If Truth Be Told: A Monk's Memoir (10 page)

In December, I finished my bachelor's degree, six months in advance. A three-year degree that was reduced to two years because of the exemptions eventually got completed in eighteen months because I did the additional subjects in summer and as well as winter school.

My life was finally stable now, with my basic education complete and a steady income coming in. Since I had arrived in Australia, I hadn’t really had the time to focus on myself, on my inner life. My sadhana had not intensified or improved. Now, as things settled around me, the void that had always been within, but veiled briefly by my external pursuits, bared itself to me again.

My goal of renunciation was clear to me and I knew exactly where I was headed. But it wasn’t time yet. I had to be certain I wasn't choosing the spiritual path as an escape from the material challenges of the world. To achieve the pinnacle of material success and
then
to walk away would be a far truer renunciation. If I had nothing to lose in the first place, what was I renouncing? I wanted to make sure my intent for spiritual life was clear and pure.

But I wondered if working for others was the way forward. No matter how much I made as an employee, I would have to work till I retired. And if I continued to work this way, when would I have the time to explore my own soul? Driving a convertible sports car to work didn't have the same charm now as it had in the first couple of months. My pay cheque, which had got me so excited earlier, felt like an ordinary piece of paper. The routine was starting to feel boring and I realized I needed to make some changes. It occurred to me that what I did for IWN, I could easily do for myself. I figured that building my own business would be an interesting and rewarding venture now.

IWN gave me a Christmas bonus of $20,000 after I earned more than two million dollars in revenue for them. I came home and showed Rajan the cheque.

'Wow! Let's celebrate,' he said.

'Absolutely. But first I have to send an important email.'

I wrote to Dan and then turned off my phone.

'Okay, let's go for a movie and a dinner. I really want to celebrate today.'

At the restaurant, I kept staring at the menu and chuckling to myself.

'What's the matter, why are you laughing?'

'You know, brother, life's like a menu. We have to make choices, we can't have everything. Even if we can afford it all, even if we want to eat it all, we simply can’t. We must pick what delights us and not just order the first item on the menu. Today, I’ve made a choice too.'

'I get nervous with your cryptic talks, man. What did you do? What choice? Tell me in plain words.'

'I quit.'
'Can I get you some drinks to start with, gentlemen?' the waiter intervened.

'In a few minutes, please.' Rajan sent him away, staring at me in shock.

'You what? You quit? I thought you got a bonus cheque, not severance payment.'

The tension on his face made me want to laugh. 'It was a bonus cheque. But I emailed my resignation after I came home.'

'But
why
?'

'Because when I was driving back home today, I had a realization.'

'What realization? Oh please, say something and say it clearly. What are you up to?'

'Why don't we order something first?'

'No. We are not ordering anything till you tell me why you quit. And what's this realization business?'

'Well, so far, I've been ordering the first item on the menu. My logic was to achieve what I didn’t have so that I could be happy. When I was unemployed, I wanted to be a programmer. When I became a programmer, I aimed to be a software architect. Then I became a technical lead, a technical manager, a technical director and finally a CTO. I guess this policy has served me till now. But I’d be a dunce to continue like this. Am I happy? Is this what I want to do? No, brother, no. This is not what I want to do and this is not what I was born to do.

‘In the board meeting today, one of the members was sixty-five years old and still worried about getting a parking ticket. As he crunched numbers, he was coughing and sick but forced himself to attend the meeting. Why do we earn and why do we learn? What is growth? What is progress?'

'Can I get you something now, gentlemen?'

'A salad, a bruschetta, a coke and a sparkling water with a slice of lemon,' I said. 'Two vegetarian pennes for the main and one of them with bocconcini cheese, please.'

'Did you want anything else?' I asked Rajan. He shook his head.

'I don't want to be like that old board member,' I continued. 'A dog never becomes the master. I don't wish to be an employee anymore. I want to be my own boss, the captain of my ship.'

'But what will you do?'

'I'll start my own business.'

'What about capital? You need an office and a team. How will it all happen?'

'I don't have the answers yet, but I've decided I'll work for ten more years. I'll retire at thirty, no matter what. The only way I can do that is to build my own business.'

