The Lover and the Loved: My Life Sutra

We all like to believe that our expertise speaks for itself. That if we just share enough knowledge—facts, frameworks, strategies—the world will listen, appreciate, and maybe even applaud.  

But here’s the truth: people don’t connect with expertise alone. They connect with stories.  

And yet, sharing our personal journey? That’s the hard part.  

It feels easier to stay in the realm of insights, avoid talking about ourselves, and just focus on “delivering value.” But the reality is, if we don’t bring our own story into the conversation, there is no real connection. Because at the end of the day, no matter how intellectual or strategic a topic might seem, what truly resonates with people is the human element.  

I didn’t always see it this way. In fact, for a long time, I was one of those people who thought “Just let the knowledge do the talking.” But life has a way of teaching us otherwise.  

The Indian Tech Dream: From Logic to Leadership  

Growing up in India, career planning was a team sport.  

And by team, I mean a council of Indian uncles.  

These were not just blood relatives but any older Indian man within a 5-kilometer radius, all of whom had strong opinions about your future.  

The formula was simple:  

1. Study Computer Science.  

2. Move to the USA.  

3. Work in tech and make your family proud.  

4. Buy a house, preferably near Indian Uncle Industrial Complex, so they can continue giving career advice.  

And so, like a good Indian boy, I followed the script. I moved to the USA, got my master’s in Computer Science, and landed in the world of tech.  

For a while, life was straightforward—just code, debug, optimize.  

Then, one day, you walked into the office, and everything had changed.

The tech industry was in a different state of evolution back then. Leadership shifts weren’t big announcements—they were just another Monday. One day, you were deep in your codebase, and the next, you were not just an engineer anymore.

• You were still coding, but also managing teams.

• You were still debugging software, but also meeting clients and negotiating procurement deals.

• You were writing job descriptions, reviewing résumés, and handling parts of HR—except HR wasn’t screening candidates for you. They just dropped résumés on your desk, and you had to figure it out.

• So, you took candidates out for lunch—not for a structured interview, but to get a gut feel for whether they fit.

  
  

It was part engineering, part hiring, part insurance negotiations, part procurement—somehow, you were doing it all. And no one questioned whether you were qualified. No one thought much about it. It was just the way things worked in many tech companies.

There were no formal transitions, no structured handovers—just a constant state of adaptation. One day you were writing code, the next you were making hiring decisions, and before you even realized it, you were in "talent acquisition"—well… even that word was unheard of. No one even used that word.

From the USA to Latin America: Learning to Feel, Not Just Think  

Then, life threw another twist.  

I moved to France for an MBA. Then Brazil.  

I did an exchange program at FGV in São Paulo, threw myself into learning Portuguese (badly, at first), and somewhere along the way—started dating someone who happened to be Brazilian.  

And that’s when I really started experiencing Brazilian culture—not as a tourist, but as someone trying to understand it from the inside.  

Because dating isn’t just about getting to know a person—it’s about getting to know their entire cultural world.  

And this is where my entire perspective on hiring, business, and life began to shift.  

In the USA, everything was intellectual. Hiring was about skills, experience, and structured decision-making.  

Latin America? Completely different mindset.  

Here, business wasn’t just about credentials—it was about emotion, energy, connection. You didn’t just assess a candidate’s qualifications; you felt whether they fit. The corporate world had a rhythm, a cultural depth that you had to tune into.  

And it wasn’t just professional—it was personal.  

Then came the kid.  

Everything changed. Priorities shifted. Corporate ambitions took a backseat to figuring out custody agreements, creating a stable environment, and navigating an entirely new culture—not as an expat, but as a parent.  

And in that process, I found myself drawn into career coaching. Not just helping people get jobs, but helping them understand who they were in the professional world.  

The Spiritual Thread: From India to the Amazon  

But this shift wasn’t just geographic or professional. It was deeply spiritual too.  

Growing up, I had been immersed in Indian spiritual traditions—meditation, chanting, classical music. These weren’t just rituals; they were ways of seeing the world.  

