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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.)

Maharashtra’s War Over Voter Rolls

Updated: Oct 18

Rahul Gandhi’s ‘Vote Chor, Gaddi Chhod’ slogan may have united Maharashtra’s bickering opposition, but slogans seldom clean up democracy’s paperwork.

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Vote Chor, Gaddi Chhod (“Thief of Votes, Vacate the Chair”) is Congress scion Rahul Gandhi’s latest attempt to distil outrage into rhyme. In Maharashtra, the phrase has found a tentative audience. Congress workers have taken it to rallies, Shiv Sena (Uddhav Balasaheb Thackeray) leaders have repeated it at press meets, and even Raj Thackeray, long allergic to Congress rhetoric, has lent his voice. Yet the words have not ignited a mass firestorm. Instead, they have illuminated a more consequential dispute - the integrity of Maharashtra’s voter rolls.


For once, the state’s famously fractious opposition is speaking in one voice. The Maha Vikas Aghadi (MVA) — a marriage of convenience between the Congress, the Nationalist Congress Party (Sharad Pawar faction) and Uddhav Thackeray’s Shiv Sena (UBT) — has been joined by Raj Thackeray’s Maharashtra Navnirman Sena (MNS) to accuse the government of “systemic manipulation.” The unlikely quartet descended twice this week on the State Election Commission in Mumbai, demanding that all local body polls be postponed until a thorough verification of the rolls is completed. Their memorandum spoke of ghost voters, missing names, and entire villages that had somehow vanished from the democratic map.


Ghost voters

Opposition leaders claim that tens of thousands of duplicate or fake entries have surfaced in key constituencies, while genuine voters — particularly in urban areas — have been quietly erased. They cite apartment blocks that appear to host hundreds of voters at a single address, and rural talukas where deceased citizens still turn up as eligible electors. Most striking, Congress officials claim that the state’s rolls have swelled by more than four million names in less than a year — a surge they call statistically implausible and politically suspicious.


Raj Thackeray’s involvement has added a sharp Marathi edge to the campaign. Long known for his mercurial politics and anti-migrant rhetoric, his decision to stand alongside the MVA has raised eyebrows. Yet his fiery denunciations have resonated with younger citizens frustrated by bureaucratic apathy. For the MVA, his presence is a mixed blessing: he brings populist energy and media attention but also revives memories of divisive politics that the Congress and NCP would rather forget.


Confused stunt

The ruling Mahayuti government, unsurprisingly, scoffs at the uproar. Chief Minister Devendra Fadnavis has dismissed the ‘Vote Chor’ campaign as a confused stunt by an opposition staring at defeat. The Election Commission, he insisted, functioned independently, and any discrepancies could be addressed through routine corrections.


Officials further argue that civic polls cannot be indefinitely delayed as the Supreme Court has already mandated that local elections proceed within fixed timelines. Continuous revision of rolls, they say, is a standard administrative process and not evidence of fraud.


That defence is technically sound but politically tone-deaf. For most citizens, voter lists are not bureaucratic abstractions but the tangible proof of their democratic existence. A wrong entry or missing name can, in effect, disenfranchise an individual. In close contests (Maharashtra’s urban seats are often decided by a few hundred votes) even minor irregularities can tilt outcomes.


The slogan gives the movement its moral flourish. Few causes sound nobler than defending the right to vote. Yet moral energy seldom translates automatically into political momentum. To turn grievance into movement, it must leave the conference room and enter the polling booth. Voter-verification drives, neighbourhood awareness campaigns and citizen audits are duller than fiery speeches but ultimately more decisive. Unless ordinary voters experience the problem firsthand by discovering their names missing or their addresses mangled, the campaign risks remaining a talking point for television anchors rather than a rallying cry on the streets.


Internal contradictions

The alliance must also manage its internal contradictions. Not everyone in the MVA is thrilled about marching beside Raj Thackeray. His earlier brand of nativist politics sits uneasily with the Congress’s cosmopolitan instincts and the NCP’s coalition pragmatism. Privately, some leaders fret that his presence could alienate Muslim or migrant voters who once backed them. For now, they are papering over these cracks in the name of a larger democratic principle. But Maharashtra’s opposition has a history of unity movements that collapse under the weight of egos long before polling day.


For the ruling Mahayuti, the episode offers both peril and opportunity. Dismissing the allegations outright could feed perceptions of arrogance or malpractice. Embracing transparency, on the other hand, could strengthen its claim to administrative probity. The BJP has often shown a knack for narrative jujitsu by turning accusations into evidence of its own resilience. Expect Fadnavis to frame the controversy as proof that the Opposition fears a fair fight.


Beyond partisan skirmishes lies a deeper malaise. India’s voter lists have long been a labyrinth of clerical errors, overlapping jurisdictions and under-resourced verification. Maharashtra, with its vast urban sprawl and migratory population, is especially prone to discrepancies. Technology has improved the process, but accountability still depends on political will. The state’s Election Commission insists it conducts continuous revisions; opposition parties counter that such revisions often occur without field verification. Both are partly right and neither inspires full confidence.


The stakes are high. The local body polls will serve as a prelude to the assembly election that will test both Fadnavis’s stewardship and the opposition’s capacity for cohesion. If doubts about the rolls persist, every result will be litigated in the court of public opinion.


It will deepen cynicism among citizens who already suspect that elections are mere rituals managed by the powerful. The opposition’s task, then, is not simply to shout louder but to act smarter by converting suspicion into civic participation rather than indulging in yet another slogan war.


(The writer is a political observer. Views personal.)


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