‘But what if the business doesn't do well? We have no background in business.'

'It doesn’t matter. I've decided on a course and nothing can stop me.'

'But what if God has other plans for you? I haven't seen anyone retiring at thirty.'

I laughed. 'This may be God's menu but I'm the customer here. I'll decide what I want to eat.'

'But what will you do after retiring?'

'I plan to meet the Creator. I would like to see who designed the menu for me.'

'And what does
that
mean?'

'It means what I just said. I'd like to meet God.'

'What God? What
are
you talking about? Stop torturing me, Amit. Just say it clearly please.'

'I want to devote my life to my search for Truth.'

'Your whole life?'

'Whatever it takes.'

'What if you change your mind tomorrow?'

'Of course I'll change my mind. The mind is always changing. It's the nature of the beast. What won't change, however, is my resolution. I solemnly declare that I'll retire at thirty, exactly ten years from now.'

'What’s the big deal about being thirty?'

‘By then, I know I’ll have earned the money I need. And I’ll be ready to move on. Besides, if I can't build a business in ten years, that means I'm not fit for business. Ten years is long enough to succeed at something.'

Rajan sat in stunned silence. I nudged him to eat and consoled him as well, saying there were still ten years to go and that I would always be by his side. The food was served and, for the first time in years, I was no longer in a rush. The soft but crunchy bread, the succulent balls of fresh mozzarella in my penne, the taste of fresh greens, the tickle of black pepper, the flavour of dill—I experienced them all. They came, one by one, and mingled on my tongue in a strange blend of bliss and awareness. And I savoured every bite. I wasn’t just eating my food; I certainly wasn’t gulping it down. I was experiencing it. 

Sip by sip, slowly, I enjoyed the sparkling water, its rising bubbles reminding me of the rush of desires in the human mind. They were incessantly rising to the brim and would continue to do so until the water was flat. But this didn't mean I had to drink hurriedly. Bubbles of ambitions and desires, of situations and circumstances, of thoughts and emotions, would keep rushing in, but I still had the choice to enjoy my drink, one sip at a time, at my own pace. Those bubbles were good, they were even necessary, they were not to be loathed but enjoyed, for they had made the flat water sparkle in the first place.

It was time to start my own IT consulting business. I could not afford an office or a team, so I started out in my own apartment, with barely any capital. I was certain of making it big but my plans got a big jolt when I ran from pillar to post and failed to get a contract from my existing contacts. This was because the Internet bubble had just burst, the financial markets were in the doldrums, consumer sentiment was weak and corporate spending was at an all-time low.

To make matters worse, I realized that I had practically no knowledge of starting or building a business. I had mistakenly thought that my technical competence was sufficient to generate business. Well, it wasn’t. To make up for my lack of skills and learn some formal tricks of the trade, I enrolled for an MBA program at the University of Technology in Sydney.

Four months later, I saw a contract opportunity with Eclipse Group, a web design enterprise and a fully-owned subsidiary of Deloitte Consulting, one of the world's top five consulting firms. A meeting with their CEO, Michael Kean, was arranged. At the meeting, I learnt that Eclipse Group wanted to generate more revenue from software rather than from web design. This was because there was more money in software. Software was my area of specialization, of course, and I didn’t think this was a coincidence. They signed me up at $1,000 per day to grow and lead the software development practice.
              I accompanied Mike to most executive meetings and presentations. The reason customers liked me, they said, was because I fearlessly spoke my mind. I didn’t follow the usual method, where consultants simply endorsed the decisions the client had already made. My role was instrumental in securing more business from General Motors and Dairy Farmers. Both were multibillion-dollar organizations, the former being much bigger. When I assessed the technology blueprint of the two companies, I told the CIOs at both organizations that they were wasting money by buying a particular software, a content management solution.

A few months later, Mike invited me for a coffee at the Crowne Plaza in Melbourne. Coming to the point quickly, he said wanted me to think about taking on a bigger role—something more permanent at Deloitte. He went on to say that he was retiring and looking for a successor to head Eclipse Group. Clearly, he was hinting at a career for me at Deloitte but I didn't want employment.

I was still quiet when he said, 'You know what our biggest challenge is?'

I said, 'In terms of clients?'

