My first field visit, Jajpur!

Posted on March 11, 2012 by Avantika Dhingra
Living in a remote village is easy when you know it’s not your reality. Managing with the lack of facilities is easy when you know you’re only a few hours away from home. Giving advice is easy when you know that you’ve not got the raw end of the deal.

I had the opportunity of visiting Jajpur recently, a small town in Orissa, for my first field visit. For many years, I had wanted to go on a field visit. In fact, I’d often wonder why they referred to it as the ‘field’, almost giving me the impression of a playground or large spaces and open grounds. Clearly an amateur in the development world, I learned rather late that a ‘field visit’ merely meant working with the community!

Honestly, I went there with almost no expectations, apart from being aware of the fact that work had to get done on a daily basis. The night before my flight, I attended a rather ‘affluent’ get together, where I kept thinking to myself that the subsequent day would be nothing like that.

So, with anxiety and a bit of hope, I left for Jajpur. The objective of my trip was to assess the skill levels of the women in Jajpur, in tailoring and a local craft called golden grass. These were local women of the community who had inherited some of these skills over the years, but had never been through a professional training for the same. I was accompanied by a designer, whose primary role was to train these women on design and finishing, so as to increase the marketability of their products, thereby improving their livelihood.

Women working with Golden Grass

Most of the women stitch for a living. They stitch garments on a daily basis and sell them for Rs100 or less per piece in their local markets. As for women involved in golden grass, they take a day to make a basket and sell it for Rs30 or less. Their average income for a month is Rs1000.

Training started on a day that happened to be a big local festival there, Shivratri, where all the women fast until the break of dawn. They all looked lovely, wearing their best and displaying their precious jewels. They didn’t look deprived or unhappy with their circumstances. At least on that special day, they seemed to have left all their worries back home and all they looked was, pretty!  They quickly understood why we were there, and it didn’t take them long to start the work with full enthusiasm and energy.

Women tailoring

The first few days saw a bit of chaos where the women were excited and nervous at the same time. Excited because they were getting an opportunity to learn something new, and nervous because they had to perform to stay in the program.  I realized one thing. Whether one is working with a small village community or a team within a big corporation, organized competition works everywhere. Keeping this in mind, we organized a test for elimination to ensure that the women were giving in their best to be part of the program and that one had to qualify to be trained. Truly incredible to see how the ownership and importance of something increases when you’ve ‘earned’ it. As expected, the preliminary round did actually increase the level of seriousness in the program, where conducting the training became far more effective by the second day.The training was rather rigorous where these women worked from 10am to 5pm.

Upon seeing the amount of detail that goes into tailoring and golden grass, I realized that one needs a lot of patience to pursue each of these crafts. This was when a question struck me. What if they don’t wish to pursue any of these crafts? What if they don’t like being patient? Would they much rather do work that is fast paced? What if they don’t enjoy stitching clothes? The answer was simple. They didn’t have the ‘choice’. They never had one.

Myself & Sadhwi

Beyond developing a professional relationship, I tried to get a sense of who these women were, where they came from and why they chose to spend time at the training. I met this 18-year-old girl named Sadhwi (name changed to maintain anonymity). A complete rebel, she had come for the training as an excuse to get out of the home, where her family was forcing her to do household work and get married. She was clear she wasn’t ready to settle down yet. We also shared a few jokes on how she wouldn’t go down to the shoe shop because she didn’t want to meet her ‘prospective’ husband, who happened to work there. She was taking computer classes in the morning, before coming for our training program, ensuring that she keeps away from home as much as possible.

Unfortunately on the second day, she was one of the girl’s who had to be eliminated from the program, something she didn’t take very well. After speaking with her, I realized how much she reminded me of myself, when I was young. That’s when I knew I was at the right place, as I was in a position to change her circumstances. Just like me, she needed that little extra push to shine through, and I was in a position to do that for her. She was called back for the training the next day and instructed to practice with the other women, until she becomes eligible for the training program.

By the end of the week, seeing the women progress was heartening. From cushion covers to hair bands to buttons to tablemats, each of the women had products to take back home every day. For us, it was the pride in their eyes, which we wanted them to take home. Upon requesting a few samples to take back to Delhi, we were overwhelmed by how many women offered their pieces of work. This was a moment of recognition for them and a ray of hope that somewhere somebody will reward them for their efforts.

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Rules of the game—navigating cultural differences

Posted on March 1, 2012 by Joyce Jauer
I knew in moving to Varanasi my life would be worlds different from anything I had ever known. I knew that I would face new challenges adjusting to a new job, new wardrobe, new set of resources, and new community. I knew that it wouldn’t be easy. But what I didn’t know—and couldn’t—is what those differences and challenges would look like.

