On Naysayers and Shortcut Sellers: A Story From Home

My dear Avyaansh,

I was home in Jamshedpur the year I want to tell you about — Chhath Puja, then Deepawali, the streets full of diyas and the river full of devotion. That specific quiet only your hometown gives you. Family at home, no uniform on, no rank to carry. I want to tell you about a man I met that week, because what he taught me — without meaning to — has stayed with me ever since.

He was someone I half-recognised from the gym I trained at on every leave back home. He saw me, called out warmly, friendly enough. We talked for a few minutes about nothing in particular. Then, almost before the conversation had a shape, he was offering me a "business opportunity." His partner, he said, would explain everything properly. Could I meet at a friend's grocery shop the next morning?

I went, beta. Not because I expected anything real. Curiosity, mostly. The shop, the chai, the seriousness on their faces — they had practised this.

Then came the pitch. Invest one lakh today. Receive ten thousand rupees a month, every month, permanent. They said it like a promise — like they were doing me a favour by telling me about it. I let them finish. While they spoke, I did the math. Ten thousand a month on one lakh is 10% per month — 120% a year. Nobody on this earth makes 120% a year legally. Not Warren Buffett in his best year. Not the smartest fund manager in any country. I had read enough by then to know the shape of this — Ponzi math wearing a friend's face. But I had no interest in arguing.

So I made him an offer of my own. "Five lakhs for your grocery shop. Cash, today. You take that money and put it in your own scheme. Fifty thousand rupees a month, every month, completely hands-free. Do we have a deal?"

He didn't accept. He couldn't even meet my eyes after. The silence in that shop was the only honest thing in the room.

That refusal told me everything. The first test of any "opportunity" you will ever be offered is this — would the person selling it actually take it themselves? When the answer is no, the answer is no.

That man in Jamshedpur was not the only one. Years later, sitting at home, my phone rang — a brokerage agency. They were selling "guaranteed tips." Invest on their advice, they take a cut of the profits. I asked him, "If your tips are guaranteed, why are you calling strangers for a cut? You should be a multi-millionaire from your own tips by now." Silence. Then dumb excuses — "Sir, we can't invest in our own recommendations," and similar nonsense. I let him keep talking. Asked him for his investment mantra, the one that made his guarantees possible. He had nothing. Same pattern. Different costume.

The world is full of these people, beta. They sell get-rich-quick. Get-fit-quick. Get-famous-quick. They have never done the thing they are selling — they have only learned to talk about it. They monetize hope. They prey on people who haven't done the math, or haven't done the work. Don't be angry with them. Just refuse, and walk on.

There is another kind of person you will meet, and they are harder to spot. They will not sell you anything. They will sit at the edges of your life and try, quietly, to keep you small. Mockery. Humiliation. Derating you to your face and behind your back. The "loser" label, casually delivered. They do this not because you are wrong — but because the moment they sense you outgrowing them, they feel threatened. Society does not want to see you outgrow it, beta. Your discipline becomes uncomfortable proof of what they could have built and didn't. So they try to pull you back into the average. Don't argue with them either. They were never asking real questions.

The most expensive thing you own is not your money or your time. It is your mental energy. Whatever you spend on the wrong people, you will not be able to spend on the work that becomes you. So don't argue. Don't justify yourself. Don't try to convince a critic to support you — you will be poorer for the attempt and they will not change. Distance is hygiene, not anger. You do not fight mold, beta. You leave the room.

The energy you give to the wrong people is the energy you cannot give to the work that becomes you.

And this is why you must choose ruthlessly the people you let close. The five people nearest to you slowly become you — this is not metaphor, it is mathematics. For marriage, watch how she treats people who cannot help her. The waiter, the autowala, her own juniors, her own parents on a hard day. People show their actual self to people they don't have to perform for. For business, watch how a man handles small money before you trust him with big money. How he splits a five hundred rupee bill is how he will split a fifty lakh deal. Skill can be taught. Character cannot.

Pity them, don't fight them. Most naysayers are echoing what was once said to them — they are wounded animals biting whoever walks past. You don't have to forgive them. You don't have to fight them. You just have to keep walking. Build anyway. Stay full. Time settles every argument the world will ever start with you. And one day, the same people who mocked you will quietly ask how you did it.

— Your Dad

Har Har Mahadev 🔱