Epilogue

Doing both works in business.

I believe it applies even more broadly—and naturally—in life.

As I reflect on my own life, it occurs to me how often I use doing both to overcome a challenge or to seize an opportunity. And not just as a professional in the technology industry, but as a father, son, husband, neighbor, and citizen, too.

Millions of us strive to achieve at the office and succeed at home. We try to live for today and plan for tomorrow. We labor long and hard to provide our children the very things that our parents gave to us—roots to keep them grounded and wings to help them soar.

A son in the East and a father in the West, I aim to respect tradition and to embrace progress. I endeavor to fulfill my emotional needs and nurture my intellect. I work to be tough when the moment demands and compassionate when the need arises.

But while there are unlimited opportunities to do both, one example has served me more than any other: preparing meticulously and improvising enthusiastically.

This is something I first learned as a 15-year-old applying to the Indian Institute of Technology (IIT). Then, I was one of approximately 150,000 applicants—a long shot considering the university accepted just 1,500 students each year.

Given these odds, I wondered how best to prepare for the university’s entrance exams. I had heard about a preparatory class in Delhi, but that was six hours from my home and, moreover, a world away from the small-town life I knew. In all my life, I had never been to a big city. The thought of visiting one, let alone living there, was daunting. To me, a big town was one with more than two movie theaters. Delhi had somewhere north of 60—an unimaginable number to me.

Still, I wanted to attend the class. But there were hurdles to overcome. For starters, I had no place to sleep. My family couldn’t afford an apartment or hotel, and we knew no one with whom I could stay. Furthermore, the four-month course was already more than half over when I learned of it. Ever persistent, I asked my father to make some inquiries. As luck would have it, a colleague told him that there might be a place for me at a nearby army base. “Send him over and we’ll see what we can do,” he said.

Uncertain of what to expect, I boarded the bus and headed for Delhi. This was a bit out of character, to say the least. My life to that point had been geared around studies and family life. There were routines and rhythms that I practiced over and over. They became my touchstones. A perfectionist by nature, I didn’t generally like to leave things to chance or doubt. And yet, the situation compelled me to step out of my comfort zone.

When I arrived in Delhi, I found there was no bed for me at the army base, no desk to use for studies, and no place to store my clothes. Instead, I was pointed to a veranda without walls. Where will I eat, I wondered? What if someone steals my things, I asked? Don’t worry, I was told. Make the best of your situation and see what happens. And so I did.

I made a pillow from books and clothes, and fashioned a desk with a light that I made from a single bulb and a few wires pulled from a nearby electrical socket. For seven weeks, the outdoor porch was my humble home. Every night I would return from class late to find a plate of food set out for me by my makeshift bed. Though the food was cold, it warmed my heart and fueled my desire.

Doing both—preparing and improvising—paid off. My entrance exam scores won me acceptance to a prestigious program at IIT, which changed the trajectory of my life completely. Gaining entry to that school opened the door for me to come to America, where I continued to do both.

That includes the time, some years later, when I needed to secure a summer internship during my MBA program at The Wharton School of Business. The year was 1990—a tough year in terms of economic prosperity and job growth.

Though I couldn’t do anything about the economy, I was determined to land the best job possible. One of the firms I set my sights on was Bain & Company. With a roster of clients that included many of the world’s top companies, Bain was one of the world’s premier management consulting organizations. It was a dream destination for many of us at Wharton. But getting in wasn’t easy.

To hook up with Bain, students had to work through the campus placement center and hopefully qualify for an interview when the company came to town. Bain offered first-round, on-campus interviews to 225 students from Wharton’s pool of 750. Only 15 of these would be invited for a second-round interview in Boston. And Bain planned to hire just two interns.

While the odds of being hired weren’t good, I was hopeful nonetheless. Call it hubris or naïveté, but I honestly thought that having a degree from one of India’s finest engineering schools and top grades from Wharton, along with strong work experience, would distinguish me from other candidates. But it didn’t. When Bain posted the names of the 225 students it wanted to interview, my name wasn’t on the list. My best shot at getting hired with one of the top companies in management consulting was over before it started.

Or was it?

Remembering the times in my life when I refused to let a setback stop me, I decided not to take no for an answer. Yes, I had the scores and grades required. I had the smarts and knowledge, too. But while I had done everything in my power to prepare for getting a position with Bain, I hadn’t yet improvised when the moment demanded.

So I rang Bain and asked that its recruiters give me additional consideration. No, I was firmly told: “We have our procedures, and we follow them.”

Undaunted, I showed up at the hotel where interviews were underway. “Just give me five minutes,” I said. Once again, I was told that there would be no time for me. Refusing to give up, even if it meant embarrassing myself in front of my classmates and a potential employer, I sought out the top recruiter and asked if he would chat with me between interviews. “My calendar is full, and there’s simply no time in the day for that,” he said.

Despite being told “no” several times, I waited outside the interviewer’s room all day and made small talk whenever an opportunity presented itself. After his final meeting of the day, he emerged in a hurry and apologized one last time but said he had to take a cab to the airport. “Let me ride with you,” I pleaded. “We can talk on the way.”

Exhausted, the interviewer relented.

I don’t remember what I said exactly, but I must have left an impression. When the list of the 15 finalists was posted, my name was finally on it. Better still, after the last round of interviews in Boston, I was one of the two people offered a job. That wouldn’t have happened without both preparing and improvising.

Doing both had again paid off. Without it, I wouldn’t have the story that I do today.

Thanks for allowing me to share it.