The Talking Cure: Why Family Businesses Must Learn to Talk Again

At the heart of When Nietzsche Wept, the film based on Irvin Yalom’s novel, lies an idea that every advisor to a business family ought to know. The film follows Dr Joseph Breuer, a nineteenth-century Viennese physician and mentor to the young Sigmund Freud, as he treats a patient whose physical symptoms have defied every remedy. He discovers, almost by accident, that allowing the patient to put unspoken fears, anxieties and resentments into words begins, in itself, to heal. He calls it the talking cure.

A quiet moment. A small room. Two chairs. And a long, difficult conversation. Watching it, I recognised something I have seen lived out again and again in the drawing rooms and boardrooms of Indian business families.

It is simple. And profound.

More often than not, we construct entire narratives in our minds. What the other person will say. How they will react. What the outcome will be. And in doing so, we avoid the one thing that could resolve it.

Conversation.

In family businesses, this becomes not just critical, but existential. Silences are rarely neutral. They fill up, quietly, with assumptions, interpretations, and sometimes quiet resentment. Decisions get delayed. Conflicts deepen. Relationships strain. Not because the issues are too complex, but because they remain unspoken.

What goes unsaid does not go away

Look at the family disputes that have erupted publicly in Indian business in recent years. The Singhanias over Raymond. The Kalyanis. The Lodhas. And earlier, the Ambanis, the Modis, the Mafatlals. Behind the headlines, the cause is rarely a shortage of intelligence or intent. It is the absence of conversation. Fathers who never told their sons what they feared. Siblings who never named the favouritism they felt. Daughters who swallowed slights out of respect. Cousins who watched the cracks widen and said nothing.

By the time the family eventually speaks, usually through lawyers and media leaks, the conversation has already curdled into confrontation.

Contrast this with business families that have stayed together across three, four, even five generations. None of them is conflict-free. But somewhere along the way, each built habits of conversation. Family councils. Structured retreats. Quiet one-on-ones. The Sunday breakfast table. Things get said. Not always politely, not always comfortably. But they get said. And resentment never gets the time to settle.

The real role of an advisor: listen, probe, translate

In my work with business families, I have seen this repeatedly. The moment people sit down and speak, really speak, perspectives shift. Not always into agreement. But always into greater understanding. And often, that is enough to move forward.

Which raises an important question. What is the real role of an advisor to a family business?

It is tempting to think the advisor’s craft is in drafting elegant constitutions, designing governance, or recommending the “right” succession model. These matter. But they are not what families remember us for.

The advisor’s first responsibility is to listen. To hear the mother who worries that her daughter-in-law feels excluded. To hear the son who carries the unspoken weight of not being the father’s favourite. To hear the patriarch terrified of becoming irrelevant, who cloaks that fear in decisions that look like control. To hear the daughter who has quietly stopped expecting to be asked.

The second responsibility is to probe. Not to interrogate, but to ask the questions the family has been avoiding. “What would you want your brother to know that you have never told him?” “If your father could hear this without reacting, what would you say?” These questions are not comfortable. They are not meant to be. They are meant to open doors that have been locked for years.

The third responsibility is to translate. Not languages, though in many Indian families that too matters, but emotions. To reframe a founder’s anxiety about letting go as love, not control. To reframe a next-gen member’s wish to do things differently as stewardship, not rebellion.

Governance helps. Talking heals.

Governance structures help. Constitutions, councils and boards create the scaffolding for difficult conversations that would otherwise blow the family apart. Processes matter.

But at the heart of it, continuity in family businesses rests on something far more fundamental: the willingness to talk.

The families that endure are not the ones with the longest constitutions or the most professional boards. They are the ones where a father and a son can sit on the same verandah, without an agenda, and speak honestly about what they feel. Where a brother can tell another brother, “I was hurt,” without it becoming a lawsuit. Where a daughter can say, “I want to be considered,” and be heard.

Breuer’s insight, offered more than a century ago, has never been more relevant to the Indian business family. It is the talking that cures.

Every empire in Indian business that has broken, broke first in silence. Every one that has endured did so because at some critical moment, someone refused to let the silence win.

That is the first and most sacred task of any advisor worth the name. Before the drafts, before the designs, before the boards and the councils, build the room, the time, and the safety, for the family to finally say what it has been unable to say.

