MMA organised a discussion on the theme of the book “Play to Potential: Lead a full life, become the best you.” Deepak Jayaraman, Author & Leadership Coach was in conversation with Bama Balakrishnan, SVP Finance, Sundaram Finance & Director, Dvara Research Foundation and Dr. Sathya Sriram, Independent Advisor.
Bama Balakrishnan: Deepak, it would be great if you could tell us about your podcast, ‘Play to Potential.’
Deepak Jayaraman: I started the Play to Potential podcast in 2016 when I left my previous role nine years ago. When I set out on my own, I realised one important thing: there would no longer be a corporate Learning and Development (L&D) function to take care of my growth. In a corporate environment, the L&D function typically organises various training programs as part of your professional journey. However, I understood that outside of that system, I would need to architect my learning journey myself. So, in a way, the podcast represents my personal exploration of curiosity.
Prior to this, I worked as a recruitment consultant with a firm called Egon Zehnder for six years, and before that, I was with McKinsey. The podcast was driven by two key questions I was curious about: How do people decide where to go? And how do they figure out how to grow? In the world of business strategy, organisations often ponder “Where to play?” and “How to win?” I wanted to translate that strategic thought process to individuals.
I began interviewing people from various domains to bring in diverse perspectives. Initially, I had conversations with corporate leaders in India, both men and women. I then connected with thinkers in the US from institutions such as Harvard, Wharton, and Kellogg. Over time, I also expanded the scope to include individuals from other fields, like sports, art, stand-up comedy, and so on. This podcast remains a journey of learning and curiosity for me.
When you’re a student, life is relatively simple. Back in the 1980s and 1990s, the focus was often on health and academics. But life has a ‘long middle’—from your 30s to your 60s and 70s—where multiple dimensions come into play. There’s family, children, spouses, parents, siblings, and the pulls and pressures that come with these relationships. You also face several transitions during this time. There’s the financial aspect, along with the challenges of the ever-changing world of work, including volatility in jobs. It is crucial to have a meaningful framework to navigate these complexities.
Bama Balakrishnan: What do you think about potential?
Deepak Jayaraman: The earliest understanding of potential comes from physics. There’s potential energy, which can be converted into kinetic energy. Potential, in this context, refers to stored energy that can be transformed into action and outcomes. When I worked at Egon Zehnder, we used to evaluate candidates at three levels. First, what the person has done; second, their competencies—how they achieve results, drive strategy, build teams, collaborate, and so on. The third aspect we assessed was the runway the person has—the capacity for future growth.
My real understanding of potential, however, came from my first guest on the podcast: Vijay Amritraj, the legendary tennis player from Chennai. At the end of each conversation on the podcast, I ask my guests what the phrase Play to Potential means to them. Vijay shared two thoughts that have stayed with me.
First, he told me about an interview he conducted with Buzz Aldrin, the second man on the moon. At Buzz’s home, he noticed a small plaque on the wall that read: “Who said the sky’s the limit when I have set my feet on the moon?” It’s a powerful reminder that potential is often limited only by our imagination—it’s virtually infinite.
Second, Vijay referenced Thurgood Marshall, the first African-American Chief Justice of the United States. When asked how he would like to be remembered, Marshall replied, “I want to be remembered as someone who did what he could with what he had.” I find this to be a profound definition of potential. Each of us is dealt a unique set of cards—our genetics, the family we’re born into, the country, the economic circumstances, the education we receive, and the society we’re exposed to. These cards form the context of our lives. The key question is: Given these cards, what’s the best game you can play?
It’s futile to compare ourselves to someone in a completely different context. Potential is deeply personal and situational. Most importantly, it’s often constrained only by the boundaries of our own imagination.
Bama Balakrishnan: A decade or so ago, “potential” was mostly understood in the context of professional or intellectual achievements. Today, I see people thinking about potential in contexts that go beyond just professional success or a fulfilling career.
Deepak Jayaraman: Yes, we have potential across so many dimensions of life—whether it’s in extracurricular activities, health, personal pursuits, or in the communities we live in. It extends far beyond the boundaries of work.
