The next morning, I woke up to the alarm going off on my mobile. It was a song praising Goddess Mookambika. It reminded me of the power of Amma, which was always with me to help me achieve my goals. And in the day that lay ahead, I would have to make some headway in finding out the real problem faced by the firm, and not just the symptoms.
After a breakfast of idli and sambar, Lok uncle and I headed off to the factory. On the way, I thought about his diagnosis of the problem: increasing costs. “Okay, let’s start with that,” I thought to myself.
At the factory, I was closely watching the production process. One sure-fire way to reduce costs was to improve efficiency in the operations. I didn’t know how to do this. We had to reduce wastage. A big question mark hovered above my head.
I called up Yogesh, my dear friend and classmate for our MBA programme. He was known as Mr. Database amongst us. He had a great network of friends. He was in touch with friends, right from kindergarten to B-school. He maintained contact with seniors, juniors, faculty members, and even people from other departments—just about every body from B-school.
“Abhi! I heard you’re back from Bangalore,” he said. “What are you doing now?”
Yogesh was working in an insurance company. His flamboyant and magnetic personality had made him an instant success at selling insurance policies. I sometimes wondered whether his good looks more than helped him in his job.
I narrated my problem to him, and he straightaway reminded me about Radha Jayadevan. Of course! Radha Jayadevan! She had been our sub-junior. She was a brilliant engineering graduate, who used to think differently. She was like a flower filled with nectar, and all of us were like honey bees trying to get to her. But our juniors, those pests, would always keep us away from her.
She had landed her first job at Chennai, based on my referral. But after that, I had changed my SIM card and we didn’t contact each other. I guess we had been too busy to do that. But she did know a few things about me. She knew about my struggle with tumor and how I overcame it to graduate on time. She knew of my resilience.
Yogesh told me that she had been working at Hyderabad, but later quit her job. He said that now she must be at Alappuzha, which was her native place! And I had forgotten all about that!
“Yogi, this is too good to be true! Tell me you’re not joking!” I exclaimed to him. I was excited to no limits.
“Hey, just wait a second, man! I heard that her parents want her to get married and are searching for a groom. So, I don’t know whether she’ll help you out,” Yogesh clarified.
Hearing this, my spirits dampened, like a seesaw. Mr. Database gave me her phone number and hung up. With fingers crossed, I dialed her number.
A sweet voice answered my call. It was Radha. I chose not to play “Guess who?” with her. “Hi Radha! It’s me, Abhinav,” I greeted her.
“Abhinav Madhavan?” she responded. “Wow! It’s been a long time. How are you?”
“Fine, thank you.”
“What are you doing now?”
“Helping my uncle out in his business. He owns a concern called Lakshmi Industries in Alappuzha.”
“Lakshmi Industries? Oh! I’ve passed by its premises. It’s owned by your uncle, huh?”
“Yes. It’s in the red right now. And that’s why I’m here. By the way, Yogesh told me just now that you’re in Alappuzha.”
“I had found my job quite stressful. I want to work in another sector. But I haven’t decided which one yet. Right now, I’m taking a break...and my parents are looking for a groom,” she said. And then giggling, she said, “I don’t know which of these will happen first.”
Listening to her laughter, I remained silent.
“Tell me Abhinav.”
“Radha, could you do me a favour? I…er…I don’t know a thing about the production process here. Could you have a look at it and suggest some improvements, if it’s not inconvenient for you?” I asked, hesitantly.
“Of course I’ll help you! What inconvenience?” she replied. “Besides, I owe you one. I got my job based on your referral. And that also helped me land another job with a fat pay packet.”
“But Radha, your second job didn’t go well. So do I get negative marks for that?” I joked.
“Negative marks? I know you’ve given me that for not having contacted you,” she said. “This is my chance to make amends for that. There’s no problem. My parents also know you, and its getting boring here too. When shall we meet?”
“Thanks Radha!” I was overjoyed. Her presence would mean making long strides in solving our problems. “How about…today evening itself?”
“Fine. How’s 5 pm?”
“Excellent. Shall I pick you up?”
“No, thank you. I’ve got my brother’s Honda Activa here and my driver’s license. How about meeting at the boat jetty?”
“That’s fine. See you there,” I said, relieved.
“Chalo. Perfect,” replied Radha.
***
I reached the spot in an auto rickshaw before 5 pm and waited for her. ‘Biwi’, that’s what my classmates used to call Radha—B for ‘Beauty’ and W for ‘Wits’. She used to be everybody’s dream girl. So a pun was also intended on ‘Biwi’. Just as I recalled these things, Radha arrived riding a Honda Activa and stopped beside me. A man, I didn’t know, accompanied her.
“Hello Abhinav,” she greeted, in a low voice, as both of them got off the scooter. She placed the scooter on the side stand.
“Hi Radha,” I too greeted her, in a low voice.
“Meet my brother Mahesh Annan .”
“Hi.”
“You talk to each other while I go to that shop and come back,” Mahesh Annan said, pointing towards a store, before walking towards it.
I narrated all that I knew about the firm and my interaction with the workers to her, as she listened. In between, she asked me, “You were able to say those things to the workers there? So you’ve overcome your jitters?”
