Have a good evening, Mr. Dey.” This simple line transformed my mood. It was such a surprise that the rest of my evening actually did get better. I was disembarking from an Indigo flight at the Kannur airport, and a smiling air hostess wished ME well. It was not a generic wish, she remembered my name and wished me well. I have experienced this level of personalised attention in hotels on rare occasions. When entering the lobby, I have been greeted by name and wondered, “How do they do it?” Never before have I been offered a personalised goodbye, when getting off an aircraft.
A few days later, I was greeted late at night with a welcoming smile at Aster Hospital. “This room, sir…” the nurse said as we entered the 7th floor of Wayanad Institute of Medical Science, which now held us with the ease of familiarity. We had been going there regularly for the last few months, and as a result, they knew us.
To be known is a gift. I remind myself, “make the effort to know another,” it is important. I am not very good at remembering names, and yet when an air hostess remembered my name, it made such a difference to my experience. After we were settled into the room, I went out to find the nurse who greeted us with a smile and found out her name. This time, I wrote it down, so that even if I forget, I will be able to remember and thank her by name.
Knowing another is less about ‘doing’ but involves a lot of ‘being’. Being present. Not offering advice. Not trying to fix. Just being.
This lovely conversation between Pooh and Eeyore comes to mind.
Eeyore: “I’m not much good today, Pooh.”
Pooh: “That’s all right, Eeyore,” said Pooh gently. “Some days aren’t meant for being much good. They’re just meant for being.”
Eeyore sighed.
“It’s just that everything feels a bit heavier than usual.”
Pooh nodded thoughtfully.
“Then I shall stand here and help you carry it,” he said.
Eeyore blinked, surprised.
“You can’t see it, Pooh. It’s not that sort of heavy.”
“I know,” said Pooh. “But sometimes, even invisible things feel a little lighter when someone’s beside you.”
Eeyore looked at him for a long moment, and then — very quietly — said,
“Thank you, Pooh.”
Pooh smiled.
“You don’t have to thank me, Eeyore. That’s what friends do — they stay, even when they can’t fix the weather.”
Raghav Verma and Arun Anand (names changed) are two clients with whom I showed up in this way, (when the firms they led were going through a crisis). Not to say the doing is unimportant, it was why they hired me. But over 20 years later, I remember what it felt like to be there with them in their moment of crisis.
I still remember standing alongside Raghav in knee-deep water with my pants rolled up and a handkerchief tied over my mouth, as he surveyed the damage fire had done to his office. I did not need to be there to issue press statements and manage the deluge of incoming media queries. I chose to be there because I knew how hard it must have been for him, and I wanted to offer my support. My presence mattered.
Similarly, I remember many shared late-night meals with Arun and some weekend ones too. The crisis he was fighting required him to have parachuted into India from another country, and he was away from his family, dealing with a crisis. I felt it would be nice for him to have company for some of his meals. Over 20 years later, we remain connected. There are many other clients for whom I have delivered exemplary crisis communications support. Some of those I am not in touch with, and on reflection, it’s the being, doing combination that truly creates long-term bonds and delivers more than transactional value.
“Don’t search for the good in others, search for the good in yourself, and I will find it in them and in me ” is the wisdom that shows itself to me in this moment.
Moral of my story? Show up. Be present. “What can I achieve by going there?” Or “There is not much more I can do.” These are excuses I have given myself for not showing up when I should have.
To quote Jiddu Krishnamurti, “Life does not ask for explanations; it asks for presence.” Here is me reminding myself – often, just being there is enough.
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