Flashback time. Thirty years ago, a younger version of me is working for the Government. The job is administering a remote village deep in the Himalayan mountain ranges. With a staff of five, who rarely come to the office, I have my work cut out. Read newspapers, and novels and watch TV. And yes, I am paid for this.
The art of giving doesn’t come naturally. Let me share a story to illustrate my point. We’ll travel back thirty years, to a time when I was twenty-four and stationed in a remote village on the border with Myanmar. I worked for the government, overseeing a vast area of 230 square kilometersdense forests, rugged mountains, and about 50,000 poverty-stricken people. My duties included monitoring the borders and ensuring other government departments fulfilled their responsibilities. My office-cum-residence was a two-room wooden shack. One room served as my bedroom, and the other, with a small wooden desk, was my office. There was no plumbing; I relied on rainwater and used an open-air toilet. If I was lucky, electricity might flicker on for an hour a day, though it often vanished for months. For senior staff, this place was considered a punishment transfer. But for me, just starting my career, it was an… The art of giving