Sathya Sriram: The first transition I experienced in my professional journey was deciding to finish my PhD and step away from academic research. Initially, I was driven by my deep love for biology and a personal setback in my family—my grandmother was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease. As a teenager, I was fuelled by the passion to cure the disease, and that motivation carried me through college and my PhD. However, over time, I realised that I didn’t find as much joy in the process of scientific discovery itself. Instead, I became more excited by the impact that science could have on the world.
I was fortunate to have the opportunity to work with McKinsey & Company in healthcare consulting. This allowed me to bridge my background in science with the business side of healthcare—working with providers, payers, medical device companies, and pharma firms to bring those insights to life. This marked a significant transition for me—not as walking away from science, but rather becoming a translator, so to speak, between science, medicine, clinicians, and the business world.
Another key transition came when I decided to join The Hindu Group, a media house down the road. This was a major change because I had no prior experience in media. My entire career up until that point had been centered around healthcare sciences and consulting. However, the opportunity to transform a media group with a strong voice intrigued me, so I took the leap.
In this transition, I realised that industry-specific expertise isn’t always necessary. Other transferable skills often come to the forefront—problem-solving, breaking down complex problems, crafting solutions, bringing diverse people together, fostering collaboration, and offering fresh perspectives. It’s also critical to balance these new ways of thinking with the wisdom and expertise that already exist in an industry or company. I learned to use my ignorance as a tool for curiosity—asking questions, understanding ‘why,’ and building expertise quickly. This approach allowed me to integrate my skills and contribute effectively. These transitions, among others, have defined my journey.
Deepak Jayaraman: One of the terms I often use in my coaching work is, “Don’t wear your identity too tightly.” I encourage people to take their identity a little lightly because, more often than not, we tend to associate very strongly with our titles. We say, “I’m an accountant,” “I’m an engineer,” or “I’m a consultant.” While these labels are useful, they can sometimes become a cage that limits the world of possibilities.
If instead, we adopt a more open-ended perspective—saying, for example, “I’m good at solving problems” or “I have a strong understanding of numbers”—we can extract the core strength from that identity. This shift opens up a world of opportunities by allowing us to explore beyond the confines of rigid labels.
Bama Balakrishnan: With longer lifespans, we have longer careers. How do you think transitions are evolving in that sense? How is it changing?
Deepak Jayaraman: Reflecting on career transitions, I often think about my father, who worked at Indian Bank for 40 years, and my father-in-law, who served in the Indian Army for 35 years. Their professional journeys were like motorways—straight roads where you drive steadily forward. To do well in such a long race on a straight path, the most important component is the engine. Back then, transitions were fewer and more predictable.
When I look at our generation, perhaps we go through three, four, five, or six career transitions—more branches in the road compared to the previous generation. But for today’s teenagers and young professionals, the world looks less like a motorway and more like a maze, filled with twists, turns, and unexpected detours. In this context, I believe the auto component that becomes most relevant is the steering wheel. Of course, the engine matters, but the best engine alone won’t win the race. Without a good steering wheel, you’ll likely crash somewhere along the way.
What do I mean by the steering wheel? It’s self-awareness. In a world that’s increasingly volatile and chaotic, self-awareness becomes more crucial than ever. We often hear terms like VUCA (Volatility, Uncertainty, Complexity, and Ambiguity) and other abbreviations that describe the unpredictability of the world. But the one insight I’ve gained is that as external chaos grows, it demands greater internal stillness. Self-awareness isn’t new, but its importance has multiplied exponentially in a world full of options and moving parts.
I’m reminded of Barry Schwartz’s book ‘The Paradox of Choice.’ He explains that in a world with abundant options, you might expect people to be happier. But paradoxically, decision-making becomes more complex, and fear of missing out (FOMO) escalates. Take entertainment as an example—when I was growing up, Doordarshan was the only channel. Sundays at 10 a.m. were ritualistic in our home: onion sambar, rice, potato curry, and Mahabharat on TV. Today, we have hundreds of channels, countless OTT platforms, YouTube, TikTok, WhatsApp, and more. But are consumers necessarily happier now than they were 30 years ago? Barry Schwartz argues that they might not be.
