Blog | Klaudia Fryc Mallick

What did Indians teach me about assertiveness?

March 31, 2026 No Comments

What did Indians teach me about assertiveness? I’m OK – You’re OK The simplest (and still the most accurate) way I’d define assertiveness comes from EricBerne’s Transactional Analysis: assertive is a mindset and a way of communicatingthat expresses “I’m OK – You’re OK.” For years I’ve been running assertiveness workshops mostly in European and Americancontexts. Here assertiveness is usually understood quite specifically – as settingboundaries, saying “no,” expressing your opinion. In short, it’s taking care mostly of “I’mOK.” And then COMMUNICATING IT in a way that doesn’t attack or offend the otherperson (for example, by using “I statements”). And yes, this matters. I feel the issue starts when “I’m OK” becomes our main referencepoint. Assertiveness – Indian style When I started working with participants from India, it hit me that I’m only really beginningto understand the other half of the equation: “You’re OK.” During a series of assertiveness trainings for one company, but conducted in differentlocations, I gave participants the same business case studies. Rather regular stuff: ademanding client, a manager with unrealistic expectations, time pressure, and conflictingpriorities in a team. Participants from Poland or the US would usually react fast and to the point: “We needto set a boundary!”; “We need to clearly say this is not possible.”; “We have to manageexpectations here.” Clear, direct, and protecting themselves. Participants from India much more often… paused. And then did a few things thatshifted the frame from “difficult situation → assertive reaction” to something verydifferent: Instead of jumping straight to a response, Indians would often start by trying tounderstand what might be behind the “difficult” behavior. They’d ask and discuss whatkind of pressure the manager might be currently under, what constraints the client mighthave, and what’s happening on the other side. This wasn’t a sign of being passive. It lookedlike a conscious choice to understand the context better before responding or acting. Instead of immediately saying “no,” they would more often start with questions to clarifyexpectations, ask about priorities, and check what actually matters. So instead of thinking:“How do I say I can’t do this?” they would rather engage in a conversation and ask:“What’s most important here?” or “Would it be OK if we did it this way?” Boundarieswere still there, but more often as an outcome of the conversation, not as a starting point. Instead of building arguments for why something isn’t possible, they focused theirenergy on searching for the conditions under which things could work. Sometimes it meant doingit later.Sometimes checking internally with their manager first. But very often it meant a realeffort to meet the other side halfway – even if they could not answer the requestimmediately or fully. I have the sense that in “Western” (or more precisely, individualistic) cultures,assertiveness tends to focus on the individual: “How should I respond?” “How do Iprotect my space?”; “How do I say this is not OK for me?” Participants from India more often looked at the situation systemically, and theyconsidered all stakeholders involved – directly and indirectly. For example, when the situation involved talking to their manager about pushing back onunrealistic client expectations, instead of just setting a boundary with their manager, theywould suggest bringing everyone together on a call. Or solving it at the process level.They were looking at different connections, not just one interaction. Assertiveness 2.0: I’m OK – You’re OK (but for real) Does that mean “the West” is wrong? No. But more and more I feel like ourunderstanding of assertiveness is simply… incomplete. It focuses heavily on directness,boundaries, self-expression, protecting our own resources. At the same time, it looks alittle too less at really trying to understand the other side, building a shared solution, andworking on the relationship (and not just “delivering a well-phrased message”). These workshops really shifted the focus point for me from “How do I set a boundary ina constructive way?” to “How do I try to find a solution where both sides are genuinelyOK?” Yes, sure – there are situations where assertiveness simply means a clear “no.” But veryoften, it invites something else, something possibly a bit harder: pausing before reacting,self-reflection (“What would actually be OK for me here?”), conversation, curiosity, theeffort to look for alternatives. Because real assertiveness doesn’t end with “I’m OK.” It starts when we take “You’reOK” just as seriously.

