I must have been about five years old. My father was a journalist, and one monsoon season, he took me with him to cover flooding in a small town in India.
It had been raining relentlessly for days. The nearby dam was under immense pressure. Water levels kept rising, and there was growing concern that the structure might fail. If it did, entire villages downstream could be devastated.
Government officials gathered to assess the situation. The question was simple: Should they begin evacuating people?
The Chief Engineer responsible for the dam was called in. After reviewing the conditions, he calmly told everyone that the dam would hold.
But nobody seemed convinced. The pressure was enormous. The risks were unimaginable. The consequences of being wrong were catastrophic.
Then something happened that has stayed with me for decades.
Without saying another word, the engineer turned and started walking towards the dam. He climbed to the top. Walked to the middle. And stood there. Alone. Above the roaring water.
His message was clear: "I trust what I built."
As a five-year-old, I didn't understand engineering. But I understood conviction.
The image here is AI-generated, but the memory remains vivid in my mind.
AI can analyse, simulate and recommend. But it can't stand on the dam. It doesn't have pride in what it builds.
That's why I'll use AI extensively – but I wouldn't remove humans from the decisions where judgment, accountability and conviction matter.
Because businesses run on convictions, not just possibilities.