Bushido (The way of the warrior)

Raj Basumatary had been introduced to Bushido long before he even knew the word. Growing up in Assam, he had started learning martial arts as a boy—first through traditional Bodo wrestling by the riverbanks, then Shotokan Karate, and later, as he grew older, Wing Chun, Jeet Kune Do, and Krav-Maga. 

His first teacher, an old schoolmaster who had studied Karate in Japan, had once told him, “Martial arts are not just about fighting. They are about knowing when not to fight.” That lesson had shaped him, guiding him through the streets of Guwahati, the pressures of IIT Kanpur, and eventually, the corporate world of New Jersey, where battles were fought not with fists but with words, strategies, and patience.

Now sixty, Raj still lived by Bushido, the way of the warrior. Not with a sword, but in every decision he made.

His day began before the sun rose. In the basement dojo of his suburban home, he moved through Chi Sau drills, flowing seamlessly from one motion to the next, feeling the invisible force of an opponent. His side kicks and stop kicks were sharp, his breath controlled. His movements had slowed with age, but they had become more refined—no wasted energy, no unnecessary strength.

By the time he emerged upstairs, his wife, Manisha, was making tea.

“Still training like you’re twenty?” she asked, handing him a cup.

Raj smiled. “Still fighting battles.”

But today's battle would not be in the dojo. It would be at work.

As a senior architect in a global tech firm, Raj had spent decades solving problems, designing systems, and mentoring younger employees. But now, a younger executive, Neil Carter, was trying to sideline him from a major project—one Raj had spent months refining. Neil was aggressive, charismatic, and eager to prove himself.

Raj had seen men like him before. Quick to rise, quicker to fall. Because they mistook aggression for strength.

The afternoon meeting was where the battle would take place.

Neil had already begun speaking when Raj entered the boardroom. He controlled the room with his energy, pushing for a revised approach, subtly implying that Raj’s design was outdated. The leadership team listened, some nodding along.

Raj sat quietly, observing. Rei—Respect. Meiyo—Honor. Chū—Loyalty. These were the principles he carried, even here. He did not rush to defend himself. He waited.

When Neil finished, Raj leaned forward. His voice was calm, steady.

“This project isn’t about one person’s vision. It’s about what works.” He paused. "Neil’s proposal is ambitious, but ambition without foundation leads to failure. The modifications introduce instability. We are not just designing a system—we are designing trust, security, and longevity."

Neil smirked. "With all due respect, Raj, the industry is changing. We need to evolve."

Raj nodded. "Evolution is necessary. But even in evolution, there are rules. If you ignore the fundamentals, you don’t evolve—you collapse."

Silence. Some of the senior leaders exchanged glances.

Linda Shaw, the head of the board, finally spoke. "Raj, what do you propose?"

Raj laid out his case—not with aggression, but with precision. He explained the risks, the alternatives, the balance between innovation and stability. He did not overpower. He simply let the logic take hold.

By the end of the meeting, the decision was clear. The project would follow Raj’s original roadmap, with his recommended safeguards.

As the room emptied, Neil lingered.

"You fight well," he admitted.

Raj met his gaze. "A warrior wins by not losing."

That evening, Raj sat in his backyard, sipping tea under the cool New Jersey sky. His battles had changed over the years—no longer fought in dojos or competition rings but in boardrooms and negotiations.

But the way of Bushido was the same.

Discipline. Honor. Patience.

And the quiet strength of a man who walked his path, no matter the battlefield