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By:

Rahul Kulkarni

30 March 2025 at 3:32:54 pm

When Meritocracy Starts to Feel Like Favoritism

At The Workshop, nobody said it aloud. But everyone felt it. It wasn’t a policy. It wasn’t a memo. It was a pattern. The founder, Rohit, had a rhythm … a gravitational pull toward certain people. The ones he brainstormed with, called into client meetings, turned to for “quick feedback”. It didn’t look like favoritism. But it didn’t feel like meritocracy either. And that’s where the distortion begins … not in what leaders intend, but in what teams observe. Two months after the grand town hall,...

When Meritocracy Starts to Feel Like Favoritism

At The Workshop, nobody said it aloud. But everyone felt it. It wasn’t a policy. It wasn’t a memo. It was a pattern. The founder, Rohit, had a rhythm … a gravitational pull toward certain people. The ones he brainstormed with, called into client meetings, turned to for “quick feedback”. It didn’t look like favoritism. But it didn’t feel like meritocracy either. And that’s where the distortion begins … not in what leaders intend, but in what teams observe. Two months after the grand town hall, the strategy wasn't what people were trying to decode anymore. They were decoding proximity: Who does Rohit trust? Who gets access without asking? Whose mistakes are overlooked? Whose ideas make it to execution? There were no formal rules for this. But everyone was learning them. And Rohit? He had no idea. Because in his mind, he was just moving with speed while leaning on the people who “got it” fastest. But what the team saw was something else: A quiet hierarchy of influence. One built not on titles, but on closeness. That moment It happened during a Friday sprint retro. Aman proposed a workflow change. Bold, unconventional … the kind of idea Rohit usually encouraged. But instead of responding, Rohit turned to Meera: “Let’s hold that thought. Meera, what do you think?” Meera had worked with him the longest. Her judgment was sharp. Trusted. But to everyone else in the room: Aman felt dismissed. The interns updated their playbook: “Run bold ideas through Meera.” The ops lead made a mental note: “Pitch safely, not directly.” Rohit hadn’t intended to promote a gatekeeper. But in that moment, the team had just created one. Favoritism before leaders Because leaders operate from intention. Teams live with impact. Rohit didn’t like Meera more. He simply trusted her process. She could take his half-sentence and turn it into action without much translation. He wasn’t rewarding loyalty. He was rewarding ease. But that distinction doesn’t matter when the team sees the same voices dominate every meeting. Familiarity starts looking like favoritism. And culture quietly reshapes around that perception. Echo chamber Most founders don’t wake up wanting to build echo chambers. They just gravitate … toward the people who mirror their speed, their style, their language. Here’s what happens: The founder starts ideating more with “trusted” voices. Those voices gain unofficial influence. Everyone else speaks less – not from fear, but from futility. Decision quality drops. Alignment fractures. Initiative dies. Before you know it, you’re not building a meritocracy. You’re building a familiarity loop. And in fast-growth companies, loops are sticky. Real case In a national sales team we worked with, the VP insisted decisions were data-driven. Until we ran a blind assessment. A top performer was barely visible. A mid-level player got promoted … not because of results, but because she was always in the VP’s orbit. A high-potential new joiner was overlooked because he didn’t “sound confident”. When we showed the gap, the VP was stunned. What he thought was merit… was actually compatibility. In a factory setup, a supervisor promoted the wrong person for three cycles in a row. Not due to bias. Due to comfort. He chose: The one who never challenged him. The one who echoed his thinking. The one who felt “safe.” Meanwhile, the real performers watched quietly. One line worker summed it up best: “Performance is for the reports. Promotions are for the familiar.” Team effect The damage isn’t instant. It’s cumulative. First, people stop pitching bold ideas. Then, they stop asking questions. Eventually, they stop trying to compete at all. Because the game feels rigged… even if it’s not. And that’s the real cost of the Power Paradox. The leader thinks they’re being objective. The team experiences a hierarchy of trust. Real paradox Founders say, “We’re a meritocracy.” The team replies, “Then why does the same inner circle always win?” They’re not wrong. Neither is the founder. Because power isn’t about what you say. It’s about how often you say it to the same people. And when that circle goes unexamined, it quietly shapes a culture where: Familiarity outruns contribution, access outranks talent, and initiative dies before it begins. Meritocracy is not just what you believe. It’s what your team can see. (Rahul Kulkarni is Co-founder at PPS Consulting. He writes about the human mechanics of growth where systems evolve, and emotions learn to keep up. Views personal. Write to rahul@ppsconsulting.biz)

When Last Words Become Evidence: The Forensic Lens on Suicide Notes

A suicide note can be heartfelt truth — or deliberate fabrication. Forensic science helps tell the difference.