The lawyers, the courts and the constitutions come later. They are the ruins we assemble when the talking has already failed.

Talk. While the family is still yours to keep.

War Chests and Emergency Funds: Why Households Must Think Like Institutions

This article was first published in the Economic Times, April 30, 2026

Periods of geopolitical tension have a way of reminding us how little control we really have. The ongoing conflict in the Middle East, involving Iran, the United States and Israel, is not just a distant headline. It has implications for oil prices, inflation, interest rates and financial markets across the world. For households, these shifts translate into something far more immediate: uncertainty in income, expenses and financial security.

In such moments, one principle becomes particularly relevant. Just as nations and institutions prepare for shocks, households must do the same.

Think Like Institutions: Build a War Chest- In my work with family offices, one idea I emphasise consistently is the importance of maintaining a “war chest”, a portion of wealth set aside in safe and liquid assets. This is not capital meant for growth or return optimisation. It is capital meant for survival, stability and optionality. It ensures that when disruption hits, decisions are not driven by panic.

The same logic applies, perhaps even more urgently, at the level of individual households. Financial resilience is not built in the middle of a crisis. It is built before one.

Your Emergency Fund Is Your First Line of Defence- At the level of the household, the equivalent of a war chest is an emergency fund. Its role is simple but critical. It protects your life when your income cannot.

It absorbs the shock, allows you to maintain continuity, meet obligations, and most importantly, think clearly about your next steps. The triggers may vary, a macroeconomic slowdown, job loss, health emergency, or a broader systemic event such as a pandemic or financial crisis. What unites these is their unpredictability and their ability to disrupt cash flows.

How Much Is Enough Depends on Your Reality- There is no single number that works for everyone, but there is a guiding principle. At a minimum, three to six months of essential expenses such as rent, food, utilities, healthcare and loan repayments should be non-negotiable. For those in volatile industries, with variable income streams, or with significant dependents, a longer buffer of twelve to twenty-four months is prudent.

This is where risk is often underestimated. Income is treated as stable until it is not. Entire sectors can slow down simultaneously. Hiring freezes, delayed payments and business contractions tend to cluster in times of stress.

The real question is simple: how long can you sustain yourself if your income stops tomorrow?

Safety and Liquidity Matter More Than Returns- Equally important is where this fund is held. An emergency fund is not an investment strategy. It is a protection strategy. The purpose of this capital is not to grow, but to be available when needed, without loss of value. In periods of stress, liquidity becomes more valuable than return.

Funds locked in real estate, equities, or long-term instruments defeat this purpose. Instead, this reserve should be held in low-risk, highly liquid options such as savings accounts, liquid mutual funds, or short-duration deposits.

There is also a behavioural dimension. Without a buffer, households are forced into unfavourable choices, selling long-term investments at the wrong time, taking on expensive debt, or cutting back on essential spending. With a buffer, decisions become measured rather than reactive. Time, in a crisis, is an asset. Liquidity buys that time.

Conclusion

The current global environment is a reminder that volatility is not an exception. It is a recurring feature of economic life. While we cannot control geopolitical events or macroeconomic cycles, we can control how prepared we are for them.

A war chest does not eliminate uncertainty. But it ensures that uncertainty does not dictate your choices. Because when disruption arrives, as it inevitably will, the difference is not in the event itself. It is in how prepared you are to face it.

When governance speaks English but not everyone in the family does

This article was first published in the Economic Times on March 30, 2026; https://economictimes.indiatimes.com/news/company/corporate-trends/when-governance-speaks-english-but-not-everyone-in-the-family-does/articleshow/129891869.cms

Family constitutions are often discussed as technical instruments. Define ownership. Clarify succession. Codify governance. Put structures in place. But on the ground, they are anything but technical.

Recently, while drafting a family constitution for a business family with networth of around Rs1,000 crores, a challenge forced me to confront a blind spot. Until then, I had worked with families where members differed in views on leadership or ownership, but were broadly similar in education, exposure, and comfort with English or Hindi. This family was different. Some members were not fluent in either language. A few had very different educational journeys and limited exposure to the wider business environment. 

In India, this pattern is not unusual. Founders often evolve rapidly. They adapt to markets, negotiate complex deals, build networks, and create significant wealth within a single generation. But the rest of the family does not always evolve at the same pace or in the same direction. While they may not be active in the business, they shape family conversations, influence expectations, affect family harmony, and impact how decision-makers think.

