I marvel at the way some people seamlessly navigate post-retirement life and despair at the way others struggle to come to terms with the closure of their professional career.

The interesting thing is that whether a person embraces or struggles with post-retirement, is not dependent on how that person’s career unfolded. Be it a sterling career to reach a position of great responsibility or an average run of decades of sincere service that does not seem to determine the attitude and approach to letting go. Is it therefore inherent wisdom and a blessed detachment that helps one say goodbye and walk off to the next phase in life? Is it extreme attachment to an organisation, to a role, or even an egoistic expression of ‘I am still needed’ that prevents a healthy acceptance that one’s tenure is done? Is it the price one pays because they made their office and their role so central to their existence?

I cast my mind and find friends who, after great careers, never visited the office again. Instead with alert and open minds, they chose to jazz up their life with new interests and experiences and fresh purpose. These people provide pro-bono service in the social sector, do some people coaching, take responsibility for their Resident Welfare Association, all with the enthusiasm of a first job. I have a college batchmate, who post-retirement conceptualised and executed the largest residential solar power project in Bengaluru.

But my examples are not only about people who found new avenues. There are also friends who have brilliantly navigated this phase by rewarding themselves for a lifetime of hard work and accomplishment by immersing themselves in music, travel, photography or simply enjoying time with their grandchildren. These are wise people who let go the achievements and accomplishments of their past, thus freeing themselves to explore the new.

But the art of ‘letting go’ is not something one develops at 60. It is a mindset and wisdom that is developed in a variety of situations and circumstances right through one’s career. I witnessed this within a year of joining my first job. My supervisor, a dynamic sales manager with fantastic customer contacts, was asked to pass on the verdant Pune industrial business to me. The chief wanted me to grow into that role, while planning a new progression path for my supervisor. Sadly, my supervisor could not digest letting go of the Pune business he had developed over years. Not insecurity, not resentment, but the classic trap of – this is what I do best and I do it better than anyone else. Months later, when I won a huge order from one of those accounts, I announced in every company forum that I had merely collected the order and the credit must go to the person who had nurtured the account so well. That announcement by me was balm to the man, but I felt sad that a seasoned professional needed this kind of cushioning to make peace with changed circumstances. I vowed I will manage these things better.

Years later, when I had to move on from leading an extremely successful division with a close-knit team, I felt the pangs of what I would be missing. But I told myself, no sentiments – this will be a clean, happy break. I wrote a cheery farewell note recalling the best memories of my tenure with them. Some years later I moved on from that organization. I lost touch with many of them, though a few picked up the threads once WhatsApp came into our lives. We reminisce but I have a self-imposed rule: the minute someone talks of how I was a prime reason for the good times we had, I brusquely change the topic and discourage that thread of chatter.

Later, I also learnt the hard way, that there is no fixed rule of how you let go. In my next organisation, where again I had to move on from one leadership role to another, I did a ‘rinse and repeat’ process of doing a clean break with my division colleagues before moving on. Imagine my surprise when I realised that the clean break was something they could not come to terms with.What I felt was a neat farewell was an abrupt goodbye for them. They felt let down that I did not connect regularly with them or call to ask how they were doing. They felt that all the camaraderie I had built was only related to our work.How could I explain to them that if I continued my interactions, it might hamper their new leader who needed space to establish his relationships and work expectations. A chilled-out incumbent might be welcoming of the predecessor keeping contacts, hoping that it would help the team transition but an insecure leader or a ‘control-freak’ leader could misinterpret even harmless interactions as interference. I realised that while letting go is a necessary mantra of our career, one must be wise enough to assess and calibrate the process.

All said and done, letting go must become a conscious part of a professional’s attitude and approach to a career. The more lightly we hold on, the easier we will travel; the tighter we hold on, the more the emotional burden.

Among my college batchmates – we are all 70 – many have happily embraced retirement. We share old stories from our workplace. Now and then, some will announce, “I am going on a 2000 km bike ride’ or ‘I am going to do a podcast series’ or as in my case, announce ‘I am going to start sketching and painting’. My batchmates know I could not draw a proper perpendicular even with the help of the T-Square but believe I will do some art. That is a sign of stout friendship but it also signals their attitude to retirement. Only when we let go will we be able to reach out for something new.

(S Giridhar is one of the earliest members of Azim Premji Foundation.)

Published on May 31, 2026