What Amjed has taught me

The first time I saw him, he reminded me (very non-politically-correctly) of a Muslim Santa Claus: bearded, with a belly, and always laughing.

For the past nine months, Amjed has been my driver. But much more than that, he has been my colleague and my friend. For reasons beyond either of our control, he's recently been replaced; unfortunately for him, with only a couple of days notice, no explanation, and no severance.

Since all of this happened while I was away--punctuated by mad phone calls and emails trying to reverse this,--I met him for coffee this evening to chat. Far from being angered by office politics, he was his old self: smiling, laughing, and knowing everything works out for the best.

I wasn't quite sure what we'd talk about, but turns out, a lot. He told me of his 22 years working at a solar energy company, where he was in charge of putting up solar panels in remote villages in Andhra Pradesh. In typical Amjed fashion, he became extremely animated as he spouted out the company's business model and why it ultimately failed. He told me of his two years working in Saudi Arabia, and about his brother working in Kuwait. I learned that he's the seventh of seven siblings; four boys and three girls, the children of an army officer. He himself has five children (three boys and two girls), ages 9-23. He proudly talks about his eldest son, who just graduated from computer engineering and is hoping to work in the Gulf.

On my walk home, I thought about what Amjed has taught me over these last nine months. As it turns out, a lot:

(1) True peace comes from within. I was always amazed by how calm Amjed always is -- navigating the crazy streets of Hyderabad, picking me up for the airport at 4am, being stuck in traffic. He never became anxious or worried, but rather, spread the feeling of calm to everyone riding along with him.

(2) The value of taking ownership. Amjed is one of the few people outside the corporate office who says "we" when talking about our hospital; many of our doctors and administrators don't even speak as a team, saying "you people" when they mean the corporate office. One question Amjed would often ask is: "How many births did we do at the hospital today?"; or ask how "we did" in an important meeting. He always posed intellectually-stimulating questions ("Why did we choose the hospital locations that we did?") -- but more than that, would follow-up after thinking about it. Shortly after our conversation about hospital locations, he picked me up from the airport and exclaimed that he had some ideas for potential locations for our new hospitals and when can we talk about it?! He's one of those rare people who you know would have been a CEO of a company, had it been for different circumstances. In an environment that often focuses on the quick win and sacrifices quality for speed, Amjed takes true pride in his work: getting anywhere he needs to be ten minutes early, being dependable, steady, confident, and calm.

(3) The strength that comes from faith. Amjed is one of the most devout people I know. He goes to the mosque each morning and on the afternoons and evenings he can, as well as all-day on Sundays. A strong component of his sense of peace is his knowledge that everything happens for the best, as everything happens from Allah's will. The only times I ever experienced him speeding was when I'd leave work late during Ramadan and he rushed to make it to mosque before sunset.

I know whatever he does next will be great, but I will certainly miss our daily interactions.