“Well, I had to put my best foot forward. I guess if you are so determined, and you’re working so hard to achieve your goal, things like stage fright are peanuts,” I realized.
After listening to my recital, she said, “Okay, Abhinav. If I can see the manufacturing process, then maybe we can find out ways to improve. What time should I come to Lakshmi tomorrow?”
“When are you free?” I asked her.
“How about 10 am?” she asked in reply.
“Thanks, Radha.”
“Chalo. Perfect.”
She gave Mahesh Annan a missed call, and in a few moments, he came out with a shopping bag in his hand. They left the place on their scooter.
I was doubly relieved. Her big black eyes told me that she would come up with something big tomorrow. I caught another auto rickshaw and went back to Lok uncle’s place.
***
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
PART 2: THE RENAISSANCE -----> Chapter 1
July 2006
The next day, I packed my bags, boarded a KSRTC bus and went down to Alappuzha. I arrived outside Lok uncle’s abode: ‘Vishnu Nivas’. Opening the gate, I looked at the two-storey building, which was going to be my home for…I didn’t know how long. Would we all have to pack off together, I wondered. I felt for the notepad in my pocket. It was there. I walked past the small garden and uncle’s Zen parked in the porch. On reaching the front door, I pushed the doorbell. It made a sound like a chirping bird. Nandi aunty opened the door and greeted me. The big red bindi on her forehead was her trademark. I entered the sitting room and looked around. There was one thing about Lok uncle even when he had been doing well—he had a modest and simple lifestyle. There was no expensive furniture, no plasma television, no home theatre system and no crystal ware in his home.
Uncle walked into the room. Amma had told me that he was relieved at my offer to help. But understandably, he still looked quite dejected. “Rising costs is the problem,” he said, getting right into the scheme of things. “They are spiraling out of control…and I’m not able to reduce it. Abhi, what do you think about selling off the business?”
He seemed to be in a Catch-22 situation. Looking at his grim face, I remembered the time when I had failed to get into IIM. “Abhinav, you will keep falling down in life. In fact, it happens to everybody. But you must keep getting up. Always look up and you will win,” he had consoled me.
“Uncle, let’s forget about the past and do something about the future,” I said. It was my turn to console and encourage him. “There is always light at the end of the tunnel. We will make up for the past lapses. There is always scope for improvement. Don’t worry. We will solve the problem soon. Don’t think of selling the business. In fact, your business has got huge potential.”
I paused, thought for a while and continued, “The New Testament says, ‘The kingdom of God is within you.’ It means that God has given us all the abilities we need. It is up to us to develop these abilities and use them. We will do this uncle.” I emphasized the word ‘will’.
Lok uncle seemed to be content with my reply. He arranged a room for me in his home. All the rooms were cross-ventilated and no room was dark during daytime. This was something special about his house.
Nandi aunty served me a lunch of rice and her popular meen curry. There was an incident related to her dish, which was quite well known. A few years ago, some folks were shooting a film in the neighboring house. A film star, who was there for the shoot, came over to Lok uncle’s place for lunch. He liked the dish aunty served him and praised her hand at cooking. With that compliment, she came to be known as a good cook amongst friends and relatives. As for the actor, he won a lifelong loyal fan, as aunty, from then on, never missed a single film of his.
After lunch, we went to the factory to meet the workers.
***
Lok uncle’s business premises comprised an area of four acres. There were about fifty workers at his factory, and yes, they were affiliated to some Labor Union. I met Anto Joseph, the Production Manager. He told me a few things about the present situation. Speculation was rife that the firm was incurring losses and it would either be shut down or sold off to a buyer, thereby leaving the workers in the dark.
The workers had finished their day’s work when Lok uncle introduced me to them. He said that I was his nephew and that I had come from Bangalore to help him out in the business. Anto was beside me. I told uncle that I would meet him in his office.
Upon interacting with the workers, I found that these guys had an attitude problem. Each guy talked about the problem being ‘his’ or ‘the firm’s’. They didn’t refer to the problem being ‘ours’ and that ‘we’ had to solve it.
This attitude problem required the creation of an ideal organization climate and culture. This particular aspect was being given a lot of importance these days. People must feel good about their organization and they must transact in an appropriate manner both within and outside it. We had to have a mission, vision and values. We had to define and constantly articulate acceptable behavior to them.
“The problem,” I told them “is more about controllable attitude than about uncontrollable costs.
“Friends, I’m an MBA graduate and I’ve successfully launched a new variant of biscuit in a highly competitive consumer market. Nobody agreed to my idea when I initially proposed it. But I managed to push it through and today the product is a success.” They all looked on, squint-eyed. “I am here to solve some problems Lakshmi Industries is facing. True, there are issues of costs to be dealt with, but we won’t shut this down, nor will we sell it off.”
On hearing this, their eyes widened. They were probably relieved that their jobs would be safe. I went on: “But, to solve these problems, I need your help. You people must believe in your abilities and must stand by me.
“Let me quote Lord Krishna from Bhagavad-Gita: ‘To conquer your enemy and enjoy the glory of sovereignty, I have already slain the warriors. You will only be my instruments.’ Just focus on your job and we will solve this problem.”