In careers, this abundance creates similar challenges. Decision-making gets tougher, and FOMO becomes pervasive. Without clarity about who you are, what you want, what drives you, what you’re passionate about, and where your strengths lie, it’s easy to feel lost. You might constantly wonder, “Should I have taken that turn instead?” and end up in confusing or unintended places.
Bama Balakrishnan: Sathya spoke about different transitions and mentioned triggers at different points in time. In many cases, we are forced to act, and sometimes we choose to work our way up. How do you find the inputs needed to make those decisions? Where do you find those inputs?
Deepak Jayaraman: One of the people I spoke to on the podcast was Lynda Gratton, a professor at London Business School and author of ‘The 100-Year Life.’ She shared an interesting perspective on building skills and making transitions. For a long time, we often thought of ourselves in terms of the letter “T.” The vertical line represents depth in a single subject, while the horizontal line allows us to apply that depth in multiple contexts—for example, healthcare knowledge applied in media, hospitals, or other industries. However, she suggests that as we progress, the metaphor starts looking more like the Greek letter “π” (pi). At some stage, it might even resemble a caterpillar with multiple legs. One leg of π is straight while the other is slightly curved. The straight leg symbolises your depth, while the curved leg represents the new skills and capabilities you’re building as you pivot to new opportunities. Her key insight was: don’t stand on just one leg—develop multiple legs to keep yourself balanced and adaptable.
To illustrate this, I recall my conversation with Amish Tripathi, the renowned author. Many might not know that he is an alumnus of IIM Calcutta. He began his career at IDBI and worked there for several years, even rising to senior management. However, despite his success, he found himself lacking fulfilment in that journey. From childhood, he had always been passionate about mythology—his family would often discuss mythological characters over dinner.
Amish mentioned that he comes from a middle-class family and didn’t have the luxury of abandoning everything to pursue writing. Instead, he dedicated 10–20% of his time to writing while continuing his job. After publishing his first book and then his second, he finally made the leap into full-time writing when the royalties surpassed his pay check.
Each of us needs to find a way to nurture our tree in the shadows, to make space for passions and side hobbies while balancing current commitments. For some, these pursuits may remain hobbies for years; for others, they might eventually gain critical mass and evolve into a main career path—the very “leg” upon which the π symbol pivots.
Bama Balakrishnan: How did you find the courage to make the shift? How did you prepare for it? What steps did you take, and what kind of skills or muscles did you develop to move forward?
Sathya Sriram: Most often, we hold back from taking the road less travelled. As a fairly analytical person, I found that I had to create a framework for myself every time I faced a major crossroad. Over time, I realised that the cost of stagnation—staying in the status quo—can actually be greater than the risk of change. Recognising that helped me calibrate my decisions. I’d ask myself, ‘If I continue to stay where I am, will this puddle keep getting murkier? Is this really where I want to be? Or is this the moment to take a leap—whether or not there’s a visible bridge to land on?’
Mapping out a framework of pros and cons for staying in the same place versus moving on gave me clarity and comfort when it was time to take a risk. Of course, there were several opportunities where I consciously chose to stay where I was, but having this structured approach helped me decide when the leap was truly worth it.
In terms of preparation, when I transitioned from academia to McKinsey, I benefited significantly from their professional development program. They put us through what they called a mini MBA, which helped us grasp the foundational principles. Over time, though, much of the learning happened on the job.
When I transitioned into media, I didn’t have the advantage of a structured program like that. So I relied on self-study—going back to the basics, diving into the media world, and reading enough literature to get up to speed.
Another crucial part of my preparation was reaching out to people who had navigated similar transitions before me. Talking to them gave me a clearer understanding of what I was stepping into. I made sure my eyes were as wide open as possible. For example, during my move into consulting, I leaned on my husband, who was already a consultant. I could ask him all my questions, express doubts and fears, and get honest answers without any judgment. By the time I transitioned into media, I was fortunate enough to have built a broader network of people to lean on. Consulting them helped me anticipate challenges and allayed many of my fears.
