Philosophy of shiva in management

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Hi folks ... Back after a hiatus... enjoy the read and looking forward to your comments....According

to the Shiva Puran, Daksha-Prajapati sought worthy grooms for his many

daughters, men of substance, gods who helped life on earth, like Indra,

the rain-god or Agni, the fire-god. He was quite horrified therefore

when his youngest daughter, Sati, of her own free will, chose a hermit

as a husband — a naked, ash smeared ascetic called Shiva who had dogs

and ghosts as his companions and who lived atop a snow-clad

mountain.

Upset that his daughter had married against his will, and that too to a

person so unconventional, he broke all relations with her. When he

decided to perform a grand yagna, he invited all his daughters and

sons-in-law to the ceremony, but not Shiva and Sati.

 

Many of us in the corporate world are Daksha-Prajapatis, who in our

eagerness to create collaborative working environments that work

towards the corporate goal, include in our teams only ‘appropriate

grooms’ — people whose energies match ours and who align to our way of

working. We do not willingly let in a Shiva — the maverick, the

iconoclast, the one who thinks differently, who seems condescending,

cold, distant, even bizarre.

 

Daksha-Prajapati rejected Shiva because he did not fit his definition

of a god. Shiva can easily be misunderstood for a contrarian, people

who oppose for the sake of opposing or for a rebel or for an

attention-seeker, someone who thinks he is too good to align with an

existing way of being. The fact is, a Shiva simply marches to the beat

of a different drummer. When he walks around smeared with ash, he is

not mocking the gold-bedecked, silk-clad Vishnu. He is indifferent to

worldly parameters of appropriateness.

 

The

story goes that when Daksha-Prajapati refused to invite Shiva to his

yagna, Sati flew into such a rage that she burnt herself to death in

protest and disrupted the entire ceremony. A great confrontation

followed where Daksha-Prajpati and his guests saw the fury and power of

Shiva. An uneasy peace was finally restored, with Daksha-Prajapati

begging for forgiveness and Shiva withdrawing into his cave.

 

It is

only in crisis that the value of a Shiva is realised. Crisis emerges

when conventional ways of working fail to deliver. When problems turn

out to be out of the ordinary, we need unconventional thinking: we need

a Shiva. A Shiva is the kind of person who can bring a fresh

perspective. He may innovate but not deliver. He may not be tuned in as

an entrepreneur to the value of his wisdom, or he may simply find the

process of convincing others too much of a bother .

 

A

crisis arose when the demon-king Taraka assumed power; the gods with

all their conventional weapons were unable to destroy him. A warlord

was needed, one who was fathered by Shiva. But before Shiva could

father this great warrior, he had to be enchanted by a woman. For that

he had to be made to open his eyes. So the gods used the standard

solution. Kama, the god of lust, was asked to shoot the arrow of desire

into Shiva’s heart. The plan backfired. Shiva found the effects of the arrow a

disturbance; he simply opened his third-eye and set Kama aflame.

 

Many

of us believe that we can recruit anyone into the team with promises of

great pay packets and high flying designations. But such transactions

do not work with a Shiva. To get him on board one needs a different

approach.

 

The

gods turned to Shakti, the Goddess, who took birth as Gauri, a mountain

princess. She connected with Shiva not by arousing his senses or

appeasing his ego, but by simply demonstrating her determination. She

meditated on him without eating or sleeping, forcing him to appear

before her. She then appealed to his compassion and surrendered to his

wisdom. “Marry me,†she said. He agreed, not even knowing what being a

husband means, such was his indifference to worldly ways. As his wife,

Gauri slowly initiated Shiva in the ways of the householder, gradually

unlocking his power for the benefit of the world. Thanks to her, the

gods got the divine warlord Kartikeya who helped them destroy Taraka.

 

With

Gauri by his side, Shiva became Shankara. While as Shiva, he was silent

and still, with both eyes firmly shut, as Shankara, he spoke and

danced, and opened his eyes. He heard the cries of his devotees and

responded to them. He became the benevolent easy-to-please boon-giver.

He was no longer distant.

 

Gauri

realised that while many people followed Shiva, he was no leader. He

could not be expected to collaborate with the team or motivate people

or drive them towards a goal. He was raw energy, neither positive nor

negative, with no opinion either way. Realising this, demons like

Ravana exploited both his power and his innocence until Gauri came

along.

 

Gauri

succeeded where Daksha-Prajapati and Kama had failed. Daksha-Prajapati

is the authoritarian who demands alignment to a system. Kama is a

friend, an enchanter, a charmer, who convinces you to willingly become

part of the system. Gauri realised force fitting or seducing Shiva into

a system would only lead to disaster — he would eventually withdraw or

create havoc. Therefore, even though she was his wife, she allowed

Shiva to remain the wandering mendicant he was. Without changing his

core personality, she was able to channel his genius for the benefit of

the world through understanding, determination and perseverance.

 

In a

way, we are all like Shiva — individualists, creative thinkers, who

function best when allowed to be ourselves. Over time we all become

Shankaras, getting drawn into the system, working with others, becoming

part of teams. Some Shankaras even become Vishnus — totally assimilated

to the ways of the world. A CEO who knows the value of diversity,

ensures that his organisation has the whole range of people — many

Vishnus, a large number of Shankaras and a few Shivas.