Lakshmi's 50 Over 50

In today’s world, we are enamoured by the young and the rich.  We have lists for 25 under 25, 30 under 30, 40 under 40.  So, I thought that I would lay claim to 50 over 50. 

I decided to write each week about a person who not only had an idea but had the chutzpah to carry it through and had the tenacity to do it for decades.  Here are the three rules I plan to adopt:

1.     I will not write about my immediate family in India because they would definitely fill the first 50. 

2.     I will not write about people I read about or heard about

3.     I will not write about those who have deceased

I will only write about people I met who are alive.  These are the people who spent some personal time with me that gives me an insight into what makes them unique

Hope you enjoy the stories of 50 Over 50 each Friday.

 Why now?

Here are the two main reasons for coming up with this list:

Firstly - Today, more than ever, there is a need for adult supervision, coaching, nurturing for the young ideas that are springing everywhere.  The experienced have to learn from the young and become coaches who gently guide but not dictate and the young have to learn to bring in experience.  A lot of the problems with starts ups, unicorns and young media moguls is that there is no adult supervision.  There is NO ONE who is watching them to warn when they are on a slippery slope, to make the slight course correction that can be the fine line between success and sudden death.

Secondly - There is a selfish reason for doing this as well.

As I got older, my mind has not aged and even level of energy has kept up but what has changed drastically is the way the society looks at me. When my young colleagues go out to a pub, they assume that I would not want to go out with them;  If I have a little grey in my hair, I am immediately written off the list of cutting edge thinkers and in the start up world, Venture Capitalists want to see a young face at the helm.  And I feel only the youth of my mind and not the age of my body.  I see my friends in my age group who could be great coaches not be utilised to their fullest.  So, I decided that it is about time I created my own list of the COOL 50 over 50.

Why me?

I became an entrepreneur in my 40s.  In some ways, I lived my professional life in reverse.  In my 20s and 30s, I worked for a large company, traveled around the world in style, stayed at the best hotels, hung out celebrities and worked on trends and technologies that define who we are today.  From making a purchase on line to playing a game on the computers to listening to streaming music or watching video online to purchasing online – my career at Intel had a small yet strategic part to play in it.  Subsequent turns as a Venture Capitalist and Social entrepreneur had me hang out with the well to do and the well meaning.  It’s in my 40’s that I got the entrepreneurial bug because I realised that I have always been one.  Even in a large company, I ran small, strategic programs and grew them, always walking away at the verge of having to manage operations and large teams; as a VC, I tried to make investments in India way before it was time; as a social entrepreneur, I set up internet labs in under privileged schools when the conventional wisdom was arguing for taking care of basic needs like uniforms and building toilets.  I always shot way ahead of the curve, sometimes missing the mark and many more times making a difference in my own way. 

And this turn as an entrepreneur has been the most exhilarating yet exhausting journey.  From my fancy life in 20s and 30s, I moved to the financially unstable life of an entrepreneur in my 40s.  And there are three essential ingredients that helped me move myself up the learning ladder that keeps the factor of exhilaration tip slightly over the factor of exhaustion.

1.     To surround myself with the truly wealthy that are idea rich and go through life with humility

2.     To measure success in 10 year intervals and having the stomach to hit the bottom.  And be willing to give up something along the way

3.     Having someone with experience guide me, challenge me and often change my path

Over the years, I realised that there is no substitute for spending more time on this earth and experiencing the ups and downs.  There are many young people who might be more knowledgeable and even wise but there is an undeniable grace and beauty that comes when one stands the test of time.

The technologies may change, content may evolve but the basic pursuit of personal excellence, professional integrity, decency, courtesy, grit and a general respect of all things in the universe and the need to sustain life beyond our lifetime remains the same.

So, I wanted to write about 50 people over 50 who I had the privilege to meet and get to know who embody some of the traits I treasure the most.  Hope you enjoy getting to know them. 

Perfume Diaries (Part 4 of 4)

In the previous three episodes, I shared about my stroll into the streets of scents and how my husband Rajat gave me my soul mate of a perfume, “Poeme”. You also know that I was crushed by the news of Poeme being discontinued. Let’s pause about perfumes and let me share with you something magical.

In 2003, My life changed with the arrival of my son, Arnav. I was always terrified of pregnancy. I thought that it would slow me down, wondered whether I would be a good mother, was worried that the vagabond in me would be curtailed. And much to my surprise, my pregnancy was a breeze. I worked till a week before my delivery and stayed home for a month after bringing Arnav home and I did not want to put him down for a second. For the first time in my life, I really understood what my father must have felt when he held me in that operating room when I first arrived and why he loved me despite all my experiments with life. I fell in love truly and madly with my child.