Some of them nodded their heads. The others would probably do so after consulting their Union leaders, I thought. I then called it a day for them. As they dispersed, I said good-bye to Anto and went to Uncle’s office located in the premises itself.
There, I started talking about the firm’s organization culture and what we should do about it. Although he didn’t know such jargon, uncle seemed to have understood what I was talking about. But he was a bit too skeptical when he replied, “Da, this is not Bangalore. I don’t think what you say will work here.”
I then realized that we must first focus on finding an immediate solution. “Uncle, don’t worry about that. We’ll first find out the real problem. I want to know everything I can about this business—the organization structure, financial position, procurement of raw materials, production, distribution and people.”
He briefed me on how things were run in the firm.
***
By the time we reached home, night had fallen. Aunty didn’t ask me anything about what I thought about the firm. Amma had told me that aunty would never interfere in business matters. Aunty would never ask Lok uncle: “Did you get that client you were looking for?” or “Did you get those raw materials at the price you wanted?” She was mainly concerned with their only daughter Padma who was a software engineer at Chennai.
While taking a shower, I thought about the business. I knew about organization structures: how they should be, depending upon the nature and size of business. I didn’t know about the financial position of competitors, which we could have used as a benchmark. But they wouldn’t share such information with us. I knew what sort of marketing the firm should go for. But I didn’t know much about manufacturing and that’s where the workers come into the picture. I began to feel the pressure.
***
That night, as I lay on the bed, I wondered what really my heart’s calling was. It was not to work as an employee of a biscuit manufacturing company. I believed that every one of us had a purpose in life. Just like what I had told Lok uncle, every one of us is gifted with some unique talents. It is up to us to discover and use them to find out our destinies. What were my talents? What was my destiny?
I used to rely on intuition to make some tough decisions. My persistence with the mint-coated biscuits was the outcome of my intuition. I just knew it would work. I had had this gut feeling. For the time being, I decided to focus on our turnaround strategy at Lakshmi.
***
The next day, I packed my bags, boarded a KSRTC bus and went down to Alappuzha. I arrived outside Lok uncle’s abode: ‘Vishnu Nivas’. Opening the gate, I looked at the two-storey building, which was going to be my home for…I didn’t know how long. Would we all have to pack off together, I wondered. I felt for the notepad in my pocket. It was there. I walked past the small garden and uncle’s Zen parked in the porch. On reaching the front door, I pushed the doorbell. It made a sound like a chirping bird. Nandi aunty opened the door and greeted me. The big red bindi on her forehead was her trademark. I entered the sitting room and looked around. There was one thing about Lok uncle even when he had been doing well—he had a modest and simple lifestyle. There was no expensive furniture, no plasma television, no home theatre system and no crystal ware in his home.
Uncle walked into the room. Amma had told me that he was relieved at my offer to help. But understandably, he still looked quite dejected. “Rising costs is the problem,” he said, getting right into the scheme of things. “They are spiraling out of control…and I’m not able to reduce it. Abhi, what do you think about selling off the business?”
He seemed to be in a Catch-22 situation. Looking at his grim face, I remembered the time when I had failed to get into IIM. “Abhinav, you will keep falling down in life. In fact, it happens to everybody. But you must keep getting up. Always look up and you will win,” he had consoled me.
“Uncle, let’s forget about the past and do something about the future,” I said. It was my turn to console and encourage him. “There is always light at the end of the tunnel. We will make up for the past lapses. There is always scope for improvement. Don’t worry. We will solve the problem soon. Don’t think of selling the business. In fact, your business has got huge potential.”
I paused, thought for a while and continued, “The New Testament says, ‘The kingdom of God is within you.’ It means that God has given us all the abilities we need. It is up to us to develop these abilities and use them. We will do this uncle.” I emphasized the word ‘will’.
Lok uncle seemed to be content with my reply. He arranged a room for me in his home. All the rooms were cross-ventilated and no room was dark during daytime. This was something special about his house.
Nandi aunty served me a lunch of rice and her popular meen curry. There was an incident related to her dish, which was quite well known. A few years ago, some folks were shooting a film in the neighboring house. A film star, who was there for the shoot, came over to Lok uncle’s place for lunch. He liked the dish aunty served him and praised her hand at cooking. With that compliment, she came to be known as a good cook amongst friends and relatives. As for the actor, he won a lifelong loyal fan, as aunty, from then on, never missed a single film of his.
After lunch, we went to the factory to meet the workers.
***
Lok uncle’s business premises comprised an area of four acres. There were about fifty workers at his factory, and yes, they were affiliated to some Labor Union. I met Anto Joseph, the Production Manager. He told me a few things about the present situation. Speculation was rife that the firm was incurring losses and it would either be shut down or sold off to a buyer, thereby leaving the workers in the dark.
The workers had finished their day’s work when Lok uncle introduced me to them. He said that I was his nephew and that I had come from Bangalore to help him out in the business. Anto was beside me. I told uncle that I would meet him in his office.
Upon interacting with the workers, I found that these guys had an attitude problem. Each guy talked about the problem being ‘his’ or ‘the firm’s’. They didn’t refer to the problem being ‘ours’ and that ‘we’ had to solve it.
