Yesterday, at an AGM, I saw a liar and manipulator being destroyed. Not with drama, not with sirens or headlines, but with the quiet implosion that happens when one’s own tricks finally trip them up.

This man had thought himself clever. He placed his stooges in committees like pawns on a chessboard. He disrupted meetings, silenced dissent, and strutted like a puppeteer who believed the whole show existed for his strings. His strength was never his own—it came from weaklings he propped up to clap when he spoke and glare when he frowned.

But puppets are fragile. Without the constant tug of his strings, they flopped, stumbled, and collapsed like damp paper dolls. And with them, the mighty manipulator also fell.

It made me think—life always offers us two roles: the Manipulator or the Master Builder.

The Manipulator thrives on control. He weakens others so that he appears strong. He whispers poison, clips wings, and delights in keeping people dependent. His world looks powerful, but it is hollow—like a house of cards that topples with the faintest breeze.

The Master Builder, on the other hand, does the opposite. He strengthens those around him. He invests time in mentoring, trains people to think for themselves, and celebrates when they shine brighter than him. His strength comes not from keeping others small, but from building them tall. His world looks slower to grow, but it lasts.

I once knew such a builder. He let juniors make mistakes, learn, and lead. When I asked if he feared they’d outshine him, he laughed, “Bob, if they shine brighter, I’ll bask in their light.” Years later, his protégés run companies of their own, while his name is remembered with respect.

Contrast that with the manipulator I watched yesterday. His protégés were parrots, not leaders. When he fell silent, they had no voice of their own. When he stumbled, they had no strength to hold him. His fall was inevitable—not because his enemies destroyed him, but because he never built anything real.

It reminded me of the circus. One morning the ringmaster didn’t turn up. The lions sat confused, staring at empty cages. The clowns wandered aimlessly, unsure when to tumble. The elephants swayed nervously, waiting for a whip crack that never came. Without their master, the entire show collapsed—not because the performers had no ability, but because they had never been allowed to think or act for themselves.

Manipulators love running a circus.

So yes, yesterday I saw a manipulator destroyed. And it left me wondering—what do we want to be remembered as? The manipulator who played clever games and left nothing behind, or the master builder who raised strong people and left a legacy?

History never salutes manipulators. It always honors builders…!

————————————————–

Would love to hear from you in the COMMENTS section below…and IF YOU WANT TO RECEIVE BOB’S BANTER EVERYDAY, PLEASE SEND YOUR NAME AND WHATSAPP PHONE NO TO [email protected]
————————————————–