I won’t claim that I am always on time now—that would be dishonest. But I do try to be on time, and whenever possible, I try to arrive before time. Not out of fear or formality, but out of respect—for people, for commitments, and for the responsibility attached to them.
That shift didn’t come from a rulebook or a degree. It came from being corrected, from being trusted, and from realizing that small habits decide whether people take you seriously in the long run.
Many of the people I worked with were in their 50s and 60s. The Chief Vice Chairman of our cooperative society was 67 years old. Despite being senior in age and experience, he would call me “Beta”—son. Not because of hierarchy, but because of mutual respect.
That respect, however, wasn’t soft or symbolic.
There were days he openly scolded me.
Sometimes he would say, “Tum nahi samajhta hai” — you don’t understand. Other times, when I arrived late after he was already present, he would say, “Time ka paband nahi hai tumko. Aise zindagi nahi chalega.” (You are not disciplined about time. Life won’t work like this.)
At that point in my life, I often brushed these words off as frustration or generational ranting. I listened—but I didn’t fully absorb them.
That changed when responsibility stopped being informal and became official.
When Time Became Real
One day, I had a meeting regarding the work progress report and the absence of a mandi or haat bazaar in the Patna block region. The meeting involved:
- A state minister
- An IAS officer
- Several block-level officers
- And me
I was prepared—but I was late.
The minister waited for me, knowing I was the youngest and most junior among representatives from over 534 cooperative societies. When I arrived, he asked how I came, whether everything was fine, and then the discussion began.
What followed was a one-on-one conversation—me, the minister, an IAS officer, and a few senior officials—discussing ground realities, farmer access, and systemic gaps. For someone of my age and background, the responsibility felt heavier than any title.
After the meeting concluded, the minister said something I will never forget. I don’t remember his exact words, but he quoted a line that immediately took me back to my school days:
“उठ जाग मुसाफ़िर भोर भयो, अब रैन कहाँ जो सोवत है। जो जागत है सो पावत है, जो सोवत है सो खोवत है॥”
I had recited this poem every Thursday in school. Back then, it was routine—mechanical and empty.
That day, I understood its depth for the first time.
Only then did I fully understand what the Chief Vice Chairman had been trying to teach me—not through lectures, but through insistence.
Time discipline. Accountability. Respect for others’ presence.
These aren’t motivational quotes. They are operational principles.
No degree, syllabus, or classroom truly prepares you for:
- Being answerable to people older and more experienced than you
- Representing real stakeholders
- Understanding that delays don’t just waste time—they waste trust
The mutual respect I shared with senior farmers wasn’t automatic. It grew because:
- I listened when corrected
- I didn’t misuse authority
- I learned when to speak—and when to stay silent
Slowly, the same words that once felt harsh began to feel necessary.
Learning Responsibility Before Titles: My Ground-Level Experience
Long before I had formal corporate exposure, I learned what responsibility, execution, and decision-making actually meant—on the ground.
In 2017, during the initial setup phase of the Patna Sadar Primary Vegetable Growers and Producers Cooperative Society, I held no official designation. I was simply helping someone I knew—the then chairman—using whatever skills, documentation ability, and access I had. That support gradually turned into ownership-level responsibility.
My early contribution focused on documentation and policy-making. I drafted model bylaws that were eventually adopted across 534 cooperative societies in Bihar. At the time, many of these societies had no structured leadership. Several chairmen were farmers with limited exposure to governance or compliance. I helped translate policy into something practical and executable.
That was my first exposure to something no degree teaches easily: building systems from scratch.
Pricing, Demand, and Loss Management — Decisions with Real Consequences
One of my core responsibilities was pricing and sales strategy. This wasn’t theoretical—it was daily, real-time decision-making.
Every morning, informal distribution and marketing teams collected market prices late at night and early morning. Based on this data, I had to set prices that were:
- Lower than the market (to benefit consumers)
- Profitable overall (to sustain the cooperative)
- Attractive enough for farmers to prefer us over brokers
This often required cross-subsidizing losses.
If brinjal allowed margin flexibility, it covered losses on potatoes. This taught me early lessons in portfolio thinking, margin balancing, and pricing psychology—what recruiters later call business acumen.
Supply, Trust, and Farmer Enablement
Beyond pricing, my responsibility was ensuring vegetables were sourced in the right quantity, at the right time, and at the right price—so farmers earned fair profits while the society remained viable.
I had to understand:
- Which farmer grew which crop
- Soil suitability
- Regional yield patterns
When farmers grew crops unsuitable for their land, we encouraged alternatives—cash crops like lettuce, garlic, mustard, cereals, seed production, or polyfarming.
Where I lacked expertise, I arranged workshops and training sessions. Farmers were also supported with seeds, fertilizers, and inputs, reducing dependency on brokers.
Some of the most knowledgeable people were senior farmers. One vice chairman regularly produced potatoes weighing 400–500 grams per piece and onions close to 300 grams, not as exceptions, but as norms.
That taught me one of the most important lessons of leadership:
Leadership isn’t about knowing more—it’s about listening better.
Communicating Across Gaps
Communication wasn’t always easy. I’m not fully comfortable translating complex ideas entirely into Hindi without using English terms like corporate, exposure, operations, or strategy.
Yet, the farmers met me halfway.
They tried to understand me, and I tried to understand them. Respect wasn’t earned through position—it was earned through how people were treated.
That kind of trust doesn’t come from degrees or classrooms.
Stepping into Formal Responsibility
On 2nd December 2023, my role became official. Responsibility shifted from execution to accountability.
I handled:
- NPA cases of members
- Coordination with cooperative banks
- Participation in state-level seminars
- Translating government initiatives into ground-level outcomes
By then, I wasn’t learning what leadership looked like—I was already practicing it.
Why This Matters
None of this came from a textbook. None of it required a corporate title. But all of it demanded judgment, adaptability, and ownership.
I don’t claim extensive corporate or big-tech exposure yet. I expect that to come.
But what I do bring to the table is execution under constraint, decision-making with consequences, and the ability to learn fast in unfamiliar environments.
And that’s the core idea of this blog:
Degrees open doors. Skills decide who stays.