But in Latin America, I encountered another kind of spiritual depth.  

I spent time in the Peruvian Amazon, exploring shamanic traditions—not as a tourist, but as someone genuinely seeking clarity. It was a process of unraveling, of working through my own inner layers, and realizing that career transitions, leadership, and talent development weren’t just business concepts. They were rites of passage.  

Because what is a career change if not a transformation?  

What is leadership if not a deeper understanding of the self?  

 From Talent Acquisition to Personal Branding Sutras  

Everything finally came together.  

• The engineer in me still loved structure.  

• The hiring manager in me knew that recruitment was more than just a checklist—it was an art.  

• The seeker in me saw careers not just as jobs, but as paths of transformation.  

• The kid in me still sneaks out to play cricket, drawn to the thrill of movement, mischief, and chasing magic in the air.

• The man in me burns for the raw hunger of Bollywood’s passion, craves the slow undressing of poetry—each word tracing curves like fingers—and is utterly possessed by the rapture of Indian classical music, where every note seduces, every silence begs, and every crescendo demands surrender.

And that’s why I do what I do today.  

Now, I don’t just write job descriptions. I help people write their own career sutras.  

I don’t just optimize résumés. I help people articulate their professional identity.  

And if there’s one thing I’ve learned from all of this, it’s this:  

We don’t connect with expertise alone. We connect with stories.  

And if we want to build teams, careers, or businesses that actually mean something, we have to be willing to tell our own stories—and listen to others.  

So that’s my story. And now that you know mine, I’d love to hear yours....

Because at the heart of every hire—and every unforgettable relationship—there lives a narrative. A journey that belongs to both sides.

• The individual and the organization.

• The lover and the loved.

• The seeker and the divine.

It is in this space between—the ache of becoming seen, chosen, and claimed—that the real magic unfolds. Where masks fall. Where longing finds its language. Where boundaries blur, and connection becomes an offering so raw, so mutual, it leaves both sides undone—naked in truth, and trembling in ecstasy.

A resume isn’t just a list of achievements; it’s a narrative of growth, resilience, and purpose. Likewise, a job description isn’t just a checklist of duties; it’s an invitation into a shared vision.

Individuals must own their journeys, telling their truth with clarity and heart. Organizations, too, must articulate their identity—not through grand proclamations or empty evangelism, but through a grounded, authentic voice that resonates with the right people.

This is not just a framework. It’s not a theory. And no, I am no missionary.

This is my heart.

This is my message.

Individuals and organizations only truly meet—truly touch—when they dare to tell their stories with truth.

When they step beyond the script, beyond the jargon, and speak in a voice that is raw, radiant, and unmistakably their own.

That is where the ecstasy lives.

Not in the perfection of the pitch, but in the surrender of the soul.

Because when two truths meet—when the individual and the organization, the lover and the beloved, the human and the divine—speak without masks, there is no audience left.

Only presence.

Only pulse.

Only a silence so full, it sings.

Because when both sides dare to tell their stories with truth—not to impress, but to reveal—that’s where real relationships happen.

That’s where the right person doesn’t just fill a role, but is recognized, claimed.

It’s not a transaction. It’s a meeting of paths. A shared breath. A flicker of purpose that feels… almost fated. As if the role had been waiting for the person all along.

And isn’t that what great hiring really is? Not a search. But a remembering. Of who we are. Of who we’ve been waiting for.

And long after the offer’s signed, long after the meeting ends, you’ll still feel it—the voice that saw you, the fragrance that touched you, the man behind the message...still whispering, just beneath your skin.

And when it's over — the journey complete, the connection made — it's not a goodbye. It's a gentle return. Like a lover helping you slip back into your clothes after a night of total surrender. You stand taller. Walk differently. Something has shifted. You're still you — but more whole, more seen, more ready.

Because the best hires, like the best relationships, don’t leave you where they found you. They remind you of who you are — and send you back into the world carrying that truth.

Beijos, com carinho...

Arvind, Brasilia