On The Shoulders of Giants

And sometimes in their kind shadows

I first met Anandbhai in Delhi in 2010. He was 55 then. I was 22, fresh out of college, and gearing up to make a massive career blunder. My hare-brained venture was built around retailing his products (insoles and the like), so it made sense to pay him a courtesy visit. I cringe when I remember how pompous and self-important I was in that encounter. In my defence, I thought I was going to revolutionize Anandbhai’s industry (the one he’d spent the last thirty years in), and he had no idea what was about to hit him.

I didn’t appreciate it then, but he was able to look past my inexperience, arrogance and utter lack of grace. Instead, he chose to focus on the small kernel of potential he saw in me. He heard me out, appreciating the vision I had, and pointed out right at the outset that I’d need to stock footwear too – something I resisted for nearly a year before finally giving in.

He also expressed, gently, that perhaps I was thinking too small. This was a good first step, but I needed to think broader to fully sweat the infrastructure I was building. Add more products or services under the same roof. Perhaps Walk Well alone was too niche to be self-sustaining. I had reached the same conclusion, but chose to offset one risky, niche business with another equally moonshot one.

It really boggles my mind that I managed to survive as long as I did. What’s that saying? “God watches over children and fools.” And I was both.

Anyway, back to our story. At Anandbhai’s suggestion, I joined him during his annual visit to Arab Health in Dubai in early 2011. This was my first overseas trip, and my first time on my own. Arab Health is the region’s premier healthcare conference, and Anandbhai saw it as a great opportunity for me to get an overall sense of the industry, maybe build some contacts and who knows, even find the perfect brand or product to add to my venture.

Arab Health, 2011.

Unfortunately, I was too inexperienced and cocky for any of that to happen. Fortunately though, over those four days and tens of thousands of steps, Anandbhai allowed me unfettered access to his vast knowledge, though process, and decades of experience. He showed me the value of identifying trends early, being nimble and flexible. Even then, he knew that businesses were entering a new age, where disruption could come out of any corner of the world and wipe out even the most stable, storied ventures.

Anandbhai, being a builder and an innovator at heart, had tried developing multiple products and technologies over the years. Where lesser mortals like me would’ve felt dejected or demoralized with every failed prototype, he saw only learnings to take on to the next innovation. His breadth of knowledge was his superpower, and it gave him a common vocabulary to strike up a conversation with almost anyone at the fair, whether it was a Taiwanese software developer or a Turkish prosthetic manufacturer. He asked intelligent questions, actually listened to the answers, appreciating when a huge technical hurdle had been crossed, and freely volunteering suggestions when it wasn’t. He balanced competence and humility with a sense of humour and curiosity.

That was the thing that stood out to me most – his utter lack of airs, malice or self-importance. He was confident, curious and optimistic. Even numbskull me realized that this was a man to be respected and listened to. Professionally, of course. Especially since our paths were now intertwined. But personally too.

To my great fortune, and for reasons passing understanding, he chose to take me under his wing. We never addressed it formally, but he became my mentor and guide. Someone I could turn to at any time for advice, but more importantly, hope. Of that, he was an endless fount.

Over the next decade, we met multiple times. He visited Bangalore, I met him in Delhi and we even did sales calls together in Hyderabad. Every meeting only reinforced my early impressions. He walked the line between authority and curiosity with such grace and elan. He was cautious in his dealings with people, likely a result of many, many heartbreaks. But he never used that as an excuse to shut people out. In the hundreds of hours of conversations we had, he never once talked down to me.

When my venture failed, he shared my pain. We spoke almost weekly then, which I now realize was him checking in on me. He gave me solace, and the courage to venture out again. And yet, he never rushed me, letting me heal at my pace. He never pontificated, but I know now that he had experienced such gut-wrenching failures dozens of times, never letting them get the better of him.

In the subsequent years, he always kept tabs on my journey, sharing my joy at becoming a father, watching with pride as I ventured into ecommerce. He also used me as a sounding board, constantly pitching new ideas and concepts for feedback. In hindsight, I knew this was his way of keeping me from developing blinders, always looking at the world at large for developments and opportunities.

When COVID struck, I found myself in the privileged position of being able to help him, for once. We were able to bring his products to ecommerce marketplaces, and I was able to share my network and learnings with him. What amazed me was seeing this now 65-year-old learning the intricacies of online selling, the various technical and logistical aspects. He had always been a learning machine, but this was incredible, even for him.

It is a testament to his grace that he convinced me to do the ecommerce bookkeeping for him, insisting that he pay for my time. He never made it feel transactional, instead encouraging me to broaden the scope, offering the service to other sellers too (something I did for a while).

By late 2020, he was a true believer of the power of ecommerce, especially in the post COVID world. We made plans to expand to amazon’s marketplaces globally, which he wanted me to spearhead. I was riding my own lockdown demand surge and supply chain challenges, and kept putting it off to “next month”.

In early 2021 Anandbhai had a stroke and slipped into a coma. He passed on the 25^th of March 2021.

While he was hospitalized, I travelled to Delhi and met his family. His wife told me how much Anandbhai loved and respected me. How he lit up during our conversations. How much he believed in me.

I deeply, deeply regret all the times I couldn’t take his calls. I regret not dropping everything and focusing on our collaboration. I regret not travelling to meet him regularly. But more than that, I regret that in all those hundreds of hours, I never once told him how much I loved him, how much he meant to me.

I am not a spiritual or religious person. It would be hypocrisy for me to say I feel his presence watching over me. I will say though, that a part of him lives on in me. When I hear optimism or curiosity in my inner monologue, it is always in his voice. Whenever I find myself shirking away from a professional challenge, or getting old and rigid in my thinking, I’m reminded of him, with that gently teasing smile.

I’m just grateful that our paths crossed, and by some stroke of luck and generosity he took me under his wing. My life has been vastly, vastly better for it.

For Anandbhai.