Therefore, governance has to be explained at the level of the least comfortable member, not just the most articulate one. When those actively involved in the business understand and agree, there is a natural tendency to move forward. And this is where even well-intentioned constitutions can quietly fail.

A constitution that is not understood is not governance

I drafted the constitution after taking extensive inputs from all. As the process unfolded, I became aware of two gaps. First, the language barrier limited my ability to engage fully with a few family members. Second, my role as an external advisor, bringing in formal frameworks and structured processes, may be intimidating to a few.

Recognising this early, a trusted assistant was brought in who could speak with these members in their own language and in a manner they were comfortable with. It helped surface concerns, expectations, and nuances that might otherwise have remained unsaid. The quality of the document improved because the quality of listening improved.

Yet, once the drafting was complete, another concern emerged. The constitution was thorough and carefully structured, but it could still feel overwhelming to some members. Its length, terminology, and formal tone risked making it accessible only to those already comfortable with governance language. A document meant to guide the family for decades cannot afford to be understood by only a few.

Bridging the gap between intent and understanding

So, what can advisors and families do when education levels, language, and exposure vary widely?

First, stop treating governance as paperwork. Constitutions must be explained through stories, examples, and the family’s own journey. Concepts like stewardship, meritocracy, or accountability become meaningful only when grounded in lived experience.

Second, translation is not mechanical. It cannot be left to someone who merely knows the language. The translator must understand family businesses and care about the family’s future. This could be a trusted family member, a colleague, a friend, or even someone the advisor can comfortably explain things to and convey the essence. What matters is emotional intelligence and conviction. Translation must carry soul, not just syntax. If it feels like homework or an academic exercise, it will fail.

Third, participation builds legitimacy. Listening sessions with non-operating members are not symbolic gestures. They are essential. When people see their concerns reflected, they feel included. Ownership of the constitution grows.

Fourth, education must accompany documentation. Constitutions need orientation sessions, simplified companion guides in local languages, and repeated conversations. Small group discussions led by respected elders or advisors often work better than formal presentations.

Fifth, symbolism matters. A signing ceremony where senior family members explain why the constitution exists reinforces its seriousness. When founders articulate that governance is about continuity, not control, it changes how the document is received.

Governance requires humility, not just expertise

Advisors must approach such situations with humility. Resistance is often due to anxiety. For founders, governance can feel like loss of authority. For members who are less familiar with formal business language, it can feel exclusionary and overwhelming. The advisor’s role is to translate governance into fairness, continuity, and harmony.

Family constitutions must honour where the family comes from while preparing it for where it is going. That balance requires empathy as much as technical skill. We also need to recognise a deeper truth. Governance is not about sophistication. It is about sustainability. Families that built enterprises without formal business training often demonstrate extraordinary commercial intuition and resilience. Our responsibility is to help institutionalise that wisdom in ways every member can access.

A constitution must belong to the family, not the advisor

A family constitution that intimidates will not endure. One that is understood, debated, questioned, and eventually embraced stands a far greater chance of guiding the family across generations.

In countries like India, where entrepreneurial wealth is young and diversity within families is the norm, this challenge will only deepen. The advisor’s real craft lies not in drafting elegant documents, but in translating governance into something human: fairness, continuity, and belonging.

Because in the end, governance does not succeed when it is written well.

It succeeds when it is felt, owned, and lived.

Behind the Metrics: The Human Story of Entrepreneurship

This Book Review was first published by Forbes India on March 9, 2026; https://www.forbesindia.com/article/life/behind-the-metrics-the-human-story-of-entrepreneurship/2992056/1

Book Review: Unseen: The Untold Story of Deepinder Goyal and the Making of Zomato by Megha Vishwanath

Penguin Business, 332 Pages

In Unseen, Megha Vishwanath tells more than the story of a startup. She traces the making of Zomato alongside the making of its founder, Deepinder Goyal, placing both within the turbulence of India’s startup ecosystem. The book follows Zomato’s journey from an idea to a platform that reshaped urban consumption. Vishwanath attempts to move beyond hero worship (though not always successfully), and instead circles a harder question: what actually sustains a company once charisma alone is not enough?

