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By:

Rahul Kulkarni

30 March 2025 at 3:32:54 pm

The Boundary Collapse

When kindness becomes micromanagement It started with a simple leave request.   “Hey, can I take Friday off? Need a personal day,” Meera messaged Rohit. Rohit replied instantly:   “Of course. All good. Just stay reachable if anything urgent comes up.”   He meant it as reassurance. But the team didn’t hear reassurance. They heard a rule.   By noon, two things had shifted inside The Workshop:   Meera felt guilty for even asking. Everyone else quietly updated their mental handbook: Leave is...

The Boundary Collapse

When kindness becomes micromanagement It started with a simple leave request.   “Hey, can I take Friday off? Need a personal day,” Meera messaged Rohit. Rohit replied instantly:   “Of course. All good. Just stay reachable if anything urgent comes up.”   He meant it as reassurance. But the team didn’t hear reassurance. They heard a rule.   By noon, two things had shifted inside The Workshop:   Meera felt guilty for even asking. Everyone else quietly updated their mental handbook: Leave is allowed… but not really. This is boundary collapse… when a leader’s good intentions unintentionally blur the limits that protect autonomy and rest. When care quietly turns into control Founders rarely intend to micromanage.   What looks like control from the outside often starts as care from the inside. “Let me help before something breaks.” “Let me stay involved so we don’t lose time.” “Loop me in… I don’t want you stressed.” Supportive tone.   Good intentions.   But one invisible truth defines workplace psychology: When power says “optional,” it never feels optional.
So when a client requested a revision, Rohit gently pinged:   “If you’re free, could you take a look?” Of course she logged in.   Of course she handled it.   And by Monday, the cultural shift was complete: Leave = location change, not a boundary.   A founder’s instinct had quietly become a system. Pattern 1: The Generous Micromanager Modern micromanagement rarely looks aggressive. It looks thoughtful :   “Let me refine this so you’re not stuck.” “I’ll review it quickly.”   “Share drafts so we stay aligned.”   Leaders believe they’re being helpful. Teams hear:   “You don’t fully trust me.” “I should check with you before finishing anything.”   “My decisions aren’t final.” Gentle micromanagement shrinks ownership faster than harsh micromanagement ever did because people can’t challenge kindness. Pattern 2: Cultural conditioning around availability In many Indian workplaces, “time off” has an unspoken footnote: Be reachable. Just in case. No one says it directly.   No one pushes back openly.   The expectation survives through habit: Leave… but monitor messages. Rest… but don’t disconnect. Recover… but stay alert. Contrast this with a global team we worked with: A designer wrote,   “I’ll be off Friday, but available if needed.” Her manager replied:   “If you’re working on your off-day, we mismanaged the workload… not the boundary.”   One conversation.   Two cultural philosophies.   Two completely different emotional outcomes.   Pattern 3: The override reflex Every founder has a version of this reflex.   Whenever Rohit sensed risk, real or imagined, he stepped in: Rewriting copy.   Adjusting a design.   Rescoping a task.   Reframing an email. Always fast.   Always polite.   Always “just helping.” But each override delivered one message:   “Your autonomy is conditional.” You own decisions…   until the founder feels uneasy.   You take initiative…   until instinct replaces delegation.   No confrontation.   No drama.   Just quiet erosion of confidence.   The family-business amplification Boundary collapse becomes extreme in family-managed companies.   We worked with one firm where four family members… founder, spouse, father, cousin… all had informal authority. Everyone cared.   Everyone meant well.   But for employees, decision-making became a maze: Strategy approved by the founder.   Aesthetics by the spouse.   Finance by the father. Tone by the cousin.   They didn’t need leadership.   They needed clarity.   Good intentions without boundaries create internal anarchy. The global contrast A European product team offered a striking counterexample.   There, the founder rarely intervened mid-stream… not because of distance, but because of design:   “If you own the decision, you own the consequences.” Decision rights were clear.   Escalation paths were explicit.   Authority didn’t shift with mood or urgency. No late-night edits.   No surprise rewrites.   No “quick checks.”   No emotional overrides. As one designer put it:   “If my boss wants to intervene, he has to call a decision review. That friction protects my autonomy.” The result:   Faster execution, higher ownership and zero emotional whiplash. Boundaries weren’t personal.   They were structural .   That difference changes everything. Why boundary collapse is so costly Its damage is not dramatic.   It’s cumulative.   People stop resting → you get presence, not energy.   People stop taking initiative → decisions freeze.   People stop trusting empowerment → autonomy becomes theatre.   People start anticipating the boss → performance becomes emotional labour.   People burn out silently → not from work, but from vigilance.   Boundary collapse doesn’t create chaos.   It creates hyper-alertness, the heaviest tax on any team. The real paradox Leaders think they’re being supportive. Teams experience supervision.   Leaders assume boundaries are obvious. Teams see boundaries as fluid. Leaders think autonomy is granted. Teams act as though autonomy can be revoked at any moment. This is the Boundary Collapse → a misunderstanding born not from intent, but from the invisible weight of power. Micromanagement today rarely looks like anger.   More often,   it looks like kindness without limits. (Rahul Kulkarni is Co-founder at PPS Consulting. He patterns the human mechanics of scaling where workplace behavior quietly shapes business outcomes. Views personal.)