Let me paint you a picture of where I came from and what my reality is now: I’m used to having a two bedroom, two bathroom apartment with a Western toilet and bathtub/shower that dispenses hot tap water; clean drinking water from the faucet; a kitchen with a four range stove, oven, microwave, refrigerator, and counter/pantry space; and a parking spot out front for the car that I drove myself, in a complex with a pool and clubhouse. My office  I could go to Wal-mart for a print cartridge or Spoons for frozen yogurt at any time of day or night without worrying about my safety or asking permission.

Here I live in a girls hostel where I share a room (the size of my old office) and bathroom with another girl. I have an Eastern toilet, take bucket baths with water I heat up with an immersion rod, and wash my clothes with the same bucket. I drink and brush my teeth with sealed, bottled water. When I can’t eat the hostel food (most of the time), I make food on a single burner gas stove with no kitchen. I walk, hire cycle rickshaws, and take shared autos with my backpack jam-packed with everything I need for work. I have to ask people time after time where I can find the things I need like packaged yogurt, lotion without the whitening bleaches in it, and an extension cord (finally finding sources for all three—hooray!) My office doesn’t have running water or air conditioning, and I worry about monkeys attacking me on my daily commute. I have to be home by 8—9 at the latest—and I get disgruntled stares if I return back after that and the hostel “Grampa” has to unlock the gate for me.

However most of these changes are manageable. I was prepared for many of these changes by reading ahead, asking questions, and listening to everything the Fellowship advised and recommended. Some of the unexpected things I’ve learned to handle: I make do with scrambled eggs and soup from a packet; I have water as a line item in my monthly budget; I pester people until I find out where things are; I heat up enough water to take a bath and do some washing all in one go. I have figured out work-arounds. The thing that isn’t as manageable is not knowing the rules of the game.

At first I didn’t know about the implied curfew. I didn’t know not to send out my underclothes and socks to the washerman. I didn’t know that speaking with your hands (as I always do) when you’re angry is perceived as very abusive. I didn’t know that ladies shouldn’t buy wine (or anything related to alcohol). I didn’t know that people stay silent, seeming to ignore you, instead of telling you “no.” I didn’t know that my staff and peers would think I’m incapable of doing certain things just because I’m a woman.

Life is just different here. I love my job, and l love my life here (on most days.) But I have to admit that I am perplexed by some of the “rules” and norms. I read books and reports about my new environment before I left, but nothing prepared me for the subtle and often implied-but-never-declared cultural differences.

The overt ones are easy. I wear a dupatta. I cover my legs. I stumble through in Hindi. I eat with my hands (as best I can.) But it’s the understated things that trip me up. I knew that men might have a problem making deals with me professionally, but I didn’t expect my female hostel warden to refuse to deal with me directly, opting to communicate with me through my boss. I knew that people might perceive Western women as more promiscuous because of Hollywood portrayals of relationships, but I didn’t expect to be considered racy for being a single woman riding on the back of a motorcycle or having a coffee with a man 5 feet away from me at a cafe in broad daylight. There have been any number of times I wished I knew not to do something before doing something I think is completely innocent and normal (…or at least had an idea I was crossing a boundary but choosing to do it with the consequences in mind.)

It would be so nice if there were a “Single Texas girl living in Varanasi” manual. Alas, (and of course) there isn’t. (Maybe I’ll write one.) So I will keep figuring out these cultural nuances the hard way…and keep asking incessant questions to try to figure them out the easier way, too.

Luckily there are some things that don’t require rules. Human kindness exists everywhere. People give and receive it no matter how different cultural nuances are. My colleague running errands with me, my room partner giving me a ring, and my boss bringing me breakfast are all things I don’t need translated. Buying a soda for a colleague, hugging my room partner while she cries, and helping my boss talk through decisions don’t need to be translated either. These things make not knowing the rules easier. They make the world a bit brighter.

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On the Road

Posted on February 17, 2012 by Adithya Rao

It was the night of the 31st of December when we were driving on the road from Meikudipatti, a small hamlet near Thanjavur towards to Trichy on the state highway. It’s a narrow 2 lane road with a reasonable amount of traffic going both ways throughout the night. Our driver had to make a sharp turn to avoid a stack of grain by the side of the road, covered by a sheet of tarpaulin and sticks. When you pass through Indian country sides this is a regular sight during harvest season. What we saw that night however was unprecedented – a family of 4 sleeping along with their harvest.
Considering how it takes about 3 days to separate grains of rice from the harvested plant, this family of four was sleeping on a state highway, risking life and limb for about 12 days in a year. We were startled, perplexed and sad to see what they had to put themselves through to put food on the plate.
To understand better, we needed a better understanding of the mechanics and economics of agriculture in the area.
So, we met Mr. Jagan Nath – A rice farmer who grows rice along with his family and chooses to process the rice from his fields along with his family on the very same state highway. He harvests about 10 bags of about 60 kg each from his marginal holding of 1 acre (about 4047 sq m or 43560 sq ft), employing only his family members to do the cultivation and harvesting.

