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By:

Rashmi Kulkarni

23 March 2025 at 2:58:52 pm

Loss Aversion Is Why Your Good Idea Fails

Your upgrade is their loss until you prove otherwise. Last week, Rahul wrote about a simple truth: you’re not inheriting a business, you’re inheriting an equilibrium. This week, I want to talk about the most common reason that equilibrium fights back even when your idea is genuinely sensible. Here it is, in plain language: People don’t oppose improvement. They oppose loss disguised as improvement. When you step into a legacy MSME, most things are still manual, informal, relationship-driven....

Loss Aversion Is Why Your Good Idea Fails

Your upgrade is their loss until you prove otherwise. Last week, Rahul wrote about a simple truth: you’re not inheriting a business, you’re inheriting an equilibrium. This week, I want to talk about the most common reason that equilibrium fights back even when your idea is genuinely sensible. Here it is, in plain language: People don’t oppose improvement. They oppose loss disguised as improvement. When you step into a legacy MSME, most things are still manual, informal, relationship-driven. People have built their own ways of keeping work moving. It’s not perfect, but it’s familiar. When you introduce a new system, a new rule, a new “professional way,” you may be adding order but you’re also removing something  they were using to survive. And humans react more strongly to removals than additions. Behavioral economists Daniel Kahneman and Amos Tversky called this loss aversion where we feel losses more sharply than we feel gains. That’s why your promised “future benefit” struggles to compete with someone’s immediate fear. Which seat are you stepping into? Inherited seat:  People assume you’ll change things quickly to “prove yourself”. They brace for loss even before you speak. Hired seat:  People watch for hidden agendas: “New boss means new rules, new blame.” They protect themselves. Promoted seat:  Your peers worry the old friendship is now replaced by authority. They fear loss of comfort and access. Different seats, same emotion underneath: don’t take away what keeps me safe. Weighing Scale Think of an old kirana shop. The weighing scale may not be fancy, but it’s trusted. The shopkeeper has used it for years. Customers have seen it. Everyone has settled into that comfort. Now imagine someone walks in and says, “We’re upgrading your weighing scale. This is digital. More accurate. More modern.” Sounds good, right? But what does the shopkeeper hear ? “My customers might think the old scale was wrong.” (loss of trust) “I won’t be able to adjust for small realities.” (loss of flexibility) “If the digital scale shows something different, I’ll be accused.” (loss of safety) “This was my shop. Now someone else is deciding.” (loss of control) So even if the new scale is better, the shopkeeper will resist or accept it politely and quietly return to the old one when nobody is watching. That is exactly what happens in companies. Modernisation Pitch Most leaders pitch change like this: “We’ll become world-class.” “We’ll digitize.” “We’ll improve visibility.” “We’ll build a process-driven culture.” But for the listener, these are not benefits. These are threats, because they translate into losses: Visibility can mean exposure . Process can mean loss of discretion . Digitization can mean loss of speed  (at least initially). “Professional” can mean loss of status  for the old guard. So the person across the table is not debating your logic. They’re calculating their losses. Practical Way Watch what happens when you propose something simple like daily reporting. You say: “It’s just 10 minutes. Basic discipline.” They hear: “Daily reporting means daily scrutiny.” “If numbers dip, I will be questioned.” “If I show the truth, it will create conflict.” “If I don’t show the truth, I’ll be accused later.” In their mind, the safest response is: nod, agree, delay. Then you label them “resistant.” But they’re not resisting change. They’re resisting loss . Leader’s Job If you want adoption in an MSME, don’t sell modernization as “upgrade”. Sell it as protection . Instead of: “We need an ERP.” Try: “We need to stop money leakage and order confusion.” Instead of: “We need systems.” Try: “We need fewer customer escalations and less rework.” Instead of: “We need transparency.” Try: “We need fewer surprises at month-end.” This is not manipulation. This is translation. You’re speaking the language the system understands: risk, leakage, blame, customer loss, cash loss, fatigue. Field Test: Rewrite your pitch in loss-prevention language Pick one change you’re pushing this month. Now write two versions: Version A (your current pitch): What you normally say: upgrade, modern, efficiency, best practices. Version B (loss prevention pitch): Use this template: What are we losing today?  (money, time, customers, reputation, peace) Where is the leakage happening?  (handoffs, approvals, rework, vendor delays) What small protection will this change create? (fewer disputes, faster closure, less follow-up) What will not change?  (no layoffs, no humiliation, no sudden policing) What proof will we show in 2 weeks?  (one metric, one visible win) Now do one more important step: For your top 3 stakeholders, write the one loss they think they will face  if your change happens. Don’t argue with it. Just name it. Because once you name the fear, you can design around it. The close If you remember only one thing from this week, remember this: A “good idea” is not enough in a legacy MSME. People need to feel safe adopting it. You don’t have to dilute your standards. You just have to stop selling change like a TED talk and start selling it like a protection plan. Next week, we’ll deal with another invisible force that keeps companies stuck even when they agree with you: the status quo isn’t a baseline. It’s a competitor. (The writer is CEO of PPS Consulting, can be reached at rashmi@ppsconsulting.biz )

The Misunderstood Chhatrapati

Updated: Mar 3, 2025

Regardless of the merits of the films being made on Chhatrapati Sambhaji Maharaj, his legacy deserves its own reckoning.

cahhatrapati Sambhaji Maharaj

With ‘Chhava,’ the Vicky Kaushal-starrer based of the late Shivaji Sawant’s acclaimed book crossing the Rs. 500 crore mark globally in less than two weeks, and a raft of films on Chhatrapati Sambhaji Maharaj released last year (among them ‘Dharmarakshak Mahaveer Chhatrapati Sambhaji Maharaj’ and ‘Shivrayancha Chhava’) Chhatrapati Shivaji Maharaj’s son is firmly in the national consciousness. Yet for much of history, Chhatrapati Sambhaji Maharaj has existed in the margins, a figure eclipsed by the legend of his great father and, later, the rise of the Maratha empire.


