For a Marwari, the clinking of rupees and the thrill of the deal are often the soundtrack to success. Business acumen is practically woven into our DNA. So, explaining my career path in humanitarian aid can be a bit like trying to translate a Shakespearean sonnet into emojis – a delightful exercise in futility, yet strangely endearing.
The "Sanstha" Shuffle:
Take, for instance, a recent encounter at my younger sister's wedding. Amidst the vibrant chaos of swirling lehengas and clinking bangles, a kind gentleman, his face etched with the wisdom of years, approached me. The inevitable question arose, "Beta, kya karte ho?" (Son, what do you do?). My response, brimming with idealistic fervor, was, "Uncle, I work for an organization that helps people affected by natural disasters and conflicts."
A polite nod, then came the follow-up that always seems to trip me up: "Sanstha? (Organization?) But what do you do to earn a living?" The disconnect was palpable. Here I was, passionate about alleviating suffering and building a more just world, and to him, it didn't seem like "real" work.
The conversation became a well-meaning dance of explanation and friendly insistence that I get a "proper" job, preferably one that involved a hefty salary and a corner office overlooking bustling Nariman Point. It was a situation many Marwaris face – trying to bridge the gap between the traditional, merchant-driven mindset and the world of non-profit work.
From Frustration to Acceptance:
This wasn't the first time I'd encountered this challenge. During my wedding, my in-laws, bless their hearts, made a special trip to my office in Delhi. Their bewildered expressions as they navigated the maze of cubicles spoke volumes. What was this "International Federation of Red Cross and Red Crescent Societies" anyway? Initially, it felt frustrating. Answering one question seemed to open a Pandora's box of new ones, each more perplexing than the last.
However, over time, my perspective shifted. Building new relationships often involves a period of curiosity and exploration. Now, I find certain humour in these conversations. Instead of getting flustered, I embrace the opportunity to be an ambassador for the world of humanitarian aid. I explain the diverse roles within an organization like Oxfam, the meticulous planning behind disaster relief efforts, and the quiet victories of empowering communities to rebuild their lives.
Beyond Blood and Business:
Even within my family, the lines can blur. A recent conversation with a distant relative, a successful businessman heavily involved in charitable trusts, highlighted this. He expressed a desire for me to connect him with funding opportunities for his work. While I admired his dedication to giving back, I gently explained the boundaries between personal connections and professional fundraising within Oxfam. There's a delicate balance to be struck, ensuring transparency and ethical practices.
A Life of Unexpected Encounters:
The world of humanitarian aid is a whirlwind. One day I'm explaining complex issues like gender disparity in conflict zones to my colleagues at Oxfam – a fascinating group that includes gender specialists and program specialists (a story for another time, perhaps over steaming cups of chai!). Next, I'm navigating family dynamics and cultural expectations, all while trying to bridge the gap between the worlds of business and social good.
This cross-cultural dance is a constant part of my life, but it's also what makes it so rewarding. Being able to explain humanitarian work, even when met with initial confusion, is a chance to break down stereotypes and open minds to a different way of contributing to the world. It's about planting a seed, a seed of understanding that compassion and social responsibility can be just as valuable as a well-negotiated deal.
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