He explained that the process of extracting the rice from the plant begins with harvesting the plant from the fields and bringing it to the roads near the village. Threshing is done by pounding the straw against a small rock. The ladies help by bunching the straw in handy batches. Because some of the grains remain in the straw and it requires considerable effort to remove,  they spend time on the busy highway first spreading out the hay all across the breadth of the highway. The wheels of passing vehicles thresh the straw as they go by. While doing so, not only do the farmers expose themselves to the risk of passing vehicles, they also risk a flash shower (A common phenomenon during the retreating monsoons) that may reduce the grain quality and possibly spoil the grain quicker than expected.
The grains are then winnowed and sold to the local rice mill. The farmer exchanges about 60 kg of rough rice (with husk) for 50 kg of polished rice for his consumption only. The entire exercise yields less than a ton of rice per acre and lasts up to three days with the involvement of about six labourers. He pointed out that apart from the apparent problems with the entire process, theft is common with the grains lying on the road and sleeping here for three days was inevitable if he had to ensure food on the plate until the next harvest.
Rice harvesters should be a boon in this situation; they are able to harvest vast patches of land with relative ease. Completing the entire cycle listed above in a matter of hours and gives much better yields than the manual process. So, why the resistance?
1. Size of farms: Most farmers like Mr. Jagan Nath have very small land holdings, sometimes so small that a large harvesting machine can’t even move inside the field.
2. Labor: Most of the labor that works in these farms is the family themselves. If they don’t work here, they have nothing else to do. Also, considering the size of these farms, the revenue generated is probably not sufficient to pay for outside labor anyway.
3. Resistance to change: There is a massive risk from experimenting with the small amounts of rice these farmers get; any fluctuations can spell doom to these families.
These challenges throw up a large and demanding market for young innovators to create solutions that cater to the needs of the small and marginal farmer to help him spend his nights in his home rather than on the road, anxious for food and life.
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Business at the Base of the Pyramid – My First Experience with Indian Emerging Markets

Posted on February 17, 2012 by Ankit Tulysan
There has been a lot of buzz over the past couple of years about emerging markets in developing countries with India being a favorite destination. With the gradual realization of the need to leverage market forces to alleviate poverty and the theme of social entrepreneurship as an effective cure to some of the world’s ailments, I received an opportunity to experience this wave of change through a new fellowship program – The Piramal Fellowship for Sustainable Business.

Already bitten by the insect of change, it took me no time to decide to leave my original path, as a Chemical Engineer working at Thermax (one of the most respected corporations of India), and board this train to begin a journey of change.

On Dec 1st 2011, I joined Sarvajal which operates a rural franchising model to provide accessible and affordable (30 Paisa/Litre), pure drinking water to all. Operating 125 franchises in four states, and serving 70,000 customers, Sarvajal was gearing up to multiply the numbers and I wanted to serve as a direct catalyst to the fuelling reaction.

During my first field visits, I went to see one of our franchisees in a village called “Choti Pacheri,”  about 20 km from the Copper Khetri mines, and joined  Praveen one of our FRM (Franchisee Relationship Management) executives for a door to door campaign to spread the word about our “Customer Referral Scheme” – a new initiative for increasing customers.

I was taken aback when I saw, at one of the households, a woman using the traditional chullah (stove with no ventilation).  She is a loyal Sarvajal customer, paying six rupees every day for a bottle of water. A thousand thoughts ran through my mind. Though I have not kept track, I am sure that out of nearly 20 families I interacted with by the end of that day, almost half of them were using the same chullahs. Although many of the villagers were wearing no “chappals” (sandals), they had decent mobile phones and were buying Sarvajal water.

During one of our sales workshops organized exclusively to train our Franchisee Building Team, we split up and went into talukas/villages of the Tonk district of Rajasthan. The geography was completely new to us and each team had the target to create at least two franchises in their respective regions by end of the workshop in five days.

A typical Sarvajal franchisee is relatively well off compared to other people in his community as he has to have borewell, space for keeping our machine and he has to make certain financial commitments before he starts earning a profit.

We soon learned that however rich a person may be, he will still takes his own time to believe in you, your sales pitch, and then buy into the concept. Although there were no perfect conversions, there were some interesting observations that emerged out of the sales workshop:

• Customers who have a high capital/resource stake requirement should come to you rather than you going to them. Earning their trust is neither easy nor economical.

• One man I encountered told me “brother, in this market you find both good and bad people. I know you are doing good but unfortunately, I can’t trust you. This was an eye opener for all of us working with an organization trying to do good work.  Since they have been cheated before, it’s a simple “Once Bitten Twice Shy” theory which applies.

• For a new business, a good way to deal with this trust problem, especially in new geographies, is to create strong relationships. Cold calling is an effective tool only if you spend a considerable amount of time showing the value proposition and giving right amount of settling time. It’s important to remember not to wait for too long to follow-up or else the new relationship may sour.