I would lay down next to him each night and read him stories. When he was five or six, he asked me to tell him stories from my life, especially funny ones. Over the years, I told him stories of my parents’ childhood, my summer vacations, each person I was friends with, my school days, college days in India as well in US, work life, projects I worked on, people I met and told him of his paternal grand parents and all their family. As he grew up, I told him of my dreams, my crazy escapades, work details. I don’t think that there is anything that my son does not know about me.  

He is a teenager now and slowly separating. A major event was when he went to Paris this April to play in a football tournament. It was the first time that he was going out of the country without us, with his school and his friends. He wanted money for expenses. I told him that he did not need much because he would be busy playing tournaments and his hotel and food are covered anyway. I spoke to other parents and we decided that we should give them around $300 and that should be enough for a week. I gave him strict instructions that just because he had money, he need not spend it and that he should not buy anything too expensive and so on and so forth. I could just hear his unsaid “Mom! Stop it” and I finally curbed my helicoptering. He had a great time. They won a couple of games, lost many and carried home wonderful memories of everything from Mona Lisa to Eiffel tower to staying up late talking till they lost their voices. A week later, all the parents gathered at the airport in the early hours – this time to receive tired, quiet kids, quite different from the excitedly babbling boys a week earlier. We got home at about 9am and he fell asleep.

When he woke up, he handed me $50 or so and I scolded him for spending so much money and told him that hopefully he did not buy junk. First he showed me the 5 or 6 t-shirts he bought for himself which totalled $50 or $60, then he spoke about some of the food they ate, then he showed me the sweatshirt he got for my husband and then he handed over a small package to me and asked me to open it. When I did, I saw a beautiful white package of Chanel perfume.  This was the gift that cost him the most – over $100. He said “Ma! I remember the story that you told me about Chanel No. 5 and how you never bought it for yourself. I went to the shop and asked and they said that this was the latest Chanel perfume. I got it for you so that you can now complete that wish.” I felt like such a heel for giving him a hard time for spending all that money. Most of his pocket money was spent on me remembering a story I told him years ago. And just like that, “Poeme” my favorite perfume was replaced by Chanel. He remembered such a random detail from a story of my past and brought me a gift so thoughtful. 

I still have a bottle left of “Poeme” that was given by my husband, who after 23 years, still manages to stay with me; a bottle of “Versace Bright Crystal” that my son helped me buy to replenish the dwindling supply of Poeme and also “Chanel” that he chose for me. They are each my lucky charms for different purposes and I am thankful for the treasure of these three bottles. 

They say that life is what happens when you are busy making other plans. In my nostalgia for things gone by, I have not seen the new possibilities that were right in front of me. We get so attached to things, think that those things define us and then magically, we move into a place where none of those things matter. And all that you are left with is a huge gratitude of the love that surrounds you, of occupying a place in someone’s heart so deep that it touches your soul. May be, whatever our problems are - if we keep telling our stories, our children may provide solutions in ways unimaginable. The trick is not to have that expectation and be surprised by the rewards…every single time. Next time you see me, you sure might wonder if I smell like Poeme, Versace or Chanel and all I can tell you is that it’s that sweet smell of something beautiful. 

Perfume Diaries (Part 3 of 4)

Part 3 of 4 – Perfume Diaries (Oct 4, 2018)

In the previous two parts of these diaries, you got to know how “Poeme” became the perfume of my choice for over two decades. In 2016 or so, I was told that the perfume was discontinued and that it would not be available for sale. I got into a panic. You take some things so much for granted that you don’t think twice about it. At each point of my life, I experimented with only one thing at a time and everything else remains the same. 

When I was single and finding out who my ideal partner would be, I stayed with the same company, Intel. After I got married, we moved into a home and we own that home even now. As I started experimenting with my career – from Intel to being a VC to Social entrepreneur to an entrepreneur from US to India, the rest of the habits remained same – Vamp lipstick from Chanel, Himalayan kajal stick, Poeme perfume, saree for the stage, standard pant, top and stole for the rest of the days, same dishes in handful of restaurants – be it baingan bhartha at the Amber in Mountain View or egg biryani at Lucky’s in Mumbai or spaghetti aglio olio at Toscano in Bangalore etc. So, when lipstick color Vamp was discontinued, I could get over it but when Poeme was discontinued, I was really upset. I wrote to the company, I even wrote a poem about Poeme. 

MARCH 29, 2019

POEME

Liquid Gold

Slightly sprayed on my skin

Lingering all day long

Seeping through layers of my skin

A love affair of over two decades

Becomes such a part of me

That it makes me smell like “me”.

