To everyone who has erred

Kisa Gautami was a young woman. When her one-year-old son fell ill and died, Kisa was struck with grief. Weeping, she went to the Buddha.

Buddha said, ‘Kisa Gautami, go and find me four or five mustard seeds from any family in which there has never been a death and I will bring back your son.’

Kisa was filled with hope. But soon she discovered that each family she visited had experienced the death of one person or another.

She slowly realized that death comes to all.

Like death, mistakes too come to all of us.

Author’s Note

‘It is good to learn from your mistakes. It is better to learn from other people’s mistakes.’

—Warren Buffett

Success is celebrated; failure is overlooked. There is fame when one succeeds; failure is shamed. While stories of success attract, those of failures are expunged. Success underlines what should be done; failure underscores what should not be done.

My story is not of success but of failure.

I started a business and launched a truly Indian sports brand D:FY – shoes, apparel and accessories, much like Nike – that failed.

My business lost Rs 30 crore (USD 4m) in 30 months, virtually wiping out all that I had earned for nearly 30 years.

I failed not because I did not possess the necessary vision, determination and courage; I failed because the number of errors in my business exceeded the positives.

Initially one wallowed on the world ‘conspiring’ against my business, that circumstances had been unfair in not encouraging a truly Indian sports brand to succeed.

After the noise had subsided, what remained were facts. I began to think: What if one had done things differently? What if one had listened to what data was telling us? What if we had not done … What if … What if …

It was not one monumental error that had sunk the ship; it was a sequence of under-addressed leaks – not planning to fail as much as failing to plan – that had been our undoing.

One could weep over the fuselage or decode the black box.

When one did select to decode, new possibilities emerged: What if these mistakes could be documented? What if my failure could benefit others? And what if – and here it got interesting – this analysis could initiate a dialogue on mistakes?

I started to look for people who had no inhibitions in sharing their mistakes.

My research on ‘mistakes’ furthered my conviction. There is not much written on either the importance of sharing your mistake or on being wrong. I chanced upon a book: Being Wrong: Adventures in the Margin of Error by Katheryn Schultz. It provided insights on why. Error study practitioners are a motley crew (Schultz, 2011).

This is why: we are social beings; mistakes are associated with shame, ignorance, indolence and worse, moral degeneracy. Mistakes are associated with deficiencies, rightness with righteousness. When we make mistakes, we deny, defend, ignore and blame them on someone else. As a culture we have not developed tools for accepting our mistake.

There is no ‘I was wrong.’ It is always ‘I was wrong, but …’

We are mistaken about what it means to make a mistake. Meta-mistaken. Our brain receives 400 billion bits of information every second. It filters the important ones and stores them for prospective access. The brain’s principal function is to eliminate the unimportant. It then tags experiences and stores them into long-term memory. What it does not seek to remember it stores in inaccessible files. Mistakes, accepting mistakes and sharing mistakes are stored in the inaccessible folder. Our capacity to forget mistakes takes precedence over remembering them. Mistakes are an ultimate inside job.

This is where this book is different. I chose to make it accessible.

We step in shit all the time. Shit happens. Stepping in shit is inevitable. Either see it as good luck or figure out how to do it less often. Same with mistakes. It has the potential to do good. For better or for worse, making mistakes is a companion. I have decided to talk about this friend. During the lockdown, I came to realize that there is no experience of making a mistake. There is an experience of realizing that I made mistakes. Mistakes are always past tense and that is the beauty. It is never that I am wrong; it is always that I was wrong.

Mistakes help us see things differently. However, we have to see mistakes differently first.

Hence, this book.

I remember a quote in the conference room at the office of the prominent investor Rakesh Jhunjhunwala (with whom I worked) that read, ‘Good judgement comes from experience. Experience comes from bad judgement.’ I believe the truth is only offensive when we are lying.

This is my truth. Honest. Naked.

My Life: A Stock Price

I invest in equities. I am obsessed with the stock market. I spent twenty-five years decoding stock price movements. Sometimes they made sense, sometimes not. Yet, when you zoom out of a stock price chart, it always makes sense. I developed a way to connect life to stocks. On one such instance, Kishore Biyani (Kishore ji to all who worked with him, including me) told me that life is a lot beyond the stock market and needed to be viewed through a different lens.

Little did I realize then that my life resembled a stock price.

Everyone’s, actually.

If you start plotting your life from childhood, you will see a life graph emerge like a stock price. When studied dispassionately, it tells a story.

The X-axis is my age, the Y-axis is my wealth

A mere glance at the graph tells you a story. Age span 34–47 represents the ‘eventful’ phase of my life. The larger part of my life looks like a flat and dead line. However, if you zoom in (like in Google maps), you will observe that my life was a flat line till I was 20 before it commenced its upward journey. I lost my father when I was seven; there was no family wealth accretion until I began earning. The flat line too has a story to it, not wealth-wise but character-wise. You will read about this in the first part of the book.

The Desire (1–31 Years)

At 20, little did I realize that my life had entered a structural bull market. It began when I resolved on two things: (1) my decision to become a chartered accountant and (2) my decision to seek a career in the stock markets. I experienced a part of this in Kolkata where I spent my childhood and teens, and then I moved to Mumbai, where the action widened and accelerated.

Mumbai transformed the direction of my life graph (and wealth graph). It also transformed me as a person. From Rs 3 lakh in my bank account when I landed in Mumbai on 15 May 2003, my ‘share price’ increased 800x over the next ten years. Eight hundred. I was living ‘the’ dream. You will read about this in part two of the book.

The Dream (31–44 Years)

Wealth-wise, the years 31–44 were my best. They transformed me. For the worse.

I began using income, wealth and a professional career as the only metrics to measure my success. Most people feel happy, content, and thank life when it generates an 800x return in just 11 years. I felt hungrier. I wanted my life’s share price to strengthen further. ‘Why can I not go 10x from here?’ I sought to fly higher. Faster. Farther. Took an outsized bet and lost it all. What had taken me 44 years to aggregate was dissipated in 36 months.

The first part of this journey was a lot of hard work and determination.

The Determination (18 Months)

As I set myself for my biggest bull run, I encountered a wall. And after that … all the king’s horses and all the king’s men couldn’t put Humpty together again. I explain this in the last part of
the book.

The Defeat

Buckle up.

Here we go!

Apologies (Not Acknowledgements)

A book on mistake(s) needs to begin
with an apology …

To Kaavya, Arshia and Nishi (daughters and niece), my everything; the name of my company KAN DFY Sports Private Limited was drawn from the first letter of their names; I nursed a dream that when my company listed on the stock exchange, they would be invited to ring the opening bell.

Mila (wife) for supporting a business idea that failed (the mood swings came as an undesired bonus).

Ketan (brother) and Kishori (mother) who supported me and bore the brunt of a significant savings depletion.

Bharat (late father) whose name I desired to bring back into the consciousness of those who had once known him.

Aalok (late and lamented) and Mini, my closest friends, who welcomed me to Mumbai and helped me make it my home.

Run-Fam, my ‘family’ of running friends who were the guinea pigs on whom my products were tested.

Rajiv Mehta (my business partner) and his family, who lost a fair amount on the venture.

Anil Kumble for my failure in not making a ‘jumbo’ success of the venture.

Hardik and Krunal Pandya for the business not living up to their expectations.

Utpal Sheth, Hiren Ved, Ashish Ranwala and Kavish Shah, who invested precious capital in solidarity and lost.

Ritesh Sidhwani and Farhan Akhtar, who backed our passion.

