The Hypnotic Effect of the Indian Head Bob

I first noticed it when we were met at the airport by the small bodied taxi driver. We found him leaning heavily on the rail under the surge of a multitude of people who had come to pick up friends and family members. We had thought it would be impossible for anyone to find us in the expansive Bengaluru Airport. After darting our eyes across the sea of bobbing faces for a few seconds, we saw it – the name “Enablis” clearly written on a paging board.

It was a good feeling to know that someone had been standing there in the middle of the night just waiting for us. We approached him and nodded towards him to indicate that we were the ones he had come to pick. He bobbed his head sideways and it appeared as if he was refusing. We almost panicked but we later realized that the side-way head bob was his way of saying yes. It was the first of the many head bobs we were going to see during our stay in India.

I came to observe that the bobs came in varieties as diverse as the personalities of the bobbers. The taxi driver for instance had a very artistic one. It was graceful and slow. One of the ladies at the office had a strange one. Her head would be still until you told her something that she agreed with. She would then bob fast at first, then settle down to a continuous mellow bob for the remainder of the conversation. This one I found most intriguing. Then there was this guy in the Thirthahalli centre who had a comical head bob. He used to do it with a lopsided sneer. It made me want to laugh every time I spoke with him.

Over the days I learnt to concentrate despite the head bob of the speaker, but I cannot say that every single head bob didn’t have a hypnotic effect on me. I think it is one of the main reasons why, when an Indian is talking, one listens. The head bob has the same effect as a snake charmer’s flute. It is what I like to call the hypnotic effect of the Indian head bob, and it has done very well for the billion plus Indians in terms of standing out in the world.

Finally Discovered: The Missing Components of Business Strategy

 (The team, from the left; Peter, Spencer, Susan, Me, and Stella)

The five of us were finally down to our last week in India. We had interacted with so many people in different places. Stella had been in Murdenhalli and Susan had been in Bangepalli. Spencer and I, of course went to Thirthahalli as previously shared. The three towns had more or less the same weather as Bangalore city, and all were in the state of Karnataka.

Peter was in a world of his own, quite literally. He was in the town of Rathnagiri, which is in the state of Tamil Nadu. He travelled there by train and on alighting from the air-conditioned coach; he was hit by air heated to 40^◦ Celsius. Much as I didn’t get to visit his centre, I certainly didn’t envy him. The man had a miserable time from the heat, and this was only made bearable by the wonderful people he found there (and of course air-conditioning).

Anyhow, we were all back to Bangalore for the last leg of our trip. We were staying at our now beloved Sai Renaissance hotel, and were commuting to the Ruralshores corporate office every morning by rickshaw (tuktuk). I had been surprised by the Thirthahalli centre manager riding to work on a motorbike. I was now amazed to note that most of the company bigwigs also rode to work (and this included the ladies who rode scooters).

We were fortunate to be around when there was a meeting of the Ruralshores board of directors, and were privileged to be invited to interact with them one on one. Each of us made a short presentation to them, and their interest in what we had to say was humbling. Their faces of concentration and nods of approval were encouraging. Their questions were incisive and their comments enlightening. It was the most enjoyable presentation I have ever made.

We had lunch together and this was a rather unique affair. It was in an open hall on the top floor of the small building. The only pieces of furniture were the tables on which the food was placed, so everybody served their own food, and ate standing – and mingling, cocktail party style. The difference with what I have observed in Kenyan companies’ board meetings was glaring. There were no five star hotel reservations, or an army of servants at their beck and call, yet this is a very respected and successful company.

On our second last day, we had a session with the Ruralshores CEO Mr. Murali. The set up was very informal. We took seats and set them out on the garden in front of the office. When Mr. Murali came out he didn’t want to use a chair. Instead, he opted to sit on the floor of the front porch. It struck me the way he was not insecure. He was a very accessible person and the session was possibly the best I had in India. He asked us to share what we were taking away with us. I said – and truthfully so – that my main observation from the whole visit was that all those I had interacted with, had humility and honesty of immense magnitude.

Mr. Murali told us that humility and honesty should always be a part of all we do. I said that I intended to teach all the people who work for me about the two virtues because I realized they are a big part of the reason Ruralshores is so successful. Mr. Murali told us that humility and honesty cannot be taught; it can only be demonstrated through practicing by oneself. If you are humble and honest in all your dealings, your clients will trust you and you don’t have to go looking for them to give you business. They will look for you. I didn’t catch his last words because I was already thinking to myself, “Are those two virtues of Humility and Honesty, not the missing ingredients in the average business strategy?”  

