<div>Krishna Sagar heard the cheerful applause of the students of the class of 2013 as he saw their happy faces through the glare of cameras and lights. Also present were happy and proud parents, dressed in their smartest and beaming with pride. <br /><br />Synergis School of Business Studies (SSBS), where Sagar taught Law & Business Ethics, had just completed its graduation ceremony. This year the students had chosen him to deliver the convocation speech. As Sagar walked into the crowd of students, they reached for him, shook his hand and some stopped him to introduce him to their parents.<br /><br />Until he came to Punya Kundu. Sagar had always felt that with a first name like that, the lad was going to have a tough time living up to it. Punya held a deep promise which Sagar could not place his finger on. Here he was now, looking his dandiest best in a suit and a blue tie. One glance at it and Sagar knew its antecedents. Punya was wearing his maternal grandfather’s Harvard Fellow tie, a gift he chose above various other objects. This was a story he had shared with Sagar many months ago. <br /><br />As he stood there looking exceptional, Sagar winked to let him know that he had noticed the tie. Punya grinned back and said, “Sir, please meet my dad, Mr Parthiv Kundu...”<br /><br />After the initial pleasantries, when Punya had moved to another part of the hall, Parthiv said, “I heard your speech, Mr Sagar. How powerful, how grand. These words are heady. My boy thinks the world of you. I have heard his friends and him discuss even the little things you have said. Did you not once say, ‘Life is an idea...’? Oh, how they hang on to every word you speak....” <br /><br />A long pause followed. Then with tears choking his voice, he said, “But sir, should you not be giving them more practical ideas? These power talks don’t help anymore.”<br /><br />Sagar led the senior Kundu to the verandah, where tables for two were set. Alarmed as he was by the sudden emotion, he knew there was nothing he should say now, just listen to the man.<br /><br />Kundu was a DGM in a large company, a level he should have reached by 40. Today, at 56, he remained 15 years behind schedule because he was seen as ‘slow’. “And why?” He said now, “Because I always shuddered and shivered when excise records had to be altered. I always grew weak when some documents had to be doctored. But not once did they force me, not once did they threaten me. They only looked at me sadly and said, ‘Kundu <em>saab, koi baat nahin</em>.’ But I understood what that meant. Soon they stopped asking me, but it did not make my life any better. <br /><br />“This is what you get for living on the fence and being unsure of what to do. I could have resigned. But I had three children in school. I was also looking after my sister’s children, who stay with me. She is in the US, does not want them to grow in that environment... but can I take money from her to educate them? How do I leave a job? <br /><br />“Then they make my subordinate my boss. Powerful lady. She once told me, ‘Kundu, inventory must be x per cent of debtors and y per cent of sales. <em>Kaisa bhi karke</em> number <em>banao</em>.’ But I could not! My whole team was present and she yelled at me using very harsh words. I was shaken and she said, ‘Kundu, it is not enough to be an elder; you also have to be intelligent!’<br /> </div><div>break-page-break</div><div><br />“Do you know the truth? How many times I sat alone and told myself, give in to two or three crimes, do what they want, never mind... they will think well of you and living will be easier, <em>karo</em>! Maybe if my father and grandfather had not put values in my head, I might have been willing to cheat, who knows. But let this nonsense end here, <em>hanh</em>? This preoccupation with being clean.... Who is clean, sir, today? Who <em>is</em>?”<br /><br /><strong>Sagar</strong>: Please call me Krishna...<br /><br /><strong>Kundu Senior:</strong> Sagar<em> ji</em>, this boy, Punya, he came to pick me up from work one day. It was 6.45 pm. My boss was walking briskly and I was running by her side reading out some minutes and her secretary was running along on the other side with a bowl of cut fruit.... You should have seen Punya’s face. He had tears in his eyes. He said to me, ‘Baba, what is this? Is this how they treat you?’ <br /><br />“Yes, in the past 15 years I have become deadwood. I work very hard as DGM Accounts, but Punya does not know that I have been getting a paltry 3 per cent increment every year since the past seven years.