This attitude problem required the creation of an ideal organization climate and culture. This particular aspect was being given a lot of importance these days. People must feel good about their organization and they must transact in an appropriate manner both within and outside it. We had to have a mission, vision and values. We had to define and constantly articulate acceptable behavior to them.
“The problem,” I told them “is more about controllable attitude than about uncontrollable costs.
“Friends, I’m an MBA graduate and I’ve successfully launched a new variant of biscuit in a highly competitive consumer market. Nobody agreed to my idea when I initially proposed it. But I managed to push it through and today the product is a success.” They all looked on, squint-eyed. “I am here to solve some problems Lakshmi Industries is facing. True, there are issues of costs to be dealt with, but we won’t shut this down, nor will we sell it off.”
On hearing this, their eyes widened. They were probably relieved that their jobs would be safe. I went on: “But, to solve these problems, I need your help. You people must believe in your abilities and must stand by me.
“Let me quote Lord Krishna from Bhagavad-Gita: ‘To conquer your enemy and enjoy the glory of sovereignty, I have already slain the warriors. You will only be my instruments.’ Just focus on your job and we will solve this problem.”
Some of them nodded their heads. The others would probably do so after consulting their Union leaders, I thought. I then called it a day for them. As they dispersed, I said good-bye to Anto and went to Uncle’s office located in the premises itself.
There, I started talking about the firm’s organization culture and what we should do about it. Although he didn’t know such jargon, uncle seemed to have understood what I was talking about. But he was a bit too skeptical when he replied, “Da, this is not Bangalore. I don’t think what you say will work here.”
I then realized that we must first focus on finding an immediate solution. “Uncle, don’t worry about that. We’ll first find out the real problem. I want to know everything I can about this business—the organization structure, financial position, procurement of raw materials, production, distribution and people.”
He briefed me on how things were run in the firm.
***
By the time we reached home, night had fallen. Aunty didn’t ask me anything about what I thought about the firm. Amma had told me that aunty would never interfere in business matters. Aunty would never ask Lok uncle: “Did you get that client you were looking for?” or “Did you get those raw materials at the price you wanted?” She was mainly concerned with their only daughter Padma who was a software engineer at Chennai.
While taking a shower, I thought about the business. I knew about organization structures: how they should be, depending upon the nature and size of business. I didn’t know about the financial position of competitors, which we could have used as a benchmark. But they wouldn’t share such information with us. I knew what sort of marketing the firm should go for. But I didn’t know much about manufacturing and that’s where the workers come into the picture. I began to feel the pressure.
***
That night, as I lay on the bed, I wondered what really my heart’s calling was. It was not to work as an employee of a biscuit manufacturing company. I believed that every one of us had a purpose in life. Just like what I had told Lok uncle, every one of us is gifted with some unique talents. It is up to us to discover and use them to find out our destinies. What were my talents? What was my destiny?
I used to rely on intuition to make some tough decisions. My persistence with the mint-coated biscuits was the outcome of my intuition. I just knew it would work. I had had this gut feeling. For the time being, I decided to focus on our turnaround strategy at Lakshmi.
***
PART 1: THE WAY TO GO -----> Chapter 2
I planned to relax during the next few weeks. Nowadays, CEOs are in favor of taking a short five-day break from work. Thirty-day vacations were passé for them. But these weren’t old-hat for me. I took the time to visit the temples where I had been a regular visitor during my student days, and also caught up with a few relatives.
I went to supermarkets to check the supply of my biscuit variant. Taking a pack of them in hand at one of the stores, I thought what a strange variant I had proposed—mint-coated biscuit! I had chanced upon that idea while having biscuits with mint tea. Initially colleagues laughed at the product concept. They said I was crazy. But I had read what Albert Einstein had once said, “If at first the idea is not absurd, then there is no hope for it.” My persistence with the concept paid off. The idea got through and became a product. And it clicked in Kerala, which was chosen as the test market.
On one afternoon, when I returned from a movie, I found Amma looking worried. She gave me news that Lokanath, her one and only brother, was having financial problems. He was the owner of Lakshmi Industries, a concern that produced industrial goods of relatively small value like ropes, nails, screws and bolts of base metal. The firm was presently operating in the red. Amma wondered if I could be of some help in turning around the firm into a profit-making one.
I wanted to help Lok uncle. I carefully considered the options available to me. This looked like an opportunity for me to acquire valuable experience in running a business in Kerala. And I didn’t have to be an employee there. I didn’t have anything to lose. My heart had told me to quit my job. Now it was telling me that this was the right choice. I decided to take a chance.
My only concern was whether I would make things worse for Lok uncle. I simply couldn’t go for any ‘mint-coated biscuits’ type thinking. It was just too risky. Uncle’s business was already doing terrible. One mistake on my part, and he could well go bankrupt.
I realized I was losing self-confidence. I reached for my trusty notepad and read a quote by William Shakespeare, from Measure for Measure: “The miserable hath no other medicine / But only hope.” But Lok uncle had not become miserable yet, I thought. I found another one by Vince Lombardi: “The quality of a person’s life is in direct proportion to their commitment to excellence, regardless of their chosen field of endeavor.” After reading a few more quotes, I felt like Popeye who had just had his spinach. I was now ready to face the uphill task.