Restlessness beneath recognition

Early in the book, Vishwanath asks, “…what happens when you finally become visible to the world… and still feel unseen by yourself.” She closes with, “Strangers recognised his face everywhere. But here, where it mattered most… he had disappeared.”

Read together, these lines capture the emotional truth of entrepreneurship: a restlessness that achievement cannot settle, and recognition that does not quiet the inner noise. Even after building at scale, much remains beyond one’s grasp. Vishwanath treats this not as contradiction but as condition, the human cost of ambition. Success does not resolve uncertainty. It merely changes its shape.

This is one of the book’s quieter strengths. It allows us to see the founder not only as builder, but as someone perpetually in motion, driven less by arrival than by unfinishedness.

Talent density, not founder mythology

One of the book’s most compelling insights is that Zomato’s edge was never just its founder’s drive. It was the depth of talent Goyal cultivated. Over time, he built what can only be described as a bench of founder-quality leaders, people capable of matching his momentum rather than merely executing instructions.

The organisation that emerges is not tightly hierarchical. It is loosely networked, powered by ownership and speed. Vishwanath captures this internal architecture well, showing how momentum becomes distributed rather than concentrated.

Yet here the book leaves an unresolved tension. While Vishwanath emphasises distributed leadership, the narrative remains deeply anchored in Goyal’s judgement and instinct. One comes away reassured about talent, but less certain about institutional durability. If the founder’s presence were to recede fully, would the culture hold? 

This feels especially relevant today. As of February 1, 2026, Goyal has stepped down from the executive role of CEO to focus on new ideas. At 43, he remains central to the company’s identity, still perceived as the connective tissue holding things together. Yet the book leaves behind a productive anxiety: who sustains such a fluid organism when its most catalytic presence recedes? Would Eternal endure if, hypothetically, Goyal ever decided to disappear to the mountains?

Capital with conscience

Vishwanath is clear-eyed about the startup ecosystem itself. Funding cycles, boardroom pressures and valuation swings are described without melodrama. In Zomato’s case, Sanjeev Bikhchandani, founder of Naukri.com and an early investor, emerges as a stabilising force.

More than capital, he brought governance, perspective and restraint. His role illustrates something important: when ambition is paired with experienced counsel, growth becomes more grounded. 

Communication as leadership

A particularly valuable thread in the book is the treatment of communication as leadership. Goyal’s letters to employees are a master class in clarity and transparency, especially the one outlining the qualities that define a founder’s mindset. Ownership. Speed. Intellectual honesty. Long-term thinking.

There is no ornamental language, no managerial fog. Just shared vocabulary and shared standards. In an ecosystem where ambiguity often masquerades as strategy, these letters show how culture is built deliberately, through words that people can internalise. Institutional depth, Vishwanath reminds us, does not come only from hiring talent. It comes from facilitating that talent to continuously push boundaries.

Risk, relationships, and orchestration

The book also captures the cultural risk embedded in entrepreneurship. For those shaped by predictable career paths, leaving a firm like Bain for uncertainty feels irrational. Vishwanath does not romanticise this leap. She shows the isolation, the strain on family and friendships, and the faith required to persist when outcomes are unclear. She also honours the invisible ecosystem around founders: parents who tolerate risk, friends who absorb volatility, early employees who commit before proof.

Zomato is often criticised for not having “invented” anything. Vishwanath offers a quieter rebuttal. Innovation is not always technological novelty. Zomato reorganised information, reduced friction, and saved time. Today, when bandwidth is limited and traffic relentless, that matters. Convenience, here, is structural.

The unseen work behind endurance

Most founder biographies, whether Ronnie Screwvala’s Dream with Your Eyes Open or global accounts like The Everything Store- Amazon or Shoe Dog- Nike, often reflect on companies that have already stabilised into institutions. They emphasise systems, scale, eventual clarity, and the founder who has himself become an institution or a steward.

Unseen operates in a more unsettled space. Zomato, at 17, is neither fledgling nor fully mature. It behaves with the urgency of a startup despite its scale. Unlike many managerial accounts of company building, Vishwanath goes inward. She examines the founder’s psychology, the proximity to failure, the strain on relationships, and the role of family and friends as silent partners in risk. 

She looks into the mind of a founder, who remains in the restless start-up founder phase. That interior focus distinguishes the book. 