<br /><br />“You will say if you have values, be prepared to have them challenged. But who are the people on whom it is taking its toll? Five children’s education, two parents, one son in b-school, and a salary that is frozen at 2007 levels! <br /><br />“My wife had to undergo hysterectomy last year. I could not afford a decent private nursing home for her; the cost would have gone through the roof. Tell me why are you telling the boys and girls about values? This IPL <em>tamasha</em>? Nice? This recruitment scam... nice? The Coalgate, Railgate... all governors of this country... nice? Was any action taken? Any resolution arrived at? My boss opens fraud companies and parks his money in <em>benaami</em> accounts... and we attach ‘Shri’ to his name? <br /><br /><img width="200" vspace="8" hspace="8" height="200" align="right" alt="" src="/image/image_gallery?uuid=3476faa1-7169-4303-bf60-c4625811267d&groupId=222852&t=1373703534232" />“You look left or right, there are lies. And these lies are all in hundreds of crores. This is the world the young are entering. If tomorrow my son has a boss who tells him to inflate invoices and increase top line, why should he not do it? Whereas, the poor fellow will think, ‘Sagar ji taught me to be clean and honest.’ But how will he live, Sagar ji? My days were different. When I was Punya’s age, there was hardly any consumer items available in India. We were happy with our Campa Cola. Today, a fancy Nexus phone costs Rs 65,000! My colleagues and their wives are often on Page 3. They are highly respected at work! The whole paradigm of respect has changed! So then, what is Punya’s future going to be like?<br /><br />“I am not sure if I can give Punya the guidance to practice the values I followed; I don’t even know if that will be a recipe for failure!<br /><br />“It is very easy to romanticise life and make it all look like a day in the life of Bill Gates. Real things happen where you work, not where you study. In a classroom of a business school all this is great because they don’t know any better!”<br /><br />Later that evening, Sagar was dining with his school principal and members of its governing body. David had been the headmaster when Sagar was in high school and he had worshipped the ground David walked on. Today, many years later, Sagar was on the governing body. David, now 76, did not miss the strain on Sagar’s face. “What happened?” he asked.<br /><br /><strong>Sagar</strong>: Grappling with the quintessential question of what worth our education is. Somehow it keeps coming back to stare me in the face.<br /><br /><strong>David</strong>: So it does, does it not? A few days ago it was reported that a 13-year-old boy was kidnapped and killed by his own cousins, MBAs, for ransom. They had lost Rs 30 lakh in IPL betting and now needed to pay up the bookies. <br /><br />“It is staring me in the face too, Krishna. I have to keep finding new vocabulary to discuss this with curious students and frightened parents. And what makes this completely insane is the society we live in, where the genesis of a problem is not even understood by the grown-ups!”<br /><br /><strong>Sagar</strong>: And that would be?<br /><br /><strong>David:</strong> You tell me, Krishna. Why are these parents tugging at my sleeve? Just because the little boy was a school goer? <br /><br />Just because the two MBA cousins were defined by their education and not by their ignorance? That night, a reputed news anchor had been foolish enough to ask, ‘Why are educated urban youth resorting to crime?’ This is what I mean. And I would like to ask: is this a doing of education or is this because there is no real education?<br /> </div><div>break-page-break</div><div><br /><strong>Sagar</strong>: We use our words so poorly. We don’t even know what education is, yet we apply it to everything where teaching involves a taught. Going by the news anchor’s query, the B-school, the college and the school where the cousins studied, must be taken to task for failing to educate. As my marketing partner would say, the product did not deliver.<br /><br />David laughed. Then on a serious note, he said, “I would say, confusion regarding the purpose of education is the main reason why we see the problems we see in society today. I don’t think anyone has thought about this. Not the parents who rush like manics to enrol their kids, not the students, of course, and often not even the teachers who choose teaching as their career. Can any one of them tell me why they teach, study or seek education for their child? Ask your marketing friend — why is this product being bought, sought, or taught?<br /><br />“I don’t understand, for finally all that we are doing is just teaching skills, isn’t it?” <br /><br /><strong>Sagar</strong> (<em>completely taken aback</em>): How right! Therefore, what Kundu Senior was trying to say is, if you have spent 12+ 4 + 2 years teaching skills and only skills, then what the student can bring forth as an outcome can only be skills. During Kundu’s time, his 16 years had a huge portion of values, and Sunday school in some cases. Today, it is completely skills. This will manifest as the skill of manoeuvring; the skill to twist laws, systems, and people; to extract for yourself what you want. I think he was telling me, let us not get too serious about values...