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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 Rollercoaster of Runs, Wickets, Whoopsies

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Five Tests, a shiny new trophy named after two cricketing demigods, and enough drama to rival a Bollywood blockbuster. As the dust settles on this latest chapter of India-England rivalry, let’s unpack the key takeaways for Shubman Gill’s young brigade, with a sprinkle of humour and a generous dash of sarcasm. Spoiler alert: it’s a mixed bag of brilliance, blunders, and some serious “what were you thinking?” moments.


India’s batting was like a Diwali sparkler—dazzling at times, but occasionally fizzling out when you least expect it. Yashasvi Jaiswal, Shubman Gill, and Sai Sudharsan lit up the series like firecrackers, reminding us of the Tendulkar-Dravid-Laxman era when centuries were as common as chai stalls in Mumbai. Jaiswal’s fluent strokeplay and Gill’s marathon knocks—especially his record-breaking 269 in the second Test—were pure class. Sudharsan, the new kid on the block, chipped in with half-centuries, proving he’s not just here to carry drinks. Rishabh Pant, the human equivalent of a T20 highlight reel, hobbled through injuries to smack a brave 54 in the fourth Test, cartwheeling his way into our hearts (and probably the physio’s nightmares).


But, oh boy, the collapses! India’s middle order had more meltdowns than a toddler denied ice cream. The first Test saw them go from dreaming of 550-600 to losing seven wickets for 41 runs faster than you can say “tea break.” The fourth Test was no better—314/5 to 349/9 in a blink, as if the batters decided to gift England a comeback wrapped in a bow. Seven batters making between 25 and 65 in one innings? That’s not a scorecard; it’s a masterclass in “how to start well and then forget how to finish.” The pitch was tricky, sure, but when has that ever been an excuse for Indian batters who’ve grown up on dustbowls? Takeaway: the top order is a Ferrari, but the middle order needs to stop driving like it’s stuck in Mumbai traffic.


Bumrah’sbrilliance

If Jasprit Bumrah were a superhero, he’d be Captain Unplayable, zipping through England’s batting like a laser-guided missile. His stock deliveries in the third Test, sneaking through Jofra Archer’s bat-pad gap, were poetry in motion—Dukes ball edition. Mohammed Siraj, the fiery fast bowler, and Akash Deep had their moments, but let’s be honest: they were more like supporting actors in Bumrah’s Oscar-worthy performance. Siraj’s good-length balls and Deep’s nip-backers kept England honest, but consistency was as elusive as a sunny day in London.

The spinners? Oh, dear Ravindra Jadeja, you’re a national treasure, but your “tossed up nicely” deliveries were blocked more often than a spam email. England’s batters treated India’s spin attack like a warm-up session, with Brydon Carse and Jamie Smith casually flicking singles like they were swatting flies. The pace trio carried the load, but the spinners need to rediscover their mojo—perhaps a quick pilgrimage to Chennai’s turning tracks might help. Takeaway: Bumrah is a one-man army, but the bowling unit needs to stop relying on him like he’s the only guy who knows the Wi-Fi password.


Catches win matches

India’s fielding was a comedy of errors that would make even Charlie Chaplin wince. Yashasvi Jaiswal’s half-stop at mid-on was a valiant effort, but the number of times India let balls slip through their fingers was criminal. England’s Ollie Pope and Ben Duckett must’ve been sending thank-you notes for the extra lives. Sure, there were moments of brilliance—Shardul Thakur escaping a run-out thanks to a diving Brydon Carse missing the stumps—but overall, India’s fielding was like watching a drunk uncle attempt yoga at a family reunion.


The huddle before England’s openers came out in the first Test showed intent, but intent doesn’t catch balls. With Rishabh Pant ruled out of fielding due to injury, India’s keeping duties took a hit, and the slip cordon looked like they were practicing social distancing. Takeaway: India needs to channel their inner Jonty Rhodes, because dropped catches and sluggish fielding are the fastest way to turn a winnable match into a “what if” sob story.


The big picture

This Anderson-Tendulkar Trophy was a baptism by fire for India’s young squad. With stalwarts like Kohli and Sharma absent, Gill’s captaincy showed promise but also inexperience. The batting firepower of Jaiswal, Gill, and Sudharsan is a glimpse into a golden future, but they need to learn how to close out innings without imploding. The bowling attack, led by Bumrah’s genius, needs more consistent support from the spinners and pacers to avoid burnout. And the fielding? Let’s just say India could use a few extra fielding drills—or at least a motivational speech from Yuvraj Singh circa 2007.


(The Writer is a senior journalist based in Mumbai. Views personal.)

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