'No. In terms of you.'

I smiled.

'You see, our biggest challenge is to find a challenge for you.'

I was deeply impressed at his reading. It was true. Whenever something stopped challenging me, I would just move on.

'And do you know what the biggest challenge for you is?'

'To stay motivated?'

'Maybe. But the real challenge for you will be to pick the right option. Life is going to present you with many choices and, obviously, your future will depend on your choices.'

His profound statement, laced with wisdom, has stayed with me.

Meanwhile, my consulting practice grew. I hired a small team and invested every single cent of my profits in the development of an enterprise search engine; it was like Google but meant only for companies.

Over the next two years, I got my Australian permanent residency, finished my MBA, set up a software development centre in India and travelled to New York to start a branch office. The New York operation, however, didn’t do as well as I had expected, and Sydney needed my attention, so I curtailed my ambition and focused more on my Australian operations.

Revenues from the Australian business flowed in, and I was keen to invest them in areas other than just product development. A year later, in 2003, I decided to start an office in Silicon Valley. I needed an infusion of institutional capital to take my product to the broader market segment. I also needed someone to manage my Australian operations.

I had met Andi at a client’s and we had become friends. We often played chess together. I hired him to work for me. He wanted to build his own company, so we agreed that while looking after my business, Andi could also work on his own product, unrelated to our offerings, so that there was no conflict of interest. After all, that’s how Deloitte had supported me.

I shifted to California temporarily, leaving the reins of the Australian operations in Andi’s hands. After staying in a serviced apartment for a few weeks, I moved in with Ashwani Verma, a distant cousin, and his wife Monika. They opened the doors of their home, as well as their hearts, for me. A great support, they helped me take my mind off work.

I spent a few months in California pitching my company to various venture capitalists. Back in Australia, however, we didn't close any major deals in my absence. With mounting expenses in India and California, I unexpectedly found myself in the middle of a severe cash crunch. Finally, DFJ, a tier-one venture capital firm in Silicon Valley, showed interest in investing. After I presented to all the partners in the firm, I was certain that the funding of seven million dollars was on its way.

A couple of days after the presentation, my phone rang. It was Josh Stein, my contact at DFJ. My mouth went dry. I knew he was going to talk about the terms sheet. God had materialized the money for me. Josh spoke for a couple of minutes but I couldn’t register anything he said; I was just waiting to hear the good news. Finally, his words came through. 'Unfortunately, other partners are not keen at this time, but I think you have a great product and you should pursue other investors.’ He said some other things that I don't remember.

I was shattered. I had no other real tangible leads. I called Keith for consolation. Keith Taylor, in his late forties, was a good friend and the chief financial officer (CFO) of a start-up in Silicon Valley. I had met him through an online reference soon after arriving in the US. He had helped me with the financial model for raising equity along with the venture capital pitches. Soon, we were meeting every Sunday morning for a coffee and a sandwich. He told me not to worry and that I would find some other leads. But I was completely lost.

I spoke to Ashwani and he suggested I take a break. I had been working day and night across three time zones for the last several months. I also called Arun, who had moved from Sydney to Toronto two years ago. He asked me to visit him for a few days. I boarded the next flight to Toronto.

The city was a good change for me. We went out Friday evening and the entire day on Saturday. On Saturday night, I checked my email to find one from Andi. It was his resignation letter, stating he would not be coming to work Monday onwards. Monday? He was supposed to give me a month’s notice. I called Andi but got his voicemail instead. I left messages but did not receive his call. How could he not honour the notice period?

Then it hit me that he had left me exactly the way I had left TTA back in 1998. It was payback time. I immediately thought about my clients and my employees. How would I support them? I had to go to Sydney right away. There were no direct flights available, so I hopped through four connections to reach Sydney.

This was now October 2004; I had been away for seven months. Upon reaching Sydney, I found out that the situation was much worse than I had thought. Andi's resignation was only the last nail in the coffin; much had already happened in my absence. In a direct conflict of interest, Andi had offered my customers the same services through his company. Rumour spread that my company had gone belly up. My major customers jumped ship in panic, thinking they would not get technical support from us any longer. A couple of other customers contracted with Andi’s company directly, and all prospective customers shied away.