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From Cyber City to Reality…

Posted on February 13, 2012 by Avantika Dhingra
Have you ever felt that you’re running away from your ‘true calling?’  Questioned the path that you’re on and wondered if this is really what you set out to do? Found yourself running after time, suddenly realizing that you don’t have the luxury to sit back and wait? Well, these were some of the questions that went through my mind when I took the big leap and shifted to a social enterprise, from a fantastically well-cushioned corporate job!

Gurgaon is said to have it all, often described as the ‘millennium city’ …  The high rise buildings, state of the art architecture with snazzy glasswork, some 26 malls, seven golf courses, women in their best foot wear, businessmen looking as though they have come right out of ‘men in black’ and basically, the works!

Everybody has their own little space in these mammoth glass chambers. I had my tiny space in a building called ‘Cyber City’ and yes, it is as fancy as it sounds! One NYTimes article called it “a futuristic commercial hub housing many of the world’s most respected corporations.”  That was me…a tiny dot in the 2 lac something working population in Gurgaon and the so called respected corporations!

I worked for a Danish company, with a work force of close to 17000 people and around 325 offices in 125 countries; global in every sense of the word. Had the privilege of understanding the inner workings of a multi national, the values they set for themselves, the vision and goals that they strive to achieve and the very fabric that defines who they are.
Lets take a breather here and let me take you to the other side of town.

Lado Sarai, also referred to as the Lado Sadai ‘village,’ is situated behind a multi storied fashion accessories mall. My office doesn’t really have a landmark of its own, so we borrow it from our neighbor, Punjab National Bank, which everyone seems to be very familiar with in the neighborhood.

I work for an Indian organization, with a core team of 5 individuals including the CEO, it’s a start up in every sense of the word!

I’ve been here for about three weeks now and it’s been, for lack of better words, different! It’s the small things that take a while to get used to. I remember calling a friend back in my old office and overhearing chatter and realizing how much I miss ‘noise’ in the office. I miss not seeing people around me. I miss not having a food court or a half decent restaurant around my office offering options beyond home food. I miss the little gossip sessions at our lunch table in the cafeteria. I miss celebrating festivals, birthdays, and milestones… I miss celebrations!

But here’s what I don’t miss. I don’t miss the feeling of nothingness when I come back home everyday. I don’t miss the constant questioning (although that is something I highly recommend). I don’t miss counting the number of days to my birthday thinking how another year has passed, and I definitely don’t miss New Years Eve where I sat down to make those resolutions … yet again!

This is as ‘real’ as it gets for me.  I work with an enterprise that works to create a market for rural based craftsmen and artisans thereby generating livelihood for them. One can debate the ‘social’ aspect for hours together but I believe in the cause we’re working for, and for once, I believe that the work I do will make a difference. I was having a little chat with my CEO the other day, who is an IIM graduate, worked with two multinationals and has now chosen this unconventional path. I asked her what motivates her to come to work everyday and she said one word that pretty much summed it up for me… ‘PRIDE.’

Well, seeing a container with a seven-pointed blue star, in the wee hours of the night, still puts a smile on my face. I am nostalgic about the four years I gave to my previous organization and I hope to never look back on a day with regret. As of now though, I wish to experience the same sense of pride and feel comforted in the shadow of ‘the tree.’

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Fighting for Food Justice from an Office?

Posted on February 13, 2012 by Sumita Mitra
All of us have unique reasons for choosing this fellowship. Some of us came from structured corporate jobs and felt like something was missing. Others felt like it was was time for a change. I didn’t come from either of these backgrounds; in fact quite the opposite. For the last year I was living in a small Rajasthani village teaching theater and music for social change. I had spent my year molding myself into the village life, learning how to solve problems with minimal resources and living as simply as possible.

While the transition to a more structured work environment seems pretty normal for people my age, I had worried with how different it would feel. In the village my days weren’t so structured, I barely used my computer, and I could spend hours talking to farmers about their lives. Now I spend a fair amount of time in front of my computer, outline my tasks for the day, and a develope a different sort of relationship with the farmers we work with. And while all these things are different, I’m learning that it’s not necessarily bad.

Many of my closest friends were surprised. I had greatly cherished my experience in the field, and I occasionally, all right, often express my desire to go back to the village and get milk fresh from the buffalo. As I thought about this, and the number of things that were difficult to adjust to in the city, I concluded that while I had perhaps compromised on time spent wandering the fields of India, I hadn’t compromised on my values or my passions.

In my ideal world, I see a space where farmers earn what they deserve, where they aren’t in debt from buying GM (genetically modified) seeds or synthetic chemical inputs. I see their families being healthier since they won’t have pesticides on their clothes, or under their fingernails. The farm is a hotspot of biodiversity, and technology is not to force nature to produce more but help nature produce better. But mostly, I see justice for the small farmer, for he or she is one that we rely most on and respect the least.

