In the Company of Dignity

from Anshu Gupta.

The last few weeks have been different. I travel a lot — that’s no secret. But something about this stretch of travel has stayed with me in ways I’m still absorbing.

We began this year’s Chaupal in Mumbai. Around 200 - 250 of us came together - not as Directors, MDs, volunteers, or so-called ordinary citizens - but simply as people. Humans first. That’s the only rule at a Chaupal. Drop your titles at the door, sit in a circle, and just listen. It’s remarkable how much becomes possible when we meet like that. What emerges isn't just dialogue — it's a collective readiness to act, to use our time, skills, and presence differently.

And, it was beautiful to see how people are looking forward to new initiatives. And, how people want to know what we can do together. And, how we can use our skills, time, and resources.

And, we saw this in other places as well.

In Bangalore, where I spoke at the Failure Conference, another powerful space. A space not for polished victories, but for raw truth. People shared not just what worked, but what didn’t. And, it feels good when you hear such stories. And, when they start telling the truth with honesty - the realization and the message to the larger world that what you see often - the story of success - there are so many ups and downs to reach that place. How this so-called success is also a journey. And, it's not a journey of success. It's a journey of failures and success.

But if there was one place that truly shook something inside me, it was Gram Swabhimaan.

We spent several days in the villages of Bihar - Meenakshi (Mini), me and our local team. And what unfolded felt like a festival, not a meeting. No banners. No politicians. No stage. No announcements. Just people - thousands of them - showing up for something they couldn’t define, but fully felt.

Women came carrying small pouches of sindoor and bindis as a symbol of something traditional to gift to Mini. So many women came prepared to tie a rakhi. My hands were all covered with rakhis.  So many gave a pen as a symbol of strength.

They didn’t come for help. They came to give. 

And they danced. On the road - uninhibited, joyful. Most women, especially in rural Bihar, have never had public space feel like their own. But here they were - taking it. Not asking. Claiming. 

The road was theirs. And we, honestly, didn’t know where to place ourselves. We felt awkward. Undeserving. These are not places where we’ve done long-term work. No distributions. No interventions. No announcements. And yet, they welcomed us as their own. They drew us in. Pure, unfiltered love. That’s the magic - when the bond is not transactional. When it’s just human.

As I walked through the flood-prone regions, I met families who shift their homes every year, who move their homes to the roadside every monsoon - because their land floods for months - who still celebrate life in the months in between - festivals, rituals, marriages - who have internalized resilience to a point where I sometimes wonder - is too much resilience also a curse?

These past few weeks reminded me again: that dignity doesn’t come from outside. It isn’t something to be given. It is something we must recognize - first in ourselves.

Because when we call ourselves helpless, poor, or unskilled, the world doesn’t have to diminish us. We’ve already done it. Dignity begins with refusing to do that.

If you really want to know India in reality, if you want to know the country, you want to know the people of the country - I keep saying - spend time in the villages. Not as a giver, or donor. Not as a volunteer. Not even as a helper. Go with nothing. Expect nothing. Just sit. Listen. Absorb. 

Just go to spend time. Go for yourself. Go to enrich yourself. Go to learn. Go to change your language. You will find it meaningful. Not only because we are privileged, but also because we will be able to learn better, how to value what happens there.

So, whether it is about Gram Swabhimaan, or the Failure Conference, or many other speaking engagements, or the beginning of Chaupal's 2025 series, my last few weeks have been very beautiful, and very meaningful. They’ve been a reminder - that dignity is not something we give. It is something we must recognize. First in ourselves. And then, in each other.