I still remember that line from Macaulay’s infamous Minute on Indian Education, the one weall had to memorize for UPSC prep: creating Indians “English in taste, in opinions, in morals,and in intellect.”Back then, sitting with my history textbook, I dismissed it as colonial history-irrelevant tomodern India, a global leader on the world stage. I was wrong.
Here’s an uncomfortable truth: I graduated from one of India’s top institutes. I’m supposed tobe educated, progressive, “woke” even. Yet when someone said “CEO,” my mind automatically conjured the same image every time-a man in a crisp suit, polished shoes,stepping out of a luxury car.The data backs up how deeply this conditioning runs. Pearson’s global survey found that 8out of 10 people believe English proficiency directly boosts earning potential by 50-80%.We’ve internalized the idea that success speaks English, wears Western formals, and definitely doesn’t take public transport.And then I met Satyendra Singh Lihare.
Satyendra ji is the founder and CEO of Forest Naturals, a social enterprise working with marginalized indigenous farmers on Non-Timber Forest Produce (NTFPs). When I first saw him, he was wearing a simple shirt and trousers, with gamcha and regular slippers on his feet. He’d taken the bus to the meeting.My brain glitched.This couldn’t be a CEO. Where was the suit? The car? The air of corporate authority?But as he spoke, something inside me began to shift-maybe this is what fellowship is really about. Unlearning.
Satyendra ji doesn’t just talk about community ownership-he lives it. The major shareholdersof his company? The farmers themselves. Not investors in suits sitting in Mumbai or Delhi,but the indigenous communities whose lives depend on the forest produce.For the past five years, he’s been fighting to carve out space in a value chain that’s beenlocked down by generations of middlemen and businessmen who see newcomers asthreats, not allies. The forest produce business is notoriously difficult to breakinto-established players guard their territories fiercely, and an outsider trying to give farmersa better deal? That’s practically blasphemy.Yet he persists.
A Businessman by Mind, a Development Professional by Heart- That’s how Satyendra ji describes himself, and it’s not just clever phrasing. He genuinelyoperates at the intersection of both worlds.When market conditions are tough, he doesn’t pass the losses down to the farmers-heabsorbs them himself. When there’s a new technique or model that could benefit the community, he doesn’t hoard it as a “competitive advantage.” He shares it openly,transparently, ensuring the community benefits first.This isn’t charity. This is what ethical business looks like when someone actually means it.His trust in the community isn’t performative. It’s visible in every decision, every transaction,every transparent sharing of information. He’s building something rare-a business where the people at the bottom of the economic pyramid aren’t extraction points but genuine stakeholders.
Meeting Satyendra ji forced me to confront an uncomfortable question: How many”Satyendras” have I walked past, dismissed, or underestimated because they didn’t fit my narrow, colonized definition of leadership?How many times have I equated polish with competence, English fluency with intelligence,formal wear with professionalism?Macaulay’s vision succeeded not just in creating a class of intermediaries, but in making us believe that’s what success looks like. That real achievement wears a suit. That leadership speaks in a particular accent. That development happens in conference rooms, not buses.
Real development is messy. It’s a five-year struggle to break into entrenched markets. It’s choosing to wear slippers and take public transport so more resources can go to the community. It’s bearing financial losses yourself rather than passing them to the farmers who already have so little.Real development doesn’t happen in PowerPoint presentations at donor conferences. It happens when someone like Satyendra ji spends years building relationships, earning trust,and restructuring entire value chains so the most vulnerable have ownership, not just employment.
This generation desperately needs more people like Satyendra Singh Lihare-people who measure success not by personal wealth but by community transformation. People who see business as a tool for justice, not just profit.And we need to change what we imagine when we hear words like “leader,” “CEO,” and”success.”The next time someone mentions a successful social entrepreneur, I hope you’ll picture someone like Satyendra ji-possibly in slippers, definitely on public transport, absolutely committed to ensuring that the people who’ve been left behind for generations finally get their fair share.
Maybe that’s the real revolution we need-not just changing policies or systems, but changing the image in our heads. When a young student preparing for UPSC reads about development or entrepreneurship, I hope they picture Satyendra in his slippers, not anothersuit-clad figure in an imported car.Because that’s what genuine change looks like. It’s grounded, it’s humble, it’s persistent, andit centers the community above all else.The fruits of Satyendra ji’s five-year struggle might still be ripening, but the seeds he’splanting-of genuine ownership, transparent partnership, and dignified livelihoods-are already taking root. And every fruit that grows is shared with the community first.That’s not just business. That’s hope.And maybe, just maybe, it’s the beginning of unlearning two centuries of conditioning about what leadership, success, and progress actually mean.
When the next Satyendra Singh Lihare walks into a room, will you recognize the CEO? Orwill you be too busy looking for the suit?
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