But it hasn’t been simple transitioning, or understanding my new role. On a trip to a village in Haryana, I thought about the changing dynamics in my interactions with the farmers. I thought of how it felt like I was creating business partnerships, because I wasn’t there long enough to create what I thought was a real relationship. However, on the ride home I realized it wasn’t so important that we became friends, but that the farmer trusted me- and that was a real relationship. He had to know I would do everything I could to ensure the successful sale of his organic produce and that I carefully understood his needs.

We have a lot of agency in how we choose to live, what we choose to do with our skills. I have a degree in econ and an obsession with food justice, and while those things might not mean much in the world it means I can still use my hands to add value to someone else’s life. And maybe I am far away from the farmers I serve, but that doesn’t mean I have to live with less intensity, integrity, or willingness to learn.

I suppose one thing about the village was that I could immediately see the fruits of my interactions, and I would go to bed after a day of seeing smiles on faces or being called “Didi” (older sister). Being far away makes that difficult. But I’m wondering if it’s not so much  where I am, but who I am being and what I do that is the most important. The memory of the the farmers from my previous village drives me. It is their stories I hold close as I write this blogpost, call paper bag suppliers, or finalize warehouse operations. The lessons I learned from my previous year, being fearless, trying new things, forcing myself out of my comfort zone has made the transition to sitting behind a computer easier. And when I am in the field, I will continue to want to hold babies, let the women tease me about my unmarried status, and not be afraid to get my hands in some cow dung.

I suppose the biggest thing for me right now is to constantly remind myself of the why behind it all. When I look at the big picture, and the end goal being poverty eradication it makes things much much simpler. Even transitioning from khadi kurtas to business suits, or from avoiding runaway buffalos to avoiding crazy rickshaw drivers. And spending hours under open sky to hours in an office. But in a sense it hasn’t been some cataclysmic event as I thought it would be. Maybe I’m not at the grassroots as often anymore, but I’m only slightly higher up the blade. Somewhere in the middle where I can keep learning, fighting for rights, and using business to create my vision for a better world.

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My first day in the field.

Posted on February 13, 2012 by Joyce Jauer
I hit the ground running my first week at SMV Wheels. Amid doing the usual getting settled errands like buying bed sheets and registering with the FRRO, I selected our company ISP, updated our social media, and started building a balanced scorecard.


But yesterday was the first opportunity I had to go with one of our field officers on his collection route. We started the day with our mechanic’s workshop. I saw the workers assembling a traditional rickshaw: the detailed painting and designs on the carriage, the bolts that connect it to the chassis, and the gears that make the machine move. It was great to see the how our rickshaws are put together so that I understand how they work and what maintenance needs to be done. Having just had my bike tuned up at home, I could follow along with the braking system and construction. I was surprised to learn that it only takes 4 hours for a rickshaw to be fully assembled. I was also surprised (and at the same time, not at all surprised) to see the workshop to be in what I consider to be a disarray: some of the work was being done on a median in the middle of the road and the tools were scattered about the walls and floor. And somehow the work is done masterfully. Amazing.

Then we went on the collection route. A few weeks back we started to allow a designee to pay on behalf of our client so we travel around to their homes and someone like a wife or father provides the installment. It was great to see where our clients live and meet their families. Most of them are delighted to have a new visitor and were happy to meet me. A few wanted me to come in and see their homes. Of course there is an exception to every rule. One client’s wife was angry that we wouldn’t fix a rickshaw part that was well past its warranty; one of the staff who has since been dismissed had promised things that he couldn’t and told them our company would take care of replacing parts that the drivers should maintain themselves. This reminded me how important it is to communicate our business model and company policies effectively to our clients as well as the need to hire human resources who are honest and in the business for the right reasons. Part of my job here is perfecting our systems so that we’re ready to scale—note to self: ensure clear policies and conduct ethics case interview for new hires.

Our collections process is designed to ensure accurate reporting as well as help the client keep track of his progress. The client gives the field officer a wad of cash, which the latter then counts and makes sure is the correct amount according to that day’s collection route list. Then the field officer writes out a receipt with the expected amount, the paid amount, and the client’s name which the client (or designee) then signs. The original stays with the client, and a carbon copy stays in the receipt book. Then the field officer makes an entry on a blue installment card that shows each payment so that the client can track their progress. By the end of the day, I was accepting the cash and making the receipts myself!

On our way home in the Varanasi traffic (which is out of control, by the way) we were going very slow as a jam was clearing and I saw something that made me so thankful that I’m at SMV Wheels. There was an altercation between a rickshaw driver and a car driver. I’m not sure what caused it, but it seemed like the rickshaw driver had run into the car while trying to make a right turn across traffic. There was no visible damage to the car, but the car driver had gotten out of his vehicle and was both verbally and physically assaulting the rickshaw driver. The image is burned into my memory.