Conclusion

At times Unseen reads like a fast-paced corporate thriller. But its deeper contribution lies in what it says about leadership and institution-building. It shows how governance and chaos coexist, how capital needs conscience, and how communication becomes culture.

And then it leaves you with a harder truth. The real test of ambition is not how brightly it burns in one individual. It is whether it can be distributed, absorbed, and carried forward by many. That is the unseen work behind every enduring enterprise. And that, ultimately, is what this book is really about.

Family Businesses as a Pillar of Viksit Bharat

This article was first published in the Economic Times on January 29, 2026; https://economictimes.indiatimes.com/news/company/corporate-trends/family-businesses-as-a-pillar-of-viksit-bharat/articleshow/127759602.cms?from=mdr

Introduction: The Missing Big Idea

In a recent letter to the Finance Minister published in the Times of India, Duvvuri Subbarao, former governor of the Reserve Bank of India, posed a question that goes to the heart of India’s economic moment. If Viksit Bharat is the overarching vision of this government, what does it mean in concrete terms, and how are annual budgets aligned to that vision? Drawing a parallel with Manmohan Singh’s landmark 1991 budget, where the “big idea” was liberalisation, Subbarao asks what the equivalent organising principle is today.

This article argues that one such pillar of Viksit Bharat must be explicitly recognised and supported: India’s family businesses. The objective here is twofold. First, to situate family enterprises historically and empirically as engines of nation building. Second, to outline what the Finance Minister can do, through policy and budgetary choices, to enable family businesses to contribute responsibly, transparently, and sustainably to India’s development journey.

Family Businesses and Nation Building: A Historical Constant

Family businesses are the oldest and most enduring organisational form across nations. In India, family enterprises have long been builders of physical infrastructure, educational institutions, healthcare systems, and local employment. At India’s current stage of development, where the need for infrastructure, patient capital, and institution building is acute, these characteristics matter deeply.

History offers a useful parallel. In the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, the United States witnessed massive infrastructure creation led by business families such as the Vanderbilts, the Carnegies, and the Rockefellers. Railroads, steel, oil, and finance were shaped by families willing to take long-term risks at scale. These families helped build the economic foundations of modern America.

India today stands at a comparable inflection point. Large family-controlled business groups are deeply involved in roads, ports, renewable energy, logistics, manufacturing, education, and healthcare. These are sectors where long gestation periods and intergenerational commitment are advantages rather than liabilities.

Lessons from the Robber Barons

Yet history also cautions us. Many of the American families who built that infrastructure later came to be labelled “robber barons”. Some lost legitimacy due to concentration of power, weak governance, opaque practices, and an inability to manage succession effectively. Several family empires fragmented or faded, not because of lack of wealth, but because institutions did not evolve alongside scale.

This is a lesson India must take seriously. The choice is not between celebrating or constraining family businesses. The real policy challenge is to fuel entrepreneurial energy while embedding governance, transparency, and meritocracy. Without this balance, family capitalism risks public backlash and private decline.

Why Family Businesses Matter for Viksit Bharat

If Viksit Bharat is about sustained prosperity, social stability, and institutional depth, family businesses are uniquely positioned to contribute in four ways.

First, they provide patient capital. Family owners are often willing to invest across cycles, absorb short-term volatility, and commit to long-horizon projects that are unattractive to purely financial investors.

Second, they anchor local economies. Family enterprises are embedded in regions and communities, making them critical to employment generation, skill formation, and social cohesion.

Third, they enable institutional philanthropy. Many of India’s educational and healthcare institutions have been built by business families, often long before corporate social responsibility became mandatory.

Fourth, they ensure continuity. In a world of rapid managerial churn, family ownership can provide strategic consistency, provided governance systems are robust.

Policy Lessons from Other Economies

Across several jurisdictions, governments are beginning to recognise family enterprises as distinct economic actors whose long-term orientation and ownership continuity require tailored policy responses. As documented by Tharawat Magazine , this shift reflects an understanding that family businesses contribute disproportionately to employment, capital formation, and institutional stability, yet face structural vulnerabilities during succession and ownership transition that generic corporate policy does not address. The emerging response is not to privilege family firms indiscriminately, but to make them visible within the policy architecture.

