Why Your Quiet Colleague Might Be the Most Influential?

Dear Friends,

We all share a popular belief — myself included — that people who are widely known must be great. Traditionally, we tend to think that if many people know you, you are popular and therefore successful. Most of us think this way. Do you?

If someone has a lot of followers on Instagram or Facebook, we often consider them influential. Do you agree with this statement? Initially, I did — but eventually, I realized I was mistaken. It turns out that assumption may not be entirely true. A compelling article challenges this theory.

Science Advances (a journal with an impact factor of 11.7) published a fascinating study that asks a fundamental question: “Who is more popular — the one with the most followers or the one with deep network knowledge?” Let me explain with an example.

Imagine two of your colleagues. One is outgoing and seems to have influence with senior management. The other is more reserved but has a strong grasp of the internal system — who knows whom, who trusts whom, and so on. Who would you consider more influential?

According to the article:
• Highest number of followers = popularity
• Deep understanding of social connections = influence

Popularity may open doors, but social insight helps you build the house.

So how did they prove this?

The study tracked 187 first-year university students over an academic year to understand how individuals gain social influence. The researchers discovered that those who ultimately became the most influential were not the ones with the most friends, but those who had early and accurate insight into how their peers were connected — the overall structure of the social network. Simply knowing many people, or being aware of individual friendships, did not predict influence. As the network stabilized over time, these insightful individuals further deepened their understanding of social ties.

When I reflect on this, it makes perfect sense. In fact, this is at the heart of marketing, isn’t it?

At Wipro, we had the concept of Hunters and Farmers in our sales structure. The hunter’s job was to identify new leads, while the farmer would deepen engagement within an existing account to generate more revenue. In both roles, success depended on influence — specifically, understanding the customer's internal network and knowing who the decision-makers were. It was never about how many people you knew, but how well you understood the ecosystem and managed relationships.

Sales and marketing can't be taught entirely in a classroom. You learn the fundamentals through instruction, yes — but true learning happens on the field.

On a lighter note, in the old days, almost every family had that one aunt or uncle who knew everything about everyone — who was getting married, who had health problems, what the latest gossip was. That person was the “hub” of the family network. Ironically, many of those uncles and aunts are now lost in Instagram reels and slowly losing their influencer status!

So, let me ask you:

Are you popular, or are you an influencer in your family or social network?

Ravi Saripalle

Instinct to Survive: Lessons from a Trapped Tiger

Dear Friends,

Can you imagine a situation where you and your deadliest enemy both got placed in the same coupe in a first-class railway bogie? You both have to travel for 3 days. What would be your immediate reaction? Will you look at each other’s faces? Will you quarrel? Or will you go to the extent of fighting each other? Or do you both ignore each other until you reach your destination? Definitely, it is the most uncomfortable situation, right?

In such a situation, what if you are offered some good food by your neighbour? Will you eat happily, burying the rivalry or suspicion? Or eat with hesitation? Or reject it totally? Unless we experience such a situation, we may not be able to answer correctly.

However, animals behave differently. A few days back, a little bird got stuck on our balcony. It was barely able to fly. At a distance, the mother kept watching but couldn’t enter due to the parapet wall. It took a while. My son prepared a decent enclosure and started feeding it. Surprisingly, it did not eat, despite being given the right food. It was also unable to make any sound. After some time, he took the enclosure to the garden and dropped her near a plant, guarding her from predators. Suddenly, a few of her relatives came and pushed her forcefully. She gained confidence and flew away with them.

You might be wondering — what is so great about this story?

Recently, an incident took place in Kadukkkachiy in Idukki, Kerala. A tiger and a dog were stuck in a pit at a cardamom plantation (The Hindu). Everybody wondered why the tiger did not kill the dog — after all, they were barely a foot apart in a 10-ft-deep pit. It was an easy prey for the tiger. A DFO and a wildlife expert revealed something new. Normally, tigers do not attack or ambush inside traps. When dogs chase tigers, the tiger usually escapes. Generally, we think the other way around. However, experts say, “Instinct was to survive, not to kill.” This is animal dharma.

Many life lessons and management theories can be drawn from this. Today, the whole world is experiencing various phenomena — wars, famine, natural disasters, health outbreaks, human trafficking, slavery, and many more unwanted and undesired conditions. A few are man-made, while a few are natural. We can avoid man-made disasters and collaboratively and collectively handle natural ones.

What is one lesson we can learn from these tigers? The instinct is to survive, not to kill. We are all people trapped on this big planet. Maybe we need the same instinct — to survive. I’m sure everyone will have their own reason. At least, we can reduce the friction. Human life is so short. We send best wishes to family members, greet each other — and within hours, we’re not sure whether we’ll return safely or not. In the process, we build great dreams, make big claims, and create all kinds of noise. But where is the guarantee that our claim will be fulfilled in our own eyes?

Nature’s lessons are always great. They teach us philosophy, science, engineering, architecture, and much more. I think some universities should start a bachelor’s program exclusively on “Bachelor's in Nature Understanding.” It should be a transdisciplinary subject covering all philosophies.

What does your instinct say?

Ravi Saripalle

From Memes to Meaning: A Reflection on Change, Grief, and Generational Shifts

Dear Friends,

A couple of days ago, I came across a meme: A grandfather is on life support, with the oxygen cylinder plugged into an electrical socket. Next to him, his grandson is playing a video game. The grandfather says, “I know how this will end — one of my grandkids will unplug my life support to charge their phone.”

