begins with a gathering of the apostles in Jerusalem, to decide who would spread the message of the Son of God in which part of the world. The writers seem to have assumed that the readers, or listeners, are already familiar with the life of Christ. Although it says ‘we the apostles’, it does not specify who the narrators are.

All eleven of the surviving apostles are present, and named, at the beginning of the First Act: the brothers John and James the son of Zebedee, Peter* and his brother Andrew, James the son of Alphaeus, Simon from Canaan, Philip, Bartholomew, Matthew, Judas the brother of James, and Thomas himself.

The Risen Christ has met them and instructed them to travel among the nations with his teachings. It is a gathering of friends, witnesses to the miracle of the resurrection and conscious of their role as the closest followers of Christ. It is a momentous discussion, for the task given to them is to save the world. Christian tradition would come to call this the Dispersion of the Apostles.

The apostles then divide the regions of the world among themselves, and Thomas is tasked with going to India. Insofar as even a draw of lots for the apostles is determined by the will of God, Thomas makes for an interesting choice to travel to India. What would the fate of the Church have been if Peter, instead, had been chosen by divine will? Peter, the rock of the Church, so aware of how far short he fell of the ideals of Christ that he insisted, according to Christian tradition, that he be crucified upside down, in a symbolic inversion of the way Jesus was crucified. How might he have preached in India? It can only be speculated, because the task goes to Thomas, while Peter would travel through the great cities of Antioch and Corinth to Rome.

Diffidence and doubt seem to be recurring themes in the personality of Thomas, according to The Acts. In the canonical Gospel of John, when Jesus tells the apostles that he is leaving to prepare eternity for those who follow him, Thomas is made to say: ‘We do not know where you are going, so how will we know the way?’ Again, after the resurrected Christ appears to the apostles, Thomas declares he will not believe in the resurrection unless he sees Christ with his own eyes and touches the nail wounds on his limbs and the spear wound on his side.

Thomas finally believes in the resurrection after he does precisely that, to which Christ says, ‘Because you have seen, you have believed; blessed are those who have not seen but still believed.’ Scepticism was not new for the apostle.
Thomas, who from these episodes came to be called ‘Doubting Thomas’ in later Western Christian tradition, behaves in a similar manner at the beginning of The Acts, and refuses to go to India. ‘I am a Hebrew. How can I go among the Indians and preach the truth?’ he tells his fellow apostles at the gathering.

Later, Jesus himself son of Alphaeus, Simon from Canaan, Philip, Bartholomew, Matthew, Judas the brother of James, and Thomas himself. The Risen Christ has met them and instructed them to travel among the nations with his teachings. It is a gathering of friends, witnesses to the miracle of the resurrection and conscious of their role as the closest followers of Christ. It is a momentous discussion, for the task given to them is to save the world. Christian tradition would come to call this the Dispersion of the Apostles.

The apostles then divide the regions of the world among themselves, and Thomas is tasked with going to India. Insofar as even a draw of lots for the apostles is determined by the will of God, Thomas makes for an interesting choice to travel to India. What would the fate of the Church have been if Peter, instead, had been chosen by divine will? Peter, the rock of the Church, so aware of how far short he fell of the ideals of Christ that he insisted, according to Christian tradition, that he be crucified upside down, in a symbolic inversion of the way Jesus was crucified. How might he have preached in India? It can only be speculated, because the task goes to Thomas, while Peter would travel through the great cities of Antioch and Corinth to Rome.

The solution to this impasse comes about in the form of Abbanes, a merchant sent to Jerusalem by King Gundaphorus of India, and tasked with getting him a carpenter. Christ finds Abbanes in the market and tells the merchant that he has a slave, a carpenter, and is willing to sell the man. He then leads the merchant to the reluctant apostle, and Abbanes tells Thomas that he has been sold. Thomas accepts the will of God and finds himself embarking for India, after all. What transpires is among the most magical of New Testament apocryphal stories.

The first halt for Thomas and Abbanes is at the city of Andrapolis, of which no other details are given except that it is‘a royal city’. Here Thomas is asked by the king to pray for his daughter, it being her wedding night. However, Christ appears before the newly-weds in the form of Thomas and tells them not to develop physical relations, but keep themselves pure for the Lord.


Carpenters and Kings is an account of how global events, including the Crusades and the Mongol conquests, came together to bring Western Christianity to India.

Being Good at something Isn’t a Strength. Here’s Why.