<br /><br /><strong>David</strong>: Who Mr Kundu? What is this about? Sorry, you have lost me.<br /><br /><strong>Sagar</strong>: Oh, sorry. I imagined I had told you. Parthiv Kundu is the father of one of my students of the 2013 batch, Punya. He was at his graduation ceremony. There was much merry making and joy all around. The world looked awesome and everything held promise, every sin was forgivable, and life was good. But through the curtain of this joy Kundu Senior stood out as the only spot of unhappiness. And Kundu Senior said to me, ‘I heard your speech, how grand, how powerful. But these powerful words mislead, are pointlessly romantic...’ The word he used was ‘heady’.<br /><br />“The father felt he should not hold his son to a set of values which he has found does not work. And he told me about his life, which was very painful to hear, especially because he is such a mild-mannered person. He told me about his lifelong career spent chasing paper moons; where the smart guy got off easily by bending and breaking rules, and thus getting into his boss’s good books. Mr Kundu slowly receded to the background where resided dull men in dull clothing, with dull expressions, who carried lunch to work so that they can continue to work even while eating... <br /><br />“Kundu never broke the law, never bent a rule... never got his promotions. His wife never wore expensive silk. He found his peace being member or president or secretary of silly residents’ welfare societies, where he was useful for keeping that eye on the penny.<br /><br />“Kundu, therefore, wondered why hold his son to values if they would never let the lad see greatness, success, acceptance, or the happiness of being valued?” <br /><br /><strong>David</strong>: Not any different from the news anchor who says why are urban youth taking to crime. And your Kundu is saying, ‘The same education sees one chap fixing a cricket match, another shielding a match fixer, another selling insider team information and all of them ‘successful’? <em>Hanh</em>? So why should Punya be held to a value-based behaviour?’ <br /><br /><strong>Sagar</strong>: So what would you tell Punya? <br /><br /><strong>David </strong>(after a long pause): I would say, as I have on some occasions, to students… You can make a lot of money — it comes when you do what is needed. Everyone around you will be doing so.<br /><br />“But for a moment fast forward 20-30 years. You will be married, will have adult children of your own. What would you say to them? What would you wish for them? ‘Be happy doing what everyone is doing’? What ground would you like for them to stand on? In fact, the children of the future are watching us; we don’t know it, but they are. They are watching to see how we live. They watch with open, knowing eyes, somewhat sceptical, somewhat cynical. They have seen too much.. They have seen people living mostly the same way, lying, cheating, bending the truth, not only at work but at home too. They watch with little hope. What will you offer these eyes, these children?<br /><br />“And there will be temptations galore. People will call you staid, foolish and stuck up if you do not do what they are doing. At school, we live with hope. One day, now or in the future, the many things we have discussed, the many uncomfortable questions we gave shared, will resonate and give you strength to hold your head high. You will be able to return the gaze of the children with a serene look, with a gaze of a human being who is called ‘good’.<br /><br />“I wish you nothing more, and those who will gather around you will see your shining spirit and not the brand of your clothes. And you would have offered your children one firm piece of ground to stand on in a sea of quicksand. Fond wishes for your journey.”<br /><br />David stood with the distant look of one who has travelled miles. Then he said, “To Mr Kundu, my question is, where is the affection that adults are supposed to have for their young? Isn’t one of the signs of connection between generations care for the next generation? Is that care there? Have we any love for the young? If we did, would we dither? Would we not engage with them, engage with their struggle? Or would we give in to paltry material gains and give up values? Engage with Punya, Mr Kundu — in the sharing may be some courage would gather and also some clarity!” <br /><br /><strong>To be continued</strong><br /><br />casestudymeera(at)gmail(dot)com<br /><em>Read Businessworld case studies on Facebook </em><br /><br />(This story was published in BW | Businessworld Issue Dated 29-07-2013)</div>
