Open Page

Through failures and successes

My grandfather was a buccaneer of an entrepreneur. People often cautioned him to temper the scale of his risk-taking and the expansiveness of his ambition. His pithy response to those concerns were that he came to Bombay from Kumbakonam wearing a dhoti and if required he would return to Kumbakonam in a dhoti. Inspiring fearlessness faces adversity far more elegantly than a failed risk assessment.

The fear that binds us to wealth is the uncertainty of its true role in our lives. Money buys food and security. It need not buy love, confidence and inspiration. Although we often allow it to. Hence the uncertainty.

Work was the hunt that fulfilled my grandfather’s spirit. Money was a collateral result, which had to be distributed. Our home had a regular stream of villagers from the south, seeking financial assistance to repair their homes or for the marriage of their children. Nobody left empty handed.

In the 1980s, political sanctions on Libya and the Iran-Iraq war initiated a cascade of events that led to the company he founded going bust. The stream of visitors thinned out, but continued. When cash ran out he would give them my grandmother’s jewellery. He never opened a fixed deposit in his name. He was not a man for half-measures.

As our debt pangs grew we prioritised our spending. Our landline phone remained cut for almost a year. When it rang back to life I would spend a few ecstatic minutes jumping with joy. Our living room ceiling had begun to peel. Sometimes chips would slip off and land on the carpet with a muted thud and a puff of white dust. When it happened in the middle of a conversation with guests, we would discuss our ceiling. It had turned into a mosaic of white plaster and grey cement. A proposal to re-plaster and paint it was rejected. My father said we had to wait until he could begin settling his debts. As a compromise we agreed to scrape all the plaster off and lived with a grey cement ceiling much before the Good Earth Store made it hip. His earnestness inspired us and gave a noble purpose to the state of our ceiling.

We sold our sprawling south Bombay apartment and moved into a small rented flat in Baroda. It was on the fourth floor in a non-descript building without lifts. He was in his mid-50s. He spent the first 20 years of his working life building his father’s firm into one of the rare Indian contenders in the global oil and gas industry. He spent the next 10 years working to contain its spectacular implosion and the last five years of his life rebuilding it from scratch. But I never heard a word of angst from him.

The climb up four stories enabled him to exercise and remain fit, he would tell me. We sat on the floor to eat dinner and he appreciated the fresh food my mother served. Music played in the background of our evening conversations. He worked with the quiet resolve required to travel through the landscapes of failure.

Resurrecting a company from the brink without cash magnifies every minor problem into a crisis. But calmness was my father’s currency. Every time we were hit by a wave of bad news, the normality in his responses would make my fears evaporate. If he is so relaxed, it can’t be that bad.

The simplicity, contentment, patience and courage with which my parents and grandparents navigated through the throes of uncertainty allayed my confusion and rebuilt my faith.

Money cannot buy love, confidence and inspiration – these can come only from within. Money can buy an elegantly plastered and painted ceiling, but for that I can wait as long as I need to, if I have to.

This article is closed for comments.
Please Email the Editor

Printable version | Mar 2, 2021 11:11:09 AM |

Next Story