Rickshaw drivers are one of the more marginalized members of society here. They earn about Rs.250 a day. They work long days of physical labor and suffer abuse from fleet owners if they don’t own their vehicle, from police officers if they don’t have the proper licenses, and even from patrons. In the community, there is a high incidence of communicable diseases like TB and malaria as well as a high incidence of HIV/AIDS; they suffer from malnutrition, tobacco addiction, and alcoholism. Perhaps this rickshaw driver was at fault, but he was half the size of the car driver, who looked like he had had a few too many doses of protein powder and muscle milk, was wearing designer western clothes, and had drove his own vehicle. The power imbalance was striking.

One of the things that attracted me to the company was the vision to not only increase the livelihoods of these folks but also give them dignity as well. Just like anyone, I can imagine how asset ownership could provide as sense of pride, but now I get to see it. Our clients are so happy to have their *own* vehicle that they can take home with them at the end of the day and decorate as they like. Usually, they return the rickshaw to a fleet owner and pay a daily rental fee that cuts into their earnings. SMV’s clients pay a little bit more than what the daily rental fee would be with a fleet owner but with the ability to have their own asset at the end of their 54 weekly installments. I’ve had our clients stop me in the street to say hello and show me their rickshaw. I can’t wait to see delivery day—our workshop partner says they are so excited. Sometimes they bring their whole family or bring treats or go to temple straight after to give thanks. Something to look forward to!

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Changing the world, one young entrepreneur at a time.

Posted on December 6, 2011 by Bhavna Toor

One out of every 2 Indians today is under the age of 25. Most agree that this is a good thing. Some express concern over whether the country will be able to create enough opportunities for the 200 million+ young men and women that will be graduating from college over the next 10 – 15 years. But, very few acknowledge the power of the youth to create their own opportunities. The youth, after-all, does not just consist of passive actors waiting for the society to absorb them or to hand them opportunities on a platter. They are powerful change-agents in their own right with the ability to shape and reshape the world around them according to their hopes and dreams, and their vision of a world that they would like to live in and lead in.

The biggest drivers of progress in any society are entrepreneurship and innovation. Over the past year, as I have been traveling the length and breadth of the country, interacting with the youth, I am finding more and more young people infused with an entrepreneurial spirit. What is especially beautiful and awe-inspiring is that they are using their entrepreneurial drive and moral imagination to come up with powerful solutions for a whole host of social problems.

Look at Sandeep Mehto, for instance. He saw that in the district that he belongs to – Hoshandabad, in Madhya Pradesh, 90% of the people live below the poverty line, the literacy rate is as low 40%, and of the handful that do complete their schooling, most drop out and never go to college. Grateful that he was the first person in his family to go beyond primary school; in fact, he went on to get a masters degree in social enterprise from the Tata Institute of Social Sciences, he formed a vision to see to it that every child has the opportunity to access higher education, if that is what he or she desires. He started a venture called Bharat Calling, through which he is working in the tribal areas of Madhya Pradesh to train, support and mentor students to pursue higher education. If that means he has to travel 300 kilometers to accompany a student that needs to take an entrance exam, and sleep on the railway platform while he waits, so be it. That’s the level of his commitment. Just over a year into operation, he has already helped over 50 students, a majority of whom are girls, from the poorest parts of Madhya Pradesh, go to some of the top universities in India.

The great thing about the current young generation in India is that they grew up in an India that was already well on its way to making economic progress. Their vision for India, therefore, is remarkably different from the generations prior because they are not constrained by India’s past. They have no memory of it! Where others see failures, they see new possibilities. Where others feel resignation, they feel hope. Where others are trapped in old beliefs and systems, they are willing to try something new. Where others see differences, they see oneness. They don’t accept the inequalities that they see around them as a given. The model of development that they embrace is one of inclusive growth, where no one gets left behind.

India is home to the world’s largest population of street children, estimated at well over 11 million. India is also home to over 20 million orphans, that’s almost half of all children under 12 years old. These children need love and attention just as much as any child would, but most would be happy if someone were to just call them by their name. At the same time, there is a significant population of the elderly in the country that, after having retired, does not feel as useful in society anymore. Shyamali Rathore had a brilliant idea. How about you bring the two groups together, and have them engage in a simple activity – planting a tree, which is then named after the child. This is what we call a win-win-win situation. The child feels special, the elderly feel significant again, and the environment benefits. It’s a simple idea, perhaps so simple it could only come from a young heart. But then again, there always is great power in simplicity.

In fact, it’s all the more reason to empower young people to run with their ideas because when you’re young you naturally dream big, you are more willing to take risks, to try something new, and to embrace change. Armed with endless energy, enthusiasm and optimism, you find it in you to make things happen. And, once you set a precedent for taking charge when you’re young, you create a strong foundation upon which to lead for the rest of your life, because the conviction and confidence that you have the power to change the world never leaves you, and you draw upon it again and again and again.

