The Chair: A Symbol of Responsibility - not to be taken lightly

There are many symbols of authority and legacy in our lives, but perhaps none as quietly powerful as "the Chair." More than just a piece of furniture, the Chair of a lawyer, a teacher, a doctor, a CA, or any professional or businessman, is a throne of trust, responsibility, and hard-earned stature. It is not meant to be casually occupied. It is something to be earned, not something to be claimed.

The incident I’m about to narrate is about a senior professional. He could be a lawyer, a doctor, or someone else, but I will refer to him as a senior professional:

Recently, while visiting a senior professional’s chamber, I observed something that disturbed me. The gentleman, a man clearly respected by his clients, had stepped out momentarily to confer with a colleague. In his absence, his grown-up son walked in and, without hesitation, took his father’s Chair. When the senior returned, his son remained seated, even as the father looked over files on his table while standing. Only after the son eventually got up did the senior reclaim his seat and resume consulting. The son, instead of stepping aside, continued looking over the files from another angle. When mildly rebuked, the son responded with arrogance and later reacted similarly when questioned about adjusting the room’s AC.

This exchange, unfolding publicly in front of clients, reflected not just a lack of humility but a lack of basic adab, the etiquette that defines how we interact with our elders and those in authority. Anyway, I return to the topic:

This episode brought back memories of my own youth, especially the days I accompanied my father to his CA office. Even after qualifying as a Chartered Accountant, I never dared to sit in his Chair. It wasn’t just a matter of etiquette; it was about reverence: for him, his journey, and what that Chair represented. I had seen this same sense of boundary and respect in many professional spaces: the rightful occupant of the Chair is the one who has earned it through years of dedication and learning. It is not merely about age or entitlement; it is about worthiness.

When my father eventually began withdrawing from practice, he told me to take his place, his Chair. Even then, I hesitated. He had entrusted me with the responsibility, not just of a profession, but of a legacy. It was a seat of duty and the silent witness to his struggles, perseverance, and wisdom.

Alhamdulillah, I consider myself fortunate today to have a son who shares that same feeling.

The Chair must be earned, not claimed. Taking it without humility or readiness dishonours both its legacy and its bearer. Let’s teach our children that success isn’t just about reaching the seat, it is about respecting the journey and those who came before.