You crave feedback. Your organization’s culture is the key to its success. Strategic planning is essential. Your competencies should be measured and your weaknesses shored up. Leadership is a thing.

These may sound like basic truths of our work lives today. But actually, they’re lies.

From Marcus Buckingham and Ashley Goodall’s book, Nine Lies About Work, we extract another lie that must be debunked from the chapter The Best People are well-rounded that talks about strength vs ability when it comes to being good at something.


Lionel Messi plies his trade on the world’s largest sporting stages, but you may have experienced similar admiration for colleagues at work. One of them puts together a presentation and delivers it with wit and clarity, and you smile. Another handles a grumpy customer with just the right mix of empathy and practicality, and you marvel at how easy she made it look. Another defuses a complex political situation, and you look at him in awe and wonder how on earth he did it. As humans, we are wired to find joy in seeing someone else’s talents in action. We resonate with the naturalness, the fluidity, and the honesty of a thing done brilliantly well, and it attracts us and draws us in.

You will have recognized the Messi joy when it is your own performance that you’re experiencing, too – that is, when you are expressing your own strengths. This sensation is not, at root, created by how good you are at something. Rather, it’s created by how that activity makes you feel. A strength, properly defined, is not “something you are good at.” You will have many activities or skills that, by dint of your intelligence, your sense of responsibility, or your disciplined practice, you are quite good at, and that nonetheless bore you, or leave you cold, or even drain you. “Something you are good at” is not a strength; it is an ability. And, yes, you will be able to demonstrate high ability – albeit briefly – at quite a few things that bring you no joy whatsoever.

A strength, on the other hand, is an “activity that makes you feel strong.” Before you do it, you find yourself actively looking forward to doing it. While you are doing it, time seems to speed up, one moment blurring into the next. And after you’ve done with it, while you may be tired and not quite ready to suit up and tackle it again, you nonetheless feel filled up, proud. It is the combination of three distinct feelings – positive anticipation beforehand, flow during, and fulfillment afterward – that make a certain activity a strength. And it is this combination of feelings that produces in you the yearning to do the activity again and again, to practice it over and over, to thrill to the chance to do it just one more time. A strength is far more appetite than ability, and indeed it is the appetite ingredient that feeds the desire to keep working on it and that, in the end, produces the skill improvement necessary for excellent performance.


Nine Lies About Work reveals the few core truths that will help you show just how good you are to those who truly rely on you.

Mayawati: Goddess of Justice, the Lioness of UP or the Iron Lady?

On the eve of a landmark general election, Ruchir Sharma offers an unrivalled portrait of how India and its democracy work, drawn from his two decades on the road chasing election campaigns across every major state, travelling the equivalent of a lap around the earth. Democracy on the Road takes readers on a rollicking ride with Ruchir and his merry band of fellow writers as they talk to farmers, shopkeepers and CEOs from Rajasthan to Tamil Nadu, and interview leaders from Narendra Modi to Rahul Gandhi.

Excerpted here is the author’s encounters with Mayawati as well as her journey in politics.


All of his rivals were accusing Mulayam of running a deeply corrupt administration that was lining the pockets of his fellow Yadavs. Into this breach stepped Mayawati, who aimed to build a winning plurality with the support of castes alienated by Mulayam’s Yadav centric administration. To build on her rock-solid base among Dalits, Mayawati decided on a bold strategy, reaching out to Brahmins, who are politically powerful everywhere but at 10 per cent of the population, double the India average, are particularly important in this critical state. Accustomed to a position of great power, the Brahmins felt marginalized by the Yadav government, but drawing them in to support Mayawati would not be easy: no one had forgotten her party’s old call on Dalits to ‘beat all the upper castes with shoes’. Mayawati appealed to Brahmins with an offer of power, not aid or job reservations. In fact, she didn’t campaign actively, appearing at one or two rallies a day—rather than the usual eight or nine typical of any state leader around election time. Instead, she focused her attention on a detailed and well-researched effort to find candidates—including Brahmin ones—who had the best chance to win in each constituency.

At this point in her career, Mayawati was becoming more and more dictatorial in her leadership of the BSP. It had no number two, no succession plan, no plan to make one. Reports from her camp said that Mayawati was subject to increasingly violent mood swings, that staff cowered in her presence, and that she single-handedly collected and managed the party’s funds. On her birthday, supporters came to her home and placed cash donations directly in her hands.

