Same ease. Same certainty. No performance.

We went to the community departmental store, my grandson and I.

I like walking with him. I’m quietly proud of it.

Long ago, when I was young, I travelled in a car with a prominent man from our small town. My uncle sat beside him; I sat in front with the driver.

He wasn’t loud. Didn’t instruct much. Authority sat on him like it had always belonged there.

We had gone to a bigger town for Deepavali shopping. At one stop, my uncle got down, ran into a shop, and brought back two veshtis. The man didn’t touch them. Didn’t examine. Just glanced and said, almost lazily,

“Take the one with the green border.”

That was it. Decision made. No noise, no effort.

Now I’m in a store again. Different time. Different company.

My wife has given me a list. My grandson walks beside me, scanning shelves. At the biscuit aisle, he doesn’t fumble through brands. No debate. His eyes settle on a purple packet in the middle.

“That one.”

At the fruit section, grapes. Chosen just as easily. No second thoughts.

Watching him, I remember that man.

Same ease. Same certainty. No performance.

Confidence, I realise, is not loud. It doesn’t argue. It doesn’t overthink.

It simply knows and moves.

I smile.

I seem to enjoy serving such bosses.

“Life has a way of promoting the same attitude… just in smaller sizes.”

Sent from my iPad