Team D:FY for abruptly shutting down the retail business.

Justin and Jim from Brooks Sports Inc. as well as Laurent Antonio and Paul Giles from New Era (UK) for not doing justice to their brands in India.

Every customer who bought from us.

India for not being able to create a truly home-grown sports brand.

THE DESIRE
(1–31 YEARS)

1

Childhood

Honhaar birwaan ke hoth chikne paat

Dhanbad.

That part of Bihar where coal miners prospered. That part of India that inspired the Bollywood film Gangs of Wasseypur. That part of Bihar we generally referred to as the ‘muscle’ of Bihar.

I came into the world in this industrial dot on 7 January 1972 when incidentally, I was to learn later, Tony Lewis’ MCC team was touring India and had just completed a Test match at Calcutta where it had been beaten by Ajit Wadekar’s India.

How we got to Dhanbad is a story in itself. My father had been dispatched to Dhanbad to set up Bank of India’s Jharia branch. What should have been a punishment posting was transformed by my father into an opportunity. The branch that he launched generated the highest fixed deposits across any BOI branch in India. Some at the bank’s headquarters probably asked at a senior meeting ‘Why are we wasting Bharat Desai in the backwaters?’

The result was that the Desais – including their just-born – were soon taking the train back to Calcutta. The name ‘Bharat Desai’ began to figure with increased frequency in the Board meetings of the nationalized bank in Bombay (now Mumbai). In three years, the bank took an unusual decision: it would go international with its maiden branch in London. And who should they select to launch the bank? None other than the man with the golden touch who had proved his credentials in Jharia.

That then is the surprising story of my father: the man had refused a role in the family tea business to seek a job, inviting curious questions of ‘Pottano dhandho muki ne naukri? Aa shu …’ (Leaving one’s own business for a salaried employment — what is this?) This time when he was on the verge of the biggest break of his career, my father surprised again; he turned down the offer to go to London.

The family was aghast; what it did not quite know was that my father nursed a heart condition, which was validated during the medical tests he was required to undergo before moving to London. Thereafter, it was professionally downhill; there was no cure for his heart condition in the 1970s; he lived weeks out of hospitals in Mumbai; he underwent two twelve-hour heart surgeries, and when he prepared for the third in May 1979, he turned to sporting analogy. ‘I have come to Mumbai to play the third and final set of my tennis match. If I win this set, I will win the match and tournament.’

Dad never got to the match.

A couple of days prior to the surgery, I was smuggled into a Mumbai Fiat taxi that did all the familiar roads that gave me an inkling that it was headed for Bombay Hospital.

When I reached, the family was clutching to their handkerchiefs and hugging each other. Something big had transpired.

My father had passed away. Just thirty-six.

I was seven.

Poverty and Ambition

The Desais – we – were a fatherless three-member unit squeezed between three large ‘families’.

My father’s kutumb (family) comprised five brothers and three sisters. My grandmother was the matriarch – disciplined, loving, religious, well-read, industrious and strong on Jain values. In the absence of my grandfather, she was the family glue.

My mother’s family comprised six brothers and four sisters. Her family had the largest tea business in India, and my maternal grandfather was regarded among the most respected tea tasters in India. The family was wealthy; it enjoyed respect, status and legacy wealth.

The third ‘family’ was the one we lived with in our multi-storey Neelkamal building in Kolkata comprising affluent businesspeople.

If there was one thing that set us apart from these three clusters, it was economic. After my father passed away, there was not much cash left to go around. The principal earning member had gone; what he had left – after meeting medical bills – was not substantial. We were like the family that is four wickets down in the second innings by lunch on the fourth day and needing to bat a day and a half to save the Test.

The result is whenever we engaged with the three families, things would always be civil at the engagement level. But there would come a moment in our engagement when the economic disparity would become apparent. Starkly.

We lived a hand-to-mouth existence on the interest income generated on the meagre savings left by my father; most others had prosperous businesses.

Each time the players on our team would order a dosa on the playground – a status symbol – I would turn to my tiffin that my mother had packed.

Each time the players turned to Thums Up (‘Thoda aur baraf dena [Add some ice]’) I would turn to nimbu paani (lemonade).

When friends offered a dosa or moori (puffed rice snack), one would politely refuse on the grounds that, ‘Yaar, abhi batting karna baaki hai (Buddy, I still have to bat),’ whereas the real reason was that one knew that one would not be able to reciprocate.

At Diwali, neighbours burst a large quantum of firecrackers; my brother and I would make do with a palm-sized quantity and prefer to watch others burst instead.

At Diwali, when we went to the larger family’s celebration, we would see relatives in their silks and finery; we would get two pairs of clothes that needed to last the year.

When we got older, our cousins graduated to restaurants, vacations and new clothes brought right through the year, and the ‘difference’ became increasingly apparent.

This difference was etched into my consciousness with precise words: ‘They are rich. We are poor.’

The one daily occurrence in our lives was a recognition of how ‘poor’ we actually were. For one, we didn’t have adequate money. More than that, we didn’t have a father. I reconciled to not having a father for the rest of my life by the time I was in class VI and that he was not going to pop up one day in our lives; however, what I could not come to terms with was not having enough money. It was an insecurity that was to stay well into middle age. This low self-esteem would have an interesting fallout: whenever I was taken out for a meal by my one of my uncles, I would eat excessively – and be compelled to vomit by the time I reached home.

As we ended our teens, the struggle and strife of the childhood years would have a bearing on our personalities: my brother – who incidentally has played cricket at a high club level – was content with whatever he got. He interned at the family tea business, learning the fine art of tea-tasting and went on to have a chequered career in the tea sector. I was ambitious; I wanted to come out of the shadows; I was willing to assume risks.

I decided to take the road less travelled.

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Reflections

What could I have done differently?

‘You make mistakes. Mistakes don’t make you.’

Distance does not only lend enchantment to the view; it also enhances objectivity.

This realization came a few months after we had closed for business when I did a review of how we could have adapted in time to save the business and stayed in the game longer without necessarily breaking even but acquiring deeper insights to plug the cash drain before turning around.

Wisdom after the event is scarcely useful, except that in this case, it has made me a mellower person with a larger appetite for dissenting perspectives, wider risk understanding and larger openness to the suddenness of change outside one’s control. 

D:FY depleted me as a financial entity; on the other hand, it transformed me as a person for the better.

These are some of the things that I should have done differently.

1 

Wealth creation should have been a by-product and not the core purpose.

As I grew older, little did I realize that the demons I had nursed through my childhood would begin to assert their independence. The result is that I did not just develop a desire to make more money (who doesn’t?); it was the intensity of that obsession that had become the difference. There was a point when the value of my personal net worth had become the only score by which I was willing to measure my existence. I became the batsman who after getting to fifty now wanted to get to 200 (forget 100) and after getting to a double century wanted to get to 500.

I lost sight of why I was batting in the first place – for my team and for the pleasure of putting bat to ball. The sole purpose of why one was doing what one was doing was lost in the brat race: the evangelist in me was displaced by the capitalist. The original desire of creating a fitter India had been elbowed off-stage by the prospect of getting rich enough fast enough.

The word ‘purpose’ should have been defined and embraced. For instance, if someone had asked me whether I would have liked to have had 100 people at my funeral (the Stephen Covey yardstick of life impact appraisal) to be in awe of the personal wealth I had created or have 2,000 people regretting my passing away and in debt for the way I had transformed their lives, the answer would have been simple. The Rs 200 crore of personal wealth that I desired could have been a mission and goal; it could never have been the singular purpose of my existence (which it became). 

