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Exercising ‘discretion’ often translates into exercising bias.
Your self-talk (the thoughts you have about your feelings) can make or break you. When you make a mistake, they either magnify the negativity or help you turn that misstep into something productive. N...
By Purnima Jha* The story of the Ramayana never ceases to amaze me. Not only is the tale fascinating, the lessons contained therein continue to be relevant too. One of my favourites is the story of wh...
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Imagine if suddenly the astronomers discover a planet, within reaching distance, just like Earth. How excited everyone would be. Let's say it has oceans and lakes, has a good temperature for humans, h...
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As every new generation enters the workforce, it's amazing how quickly they're mislabeled with "attributes" that are common to young people. These labels tend to stick, and they become increasingly in...
What is essentially a paradigm--sustainability-- has been commoditized. It has been turned into a product or service that we need to buy or need more of! This is patently false. I also sense that it has resulted in a lot of confusion and disenfranchisement regarding making everyday choices that are sustainable.
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Do you know how many managers serving people across countries and continents fail to see the business challenges that stem from cultural differences? Many front-line managers and executives overlook the key fact that business learning does not always equate to culture learning. Just because someone has lived in multiple countries or speaks multiple languages does not necessarily mean they are able to cross-culturally communicate for advocacy, people management and leadership.
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It is so ugly seeing people going to the church or the court to get married. It is so ugly, so inhuman. It simply shows they can't trust themselves, they trust the authorities more than they trust their own inner voice. It shows that because they can't trust their love, they trust the law.
The rhythm of a train approaching a station was my favourite sound for the next two years. It signalled a journey home to love, and food. Only a hosteller understands the sweetness of the sound of pooris sizzling in the kitchen as one steps in one's home. Each time I returned to the cocoon, the warmth of the familiar sounds weaved threads of comfort around me. Each time I had to leave, that very train lost its rhythm.