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Every year, countless lives end in tragedy, often leaving behind a few handwritten lines or a digital message — a suicide note. These notes, though brief, carry immense emotional and investigative weight. They are not just words written in despair. They often hold vital clues about the writer’s state of mind and the reasons behind the act. And sometimes even indicate whether the death was truly a suicide or something made to look like one.


A suicide note is any written, typed, or recorded message left by a person before taking their own life. It may express remorse, assign blame, or attempt to explain the decision. While many assume these notes straightforwardly reflect the deceased’s intent, forensic experts know that appearances can be deceptive. Some notes are fabricated, dictated, or written under pressure — making forensic examination essential for truth and justice.


Forensic experts analyse suicide notes with precision, combining science, psychology, and linguistics. Every detail becomes evidence: the handwriting, the ink, the type of paper, even the choice of words. If the handwriting in the note differs from the person’s known writing patterns, it may suggest forgery or coercion. In today’s digital age, investigators also examine messages found on mobile phones, computers, and social media platforms. Digital forensics helps determine whether the person actually authored the message or if it was created or edited at a later time.


Beyond physical and digital analysis, psychologists and forensic linguists study the tone and emotional language of suicide notes. They look for indicators of depression, hopelessness, guilt, or anger. Linguistic markers such as repetition, abrupt changes in tone, or disorganised thought patterns can reflect a disturbed state of mind. Each word, phrase, and punctuation mark can help reconstruct the emotional landscape of the writer’s final moments.


The Supreme Court of India has often relied on suicide notes as crucial evidence in abetment to suicide cases. A landmark judgement in Gurcharan Singh vs State of Punjab (2020) highlighted the importance of careful interpretation. The Court held that if a suicide note specifically names an individual and there is strong evidence of mental harassment or provocation, that person may be charged under Section 306 of the Indian Penal Code for abetment to suicide.


However, if the note merely expresses sorrow or emotional distress without directly implicating anyone, it cannot be treated as proof against another person. This distinction underscores the need for a balanced approach — where emotion and evidence are weighed with equal care.


In India, several experts contribute to the forensic and psychological study of suicide notes. Among them are Dr Updesh Kumar, a leading psychologist; Dr Anil Aggrawal, a renowned professor of forensic medicine; and Dr Asha Srivastava, Dean at the School of Behavioural Forensics, National Forensic Sciences University, known for her work in forensic psychology. Their analyses often assist law enforcement and the judiciary in interpreting the scientific and emotional authenticity of suicide notes.


While forensic science plays a crucial role in uncovering the truth, society too must play its part in prevention. Suicide is not merely a legal or forensic issue—it is a profound human tragedy.


Behind every note lies a voice that felt unheard, a mind that felt trapped, and a heart that sought peace. Recognising signs of distress—such as withdrawal, hopelessness, or talk of self-harm—and offering empathy can save lives. Listening without judgement and encouraging professional help are small yet powerful steps toward prevention.


India has several organisations that offer emotional support and crisis counselling. Helplines such as AASRA (91-9820466726) and Snehi (91-9582208181) provide confidential assistance to those in distress.


In the end, the forensic study of suicide notes is not only about establishing authenticity or assigning legal responsibility; it is also about understanding the silent cry for help behind those words.


If society learns to recognise that cry earlier, many such notes would never need to be written. Every life matters, and through science, empathy, and awareness, we can ensure that despair is met with understanding—not silence.


(Dr. Kumar is a former IPS officer and forensic consultant to Assam government. Das is a student of FSU, Guwahati. Views personal.)

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