A focus on creating a healthier and fitter idea could have kept me in business longer; and somewhere on that multi-year journey, our business would have grown to a point where my personal shareholding would have been worth Rs 200 crore. This lack of clarity on the difference between vision (cannot be achieved) and mission (roadmap) led to the downfall of my company and my net worth. 

2 

I participated in a bull market of arrogance.

I recognized the importance of harmony the more expensive way.

Look at it this way: I started my professional life with no confidence. I felt everyone was better (or at least better-placed) than I was. They would do better in life than I would; they would make more money than I would; they would be respected more by the world than I would.

What transpired was that following my first experience of academic success at twenty-three, there was a hockey stick turn in my confidence. Every stage of improvement, growth and promotion seeded a new idea: I was going to win. Each time I compared myself with others, I realized I was quicker and better. Each professional move and incremental risk I took turned out more successful.

The ultimate high transpired at FT, the company where I was employed, where even as it was passing through its most critical challenge, I experienced the biggest achievement of my career – promotion to MD and CEO. This was like a stock trebling even as the broad market was crashing. This validated my conviction: I was a non-cyclical stock in an unpredictable world.

It was not likely for someone with my credentials to turn defensive at that point. What would I have told myself? That I would remain CEO and MD for the rest of my life? That I would never make more money than I had at FT? Was I an astrologer to have imposed caution to myself? Since I had grown rapidly, it was only reasonable to assume that the momentum would sustain. I wasn’t being recklessly optimistic in assuming this; anyone in my position would have made such an estimation of my prospects. 

So, if I did select to graduate to the next level of respect, achievement and wealth, it was only logical. I was fortunate to have discovered a vehicle for this transformation: sneakers. I liked the subject. I was reasonably acquainted with users and I was lucky to have found a gateway in Alibaba.com and the Canton Fair. There was more to come: validation from whomever I spoke to about the quality of what I was intending to produce and market. Rajiv Mehta said ‘great’ and came in as partner. Anil Kumble said ‘winner’ and offered to come in as shareholder. How could one have become defensive from that point onwards? 

However, the validation of all those I showed the sneakers to contributed to my undoing in an indirect way. They gave me confidence and validation; I could have transformed that feedback into a sense of confidence; I transformed it into a body of ego. I did not merely convince myself that the shoes would sell; I convinced myself that the shoes had ‘already been sold’ and that the proceeds were just lying in a corner for me to go and collect. 

My ego was the size of the nation’s debt. There were people who dissented politely – politely because they did not wish to discourage the entrepreneur in me – but the wine of my arrogance poured over their gentle apprehensions. The Father of Modern Indian Retail advised me to re-appraise my business model with words like ‘Ek baar soch lo’ (Think once again), and I said to myself, ‘What does he know?’ 

Sanjiv Agrawal (ex-MD, Skechers) asked me to visit more retail stores to understand reality and return with my observations for him and I to examine. I never went back to him again. (‘Who wants to hear negative bhaashan [lecture]?’)

Santosh Desai (Future Brands) said there was no shortage of imported sneakers available around Rs 3,000 and that a market did not quite exist. I dismissed his observation as bookish and academic.

Utpal Sheth (Rakesh Jhunjhunwala’s partner) told me that the business model was high-risk and would trip at the first hiccup; I proceeded regardless.

I worked hard, did not compromise on the product and should have – by a conventional yardstick – succeeded. I failed because I refused to listen: when my questions did not conform to the answers I expected to hear, I shot the messenger.

I was a victim of the need for confirmation bias.

3 

The high risk, high reward game got me. 

Everyone champions the cause of risk-taking. What few champion is the cause of prudent risk-taking.

I couldn’t see the risks in the business. (How difficult could it be to sell 34,000 pairs of shoes in six months in a country of 1.35 billion?) The result is I bet big.

In retrospect, I miscalculated on some fronts: I was surrounded with colleagues of a similar disposition; the D:FY ecosystem did not possess a single individual who possessed the intellect or courage to offer a contrary opinion. We were like a group of fund managers who not only believed in a bull market; we believed stocks would rise in every trading session.

Looking back, we should have reduced the bet in four places.

One, when Rajiv entered the partnership with his equity infusion, one should have retained the size of the bet and locked away his contribution into our reserves (we ended up betting with it).

Two, when Utpal Sheth cautioned against opening a number of D:FY stores and retail through partners like Central and Shoppers Stop, it should have been a good idea to grow the business while retaining our asset-lightness.

Three, when venture capitalists expressed an investment interest in D:FY, one should have pursued the subject. This would have moderated the promoter’s risk in the venture; it would have tested my hypothesis of the market opportunity through some smaller lots of off-the-shelf shoes and apparel from China; it would have infused an independent perspective in our business model from the inside.

Four, one should have commenced the venture with a complement of online retail, departmental stores and a couple of D:FY exclusive stores (course-correcting all the time in line with consumer traction). The business would then have commenced with low risk and perhaps stayed that way even as the overall business got larger. 

The reality, in cricket terminology, was that we did not know where our off stump was. The result is that we were bowled by an in-swinger.

4 

We should have mobilized capital early on. 

In my previous avatar as an investor, I asked entrepreneurs: ‘If your story is so good, why don’t you sell your property and put all your cash into the business?’ 

In my mind, the proposition was simple: if the business is good, bet your house on it; if not, exit. This was a binary approach: all or nothing, black or white, 0 or 1. There was no middle ground. Besides, if the promoter was not putting 100 per cent of his or her capital into the business, what moral right did he/she have to ask others to invest?

This represented my rationale for not diluting equity. However, what I did not consider was that venture capitalists and private equity investors exist for a larger reason than most care to appreciate: they do not just proffer cash to share the upside; they engage to share the risk as well (for which they are compensated when the business turns successful).

If I resisted the temptation to dilute our promoter stake through an infusion of venture capital, it was for two reasons. One, I selected to put my cash on the business before asking others. Two, I did not wish to invite others (and dilute our promoter stake) only to repent when the business became prosperous.

In retrospect, the induction of an external independent non-executive investor would have created the role for a neutral umpire and broad-based the funding pipeline.

The lesson as it turned out: promoters need skin in the game, but not the entire skin. 

5 

I did not know my customer. 

One of the earliest lessons I learnt at Future Group: ‘You are not your customer.’

This lesson I dismissed when I started D:FY. I assumed what worked for me would also work for my customers.

I felt the customer would be discerning enough to ignore the price and focus on value. I was comprehensively wrong.

I thought the consumer would buy into the concept of an Indian brand with pride. I was wrong.

I thought my running friends represented my consumers. I was wrong.

I thought my consumers would use my product when exercising. I was wrong.

Kishore Biyani was the first to flag this alert when he saw the way my advertisement had been designed by Grey Worldwide. He said: ‘People in India don’t wear Skechers and Nike while they are exercising. They wear these shoes because they are comfortable and easy on their knees.’ He added that travelling Gujaratis, Marwaris and Punjabis loved wearing sneakers below their formal trousers when they travelled or to work. So, he asked me to remove the word ‘sports’ and just retain the words ‘shoes’ and ‘apparel’.

When we launched our stores and online presence, I realized how I had miscalculated. The low consumer traction resulted in an inability to cover fixed costs. What I thought would be a virtuous cycle (excess of revenues over fixed costs) became a vicious cycle that pulled us deeper into the vortex.

6 

I chose to build the brand ahead of the business. 

