What
a post I stumbled upon on LinkedIn the other day. It wasn’t flashy, long, or
begging for attention—but it stuck. Anish K. wrote, “You can’t move a cemetery
and expect help from the people buried in it.” Funny, yes. Absurd, even. But
somewhere between the chuckle and the pause, it revealed itself as pure truth
dressed in satire. And if you’ve ever tried to bring about change—in an office,
a family, a school, a society, or even in yourself—you’ll know exactly what he
means.
Think about it. How often do we dream of
doing things differently? Of breaking old patterns, challenging systems,
reimagining workflows, or building something fresh and meaningful? And yet, we
instinctively turn to the same set of people—the tried and tested (and tired),
the habitual naysayers, the “that’s not how it’s done” crew—to rally behind us.
It’s as if we’re trying to put together a flash mob using wax statues.
Enthusiasm? None. Movement? Minimal. Relevance? Questionable.
The real kicker is that many of us keep
repeating this cycle, expecting different results. We want to launch rockets
with anchors. We expect people stuck in 1982 mentally, emotionally, and
culturally, to suddenly pioneer the future. But the truth is, someone who has
spent their entire life resisting change is not going to lead transformation
just because you made a Canva presentation about it. No offence to Canva. But
you get the point.
There’s an almost tragic comedy to it. In
organizations, you’ll find innovation committees led by those who haven’t
updated their browser in years. In families, dreams of new beginnings are often
crushed under the weight of “log kya kahenge.” In friend circles, when someone
wants to start something bold, the first reaction isn’t curiosity but caution.
And when one finally steps out, those same skeptics turn around and say, “I
always knew you’d make it.” Plot twist? They didn’t.
The grave reality (pun intended) is that
we keep trying to bring about change with people who aren’t ready—or even
interested—in moving. It’s not just unproductive. It’s exhausting. And unfair
to those who are
willing. Because while we’re busy waiting for consensus, for every single voice
to agree, we’re losing momentum, and sometimes, even the initial fire that
sparked the idea.
Here’s something no one likes to admit:
change is never about everyone. It’s about the few who believe, who act, who
move. The rest usually follow when the results show. Or they just don’t—and
that’s okay. It doesn’t make them villains. But it does mean they shouldn’t be
holding the steering wheel.
This reminds me of countless projects
I’ve been part of—education reforms, literature festivals, leadership courses,
sports events, and spiritual learning spaces. Every time we tried something
new, there was resistance—not from opponents, but from those supposedly
“involved.” They weren’t against the idea. They were just...not moving. Silent.
Apathetic. Or waiting for “someone else” to do the hard part. The initial
conversations were full of energy until implementation knocked at the door.
Then suddenly, phones rang less. Emails went unanswered. People got “busy.” But
a small group—passionate, agile, clear—stood up and said, “We’ll make this
happen.” And we did. Not because everyone came onboard, but because a few
decided to paddle while others floated.
It’s also important to acknowledge the
emotional layer in all this. We’ve grown up being told to involve everyone, to
respect hierarchy, to not step on toes. And that’s not bad advice. But when the
house is on fire, you don’t organize a committee to debate water pressure. You
act. You pull in those who are awake, alert, and ready to help. The ones who
are stuck in rituals of the past can’t be expected to build the rhythm of the
future.
And let’s not pretend that change agents
are always the loudest, most senior, or the most experienced. Often, they are
the ones quietly trying new things, asking inconvenient questions, breaking
rules with respect, and carrying hope like it’s muscle memory. They’re the ones
with dirt on their hands, not dust on their resumes.
What this really boils down to is
permission. Giving yourself permission to move without waiting for a unanimous
vote. Trusting your instincts. Partnering with the willing. Because the truth
is, a few passionate people aligned in purpose will move faster than a stadium
full of undecideds.
So the next time you find yourself stuck
in stagnation—whether it's in a team, a relationship, a dream, or just your own
mindset—ask yourself: am I expecting support from the living or the buried? Am
I trying to build the future with hands that are clinging to the past? And most
importantly, am I waiting for applause from an audience that never bought a
ticket?
Because when it comes to creating
something meaningful, you don’t need everyone. You just need someone. Someone
who gets it. Someone who’s ready. Someone who’s alive.
And as for the rest? Let them rest. Don’t disturb the cemetery. Just build
somewhere else—with the living, the moving, and the ones who still believe in
possibility.
And if ever in
doubt, remember the line that started it all: “You can’t move a cemetery and
expect help from the people buried in it.” What a laugh. What a truth. What a
wake-up call.

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