Life as Sakti

“I have often had to eat my own words, and I have found them a wholesome diet.” – Winston Churchill

Growing up, I struggled with English. I watched classmates from English-medium schools speak effortlessly while I fumbled for words. It felt like an unfair advantage. My defense mechanism kicked in—I convinced myself they were all style, no substance. “They’re hiding behind fluent English,” I’d think. “People only listen because of colonial conditioning.”

Years passed. I overcame my struggle and became fluent. But I carried my baggage forward.

Anyone speaking with a British or American accent? Red flag. I’d mentally dismiss them, offering invisible sermons: “Work on content, not fake accents.”

As I gained recognition as an effective speaker, my bias calcified. Western accents meant insecurity, superficiality, inauthenticity. I stopped listening. I made my world smaller, one judgment at a time.

Then life humbled me.

First, a club member with a heavy British accent. I judged instantly, tuned out completely. Later, I discovered he used that accent deliberately—a tool to manage his stammer.

But I still didn’t learn.

Recently, I reconnected with someone I first met a decade ago. Back then, he was an Associate Manager; I was a Senior Manager. Today, he’s a Director. I’m still a Senior Manager. His heavy American accent had always triggered my judgment: “Not authentic. Probably managed his way up.” I maintained my moral high ground.

During a recent training in Pune, something shifted. I actually listened. His presence of mind, the substance behind every word, his articulation—everything I’d ignored because of selective hearing. I was blown away.

In a casual moment, I admitted my misconception to him. Confessed my flawed judgment. It lifted a burden I didn’t know I was carrying. More importantly, I gained a friend I deeply admire.

The lesson? Don’t reject substance because of the wrapper. Every judgment I made closed a door to learning, to connection, to friendship.

Today, I’m grateful for the wholesome diet of my own words. They’ve nourished something more valuable than my ego—my ability to truly listen.

What biases have you had to unlearn? I’d love to hear your stories.