I have always been a scent woman

As a newly wed

When my husband presented a

multiple choice of perfumes

I chose you.

Since then I bought you

In every possible size 

Without looking at the price

With no thought, no other explanation

I kept you with me always

When I sprayed a little on my wrist

The thought of my grand father

Spraying a drop of attar on his handkerchief

And tucking it into his pocket

Would flash by

The summer evenings in Eluru

When my aunts would sit 

With a mound of Jasmine flowers

Weaving into my hair

A five-hour art work

Layering my long hair

Filling the room with a fragrance

Intoxicating evenings

Inexplicable pride as I was

paraded through the neighbour homes

And the final prize would be

Presenting the work to my grand father

Who would ask me to turn around

Putting his hands on my shoulder

Pull me slightly closer to him

And inhale deeply the fragrance of fresh flower

And then turn me around 

And hand me some small change

For my patience to sit for so long

Making me feel like a rich queen

Who can splurge her earnings on

Treating oneself to an ice cream soda

------ All those memories flood by

Summer nights in our Hyderabad home 

When the terrace would be washed

With buckets of water

With heat rising by the touch of cold liquid

Floor cleaned

Mats laid

Covered by hand sown mattresses

Fresh white sheets spread and tucked 

Soft pillows completing the picture

A long line of mattresses pillows 

Welcoming us all to

Sleep under the stars

My Dad, grand parents

Siblings and visiting cousins

A long time of tired bodies

Falling asleep to the 

Breeze carrying the 

Fragrance of Jasmine and Mallepuvvu

From our back yard

Fun nights of stories and laughter

Slowly melting into a mixture

Snoring and silent breathing

I always imagined

A white handkerchief

Sprayed with Poeme

Adorning my body

As I am carried onto the funeral pyre

I somehow thought

That this was a death do us part deal

I had no idea that

Business decisions 

Would “retire” you

I was heart broken

When I heard that 

you were being 

"discontinued"

Sending an SOS to my Friends

to buy every last bottle they could find

I went to the Duty free Shops

Whenever I travelled around the world

To buy the few that were left behind

My panic rises when

I see that storage is dwindling

When my nephew commented the other day

“Do you still use Poeme?

I realised that you have become a part of me

 A signature for my entry into any room

How I wish I could create you

And keep you with me forever

For now

I am slowly getting used

To the idea to bid adieu

To my lovely Poeme

                                               

I felt so silly to be so sentimental about a scent. May be it happened at a time when everything else seem to be falling apart. Being an entrepreneur is a very tough journey. Especially when you start the journey in your 40s and feel as though time is passing by with progress in profits not as fast paced as you had projected. I made America my home for 25 years and the move to India was the most exhilarating yet exhausting transition I ever made. So, even a silly thing like my favourite perfume discontinued, felt like a personal attack.  

Like all things that seem insurmountable, something totally unexpected happened that gave me a whole new perspective and whole new hope. (I realized that week is too long of a break for my final edition. So, look out for the final part on MondayJ)

Perfume Diaries (Part 2 of 4)

In Part 1, I shared with you how I went from knowing natural body odour surrounding me as the status quo to making acquaintance with the world of Chanel No.5.  So, this part is about my entry into the world of perfumes and finding my own.  

After finishing my management studies in Bajaj, I came to Portland State University to do my second MBA. Starting as a Research Assistant gave me $335 a month and a freedom to explore luxuries like perfume. The first stop was at Anais Anais. Like Chanel, it was French, but much more affordable.  I loved a slight spray of the flowery fragrance on my skin and used it sparingly on that occasional date that I went on. 

In all my departmental store perfume adventures, I learnt of a well known fact that remains a magical feature to me. Which is that each perfume smells differently on different skins. The same perfume may smell great on my friend and lousy on me. There are flowery perfumes that accentuate the feminine in you, there are the musky ones that bring out the sensuality in you and then there are the strong ones that smell a mile away announcing your arrival. You know a great perfume that’s right for you when you meet one.  

A full time job at Intel game me more financial freedom expanding my perfume collection. Anais Anais was followed by “Pleasures”. I loved it’s youthful, flowery fragrance. At the time of my punk haircut cut, mini skirt, black stockings, pierced nose era, the perfume seem perfect. During those adventurous years when I would go off on a week-long trek or river rafting or return from a long run or a hike, the scent soothed my stinky skin and made my re-entry into the real world from the weekend escapades. It gave me company on my many dates, often ending in heart ache but always starting with hope and smelling good. 