I went to supermarkets to check the supply of my biscuit variant. Taking a pack of them in hand at one of the stores, I thought what a strange variant I had proposed—mint-coated biscuit! I had chanced upon that idea while having biscuits with mint tea. Initially colleagues laughed at the product concept. They said I was crazy. But I had read what Albert Einstein had once said, “If at first the idea is not absurd, then there is no hope for it.” My persistence with the concept paid off. The idea got through and became a product. And it clicked in Kerala, which was chosen as the test market.
On one afternoon, when I returned from a movie, I found Amma looking worried. She gave me news that Lokanath, her one and only brother, was having financial problems. He was the owner of Lakshmi Industries, a concern that produced industrial goods of relatively small value like ropes, nails, screws and bolts of base metal. The firm was presently operating in the red. Amma wondered if I could be of some help in turning around the firm into a profit-making one.
I wanted to help Lok uncle. I carefully considered the options available to me. This looked like an opportunity for me to acquire valuable experience in running a business in Kerala. And I didn’t have to be an employee there. I didn’t have anything to lose. My heart had told me to quit my job. Now it was telling me that this was the right choice. I decided to take a chance.
My only concern was whether I would make things worse for Lok uncle. I simply couldn’t go for any ‘mint-coated biscuits’ type thinking. It was just too risky. Uncle’s business was already doing terrible. One mistake on my part, and he could well go bankrupt.
I realized I was losing self-confidence. I reached for my trusty notepad and read a quote by William Shakespeare, from Measure for Measure: “The miserable hath no other medicine / But only hope.” But Lok uncle had not become miserable yet, I thought. I found another one by Vince Lombardi: “The quality of a person’s life is in direct proportion to their commitment to excellence, regardless of their chosen field of endeavor.” After reading a few more quotes, I felt like Popeye who had just had his spinach. I was now ready to face the uphill task.
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
PART 1: THE WAY TO GO -----> Chapter 1
June 2006
It was a hot sunny afternoon. I was homeward bound on a train from Mookambika. I had gone there to offer prayers and to express my gratitude to Mookambika Amma . For, I had successfully created a new variant of a biscuit at the company where I was employed at. The regional launch of the variant was highly successful and we were gearing up for the national launch. At this juncture, the company announced a reward for me—a promotion, a salary hike and a paid trip to Malyasia—if the all-India launch would be successful. But I didn’t stay on at the company. I quit.
I had read a motivational book, which said that one must follow the calling from one’s heart. And I believed it. My friends would always warn me not to read such books. “Abhi, authors of such books convey notions without considering the ground realities of the situation. Those tips wouldn’t work for us,” they would say. But I had to keep reading these to retain self-confidence. I also had a notepad in which I wrote inspirational quotes and ideas. It helped me find relief and motivation in times of pressure.
I reached Cochin the next morning. Achan and Amma were relieved to have me with them after a long time. I promised that I would be with them for at least a month before I moved on to my next thing. I finally got to have Amma’s chorum thairum chammandipodiyum after a long wait. I also got to see the rains from the terrace of our house. To see the rains approaching from a distance was the most beautiful sight. My last assignment on the new biscuit had kept me away from home. And when the launch had become a success, they offered me an all-expenses-paid foreign vacation! I would never leave Achan and Amma for something like that!
It was during our ‘post-lunch discussion’, when we were talking about the latest happenings among friends and relatives, that Achan told me about Prof. Sreedharan’s phone call.
“He called to ask how you were doing on your job. I told him that you quit. He wants you to contact him.”
“I think I’ll go meet him,” I replied. “Maybe tomorrow itself.”
Prof. Sreedharan was the Dean of the business school, at Kottayam, where I had done my MBA.
***
“Passing out from a modest B-School and making it big is a greater accomplishment,” I pointed out to Prof. Sreedharan, sitting in front of him, in his office, at Kottayam.
“Yes, Abhinav,” he agreed. “But nowadays, B-Schools are mushrooming all over the state. This is adversely affecting the quality of the students of each passing batch. I think your batch and your seniors were the best students we’ve ever had.”
I was flattered. I believed that ours was a batch of indifferent fools, me included. We didn’t want to learn anything. We just wanted to freak out during those two years.
“This Thursday, it will be three years since you people passed out from here.”
Prof. Sreedharan knew each one of us personally. But he was always fair and just while dealing with us. While penalizing us for indiscipline, he was never partial.
“Advise them on their approach towards the MBA programme,” he invited me to speak to the batch of freshers. I obliged unwillingly. Facing a new audience still gave me the jitters.
I walked into the classroom along with him. And the first thing I looked for was the podium so that I could hide behind it. This was one object one could not do without. To me, a podium was like a barricade used by policemen during a lathicharge. If you didn’t have one, the mob would pulverize you.
The Prof. introduced me to the freshers—a bunch of wide-eyed people who looked like batsmen surprised at being given out LBW. They looked even more nervous than me.
The first semester was always tough. You had to adjust to your new surroundings, peers, and faculty. But for some, the fun was just about to begin—life away from the control of parents.
