Children in the boardroom : Why Observing Children Might Make You Better at Business

The adult-child relationship begins on an unequal footing—blame it on the size. Adults tower over children, both physically and metaphorically. The default mode, even in the most well-meaning of grown-ups, is to look down—sometimes literally, but more often figuratively. Add to that a generous dose of cultural conditioning, and you have a cocktail of assumptions: that adults know better, that some truths are only grasped with age, that children should listen, not speak.

To be fair, these arguments aren’t entirely without merit. Age does bring perspective. But what I’ve learned through countless observations and conversations, particularly in the course of my research with everyday people, is that the world is rarely ever black or white. It's layered, complex, and textured with nuance. The same applies to the adult-child dynamic. Over time, this relationship, if unchecked, can become overly skewed, polarising to a point where children feel invisible, their voices muffled under the weight of adult authority. And that height gap can obscure something magical: the clarity, creativity, and wisdom children carry in their hearts.

Which is why Vobble’s initiative to create a 'Kid Board of Directors' caught my attention. A brand that targets kids actively invites them into the decision-making process. Intriguing, to say the least.

The first session took place yesterday. The co-founders, Neha Sharma and Sowmya Jagannath, introduced a group of children to the idea of a startup and what it means to solve a real-world problem. And what followed was a reminder of just how perceptive, imaginative, and emotionally intelligent children can be.

One child envisioned a car that could expand or retract—a dream solution to Bangalore’s legendary traffic snarls. Another pitched the idea of a kid’s credit card, with parents able to monitor expenses via an app—cleverly addressing the tiring negotiation ritual that precedes every small purchase. A third spoke passionately about the rising screen time in babies, proposing a ‘co-working-baby-explore zone’ that would let parents work while their toddlers explored a screen-free world.

From frustrations with piano lessons to dreams of a turbo-charged version of Minecraft, each idea reflected not only a unique problem but also a slice of the child’s lived reality. These weren’t whimsical, disconnected fantasies. These were practical, emotionally grounded solutions stemming from observation, empathy, and lived experience. And like all good ideas, the feeling one is left with is, “Now why didn’t we think of that earlier?”

The experience was equally revealing for the adults in the room. Watching children walk confidently into the boardroom, take their seats, and engage with the startup lingo was both heartening and humbling. The children quickly realised that adults, too, are just playing roles—sometimes pretending to be more serious and responsible than they actually are. Toys on desks and candies in drawers told their own story.

Neha and Sowmya guided the children through the basics of building a startup, thinking not just about the problem and solution but also about monetisation, information dissemination, and target audiences. All of this was done in a spirit of fun, with no pressure, and plenty of encouragement.

These moments at the cross-section of childhood and adulthood are deeply meaningful. They offer children a chance to step into the adult world—not as imitators but as equal stakeholders. At the same time, they allow adults to reconnect with the playfulness and clarity of their own inner child. The benefits, in my opinion, are mutual and healing.

Over the next few weeks, these young board members will test Vobble’s product, interact with it, and share their thoughts—likely with more candour than any adult focus group could ever offer. When I saw them at the office, even the six-year-olds moved about with a quiet confidence. Ironically, it was the adults who seemed just a little anxious, bracing themselves for a flood of probing questions.

And why not? Deep down, I think children know their own strength. It’s what helps them survive and even thrive in a world built by and for adults.

Stay tuned for more updates, including conversations with the kid board members and the founders themselves.

This experience offers a powerful reminder to all of us, especially those building products, programs, or policies for children: include them at the table. Not as a formality, but as insightful collaborators with lived experiences that matter. If your work touches young lives, let their voices lead, not as an afterthought, but from the start.

Slow Decisions in a Fast World: What Qualitative Research Reveals About Consumer Delay




One child proudly showed another a sticker journal she had been working on for weeks. The other child, feeling uneasy, rushed home and asked her mom to order 2000 stickers at the click of a button. She ran back to Child A and said, “Hah! Now I will make a better sticker journal than you.”

Feeling dejected, Child A turned to her mom, tearful. “She got 2000 stickers from Amazon for just 200 Rs. I’ve been working on my journal for so long—can we please order them too?” The mother hesitated. The amount wasn’t significant, and her child had been dedicated to her journal. But was feeding into instant gratification the right move? Would it set a precedent for wanting more, faster?