Confirmed - Tissue paper is not a basic human need

On the night before we left Nairobi, we went to the Nakumatt lifestyle supermarket to buy a few necessities. I accompanied the ladies, Stella and Susan so I was a very sensible shopper. Spencer stayed in the supermarket for only as long as it required him to buy a suitcase. Peter claimed he didn’t need anything so he waited in our ride for the night – Spencer’s Benz (but do I say!). Since I had professional shopping help, I had no problem in choosing what to buy – and this included an extra large roll of tissue paper, the kind one finds in mall toilets. On enquiring why they thought I needed such a big one, the ladies assured me that it can come in very handy when one is in a faraway land. I rested my case.

Fast forward to one and a half weeks later; that is when Spencer and I arrived in the rural town of Thirthahalli. Our lovely little house had everything we needed – that is apart from tissue paper. We assumed that this was due to our host’s religious affiliations – we assumed he was Muslim and everybody knows that Muslims don’t use tissue paper. It was not a big deal; Spencer was going to buy his tissue paper in the town where one could buy anything from cakes to pure gold rings, and everything in between. After enquiries in about four shops, we realised that the “everything in between” did not include tissue paper. The confused looks of the shopkeepers on our enquiries said it all; in addition to being the first time they were seeing a black man in their village, it was also the first time they had heard of something called tissue paper. So much for Spencer’s assumption that money could buy anything, anywhere!

I wanted to be mean to Spencer and not share my tissue paper. I really wanted him to learn how to use the squirt gun, which was conveniently hooked next to the toilet seat. I later thought against it. It would be our bathroom he would mess up if he didn’t know how to use the gun properly – and chances were high that he had no idea how to do so. I gave in and produced my hoarded tissue paper.

After a few weeks in the town, we realized that there were three main religions; the majority being Hindus, followed by Muslims, and then Catholics. It was now obvious that the lack of use of tissue paper had nothing to do with religion. Our host was not even Muslim as we were to learn later, he was a staunch Hindu (who even does yoga). Much as we didn’t get to learn how to use the squirt gun, we had learnt an important lesson – tissue paper is not a basic human need. It led me to wonder how many things we assume are so important and yet we can comfortably do without them. We stayed with people who have lived generations without using or even knowing tissue paper, but they were no less hygienic than we are, and they are even a trifle kinder than us.

The People of Thirthahalli Ruralshores BPO Centre

The smiling guard, Patrick, ensures that no one enters the centre with a heavy heart. He is ever helpful, kind-hearted, but thorough in his work. It is obvious that with him at the door, security is guaranteed. The first one hour of his day is busy with the youthful associates enthusiastically trooping in and logging into his thick attendance register. By 9 a.m. everybody is settled down and the chit chat has changed to a quiet hum of serious activity.

Vikram, or Vicky as he is popularly known, is a gentle person whose presence at the centre gives it the air of order. Everybody respects him and he attends to his duties with dedication. To Spencer and me, he is like a big brother, going to great pains to ensure our comfort. He made our stay in Thirthahalli a wonderful experience. With him, nothing is too much to ask. Associates mill around him asking for this and that and they always get served to their satisfaction.

Every morning, it is interesting to watch Satchin impart his boundless energy on everybody. The combination of his bubbling enthusiasm and the quiet demeanour of Abisheak is a sure recipe that not a second is lost in starting the day’s work. Within the first hour, D’souza is already on with his first report – a feat he constantly achieves throughout the day.  In the background, with a watchful eye, and keen ear, is Hrishi, whose presence is felt in a very unobtrusive way. One can tell he is in charge without feeling intimidated.

Jysheela, with her graceful walk around the centre, punctually keeps everybody’s thirst for tea quenched. Thanks to her also, that everything at the centre is squeaky clean and smelling fresh all day long.

Under the watchful eyes of Anjitha and Divya, an error would have a hard time passing from an associate. The two together with Suprith keep the inbox drained and associates clicking away. Trainees passing through Suprith’s hands become experts in no time. He has great passion for what Ruralshores is all about and is able to pass this on effectively to the young ones.

The bespectacled face of Ganesh gives an assurance about books well kept, and records meticulously maintained. In contrast, but complementing Ganesh, is Bharath, whose touch with the equipment is reminiscent of an artist with his paint brush. He makes the complex system look like a calculator. Petite and lively Navya is in pure harmony with her work station – a picture of confidence in herself.

Deepa readily breaks into a wide, infectious smile. She represents the feeling of ownership that all the youth working at this centre have to their respective processes and to Ruralshores as a whole. Everybody at the centre was extremely pleasant and helpful and I got to interact with most of the people. I could not, however manage to mention everyone by name but I can say without fear of contradiction that all the people there are now my friends.

While I was going to the Thirthahalli Ruralshores centre, I thought I was going to a geographical location. When I got there, I realised it was a group of people with a shared vision. A vision well brought out and actualised. A vision to be shared with all the villages of the world, and one I want to be a part of.