What would you expect an engineering graduate from IIT, which is widely believed to be one of the most highly acclaimed universities in India, indeed in the world, to do? A) Get a lucrative job at a large multinational company – in banking or IT, B) Get a high ranking position with the government, or how about, C) Set aside all options to go work, live, eat and sleep among farmers in one of the most poorest states in the country. I am sure you would agree that C is the most unlikely choice, but C is exactly the choice that two brave young men made.

Meet Shashank Kumar- an IIT Delhi Graduate and Manish Kumar– an IIT Kharagpur graduate. The two became friends while preparing for the IIT entrance exams. Both harbored an overwhelming desire to do something meaningful for a long time, and when the time came, they joined hands to form an organization to help improve the productivity of small and marginal farmers in Bihar. They knew absolutely nothing about agriculture, but that didn’t stop them. They put together a board of agricultural experts from around the country to help them. At first the villagers laughed at them. They thought these kids must not have anything better to do with their life; that is why they have come back to the village, but no one was laughing when using the tools and methods they recommended the farmers started experiencing a 4-fold increase in productivity and profitability. Today, they are working in 8 districts and 25 villages in Bihar with up to 1000 farmers, helping them with everything from better production techniques to marketing their produce.

These are just 3 examples. There are 100s of Manishs, Shashanks, Shyamali’s and Sandeep’s in the making all over the country. What they all share is a burning passion to make a difference. What they all need to succeed is the support of parents that will encourage alternative career paths, teachers that will nurture their creativity and give them the relevant tools to remake the world, mentors that will guide them, friends that will join hand with them and a society that will make space for them as change-agents and leaders. The young population of India is indeed the greatest wealth it has. If we can give them wings, there really is no problem too great, and no force too large that a young heart on a mission cannot conquer.

So, if you have a young heart that is telling you that you too can change the world in your own unique way, please raise your hand, speak up, stand up, step forward, and take action. The world needs you to.

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Leadership lessons from the Ground

Posted on October 8, 2011 by Nowfal Khadar

It’s been quite an intense and challenging journey over the last one year. Looking back at half time, I realize that I’ve learnt three important leadership lessons amidst the intense challenges.

The first lesson is to lead by example even when it isn’t quite possible literally! Allow me to explain.
From simple duties to complex tasks, I’ve always believed that leaders ought to lead by example. That one must set the benchmark by performances worthy of emulation. You know, like the captain of a cricket team – if you want your teammates to catch hold of difficult catches, then set an example by taking any difficult ones that come your way. And so it is at the work place, isn’t it? When a supervisor proves that the task assigned is something she can not just perform, but also perform better, one is left with no choice but to strive to meet her expectations and accord her due respect.

But what about when you lead a team where you can’t perform the tasks better than your team members? In the course of my fellowship, I was presented with one such instance – to improve the productivity of associates at Source for Change (SFC), the rural BPO where I’m currently based at, even though I could not even remotely match the number of forms processed by them. Heck, I could not even type as fast as the associates did. Yet, along with my colleague Shrot, we had to somehow (SOMEHOW!) convince them that they ought to improve! As we struggled, events outside of work presented a perfect analogy to my situation.

In my earlier post, I had mentioned how Shrot and I teach school kids basketball. As we continued to coach, it dawned upon me that leadership need not always be like that of the captain of a cricket team; it could also be like that of a basketball coach or a football manager. While the coach might ask you run 20 rounds and do 25 push ups, he may not even be able to manage half of that! Yet he leads by developing a strategic vision, by effectively communicating this vision to the team and by directing and guiding the team to achieve that vision. Needless to say, in areas where he can clearly lead by example, he does so such as being on time, work ethic and so on.

Lesson two is about learning to let go – when, and importantly what to let go! It is more a management lesson than a leadership lesson. However, it is an important one, not only for myself but also for the countless people who consider themselves ‘involved’ or ‘detail-oriented’ or the like.

When I gave the sales guy a detailed script to use while making/attending a sales call, I thought I was training him. In fact, even when I would hijack his calls, I still thought I was showing him how it’s done. When I instructed the intern to come to the sales fair with change in the following denominations – Rs. 100 (20 nos.), Rs. 50 (25 nos.), Rs. 10 (100 nos.) and so on till Re. 1, I thought I was paying attention to detail. But, in time I realized that none of those thoughts were right. In management lingo, they call this micro-management and if you are an entrepreneur, in startup parlance, they call it Founder’s syndrome (or Founderitis). Fortunately for me, I quickly recognized that people perform best when empowered; when given the liberty to experiment and the freedom to learn, both from their experiments and from their mistakes. I grasped that, simultaneously, managers should always be available on the sidelines for them to reach out for advice. And as people develop and nurture their own abilities and skills, they will grow from being subordinates of a manager to followers of a leader.