It was difficult to explain delayed gratification to a 10-year-old, but something had to be done. Instead, she fed the need for instant gratification in a different way. She took her daughter to a garden and asked, “Can we grow a beautiful tree overnight?” Her child shook her head. “Some things take time,” the mother said, handing her a packet of seeds. “Why don’t we plant these together and watch them grow?” The act of planting created excitement, and as they watered the soil, the urgency over stickers faded.

The Rise of Quick Commerce

Quick commerce has reshaped consumer expectations. Initially focused on groceries and medicines, it has expanded to lifestyle products, fueled by changing habits and hyperlocal logistics. Search trends like “15-minute delivery” and “fastest online shopping” surged post-pandemic, reflecting a growing expectation for speed across all categories. Companies like Zepto, Blinkit, and Swiggy Instamart capitalized on this shift, making near-instant shopping a norm. Businesses thrive on fulfilling this instant demand, yet the long-term effects on consumer psychology remain largely unexplored.

Quick Commerce and the Brain: Rewiring for Instant Gratification

Instant gratification triggers dopamine, reinforcing a craving for speed. As everything—from food to fashion—is delivered in minutes, patience erodes. The constant cycle of rapid rewards can alter how we perceive time, making even brief waits feel frustrating. This racing mindset can heighten stress and anxiety, making inevitable delays—like airport security, job hunts, or college admissions—feel unbearable.

The Link Between a Racing Lifestyle and Mental Health

The shift toward hyper-efficiency mirrors a broader societal trend—one where speed is equated with success. But this acceleration has consequences. Studies suggest that the inability to tolerate waiting correlates with higher stress levels and a reduced ability to handle setbacks. If everything arrives instantly, what happens when life demands patience?

The Inescapable Wait: Airports, Jobs, and College Admissions

Some processes cannot be rushed. Air travel, job applications, and college admissions all demand time and uncertainty. Yet, as quick commerce fosters an expectation of immediacy, frustration with these unavoidable waits intensifies. Can we sustain a mindset that tolerates delayed rewards when much of our daily life now revolves around instant delivery?

The Impact on Deep Work and Focus

Tasks requiring long periods of concentration—writing, scientific research, skill-building—are at odds with an environment built for speed. If a generation grows up expecting instant outcomes, will they struggle with deep work and perseverance? The ability to focus for extended periods is already waning, with constant digital interruptions reshaping attention spans.

Will We Lose the Ability to Wait?

Patience is a muscle that needs to be exercised. Without it, frustration replaces resilience. While quick commerce enhances convenience, it also risks weakening our ability to tolerate delays, setbacks, and the natural rhythms of life.

Before You Click on the Next 10-Minute Delivery, Ask Yourself:

In a race, speed is rewarded—but is life truly a race? And to which finishing line is this speed taking us?


#QuickCommerce #InstantGratification #PatienceVsSpeed #RewiringOurBrains #ConsumerBehavior #FastButAtWhatCost #DigitalAgeDilemma #HyperEfficiency #AttentionSpanCrisis #DelayedGratification #RacingMindset #DeepWork #FutureOfWaiting

AI, Authority, and Acceptance: Mapping Societal Codes Through Qualitative Research


The other day, while chatting with my daughter about the difference between authoritarian and totalitarian regimes, we decided to ask ChatGPT for its take on North Korea. It initially called North Korea an authoritarian regime, but my 10-year-old quickly pointed out, "No, it’s totalitarian!"


We asked ChatGPT again, and it corrected itself. My daughter, always quick to notice things, said, “See, mama, it’s covering up for its mistake.” 

I explained that AI doesn’t have an ego like humans—it’s not trying to defend itself. It just learns and updates based on the feedback it gets. No pride to hurt, just a chance to get it right.

This little moment was a reminder that it's okay to make mistakes and adjust—whether you're an AI or a person. We don’t have to be perfect, but we can be open to learning and improving. In the real or the virtual world what often saves the day is not - being right all the time but being willing to learn and adapt.

It is no surprise how children learn that 'mistakes need to be covered up'. It is hard to raise children in a society that penalises mistakes. Even if they are in a family or a school, which does not penalise all mistakes, inadvertently, in some situation - this thought seeps through to them - from other children, well-meaning neighbours and random strangers. It is difficult to reverse this thought once it takes root in one's mind. But certainly possible to replace it with a more accepting one. 

