The Audacity Within You
There is a fragment of memory in my head from when I was six years old that I go back to now and then.
I had just started first grade in a new school in Chennai and I hated it. Not liking your school is not an uncommon thing in kids, but I had extra dislike for my new school. After losing my mother, I had been yanked out of my school in the countryside and brought to the city. I missed my old friends, I missed my mom, and I was an utter misfit in the city school. Every minute I was in class, I was plotting to get out of there.
Then one fine day, I made it happen.
It was 2p, we had finished lunch, and were going over English lessons. I went up to my teacher and told her I was not feeling well. My stomach hurt badly and I wanted to go home. I told her I knew how to get to my grandparents' flat, and I will go there and rest up until my father came to get me. She knew that my grandparents lived nearby. She gave me permission to go, and I left. I found my way to my grandparents' flat.
Upon arriving there, grandma let me in, asked me to wash myself, and gave me a snack. I was enjoying being pampered in familiar surroundings when I heard a loud rap on the door. It was around 4p or 5p. Grandma opened the door, and my dad burst in looking hot and angry. He rushed into the room where I was sitting, dragged me out of the room, out of the house, down the staircase, through the courtyard where boys were playing cricket, and into an autorickshaw parked outside. He looked into my eyes, and sternly said, "Never EVER do that again. I was worried silly about you!". Emotions poured through me. I felt chastised. I was suddenly afraid.
Many things about this incident and the memory of it elude me. For example: How did my teacher let me leave the school alone? Being new in the city, how did I know the way to my grandma's flat? How did a little girl walking alone escape the notice of the many vile elements in the city? Such is the nature of childhood memories: you wrestle with the fragments you can recall and stitch the hazy snapshots into a cogent narrative with many details missing.
But I tell you this story not just because I find
it a notable episode in my life, albeit the missing details,
but because there is some meaning in it that I feel is worth
exploring.
It was the first time in my life that I remember being brave and going after what I wanted with confidence.
Let's fast forward fifteen years.
I was a graduate student in the University of British Columbia. Over my previous four years of Comp Sci education, I had become increasingly drawn to the field of Distributed Systems. It was a hot subject of the day. I had taken a class from the professor that taught Distributed Systems in the university, and I longed to do my thesis in it. However, when the moment came, I grew afraid. I thought and thought and thought, and I began to feel that the subject was beyond me. Everyone I knew in the Distributed Systems lab was WAY smarter than me. I told myself I would likely not be successful in the field.
Doing my research in Distributed Systems would give me terrific learning, but it also presented a huge chance of failure. Doing research in Software Engineering or Databases, on the other hand, would be more up my alley and guaranteed better success. I ended up choosing what I thought was the safer path. I did my thesis in Software Engineering. With the benefit of hindsight, however, I've realized that my analysis of my own fitness for Distributed Systems research that day was plain wrong. It was an irrational fear that I had allowed to take root in my heart and thereby miss an opportunity to do interesting work under a professor I respected.
Fast forward another few years.
I started working at Microsoft in 2005. I have learned many lessons over the course of my career at Microsoft. I have learned the pride of craftmanship, the satisfaction of making a difference, the value of diverse experiences and perspetives, the joy of making complex things happen, and what true leadership is all about. But there is one particular lesson from an old mentor that has been pivotal in making me who I am today. "Raji," he told me one day, "you are a good developer. People like working with you. You are persistent when you go after something. But there is one thing that is going to come in your way sooner or later."
I looked at him quizzically.
He continued. "You need to put yourself out there. You need to take more risks, not just opt for safe, known things. That's how you can do truly big things in your life."
I knew what he said was true. I had let my life experiences knock my natural audacity out of me. I had started playing to NOT lose, and instead I need to play to win. This was no good. I started working on becoming more and more comfortable with risks since that conversation with him.
I started raising my hand for projects that were going badly so I could help turn them around. I said yes to speaking in public more. I set my eyes on startup opportunities that had big potential for success but also a chance of things falling apart. I began to challenge the negative self-talk we all develop over years of growing up and trying to please society.
I have learned through these years that there are no
two ways about it...
To become truly who you can be, to become excellent at your calling, you need to be audacious. You need to be willing to stick your neck out now and then.
The six-year old girl that left her school that day showed audacity. She found what her heart desired and boldly went after it. No one taught her how to do it, nor inspired her to do it, she just did. Granted many things could have gone wrong that day. And I am not by any means advocating letting schoolchildren roam freely in the streets - that indeed would be an irresponsible thing to do. But my point is that daringness is innate to us. As children, we constantly push the envelope of possibilities in front of us. We dont overthink the failure case. Our goal is rarely to impress anyone or to show people how bold/smart/successful we are. We do things for the joy of doing them. We run around just to feel the rush of air through our hair, climb trees or jungle gyms, do things most adults would consider insane. We know how to feel alive and how to experiment. It's not that we don't fear the unknown - we are afraid of the dark, e.g. - but we are curious, we learn constantly, and we want to try things out for ourselves.
Over time we become more interested in playing safe. We overestimate our chances of failure and stop ourselves from doing things we truly want to do. We learn to become more afraid of risks. Paradoxically, we become less confident in ourselves. We crave approval and 'not looking bad'.
While it is only wise to carefully evaluate our desires and actions, let's stop overdoing it. Our goal should be the pinnacle of whom we individually can be. To reach that, we need to show audacity that we once showed as children. Let's challenge the inner voice that takes us away from it. Let's not become imprisoned within the walls of our fears. For as Theodore Roosevelt said:
“It is hard to fail, but it is worse never to have tried to succeed.” ― Theodore Roosevelt