In the vent in my bathroom outside the screen window, lies a
small nest between the metal grill and outer glass pane. Bits of straw and hay
gathered over many days carefully assembled together form a shelter from predators
and the elements. It is not the prettiest sight to see once you enter the
bathroom. It’s been present for a long time, but something always stayed my
will to ask our cleaner to sweep it off from the outside, even though it was a
barren collection of straws with no resident.
The nest reminded me of my own barren devotion to a project
I had taken up, a project that would have been dead if it were not for the
little lessons I learnt along the way. It was a project that I took personal
responsibility for, setting an ambitious goal which seemed to be a highly
daunting task. To publish one of my own works has always been a far-fetched
dream of mine, one that I have often talked about but never really worked on.
However, I learnt that with all your talk you need to deliver on something concrete
or it ends up as a barren and desolate dream, never realized and much like the
empty nest that I have kept seeing every day for months on end.
Today, it has been exactly a year since I started writing my
case study for AIESEC’s Experience Pakistan initiative. An exact three hundred
and sixty six nights ago, I sat up late at night writing down the first draft
after long interviews with a few key people in AIESEC. It was in those dark
hours that I finally decided to give that project a special shot. I honestly
gave it my all thinking that if done properly, some findings may actually be
able to help the organization. Also taking into account my short duration spent
in the organization since I joined in senior year, I intended to make up for
that gap because I felt indebted to AIESEC. Instead of one of those hasty
assignments that you work on and try to get over with, I devoted a full, sleepless
night to carve the draft to narrative perfection.
It was later that my course instructor saw the effort and
agreed that AIESEC indeed had a story to share, and invited me to work more on this
project if I wanted, and perhaps give it a shot at publication by entering it
in a case writing competition. A bell rang somewhere deep in my head; an
opportunity to chase my fairy tale dream? Another motive slowly took to my
heart as well: the opportunity to make a lasting contribution to IBA, my
business school, by contributing a case study. The bittersweet feelings of
entering the corporate world and leaving the student life behind had consumed
me. My decision to go forward with this project beyond graduation was based on
emotion rather than logic. I had never fully realized the pains of putting a
piece of work under a stress test for publishing.
After graduating last June, I took a break and kept the case
study on the backburner. Procrastination soon ensued, and the dream seemed set
to remain a fantasy. It was hard to force myself out of my static state and
start working on a new draft, the worst part being that I had to do it alone. I
started the slow and painful process of working again, evaluating the findings
one more time and tried to apply concepts to get to a suitable solution. The
case study was revised multiple times under the careful criticism of my
instructor at IBA, the only other person who was helping me with that case.
Perhaps the only thing that served as my primary motivation
at that point was the approach of AIESEC’s July Leadership Conference (JLC),
and I saw that as an opportunity to enlighten the executive body with my findings
so the weaknesses of Experience Pakistan could be corrected. I soon discovered
that if your primary motivation is something more fulfilling than a personal
fantasy, a greater hand from above guides you in your tasks you face on the
ground. Actually directing my efforts to deliver a presentation at JLC helped
me gain more satisfaction than writing the case itself, and the feedback gained
from the others was invaluable. The case was revised with all the feedback,
this time with more flair and motivation, and setup for a practical test.
Although I had left IBA, my instructor worked hard to run
the case study in class the following semester. With the case competition’s
deadline approaching in October, she integrated her test results and submitted
our case entry for Experience Pakistan. Ironically, I spent the month of
October on a work trip of the country, experiencing parts and flavors of
Pakistan I had never seen or tasted before. This was a point where I literally
felt that I was living the AIESEC embodiment of the experience we promise to
our interns here in Pakistan, and really hoped that our case would come out as
a top entry in the competition.
Come February, an email in my inbox alerted me to the result
of my case study submission; nerves tightened, emotions peaked, and prayers
escaped from the soul, all hoping for something positive as I clicked on the
email subject “ECCH New Case Writer Competition”. Alas though, it was not meant
to be and my dreams stayed a fantasy as I went through every word of the email
carefully: “Thank you for your entry… the judges faced a difficult decision… we
regret to inform you…” However, it contained a line inviting me to submit my
case for publication.
I relayed the news to my instructor in IBA, who still
suggested on more testing and further revisions. This time though, I was at
more of a loss. I thought I had possibly done all to convey a solid marketing
problem, and understood how best to strategically tackle the issue. I could not
think of how best to proceed. My attempts to gain some insights from fellow
AIESECers in Karachi could not garner much help, and I slumped into another
period of procrastination. It’s hard to go the distance alone.
However, reports from proud fellow AIESECers in IBA last
month, who were happy that an AIESEC related case was being taught in classes
served as a major morale booster. And it was then that I decided to go over all
the material one more time to find how best to improve our standing on the
case. I figured that it was the small and pure things that served as primary
motivators to push you over that finish line. The feedback from peers at IBA as
well as the little wonders during my recent travels in Pakistan served as fuel
that pushed me to write a more compelling case study for Experience Pakistan.
The nest outside my bathroom vent recently started ringing
with the little chirps of baby sparrows. After the cold winds of winter
subsided, the barren turban of straw I used to consider removing from the vent
had become a home. It was one of the many little sounds of springtime that
change the way you start your day. A gloomy Monday morning can’t remain that
way if you listen to that little singing, with the elder birds flying in and
out of the vent with a worm or two; a vision so sublime yet powerful that you
feel motivated to start your day with meaning as you witness the blooming life
around you. I learnt that it’s the little things that help you over a long and
arduous year of ups and downs: the motivation from friends, the pursuit of a
sincere and noble objective and the thought of contributing to a community you
have been a part of, rather than the raw pursuit of your personal fantasies.
Yesterday, I saw the baby sparrow for the first time as it
popped out of the nest and climbed on to the grill. It shook as it planted its
two twig-like feet on its perch, and tried spreading its new God-gifted wings.
Raising its little feathery head, it sang again in a hopeful tune, possibly
contemplating flight in the days about to come.
Three hundred and sixty six nights later, I have also just
finished putting in my final touches on the case, a long work in progress. With
another attempt at submission in the works, I can only hope that it breaks
through. Maybe such accounts are best told after one succeeds, but it is those
little things you need during your trial, the push from those who can help you
get over the finish line, that really matter. Dawn is approaching and the
distant sound of early birds is already filtering into my room; I wonder once
more if this is the morning when the sparrow takes flight.
