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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.)

Dhruv Jurel: The Steady Hand to Fix India’s Wicketkeeping Woes in Tests

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In the relentless grind of Test cricket, where endurance trumps explosiveness, India’s wicketkeeping conundrum has long centered on Rishabh Pant. The Delhi dynamite burst onto the scene in 2018 like a thunderclap, his audacious strokeplay injecting white-ball flair into the longest format. But nearly a decade later, as of October 2025, Pant’s tenure feels like a high-wire act teetering on the edge of brilliance and breakdown. Injuries, inconsistencies, and the occasional glovework gaffe have left selectors—and fans—yearning for stability. Enter Dhruv Jurel, the unassuming Uttar Pradesh keeper whose quiet competence is emerging as the antidote to the “Pant problem.”


At 24, Jurel isn’t here to dazzle; he’s here to deliver. A deeper dive into their batting and keeping stats reveals why he could be the long-term fix India needs.


Let’s start with the bat, where Pant’s pyrotechnics have both thrilled and frustrated. Across 50 Tests (as per updated ESPNcricinfo figures through the 2025 England series), Pant has amassed 3,512 runs in 89 innings at an average of 42.3 and a blistering strike rate of 75.2. His highest score remains 146, not out against Australia in 2021, with seven centuries and 13 fifties to his name. Peaks like his twin hundreds (134 and 118) in the 2025 Lord’s Test—making him the first Indian to achieve that in England—underscore his genius.


Pant thrives in chaos, turning deficits into dominance with ramps, scoops, and helicopter shots that defy convention. Yet, the troughs are telling: post his horrific 2022 car crash, his average dipped below 35 in 2024-25, plagued by 12 single-digit scores in his last 20 innings. His aggression, while revolutionary, often borders on recklessness—28 per cent of dismissals via rash shots against spin.


Contrast this with Jurel’s poise. In just six Tests since his 2024 debut, the right-hander has notched 422 runs in nine innings at a mature average of 53.0 and a measured strike rate of 62.4. His highest now stands at 125—a maiden Test century against West Indies in Ahmedabad just days ago, where he anchored a 206-run stand with Ravindra Jadeja to swell India’s lead to 286. Before that knock, Jurel’s 90 in Ranchi (2024) had already hinted at his mettle, rescuing India from 33/3 with Sarfaraz Khan. No centuries prior, but two fifties in limited opportunities speak to efficiency over extravagance. Jurel’s game is built on fundamentals: a compact defense, crisp drives, and an uncanny ability to rotate strike under duress. In the ongoing West Indies series, his square-of-the-wicket artistry—three boundaries in an over off seamers—showed flair without folly. Statistically, he’s unbeaten in four of his last six innings, with only 11 per cent dismissals to loose shots. Where Pant accelerates to 80+ scores then implodes, Jurel grinds to 40s and 50s, converting 60 per cent of them into bigger tallies. In an era of Bazball influences, Jurel’s old-school solidity—reminiscent of a young MS Dhoni—offers India the middle-order ballast Pant’s volatility disrupts.


Now, to the gloves, where the “Pant problem” truly festers. Pant’s keeping ledger in 50 Tests reads 132 dismissals: 115 catches and 17 stumpings, at a match average of 2.64 per game. His athleticism shines in seaming conditions—think those leaping one-handers in Sydney 2021—but lapses abound. In 2025 alone, he’s erred five times (dropped catches and byes), per Hawk-Eye reviews, costing wickets in the Border-Gavaskar Trophy. His 13 per cent missed stumping rate against spin, exacerbated by over-aggression, has irked captains like Rohit Sharma.


Pant’s keeping, like his batting, is high-risk: brilliant when on, but prone to rust when fatigued or nursing niggles. Jurel, conversely, is a study in reliability. In his six Tests, he’s claimed 18 dismissals—16 catches, two stumpings—for a stellar 3.0 per match. No errors recorded in 2025 outings, with a 100 per cent sharp-keeping rate in the West Indies Test. His footwork is textbook: low, balanced, and anticipatory, allowing him to pouch edges off pacers like Jason Holder with ease. Against spin, Jurel’s stumpings are surgical—two in Ranchi alone, outfoxing England’s Ollie Pope. At 5’11”, he’s not the tallest, but his soft hands and quick reflexes minimise byes (under 5 per cent of overs kept). Mentored by Dhoni in IPL, Jurel’s visualisation techniques—admitted post his century—keep him “always ready,” translating to fewer fluffs under lights or on wearers. In a team rotating keepers amid Pant’s absences (he’s missed eight Tests since 2023), Jurel’s error-free ledger builds trust, freeing bowlers like Jasprit Bumrah to attack without second-guessing.


So, why Jurel as the solution? India’s Test campaign hinges on lower-order resilience, not fireworks. Pant, now 28, embodies the chaos of youth; his IPL 2025 struggles (average 12.8, strike rate 99) bleed into red-ball doubts. Jurel, with his 53 average and glove-gold standard, addresses both facets holistically. He’s not Pant’s heir in bravado, but in balance. Give him 20 Tests, and watch India reclaim the keeper’s throne—not with sizzle, but with substance.


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

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