So for me, the process involved a mix of structured learning, self-driven study, and leveraging the wisdom and experience of my network. These elements combined to help me navigate the uncertainty of new terrains.
Deepak Jayaraman: If I look at transitions from a mental model perspective, the ‘trapeze’ analogy comes to my mind. Think of a circus artist holding on to the next trapeze before letting go of the current one. It’s like Tarzan swinging from one branch to another.
During my time as a recruitment consultant, I often encountered candidates saying, “I have this job and this job—what should I choose?” My response was usually, “Are you sure these are the only two options available to you? Could there be something else that makes even more sense?” This highlights a common tendency, especially in senior leadership roles, to remain tethered to the immediate options visible from where we currently stand. By doing so, we may inadvertently limit the world of possibilities.
People who make significant breakthroughs, however, often pause to explore what else might be out there. Take, for example, our classmate Sumeet Mehta. He now runs a unicorn company that partners with low-income schools, providing them with the technological backbone needed to deliver high-quality education. His company is currently valued at around a billion dollars. But years ago, he was a mid-management leader at Procter & Gamble in Singapore. At some point, he said to himself, ‘I’m not making the impact I want to.’ He took a six-month break to reflect and eventually decided to tackle a problem he was passionate about. That decision marked the beginning of a remarkable journey.
Often, people hesitate to take such leaps because letting go of the familiar is daunting. This reminds me of a memorable scene from Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade. Harrison Ford’s character faces a chasm he must cross to retrieve medicine for his dying father. The paradox is that he has to take a leap of faith—only then does the bridge reveal itself. Similarly, at senior levels, transitions may require letting go of the safety net. While the prospect can be frightening, most of us have networks, savings, and other resources to lean on. By being honest about our context, many of us are in a position to afford a sabbatical or pause. Often, such a step can open up entirely new worlds of opportunity.
Bama Balakrishnan: In all our journeys and transitions, we are all looking for our ikigai, but we need a map to get there. You have coined a term ‘Flavour.’ Tell us more about that.
Deepak Jayaraman: Ikigai is a powerful concept built around four circles: what you’re good at, what you enjoy, what the world needs, and what the world will pay you for. If you operate at the intersection of these four circles, you’re set—it’s like drilling for oil. But while inspiring, I find Ikigai to be a bit abstract and high-level. A compass might point you to true north, but following it blindly without looking for a swamp on the way leads nowhere.
I believe life is a team sport, with the team often being your family. Family means different things to different people, and life’s personal forces often push and pull us in various directions. For example, I returned from the US to India in 2008 to support my father during his cancer treatment. These family dimensions are inescapable and an integral part of life.
The second aspect I notice in people reaching their full potential is the ability to connect with what they truly love. While some might find this fulfilment at work, most thrive by nurturing a passion outside of work—a hobby like playing an instrument, gardening, trekking, running, or community service. These activities serve as a recharge, rejuvenating us for life’s demands.
Next is aspiration, not ambition. Each of us wears multiple hats, with each hat representing an identity. Aspiration is about balancing these roles thoughtfully. Another critical element is recognising and utilising your unique value while seeking opportunities. Each of us has a distinct set of skills, networks, and relationships that we can leverage to make meaningful contributions. For instance, homemakers often make invaluable contributions to the world, even though families can be low-feedback, low-gratitude environments. This is an observation I’ve come across.
The next piece is self-awareness and self-investment—taking care of your physical health, mental well-being, and building capabilities. Lastly, relationships are vital—not just friendships but also broader connections with those you wish to engage with more meaningfully. These dimensions came together for me as the word ‘Flavour’: Family, Love, Aspiration, Value, Opportunity, Investment in yourself and Relationships. It’s a framework that I believe provides a grounded and holistic map for navigating transitions and finding meaning in life.