Mayawati personally picked BSP candidates and assigned them to constituencies. She was also said to be turning inward, increasingly shielding herself from the press and the outside world, and speaking only to her party lackeys.

When the results came in, Mayawati won more comfortably than we expected. She took a chunk of Brahmin and other upper caste voters disillusioned with the BJP. Coupled with her usual Dalit support, that was enough to propel Mayawati to power. With a little more than 30 per cent of the total vote, her BSP won 208 of the 400 seats in the UP assembly. It was the first time a Dalit party had ever won an absolute majority in an Indian state election.

***

In the five years since we had seen Mayawati rise to become chief minister of Uttar Pradesh, she had grown more and more regal. Other chief ministers had encouraged a cult of personality but none on the same scale as Mayawati, who was building towering statues of herself and her party symbol, the elephant, all over the state and its capital. When she came to power, Lucknow was building the ambitious new Ambedkar Park, and she had added as its centerpiece a monument to herself and other Dalit leaders, surrounded by elephants. In 2007, Mayawati had won by courting Brahmin voters and became the first important Dalit leader to draw significant upper-caste votes. But the taboo-shattering alliance soon unravelled.

Many of her Dalit supporters were angry at Mayawati for giving top posts to Brahmins, and by 2012, Mayawati had not only dumped the Brahmins as allies, she was blaming them for the corruption in her government.

We attended a Mayawati rally in Ghatampur, just outside the city of Kanpur, where the warm-up songs praised her as the Goddess of Justice, the Lioness of UP and the Iron Lady. Around 60,000 people poured into the rally grounds, most of them Dalits, waving the blue flag of the BSP and listening raptly to Mayawati’s every word, despite the fact that she was reading from a prepared text, barely making eye contact. Mayawati allowed very few other leaders on her stage, leaving the impression that she was accompanied mainly by a large fan that blew only on her. To the Dalits of UP, Mayawati was more a hero than ever, and few if any begrudged her regal airs. To the rest, she was running a government mired ever more deeply in corruption and favouritism for her own community. Stories abounded about how she personally dispensed all her party’s campaign funds, and distributed nominations to the highest bidders.

***

…Mayawati would ride her bicycle around town, talking to voters, breaking bread with them in their homes. These bonds helped propel Mayawati into the Lok Sabha seat representing Bijnor in 1989, but that was then. As her name and fame grew and Mayawati moved on to the chief minister’s office in Lucknow, her Bijnor supporters had come to see her more as the national hero of the Dalits, less as one of their own. Indian politics had, if anything, grown more intensely local.

Mayawati had long since abandoned her 2007 promise to run a government in ‘everyone’s interests’, and seemed to be retreating back into her caste comfort zone. A founding slogan of her party was a rallying cry to Dalits and a threat to Brahmins: ‘Vote Hamara, Raj Tumhara, Nahin Chalega, Nahin Chalega.’ The vote is ours but the power is yours, this can’t go on. Now, she was telling Dalits at her rallies: ‘Satta ki chabi hum isse jaane nahin denge.’ We got hold of the key to power and we cannot let it go.

Indian elections are lost by the incumbent more often than they are won by the challenger, and this was a prime example: Mayawati was toppled by her own self-infatuation, her statues and her failure to fix run-down schools with absentee teachers. With so many parties competing in winner-take-all system, a small swing in the vote is enough to oust a government. Between 2007 and 2012 about 5 per cent of the vote swung from Mayawati’s party to the Yadav’s, and that was enough to dethrone Mayawati and put the Samajwadi Party in power with a solid majority in the state assembly.

When Mayawati’s helicopter landed, three hours late, they were waiting and eager, shouting, ‘Behenji tum sangharsh karo, hum tumhare saath hain.’ Sister you keep fighting, we are with you. They spoke of Mayawati as a hero who had refused to marry so that she could devote herself to fighting for the Dalits, and no one in the crowd begrudged for a second her increasingly regal ways. Let other politicians dress humbly, all in white to appear ascetic and close to the masses, Mayawati dressed up, hair dyed black, carrying a designer handbag, wearing diamond earrings and a fancy white shawl in the 38-degree heat.