For a consumer-interfacing product, brand building is an expensive proposition.

This is more so in a country like India, marked by a large land mass and the second most populous body of consumers.

At D:FY, our competition did not come in the form of mere products; it came in the form of the Nike Swoosh and Adidas’ three stripes. We had no choice; we were compelled to create a brand from the day we went into business, which warranted the engagement of brand ambassadors and a presence in diverse media (print, out-of-home, digital, radio and TV). 

The result was an expensive proposition that we approached the wrong way. We overspent on the building of the brand than the brand spend itself. The cost of ambassadors, agencies, shoot and retainers came to Rs 2.15 crore; the brand spend was only Rs 1.5 crore.

When our revenues did not match and drained our cash flows, we almost stopped our brand spending, which kick-started our vicious cycle.

Given the formidable strength of brands like Nike and Adidas, we should have built a business around known brands. We should have got an ANTA (Chinese brand) into India. We should have raised additional capital. We should have focused on one medium (digital) and deepened our investments in it.

As it turned out, we built a brand before we built a business; we invested our finite capital across media in one of the largest underpenetrated markets in the world. 

Our voice was drowned out from day one. 

7 

I did not build the right team.

In building the D:FY team, I selected familiarity over competence.

What I gained in terms of integrity and commitment I lost on ideas and experience.

Later, when I tried the latter approach (competence), I lost out on trust.

In retrospect, I would have preferred competence over familiarity.

The other area where I made an error was that we built a top-heavy team that comprised individuals whom I considered friends and family. The result is that one struggled to segregate the personal from the professional.

One could have defined roles and responsibilities more precisely, which resulted in overlap, confusion and pain. If the strength of the chain is equivalent to its weakest link, then team selection was a big chink in our armour.

If one had focused more on team selection and responsibility identification, outcomes would have been different. Wherever we sought competence coupled with clarity of expectations and role definition, the outcomes were better.

But that was too little in too small a part of the company to make any impact. Sadly.

8 

One in hand is better than two in the bush.

Should we have accepted the funding from financial investors like Nikhil Vora’s Sixth Sense when it was available? Should I have taken the revised proposal about working for Kishore Biyani rather than take it to investors?

On the one hand, I would have been in complete control of my destiny had I diluted our ownership in favour of private investors even as driving the big idea would have been a challenge. On the other hand, Kishore Biyani’s coming into the company would have helped D:FY merge with FG, giving us scale and visibility while linking our destiny to his.

I conceptually pushed for the latter because deep down I was not sure of D:FY’s prospects even if we could have mobilized funds. Besides, the second option was easier with a limited downside.

What one had not factored in was that the deal with Future Group would not happen even after it had been conceptually cleared by the Big Man himself. The reality is that the worst case played out and I was compelled to mortgage my house to raise cash for the next net worth infusion into the business.

The delay claimed a casualty; Rajiv, my co-promoter, opted out of the business, and I surrendered. 

I had one in my hand but went for the two in the bush and paid for it.

9 

I did not celebrate my wins. 

There is a natural tendency of the mind to ponder the negative over the positive.

The result is that we don’t celebrate wins, small or big.

Whenever something positive transpired within the company, my immediate reaction would be ‘Isme kya badi baat hai?’ (What’s the big deal in this?)

I never gave myself an opportunity to feel good or be happy. What I overlooked was an important life lesson: success doesn’t lead to happiness, but happiness leads to success.

At FT, I took big risks and was amply rewarded. When I left FT, I should have paused, celebrated and expressed gratitude. That precious sabbatical would have calmed. Instead, the reverse transpired: I did not see it as a win at all. I gritted, took fresh guard and subjected myself to an even larger target: more money. The crest of one achievement was planned to lead to another crest. There were to be no valleys in my existence. 

It was like the coach forbidding the gold-medal-winning decathlete an ice cream after the Olympics was over.

10 

If only I had controlled my temper …

There is an interesting argument that the battle of Mahabharat may never have needed to be fought if the Pandavas had asked for their share of the kingdom in writing. The Kauravas were not miffed with the demand; they were upset enough to go to war because of the way the share had been demanded. 

I made a number of enemies at D:FY by the manner of content delivery instead of the content delivery itself.

At D:FY, ‘Temper’ became my middle name. It wasn’t just the impatience with which one responded, it was the tone that often dented the chassis. I recall a conversation towards the end that led to Rajiv saying, ‘I quit’. I launched deep into him.

Looking back, I never put myself in anyone’s shoes. I spoke from the perspective of my shoes, period. And much of my venom was being derived from the frustration of how the pitch was crumbling even before we could bat.

I apologized later, but the water had flowed under the bridge by then.

Greenlight

Marne se pehle jeena mat chhodo

Life can be decoded from an understanding of the past, but must always be lived in the present. Besides, only time can heal what reason cannot. The sad part was that for long I chose not to reason. As a child, I accepted loss faster than most; never sulked when I lost because, looking back, this could well have arisen from low self-esteem where one had reconciled to the fact that one could never win.

This perspective resurfaced when D:FY floundered. This time the loss was massive; this time the toll was financial and emotional; this time it was like losing a family member after prolonged illness.

Interestingly, despite losing Rs 30 crore in thirty months, I moved on easily for an interesting reason: the urgency to enhance life stability, which represented a new challenge. This need for some calm in life proved to be my next ‘project’, and hence, I moved on.

I reached out to Atul Kapur and Sameer Sain, co-founders of Everstone (Singapore-headquartered private investment firm with whom I had worked between 2006 and 2008). Since I had never put my CV out on the market through HR consultants, the idea was to reach out to those familiar with my capability. Sameer and Atul ticked the boxes; they were based in Singapore. I messaged Atul with a brief narrative of my D:FY failure and asked if I could work at Everstone Group. He called that evening and reconnected with warmth. He asked me what I wanted to do. I told him about my experience as an entrepreneur and in the Indian public markets. Atul said, ‘Let’s connect next week when I am in India.’

When I walked into Everstone’s office a week later, Sameer was present. Sameer asked me the same question: ‘What do you want to do next?’ The upshot was that Sameer asked me to spend time with him in Singapore. Round two of the discussion transpired in Singapore the following week. Sameer viewed me as almost the same Prashant who had left him in 2008; he recalled the Prashant that had been, my need to create quick wealth and trading equities that distracted me from work; I countered by saying that the D:FY debacle had been a transformation.

Sameer picked on that word ‘transformation’. He narrated how Everstone had diversified beyond private equity to industrial real estate (largest in India by far), green infrastructure (joint venture with British Petroleum and the Indian government), venture capital and credit. He spoke about a lot that needed to be done. He spoke about my role as a ‘breadth’ player. He spoke about how I could work closely with him on building Brand Everstone. He spoke about how my capital market experience could be leveraged for some Everstone-promoted companies going public. He finally said something that made an impression: ‘PD, this is your home. I have always liked you – not your hurry-to-create-wealth attitude. Trust me and hop on. Bahut kuch karenge saath mein’ (There is a lot we will do together).

This is your home. That line did it. I joined Everstone in September 2019.

One of my first assignments was an evaluation of one of their prominent investee companies called Burger King India, which was planning an IPO. After spending time on the company and engaging with the CEO, Raj Varman, I called Sameer. I told him that I needed to move on to Burger King. The story was brilliant, the CEO and team were great, but no one within possessed any public markets experience. Within a couple of months, I was seconded to Burger King India to drive its engagement with potential investors.

