We all wait for that big sign that clearly spells out “opportunity” to arrive at our doorstep. But when we look at the lives of people who made a major impact on the world, we see that they all started as ordinary people doing “ordinary” things.
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| Lakshmi Pratury |
It is what they chose to do with their situations that matters. Be it Gandhi thrown out of the train or Rosa Parks being asked to move to the back of the bus — they each had to deal with the same set of rules set for everyone else. BUT three things separate them from the rest. ONE, they were not afraid to publicly voice their convictions; TWO, they were not afraid to follow a seemingly “unreasonable” path, and THIRD, they did not set out to be global heroes. They did not have a business plan to make a difference in the world. It is their journey and the ruthless adherence to continue on that journey that made the world stop and take notice.
Today, we live in a world of reality TV, 30 seconds of fame and a sound-bite culture. And the only people who get noticed are the ones who shout from the top of the roof and people who can buy fame through money. We are building a world of role models whose claim to fame is strictly through their net worth. Financial institutions that were built over hundreds of years are tumbling down and we all blame “them.” If we can be honest with ourselves, we can see that we stopped celebrating the small wonders, minor achievements, and local successes. If you go to www.globalrichlist.com, it says that if you make $2000/year, you are in the top 17.62 per cent richest people in the world, and if you make $25,000/yr, you jump to the top 10 per cent. Imagine that!
We are all richer than we think we are and there is no need to compare ourselves to the top 1 per cent and remain unhappy. I think that it is important to teach our next generation to be happy with what we have and pursue a knowledge path as opposed to a monetary path. It is important to value small gestures, local innovations, and above all, integrity. We read about corrupt politicians, arrogant movie stars, and unruly teenagers, but for every one of these bad examples, there are thousands who are exceptionally good. But we have no opportunity to see them, celebrate them, or become ambitious about becoming heroes ourselves.
When I first sat in the audience of TED Conference in 1994, I was blown away by the talent that exists around us – not just from people we read about in magazines, but people who go about doing their own thing like Gandhi, like Rosa Parks. Scientists unveiling the wonders of this world, technologists discovering new ways to communicate with one another, designers forcing us to see the world a little differently, musicians who can take you to those magical places, textile designers who let you drape yourself in art, and the list goes on. The willingness of speakers to set aside their façade to talk about what really matters was a breath of fresh air to me. I was hooked and never missed a TED since then. And my move from being a spectator to a co-host also happened in the most undramatic way.
I always wanted to bring TED to India and was happy to help as any other TEDster. I dreamt of cohosting, but I was nervous to even articulate it. I convinced myself that I was not the right person to do it; that I didn’t have the time, and that I needed to do something that made money so that my future was even more secure, and only then I could do something like TED. It is amazing how we are our own worst enemy. As I was going through this, I remembered an incident with
my father.
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| Entrepreneurs who feared nothing and went ahead with their dreams. |
When I was at IIT, I wanted to go on a trek to the Himalayas and my entire family vetoed the decision. There was no way they were going to send their 21-year-old girl to scale some mountains to Rohtang Pass. No amount of hunger strike, tears, and tantrums were going to change their decision. My dad explained to me why he could not let me go on this trek and went off to take his afternoon nap. I sat in the hallway sobbing because I could just see my dream slip away. I didn’t grow up being outdoorsy or remotely athletic, and I was always in the last group of people to finish a hike. But I felt that I found something inexplicably intoxicating along the winding pathways that were untouched by human intervention. I love what we each become around nature – a lack of attention to what one wears or how one looks, a sense of egalitarianism and camaraderie is omnipresent. And to top it all, the pure beauty is breathtaking and keeps pulling one towards it with an unseen force. I did not want to miss it.
As a last ditch effort, I poured my heart out into a letter explaining why it was important for me to go. I wrote that I was a grown up and that I needed to take chances. I slipped the note under the saucer of the cup of chai being sent to my father, following his nap. To this day, I can feel the thumping of my heart and the sweaty palms as I waited for the door to open. Finally, the summons came from my dad. He was deep in thought with my letter in his hand. He looked at me as though he was looking at a new person. Maybe that was the moment he saw me as an individual, separate from him, with my own passions and my own need for an adventure. We had a long chat and finally that letter convinced him to let me go on that hike.
That was my entry into adulthood making way for my own adventures. I limped my way to the Rohtang Pass with blisters on my feet and a leech bite along the way, but I was ecstatic to make it there and back. The journey was the destination for me.
As I was talking myself out of asking Chris if I could cohost the conference, I thought about that letter and about the reversal of my father’s firm resolve. And I decided to give it a try. It took a Herculean effort to open my mouth and say, “Why don’t I work with you to host TED in India?” and the answer was an immediate “yes.” He said that he always had an emotional tie to South Asia as he was born in Pakistan and grew up in India, but he simply did not have the bandwidth to host a conference in India. If I was open to taking it on, he would be game. And thus began our journey. It was a lot more work than we had thought, a lot more adjustments across cultures than we anticipated and a lot more emotional upheavals than I was prepared for. However, the entire team, including Chris and I, was happy with the results, in the end. There is always room for improvement.
The most exciting part is that the journey continues. When we completed TEDIndia, we spoke about its continuity. The plan for TED was to host it once in India and let the follow up evolve. I felt that I had found my next journey. It is to take the concept of TED and make it relevant to India and other economies like India. We worked with TED to launch The INK Conference, in association with TED. It is a scary proposition—to follow in the footsteps of the master of the game with a 25 plus year-old history and live up to its standards is a tall order. We continue to take advice from TED on the theme, sessions, fellows, partners, and all aspects of INK, and we are thrilled that they will distribute INK content per their editorial guidelines on their site. We are taking baby steps to create an effort that could be larger than the sum of parts. And I feel that my job is to create the journey and be delighted with the destination...whatever it may be. For each of us at The INK Conference, the journey itself is our destination; we learn from every mistake we make, and hope to take everyone along with us on a path where we can learn together.
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Lakshmi brought TED to India in 2009, when the first TEDIndia conference was held in Mysore. Her career crosses entrepreneurships of all kinds. She is the founder and CEO at Ixoraa Media.
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