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  westland ltd

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  After finishing his schooling at Modern School, Barakhamba Road, and his undergraduation at Hindu College, Delhi, Mainak Dhar graduated from the Indian Institute of Management, Ahmedabad. He has spent two decades in the corporate sector, starting with Procter & Gamble in India. He spent eighteen years with P&G, fifteen of them outside India across the Asia Pacific region. In 2014, he moved back to India as the CEO of the India operations of a major consumer products multinational.

  A self-described cubicle dweller by day and writer by night, Mainak is also the author of over a dozen books, some of which have been bestsellers in India and abroad. These books have been translated into Turkish, Vietnamese, Japanese, French, German and Portuguese. He lives in Mumbai with his wife, Puja, and their son, Aaditya. When not at work or with his family, he can usually be found working on, or thinking about his next book. Learn more about him and contact him at www.facebook.com/AuthorMainakDhar.

  westland ltd

  61, II Floor, Silverline Building, Alapakkam Main Road, Maduravoyal, Chennai 600095

  93, I Floor, Sham Lal Road, Daryaganj, New Delhi 110002

  First ebook edition: 2016

  Copyright © Mainak Dhar 2016

  All rights reserved

  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  ISBN: 978-93-86036-26-1

  The author asserts his moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

  This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out, circulated, and no reproduction in any form, in whole or in part (except for brief quotations in critical articles or reviews) may be made without written permission of the publishers.

  As always, for Puja & Aaditya

  Whoever fights monsters should see to it that in the process he does not become a monster. And if you gaze long enough into an abyss, the abyss will gaze back into you.

  —Friedrich Nietzsche

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Epilogue

  ONE

  ‘You’re going to need a new business card.’

  That was how my boss, Dhruv Batra, announced to me that I was finally getting promoted. He handed over one of my business cards and I saw that he had crossed out my title and replaced it with a new one he had scrawled in his barely legible handwriting.

  Vice President

  Later that evening, just before we headed out for the celebrations, Dhruv leaned across his table and handed me a box of my new business cards.

  ‘You’re the boss now, Aadi. Well done.’

  I looked at the card I held in my hands. At my embossed name and the new title below it.

  I had been with Excel Ventures for eight years, ever since I graduated from business school, talked into it by Dhruv, who had been an alumnus. Dhruv had held forth with me on how private equity was the future, about how I could really shine without having to crawl up a conventional corporate ladder. It had been a long journey, and I had dreamed of this day for many years, and now, finally, it was mine. I sat back in my chair and exhaled gently.

  I watched Dhruv as he headed back to his cabin. He was leaving for another job, which he had not yet revealed to us, but it had been announced the usual way, that he had decided to ‘pursue alternate interests’. I was pretty sure I could get him to tell me all about his new job over drinks. I saw him packing up his things in his cabin—the cabin that was going to be mine when I stepped into office on Monday morning.

  ‘Dude, it’s a Saturday and you’re the boss now. We would never have come into office today if it hadn’t been to close the Ventura deal. The only reason we weren’t grumbling about coming into office today was that we heard from the grapevine that you would get announced today. So, can we head out for a drink now?’

  I looked up to see Kartik, who had joined a couple of years after me. He never needed more than the slightest of excuses to grab a drink, but four in the evening was pushing it even by his standards. Of course, this time my promotion was the excuse.

  ‘My promotion is not effective till Monday. See you at six.’

  ‘You are a crusher of souls and a depriver of drink.’

  With that dramatic pronouncement, Kartik slunk back to his cubicle and I, crusher of souls and newly promoted VP, got up to get some printouts I had just fired. Stella, Dhruv’s secretary was there, and she handed me a sheaf of papers as I approached the communal printer.

  ‘Here you go, Boss.’

  What was it with everyone calling me ‘boss’?

  ‘Stella, come on. Don’t you get started with this “boss” business, please.’

  She smiled and said, ‘Aadi, I am so happy to see you get this job. I know how hard you worked for it. Now you should find a nice girl, settle down and get on with the rest of your life.’

  Stella had been with the firm for close to twenty years, and had a son who was probably just a few years younger than me. Ever since I joined, we had become friends, regular members of a lunch group whose primary purpose had been to take a break from the manic tempo of work to catch up on gossip and bitch about the boss.

  Would they bitch about me now?

  I walked back to my cubicle and began to go through the slides I had printed out, making notations on the edges. Once one of my college friends had talked about how one needed some balance in life and how he appreciated it now that he was married and had a young kid. I didn’t get it then, and I didn’t get it now. Sure, at an abstract level, I supposed I would one day get married, but that was in the distant future somewhere. I was perfectly happy with my life, and with the balance I had. Work was not drudgery or something that kept me from other things in my life. It was an important part of my life, something that allowed me to use all the skills and education I had, and something that gave me a sense of achievement.

