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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.)

Past Imperfect

Updated: Mar 17


Mughal

Thirteen individuals, including five minors, now find themselves on the wrong side of the law in Maharashtra. Their crime? Posting social media messages glorifying Mughal emperor Aurangzeb. The Solapur police booked them under various sections of the Bharatiya Nyaya Sanhita, citing not only the celebration of Aurangzeb but also derogatory remarks about Chhatrapati Shivaji Maharaj and Chhatrapati Sambhaji Maharaj.


Every few months, a new provocation in form of social media posts or calls to remove Aurangzeb’s tomb resurrects the historical battle lines between Marathas and Mughals. But the persistence of Aurangzeb’s glorification in some quarters, despite his widely reviled legacy, raises an uncomfortable question: Why, three centuries after his death, do some still seek to celebrate him?


The simple answer is they shouldn’t. Aurangzeb, by any rational historical measure, is unworthy of reverence. He was a ruler whose religious bigotry and ceaseless warfare bled the Mughal Empire dry. His reimposition of the jizya tax, his destruction of temples, and his brutal execution of Guru Tegh Bahadur and Sambhaji Maharaj were not acts of benevolence but of intolerance and tyranny. Even within his own family, he was ruthless - imprisoning his father, executing his brothers and ruling through sheer force.


Yet, despite this record, some sections of the Muslim community in Maharashtra still treat him as a historical icon. This is not only misguided but politically self-defeating. If Indian Muslims must look for historical figures to admire, why Aurangzeb? Why not his great-grandfather, Akbar, whose policies of religious pluralism made the Mughal Empire strong? Why not Sir Syed Ahmad Khan, whose emphasis on education and reform helped modernize Muslim society? Why not Dr. APJ Abdul Kalam, a man of science, vision, and nation-building?


The glorification of Aurangzeb, like the glorification of Nathuram Godse by certain elements of the Hindu right, represents the worst impulses of historical revisionism. Both figures, though representing vastly different ideologies, share one thing in common: their legacies are defined by division and destruction. To celebrate them is to celebrate an India where sectarian hatred triumphs over unity. If those eulogizing Aurangzeb in Solapur deserve legal scrutiny, so too do those garlanding Godse’s statues.


This fixation on Aurangzeb, however, serves neither Hindus nor Muslims. Maharashtra, a state with a formidable economic and industrial base, has far more pressing concerns - agrarian distress, unemployment, infrastructure bottlenecks. Yet, political discourse is increasingly being dominated by symbolic battles over a long-dead emperor.


More dangerously, this historical obsession fuels communal tensions. The individuals in Solapur who chose to venerate Aurangzeb likely did so not out of deep historical conviction but as an act of defiance in an increasingly polarized landscape. The more Aurangzeb is vilified by one side, the more he becomes a countercultural symbol for the other - an unhealthy cycle that serves no one but politicians eager to keep the flames of identity politics burning.


Maharashtra, and India at large, would do well to move beyond Aurangzeb. There is no pride to be found in eulogizing a ruler whose policies were regressive and destructive. Nor is there wisdom in continually reviving his spectre to stoke modern-day conflicts.


 

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