By Shubhradeep Guha
Global Capability Lead & India Business Lead, SapientNitro
Being afraid and feeling fear are two different things. I used to be afraid of monsters under the bed, our vice-principal in school, the guy with a smoking revolver who jumped on to our bus one day. But I have really felt fear on two occasions so far. The first time was when an irate bull elephant charged at us in the African bushes. It was snacking next to the dirt track and seemed relaxed while we hung about when something snapped. All of a sudden, there it was, filling the frame of my shot: I took my eye off the viewfinder and realized it was well nigh upon us — ears fanned out, trunk held high, its tusks approaching us ominously at chest height. And it was no more than five feet away.
Survival is the clearest motivator. When looked at from that perspective most of our day-to-day fears present themselves as nothing more than little anxieties masquerading as bullies on the school playground. I found what seemed like a seriously life-threatening situation superbly illuminating, especially in the brevity of choices it offered: life or death. It forced me to be ‘in the moment’, something I rarely achieve otherwise.
I was wonderfully clearheaded and lucid. I realized I had three options — that the driver should reverse and outrun the tusker, I could jump out of the vehicle and make a run for it, or hope that the elephant was bluffing and would stop. I was furthest from the driver, so it was he who had to reverse (or not), not me. Jumping out was going to be tricky as my knees were jammed between my voluminous rucksack and the equally ample backside of the gentleman in front of me. Not to mention that I was anyway in the bull’s line of attack and jumping out would put me closer to — not farther from — the marauding male. That left me with the option of hoping the elephant would stop. Before it charged us, that is.
With hope as my survival strategy I went back to the viewfinder and proceeded to out-stare the elephant from behind my long-range lens. From any wild animal’s perspective, humans with large elongated appendages sticking out from their faces must be a perplexing sight. Either that or maybe because he was bluffing after all, the bull stopped.
Suddenly we were staring at each other. I still remember the heady smell of its musth, and the steam from its nostrils along with the shower of dust it had kicked up. Then he let out a blood-curdling trumpet, turned and trotted off. The whole experience had lasted for 49 seconds.
In our lives, there’s so much at stake in little things that you die a thousand deaths every day. The sages ask you to conquer your fears: feeling fear itself is a good start.
Feeling fear drives action, being afraid drives paralysis and inaction. That incident, apart from getting my adrenaline going, made me a better parent, a better son, a better leader, indeed a better human. Those 49 seconds were among the clearest, and calmest, unlike the countless anxious stressed out moments where I thought my life would collapse if the next presentation did not go well. Here, my very existence depended on what someone else — a rank stranger, or even an animal, would do. Or not do.
Feedback: sguha@sapient.com