Over all these years, my hair got longer, skirt length came below the knee and my perfume experimentation expanded. There was Dune, Obsession and plethora of perfumes that paraded. I tried many with no real affinity to any one brand. It was a habit and not a special focus item.  Be it a visit to Macys or Nordstrom to pick up a bag full of clothes or taste food from different restaurants with friends or drink the best wines – it was a life of convenience and comfort and all those things that were once unattainable became routine.

My long adventurous single life came to a halt when I married Rajat. We moved in together to make our home in Milpitas, CA. I ended my gypsy life style and moved into a very organized home with my 10 cushions, one futon and 1,000 books. The marriage was followed by gifting.  Whenever Rajat went on a trip, he brought me back something beautiful – a pearl necklace, a pair of earrings and once, a perfume. I always felt perfume was a very personal purchase. I usually never gave it as a gift (except the ones I would take to India, often from Avon where I worked as a door to door sales woman) nor did I receive it as a gift. When I opened the deep golden mustard box with blue lettering “Poeme” the golden liquid in a beautifully shaped bottle stole my heart the second I sprayed it on my skin. It was as though it belonged. The next day at work, people commented saying that I really smelt good. There was something about this perfume that paired perfectly with my skin.

I got “Poeme” as a gift in probably in 1996 and I stayed faithful to it. My friends who would meet me years later would say that I still smelt the same and would ask me if I still used Poeme. They say that the strongest memory of people is by their smell and I wondered if my scent was completely intertwined with “Poeme”.  

And then, something happened that forced me to prepare to bid farewell to my favorite perfume. 

Perfume Diaries (Part 1 of 4)

Sept 20th is a very special day for me, as it is the birthday of my father, my best friend. Twenty years after his passing, I sometimes panic that I am forgetting him. At times, it feels like it was just yesterday that he was with me and at other times I wonder if all my memories are just a faction of my imagination. His presence seems so distant and almost foreign and I forget the exact contours of his face, the warmth of his embrace and the sound of his voice. So, to hold on to the memories, I thought that I would do what he loved to do the most and what he always wanted me to do – which is, writing. As a homage to him, I want to give it a try to write something every week and post on “Lakshmi’s Lounge”. These are random thoughts, insights, experiences that I want to express. So, here is the beginning.
Sept 20, 2018 (Thursday)

Part 1 of 4 – Perfume Diaries

My introduction to the concept of “perfume” was through Telugu novels, especially by queen of romance novels, Yaddanapudi Sulochana Rani. In all her books, when you enter a luxurious five star hotel, smells of “foreign” perfume floated in the air. Or when a very modern woman with short hair, chiffon saree and a sleeveless blouse appeared on the pages, she would be accompanied by the scent of “foreign” perfume. I grew up in a middle class family and none of the women in my home or the homes of my families in Hyderabad, Eluru, Guntur, Kakinada or even Mumbai, had any perfume bottles in their homes. Some of them smelt like naphthalene balls because they were kept along with the sarees to keep them from insects and some of them of camphor because of the amount of time they spent in their puja room offering camphor lit fire to the Gods. On summer evening, I learnt how to wrap a thread around my toe and hold in and make long garlands of jasmine. Those evening, my feet, my hand and my hair smelt like jasmine. When I walked past the rose garden my grandfather planted in our home, the scent of dark red, yellow and pink roses floated just the like the foreign perfume did in those fancy fictional hotels. My grand father in Eluru would massage his long moustache with a special perfumed oil and once in a while an Afghani attarwalla would come to someone’s home and open up the large box with small vials of attar. The bottle cap would unscrew to reveal a long, thin tube attached with the end tapering out into a flat area. You would dip the flat tip into the attar and dab a drop of it on the wrist and the smell stayed that way for days on end. Into my world, the ide of “foreign” perfume was exotic, exciting and it did not even occur to me that these perfumes could have names.

Long after summer holidays in my aunts’ home gave way to going to IIT Mumbai and then to Jamnalal Bajaj, I came in touch with another “foreign” perfume and this time, it had a name and a story. We did a case study about Chanel No.5. I do not remember the details of the case but the name and the luxury it has come to stayed with me. Later on, when I moved to US, I would walk the department stores spraying myself with sample perfumes. I would always walk past the Chanel No. 5 counter but something would stop me from spraying it on my wrist. Even when I could afford it, Chanel no.5 stayed somehow unattainable and elusive. I did not want to buy it for myself nor did I ever buy it as a gift to anyone else. And then a new perfume entered my life that made me forget Chanel No.5 altogether. Wait until next week to know the story of this new love.