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.