Making Failure Work for You

Once upon a time, my workday unfolded with a deliberate ritual, the measured moves of a chess game. I play a game against the computer. And I lose. Every day. I engage in this practice not to win, but to prepare myself to face failure with equanimity. Some days, I play multiple games, granting myself the chance for a victory to boost my morale. When I do win, I stop for the day, knowing that the odds of consecutive wins are low. This daily exercise builds my resilience, teaching me to encounter professional and personal challenges without fear. It reinforces a vital lesson: there is always wisdom to be gleaned from failure.

Human nature instinctively celebrates success and shuns failure. We eagerly share accomplishments and claim roles in success stories, yet we often perceive failure as a limit—a signal to seek alternatives rather than a source of insight. What is commonly observed is that in organisations, the responsibility centre for failure boils down to the level of junior most executive in the department and the doctrine of collective responsibility is mostly ignored.

My professional career, however, has led me to embrace challenges others deem too complicated. Some of my most profound lessons have come from failing to understand people—their minds and hidden intentions. I recall the stark advice given to me on my first day in a new role in the middle management level by my superior at the corporate headquarter in a Navaratna company (now Maharatna) in Delhi: "People do not always speak the truth. Hear them, but do not believe entirely. Try to read their minds and follow your conscience. This is an organisation with its presence all over the country with inherent diversities. You must explore life yourself." The full meaning of his words, and his own nature, became clear to me much later. Truth has a way of emerging once positions of power are relinquished.

This lesson crystallised during a critical assignment. I was entrusted with a court case concerning 40 individuals seeking regularisation; they were employed by a contractor supplying manpower to the CPSE. My superior emphasised that losing could burden the organisation with direct appointments and it would amount to regularise the irregularities resulting in serious consequences. Legally, the petitioners' claim was tenuous, amounting to a "back-door entry" which is contrary to constitutional mandates on fundamental rights. However, I provided regular updates, and my superior always urged meticulous handling, his inscrutable demeanour offering no clue to his private thoughts.

The case journeyed from the Industrial Tribunal to the High Court, and finally to the Supreme Court, where we ultimately prevailed and our stand was validated in the apex court. Yet, puzzlingly, our legal strategies were repeatedly leaked to the petitioners. Another pivotal moment occurred at the Industrial Tribunal when the presiding judge, exhibiting evident bias, was on the verge of delivering a judgment summoning the Chairman in person and mandating the regularisation of the workers. Faced with this, we had no choice but to seek a transfer of the case to another court. We prepared a legally sound proposal, which was endorsed by the company's Chairman after consulting a senior functionary at the Additional Solicitor General level. Subsequently, the appropriate government—the NCT of Delhi—approved our request under the provisions of the Industrial Disputes Act, 1947. This proved to be a crucial strategic move. Our concerns about the judge's integrity were confirmed within a year when he was terminated from service and later seen practicing as an advocate in the Delhi High Court.

The truth surfaced only in the later stages. As the case reached the Supreme Court, a petitioner revealed that five individuals had been placed by the contractor at the behest of my superior, who had privately assured their eventual regularisation. The superior's interest had been so artfully blurred that I failed to see his conflicting the intent, objective and motives in time. The signs were there, subtle but discernible in hindsight. For instance, he once pushed for a junior officer to draft a settlement agreement, to regularise the services, a move I successfully argued against as it contradicted our existing system of transparency, equity and equality in job opportunities. His reluctant agreement, without explanation, was a red flag I misread.

My failure was a failure of perception—an inability to decipher the "smokescreen" and parallel agendas at play. Upon reflection, I realised that at least four or five of those petitioners were sincere, capable workers. Had intentions been transparent, the organisation could have explored legitimate avenues to recruit them, saving considerable time, money, and energy for all. However, the concerned contractor was advised to continue with their services with fair wages.

This experience was a masterclass in human dynamics. It underscored that people's words, thoughts, and actions are often misaligned. I learned the necessity of a new paradigm: to be super-sensitive, to hone the art of constant observation, and to develop the critical thinking required to catch the subtle signals in human interaction. Maturity lies in matching wavelengths, yet trusting that, in time, little remains hidden. Over the years, this experience helped me in navigating human dynamics while handling key managerial role. The lessons from that failure became instrumental shaping my decisions and interpersonal understanding in my subsequent career leading to the Board level position.

I conclude with a guiding thought from the Buddha: "To take what is wrong as right and what is right as wrong is ignorance. Ignorance is the only cause of suffering." By embracing our failures and learning from our ignorance, we can transform setbacks into our greatest teachers, making failure work for us.