  As I walked to the bathroom to freshen up before I packed up, I took a look in the mirror. At the age of thirty, I was perhaps a bit heavier than I had been when I passed out of campus eight years ago, but not by much. The hair was still all there, an unruly mop which I used to try and make behave but long given up on. I had put on only an inch around my waist, and was secretly proud that all my old jeans still fit. That came from working out every morning in the gym and keeping up my karate practice twice a week. I went to the local club to practice and help the sensei with teaching young kids. I did not stay in shape for vanity, not even for fitness, but perhaps to remind myself of what I had once been.

  A reminder of that life was buzzing in my pocket. I took out my phone to see that it was my father calling. I had sent him a text message telling him about my promotion, promising him that I would call in the evening to chat in more detail.

  ‘Congratulations, young man.’

  His gravelly voice boomed across the phone line, his habit of raising his volume several notches when on the phone still very much there.

  ‘Thank you, Baba.’

  ‘Your Ma would have been so happy to see this day. Heading up the Mumbai office, reporting directly to the CEO. Well done.’

  ‘Thanks. How have you been?’

  I could hear him chuckle.

  ‘Still trying to keep myself busy and useful. Now that you’ve got that title you wanted so badly, listen
to me and indulge a lonely old man in one last project of his. Get married and then I can die a happy man.’

  It was never too far from the surface, and it was now out there. The not-so-subtle emotional blackmail, reminding me that, as my father saw things, I still had not fulfilled one of my key duties as a son. That he was all alone after my mother had passed away four years ago, and that my not getting married was the one thing holding him back from feeling that he had done his duty. We’d had more than our share of arguments on the topic, but today was not a day I wanted to argue, so I just told him that we’d chat about it later.

  ‘When will you be in Delhi?’

  ‘Baba, the CEO is in Gurgaon, so I suppose I’ll be there soon enough once I take charge of the office here. I’ll let you know and we’ll celebrate together.’

  I hung up and then packed my things to see that Kartik was well ahead of me.

  ‘Ready, Boss?’

  I nodded. ‘Let’s get you that party you wanted so badly.’

  We drove from the Bandra Kurla Complex, where our office was, to Powai in my car. It could take up to forty-five minutes in traffic, but it was worth it. Hiranandani Gardens in Powai, where I lived, was the closest thing in the otherwise congested city of Mumbai to a township. We had broad streets, shopping and restaurants within the society, and far better centralized security than you could get in most other parts of Mumbai. The prospect of jogging on the broad sidewalks or in the many parks inside the complex, instead of inhaling traffic fumes and dodging traffic as I would have had to do otherwise, had been the clincher when I chose where to stay. I’d moved there four years ago, upgrading from a smaller flat in Ghatkopar when I could afford the rents in Powai.

  I knew we would likely have a big night and I decided to park my car at my apartment before heading out. I would get an auto-rickshaw back, and Kartik was planning to get a lift home from one of the others. As I parked the car, I decided to leave my bag in my apartment.

  ‘Kartik, come up for a sec. I’ll drop my bag and you can get an early start with a beer before we get to Chili’s.’

  I opened the door to my apartment, and Kartik was in the door before me, heading straight for the fridge. He took out a beer and was already halfway through it by the time I had dumped my bag in the bedroom.

  ‘Dude, you’ve got an awesome view from here.’

  Kartik was looking out the living room windows at the Powai Lake spread out in the distance. He stepped out into the small balcony and whistled.

  ‘Dude, you can see the airport so clearly from here. I just saw a flight taking off. What a frigging cool view!’

  ‘That’s the major reason I chose this building. Most of the other good apartments here are way too big for my needs, not to mention too bloody expensive. This is just the right size and has a great view.’

  ‘Will you move to a new place now? I heard VPs get more than double the bonus of directors.’

  He was fishing and I just smiled and looked away. As usual, the office gossip was quite accurate when it came to compensation.

  ‘Nah, I like it here.’

  What I didn’t tell him was that I already had other plans for what I wanted to buy. My Camry had served me very well, but with the bonus which was to come in a couple of months, I planned to book a Mercedes C class. I did not normally splurge on too many things, and my lifestyle could hardly be called flashy, but cars were my one weak spot and I thought I would indulge myself this one time.

  Ten minutes later, we were on our way to join our colleagues. Stella and three others were already there, and Dhruv joined us within a few minutes, followed by a procession of people, which made it apparent that I was likely to run up a pretty hefty credit card bill.

  Dhruv was the one to propose the first of what would turn out to be way too many toasts that night.

  ‘Let’s all raise a drink to the new boss!’

  We all downed our beers and then refilled for another toast, which I made in Dhruv’s honour.

  ‘And now let’s drink to the one who will always be the boss.’

