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From Palaces to Villages: Reflections on a World of Contrasts

Writer's picture: Adhitya RaghavanAdhitya Raghavan


This winter break, I had the privilege of stepping out of the HBS bubble and embarking on a whirlwind journey that took me from the opulent palaces of Udaipur to the shimmering deserts of Saudi Arabia; then to the serene simplicity of my village in Srivilliputhur, nestled at the foot of the Western Ghats; and finally, to the bustling cities of South Korea. Each stop offered a profound lesson on the disparities that define our world — and our responsibility to address them.


In Udaipur, I attended a wedding that could easily double as a Bollywood set: luxurious backdrops, endless feasts, and a crowd dressed to impress. Meanwhile, a 24-year-old boy served us food with a smile, his quiet presence a stark contrast to the grandeur around him. He was respected, yes, but could he ever dream of staying in that hotel or hosting such a wedding? The disparity was glaring, like a poorly directed film where the extras blend into the background — until you notice them. I was so entranced by the grandeur that I accidentally tripped over a floral arrangement. Not my finest moment.


Fast forward to Saudi Arabia, where I found myself with HBS friends at private resorts, indulging in jet skiing and paragliding. Our hotels boasted menus so extravagant, they could leave you spoilt for choice (yet somehow the pasta never tasted right — a mystery I’ll never solve). Outside, under the unforgiving desert sun, South Asian migrant workers toiled tirelessly, building the grand visions of cities like The LINE. Their presence was almost ghostly — essential to the spectacle yet invisible in its narrative. What struck me was not just the stark contrast, but also the systemic nature of their exclusion. These workers’ labor drives the luxurious lifestyles we’re complicit in enjoying, yet they remain locked out of even basic rights or recognition. At what point does luxury tourism become a moral question? Can we jetski past the issue without guilt or accountability? (as an aside, it turns out I’m also terrible at jet skiing — a humbling experience).


Then came Korea, an experience that epitomized contrasts. On an HKS trek, I met a North Korean defector who used to work on a farm. Within 24 hours, I found myself belting out karaoke in K-Town and savoring fancy Korean barbecue alongside government officials. As the smoky scent of sizzling galbi filled the room, I couldn’t stop thinking about something the defector had said: “In South Korea, if I worked, I would always be paid for it.” The simplicity of her statement floored me. She said it with such joy, as though she had stumbled upon a hidden treasure. Meanwhile, I was flabbergasted that I had never considered an alternative. It broke my mental model of work and reward, shaking me in ways that only kimchi and existentialism can. 


The disparity followed me home, this time in a much more personal way. A 12-year-old girl — our househelp’s daughter — spent her school break at our house. One afternoon, as I typed away on my laptop, she curiously pointed to the screen and asked, “What is this? Can you read it for me?” It was a simple moment but a profound reminder: computers and English, tools so ordinary for us, remain unattainable luxuries for millions. Her curiosity mirrored the hunger for opportunity I had witnessed across my journey, whether in the boy in Udaipur, the workers in Saudi Arabia, or the defector in Korea. And yet, her fascination also reminded me of my own first encounter with a computer—the sheer confusion of “Ctrl+Alt+Del” still haunts me.


So, what do we do about these disparities? Cry in despair? Feel paralyzed by guilt? I hope not. And for those of us in the HBS community, this question holds particular weight. Not only do we risk being insulated from the less privileged side of the world, but we also hold the power — and the responsibility — to drive meaningful change.


Here are a few reflections from my journey:


1. Don’t Turn a Blind Eye


It’s okay to notice inequality and acknowledge your privilege. You don’t need to feel guilty, but recognition is key. You can’t solve what you refuse to see. At HBS, we’re taught to tackle problems with data and frameworks, yet sometimes the most important step is simply looking up from the case study to see the world as it is.


2. Your Problems Are Still Valid


Traveling across Saudi Arabia was exhausting. Yes, I complained. Yes, my problems pale in comparison to others’. But that doesn’t make them any less real. Self-judgment won’t help anyone. Our professors remind us that leadership isn’t about choosing between the lesser of two evils, but about balancing competing priorities. This lesson applies to self-compassion too. Also, never underestimate the power of snacks — they can turn any bad day around.


3. Treat Everyone with Kindness and Respect


Kindness starts with perspective. When I landed at Madurai airport, an excited couple blocked the aisle taking selfies from every angle. Annoyed, I initially rolled my eyes, but then I realized it was likely their first flight — a lifelong dream fulfilled. So I offered to take a picture for them. Their gratitude lit up their faces, and to my surprise, it lit up mine too. At HBS, we’re reminded that small gestures can ripple outward, creating unexpected impact. Plus, my photography skills are now in demand.


4. Do What You Can, When You Can


Not everyone will go into the social sector, and that’s okay. But small acts count. Over the break, I taught the 12-year-old girl a few words of English while she helped me improve my Tamil writing. Small steps can have a big impact. HBS has instilled in us the belief that incremental change, when scaled, can be transformative (though my Tamil penmanship still looks like a child’s doodle).


5. Question the Systems


Whether it’s the luxury of Udaipur, the ambition of Saudi Arabia, or the development divide in Korea, disparities are rarely accidental. They are products of systems — systems we have the power to question and reshape. How can we, as future leaders, use our platforms to challenge inequity? Whether it’s rethinking supply chains, advocating for fair labor practices, or simply asking uncomfortable questions in boardrooms, our influence extends far beyond us.


As we dive into another semester, let’s carry these reflections forward. Every case we analyze, every decision we make — what if we used our learnings to make the world a little less disparate, a little more inclusive? The real challenge isn’t just balancing profit and purpose but having the courage to redefine what “success” means. Here’s to a semester of growth, perspective, and maybe, just maybe, making the world a tiny bit better.

Adhitya Raghavan (MBA ’25) is originally from Chennai, India. He learned about rockets during his undergrad at Princeton, studying Mechanical and Aerospace engineering. Adhitya loves playing sports and attempting to write poetry, and hopes to build his own energy company post-HBS.

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