I walked up to the podium and faced the audience. Placing my hand on the wood, I felt nostalgic for a moment. Then I came back to my senses. Making speeches never came easy to me. I decided to be theoretic to these fellows, for, they were going to do the practicals themselves. I began:
“First of all, congratulations to all of you for making the final cut. An MBA means different things to different people. I think you ought to spend these two years developing your emotional intelligence. Rely on feedback from friends and do a lot of introspection. Derive maximum knowledge about the subjects you deal in, the world around you, and different industries. Your ‘personality factor’ is very important. Set targets to read maximum number of books from the library.
“Apart from subject knowledge, I learnt a few things from our faculty. Thomas Mathew sir taught us to focus on the positive side of things; Peter Jacob sir showed us how to break up a problem into several parts and solve each part and also to do things in a systematic and disciplined way; and Sahadevan sir emphasized the commitment we must have towards our customers. We learned to make decisions in an ambiguous environment at this very place and Prof. Sreedharan taught us the most important lesson, which is about attitude—‘never give up’.”
The freshers listened to every word I spoke, with their mouths open. All what I had said, was actually what one was supposed to do at B-School. But we realized this only after we had graduated from the programme. I didn’t want these persons to have the same fate. You are supposed to walk in as one person and walk out as another by the time you complete the MBA programme.
I thought I had given them enough to think about. I bade good-bye to Prof. Sreedharan and left the place.
While driving back to Cochin in Achan’s Esteem, I took a trip down memory lane. I went back to our hostel days. We used to ride ‘triples’ and ‘quadruples’ on bikes to the movies, cautiously avoiding the highways, which were subject to policing at night. During a movie, one of my friends dozed off. When the movie ended we forgot to wake him up. Only on the way back we realized he wasn’t with us. I also had memories of a friend who always wore his underwear over his shirt so that it would stay tucked in his pants throughout the day.
There was another incident when we were felicitating a guest at an event. I was to make the announcements. ‘Hearty congratulations’ was what I was supposed to say but I ended up confidently saying ‘heartfelt condolences’. The error was unintentional. There was a speech to be made at the same event by a classmate, who was poor in grammar. I wrote out the address for him. But when his turn came, instead of reading from it, he improvised, leaving us all red-faced. Some event managers we were! I hadn’t recollected any of these things on my job at Bangalore. My mind, at that time, had been filled completely with biscuits.
I reached Cochin in the afternoon. After parking the car in front of a shopping mall, I went to my favorite bookshop on the 2nd floor. There, while searching for one of Paulo Coelho’s books, I heard people shouting slogans from outside. I came out from the shop to check what was going on.
A group of people wearing white shirt and white mundu were shouting catchwords against a police barricade in front of the mall. They were protesting against the opening of a supermarket inside the mall. The problem was that the supermarket was owned by an MNC. Maybe they thought that MNCs should not own supermarkets.
I took a good look at the demonstrators. Amidst the dissenting crowd, I saw a familiar face. I had seen this guy many times in class during the days I was doing B.Com. It was Subodh. But his name seemed to be inappropriate in this context. What was he doing, shouting slogans in front of policemen armed with lathis?
As I watched from the 2nd floor, the police seemed to have got bored with the antics of the protestors and began to lathicharge the troublemakers. One particular policeman seemed to take delight in whipping the rear end of a plump protestor. The hapless man’s mundu loosened and came off, revealing striped light blue underwear, as large as a pair of Bermuda shorts. He hastily picked up his wear from the ground and fled the scene. In a few moments the crowd was dispersed.
I could see Subodh standing in front of a building nearby across the road. I came out of the mall and crossed the road to meet him.
“Are you alright?” I asked Subodh as we shook hands.
Subodh was not the type who would show his embarrassment. He smiled at me and said, “Oh! Those poor fellows got tired of chasing us.”
“It didn’t take even one minute to get you guys off the place,” I teased him. “It’s been years since we last met! What do you do nowadays?”
“I’m with my uncle.”
“That’s great! What does he do? Must be into business?”
“Actually, he doesn’t do anything. He’s unemployed. I give him company.”
I recalled his failed relationship in college. His lack of seriousness was the reason given by his girlfriend when she had dumped him. Many friends consoled him saying that she didn’t deserve a nice and responsible person like himself. That itself was a paradox.
I told him about my present status. “Hey, even I am unemployed!” I realized aloud.
We stepped into the nearest restaurant and ordered meals for lunch.
“What about our classmates?” I enquired.
“Many of them are in the Gulf, working as accountants. Most of the others are scattered all over India. Our pals Ashish and Madhu are in Thiruvananthapuram.”
“What’s your plan?”
“I’m also trying to get a job visa to Dubai, the City of Gold.”
Mixing sambar with rice, I thought about his slogan shouting and politics. “Da Subodh, you know what? There’s something sad about Kerala. We have Labour Unions here that are quite hostile. They aim at getting higher wages for lesser work. It puts off anyone trying to establish an industrial unit here. The result is that there are few decent jobs out here.
“Our people are then forced to go abroad for work. But it’s their remittances that keep Kerala’s economy going. So, the upshot is that you have a state, which doesn’t promote industrialization but is entirely dependent on industries abroad for sustenance. And that’s hypocrisy.”