Sometimes you need support to maintain balance

February 12, 2026 1 Comment

So I have this irregular romance with yoga. We meet intensely for a while, then… we drift apart. You know how it is – life gets busy, travel interferes, children fall sick, work takes over etc. And when I finally come back to the mat after a longer break, two things always greet me: the painful stretch in the back of my legs (ouch, ouch, ouch) and the struggle with balance. The stretching part is expected, since tight hamstrings are my familiar companions. However, the balance struggle surprises me every single time. Especially in positions that look simple. Like The Tree. One foot grounded, the other pressing lightly against the rooted leg, spine tall, breath calm, gaze fixed. In theory, elegant and serene, in practice makes me wobble and perform a funny little dance on the mat. Arrrrgh, quiet frustration. Last month in Kerala, during my first days back on the mat, the Tree tested me again. I was swaying and negotiating with gravity. The teacher noticed. He came closer, gently offering support with his hand. But I waved him off. “I’ll try myself” – I said, a bit embarrassed. He paused for a moment, smiled softly (you know, with that characteristic wiseman smile), and replied: “Sometimes you need support to maintain balance.” That was it. No philosophy lecture, no motivational speech. Just a simple sentence that landed far beyond the yoga mat and stayed with me long after the practice ended. We live in a world that celebrates self-sufficiency. Self-reliance. Independence. Personal strength. Mental toughness. The ability to “figure it out on your own.” Technology reinforces this story even more: you don’t need people that much – just the right tools, apps, systems, AI. With that, you will be faster. More efficient. Less messy. But don’t you feel that in reality, a real balance rarely happens in human isolation? In yoga, support doesn’t mean you’re weak or you can’t do the pose. It means your nervous system needs a moment of safety, your body needs to learns the alignment, and at some point, maybe you won’t need the support anymore. But you needed it THEN. For me it’s been so true also beyond the mat – in business, in leadership, in intercultural work. In life in general. In business, leaders often lose balance not because they lack competence, but because they carry too much alone. The strongest leaders I work with don’t pretend they have all the answers; instead, they actively seek sparring partners, mentors, advisors, and teams who help them think more clearly, notice blind spots, and regain perspective when everything starts to wobble. In intercultural work, balance is rarely achieved in isolation. Navigating different communication styles, expectations, values, and unspoken norms without feedback or support easily leads to frustration, misinterpretation, and unnecessary conflict. Here too, support doesn’t deny competence – it simply accelerates learning and prevents avoidable mistakes. And then there is personal life, where the need for support sooner or later becomes undeniable, no matter how independent, strong, or self-reliant we believe ourselves to be. When we experience loss, heartbreak, illness, burnout, or major life transitions, balance is not something we simply “push through” (although some of us try…). When someone we love dies, when a relationship ends, when the body suddenly fails, or the ground under our feet shifts, standing alone is not necessarily a virtue – it is simply making it harder than it needs to be. Psychologically, this is not a moral statement – it’s biology. We, humans, are wired for connection. Emotional regulation, learning, recovery, and meaning-making happen most effectively in a relationship with others. Autonomy matters, of course, but autonomy without connection quickly turns into overload and other, rather heavy and dreadful experiences. We simply need our “village”, however small. Support doesn’t remove effort. Instead, it makes the effort more sustainable. Just like in the Tree pose, where a steady hand of another human allowed me to find my center faster. Sometimes this hand prevents an unnecessary fall. And sometimes it simply reminds you that you’re not meant to balance everything by yourself. Maybe it’s a good moment to pause and ask yourself a few simple, but important questions: • Where in my life am I “wobbling” but still insisting on “doing it alone”? • What kind of support am I quietly refusing, not because it’s unavailable, but because it challenges my self-image? • What would change if I treated asking for support not as a failure, but as an important skill? • If balance (vs. performance) is my goal, then what kind of support would actually serve me right now?

