Today, something very simple happened—yet it stirred something profound in me.
For the last few years, I’ve been carrying a quiet but persistent question: Do the values taught by our parents and schools still matter in today’s relentlessly transactional world? Or are they just idealistic lessons that sound good in theory but quietly lose relevance in real life?
If you know me well, you know this debate has been close to my heart. We grow up being taught to work hard, be honest, respect others, act ethically, and show compassion. But once you step into the real world, it often feels like those values don’t carry much currency. Short-term wins, convenience, entitlement, and “what’s in it for me” seem to dominate. Over time, you start doubting your own value system—and worse, you begin losing faith in the social fabric around you.
Then life offered a reminder.
Over the past few months, my father-in-law had been unwell, and we arranged for a caregiver. Several people came and went. And then there was Tularam.
What stood out about him wasn’t just competence—it was intent. He didn’t behave like someone merely doing a job. He carried himself like a son caring for elderly parents. He treated our home with respect. If he was given food, he would quietly take his plate back, wash it, and put it away—without being asked, without expectation. There was always household help available, so it wasn’t required of him. But that was precisely the point. It wasn’t about duty or convenience; it was about values. That's just one example to establishing personality of Tularam and his core value system.
None of the other caregivers did this. It’s easy to feel entitled. It’s easy to say, “That’s not my responsibility.” But Tularam didn’t operate from entitlement—he operated from character. In a very short time, he stopped feeling like “staff” and became family.
Today, when he learned that we had lost our father, he came home to meet us. No obligation. No transaction. Just human connection. He was visibly emotional and told us he was available if the family needed any help.
Let’s be clear—none of this was expected of him. He had already fulfilled his professional responsibility with sincerity and ethics, and he had been paid for it. Everything beyond that came from something deeper—his inner compass. And similarly my mother-in-law rewarded his character whenever there was opportunity and hence it was win-win in a very pleasant way.
And that’s where this debate about values and ethics finds its answer, at least for me.
People like Tularam are living proof that values are not outdated. They are not impractical. They may not always be loud or rewarded immediately, but they quietly hold society together. In a world increasingly reduced to contracts, invoices, and roles, such people restore faith in humanity.
Ironically, we often see these values missing where they are most expected—sometimes even within close families, and certainly in corporate environments. Which makes these moments even more powerful.
In this deeply transactional world, encounters like this remind me why values still matter—and why they always will.
I would like to be around genuine humans like Tularam in my life and I am sure many of you would want the same. So it's our duty is also be Tularam in our own fields and don't lose the opportunities to recognise & reward other Tularams.
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