Category: Leadership and lessons learned

By Lieutenant Vinod Subramanian (Retd)

For seven defining years, I wore the uniform of the Indian Navy. Those years were less about routine duty and more about learning how to stay composed when precision was non-negotiable.

Goa’s skies were notoriously complex—a shared space where fighter jets, helicopters, and civil airlines crisscrossed constantly. It was here, in this high-pressure arena, that I served as an Air Traffic Controller. My voice was the unseen lifeline balancing risk with judgment, ensuring every movement in the sky was safe and deliberate.

Pilots, both civil and military, trusted my instructions implicitly. It wasn’t just technical competence—it was the calm assurance I carried, the ability to lead with presence. The Navy honed in me what would later become my signature traits: clarity in chaos, strength under pressure, and leadership that inspires confidence.

When my Short Service Commission ended, I knew I had to reinvent myself. I sat for one of the most competitive management exams of that time and earned admission to the Asian Institute of Management (AIM), Manila—a place that exposed me to global perspectives and sharpened my analytical instincts.

It was here that I discovered a truth I have lived ever since: the circumstances you don’t choose often become the arenas where you make your greatest mark.

Back in India in 2002, I entered the corporate world. Recruitment was not my dream role; it was what the market offered me. But instead of resisting, I embraced it.

What began as an “assigned path” soon became my stage. Recruitment, to me, wasn’t about filling positions—it was about building futures, creating matches of trust, and aligning human potential with organizational ambition.

Joining a consultancy, I spotted a gap in the Indian market. With only two people in the beginning, I founded FlexAbility, the Recruitment Process Outsourcing (RPO) arm.

From two, the team grew to 1,200 under my stewardship. From a fledgling idea, it became a market leader. And in the process, I redefined how RPO was understood in India.

I wasn’t merely expanding headcount—I was creating a culture. A culture where recruiters weren’t transactional agents, but trusted advisors. Where clients weren’t just accounts, but partners. Where young employees didn’t just get jobs, but careers.

My impact was so significant that I was appointed the first-ever CEO of the company.

FlexAbility caught the attention of one of the UK-based recruitment giants. After its acquisition, I played a pivotal role in the transition.

As Managing Director – India of this organization, I carried out a delicate task: weaving its global systems into India’s unique context, while ensuring Indian innovation added value to global processes. I shaped its India chapter not as an outpost, but as a critical pillar in the company’s worldwide success.

If there is a single theme to my corporate life, it is empowerment.

I empowered clients by helping them see talent not as a cost but as a driver of growth. I empowered candidates by showing them pathways they had not seen for themselves. And I empowered my teams by instilling confidence, discipline, and ownership.

Under my leadership, people didn’t just deliver targets—they discovered their potential. Many who began as junior recruiters under my wing are today industry leaders, carrying forward the ethos of rigor and respect.

Unlike many in leadership who focus solely on metrics, I carried with me the Navy lesson that every number is a life. Every aircraft was a pilot’s life, every hire was a family’s future, every decision had ripple effects.

Candidates often remembered me not just for jobs they secured but for the dignity with which they were treated. Clients remembered me for honesty even in hard conversations. And my teams remembered me for unwavering support—the leader who stood with them when things went wrong and pushed them higher when things went right.

Looking back, my journey appears less like a straight line and more like a series of turns. The Navy was a turn. Corporate was a turn. Recruitment in 2002 was a turn. Each could have been an ending, but I made each a beginning.

That ability—to flow with circumstance, adapt with courage, and convert chance into opportunity—defines my story.

Today, I am regarded as one of the architects of India’s RPO industry. The teams I built, the systems I established, and the leaders I groomed continue to define the sector.

More than numbers, my legacy lies in the thousands of careers shaped, the organizations strengthened, and the trust I built in an industry often accused of being impersonal.

Reflection
From guiding aircraft in Goa’s skies to guiding thousands of careers across India and beyond, my journey is one of resilience, adaptability, and purpose. Where once I kept pilots safe in turbulent skies, today I help organizations and individuals navigate the turbulence of careers and markets.

ABCEL Perspective
Vinod’s story reminds us that leadership is not about titles—it is about transformation. From the precision of airspace to the complexity of human potential, his journey shows that courage and clarity can turn chance into legacy. Veterans like him carry discipline and vision into every new frontier, shaping futures with integrity and impact.