Mayawati called the BJP a party of tainted candidates, criminals and defectors from other parties, and ridiculed it as the ‘Jumla Party’, the party of empty gimmicks. She accused the BJP of stashing its own cash away in safe havens before Modi withdrew all the big bills from circulation, of doing nothing to check rising attacks against Dalits, and of plotting to abolish the system that reserves a share of government posts for the backward castes. But there was also a strong caste tension between Mayawati and Akhilesh. Her vote base is the lowest castes who work as landless labourers in rural areas, while his Yadav vote base, one rung up the caste ladder, often works as supervisors overseeing Dalits and are thus often seen as their most direct oppressors. This clash was magnified by the general stereotype, which Mayawati played on relentlessly, of Yadavs as aggressive bullies. She promised to end the Yadavs’ lawless ‘jungle raj’, and put Samajwadi Party crooks behind bars. For all the cultural differences between south and north, Jayalalithaa shared much with regional leaders like Mayawati in UP or Mamata Banerjee of West Bengal, whom we would see in action on later trips. They were ‘supremos’, big party bosses who ruled their parties with unquestioned authority. Many supremos are men, like the Yadavs of both Bihar and UP, and a growing number are, like Modi, single. What bound the three leading female supremos together was that they were all single, and had risen in the man’s world of politics by sheer force of will.


On the eve of a landmark general election, Ruchir Sharma, in Democracy on the Road, offers an unrivalled portrait of how India and its democracy work, drawn from his two decades on the road chasing election campaigns across every major state, travelling the equivalent of a lap around the earth.

Lie #1: People Care which Company they Work For

In their book, Nine Lies About Work, strengths guru and bestselling author Marcus Buckingham and Cisco Leadership and Team Intelligence head Ashley Goodall show that there are some big lies – distortions, faulty assumptions, wrong thinking – that we encounter every time we show up for work.

Nine lies, to be exact. Here’s an extract from the first chapter, that talks about the first lie i.e. People care which company they work for


From the outside looking in, it’s pretty hard to figure out what it might be like to work for a particular company. If you’re job hunting, you might start by searching online as Lisa did—perhaps on Glassdoor or one of the other job boards where employees can rate their current company—or by talking to friends about where they’ve worked and what their experi- ences were. You might try to talk to a recruiter, although it’s tricky to do that if you’re not yet sure you’re going to apply. You might try to figure it out by reading the coverage of a company in the press, but this can be frustrating, since articles tend to focus more on a company’s products or its strategy, rather than on its culture per se. Wherever you look, you’ll find yourself wondering if what you’re discovering is really representa- tive of the company, and is giving you a good sense of the inside story. In search of more objectivity and breadth, then, you might turn to Fortune magazine’s annual ranking of the 100 Best Companies to Work For.

Fortune publishes its ranking every January, and this issue of the magazine is one of the most widely read of the year. The ranking is based on an anonymous survey of the employees at each com- pany (known as the “Trust Index”), together with a submission that each company puts together describing how it invests in its people and what it has to offer them (called the “Culture Audit”). From all this, the editors at the magazine and the analysts at the Great Place to Work Institute (which conducts the research) put together a list that tells you which companies are the best to work for that year, together with descriptions of the various perks they offer and brief testimony from current employees. In 2018 the top six, in order, were Salesforce, Wegmans, Ultimate Software, Boston Consulting Group, Edward Jones, and Kimpton Hotels, selected for reasons ranging from the pragmatic (paying bonuses for employee referrals, offer- ing Starbucks gift cards during busy times, on-site child day care) to the noble (giving millions of dollars’ worth of reclaimed food to the hungry, building environmentally friendly offices, always trying to promote from within) to the quirky (Salesforce has an entire floor dedicated to ohana, the Hawaiian for family, while Kimpton offers all new hires a welcome care package complete with each person’s favorite snacks).

If you are indeed looking for a job, you read Fortune’s list in search  of insights about a given company. What will your colleagues be like? How will they treat you? What will a typical day be like? Will your work be interesting, challenging, and valued? Is this a company that really cares for its people? If you go through the long process of apply- ing, and interviewing, and negotiating an offer, and ultimately land- ing a job there, will this be a company that puts as much into you and your career as you’re going to put into it?

What, precisely, is this list measuring about these companies? Read the submissions, the press releases, and Fortune’s own descriptions of the winners, and the word you land on is culture. Salesforce has a “family culture,” hence the Ohana floor. Wegmans has a culture based on its mission to “help people live healthier, better lives through food.” Kimpton Hotels has an “inclusiveness culture.” Each of these companies, it appears, has figured out what kind of culture it wants to build, and then has made it onto the list because it has been resolute and effective in its pursuit. Judging by these and other examples, this thing called culture really matters. It is potentially more important than what the company does—“Culture eats strategy for breakfast!”— how the company does it, how much the employees get paid, or even the company’s current stock price.

