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By:

Rashmi Kulkarni

23 March 2025 at 2:58:52 pm

Making a New Normal Feel Obvious

Normal is not what’s written. Normal is what repeats. The temple bell rings at the same time every day. Not everyone prays. Not everyone even walks in. Some people don’t care at all. And yet when that bell rings, the whole neighborhood syncs. Shops open, chores move, calls pause. The bell doesn’t convince anyone. It simply creates rhythm. That’s how “normal” is built inside a legacy MSME too. Not by speeches. By repetition. Quick recap: Week 1: You inherited an equilibrium. Week 2: People...

Making a New Normal Feel Obvious

Normal is not what’s written. Normal is what repeats. The temple bell rings at the same time every day. Not everyone prays. Not everyone even walks in. Some people don’t care at all. And yet when that bell rings, the whole neighborhood syncs. Shops open, chores move, calls pause. The bell doesn’t convince anyone. It simply creates rhythm. That’s how “normal” is built inside a legacy MSME too. Not by speeches. By repetition. Quick recap: Week 1: You inherited an equilibrium. Week 2: People resist loss, not improvement. Week 3: Status quo wins when your new way is harder. Week 4 is the next problem: even when your idea is good and even when it is easy, it can still fail because people don’t move together. One team starts. Another team waits. One person follows. Another person quietly returns to the old way. So, the old normal comes back … not because your idea was wrong, but because your new normal never became normal. Which Seat? • Inherited : people expect direction, but they only shift when they see what you consistently protect. • Hired : people wait for proof “Is this just a corporate habit you’ll drop in a month?” • Promoted : people watch whether you stay consistent under pressure. Now here’s the useful idea from Thomas Schelling: a “focal point”. Don’t worry about the term. In simple words, it means: you don’t need everyone convinced. You need one clear anchor that everyone can align around. In a legacy MSME, that anchor is rarely a policy document. It’s not a rollout email. It’s a ritual. Why Rituals? These firms run on informal rules, relationships, memory, and quick calls. That flexibility keeps work moving, but it also makes change socially risky. Even supportive people hesitate because they’re thinking: “If I follow this and others don’t, I’ll look foolish.” “If I share real numbers, will I become the target?” “If I push this new flow, will I upset a senior person?” “If I do it properly, will it slow me down?” When people feel that risk, they wait. And waiting is how the status quo survives. A focal ritual breaks the waiting. It sends one clean signal: “This is real. This is how we work now.” Focal Ritual It’s a short, fixed review that repeats with the same format. For example: a weekly scoreboard review (15 minutes) a daily dispatch huddle (10 minutes) a fixed purchase-approval window (cutoff + queue) The meeting isn’t the magic. The repetition is. When it repeats without drama, it becomes believable. When it becomes believable, people start syncing to it, even the ones who were unsure. Common Mistake New leaders enter with energy and pressure: “show impact”. So they try to fix reporting, planning, quality, procurement, digitization … everything. The result is predictable. People don’t know what is truly “must follow”. So everything becomes “optional”. They do a little of each, and nothing holds. If you want change to stick, pick one focal ritual and make it sacred. Not forever. Just long enough for the bell to become the bell. Field Test Step 1 : Pick one pain area that creates daily chaos: delayed dispatch, pending purchase approvals, rework, overdue collections. Step 2 : Set the ritual: Fixed time, fixed duration (15 minutes). One scoreboard (one page, one screen). Same three questions every time: – What moved since last time? – What is stuck and why? – What decision is needed today? One owner who closes the loop (decisions + due dates). Step 3 : Protect it for 8 weeks. Don’t cancel because you’re busy. Don’t skip because a VIP came. Don’t “postpone once” because someone complained. I’ve seen a simple weekly dispatch scoreboard die this exact way. Week one was sharp. By week three, it got pushed “just this once” because someone had a client visit. Week four, it moved again for “urgent work”. After that, nobody took it seriously. The old follow-ups returned, and the leader was back to chasing people daily. The first casual cancellation tells the system: “This was a phase”. And the old normal returns fast. One Warning Don’t turn the ritual into policing. If it becomes humiliation, people will hide information. If it becomes shouting, people will stop speaking. If it becomes a lecture, people will mentally leave. Keep it calm. Keep it consistent. Keep it useful. A bell doesn’t shout. It just rings. (The author is Co-founder at PPS Consulting and a business operations advisor. She helps businesses across sectors and geographies improve execution through global best practices. She could be reached at rashmi@ppsconsulting.biz)

Shinde recites Uddhav’s script


Mumbai: Deputy Chief Minister Eknath Shinde’s recent comments, acknowledging that Shiv Sena workers in Dharashiv have expressed feelings of "betrayal" by the Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) within the Mahayuti alliance, mark a pivotal and ironic inflection point in the state’s volatile politics. While Shinde was quick to categorise these sentiments as merely "local" and insisted that contesting independently does not make the allies "foes," the very language he used – the vocabulary of betrayal and discontent – echoes the exact rhetoric Uddhav Thackeray employed before he severed ties with the BJP in 2019.