Makar Sankranti: Timing, Cycles, and What We Can Learn About Progress

January 22, 2026 No Comments

Makar Sankranti: Timing, Cycles, and What We Can Learn About Progress “Oh sorry, I need to run! I ordered breakfast for 9 today!” I exclaimed almost mid-sentence, interrupting the story I was telling the yoga teacher, and a minute later I was pedalling fast on the “wrong” side of the small village road. The locals were just about starting their day as I rushed past them. I reached my resort six minutes past nine. Out of breath, I grabbed (not literally!) the first service person I saw and apologetically asked for a few extra minutes to freshen up and change before they served breakfast. He was clearly alarmed by my stressed-out entry and inquired empathetically if I was OK. When I explained the reason for my worry, he grinned, shook his head sideways and said: “Oh, no tension, Ma’am. Take your time. We will serve the breakfast whenever YOU ARE READY.” “Oh dear. That’s right. It’s just breakfast. I am still so much in my ticking-clock mode…” I thought, relaxing my shoulders a bit as I headed to the room to change. Should clock precision define events in life? Or should timing flexibly follow events in life? We have all been culturally conditioned to adopt one of these approaches as our “default”, while the other we apply more occasionally. Have you ever stopped to notice which one is your default? In January, in India, we celebrate Makar Sankranti – unusual among Hindu festivals because it follows the solar calendar rather than the lunar one. It marks the Sun’s transition into Makar (Capricorn) and the gradual return of longer, brighter days after winter. Across India, it is celebrated under different names, with different rituals, foods, and local traditions, but the underlying meaning remains deeply shared. At its heart, Makar Sankranti is a harvest festival, a moment to pause, acknowledge what has been cultivated, and give thanks before turning attention to what is yet to grow. There is no rush in this transition. No sense of urgency to “move on” too quickly. The cycle is respected. This idea of timing runs deep in Indian culture. Progress is not separated from patience. Effort is not detached from rhythm. You don’t rush a harvest just because the calendar says it’s time; you wait until the conditions are right. And this mindset doesn’t stay in the fields. It carries into personal life. I experienced it strongly last year while processing a major life crisis and battling internally to accept that certain things – understanding, clarity, peace, acceptance – can’t be rushed. But they do come, if you patiently tune in to the process. Whenever YOU ARE READY. Not on a predefined, wishful schedule. This perspective naturally carries into business and professional relationships too. For those working with Indian partners, Makar Sankranti offers a powerful reminder: decisions are often shaped more by context and timing than by pressure or speed. Relationships are not a “soft” aspect of work, they are foundational. Trust, alignment, and mutual understanding are not things you accelerate; they are things you build. This can feel counterintuitive in cultures where urgency is praised, and speed is equated with effectiveness. But in cross-cultural collaboration, especially with India, working with the rhythm instead of against it can make the difference between friction and flow. On a more personal note, Makar Sankranti has always been one of my favourite festivals. Perhaps because I’m a Sun-loving Capricorn myself, and perhaps because the symbolism of winter slowly loosening its grip resonates with me every year. There is something deeply hopeful about this moment, not loud hope, but quiet, grounded optimism. So… should clock precision define events in life? Or should timing flexibly follow events in life? Which of these approaches, clock-based or event-based, is your default mode?