Disclaimer:
Edited for clarity and storytelling with contributor permission. ABCEL has not verified this story for accuracy.
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By Major Devendra Omkar (Retd) 

On 21 February 2019, I took over as Company Commander of Pallel Company Operating Base, 18 Assam Rifles. Barely weeks into my command, I faced a situation that tested leadership, courage, and decision-making under fire. 

On 13 March 2019, at about 1430 hours, while leading a Road Opening Patrol along the Pallel–Machi axis, a reliable input reached me: armed cadres of NSCN (IM) had abducted a woman, Peileng Rangam, aged 43, from Thamlakhuren village and were moving towards the Pallel–Chandel road. 

I immediately redeployed my team and soon confirmed the insurgents’ presence in New Wangparal village. Time was critical—speed and surprise were essential. I detached a Quick Action Team comprising myself and four other ranks, moving in a civil vehicle to avoid suspicion. 

As we neared the location, the insurgents spotted us and tried to escape into the jungle. I decided to pursue them with my small team. During the chase, two insurgents—later identified as Self-Styled Lieutenant Colonel Justin Khapai and Self-Styled Sergeant Kurungthang Dangshawa alias Kokobi—opened fire at me. 

At that moment, I had a choice: retaliate with heavy firepower, risking unnecessary casualties, or act with restraint. I chose the latter. I fired a single warning shot and ordered them to surrender. When they refused, I closed in, despite the risk of being hit at close range. With determination and coordination, we overpowered both insurgents and apprehended them. 

On searching, we recovered one AK-47 rifle with 26 rounds of live ammunition. More importantly, we rescued the kidnapped woman unharmed. 

Looking back, it was not just an operation but a test of willpower. The insurgents tried to provoke a firefight, but courage is not always about pulling the trigger—sometimes it is about holding it. By maintaining composure and acting decisively, we achieved success without collateral damage. 

That day reaffirmed my belief in leading from the front. My men drew strength from my actions, and together, we proved that when you lead with courage and restraint, the mission and the team will always prevail. 

Reflection
Leadership under fire is about clarity and composure. Courage is not recklessness—it is the ability to act decisively while safeguarding lives. 

ABCEL Perspective
This story reminds us that true leadership shines in moments of uncertainty. Courage is not measured by aggression but by judgment—the ability to balance mission success with humanity. Veterans carry this ethos beyond the battlefield, guiding teams through crises with calm, conviction, and care. 

Disclaimer:
Edited for clarity and storytelling with contributor permission. ABCEL has not verified this story for accuracy.
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By Col Saurabh Srivastava 

Like most abstract ideas we throw around in the modern world, “brand” too is used casually — as if it were just about logos, fonts, and taglines. But I learned about branding not in boardrooms, but in flooded streets, angry chowks, and remote tribal valleys while serving in uniform. My education in brand value came from lived experience — moments where belief itself altered reality. 

In my post-service years, as I transitioned to the corporate world, I began drawing parallels between military ethos and organizational life. Both are driven by shared purpose and trust, but in the military, those lessons are compressed into seconds — where outcomes can mean life or loss. 

From the Dusty Lanes of Kashmir 

In 2014, I served with the Rashtriya Rifles (RR) during the J&K elections — a time when democracy and insurgency collided daily. My team and I were tasked with escorting election officials through Soibugh, a village where not a single vote had been cast amid stone-pelting and unrest.
As we approached a chaotic chowk, hundreds surged toward us in anger. Logic said we were outnumbered — ten soldiers against a mob. Yet, when we took position, armed only with lathis, not rifles, the crowd fell back. It wasn’t the sticks that mattered. It was the brand — the decades of trust, discipline, and reputation that RR carried. That invisible force made ten men stand as one. 

The 2014 floods revealed another side of branding — trust. As the valley drowned, many rejected relief from unknown units or paramilitary forces, but when the RR arrived, the same people opened their doors. Our brand had been built slowly — through winters spent helping locals, responding to emergencies, and showing up when it mattered. Trust, I realized, cannot be commanded; it must be cultivated. In the corporate world too, credibility cannot be parachuted — it is earned drop by drop, through presence and consistency. 

In 2013, during widespread protests after Afzal Guru’s execution, a tragedy near my post ignited fury across several villages. A police team was trapped on a bridge, surrounded on both sides by mobs. When we arrived, the crowd parted — not because the conflict had ended, but because the brand of the Indian Army carried weight. That day I learned that real leadership is knowing when to lean on credibility that precedes you. In crises, pride can burn bridges; trust builds them. 