(Note: Some names may have been misspelt due to my difficulty in grasping Indian names)

From Bangalore to Thirthahalli

Spencer and I, accompanied by a young man called Ashok, rode for one hour in a city commuter bus right across the city of Bangalore to the main bus station for inter-city and inter-state buses. We boarded a sleeper coach. This is an interesting bus because it has beds instead of seats. It is the size of a 62-seater bus in Kenya, but it is fitted with 36 beds on two levels. There is a narrow corridor with two beds on the left and one on the right. One could sleep right through the whole trip but I was too excited to do so.

The sleeper bus departed at 10.00 p.m. on Tuesday 15^th May for the eight hour journey to Thirthahalli (pronounced titahali). Although we took the journey at night, I was able to notice that there were settlements, trees and other vegetation all along the way. I even caught a glimpse of rice paddies somewhere. We arrived at Thirthahalli at 6.00 a.m. and Ashok handed us over to our local chaperone, Vicky (short for Vikram and he is a man), who also works at the centre. Thirthahalli is a big town but we didn’t look around much. We were taken to our accommodation in a tuktuk (locally referred to as rickshaw).

Our accommodation was impressive from the onset. It was the guest wing in a home. The owner was called Gautam and he was very kind. He lived in the main house with his father and some other family members whose relationships we do not get to know. Our quarters were on the first floor while Gautam lived just below us on the ground floor. We had an ensuite bedroom with a big bed, a sitting room with antique furniture and satellite TV, and an open balcony with outdoor chairs overlooking the tree covered hills.

After checking in and freshening up, we were taken to the centre by Vicky and a friend on their motorbikes. On our way there we passed a swamp in which we saw a herd of Indian buffalo. We also saw a small group of dark skinned Indian families living in tents on a small valley floor. These, we were told are from a small Indian tribe who have no fixed abode, but move around working on farms for wages. When they move, they carry everything they own, which is not much.

 The Thirthahalli Ruralshores centre is located in a large hall which used to be a community wedding hall. The whole area is quite developed, which is especially noticeable since it is considered to be rural. The roads are tarmac ked and the houses are permanent and beautiful with intricately sculptured patterns, reminiscent of Indian architecture. The people in this community look comfortable, healthy, and are very kind and friendly.

It was very refreshing to finally see a fully functional rural BPO gainfully employing more than a hundred youth right there in their village. We were welcomed by the manager, Hrishi, who looks very young but is very knowledgeable and experienced. He commands a lot of respect from all the workers and he is very humble (Can you imagine he rides a motor bike to work?). He gave us a good overview of the centre and also of his own profile.

All the young people working at the centre have gone through basic schooling. This is the equivalent of a secondary school education. A few have been to college and university. Most are advancing their education after getting the jobs, and all of them are happy to work there.

We got to meet three of the senior process associates (associates are what we call operators), Suprith, Divya, and Anjitha (pronounced anjita). Suprith is a young man; while Divya and Anjitha are young ladies (I know you couldn’t tell that from the names).The three started off as trainees, became process associates, and eventually got promoted to become senior process associates. They are hoping to become process leads and even better in future. What stood out to me was the loyalty they have to the company. This, they say, is because Ruralshores changed their lives and gave them hope to better their lives and that of their families. All three walk to the office and take their meals at home. They are thus able to save a lot of money and take part in family activities.

Suprith and Divya are currently undertaking their undergraduate studies by distance learning. Anjitha on the other hand, already had an honours degree when she joined Ruralshores. However, she couldn’t get a good job because her family would not allow her to leave home for the big cities. In this culture, girls are very sheltered and the rural concept is highly beneficial to them and their families. Anjitha is now undertaking her postgraduate studies and is happy have a world class job very near home. She is highly talented and she is assigned to handle all the particularly difficult clients at the call centre section where the three work.

In the afternoon on Wednesday, Spencer and I were privileged to sit in a training session for new recruits in the call centre section. This was conducted by Sachin, one of the process leads, and it was so simply structured and very effectively delivered. It covered the basics and enhanced confidence of the trainees. All the people at the centre seem to interact very freely with each other and there is a lot of mutual respect. This is evident in even the new trainees who have only been there for only a few days.

There is so much to learn both in terms of processes and of the people and their attitudes. We have transformed ourselves into sponges to absorb as much as we can. The learning continues.

A taste of Indian hospitality: An account of my first day in India.

When we landed in Bangalore early in the morning of 13^th May, we didn’t know what to expect. Each of us had his or her idea of how things would turn out in this country.

After a small scare at the airport involving Stella and her “missing” invitation letter, we took the slightly more than one hour drive in cabs to the Sai Renaissance hotel, where we were promptly checked in at 6.00 a.m. local time. This was my first experience of jet-lag, because it was 3.30 a.m. back in Kenya where my biological clock was still attuned. By coming to India, I had effectively lost two and a half hours, and the only way to recover them would be by going back to Kenya.