Thank You 2025

December 29, 2025 No Comments

Thank You 2025 As 2025 comes to an end, I find myself returning to the moments that stayed with me: the conversations, the rooms, the unexpected discoveries, and the people who turned this year into something larger than a sequence of months. When I try to summarise it, one thought keeps appearing: this was a year built TOGETHER. A large part of my year was spent with teams diving into leadership, communication, and intercultural collaboration. And while the topics were important, what stayed with me were the human moments that emerged between them. There is something incredibly meaningful about being in a room where people feel safe enough to speak openly, to share their perspective, their story, their experience. Sometimes all someone needs is a space where they can talk and truly be heard. Watching those connections form, often among colleagues who don’t usually have the chance for deeper conversations, is one of the most rewarding parts of my work. It’s not always easy to open up in front of a group, and maybe that’s why, when it happens, it feels so genuine, so real. One of my other favourite moments of connection was the live event we hosted with Sylwia Królikowska, How to Give Feedback: Say It, Don’t Slay It, a fully English session filled with energy, humour and thoughtful discussion (And yes, the brilliant name was entirely Sylwia’s idea). A Heartfelt Weekend in Gdańsk The Gdańsk Book Fair was one of those moments where everything felt aligned in a very human way. Meeting readers who stopped simply to talk, to ask questions, or to share why the book caught their attention, those exchanges meant a lot. There was a genuine openness in those conversations that made the weekend feel generous. It was also deeply comforting to have Barbara Wrzos there with me, the person who helped turn my book into the physical product you’re now reading. After everything we shared during the Polish publication process, seeing her at the stand brought a sense of grounding and companionship that I appreciated more than I can express. And then there were the authors, brilliant women whose work I admired immediately. Our chats about writing, culture, and the strange, wonderful life of books were some of the most inspiring moments of the fair. Somewhere amid all that warmth and movement, the first English copies of Masala@Work appeared. Quietly, without fanfare, but with a feeling of possibility. Holding them at the fair, surrounded by people who have been part of my journey, felt symbolically right. A New Chapter: Masala@Work in English And then came the next big milestone: the English edition of Masala@Work.A project that started years ago in Polish finally opened its doors to a wider world of readers. The translation process had its own challenges. I wanted the English version to feel as warm and intentional as the original, while also speaking clearly to an international audience. The launch event has been postponed to early 2026 (thank you for your patience!), but the book is officially out, and the first readers have already begun reaching out. Knowing that Masala@Work can now support people far beyond Poland is something I still struggle to put into words. And Last, but not least If I had to choose one defining theme of this year, it wouldn’t be a project or an event, it would be… You! The people who read my posts.The people who comment, share their perspectives, ask questions, disagree kindly, or simply say: “This made me think.”The people who show up to trainings, lives, and book events with open minds.The people who take one minute from their busy day to engage with something I wrote. You have no idea how meaningful that is. Knowing that my work reaches someone, supports someone, clarifies something or simply sparks a moment of reflection; that’s what keeps me going. That’s what makes the long hours, the prep work, the travel and the writing feel worthwhile. And this year, more than any other, I felt the presence of a community around me, curious, thoughtful and wonderfully engaged. Thank you for walking this path with me in 2025.I’m grateful for every conversation we had, every message you sent, every moment you chose to spend here. Here’s to what we learned, and to everything waiting for us in 2026.

The Journey to Masala@Work

November 24, 2025 No Comments

The Journey to Masala@Work There is a particular kind of silence that comes with writing a book, the kind filled with thoughts that circle your head, waiting to be caught before they disappear again. When I look back at the journey of Masala@Work, what I remember first is those long moments of wrestling with myself, my expectations, and the weight of the topic I had chosen. I often joke that Masala@Work was raised on coffee, nighttime ideas and interrupted attempts at discipline, but there is truth behind the humour. I spent years collecting the pieces that would eventually form the book: conversations in training rooms, stories gathered during my time in India, interviews, questions from clients, personal experiences, deeply human misunderstandings that revealed more about cultural lenses than about “mistakes”. All of that lived inside me long before I sat down to write. And yet, when the time to write finally came, I faced three very real difficulties. The first was perfectionism, the kind that convinces you you’re not ready, even when you’ve been preparing for a decade. I believed the book had to be immaculate — as if there was such a thing. I postponed chapters because I wanted to “read one more paper”, “double-check one more detail”, “do one more interview”. And the more I postponed, the more impossible the task seemed. The second difficulty was time, or rather the lack of alignment between the time available and the creative flow. I had moments of inspiration at midnight on a Wednesday — and complete emptiness during the quiet Sunday morning I had reserved for writing. Sometimes I felt like my brain and my calendar were living in different countries. And the third difficulty was sensitivity. The topic itself — India, intercultural misunderstandings, power dynamics, communication styles — is wide, nuanced and delicate. I wanted to be thorough without overwhelming, practical without simplifying, honest without stereotyping. That balance took time, attention and many rewrites. But despite all that, something kept pulling me forward. Maybe it was the belief that this book could help someone avoid a painful misunderstanding, or perhaps it was the desire to put stories living in and around me into words? Finishing the manuscript felt like taking a deep breath after holding it in for too long. When Masala@Work finally arrived in its printed form, I held it with a mix of disbelief and tenderness. Years of work, condensed into pages. Stories that had once lived only in my memory are now shared with others. And then came the premiere. I didn’t expect it to be so emotional, but oh, it was. The room was full, warm, present. I saw curiosity in people’s eyes and kindness. I remember thinking: This is why I wrote it, for connection. For the possibility that someone would walk away feeling more confident, more informed, more equipped to navigate cultural complexity. The reactions that followed were humbling. Readers told me they felt guided, not lectured. That the book’s stories felt real. That the advice was practical and clear, that they recognised themselves in the frustrations, and found comfort in the explanations behind them. Each message felt like a quiet confirmation that the long journey had been worth it. Which brings me to the next chapter of this story. As the Polish edition began to travel on its own, the idea of an English edition started taking shape. A new language, a new audience, a new responsibility. Translating the book was easier in some ways, harder in others. English opens doors, inviting a global readership with its own cultural nuances, expectations, and sensitivities. I wanted the English version to feel just as warm, just as respectful, just as helpful as the original. I wanted Indian readers to feel seen, and non-Indian readers to feel supported. I wanted the humour to remain, the gentleness to remain, the honesty to remain. At times, the challenge was not the translation itself, but the emotional task of re-feeling the stories in a new linguistic landscape. And now, here we are, standing at the edge of another beginning. The English launch of Masala@Work is just around the corner. A new room, new faces, new conversations — but the same heart behind the book. I can’t wait to meet the readers who will join this next part of the journey.