Some of the old excitement was now returning; I was confident of positioning Burger King India differently from other listed burger chains. The more time I spent talking to the Burger King India team, the more my confidence returned. We had a compelling growth story to be showcased to investors. After a number of years, I reconnected with the investor fraternity. I was back in the game.

We scheduled an extensive global and Indian road show (the term for investment bankers taking a company on a city-hopping tour to meet prospective investors). CEO Raj Varman, CFO Sumit Zaveri and I travelled across cities in India, Singapore, Hong Kong, London and the US from January 2020 onwards. In a month, we attended more than 200 investor meetings. And just when we were about to launch, the COVID-19 pandemic was unleashed. Three days to the IPO, the Indian government announced a lockdown, the stock market collapsed and we were compelled to call off the offering.

They say distance lends observation to the view and so it happened in my case. During lockdown I began to think of how my life would have evolved had I not closed D:FY.

If we had opted for financial investors: My personal mortgage would have been rescued. We would have corrected our business mistakes. We would have ordered for Season Three. We would have widened our distribution network (offline and online). We would have expanded the team. And then we would have run into COVID-19. That lockdown, starting March 2020, would have broken our back, our investors would have lost money and faith and we would have been compelled to bleed and call the show off well into the lockdown.

If we had merged into Future Group’s brand: Future Group could not survive high debt and the personal debt of the promoter Biyani’s family. The value of their holding declined by more than 80 per cent during the lockdown. Future Group sold out to Reliance Retail. As an extension, this is what would have happened to us: All D:FY shareholders would have got shares in Future Enterprises Limited, the surviving entity of FG (following our business being acquired by Reliance Retail). We would have received 20 per cent of the agreed value due to a decline in FG share prices. We would have salvaged a bit, but in the end it would still be curtains. It took the distant outbreak of a pandemic to convince me that shutting D:FY was the right decision (Jain, 2020).

Meanwhile, things were looking up at Burger King India. Recoveries were improving. The team used the delayed IPO as an opportunity to transform the customer mindset and experience. The equity markets began to revive. When we spoke to our investment bankers on reviving the IPO process, they appeared sceptical.

Then came that evening call.

In late September 2020, Sameer Sain took a massive call that reminded me of a quote from Shakespeare, ‘There is a tide in the affairs of men which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune; Omitted, all the voyage of their life is bound in shallows and in miseries.’

He said: ‘Let’s go for it.’ There was a spring in his voice. We decided to re-initiate the IPO.

By October 2020, restaurants were getting operational; footfalls were reviving.

Raj would share our story – morning calls with prospective Hong Kong and Singapore investors, India meetings after noon, then London in the evening, and with barely a two-hour break, we would be ready for the US. We presented to over 300+ institutional investors. We e-met family offices. We e-met large high net worth individuals (HNIs). We e-met portfolio fund managers.

The marquee institutional investor demand (qualitative and quantitative, global and Indian) for Burger King India stock began to build. The press conference was well attended. The broker meet was a success (750 attended). We launched the IPO on 2 December 2020. The question was not whether the IPO would be subscribed; the question was ‘By how many times?’

Greenlight

Then came 4 December 2020, the last day of the IPO. I nervously entered the Burger King India office (Marol, Andheri East, Mumbai). Expectations were high. Calls kept coming from colleagues, family and friends. We communicated the IPO subscription status ‘live’ at the office. Even though we had mobilized what we had wanted in just two hours, we were playing a different game now – the game of ‘number of times of oversubscription’ that would validate the strength of our brand and our ability to communicate.

In another country, India had been asked to bat by Australia in the first T-20 and struggled for fourteen of twenty overs. The TV screen showed a worried Virat Kohli; deep inside I was nervous as well. The slog overs were starting for India; the slog overs were starting for Burger King India as well.

The equity markets shut at 3.30 p.m.; the BSE Sensex touched an all-time high of 45,000. The next ninety minutes were critical for us. Australia was 55-0 in seven overs. India went on to win. Burger King India’s IPO was oversubscribed 157 times. We had sought Rs 810 crore, we received investor offering of more than Rs 70,000 crore.

The show – my show – had received a decisive extension; I had lived to fight another day.

More importantly, the share price of my life – bullish at first, bearish thereafter – had found dependable support to revert to its growth journey.

The best, I keep telling myself, is yet to be.

Greenlights* by Matthew McConaughey sums it up all so beautifully for me.

Greenlights mean go – advance, carry on, continue. They say proceed. Greenlights can also be disguised as yellow and red lights.

Navigating the autobahn of life in the best way possible is about getting relative with the inevitable at the right time. The inevitability of a situation is not relative; when we accept the outcome of a given situation as inevitable, then how we chose to deal with it is relative. We either persist and continue in our present pursuit of a desired result, pivot and take a new track to get it, or concede altogether and tally one up for fate. We push on, call the audible, or wave the white flag and live to fight another day. The secret to our satisfaction lies in which one of these we choose to do when. This is the art of livin.

* McConaughey, Matthew (2020), Greenlights: Raucous Stories and Outlaw Wisdom from the Academy Award-winning Actor, New York: Crown

Sources

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Trisys (2021, April). Retrieved from trisyscom.com: https://www.trisyscom.com/

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Forbes (4 April 2021). Profile. Retrieved from forbes.com: https://www.forbes.com/profile/rakesh-jhunjhunwala/ ?sh=4ec91bdd174b

Fryer, B. (2003). ‘Storytelling that moves people.’ Harvard Business Review.

Jain, S. (2020). ‘Mukesh Ambani buys Big Bazaar: Future Group’s retail, wholesale, logistic biz sold to Reliance Retail.’ Financial Express.

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Nikhil Jain, L.P. (2021). LinkedIn. Retrieved from LinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/in/nikhil-jain-8711a17/

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Index

Aalok (friend), 19, 144

Abix, 136

Adidas, 50, 53, 66, 69–71, 79–81, 83, 98, 114, 134–135, 170, 179

Agerwal, Nidhhi, 136

age vs. wealth graph, xix

aggression, 115–117

Agrawal, Sanjeev, 68–70, 214

Ajio, 185

ajio.com, 100

Akhtar, Farhan, 99, 110–112, 127, 136–137, 140, 142–143, 201, 205

Alchemist, The (Coelho), 54

Algix, 91

Alibaba.com, 59–60

All About You, 108

Amazon, 71–72, 92, 100, 109, 118–123, 127, 130, 136, 140, 143–144, 156–157, 161, 176, 180–185, 189–190, 193, 208

Amazon.in, 100, 176, 182

Amazon Prime, 109. see also Prime Day on Amazon.in

Ambani, Dhirubhai, 147

Ambani, Mukesh, 47

ambition, 5–7

Anirudh (chief financial officer), 162

ANTA, 52–53, 58, 59, 61, 68, 70, 119, 170, 180

Apple, 81

Armani Exchange, 206

Arshia (daughter), 18–19, 49

Arvind, 73, 166, 206

Asia, 26

Asics, 96–97, 98, 207

Asics Gel, 89

Australia, 103

Avenue Supermarkets, 149

Azharuddin, 103

Bachchan, Abhishek, 167–168

Ballard Estate in Mumbai, 39

Balrampur Chini Mills Limited (BCML), 14

Bank of India (Jharia branch), 3–4

BASF, 89, 91

Bedi, Mandira, 136–137

Bengal, 42

Bengaluru, 69, 74, 98, 118, 152, 163, 187–188, 190

Berkshire Hathaway company, 96–97

Bezos, Jeff, 47

Bhaag Milkha Bhaag (film), 111, 140

Bhatt, Alia, 99

Big Bazaar, 25, 65, 69, 137, 149

Big Bull. see Jhunjhunwala, Rakesh (Bhaiya)