Biological clocks aside, I was bursting with excitement and I could not sleep beyond 8.00 a.m. I woke up, freshened up, and went down to the dining room of the hotel. I was obviously not the only one who was excited as a few minutes later; Peter joined me, looking as fresh as ever. For breakfast, I took toast with baked beans, tea, and traditional Indian yoghurt, which is served in a bowl and sweetened with honey. Peter, the picky eater, only took cheese toast, and tea. We were now ready to see this town, or so we thought.

Having arrived in darkness, we were not able to appreciate then, the sheer size of the city of Bangalore. The Sai Renaissance hotel is located five kilometers away from the edge of the city centre. Peter and I had imagined that we could walk into the city centre, change some money, and have some fun. This was not to be, at least not just then.

We left the hotel gate and turned left. We walked for close to an hour and I figured we had covered close to three kilometers towards where we thought would be the city. That which was appearing from a distance to be shopping malls, turned out to be massive apartment blocks. We had to stop and ask for help. We found man, who appeared to be in his sixties, walking a cute white dog on a leash, outside a posh looking compound with tall blocks of apartments. Thankfully, he spoke good English so we were able to communicate.

We were embarrassed to be informed that we had been walking away from the city while we thought we were walking towards it. We should have turned right at the hotel gate. By now we were more than seven kilometres away from where we needed to be. We could take a bus or tuktuk (rickshaw) into town as there was no way we were going to walk that long distance in the now apparent high heat of Bangalore. There was one problem; we didn’t have any local currency. We only had hundred dollar bills. We told the man of our dilemma and he called his son on his mobile phone. The son was well built – he obviously worked out a lot – and he was as friendly and helpful as his father. He said he could call a friend who operated a forex bureau and who he could convince to meet us right there and change our money. We agreed and he called the friend who unfortunately, as out of town. We were stuck.

In an unexpected gesture, the old man offered to lend us money to board a bus into town with the promise that we should refund the money later in the day. He gave us forty rupees which would be enough to pay for the bus fare into town. This was from someone we had just met. He and his son had made several phone calls, given us a lot of information, given us money, and they didn’t even know our first names. It was simply amazing how kind and trusting Indians could be.

Our new friends tried to get us into a bus but all that came along were full. They decided to get us a rickshaw (tuktuk). This would be more expensive, but they were still willing to help out. The first rickshaw that came along stopped for us. Our friends explained to the driver where we needed to go. Wonder of wonders, the driver was willing to take us to a mall, wait for us to change our money, and only then accept his payment. With that new offer, we gave the old man his money back and got into the rickshaw. We were lost for words as we drove off. We had just experienced what we would gradually come to understand as typical Indian hospitality.

The rickshaw driver was chatty and he told us a lot about the city and India in general. The roads were good and though there were many vehicles, traffic was flowing. We had assumed that the cab driver who took us from the airport was unreasonably addicted to hooting. We now realized that loud hooting was an accepted way of life in India. Everybody was hooting, seemingly continuously, but no one showed any anger or aggressiveness in driving. They drive fast but they have few accidents. We got to the mega plaza and the driver had no qualms about getting us out of his sight even though we had not paid him.

We hurried into the mall and immediately sought directions to the forex bureau. We were disappointed to find it not yet open since it was early on a Sunday morning. We didn’t know what to do, and the rickshaw driver was waiting for his money outside. We decided to enquire from a tour operator who had an open desk on the mall floor as to when we could expect the money changer to arrive. He expected it to be soon but could not tell how soon. He however offered to buy our dollars from us at the same rate we could have expected to get from the money changer. We were elated as we took the money and Peter rushed out to pay the driver.

With the confidence that money inspires, we took a leisurely walk around the mall and looked at all that was on offer, from clothes, to shoes, to electronics, and of course, food. By the time we had covered all the three levels of the mall, we were famished. Peter had spotted a Nandos outlet – you see he owes them some loyalty as he had worked with them in Nairobi – and this was the obvious next stop. We really enjoyed our meal of flame-grilled chicken, fries, and bottomless coke (so called because you can take as much as you want without paying extra).

That afternoon we visited several other malls and realised that one could buy virtually anything in Bangalore. A toy company was conducting a demonstration by flying remote controlled toy helicopters in one of the malls’ lobby. There was also a shop selling original handmade Kashmir shawls, which were dyed using natural vegetable based colours. People in the malls were staring at us and we guessed that they didn’t get to see too many black people in this state. We saw many different people and we spoke to quite a number. They had one thing in common – kindness; and we realised that on our first day in India, we had experienced – first hand – a taste of Indian hospitality.