It made me smile — it’s humorous on the surface, but also carries a profound message. It's not just about choosing a phone over a grandparent's life. It reflects how deeply our world and behaviours have shifted — subtly, yet significantly.

Last night, my two-wheeler broke down about 25 KM from home, around 9:30 PM. With limited options, I had to leave the vehicle by the roadside. By the time it was past 10 PM, transportation was scarce. Eventually, I caught a city bus. In front of me sat two boys (they seemed like brothers), engrossed in a video game. Their parents were seated farther away. I vaguely heard the elder boy say, “Bro, keep 40 rupees and kill that character.” I couldn’t tell if it was part of the game or something else, but their instincts were not sounding right. Persistent exposure to such narratives may lead to different behaviour.

That moment reminded me of another experience from a couple of months ago. I was at a hospital, helping a well-wisher with a non-emergency matter. While near the emergency ward, I witnessed something that deeply moved me.

A young painter, perhaps 25–30 years old, had fallen while working and was rushed in. Tragically, he was declared dead on arrival. He was the sole breadwinner for his family — a mother, a wife, and two young children.

Soon, relatives, neighbors, and friends began arriving. It was heartbreaking. The family, with very limited resources, struggled even to cover basic hospital expenses. I watched as people emptied their pockets — pulling out coins and small bills. Even with all that, it wasn’t enough. Some went out in search of additional help, while others sat silently through the night outside the hospital.

What stayed with me, however, was this small yet powerful detail: While the adults mourned — the mother, in particular, was inconsolable — the young children were given mobile phones to keep them occupied. They quietly played games. I’m not here to say whether that was right or wrong. But I did notice the contrast.

A few decades ago, in such a moment, children might have been taken aside, told to sit quietly, or even asked to pray. Today, the instinct is to distract, not reflect.

It brought back a memory from my own childhood. In October 1984, my maternal grandfather passed away in our village, 30–40 KM from Vizianagaram, Andhra Pradesh. He had a cow he loved dearly. That day, the cow cried — all day. Tears were visible in her eyes. Perhaps it was her way of mourning — an expression of love in a language we often fail to understand.

Even today, I rarely get tears in my eyes, even during intense moments. But that doesn’t mean I don’t feel, or that my heart is hard. I'm not trying to draw exact parallels between these stories, but there’s a certain disconnect we can sense between generations.

Honestly, I don't know why I chose to share this story today. It wasn’t planned. But two pairs of children, a single meme, and a string of memories prompted me to write.

I’m not here to judge what’s right or wrong. Times are changing. So are our tools, habits, and ways of expressing emotion. We’ll likely see many more such memes in the future.

Let’s just hope they remain memes — not reality.

Ravi Saripalle

From Shelter to Showcase: The Evolution of Construction Costs

 Dear Friends,

A couple of days back, I was reading a post on “Thumb Rule for Construction Cost Wise %.” It said: Cement – 16.4%, Sand – 12.3%, Aggregates – 7.4%, Steel – 24.6%, Painting – 4.1%, Tiles – 8%, Bricks – 4.4%, Windows – 3%, Doors – 3.4%, Plumbing – 5.5%, Electrical – 6.8%, Sanitary – 4.1%.

Let’s assume we aspire to live in a 1200 sq. ft flat at ₹5,000 per sq. ft. That’s ₹60 lakhs. Cement itself would cost around ₹10 lakhs, sand around ₹8 lakhs, steel ₹15 lakhs, and sanitary fittings about ₹2.5 lakhs!

Thirty years ago, we lived in a 200–300 sq. ft house with two rooms. One of the rooms served as a kitchen in the morning and became a guest room at night! Families back then weren’t nuclear—grandparents were part of the household. On average, we hosted 2–3 guests every month, staying for a week. When we said “door,” it meant just the main door facing the road! The rest were partitions. “Sanitary” meant only an Indian-style toilet. There was no concept of a washbasin.

As for furniture, we had one Godrej almirah and 3–4 chairs. No dining table! Privacy was a luxury. The background music while preparing for life-changing competitive exams was the inevitable household cacophony of an elderly grandmother, her standard rumblings, occasional scoldings, and emotional outbursts. But the number of life lessons we learned was immense.

Fast forward to my early career phase—living in a 64 sq. ft room in Bangalore as a bachelor. We could afford a better space, but all of us in that phase shared the same aspirations. We were still growing, still dreaming of a better life for our future families. Back then, we were called misers. But who could understand our hearts? That compromise may not be appreciated now, but I feel deeply content about the responsibility I showed back then.

Looking back today, I can say we are living in luxury compared to those days. Aspirations have changed. Lifestyles have transformed. Given a choice, I don’t think I could return to those old living conditions—unless God’s will demands it.

Recently, while visiting Mumbai, I passed through a slum. Watching the lives there was heart-wrenching. It made me realize: we may not feel we are living in luxury, but in comparison, we are. And maybe—just maybe—we’re occupying a space that could have been someone else’s comfort.

Somewhere I read that in 1959, the LIC Building in Mumbai was constructed at ₹70 per sq. ft. In 2002, an independent house in Chennai could be built at ₹300–₹500 per sq. ft. Today, in most metros, a premium tier-1 apartment costs around ₹5,000–₹6,000 per sq. ft.

Construction today is no longer just about shelter—it’s a statement. But with every additional tile and steel rod, we’re also shaping future costs: both personal and planetary.

This is the challenge for designers—in an age of climate crisis and housing shortages, minimalist, modular, and eco-conscious designs may well be the true architectural innovation we need.

Finally, are we building dreams—or just buying into trends? I must admit, I too fell into this trap.

Ravi Saripalle