Bihar, 3

Bira, 108

Birla, Kumar Mangalam, 47

Biyani, Kishore, xvi, 18, 24–26, 28–29, 31, 45, 65–67, 69–70, 123, 127, 136–137, 139, 140–141, 155, 157, 201, 204

Blackstone, 115

Bloom, 91

Bollywood, 3, 108–112, 142

Bolt, Usain, 98

Bombay (now Mumbai), 4

Bombay Hospital, 4

Bombay Stock Exchange, 103

Boston Celtics, 115

Bow Bazar Street, 10

brand, 101–107

BRICS (Brazil, Russia, India, China and South Africa), 27

Brooks shoe, 92, 97–99, 207

brother’s marriage, 8

Buffett, Warren, 47, 98, 114–115, 178

Burger King India, 224

Byju, 108

Café Coffee Day (CCD), 188

Calcutta (now Kolkata), 3–4, 9

Canton Fair in Guangzhou, 60–61, 73, 79, 84, 119, 171

Central, 65, 130–131, 137

Chakraborty, Rhea, 136

Changi Airport, 90

Chartered Accountancy (CA), 9–12, 43

chartered accountant, becoming, 8–12

Chavan, Harshad, 135

Chennai, 104

Chetan (friend from Kolkata), 138

Chiam, Justin-Dempsey, 97–98

Chicago Bulls, 115

childhood, 3–7, 48

China, 50, 52–53, 59, 68, 70, 79–82, 86–87, 88–90, 131, 136

Chotrani, Kishore, 11–12

Cloudtail (CT), 120, 161–162, 184

Coelho, Paulo, 54

Colgate, 70

conversations, 139–144

Cost and Works Accountancy (CWA), 9–12, 43

COVID-19, 224–225

customer, 65–72

Dabriwala, Amit, 15, 115

Dabriwala, Sumit, 13, 15

Dadar market, 69

Dalmia Bharat Ventures (IEX), 38

Dandvate, Madhu, 29

Das, Hima, 135

death, 201–209

Delhi, 98

Desai, Bharat, 4, 5

Desai, Santosh, 70–72, 106, 155, 214

Descente, 53

desire of life, xix–xx, 3–19

D:FY, 74, 99, 102–107, 108, 121–124, 133–135, 176

Dhanbad, 3–7

Dhanteras, 41

Dhoni, M.S., 104, 108

Diadora, 53

Diesel, 206

Dil Chahta Hai (Akhtar), 111, 140

Dil Dhadakne Do (film), 140

Disney, 99

Disneyworld, 60

Diwali, 6, 39, 41, 45, 127, 150, 151–158, 177, 192

DMart versus Future Group, 148–150

DMCC (DGCX), 38

Don (film), 140

Don 2 (film), 140

Dongre, Anita, 48–49

Douglas, Michael, 42

Dravid, Rahul, 103

Dream11, 108

dream of life, xx–xxi, 23–54

Dubai, 40

Dubai Gold & Commodity Exchange (DGCX), 35

early work life, 13–19

Economic Times, 9

Edelweiss (MSEI), 38

Eden Gardens, 103

Edwards, D’Wayne, 83

Enam Securities, 27

End-Of-The-Season-Sale (EOSS), 192

England, 103, 104

English, 60

entrepreneur, becoming, 57–62

Eureka moment, 59

Europe, 26

EVA foam, 89

Everstone Group, 31

Excel Entertainment, 109, 110

Facebook, 81, 138, 157

family investment, 9

Farah, Mo, 84

Father Maliyekal, 11–12

father’s death, 5

father’s family, 5

FBB store, 67

FILA, 53

FinanceAsia Awards, 35

financial blunders, 169–175

financial institutions (FIs), 15

Financial Technologies (I) Limited (FT), 34–35, 44

fitness in India, 58

Flanagan, Shalane, 84

Flipkart, 118–121, 185, 208

flipkart.com, 100

Forbes, 28

foreign institutional investors (FIIs), 15

Forum, 115

Forward Markets Commission, 34, 37

Fraser Suites hotel in Guangzhou, 61

free-on-board (FOB), 60–61

Fukrey (film), 140

fursat (patience), 130

Future Brands, 118

Future Group (FG), 31, 68, 70, 99, 104, 115, 119, 121, 130, 159, 188, 194–195, 197–200, 202

Future Group versus DMart, 148–150

Fynd, 185

Gandhi, Devang, 209

Gangs of Wasseypur (film), 3

Gariahat, 11

GAS, 206

Gates, Bill, 47

Gavaskar, Sunil, 103

George, Riaan, 136

Germany, 89

Glasgow, 19

Godambe, Juhi, 136

Gold (film), 140

Google, 157

Gordon Gekko, 42–43

Great Indian Dream, 28

Grey Worldwide, 118–119, 153–154, 157

gross merchandise value (GMV), 124

G-Star RAW, 206

G-Star RAW denim, 92

Guangzhou, 60–61

Gully Boy (film), 140

Gupta, Sandeep, 137

Haji Ali, Mumbai, 103

Harvard Business Review, 24

Hatti Kappi, 187

Head-Investor Relations, Pantaloon, 26

Head of Research at RARE, 29

health, 48–51

Hero Cup, 103

high net worth individuals (HNI), 226

high risk, high return, 113–117

Hoka One One, 96, 98

Hong Kong, 177

Hood to Coast Relay, 84

hope, 192–195

Hotel Crown Plaza, 84

Hotel Marco Polo in Jinjiang, 92

house in Mumbai, 29–30, 33

Hrithik, 108

HRS Insight, 15

HRX, 108

Hugo Boss, 206

Hyderabad, 149

IMG Reliance, 104

India, 3, 15–16, 28, 32, 59–60, 62, 68, 97, 103–104; customer, 65–72; financial capital, 17; first home-grown sports brand, 87; fitness in, 58; growth story, 26; liberalization, 29; Pantaloon, 25; Wadekar, Ajit, 3

IndiaMART, 59

Indian Energy Exchange (IEX), 35

Indian Fit for Indian Feet, 92–94

Indian Premier League (IPL), 109

India Today, 91

Indiranagar in Bengaluru, 102

Infinity, 115

Inorbit, 119

Inside Edge, 109, 127

Instagram, 81, 138

Inter-Continental Exchange Group, 38

iPhone, 81

Ireland, 104

Jabong, 121, 185

Jaipur Pink Panthers, 127, 167–168

Japan, 26

Jeremy, 83–85, 97, 136

Jhunjhunwala, Rakesh (Bhaiya), 27–30, 32, 45, 78, 129–130, 147, 205, 214

Jimmy Choo, 206

Johnson, Scarlet, 136

Juhu (Mumbai), 33, 49, 52

Just Dial app, 59

J.W. Marriott, 69, 74

kanku (red powder), 41

Kapoor, Anil, 99

Kapoor, Atul, 31–32

Kapoor, Ranbir, 99

Kapoor, Shahid, 135

Kapoor, Sonam, 108

Kellogg, 70

Kempe Gowda International Airport in Bengaluru, 187

Ketan (brother), 161, 163–164

Khan, Aamir, 109

Khan, Salman, 154

Knight, Phil, 82

Kohli, Virat, 58, 99, 104, 108, 115, 134

Kolkata, 5, 16, 18, 23, 42, 48, 138; FBB store in, 67

Kotak Mahindra Bank and RARE (MCX), 38

Kumar, Akshay, 109

Kumar, Amit, 167–168

Kumble, Anil, 68, 104, 108, 112, 114, 119, 121–122, 135–137, 139, 141–142, 154, 201

kutumb (family), 5

Laxman, V.V.S., 103

Laxmi Industrial Estate, 202

Lenskraft, 70

Lewis, Tony, 3

life: defeat, xxii; desire (1–31 years), xix–xx, 3–19; determination (18 Months), xix, 65–144; dream (31–44 years), xx–xxi, 23–54; like graph of stock price, xvi–xvii

