What did Indians teach me about assertiveness?
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.
Makar Sankranti: Timing, Cycles, and What We Can Learn About Progress
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?
The Journey to Masala@Work
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.
Reflections from the Gdańsk Book Fair: Conversations That Stay With You
From the 11th to the 14th of September, I had the joy of joining the Gdańsk Book Fair, a vibrant celebration of stories, authors, and ideas. The fair was full of energy and curiosity. There were book stands for every taste: psychology, fantasy, children’s literature, history, and culture. I knew I had to set a purchase limit before walking in: one book per child, and one for myself. Let’s just say… it was not easy to stick to. But more than the books I brought home, what stayed with me were the conversations. Connection Between Authors At the Graphito stand, I had the pleasure of co-creating a space with other brilliant Polish women authors. Each of us brought something different, a unique voice, a different theme, and yet there was a deep, unspoken connection between us. Our conversations were open, thoughtful, and even vulnerable at times. We spoke not just about our books, but about the emotional process behind writing and publishing. It reminded me that authorship isn’t just about having something to say, it’s about choosing to say it with honesty. Meaningful Encounters Some of the most touching moments came from spontaneous chats with people who stopped by the stand. Many were drawn to the Masala@Work cover — its colors, its title — even if they had no previous connection to Indian culture. And still, we ended up speaking about culture: Polish culture, hybrid identity, global values, and everyday differences. One woman in particular left a mark. She teaches Polish to adult learners, many of them Indian expats living in Poland. She shared stories of warmth, openness, and mutual discovery that happen in her classroom. It was a beautiful reminder of how language and culture are never just academic; they’re deeply human. Polish Culture in Business Some of our discussions raised bold, honest questions. One of them was:“Are Polish people culturally difficult to work with?” The idea wasn’t to stereotype or criticize, but to invite reflection. Do we realize how our norms, communication styles, and assumptions might feel confusing or rigid to others? Can we look at our own culture with the same curiosity we bring to others? The idea wasn’t to stereotype or criticize, but to invite reflection. Do we realize how our norms, communication styles, and assumptions might feel confusing or rigid to others? Can we look at our own culture with the same curiosity we bring to others? That question stayed with me: What do you think? Travel and Openness Another recurring theme was travel. Does it always broaden your mind? The answer, we agreed, is: it depends. Travel can expose you to differences, but it doesn’t guarantee openness. Sometimes it reinforces what you already believe. Sometimes it deepens stereotypes instead of breaking them. Openness is not about where you go, but how willing you are to see, listen, and let something shift inside you. Globalization and Cultural Identity Some visitors brought up the idea that “we’re all becoming one global business culture.” Cultural differences are fading, especially in professional settings. I see it differently. Yes, there are shared tools, technologies, and processes. But values? Expectations? Approaches to leadership, trust, or conflict? Those still vary — deeply. Globalization doesn’t erase culture. It just means we need better tools to navigate it. Women in Leadership Throughout the fair, I kept returning to a quiet but powerful thought: how meaningful it is to see so many women leading as authors, thinkers, and businesswomen. There is something undeniably strong about showing up in spaces like these. Publishing a book, telling your story, claiming your place at the table. Sometimes, that alone is a form of leadership. Final Thoughts The Gdańsk Book Fair was more than a literary event. It was a space of cultural exchange, emotional generosity, and critical thinking. And it left me with new questions to carry forward: • What makes a culture “difficult”, and who gets to decide? • Can travel make us more closed instead of open? • Is globalization flattening differences, or simply demanding more nuance? If any of these reflections resonate, I’d love to hear your thoughts. Let’s keep the conversation going. PS — A little bonus:During the fair, we made a limited number of copies of Masala@Work available in English!! The official English-language launch is still on the horizon, but if you’re curious… don’t miss your chance to get it when the time comes. Stay tuned — it’s closer than you think. 😉