This recognition has taken different institutional forms. In the United States, the creation of a bipartisan Family Business Caucus within Congress signals an effort to ensure that family enterprises are explicitly considered in legislative and regulatory debates. In Poland and Canada, legal and tax reforms have focused on reducing the cost and complexity of intergenerational transfers, acknowledging that poorly managed succession can destroy productive capacity and jobs. In the United Arab Emirates, a dedicated Family Companies Law, supported by state-backed institutions, seeks to codify governance, succession, and dispute resolution mechanisms, positioning family firms as long-term partners in national economic strategy. Hong Kong, meanwhile, has focused on building an ecosystem around family capital and family offices, combining regulatory adjustments with investments in institutional capacity for stewardship and legacy planning.

What unites these diverse approaches, as Tharawat Magazine underscores, is a move away from treating family ownership as incidental. Instead, policy frameworks increasingly aim to align continuity with governance, transparency, and professionalisation. The lesson for India is not to replicate any one model, but to recognise that if family businesses are to anchor Viksit Bharat, they must be deliberately integrated into policy design, fiscal incentives, and economic measurement, rather than remaining an invisible yet systemically important segment of the economy. 

Policy Recommendations

If robust family businesses are to be a measurable pillar of Viksit Bharat, policy intent must translate into administratively actionable and fiscally grounded measures.

First, formal recognition of family enterprises: The Union Budget can announce a formal definition of family businesses, notified jointly by the Ministry of Finance and the Ministry of Corporate Affairs. This would allow family enterprises to be recognised as a distinct category for policy design, without creating a new regulatory burden. Budget documents can mandate periodic data collection through MCA filings, enabling evidence-based policymaking.

Second, governance-linked fiscal incentives: Under the Direct Tax framework administered by the Central Board of Direct Taxes, targeted deductions or concessional tax treatment can be offered to family enterprises that meet specified governance benchmarks. These may include independent directors, documented succession plans, audited family constitutions, and separation of ownership and management. This aligns tax policy with long-term institutionalisation rather than short-term compliance.

Third, succession and continuity financing: The Budget can create a dedicated Succession and Continuity Credit Window, routed through public sector banks and development finance institutions. Backed by partial government guarantees, this facility would support ownership transitions during generational change, preventing distress sales, fragmentation, and employment loss. This intervention sits squarely within the Ministry of Finance’s financial stability and credit flow mandate.

Fourth, targeted public expenditure for family-led nation building: Capital expenditure allocations for infrastructure, education, healthcare, and energy transition can explicitly prioritise public–private partnerships anchored by long-term family ownership. Viability gap funding and concessional finance can be linked to governance and transparency standards, ensuring that public funds support stewardship-oriented capital rather than short-term extraction.

Fifth, next-generation capability development: Budgetary support can be provided under skilling and higher education heads, in coordination with the Ministries of Skill Development and Entrepreneurship, and Education, for structured leadership and governance programmes tailored to next-generation family members. Treating succession as a national economic continuity issue reframes it from a private family matter to a public interest concern. 

Measuring Progress: Integrating Family Business Health into Economic Reporting

If Viksit Bharat is to move beyond aspiration, it requires metrics embedded in official economic reporting. One such metric should be the robustness of India’s family business ecosystem.

The Finance Ministry can mandate the creation of a Family Business Development Index, published periodically alongside existing economic indicators. This composite index could track intergenerational survival rates, governance quality, professional management penetration, employment contribution, reinvestment rates, and participation in national priority sectors.

Such reporting would serve three purposes. It would signal that stewardship-based capitalism matters to India’s development vision. It would create incentives for business families to institutionalise governance and succession practices. And it would give policymakers an early warning system for stress in a segment that employs millions and anchors regional economies.

Conclusion: A Call for Early Attention

Embedding family businesses as a pillar of Viksit Bharat will not happen overnight. It may not be feasible to incorporate many of these ideas in the forthcoming budget. Policy design, inter-ministerial coordination, and institutional alignment take time.

But that is precisely why the conversation must begin now. As an early set of ideas for the next budget cycle, this article urges the Finance Minister to take notice. If India wants development that is durable, inclusive, and institutionally sound, it must look closely at the families that build, own, and steward its enterprises.

Viksit Bharat will not be built by capital alone. It will be built by families who think beyond one generation, supported by policies that reward responsibility as much as ambition.