“Hey Abhi!” reacted Subodh, almost yelling. “Are you blaming our political party? We are against these MNCs coming into our place. Okay?” He had suddenly turned unfriendly. Obviously, my remarks had offended him. He didn’t get my point at all. And I had thought dodos were extinct.
“Subodh, I believe there’s space for everyone,” I maintained. “Everyone can have a share of the Kerala consumer market, and that includes MNCs. I’m not blaming any political party. I’m blaming people like you who don’t understand the consequences of your activities.” It was indeed frustrating to witness the sad plight of affairs in our state. But I decided to hold back. There was no use arguing with him. Besides, we were meeting after a long time.
Our college days had been filled with campus politics. There were student wings of various political parties, which were active on campus. Slugfests amongst members of rival parties were common. But at the end of the day, foes would usually turn friends and walk out of college, arms over each other’s shoulders, as a gesture of friendship.
After lunch, Subodh joined his associates who were still in the vicinity of the mall, while I went back to the bookshop.
***
It was a hot sunny afternoon. I was homeward bound on a train from Mookambika. I had gone there to offer prayers and to express my gratitude to Mookambika Amma . For, I had successfully created a new variant of a biscuit at the company where I was employed at. The regional launch of the variant was highly successful and we were gearing up for the national launch. At this juncture, the company announced a reward for me—a promotion, a salary hike and a paid trip to Malyasia—if the all-India launch would be successful. But I didn’t stay on at the company. I quit.
I had read a motivational book, which said that one must follow the calling from one’s heart. And I believed it. My friends would always warn me not to read such books. “Abhi, authors of such books convey notions without considering the ground realities of the situation. Those tips wouldn’t work for us,” they would say. But I had to keep reading these to retain self-confidence. I also had a notepad in which I wrote inspirational quotes and ideas. It helped me find relief and motivation in times of pressure.
I reached Cochin the next morning. Achan and Amma were relieved to have me with them after a long time. I promised that I would be with them for at least a month before I moved on to my next thing. I finally got to have Amma’s chorum thairum chammandipodiyum after a long wait. I also got to see the rains from the terrace of our house. To see the rains approaching from a distance was the most beautiful sight. My last assignment on the new biscuit had kept me away from home. And when the launch had become a success, they offered me an all-expenses-paid foreign vacation! I would never leave Achan and Amma for something like that!
It was during our ‘post-lunch discussion’, when we were talking about the latest happenings among friends and relatives, that Achan told me about Prof. Sreedharan’s phone call.
“He called to ask how you were doing on your job. I told him that you quit. He wants you to contact him.”
“I think I’ll go meet him,” I replied. “Maybe tomorrow itself.”
Prof. Sreedharan was the Dean of the business school, at Kottayam, where I had done my MBA.
***
“Passing out from a modest B-School and making it big is a greater accomplishment,” I pointed out to Prof. Sreedharan, sitting in front of him, in his office, at Kottayam.
“Yes, Abhinav,” he agreed. “But nowadays, B-Schools are mushrooming all over the state. This is adversely affecting the quality of the students of each passing batch. I think your batch and your seniors were the best students we’ve ever had.”
I was flattered. I believed that ours was a batch of indifferent fools, me included. We didn’t want to learn anything. We just wanted to freak out during those two years.
“This Thursday, it will be three years since you people passed out from here.”
Prof. Sreedharan knew each one of us personally. But he was always fair and just while dealing with us. While penalizing us for indiscipline, he was never partial.
“Advise them on their approach towards the MBA programme,” he invited me to speak to the batch of freshers. I obliged unwillingly. Facing a new audience still gave me the jitters.
I walked into the classroom along with him. And the first thing I looked for was the podium so that I could hide behind it. This was one object one could not do without. To me, a podium was like a barricade used by policemen during a lathicharge. If you didn’t have one, the mob would pulverize you.
The Prof. introduced me to the freshers—a bunch of wide-eyed people who looked like batsmen surprised at being given out LBW. They looked even more nervous than me.
The first semester was always tough. You had to adjust to your new surroundings, peers, and faculty. But for some, the fun was just about to begin—life away from the control of parents.
I walked up to the podium and faced the audience. Placing my hand on the wood, I felt nostalgic for a moment. Then I came back to my senses. Making speeches never came easy to me. I decided to be theoretic to these fellows, for, they were going to do the practicals themselves. I began:
“First of all, congratulations to all of you for making the final cut. An MBA means different things to different people. I think you ought to spend these two years developing your emotional intelligence. Rely on feedback from friends and do a lot of introspection. Derive maximum knowledge about the subjects you deal in, the world around you, and different industries. Your ‘personality factor’ is very important. Set targets to read maximum number of books from the library.
“Apart from subject knowledge, I learnt a few things from our faculty. Thomas Mathew sir taught us to focus on the positive side of things; Peter Jacob sir showed us how to break up a problem into several parts and solve each part and also to do things in a systematic and disciplined way; and Sahadevan sir emphasized the commitment we must have towards our customers. We learned to make decisions in an ambiguous environment at this very place and Prof. Sreedharan taught us the most important lesson, which is about attitude—‘never give up’.”