The profound irony is inescapable. Shinde’s political identity and ascendancy to the Chief Minister’s chair were predicated entirely on his claim that Uddhav Thackeray had betrayed the legacy of Bal Thackeray and the natural Hindutva alliance with the BJP. Yet, two years into his tenure, Shinde finds himself reciting his rival’s script. This apparent contradiction is not a mistake; it is a calculated political move born of profound structural and grassroots compulsions that threaten the integrity of his own Shiv Sena faction.


Grassroots survival

The most immediate compulsion for Shinde lies in the survival of his own organisation at the grassroots level. When Shinde rebelled, he secured the legislative majority, but he did not automatically inherit the entire Shiv Sena structure or the unwavering loyalty of its local functionaries. These workers are the lifeblood of the party, responsible for mobilising votes and maintaining local dominance.


For these local workers, the transition from being the dominant regional power (under the undivided Sena) to a junior partner in the Mahayuti has often meant a palpable loss of power, influence, and access to resources. When the BJP fields its own candidate or prioritizes its local leaders over Shinde’s loyalists in areas like Dharashiv, the local Shiv Sena workers feel marginalised and "betrayed."


Shinde cannot afford to ignore these localized feelings. By publicly acknowledging the "betrayal" sentiment, he is utilising a political safety valve. He is telling his disillusioned cadres: "I hear you. Your anger is valid." This validation is crucial to prevent these cadres from migrating back to the Shiv Sena (UBT) camp, which constantly frames Shinde’s entire faction as having sold out to the BJP. If Shinde were to blindly dismiss their grievances, he would risk accelerating the internal bleeding and delegitimizing the core rationale of his rebellion.


Asserting parity

The fundamental imbalance in the Mahayuti—where the BJP is the numerically and ideologically dominant partner—creates an existential threat for the smaller allies, including Shinde’s Shiv Sena and Ajit Pawar’s Nationalist Congress Party (NCP) faction.


Historically, the BJP has always employed a 'Big Brother' approach, seeking to expand its footprint at the expense of its regional partners. This was precisely the tension that drove Uddhav Thackeray away in 2019. Now, Shinde is facing the same structural pressure. Reports of internal friction—allegations of the BJP attempting to poach Shinde’s functionaries, delays in file clearances for Shiv Sena-held ministries by the Finance Department (Ajit Pawar’s portfolio), or Devendra Fadnavis subtly overshadowing Shinde—all point to a constant, underlying power struggle.


By channelling the "betrayal" lingo, Shinde is sending a clear, diplomatic warning to the central BJP leadership. He is communicating that his political position is not guaranteed by Delhi alone; it depends on the sustained morale and active participation of his Marathi-speaking, Hindutva-aligned base. This soft critique is a necessary negotiating tool to secure better seat distribution, more influential portfolios, and, critically, respect for the political space his faction occupies. He is effectively saying: "We broke away from Uddhav to save the alliance, but don't force us into the same corner he felt pushed into."


Unavoidable reality

Perhaps the deepest compulsion is the unavoidable reality that the Shiv Sena, in any form, needs to maintain a distinct regional identity separate from the BJP’s monolithic national identity. Uddhav Thackeray’s 2019 betrayal narrative revolved around the BJP's national ambition clashing with the Sena's need to lead Maharashtra.


Shinde’s use of the same language, even if quickly qualified, suggests a recognition that the core issue—the BJP’s drive for absolute dominance—persists regardless of who leads the Shiv Sena. The need to carve out a distinct identity for his faction, based on local issues, Marathi pride, and the interests of the actual Shiv Sainik, means Shinde must occasionally stand apart from the BJP’s national agenda.


His statement that mere independent contesting doesn't make them foes is a complex political cipher - it justifies the internal dissent of his workers (by framing the BJP as a competitive force rather than an infallible patron) while simultaneously assuring Delhi that the government is stable.


In essence, Eknath Shinde is caught in a familiar Marathi political cycle. To survive the existential threat from his former party chief, Uddhav Thackeray, Shinde must protect his identity by asserting strength and independence. To assert this strength, he must occasionally use the only effective language regional parties have against a national behemoth: the language of threatened identity and betrayal. His words are less a declaration of war and more a necessary, calculated cry for equal respect within a highly asymmetrical marriage of convenience.

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