Family Owned Concerns

            I’ve mostly worked for family owned businesses. Other than some small time contract stuff I did for Doordarshan and later for the UGC programs, and perhaps a year-long stint as a teacher in a primary school, I should say ‘always’.

In Delhi, Network Pictorial was owned by a Marwari trader who’d invested in one of the best printing presses in India. This was the in-flight magazine of the erstwhile Vayudoot. When the editor quit and changed jobs, she took her team along with her, self included. Delhi Recorder was owned by a huge, moneyed sardar who lived in a rented Oberoi suite for years or months together. Our office in Connaught Place was posh and well located. When we shifted to the suburban Nehru Place, that place too was well done up. But most of the time there was little to do, the money wasn’t good, one never knew when the place would shut down, but when one is desperate for a job, one sticks. Many stuck. We were all qualified professionals, or so we thought. Actually, we were slaves. I remember a retired Brigadier who was employed to take charge of administration was told (very rudely) to fix a door handle. The tone was unbearably I’m-the-master-you’re-the-nobody. I’ve no idea where the money came from to run the outfit. Arms deals, maybe. No one found out. Most quit well before curiosity got better of us. Perhaps that’s why some of my ex-colleagues are alive today. Not that I’m in touch with them.

The next job I landed was at a Malayali-family owned school in Jodhpur. Imagine Malyalis in Jodhpur. Actually imagine Malayalis anywhere. Not difficult, for like Goans, Malyalis are found all over the place. That was probably the only family-owned concern where there was zero interference in the functioning. Reason? The entire family worked in the same institution. Their children, nephews, nieces, every single member was involved in it. Either teaching or learning, in admin, accounts, in the library…. And all were qualified for what they did or were qualifying to do so.  Still, systems had to evolve and weren’t perfect.

In Goa, I worked in a five-star hotel owned by one of the mine-owning families.  No matter how many fancy diplomas the managers and directors had, the boss was an offspring who’d barely scraped through school, maybe college, no one was quite certain. Whims reigned, emotions ruled, and the hotel ran thanks to that wonderful Indian commodity: the loyal worker. Most took pride in what long hours they worked and for how little. Only when other big hotel chains stepped into Goa and outsiders flocked in did some leave. Even then, they sort of slunk away, feeling guilty at having ‘let down’ their ‘maay-baaps’. Of all the places I’ve worked in, this one was the most ‘money-minded’. I remember how awful the ‘conference guests’ here were. No class, less money, and still we bent over doing that horrible ‘aarti-tikka’ to welcome them. The Taj, the Leela __ no other five-star hotel would touch them with a barge-pole. We didn’t mind them gargling in our pool, ogling at our female foreign guests. We were just interested in the rupees. Am glad I left when I did.

In Mumbai, my first job was with a private coaching class. The classes were held in dingy flats, crowded with every inch of bench space squeezing in human flesh. There were (are) several branches all over Mumbai and parts of Maharashtra run by the same family. Honestly, though, I must admit, they were very well run. Everything was on the dot, transparent and ethical. That was the first time I felt that privatized education was a good idea. Autonomy would/could ensure merit. Reputation is earned. It is no wonder this particular class is doing well in such a competitive environment. Quality matters.

Then I moved on. One more job, one more industry, one more episode in my life. This time I joined a well-known hospital. Everything here smacked of professionalism. Ethics were high, still are. Mumbai has taught me one thing: work is worship here. It’s service before self always. Even the chors and cheats take pride in what they do. But, a family owned concern has certain traits. The person at the head has to be a family member, whether or not s/he knows what’s happening or supposed to happen. Over a period of time, they pick up the ropes and can run the business, but … only time can tell how. Reliance, Tatas, Birlas, Khaitans, all have learnt one thing: nothing like education to beat the professionals at their own game.

A friend once told me: agar naukri hi karni hai, toh government ki honi chaahiye. Nahi to apna business karo. Wise words.

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