About a week ago, Anita ( editor of this platform) asked me if I’d write a piece about my upcoming trip to the Maldives. Anita is not just an editor to me—she’s a very dear friend whom I’ve known for decades. Over the years we’ve seen each other grow, change, and perhaps become a little more inward-focused. That long friendship brings a lot of trust; so when she asked, I said yes without hesitation. I assumed she meant a breezy travelogue—something about turquoise waters, pristine white beaches, maybe a story about snorkeling and the insights that surface when you’re forty feet underwater with only a turtle forcompany. But as life often does, it handed me a different theme.

The Fifth Time’s the Charm

A few days before the trip, my daughter flew in from New York. I had set myself a small (but not insignificant) goal: to finally complete an online course in Tibetan Buddhism – shorter than War and Peace, but still not exactly comic-strip reading. Now, a confession: this was not my first attempt. I had enrolled twice forthe year-long program. Dropped out both times. Tried the six-month version. Dropped out again. Even roped in friends for moral support. Still didn’t happen.This time, though, I signed up for a four-month version. And—I can hardly believe I’m typing this—I completed it. Even sat for the final test. And passed! Fifth attempt. Cue the confetti.

So what was different? The syllabus hadn’t changed. The monks were still monks. The content was still deep. The difference was Sandeep.

The Power of a Role Model

Sandeep was one of my fellow study partners. Unlike me (who thrives on bursts of enthusiasm and multiple half-finished projects), he has the gift of execution. Pick a task, stay with it, complete it. Quietly, diligently, humbly. While the rest of us scrambled to catch up, Sandeep was always ahead—consistently sharing his neatly summarized notes, reminding us what “discipline” looks like in real life. When he announced he’d finished the program and passed the exam, I felt an unmistakable kick in the backside. “If he can do it, Sanjay, so can you.” That push got me over the finish line.

Snorkeling at Dawn

This theme of learning from others carried into the Maldives trip itself. We went with another family this time, and our friend Sumit became the invisible choreographer of our days. Sumit is one of those maddeningly energetic people who thinks 6 a.m. is a great time to start life. Because of him, our schedule looked like this:

Snorkeling between 7:00 and 8:30 am.

Breakfast.

Midday games and volleyball.

Afternoon snorkeling again.

More games.

Lights out by 9:00 p.m.

Compare this to our usual family pattern: leisurely mornings, one activity (two if ambitious), late nights. Left to ourselves, we would never have packed in so much living. But following Sumit’s rhythm, I experienced the Maldives in a whole new way. Even my wife and daughter—normally less gung-ho about physical exertion than I am—were swept into this current of activity.

Role models at work again.

Lessons from Bharatanatyam

This idea isn’t new. I see it in my daughter’s Bharatanatyam classes. The teacher has students ranging from five to twenty-five, sometimes older. The younger ones watch the seniors with wide eyes, copying gestures and stamina. The seniors, in turn, are sharpened by the responsibility of being observed.

Everyone benefits. The “local maxima”—those who are just a little further along—become sources of inspiration. And then the torch keeps moving.

A Mathematical Aside (Humor Me)

Mathematicians have a phrase: local maxima. A point that is higher than its immediate neighbors, though not necessarily the highest in the universe. Imagine a group of people averaging 4½ feet in height. A person who’s 5’4” is their local maxima. They may not be the tallest player on the basketball court, but in that group, they stand tall.

That’s what I mean: find your local maxima. Not superhuman paragons. Not perfect icons. Just someone in your circle who embodies a quality you want to grow into—discipline, generosity, non-judgment, creativity.

Coming Home with a New Lens

Back from the trip, I made a list of the people I spend the most time with and noted what each was particularly good at. One friend is a tireless giver. Another, deeply non-judgmental. A third can connect with anyone, anywhere. A fourth radiates discipline.Then I asked myself: which of these qualities do I most want to cultivate this year?

The answers came clear:

1. Be more of a giver.

2. Be less judgmental.

So I’ve set myself a small experiment: spend more time with these particular friends, observe how they live these values, talk to them about it. Let their strengths rub off on me.

Why This Matters for Artists

If you’re a dancer, a musician, a painter—you know this instinctively. You grow not just by practicing alone in a room, but by placing yourself among others whose artistry stretches you. By watching someone take a raga or a jati or a brushstroke a little further than you’ve gone.

Inspiration isn’t abstract. It’s embodied. And often, it’s not about finding “the best in the world.” It’s about finding the best in your world, right now. Your local maxima. Cultivate them. Learn from them. Let them quietly reshape you. Because whether it’s completing a stubborn online course, snorkeling at dawn, or dancing until your anklets sing—sometimes the surest way to grow is simply to stand near someone who already has.

And maybe that’s the gift of long friendships too, like mine with Anita. People who’ve walked beside you for decades, trusted you through your unfinished drafts and your half-baked ideas, and believed something worthwhile would eventually emerge. More often than not—they’re right.