This storm had been quietly raging in Australia while I had been focusing on raising equity capital in the US, totally unaware of what was going on. I tried to salvage the situation and met with my customers, but it was very hard to win them back. Being unavailable for seven months was equal to seventy years in the Internet age; my clients had lost confidence in me.

One customer, a dairy company called Bega Cheese, stood by me and asked me to continue the work. They were a small client but I was happy that I had an active client reference. I also knew that sooner or later, I would sign up new projects, but I needed money right away to keep the India office going. This office formed my technical team and I couldn’t do without them. So, I decided to sell my assets, including my house.

I had been looking for a change of scene in any case, and figured this was a good time to move; Canada was my next destination. I wanted to build a business in a bigger economy. By that time, Rajan had been married for over a year to a wonderful person called Pooja. I called her PB, short for Pooja Bhabhi. PB was like a mother to me and took care of me at every step. Together, Rajan and PB were my backbone. The three of us had lived together in Australia. When I told them I was moving to Canada, they announced they would come with me.

‘You don't have to move because of me,' I protested, 'everything is going so well for you here.'

'No, Amit. We will live wherever you live. We'll live together,' said PB tenderly.

'Don't worry about me. I'm fine. Seriously. There's no guarantee I'll even stay in Canada. Most likely, I'll move to the US.'

'That's fine, we'll still be closer to you.'

'But why do you want to quit your jobs and take this major step?'

'You know, even though I look up to you, you are still my younger brother,' said Rajan. 'I can't stop feeling protective about you, I'm concerned about you. I know you can rebuild your business and I want to support you. I'll take care of all the living expenses.'

‘Are you both sure you want to move to Canada?'

'Yes,' they chorused. 'We are where you are. Nothing else matters.'

I laughed heartily. 'Alright then, tighten your seat belts, kids. We're gonna have one helluva time in Canada.'

Then PB asked, 'Tell me honestly, you are stressed, aren't you?'

'You want to know the truth? Will you believe me?'

'Of course.'

'Then listen carefully. The truth is that I'm greatly relieved. I had stopped stressing on my return flight to Sydney, and I can’t be bothered by what is past. I'm happy because I'm free again and I'm ready to build again. I’ve always enjoyed building more than running. I know exactly what I need to do now. In fact, I've already thought about the car I'm going to buy next year.'

'Oh really!' PB was always excited about everything I said or did. My brother shook his head disbelievingly.

'Tell us, tell us, which car will you buy next year?'

I turned my laptop towards them.

'Oh my God! A Porsche!' PB clapped in excitement.

'Yes, I was already selecting the model.'

'I know you'll do it,' said PB.

'Can we come back to earth, Amit, if you don't mind?' Rajan said. 'We've just sold our house and everything else of any monetary value. We’re in a grave situation here. Don't you think we should be a little practical?’

I laughed again. 'Watch me, brother, wait till you see me in action. Before the end of next year, I promise I'll have this seal-grey baby. Not financed, rented or leased, but a fully owned car.

'I know he'll do it,' PB exclaimed.

'You guys are unbelievable,' Rajan muttered in exasperation.

'Well, we'll revisit this topic next year and then you tell me,' I said.

'Oh, the lion's injured but hasn't forgot to hunt,' Rajan said.

'Porsche, bro, Porsche. Next year. A Porsche parked in our own house.

Alright, I want to celebrate this promise. I want to celebrate our car and new house in advance. Put that black dress on, PB. We're going for the finest Italian cuisine in town.'

Rajan and PB moved to Canada first. I had to stay back for at least six weeks to wrap things up. I started hunting for a small, short-term contract to better utilize my time. Six weeks was too brief a period but I wasn't prepared to waste even a moment. I had to get back on my feet and earn my livelihood again. This was another opportunity that destiny was throwing my way and I could have easily renounced the world now; in fact, I was tempted to. Yet, a part of me knew clearly that to do so at this time would be escapism. It would also be an untrue renunciation because, almost penniless, what did I have to renounce anyway? I also wanted to build from scratch to prove to myself that the first time round wasn't a fluke. I wanted to be sure that I did indeed have the competence and conviction to script my own destiny.