The young man descended the last stair of the Integrity House, the corporate office of Mosfet Technologies, an integrated chips manufacturing company. As soon as he stepped onto the majestic hall, he pulled out the tie and unbuttoned the tight shirt around his neck. During the long descend, he had shed the suit, the wrist buttons, the pocket square and the necktie, one by one. These accessories were the luxuries that were limited only to the company’s executives who could take the elevator meant for the top management and then get into the sedans.  But he was neither an executive anymore nor could he take the elevator. The 26-year-old, well-educated and thoughtful Ojh Sharma, the Chief Technology Officer, the successor-apparent of the renowned company, had impulsively left the board meeting halfway, no longer able to take the humiliation that his family was being subjected to. With each passing floor, he was realising that the elevator, the building, the sedans, all that had been built by his father and others over the years, had become estranged to him, and slowly, a symbol of distaste. Just like most of the members in the board meeting.

The ground floor where he was now standing, also reminded him that he had been grounded by the very people of the company whom Kanchanlal Sharma, his father, had taken to glorious heights, safely navigating them through their highs and lows, through his generosity and kindness. The usually smart, confident, dynamic Ojh was walking rather slowly towards the fire exit, his shoulders drooped, avoiding the normal exit gate of the hall, as if he was hiding his face, wishing that no person would see him. He was walking with a heavy heart, with all the insults thrown at him and his family at the board meeting, echoing in his mind loudly. The board meeting that had been convened to decide the company’s future course after the sudden demise of Ojh’s father, had turned hostile towards the Sharma family – the owner of the major stake in the company. Ojh could not come to terms with the pre-planned collusion between the company’s top management and board members to push their agenda of selling the company, of taking the company public. They had camouflaged the vile intention with the talks on how Kanchanlal Sharma wanted to make personal and family gains rather than growing the company. Ojh, 26, quite new to the business side of the matters, had faced abuse from some of the members, which too, he felt, was planned. But the knockout punch that had made him leave the meeting abruptly, was delivered by the company’s CFO, who claimed ‘Sharma family’s greed to get rich was pulling down company’s growth.’ “They are crabs, and this CTO, this small boy Sharma, is not the crown prince, but the crown crab!”, he had yelled. The disgustful sight of many members nodding their heads vehemently at the CFO’s words had made Ojh close his eyes and leave the meeting. And leave the company. His father’s company. His company.

Ojh looked at the Integrity House for one last time. He bowed down to the enterprise that had given his father the solace of achievement; and a happy, satisfied livelihood to about four thousand employees. Tears in his eyes, he bowed again, maybe this time to his father who really was this enterprise, and whose dreams and ambitions Ojh would be failing to fulfill. He slowly found his way out.

***

“Hey young man, are you okay? Did I hurt you?” Ojh heard a loud, but caring voice from a man hastily stepping out of his car, extending his hand for Ojh to hold and get up. Ojh had been hit by the corner of the car, which was incidentally, driving in an opposite direction.

“I am very sorry brother; hope you are okay!” the man continued. As he pulled Ojh up, he started inspecting Ojh’s left hand and shoulder, to see if Ojh was hurt by the mishap. Realising and giving a sigh of relief that Ojh was okay, the man afforded to make the situation light. “Sorry brother, roads under construction, and I am forced to drive from opposite direction. That’s how bad luck piled up for you and you got grounded!”

Though Ojh felt the warmth radiating from the man’s words, the feeling was cut by the last words that had struck Ojh’s mind like a lightening. ‘Bad luck has grounded you!’ as Ojh replayed those words in mind, he felt he was being painfully reminded yet again that he was trapped in the clutters of misery. Trying to regain his composure, he looked at the man from the corner of his eye and uttered, “I am fine; it’s bit of my fault as well, I have been walking without looking ahead properly.” For the second time in a span of few moments, Ojh again felt the jolt, realising what he had just said. Am I not seeing what lies ahead, he thought.

“It’s okay, friend; looking ahead is an art and even the greatest of people are yet to perfect that art!” Bending down, the man handed Ojh his i-card, which had fallen from his pocket. “Here, please take your ID card,” saying so, the man stopped at what he saw on the ID card he had just rolled over. “Ojh Sharma, Chief Technology Officer, Mosfet Technologies! Well, well! I am speaking to a fine young man, the C… T... O… of a big, respected corporate! Wow!” He extended his hand, this time for a handshake.