Neurotransmitter Series 2 – Serotonin: The Chemistry of Calm, Satisfaction, and Presence

November 10, 2025 1 Comment

The Chemistry of Calm, Satisfaction, and Presence When we talk about brain chemistry, dopamine often gets the spotlight: the motivator, the thrill-seeker, the one that fuels ambition and drive. But today, let’s shift the focus to another key player that shapes our well-being in quieter, steadier ways: serotonin. What is Serotonin, really? Serotonin (5-HT) is a neurotransmitter best known for its role in mood regulation, but it does much more than that. It contributes to emotional stability, impulse control, sleep, digestion, memory, and even how safe we feel in our bodies and environments. Where dopamine is associated with desire, serotonin is about contentment. It doesn’t push us toward what’s next; it helps us feel at peace with what is. It’s the neurochemical that supports: Serotonin as part of the “Here & Now” system Drawing from the framework in The Molecule of More, our brains operate through two complementary systems: Dopamine says: “You’re not there yet, go get it.”Serotonin says: “You’re here now, and this is enough.” Why serotonin matters more than we think In high-performance environments, it’s easy to live in dopamine mode: chasing, striving, accomplishing. But without serotonin, this cycle can quickly become exhausting or empty. Serotonin doesn’t just “calm you down”, it’s what helps you: It creates inner stability. And in times of overstimulation, uncertainty, or pressure, that might be the most valuable chemical of all. How to support serotonin Unlike dopamine, which is often sparked by external rewards, serotonin is nurtured through internal and relational cues. Research points to several natural ways to boost it: These aren’t productivity hacks; they’re practices that allow your nervous system to feel safe enough to rest and replenish. The dopamine–serotonin balance Dopamine is still important. It gives us drive, innovation, curiosity, and desire. But too much dopamine without enough serotonin creates an imbalance: we chase more, enjoy less. The nervous system becomes overstimulated, and satisfaction feels just out of reach. That’s why creating space for both is essential:Strive, yes, but also settle.Reach forward, and then rest back.Celebrate not only what’s next, but what’s here. Final thought In the world of leadership, growth, and global collaboration, serotonin might not be the loudest voice in the room, but it’s the one that makes everything feel sustainable. So this month, I invite you to notice:What brings you peace, not just excitement?Where do you feel grounded, not just productive? Serotonin might be quietly answering those questions.