Recently I was complimented by a fellow professional for my appreciation for the expressions such as ‘sorry’, ‘thank you’ and many such routine communications in the corporate and social atmosphere. While accepting the compliments, I was thinking about JCD. A mentor who taught me to say ‘sorry’!
I began my professional career in Corporate Communications with my first assignment at the Bombay Natural History Society. The then Honorary Secretary, Late J.C. Daniel, has a significant impact on me.
I was introduced to him through his popular articles in ‘Hornbill’ BNHS’ magazines for members. Later, as a school kid, I walked into Hornbill House, BNHS’ headquarters in Mumbai. JCD, as we fondly referred to him, was then the Secretary of the Society. I went to his cabin. No appointment! He noticed me. In his typical fashion, he stood up, walked up to me and sat me in a chair across his huge table.
With an unmistakable, enchanting smile, he asked me, “Welcome, my child. What brings you here today?”
“….”, no answer from me. I was looking around at his cabin. I murmured, “Sorry to disturb you. I just wanted to see you at work.”
With a surprise and a laugh, he picked up a book and began reading. I sat there quietly. A few minutes later, he again asked me, “Would you like me to take you around?” Before I said, ‘yes,’ my eyes must have expressed my heart’s feeling jumping with joy. He then showed me around Hornbill House, sharing many stories.
Many years later, I walked into the Society as its Public Relations Officer. A few months later, JCD became Honorary Secretary; in his 6th or 8th term, after a gap of one term. He was in his late eighties, and I was just beginning my career. He was known for his impeccable Victorian English; I was taking my baby steps in writing. He was the ‘god’ of conservation of wildlife and nature in India; I was a nature lover.
Once, I sent him a press note for his review and feedback. He returned it with his feedback – comments, corrections and suggestions marked with a pencil. One of the corrections he suggested was contrary to my reference. The fact he suggested was inaccurate. I was perplexed, so I did not point it out to him.
Meanwhile, he checked the reference I cited in my press note to ensure that it was correct. He realised his mistake through this reading. He immediately called for the press note. He cancelled his comment with a strike-through. Rewrote the correct one. Complimented my reference. And this time, he brought the press note to my table. He walked up to my table. Gave me the piece of paper and said, ‘Shripad, I stand corrected. I am sorry for my remark.’ And he returned to his cabin.
I was stunned! In the country where authority is gauged by age and knowledge, JCD’s work remains path breaking in every aspect till today. Yet, he checked the source for himself to ensure accuracy.
After many years since this incidence, what remains with me is his humility, smile and passion for knowledge. For me and many BNHS members and researchers, he is the best mentor we could ever have. He was a strict boss, a patient teacher, and a knowledgeable person, but he was a caring grandfather above all.
While working with him, I realised how ‘feelings’ give meaning to ‘words’. Through his behaviour, he taught us to say only things we meant; the same applies to saying ‘sorry’. His lesson not only made me a better person but a much better professional.
Thank you, JCD!
First posted on LinkedIn