Lifestyle, 99, 130–131

Li Ning, 53

LinkedIn, 83

logo, 101

London, 4, 31, 100

Makhija, Pooja, 49

Malik, Rafique, 205

Maliyekal, Father, 11–12

Manu U, 99

Marks & Spencer, 206

Marshall, Malcom, 103

Marvel, 99

Mauritius, 40

MCC team, 3

Mehta, Darshan, 206

Mehta, Rajiv, 68, 73–77, 81, 92, 96, 105, 110, 115–116, 118, 120–121, 137, 139, 163–165, 187, 202–203

Metro Shoes, 130–131, 205

Microsoft Surface, 52

Mila (wife), 18–19, 37–40

Milanov, Miroslav, 83–85, 97, 136

Mini (friend), 19

mistake, 161–163

Mittal, Sunil Bharti, 90

MLB, 99

Monetary Authority of Singapore, 35

monsoons in Uttar Pradesh, 14

moori (puffed rice snack), 6

mother’s family, 5

Muji, 206

Multi Commodity Exchange (MCX), 35

Mumbai, 16–18, 23–33, 44–45, 74, 89, 98, 121, 152, 190; childhood in, 48; job market, 24; professionalism, 23; retail infrastructure, 115; Wankhede Stadium, 19, 60

Mumbai Indians (IPL cricket team), 100, 104

Myntra, 71–72, 92, 118–122, 130, 177, 185

Naidu, Vinod, 67–68, 102, 104

National Sport Exchange Limited (NSEL), 35, 37

National Stock Exchange (NSE), 35

Nature’s Basket, 188

NBA, 99

Neelkamal building (Kolkata), 5, 17–18, 42

New Balance, 120

New Era, 99–100, 114–115, 207

NFL, 99

Nicholas, Nassim, 125

Nike, 50, 53, 58, 66, 69–71, 80–83, 89, 98, 114, 127, 134–135, 170, 179

Nike Oregon Project, 84

nimbu paani (lemonade), 6

Nishi (niece), 18

non-banking finance company (NBFC), 13

Non-Disclosure Agreement, 120

Nush, 108

NY, 115

Nykaa, 108

nykaa.com, 100

ODIN, 34

ON (Swedish brand), 96

One 8, 108

online partnership, 118–124

Opel Corsa, 17

Oppo, 81

Oregon, 82

OTT platforms, 109

Padukone, Deepika, 108

Pakistan, 104, 139

Pandya, Hardik, 103–105, 108, 112, 114, 118–119, 121–122, 127, 135–137, 154, 157, 177, 188, 205

Pantaloon Retail, 18, 24–28, 30–31, 36, 39, 65

Paper Boat, 108

Parel East, 69

partnership, 73–77

Patherya, Mudar, 10, 13, 16–17

Paul & Shark, 206

Peak, 53

Pensole, 83

Pepsi, 70, 154

personal and professional, 163–166

Phoenix Marketcity, Mumbai, 116, 134, 201

Phoenix Mills, 115–116, 119

Poddar, Ravi, 15

Portland, 82–84, 97, 119

Portland Marathon, 84

positive operating leverage, 153, 157–158

poverty, 5–7

Pranwesha, 136

Prestige, 115

Prime Day on Amazon.in, 121–122, 161, 182

product expansion, 95–100

product obsession, 78–94

professional and personal, 163–166

Prowl, 108

Puma, 50, 68–69, 75–76, 114, 134–135, 170, 179

Puma India, 68, 73, 110

purple.com, 100

Rahejas, 115, 202

Raja of Indian Retail, 139

Rajkot, 138

Ramchandani, Vishal, 110

Ranji Trophy, 12

RARE Enterprises, 27, 29–31, 38, 46, 129

Raw Pressary, 108

Redmi, 81

Reebok, 50, 134–135

Reliance Brands, 206, 207

Reliance Footprint, 69

Reliance World Cup final, 103

Rheason, 108

Richards, Vivian, 105

Rock On (film), 111, 140

Royal Enfield, 70

Ruia, Atul, 115

running shoes, 182

Run Signature, 114

Rupp, Galen, 84

Sain, Sameer, 31–32

Saleem, Saqib, 136

Salvatore Ferragamo, 206

Samir (childhood friend), 60–62, 137

Samsung smartphone, 81

Saraiya, Samir, 160–162

Saucony, 98, 207

Seven, 108

sev puri (Mumbai street food), 48

Shah, Jignesh (JS), 34–39

Shah, Kavish, 16

Shah, Sevantilal, 9–10

Sharma, Anushka, 108

Sharma, Rohit, 100, 104, 135

Sheth, Utpal, 15–16, 27–28, 129–133, 191, 193, 204–205, 214–215

Shivam, Mayank, 136–137, 140, 143–144

shoe development cycle, 93

Shoppers Stop, 99, 130–131

Shroff, Tiger, 108

‘shubh laabh’ (auspicious profits), 41

Sidhwani, Ritesh, 110, 112, 136–137, 140, 143, 201

Singapore, 35, 40, 137

Singapore Mercantile Exchange (SMX), 35

Singh, Manmohan: Budget speech, 29

Singh, Ranveer, 99

Sinha, Sonakshi, 99

Sixth Sense, 194–195

Skechers, 50, 69

Skechers India, 68

Skin in the Game (Nicholas), 125–128

Skype, 83, 86

Snapdeal, 185

Soros, George, 125, 148

South Africa, 103

Southeast Asia, 26

sports shoes. see also specific brands of shoes: compare with the Adidases, 72; Disneyworld of, 60, 182; first set of designs, 85; high-end pair of, 80; marketing, 67; Portland, 82; sold in India, 76; technology in, 81

Spunk, 197

Spurs, 99

Sri Lanka, 104

Standard Chartered Mumbai Marathon, 49

Starbucks, 52

status symbol, 6

Steve Madden, 206

Stewart & Co., 9–11

stock market, xvi, 9, 26, 225; BRICS, 27; career in, xx, 12, 18; Indian, 187; mantra, 171; Pantaloon stock, 26; as a platform, 43; United Credit, 16; wealth accretion, 9

St. Xavier’s College (Kolkata), 11

Sudhakar (principal merchandizer), 189

sustainable competitive advantage, 79, 81–82; Indian Fit for Indian Feet, 92–94; midsole technology, 90–92; original design, 82–83

Tacker, Karan, 136

TataCliq, 185

tatacliq.com, 100

Tata Mumbai Marathon, 103

team, 159–168

technology, 89–90

Tendulkar, Sachin, 67, 103–104

Times of India, 26

timesofindia.com, 157

Titan, 28, 70, 130

Tomek, 101–102

trade: across multiple exchanges, 34; Alibaba assurance in, 59; equities, xvi; global exchanges, 35–36; positions, 29, 33; stop-loss, 204