  And so on it went, drink after drink, toast after toast, till I’m pretty sure we were repeating toasts, but nobody cared anymore. Kartik was already fairly drunk and was leaning closer and closer to one of the young interns, trying to look charming, but appearing only hopelessly inebriated. At least she didn’t seem to mind too much, since she was perhaps only one or two glasses behind Kartik and rapidly headed towards drunken stupor herself. They’d both had enough to drink for Kartik to think he was being witty and for her to believe he was witty and not just plain drunk. I guess many relationships have started for worse reasons than that.

  After a couple of hours, people seemed to have given up on the idea of moving someplace else for dinner. Another round of drinks was ordered, and some more snacks. Dhruv had been sitting at the far end of the table and he beckoned to me as he lit a cigarette and walked outside.

  ‘You must be feeling on top of the world,’ he said when I joined him.

  I just smiled. He was slurring slightly and was more drunk than I had ever seen him in all the years I’d known him.

  ‘Aadi, do you know why I was asked to leave?’

  I was stunned by the question. I’d assumed Dhruv had got some better offer, and that was why he was leaving. He had always been a rock star, the one we had looked up to; the one we were sure would one day get a shot at being CEO. It hit me like a sledgehammer to hear that he had been asked to go. I had no idea how to react so I just stared at him as he continued.

  ‘Look, you’ve earned this and you have every right to feel very proud, and I hope and know you’ll do well. Just remember one thing, will you?’

  He leaned closer as if he were going to share some secret.

  ‘Just don’t get as sucked into those spreadsheets and slides as I did.’

  I had no idea what he was talking about, and I held out a hand to steady him in case he lost his balance. Dhruv shook off my hand, looking slightly offended.

  ‘I’m okay. I’m okay.’

  He took a long drag of his cigarette before continuing.

  ‘It struck me for the first time a few months ago, perhaps way too late, but as they say, better late than never. What do we actually do? We invest money in ventures, give advice, take decisions—all to generate profits, increase valuation and one day either pitch them for an M&A deal or get them to an IPO. We don’t make anything or do anything that actually means something to anyone. Our lives essentially revolve around numbers on a spreadsheet. If those numbers are good, we prosper, and if they’re bad, we suffer.’

  Another drag and he continued.

  ‘All those anniversaries and birthdays missed for a spreadsheet, because when the job’s gone, that’s all it really was, wasn’t it? And all those titles we chased for years, all worth nothing more than the bloody cards they were printed on. Sometimes I wonder what really matters and whether we’ve lost touch with it in chasing our careers.’

  With that, he stumbled back inside, leaving me there, wondering what had got into him. Thankfully, Kartik was the next one out, and he immediately lightened the mood by screaming at the top of his voice: ‘Tequila shots!’

  It was well after midnight when I got home. I was never a very heavy drinker and so was nowhere as wasted as the others, but the three (or was it four; clearly my assessment of my drunkenness was on the optimistic side) shots that Kartik had forced me to have had certainly taken their toll. The guard at the building gave me a look which told me he was both bemused at seeing me stumble home drunk, and also envious at others having much more fun than he was, sitting in his little cabin or on a rickety chair by the gate all day, every day.

  The night had been a great one, but Dhruv’s outburst had bothered me. I made a mental note to catch up with him for coffee sometime and, in the sober light of day, figure out what was on his mind. Dhruv had started out as a senior and a boss, but, over time, had become one of my closest friends. I’d never told him this,
but he was the person I’d aspired to be ever since I began working for him. In many ways, he was my role model, and to see him so bitter had rankled.

  I collapsed on the sofa with a bottle of cold water and finished it in a few, long drags. I lay there for a while and then got up to turn off the lights in the study. As I entered the room, I saw the old box in the corner where it had been ever since I’d moved into this apartment. I had not opened it for years, but today something made me tear open the tape that held it shut.

  Inside lay dust-covered reminders of a life I had long left behind. Medals, trophies, certificates. I had been what my coaches at school and college had called a ‘natural athlete’. I didn’t know about that, but what I did know is that I loved playing every sport I got a chance to try my hand at. I was on the track team, I was on the cricket team, I played tennis and I learned karate for years, ending up with a black belt by the time I was seventeen. My coach in college kept telling me to try for the big league in cricket. He thought I could make it to the Indian team if I just tried hard enough and stuck at it. He even went as far as to get forms for an academy that groomed fast bowlers.

  When you’re seventeen and someone shows you dreams like that, it’s hard not to get seduced.

  Along the way, I also got really interested in the military, read up all about it, and began to dream of joining the Army. This was perhaps natural: both my uncle and grandfather had been in the Army. So, in addition to sports, I joined the National Cadet Corps back in school and stuck with it till college. The dusty box held several medals and certificates from my time as a cadet as well. When I was contemplating what to do after school, those were my two options: pursuing sports as a career, or joining the Army. I was leaning towards the latter, especially when I learned that a career in the Army meant a lot of opportunities to continue pursuing sports; that it was actually encouraged, as shown by the many Olympic athletes who came from a military background.