The other day, the missus matter-of-factly asked, “Could you spare a minute to give career advice to my friend Sudha’s nephew?”
What began as a polite 10-minute phone call turned into a two-hour monologue about the young man’s dream of becoming a cryptocurrency influencer, complete with PowerPoint slides shared via Zoom.
By the end of the conversation, I had promised to review his 47-page business plan, introduce him to “some people I know” and attend his launch event next month, where the dress code is apparently ‘blockchain formal’—whatever that might be.
As I hung up, I realised with dismay that I had done it again! I had agreed to something when every fibre of my being wanted to refuse.
I would have avoided a lot of misery if I had simply used that magic two-letter word ‘no’! But I couldn’t even dream of saying ‘no’ to the missus. In fact, I am incapable of saying no to anyone—not even to our Residents’ Welfare Association.
Last week, the RWA WhatsApp group exploded in a burst of messages proposing a grand cultural festival. Our resident fauji, Brig. Sharma, declared participation was “mandatory for community bonding”, as if he would personally court-martial absentees and make them do 20 push-ups in the neighbourhood temple. Before I could type a diplomatic “let me check my schedule”, my wife had already replied with three clapping-hand emojis, a “looking forward!” and a string of firecrackers that somehow implied I would oversee all stage arrangements. I suddenly found that I had ‘volunteered’ to be on the decoration committee and the food committee, as well as a third committee that seemed to be solely meant for preventing hapless volunteers from quitting organising committees.
Social media has twisted refusal into a capital offence. Decline a Facebook event and you receive passive-aggressive messages: “We missed you!” with a sad emoji, as if you had skipped your own Bharat Ratna investiture ceremony at Rashtrapati Bhavan. Decline to sign yet another asinine petition for some stupid cause and you become the subject of three group calls, disapproving of your “strange behaviour since retirement”. The criticism is brutal.
One day, I decided to conduct a personal experiment. I would say no to the very next person who asked for anything and see if the world came to an end. The thought had barely crossed my mind when Kani Babu invited me to join the senior citizen’s walking club.
“No, thank you. I prefer walking alone with my thoughts,” I said.
“Arre, thoughts are dangerous things! Come; come with us. We discuss only religion and politics. Very peaceful. Also, we have a group song about cholesterol.”
Next morning, I had an unsatisfying walk, endured political bickering, and sang off-tune hosannas to statins with Kani Babu and other old fogeys.
My friend Gopu possesses rare diplomatic skills and the remarkable talent of saying no while sounding like he is saying yes. I begged him to teach me, and he condescendingly agreed to share a trick or two, while making it clear that my natural talent for mucking things up would probably ruin everything.
“The simplest is the sandwich method,” he said. “Even an idiot like you should be able to execute it. It’s simple: Compliment-Refuse-Compliment.”
He gave an example. “To a friend asking for a donation, say ‘you have such a generous heart, but I’m afraid I can’t help your good cause, though you always organise everything so beautifully’.”
I tried it yesterday, when the RWA Durga Puja Committee came around asking for a donation of just Rs5,000. I managed to fob them off: “It’s such a good cause, but I can’t help you. Though I hugely admire the way you organise the puja every year.”
I was euphoric! The sandwich technique worked! I had saved Rs5,000! But I wonder what I will do with the stall in the Puja Pandal, which has been allotted to me for ‘just’ Rs10,000.
In our culture, ‘ji haan!’ is the default setting because we are genetically programmed to please. Our ancestors said ‘yes!’ to just about everything and everyone—invaders and colonisers included. From childhood we are brainwashed to say yes. Yes, to extra rotis, yes to attending every shaadi, yes to forwarding every ridiculous good-luck WhatsApp message.
Putting one’s foot down and saying ‘no’ has become rarer than an honest politician. Refusal is considered rude, selfish, sinful, and, in extreme cases, anti-national. Saying no feels like breaking a sacred social contract and we are willing to rearrange our entire lives to avoid the mild discomfort of disappointing some stranger.
After much thought, I have concluded that the problem is that we feel compelled to explain every refusal. And because we are often unable to think up a good excuse, we simply say yes.
So pay attention everyone! You don’t need to explain anything. To anyone. Just say ‘no’. I suggest that this should be called a ‘refusal simpliciter’. A simple ‘no’, without sheepish excuses, without humming and without hawing. Or say no and give a reason that is no reason at all. Something like, “I am constrained to refuse as a believer of pratishedhnam kriya, which I am learning from Swami Nononarayan.”
Believe me, the quality of your life will improve vastly.
K.C. Verma is former chief of R&AW. kcverma345@gmail.com