The third lesson is about feeling satisfied upon seeing a protégé become better than yourself at your own game. Easier said than done, I know. And even more difficult, when you’re still in the game and your protégé has gone a step above you.

My example goes back to the basketball court. When we started our coaching sessions, most of the kids could hardly dribble, let alone compete with two adults. After just over a month, I now see a 16-year-old dribble past me disdainfully, collect rebounds over me, block my shots, and match all my moves. Clearly, in a few days from now, he will outdo me hands down. Having had a small hand in his triumph, I feel proud. I realize that there always comes a time when the protégé becomes better than the mentor, and when that time comes, the mentor feels elated.

The question is will I feel the same when it happens at the workplace? I sincerely hope so!

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Life in rural India

Posted on September 8, 2011 by Nowfal Khadar


Image courtesy Images of Rajasthan

Disclaimer: Pardon any errors in spelling, grammar or vocab. I intend to blog more often from now on and so my posts will come battling dreary eyes and midnight slumbers after a long day at work and at the playground!

In the latter half of July, I moved from Delhi to Bagar, a small village in rural Rajasthan (about 200 kms away from Jaipur) for the second leg of my fellowship. This is an update on life here in the village.

Bagar, is a village of about 10,000 people and is the ancestral home of the Piramal family. It also houses their haveli, which has now converted into a Neemrana heritage hotel. I am based out of the Grassroots Development Laboratory, which was established by Indicorps and the Piramal Foundation in 2006 to seek creative ideas and solutions to some of India’s most pressing developmental challenges. The objective was to use Bagar as a rural laboratory to test scalable ideas in social development and scale them on a national level. Souce for Change, the rural BPO that I work with, grew out of one such idea.

Bagar is extremely conservative, particularly with respect to women’s development. Female infanticide is rampant, and as a result, Bagar has a shocking sex ratio of 921 girls per 1000 boys. Most women are forced to wear the purdah and are financially dependent on their husbands or fathers. In such an environment, Source for Change (which till recently was an all-women BPO), by working towards creating opportunities for these women to learn, grow, achieve financial and social freedom, is a welcome change. My role at SFC is to streamline its training and develop Human Resource management processes in order to ultimately improve the productivity and quality of our Associates.

To be frank, I was skeptical about moving to a village in the middle of nowhere, with only the most basic amenities. I wasn’t convinced even after visiting to get a firsthand glimpse into the place in the first week of July. However, I recognized that this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. I had never lived in an Indian village before (except for the brief 1-month stays every 2-3 years at my grandparents place in Kerala) and this was my one-shot at gaining an insight into life of the ‘next billion’.

Much to my surprise, life in the village has been very pleasant and enjoyable. Work has been really satisfying and interactions with people in the community very gratifying. At the work end, we’ve already developed and implemented leave policies, attendance regulations, rewards and recognition programs, re-training assessment, and are now working towards a strategic plan on ramping up to 200 seats (currently 85).

Outside of work, every day around an hour prior to sunset, my colleague Shrot & I work with Shekhawatji, the physical education teacher of the Piramal Boys School, to teach basketball to the school kids and to help form the school’s basketball team. Basketball is a sport which requires a lot of quick thinking, discipline and teamwork. These also happen to be the skills that the village kids (and some of our entry level trainees) seem to lack the most. The kids have been training and practicing for over a month now and will be participating in the upcoming district championship. Bar one, none of the kids have ever played basket ball before let alone participate in a championship. Irrespective of the championship result, we hope that the kids will apply the leadership and team work skills picked up in the court in real life situations.

I have to confess that it is still early days and things may not always be as rosy. In fact, even now life isn’t that easy. There’s a huge change in the lifestyle that one may be used to such as TVs and internet, washing machines, your own bathroom and so on at home and malls, multiplexes, fast food etc outside home. It can get extremely hot and humid, there are no ACs and frequent power cuts (about 3-5 hours everyday) mean that even fans may not give any respite. The sheer dearth of connectivity with Delhi (only local buses that take 8-10hrs to cover 200 kms ply on this route) is another point of distress and the availability of only pure vegetarian food can be unnerving for a compulsive meat eater like me. No washing machine means that you have to start getting used to washing your clothes by hand. Almost every new person you meet will ask you your caste and won’t talk to you until they are convinced you do not belong to the lower castes. It’s almost impossible to convince them that you do not have a caste!

Yet, there are advantages to any situation. While I may have driven a car for over 6 years, the feeling of owning a cycle, adding a headlight and exploring the bylanes transported me back in time to my childhood. Meat may be unavailable, but that means one can experiment with various authentic Shekhawati cuisine that one cannot get anywhere else (not even in Jaipur!) in the country.

In a nutshell, there’s been an unexpected feeling of satisfaction despite the challenges.

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