Trident at BKC, Mumbai, 68

Trisys (financial communications agency), 16–18, 25

True North (NBHC), 38

Tumi, 206

Under Armour, 120

underestimating, 177–180

Union Budget (1989), 29

United Credit, 13, 15–17, 29, 115

US, 26

USA, 24, 82

USA (SMX), 38

Ushma (Utpal sister), 129–130

US West Coast, 82

Uttar Pradesh, 14

vada pav (Mumbai street food), 48

Vadodara (in Gujarat), 105, 138

Vahdam, 108

Varman, Raj, 224

Vietnam, 50–51

VIP, 130

Vivo, 81

Vora, Nikhil, 194–195

VR Malls, 119

Wadekar, Ajit, 3

walking shoes, 182

Wall Street (film), 42

Walmart, 25

Wankhede Stadium (Mumbai), 19, 60

Willamette river, 83–84

Wipro, 74

World Cup semi-final, 104

Wrogn, 108

Xiaomi, 81

X-Step, 53

YouTube, 138, 157

Zaveri, Sumit, 224

Zindagi Na Milegi Dobara (film), 140

About the Book

Prashant Desai was seven when he lost his father. Growing up in poverty, his single-minded focus was to become wealthy and successful. Ranking fourth on the all-India Cost and Works Accountants exam at the age of twenty-one, joining the corporate world and working with leaders such as Rakesh Jhunjhunwala, Kishore Biyani and Jignesh Shah was a dream run that Prashant enjoyed, one that very few could even imagine and achieve.

In April 2017, Prashant Desai founded a venture to build the first truly Indian sports brand – D:FY. In six months, Rajiv Mehta, who started Puma India and led it for seven years, joined him as a partner. They opened seventeen stores in seven cities, riding on great aspirations and confidence. The business lost Rs 30 crore in thirty months, virtually wiping out all that Prashant had earned for nearly thirty years. The venture failed not because Prashant did not possess the necessary vision, determination and courage; it failed because the number of things Prashant did wrong exceeded the number of things he did right.

One could weep over the fuselage or decode the black box. So, when Prashant decided to decode it, new possibilities emerged, revealing a treasure trove of success secrets. The Biography of a Failed Venture provides a brutally honest account of why D:FY failed and how entrepreneurs can avoid these pitfalls to make their business ventures successful.

About the Author

Prashant Desai is a senior director at Everstone Group, a leading India-focused South East Asia private firm with investments across private equity, real estate, green energy and venture capital. He is currently the head of strategy and investor relations at Burger King India.

Prashant is also a trained speed reader and a half marathoner with forty timed runs. He is dedicated to spreading financial literacy through his social media channels. You may reach out to Prashant on Instagram @itsprashantdesai.

Praise for The Biography of a Failed Venture

‘When one becomes an entrepreneur, one must start with an assumption that anything that can go wrong – will. Also, when we fail, there is a tendency to externalize the causes of failure. Prashant Desai neglected to remember the first adage but has pitilessly analysed the reasons for his venture not succeeding by refusing to externalize the causes. A must-read for would-be entrepreneurs. The book underlines the need for solid expertise in all facets of the business, a true understanding of the customer mindset and requirements, a proper appreciation of the competitor’s strengths and weaknesses, but, most of all, the need to temper enthusiasm and passion with deep knowledge.’

– ARUNDHATI BHATTACHARYA, chairperson and CEO, Salesforce India; former chairman SBI; member, board of directors, Reliance Industries Limited, Wipro Limited,
Piramal Group

‘The great Austrian poet and author Rainer Maria Rilke wrote that “The purpose of life is to be defeated by greater and greater things” and that, in essence, is the journey of an entrepreneur. It’s a never-ending marathon with no end, several defeats and where the journey itself is the joy and the destination. Prashant is still on this journey because he is an entrepreneur at heart and brings his touch to various businesses. I have had the pleasure of working with him and observing him for many years. Watch this space. The best is yet to come.’

– SAMEER SAIN, co-founder and CEO, Everstone Group

‘For every page that makes it into a final script, a hundred pages are lying crumpled on the floor. But they aren’t worthless, as they paved the way for something better. Failure is like that, never the end but always a new beginning.’

– FARHAN AKHTAR, actor, director, singer, producer, writer

‘Success is often about learning to fail well. One has to have the ability to let go of the unwanted baggage that failure brings and to learn from the experience and move ahead. My compliments to Prashant Desai on bringing this out so well in this engaging narrative.’

– ABHINAV BINDRA, five-time Olympian and
Olympic gold medallist

‘Everybody reads many stories of successful ventures by entrepreneurs, not many talk about their failures! But failed ventures teach us much more about life, adversity and how to overcome obstacles and succeed. Every failed venture has many lessons. We need to have the courage to accept failure in our lives and carry on. This is a rare book where Prashant Desai discuses his failed venture and the many lessons it taught him. A brutally honest book of immense courage.’

– T.V. MOHANDAS PAI, chairman, Aarin Capital and Manipal Global Education; former CFO and board member at Infosys; co-founder of Akshaya Patra; board member of the National Stock Exchange of India

‘Everyone makes mistakes. Be it in cricket, business or life. It takes courage to share them so that others can benefit from them. Prashant has been fearless with his book, just like me. All the best to him.’

– VIRENDER SEHWAG, former Indian cricketer

‘To fail is not a crime but to give up on one’s passion after a failure is fatal. Prashant Desai’s The Biography of a Failed Venture is a courageous step stemming from his reflections in the wake of a failed start-up. This book is not just a testimony to Prashant bravely accepting his debacle but is also his way of selflessly enabling others to learn practical lessons on coping with failure, learning from it and using it as a springboard to bounce back.’

– RITESH SIDHWANI, co-founder and producer, Excel Entertainment

‘I have always known Prashant as a real entrepreneur in corporate India and wished him well when he decided to take the start-up plunge. Things didn’t work out, he made mistakes – we all make mistakes. We learn the most from our mistakes, yet very rarely do we share them. It is very bold of Prashant to document the mistakes he made and share them in this very readable book. I hope many of us embark on our own start-up journeys but make new mistakes instead of repeating the ones Prashant made. Wishing him the very best in his future adventures.’

– ASHISH RAMESHCHANDRA KACHOLIA, founder and CEO, Lucky Investment Managers Pvt. Ltd

‘We all make mistakes, even though we all like to think we do not. Whilst we all learn from our mistakes, very few consistently remember them. And even fewer share theirs. Through this book, Prashant has attempted to celebrate mistakes. He has shown us how not to be afraid of making mistakes, how to try and avoid them, as well as consistently learn from them. A lot of insights for budding entrepreneurs in Prashant’s book. A highly recommended read.’

– ATUL KAPUR, co-founder and CIO, Everstone Group

‘This unusual story of failure is really the story of all our lives – what makes us fail. It is important because it explains what we don’t need to do to fail, written by someone with first-hand experience.’

– MUDAR PATHERYA, analyst and writer

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First published in 2021 by Harper Business

An imprint of HarperCollins Publishers

A-75, Sector 57, Noida, Uttar Pradesh 201301, India

www.harpercollins.co.in

2 4 6 8 10 9 7 5 3 1

Copyright © Prashant Desai 2021

P-ISBN: 978-93-5422-929-9

Epub Edition © August 2021 ISBN: 978-93-5422-860-5

The views and opinions expressed in this book are the author’s own.

The facts are as reported by him and the publishers are not in any way liable for the same.

Prashant Desai asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.

Cover design: Gavin Morris

Cover image: Shutterstock

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