In one set of the research observations we conducted in a few government schools in Bangalore, with an intervention that was meant to plug in learning gaps - the volunteers who went about this program told the children each time they made a mistake - "don't worry, mistakes can be rectified" - and showed them how to rectify the errors. In 'all' our conversations with the children, we heard them repeat this like a chant. 

Teaching kids that “mistakes can be rectified” is a simple yet powerful way to build resilience. It flips the narrative. Instead of fearing failure, it becomes a natural part of the learning process.

#AI #Leadership #Mistakes #growthmindset

Gendered Play in Indian Childhoods: A Qualitative Lens on Culture and Code

I was at the park today, chatting with a mom when she shared a moment that stuck with me. She told me about watching a group of little boys in action—a common game, one boy shouting, “Fight!” and just like that, the others went at it. She laughed and mused about her own son, K, and how when he gets older, she won’t stop him if he wants to join in those games. “Boys need to learn how to fight,” she said. “It’s the only way they’ll survive in this world.”


But then, she went further. She talked about how we raise girls to "hang out with the right people," to surround themselves with kids from “nice homes with nice values.” It hit me—she was equating survival with fitting into these rigid, gendered roles. Boys fight, girls stay safe, and both need these skills to thrive.
I didn’t tell her anything. I have realised over the years that such beliefs are more about conditioning than about how educated or not a person is. As a generation, we grew up surrounded by such narratives all around us in popular culture. 

I left that conversation with this thought —what if we flipped the script, just for one generation? 

Maybe it’s time to rethink what it truly means to grow up in today’s world. 

And while I looked for an image to add to this post, I only found images with men dressed as women and vice versa and there in lies another reason for why one has to think of this subject in a more nuanced way. Rethinking stereotypes is not merely changing costumes but thinking of how men can balance the yang and women their yin energy.

'Ellare mane dose thuthu.’ (The dosa in every home has holes) - Culture, Identity, and Everyday Metaphors in Qualitative Research

 

I first encountered these words during a research interview when a mother, troubled by a conflict at home, shared a deeply personal situation with me. As a researcher, I’m given a unique and privileged lens into the lives of others: the way children are raised, the struggles parents face, and the challenges families navigate every day. It’s an invaluable perspective, one that’s helped me realize something profound—that the struggles we face at home often feel personal and isolating, as though we’re the only ones going through them. But when we hear others' stories, it becomes clear that these challenges are far more universal than we think. What initially feels like a private problem transforms into a shared experience.

This realization is a gift. It brings comfort and normalizes the messiness of life, particularly childhood. We begin to understand that these ups and downs—like the fighting, the tears, or the distance between children—are not isolated incidents. They are part of the human condition. Every second child is experiencing similar things. And more importantly, it’s not a reflection of something inherently wrong with our children—it’s simply because they are children, and other children are too. We, as parents and adults, are stressed, overburdened, and often caught in the crossfire of expectations—whether from our own parents or society.

So, I gently reassured the mother, who was clearly weighed down by her situation, that these struggles are not hers alone. They happen in homes across the world. The feelings of frustration, the emotional distance between children, the confusion and misunderstandings—it’s not just her child. It’s part of growing up, part of the parenting journey. And when I said this, it seemed to resonate with her. In that moment, she smiled and replied with words I’ll never forget: 'Ellare mane dose thuthu.'

Loosely translated, it means 'The dosa in every home has holes.' This simple phrase hit me like a quiet epiphany. It’s a powerful metaphor that I will always carry with me. In just a few words, she conveyed something profound about life, about childhood, and about imperfection. Those holes in the dosa—those little gaps and imperfections—aren’t something to be ashamed of or hidden away. In fact, they’re what make the dosa enjoyable.

Just like life, a dosa without holes would be flat, heavy, and dense. The holes—the pauses, the imperfections, the moments of tension—are what make it light, airy, and ultimately satisfying. They are the spaces we’re given to breathe, to reflect, to slow down, and to course-correct.

The phrase shows us that life is complete—notwithstanding the holes. Most importantly, it’s a reminder that if we focus too much on the holes, we may lose sight of enjoying the dosa.

#ParentingJourney #FamilyStruggles #ImperfectLife #UniversalChallenges #TheParentingReal #LifeWithKids #SharedExperience #ChildhoodImperfections #ParentingTruths #ParenthoodUnfiltered #LearningThroughStories #qualitativeresearchindia #qualitativeresearchstories