With those words, Suhasini Haidar, a senior journalist at CNN-IBN (now CNN-News18), let me in on a secret that made me both excited and anxious. It was November 2009, and she had managed something extraordinary: She had convinced the then-Prime Minister of India, Dr Manmohan Singh, to record a TV show for us.
This was not just any interview but a historic interaction in which the Prime Minister engaged with school children on national television, a first on a private TV Network.
This wasn’t just another assignment. It was history in the making, and I would be a part of it.
The Secret We Had to Guard
Secrecy was paramount, and the stakes were high. If word got out, competing networks would pressure the PMO (Prime Minister’s Office), jeopardising the event. Even a stray whisper could derail weeks of planning.
We kept the circle tight. Logistics were complex, involving over a hundred people, from our production crew to the participating schoolchildren.
On the day of the recording, the high-security protocols at Race Course Road felt intimidating and surreal. Yet, the PMO’s cooperation was impeccable. There were a few moments of hesitation—questions about logistics and minor permissions—but every roadblock dissolved when Dr Singh intervened.
The Man Behind the Power
The interaction was nothing short of a revelation. Here was a man who had held some of the most powerful positions in the country—the architect of India’s economic liberalisation and a two-term Prime Minister—answering questions from curious, wide-eyed schoolchildren as though he were speaking to peers.
Dr Singh’s humility shone through in every word. He listened intently, never dismissing even the most straightforward questions. His responses were thoughtful, measured, and quietly profound. There’s a saying that true greatness whispers rather than shouts. Dr Singh embodied this. He didn’t dominate with his presence, yet you couldn’t ignore him. His quiet voice—so soft we had to boost its audio for the show—carried a weight that demanded attention.
Quiet Leadership
Driving home that night, I reflected on what I had witnessed. Here was a leader who was unassuming to a fault. He had nothing to prove, and his accomplishments—monumental as they were—spoke for themselves.
What did I learn?
Humility is strength. His quiet demeanour didn’t diminish his authority; it enhanced it. He reminded me that you don’t need to be the loudest voice in the room to lead.
Despite his position, Dr Singh stayed grounded. He spoke to children as equals, not as an exalted figure dispensing wisdom. This ability to connect, to meet others where they are, is what makes leaders unforgettable.
In that one-hour interaction, Dr. Singh taught me that listening isn’t passive—it’s an act of respect. By giving the children his full attention, he validated their voices. Imagine what our workplaces or homes would look like if we all listened like that.
Greatness often hides in plain sight. It doesn’t always announce itself with fanfare. Sometimes, it sits quietly at the head of the table, observing, absorbing, and acting only when necessary. Dr Singh didn’t fit the mould of a conventional leader. He wasn’t charismatic in the traditional sense, but his presence was undeniable. His simplicity was his power, his humility, his strength.
A Legacy That Speaks
Fifteen years later, I still carry the lessons from that day. Dr Singh’s quiet brilliance left an indelible mark on me. He taught me that leadership isn’t about commanding attention but about earning respect. It’s about being genuine, consistent, and open.
In the end, true greatness doesn’t need to be proclaimed. It’s felt. It’s remembered. And it inspires others to be better versions of themselves.
As you journey through life, take a moment to look beyond the noise. Sometimes, the greatest lessons come from the quietest people. And sometimes, the loudest legacy is built on whispers.
What kind of legacy do you want to leave?
About Me
I am a thinker at all times. I see, I think. I hear, I think. I read, I think. Every weekend I write. I would love to know what you think.