The freshers listened to every word I spoke, with their mouths open. All what I had said, was actually what one was supposed to do at B-School. But we realized this only after we had graduated from the programme. I didn’t want these persons to have the same fate. You are supposed to walk in as one person and walk out as another by the time you complete the MBA programme.
I thought I had given them enough to think about. I bade good-bye to Prof. Sreedharan and left the place.
While driving back to Cochin in Achan’s Esteem, I took a trip down memory lane. I went back to our hostel days. We used to ride ‘triples’ and ‘quadruples’ on bikes to the movies, cautiously avoiding the highways, which were subject to policing at night. During a movie, one of my friends dozed off. When the movie ended we forgot to wake him up. Only on the way back we realized he wasn’t with us. I also had memories of a friend who always wore his underwear over his shirt so that it would stay tucked in his pants throughout the day.
There was another incident when we were felicitating a guest at an event. I was to make the announcements. ‘Hearty congratulations’ was what I was supposed to say but I ended up confidently saying ‘heartfelt condolences’. The error was unintentional. There was a speech to be made at the same event by a classmate, who was poor in grammar. I wrote out the address for him. But when his turn came, instead of reading from it, he improvised, leaving us all red-faced. Some event managers we were! I hadn’t recollected any of these things on my job at Bangalore. My mind, at that time, had been filled completely with biscuits.
I reached Cochin in the afternoon. After parking the car in front of a shopping mall, I went to my favorite bookshop on the 2nd floor. There, while searching for one of Paulo Coelho’s books, I heard people shouting slogans from outside. I came out from the shop to check what was going on.
A group of people wearing white shirt and white mundu were shouting catchwords against a police barricade in front of the mall. They were protesting against the opening of a supermarket inside the mall. The problem was that the supermarket was owned by an MNC. Maybe they thought that MNCs should not own supermarkets.
I took a good look at the demonstrators. Amidst the dissenting crowd, I saw a familiar face. I had seen this guy many times in class during the days I was doing B.Com. It was Subodh. But his name seemed to be inappropriate in this context. What was he doing, shouting slogans in front of policemen armed with lathis?
As I watched from the 2nd floor, the police seemed to have got bored with the antics of the protestors and began to lathicharge the troublemakers. One particular policeman seemed to take delight in whipping the rear end of a plump protestor. The hapless man’s mundu loosened and came off, revealing striped light blue underwear, as large as a pair of Bermuda shorts. He hastily picked up his wear from the ground and fled the scene. In a few moments the crowd was dispersed.
I could see Subodh standing in front of a building nearby across the road. I came out of the mall and crossed the road to meet him.
“Are you alright?” I asked Subodh as we shook hands.
Subodh was not the type who would show his embarrassment. He smiled at me and said, “Oh! Those poor fellows got tired of chasing us.”
“It didn’t take even one minute to get you guys off the place,” I teased him. “It’s been years since we last met! What do you do nowadays?”
“I’m with my uncle.”
“That’s great! What does he do? Must be into business?”
“Actually, he doesn’t do anything. He’s unemployed. I give him company.”
I recalled his failed relationship in college. His lack of seriousness was the reason given by his girlfriend when she had dumped him. Many friends consoled him saying that she didn’t deserve a nice and responsible person like himself. That itself was a paradox.
I told him about my present status. “Hey, even I am unemployed!” I realized aloud.
We stepped into the nearest restaurant and ordered meals for lunch.
“What about our classmates?” I enquired.
“Many of them are in the Gulf, working as accountants. Most of the others are scattered all over India. Our pals Ashish and Madhu are in Thiruvananthapuram.”
“What’s your plan?”
“I’m also trying to get a job visa to Dubai, the City of Gold.”
Mixing sambar with rice, I thought about his slogan shouting and politics. “Da Subodh, you know what? There’s something sad about Kerala. We have Labour Unions here that are quite hostile. They aim at getting higher wages for lesser work. It puts off anyone trying to establish an industrial unit here. The result is that there are few decent jobs out here.
“Our people are then forced to go abroad for work. But it’s their remittances that keep Kerala’s economy going. So, the upshot is that you have a state, which doesn’t promote industrialization but is entirely dependent on industries abroad for sustenance. And that’s hypocrisy.”
“Hey Abhi!” reacted Subodh, almost yelling. “Are you blaming our political party? We are against these MNCs coming into our place. Okay?” He had suddenly turned unfriendly. Obviously, my remarks had offended him. He didn’t get my point at all. And I had thought dodos were extinct.
“Subodh, I believe there’s space for everyone,” I maintained. “Everyone can have a share of the Kerala consumer market, and that includes MNCs. I’m not blaming any political party. I’m blaming people like you who don’t understand the consequences of your activities.” It was indeed frustrating to witness the sad plight of affairs in our state. But I decided to hold back. There was no use arguing with him. Besides, we were meeting after a long time.
Our college days had been filled with campus politics. There were student wings of various political parties, which were active on campus. Slugfests amongst members of rival parties were common. But at the end of the day, foes would usually turn friends and walk out of college, arms over each other’s shoulders, as a gesture of friendship.
After lunch, Subodh joined his associates who were still in the vicinity of the mall, while I went back to the bookshop.
***
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