Later, as part of the Border Roads Organisation (BRO) in Arunachal Pradesh, I saw how brands become part of people’s lives. BRO wasn’t just an institution; it was a familiar name that meant reliability and partnership. Even during the COVID lockdowns, when outsiders were turned away, locals welcomed our teams because they trusted the brand — one built over decades of service. True brand equity, I learned, is patient, enduring, and human. 

During my early service days, while volunteering for Special Forces probation, I tore a ligament but refused to quit. Why? Because the brand I aspired to wear — the Special Forces badge — demanded endurance beyond reason. It wasn’t ego; it was identity. I realized that strong brands transform the people within them. They elevate performance, instill belonging, and inspire individuals to rise above limits. Employees don’t give their best for perks; they do it when the badge they wear means something. 

Looking back, I’ve learned that a real brand does three things: 

1. It influences behaviour before logic arrives — people act first, justify later.

2. It compresses time — trust, built over years, enables decisions in moments.

3. It redistributes power — those who carry a trusted brand inherit credibility and permission that cannot be faked.

A true brand is not decoration; it is history in motion — the visible proof of invisible values. 

Modern branding often chases novelty, but true branding is about consistency. It is not your tagline; it is your behaviour when no one is watching. Over time, people form a mental model of who you are. That is your brand — not your press release, but your conduct. Every action either earns belief or erodes it. 

When I think back to those years — to the mob that scattered before ten soldiers, to villagers who opened their doors in floods, to the officer trapped on a burning bridge, and to the broken body that kept running — I see the same invisible force at work. That force is brand: the collective belief that transforms reality. 

Reflection
A brand is not what you say; it’s what others feel when they see you. It’s built in small, consistent acts of integrity, courage, and service — until one day, it carries you farther than reason ever could. 

ABCEL Perspective
Saurabh’s story beautifully reframes branding as lived credibility. His reflections remind us that trust — whether in battlefields or boardrooms — is not a campaign, but a commitment. Veterans bring with them an understanding of brand as integrity in action: the quiet, consistent proof that belief can move mountains. When organizations internalize that truth, their brands too become not just seen, but believed. 

Disclaimer:
Edited for clarity and storytelling with contributor permission. ABCEL has not verified this story for accuracy.
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By Group Captain Sanjeev Bedi (Retd)

During my years in the Air Force, I learned that technology, discipline, teamwork, and trust are what make the impossible possible. I had the honor of serving in the Formation Aerobatic Team—later known as Suryakiran. Nine aircraft flew in perfect coordination, wingtip to wingtip, sometimes just ten feet apart.

Each of us looked only at our reference aircraft, not the leader. The entire team depended on collective precision and faith. If the leader faltered, we would all follow without hesitation. That’s the power—and responsibility—of interdependence. It takes years of practice and unwavering trust to function as one.

I also learned the will to fight back. In 1988, I was flying a routine ferry mission in a MiG-21 when a series of system failures turned the sortie into a crisis. Within seconds, I lost control of the aircraft and had to eject. The force of ejection was tremendous; I lost consciousness and came to hanging under my parachute, descending dangerously close to high-tension wires. I pulled the cords hard and managed to steer clear but landed with a fractured leg.

I had two choices: give up fighter flying or recover and return. I chose to fight back. Months of recovery later, I was back in the cockpit—and continued flying fighters for 21 more years.

Reflection
Every setback teaches you to begin again. Whether in the skies or in the corporate world, success depends on teamwork, resilience, and faith in your people. When challenges knock you off course, the key is not to surrender, but to recalibrate and take flight again. That’s what I carried with me from the Air Force—the will to rise, again and again.

ABCEL Perspective
Group Captain Bedi’s journey through precision flying and recovery captures the essence of resilience — to rise, to recalibrate, and to return stronger. His reflection on teamwork and trust extends beyond the Air Force cockpit to every collective endeavor. Veterans like him remind us that excellence is never solitary; it’s a rhythm of coordination, discipline, and shared belief — lessons that resonate in boardrooms as deeply as they do in the skies.

Disclaimer:
Edited for clarity and storytelling with contributor permission. ABCEL has not verified this story for accuracy.
Read full disclaimer – Terms and Conditions.