Part 17 of 19 in Trust Yourself: A Guide for Indian Parents← Part 16Part 18 →
Twelve Moments You Already Know
Last week, I watched a child at a wedding buffet, devouring every sweet treat and savory snack in sight. It was a stark contrast to the stories I often hear from parents at my clinic, where children refuse to eat at home despite parents’ best efforts. This discrepancy isn’t about appetite; it’s about audience. The child eats at the wedding because the setting is different, the environment is new, and there’s an element of performance. It’s a reminder that sometimes we’re inclined to change the menu when what really needs changing is the commentary.
This moment brought me back to a recurring theme I see not just in parenting, but also in the startups I mentor. Founders, much like these children, often present differently depending on their audience. In boardrooms, they might feel the need to perform rather than be authentic, leading to decisions that are more about perception than substance. It’s a lesson I’ve learned time and again in both my medical practice and my investment ventures: authenticity is far more sustainable than performance.
I’ve seen similar patterns with students and exams. The fever that mysteriously appears before a unit test and vanishes by the weekend isn’t always fabricated. The fear of failure manifests in physical symptoms, just as the fear of judgment does in startups. In my experience, both the fever and the fear need to be examined, and both can be real. It’s crucial for parents, teachers, and mentors to recognize the difference between avoidance and anxiety, and to address both with empathy.
In one of my investments, a promising founder was brilliant with product development but seemed careless with financial projections. To the untrained eye, it appeared as negligence, but I saw it differently. Much like the son who is careless in his notebook but precise with cricket scores, this founder’s apparent carelessness was contempt for a task that did not respect his expertise. He thrived on innovation, not on spreadsheets. I encouraged him to delegate the financial tasks and focus on what he loved. The results vindicated his genius when he was finally doing what he was passionate about.
This brings me to another observation: the homework that takes two hours with a hovering parent, but only twenty minutes when the child is left alone. I’ve seen this with startups where founders are micromanaged by well-meaning investors, only to thrive when given the freedom to explore. Anxiety, whether in the form of parental pressure or investor scrutiny, can stifle creativity. Sometimes, the best thing we can do is step back and trust the process, checking results rather than controlling methods.
Reflecting on my own journey, I recall a night when my child couldn’t sleep. The group chat was buzzing with advice, but none of it worked. It was only when I ignored the chatter, tried a feed, a dry nappy, and a dim room, that my child finally settled. It wasn’t a method; it was a hit. I’ve seen this with startups too. The formula that worked for one company won’t necessarily work for another. It’s about trying, observing, and iterating — not franchising a solution.
This all ties back to the importance of respecting individuality, whether in children or startups. The teacher who labels a child average may miss the brilliance in a project they built alone. Similarly, a startup judged by conventional metrics may miss the unique value it brings. In both cases, it’s vital to bring the project to the forefront and leave judgment at the door.
One of the most profound lessons I’ve learned is from parents who say, “I don’t know, you try,” to a child struggling with a simple task. The empowerment that comes from letting someone try, fail, and succeed on their own is immeasurable. In the startup world, this translates to founders figuring out solutions in their own way. The respect and confidence that follow are often the unseen catalysts for success.
Every parent, teacher, and mentor has lived a version of these moments. They’re not diagnoses but reminders. They prompt us to pause, reflect, and sometimes, change our approach. Whether it’s in parenting or in the boardroom, these moments teach us that the hard thing is indeed doable. The next step isn’t always clear, but it’s a step we must take sincerely and authentically.
Lastly, I urge you to add your thirteenth moment. The time when you knew instinctively what to do, against all advice and predictions, and it worked. Write it down. In challenging times, it’s proof that you’re not just guessing — you’re learning, adapting, and growing.
In the end, the most personal observations often carry the most universal truths. As I continue to navigate the intersections of medicine, investing, and education reform, I’m reminded of how interconnected these domains truly are. Each informs the other, and the lessons learned in one often illuminate the path in another. It’s a journey that keeps me curious, and I hope, keeps you engaged.