Culture matters, according to the voluminous literature on the topic, because it has three powerful contributions to make. First, it tells you who you are at work. If you’re  at  Patagonia,  you’d rather be surfing. You work in beautiful Oxnard, California, and your onboarding consists of a day-long beach party where you are gifted the CEO’s autobiography—Let My People Go Surfing—and where your first meeting takes place around a campfire. If you’re at Goldman Sachs, then never mind the surfing—you’d rather be winning. You wear your bespoke suit every day because you’re a winner. It means something to say that you work for Deloitte, or for Apple, or for Chick-fil-A—and this meaning says something about you, something that locates you and differentiates you, that defines your tribe.

Second, culture has come to be how we choose to explain success. When Tesla’s stock was on the rise in the early part of 2017, it wasn’t because people were finally getting the electric cars they’d paid deposits for a year earlier—they weren’t. Rather, it was because Elon Musk had created a culture of cool, a place where you couldn’t even see the cutting edge because it was so far behind you. When Toyota had to recall over six million vehicles, the direct cause was a problem with the shift-lever assembly, but the deeper explanation we arrived at was that it was a problem with their polite yet win-at-all- costs culture.

And third, culture is now a watchword for where we want our company to go: almost overnight, a big part of the job description of senior corporate leaders has become to create a specific sort of culture, a culture of “performance,” perhaps, or a culture of “feedback,” or a culture of “inclusion,” or a culture of “innovation”; to shape the direc- tion of the company they lead by infusing it with particular traits that govern how people behave. Beyond explaining the now, culture has become our handle on the next.

As a team leader you are going to be told, repeatedly, that you must take stock of all this because you are responsible for embodying your company’s culture, and for building a team that adheres to these cultural norms. You will be asked to select only applicants who fit the culture, to identify high-potentials by whether or not they embody the company culture, to run your meetings in a way that fits the cul- ture, and, at company off-sites, to don the T-shirts and sing the songs.

All of which is fine, right up to the point where you start to wonder what, precisely, you are being held accountable for. Read the Fortune list again and you’ll be struck by the fact that a very small percentage of what’s written about your company is in your job description. Having an on-site day-care facility, giving all employees 20 percent of their time to pursue their own interests, offering large rewards for referring a new hire, and building solar panels on the roof are all admirable initiatives, yet none of them is within your control. They are commitments made by others—the executive committee or the board—and while you may think them worthy, and may indeed be proud that they are something your tribe contributes to the world, you can’t do anything about them. They are off in some other place, far from the day-to-day projects and deadlines, the ongoing actions and interactions, that actually comprise your world of work.

When people ask you what it’s “really like” to work at your company, you immediately know you’re going to tell them not about the solar panels and the cafeteria, but about what it’s really like. So you’ll get real, and talk about how work is parceled out, whether many managers play favorites, how disputes get resolved, whether the real meeting happens only after the formal meeting is over, how people get promoted, how territorial the teams are, how large the power distance is between senior leaders and everyone else, whether good news or bad news travels fastest, how much recognition there is, and whether performance or politics is most prized. You’ll get down to the two-foot level of how work actually gets done, and try to tease out what your company truly feels like to the people on the ground.

You won’t know whether to call this “culture” or not, just as you won’t necessarily know how to label each of these two-foot-level details, but in every fiber of your being you’ll know that this ground- level stuff is what’ll decide how hard people will work once they’ve joined, and how long they’ll stay. This ground-level stuff is what they truly care about. Indeed, this ground-level stuff is what you truly care about.

In which case, your most pressing question, as a team leader, will be something like this: If I am to help my team give their best, for as long as possible, which of these details are most critical? Tell me the most important ones, and I’ll do my level best to pay attention to those.

We’ve spent the last two decades attempting to answer this ques- tion for you. In the next few pages we’ll outline what we’ve found, and then we’ll focus the rest of this book on going deeper, and on giving you insights and prescriptions for how you can address the things that matter most.

And in so doing, the first lie we’ll need to expose is precisely that people care which company they work for. It sounds so odd to label this a lie, since each of us does indeed feel some sort of connection to our company, but read on, and we think you’ll see that while what each of us truly cares about may begin as “company,” it quickly morphs into something else rather different.


Nine Lies About Work reveals the few core truths that will help you show just how good you are to those who truly rely on you.

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