History is often cruel to those who come after great men. Chhatrapati Sambhaji Maharaj, the son of the great Chhatrapati Shivaji Maharaj, has long been overshadowed by the towering legacy of his father. While the Maratha empire owes its foundation to the latter, it was Chhatrapati Sambhaji Maharaj who took on the mantle in turbulent times, facing enemies both within and outside his fledgling kingdom. If history is to be recast with a fairer lens, it would reveal a ruler of exceptional resilience, a warrior who, though doomed by intrigue and betrayal, waged a ceaseless struggle against the mighty Mughal empire.


To read Chhatrapati Sambhaji Maharaj merely as a tragic figure is to miss the larger drama of his life. His story is not one of squandered potential but of a man who was born into an impossible war and chose to fight rather than bow.


When Chhatrapati Shivaji Maharaj died in 1680, the kingdom he had carved out of the Deccan was still young, its foundations unsteady. The Marathas were not yet an empire but a confederation of ambitious warlords bound by the sheer will and genius of King’s vision. His death triggered a succession crisis. Chhatrapati Rajaram Maharaj, Shivaji Maharaj’s younger son, was backed by a faction led by his second wife Soyarabai. Chhatrapati Sambhaji Maharaj, though the rightful heir as the elder son, executed the plotters and established his authority.


Unlike his father, who had perfected guerrilla warfare against the Mughals, Chhatrapati Sambhaji Maharaj was thrust into the thick of battle almost immediately, inheriting a Maratha state facing an existential crisis. Mughal emperor Aurangzeb had left Delhi to personally lead a massive military campaign in the Deccan. His goal was the complete destruction of the Marathas and the Deccani Sultanates of Bijapur and Golconda. Chhatrapati Sambhaji Maharaj, just 23 when he took the throne in 1681, had to fight an empire at the peak of its power.


Yet if Aurangzeb expected an easy conquest, he badly miscalculated. Chhatrapati Sambhaji Maharaj did not merely defend – he attacked. He launched raids deep into Mughal territory, forcing the emperor to divert troops and resources away from his primary campaign. By a twist of fate, the rebellion of Prince Akbar, Aurangzeb’s beloved son was to have fateful consequences for Chhatrapati Sambhaji Maharaj.


The story of Akbar’s rebellion is one of the lesser-known dramas of Mughal history. Disillusioned by his father’s rigid orthodoxy, Akbar, who was sent to subjugate the Rathores during the Rajput revolt of 1679, allied with them.


However, the wily Aurangzeb outmanoeuvred his son, forcing Akbar, along with the valiant Durgadas Rathore, to seek asylum with Chhatrapati Sambhaji Maharaj in the Deccan.


For a brief moment, there was the possibility of a joint Maratha-Rajput-Mughal resistance against the emperor. If this had materialized, Aurangzeb would have faced an insurmountable challenge. Unfortunately, the Marathas, stretched thin by war, could not fully commit to Akbar’s cause. By 1685, the rebel prince had slipped away to Persia, where he would live out his days in exile. Chhatrapati Sambhaji Maharaj, however, remained undeterred. His war against the Mughals continued.


His military campaigns, though often overlooked, were remarkable. As detailed by Govind Sakharam Sardesai in his classic ‘New History of the Marathas’ (1946), Chhatrapati Sambhaji Maharaj led successful incursions into the Mughal-held territories of Malwa, plundering Burhanpur in 1681, a move that rattled Aurangzeb’s confidence. He also outmanoeuvred Portuguese forces in Goa and fought the Siddis, ensuring that the Marathas retained their dominance along the Konkan coastline. Had he been given time, he might have further expanded his father’s vision, making the Maratha empire not just a regional power but a dominant force in the subcontinent.


But time was not on his side. In 1689, betrayal led to his capture by the Mughals. The torturous end that followed, days of relentless agony ending in his brutal execution, is among the more horrifying episodes of Indian history. It is also a glorious example of man battling superhuman odds to preserve his faith.


If Aurangzeb expected the Marathas to cower in fear, he miscalculated. As Jadunath Sarkar and G.S. Sardesai observe, Chhatrapati Sambhaji Maharaj’s martyrdom galvanized the Maratha people, who rose as one against Mughal tyranny to avenge their ruler’s death, thus sowing the seeds of an empire that would eventually outlive the Mughals themselves.


The real tragedy of Chhatrapati Sambhaji Maharaj is not that he died young, but that history has failed to place him in the pantheon of India’s great rulers. He was not just the son of a great king but a ruler who stood against the most powerful empire of his time and refused to kneel. And in that refusal, he secured his place in history, not as a failure, but as a warrior who never surrendered.

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