A beacon of hope for rural athletes

Updated: Oct 22, 2024

How Akash Shinde transformed from a shy village boy to a prominent kabaddi player

beacon of hope

Mumbai: In the heart of Nashik's Adgaon village, a young boy Akash Shinde dared to dream big. Little did he know that his journey from playing in the muddy grounds of his town to becoming a PKL winner would inspire a generation of aspiring athletes.


“Initially, when I used to play, I would come home with bruises because Kabaddi was played in the mud,” Akash recalls as he enters his fourth season with the Puneri Paltan. And despite his family's initial concerns, his passion for kabaddi burned bright, fuelled by the unwavering support of his early mentors Sagar Malwade and Vinod Labde.


His path to success was far from smooth. He faced numerous setbacks, failing to make the cut in his first attempts at various levels. “I fell short in my first attempts at all levels. I went for my senior camp for Maharashtra and fell short there too!”


But instead of letting these failures discourage him, Akash used them as stepping stones. “These setbacks kept me determined, and I knew I needed to try harder and with renewed energy to show the world what I could do and achieve.”


His breakthrough came in 2019 at a seniors’ trial in Nashik. This performance opened doors, leading him to play in the Junior Nationals and eventually catching the eye of Yuva Paltan, which is the Puneri Paltan’s academy.


The turning point in Akash’s career came when he represented his college in Beed, earning his first chance to play for Maharashtra. Under the guidance of Anil Jagdale and Kailas Jagdale, his skills flourished. His journey accelerated as he moved from Mahindra & Mahindra to Yuva Paltan, where mentors like Sangram and Ashok helped refine his game.


Akash’s PKL debut with Puneri Paltan in Season 8 was a moment of immense pride, not just for him but for his entire village. “No player from the Nashik region had made it to PKL or even the Maharashtra team, so it was a shock, a pleasant one, for everyone. The entire Nashik district was very happy. It felt really good,” he reminisces.


But it was in Season 9 that he truly announced his arrival, becoming a formidable force on the mat. In the 22 matches that Akash played on the way to his first PKL final, he scored 139 raid points, averaging 6.32 raid point per match.


His performances caught the eye of the national selectors, earning him a spot on the Indian team for the Asian Games. “I received my Team India kit on the 27th of October. I still remember it,” he says.


The crowning glory came in PKL Season 10 when Akash, along with his Puneri Paltan teammates, lifted the coveted trophy. Albeit playing a diminished role, he managed an impressive 56 raid points in the 13 matches he played. “There was only one target then... we had made up our minds that we had to win the title this season, whatever it took,” he shared, reflecting on the team’s collective determination. Now, Akash stands as a beacon of hope for young athletes from rural India. His message to them is clear: “Keep believing in yourselves and your dedication and efforts.” He emphasizes the importance of loyalty, urging young players to stay true to the clubs that nurture them.


As he prepares for PKL Season 11, his journey from the muddy grounds of Adgaon to the bright lights of Pro Kabaddi serves as a testament to the power of dreams, determination, and unwavering support.

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