Ojh had raised his head for the first time after falling, to have an eye contact with the man. Ojh was in for a pleasant surprise as soon as he looked at the man. “Hey, Amogh Sir, it’s me, Ojh, your student from the Model School!”

Now it was the man’s turn to be pleasantly surprised. “Oh, great, it’s you, Ojh Sharma! You have grown up and how nicely!” he exclaimed. “Good to see my student as a Chief Technology Officer!”

Ojh felt that Amogh, with a smiling face and positive words, was providing the much-needed comfort. Though it was a cloudy sky, Amogh’s mere presence seemed to be radiating the much-needed warmth.

Fate often gifts a person with a treasure of warmth as a souvenir for facing and overcoming all the hardships that the person is made to go through. Amogh was one such man who had developed the warmth of kindness and hope, despite all the difficulties, all the torment that he had faced in his life. Now, at 45, ripe with life-experiences, the calm and composed personality of Amogh was on a mission to spread that kindness and hope in all possible directions.

Being appreciated for the first time in the day, Ojh felt good, especially in the company of his schoolteacher. But Ojh felt good only for a moment. Harsh reality made him to do the necessary corrections. “Ex-CTO… in fact, ex-employee, Mosfet Technologies.” Ojh somehow tried to find courage to express his grief in the friendly ambience.

When a man has created an amiable, honest environment through his behaviour, even the simple words that follow succeed in instilling confidence in the surrounding, especially among those engulfed in self-doubts. Ojh felt Amogh was one such man. Ojh didn’t much realise that he was venturing further in the presence of Amogh, as he continued. “The company is now up for sale; and my family is not going to be the owner from here on. As you said, bad luck has grounded me and my family – the Board threw jabs of insults at me today – preplanned, organised insult. So here I am, having left the board meeting, having left the company, knowing that I have been thrown out of the enterprise that my father built. Thrown out by the very people whom my father brought in and helped them grow. So yes, here I am, walking without looking ahead, getting hit by the piling bad luck.”

Amogh went silent, listening to Ojh’s narration, perhaps due to a sense of connect that had firmly generated between the two persons who had been through similar misery. “Your feeling of being let down is understandable. I can relate to how it feels when the very people whom we consider our own conspire to pull us down”, Amogh tried to empathise, as if that was the only recourse in absence of any reasoning.

“But that could be only half of the luck...the bad part, that pulls us down,” Amogh continued. “The remaining half, the real luck could be, if we survive this downfall, survive the pain that accompanies the fall; and live to learn the lessons that, luck, again, presents us during the fall. The caring luck then gives us a safe landing. This luck, the luck that lets us survive the fall, the luck that teaches us lessons during the fall, and the luck that then presents an opportunity – a second life – to have a go at success – this luck could be the real luck. This real luck teaches us more than succeeding in a situation; it teaches us succeeding in life.”

Ojh felt the sudden gush of inspiration from what he was hearing. A good companion not only speaks inspiration, but also takes us along to dream it ourselves. As if realising that this was the eureka moment of getting the thought of a possible fight-back instilled in the mind, Ojh decided to look at the bright side. This time, venturing ahead despite the gulf of self-doubts. “Yeah, I can see the board meeting taught me a lesson, if I see it that way. And I also feel I can fight back. But I don’t know how.”

“Perhaps by learning the art of peace!” Amogh said, as if installing an idea into Ojh’s mind.

Ojh looked at Amogh, astounded yet again, at what he was hearing. Feeling light and as if all the hardship of the day was forgotten, he asked, “Art of peace?! How on the earth does one fight back through the art of peace!”

“You don’t really fight back. That is to say, you don’t fight back the people who pulled you down. We don’t have to always react, reply, respond, ‘fight back’ as you say. You build, despite all these hurdles being thrown at you. You construct a monument that in itself will be the ultimate reply to those hurdles, and to those people who throw these hurdles at you. You construct that beautiful monument through the art of peace.”

“Interesting”, Ojh offered. “So, Amogh Sir, how can I learn the art of peace?”

“Well, by getting into the car! It would be my pleasure to hon the good old hat of a teacher after so many years, especially for a wonderful student of mine!”

As Amogh, with Ojh as co-driver, started the car, he changed the side of the road. “Course-correction – that’s the first step: ‘the inner peace’ – in learning the art of peace!”