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.

Udaipur: A Dream in Every Detail

I recently returned from Udaipur, and even now, the city’s magic feels like it’s lingering in my heart. Known as the City of Lakes, Udaipur is a harmonious blend of romance, culture, and history. Its beauty unfolds slowly, like a story you don’t want to end. From tranquil lakes to grand palaces, from delicious food to enchanting music, Udaipur is a symphony of unforgettable experiences.

Adding to this unforgettable journey was a meeting with Maharaj Kumar Sahib Dr. Lakshyaraj Singh Ji Mewar of Udaipur. A gracious host and a remarkable individual, Lakshyaraj Ji welcomed us warmly, and our conversations spanned a range of meaningful topics—from family enterprises to philanthropy, from education in schools to advancing gender equality. For our next generation, it was a unique opportunity to meet and connect with the 77th generation scion of the Mewar dynasty—a living symbol of Udaipur’s rich history and legacy.

A Cup of Chai Under the Moonlight

One of my most cherished memories is of sipping chai by the lake. Now, you should know I’m quite picky when it comes to tea made outside. But in Udaipur? Every cup was perfection—smooth, comforting, and made exactly how I like it (after a few instructions, of course). Imagine this: a warm cup in hand, the moonlight shimmering on the water, and majestic palaces standing tall around you. It wasn’t just tea—it was pure magic.

The moon itself was a star of the trip. Every night, it rose over the city with an effortless grace, lighting up the clear skies and reflecting off the tranquil lakes below. Its beauty was almost hypnotic, making every evening feel like an ode to quiet wonder.

And then there were the flowers. Bright, vibrant, and blooming everywhere, they added splashes of color to every corner of the city. Whether cascading over walls or lining pathways, their beauty was a reminder of nature’s quiet ability to charm.

Sunsets, Reflections, and Palaces

If Udaipur’s nights are enchanting, its evenings are nothing short of breathtaking. The sunsets here are some of the most stunning I’ve ever seen. The sky transforms into a canvas of gold, orange, and pink, casting its hues over the city and its lakes. Watching the sun dip behind the Aravalli Hills, with its colors spilling across the water, was a sight I’ll never forget.

And then there are the palaces—grandeur personified. Built centuries ago, without the technology or machinery we rely on today, these architectural marvels are stories etched in stone. The intricate carvings, the sprawling courtyards, the attention to every detail—each palace whispers tales of royalty and vision.

The lakes, too, play their part. They don’t just surround the palaces—they become a part of their beauty. Whether in the soft glow of morning, the blazing light of day, or the fading hues of sunset, the lakes reflect the palaces in a way that feels like a work of art in constant motion.

Savoring the Flavors of Udaipur

Food in Udaipur is an adventure in itself, and for someone with a Marwari palate, it was an absolute delight. From ghee-rich daal baati churma to flavorful kair sangri, lehsan ki sabzi, and even papad ki sabzi, every meal felt like a warm embrace of tradition.

And yet, even something as simple as Maggi became special here. On a cool day, steaming noodles, I found joy in the simplicity of the moment.

Sukhadia Circle, with its small shops serving everything from chaat to sweets, was another highlight. And for fine dining with a view, places like Amrai and Darikhana at Jag Mandir combined delicious food with unforgettable settings. Eating by the lake, with palaces glowing in the distance, is an experience that elevates every bite.

Rajasthan in Rhythm

Udaipur’s cultural heartbeat comes alive in its folk dances and music. Watching Ghoomar, with its flowing skirts and graceful circles, is an unforgettable sight. The vibrant costumes and rhythmic movements create a spellbinding visual treat.

Dhola Maaru, a hauntingly beautiful ballad of love, struck a deep chord. Even without understanding every word, the melody felt universal, carrying emotions that transcend language.

What made these performances even more magical was the setting. Whether by a tranquil lakeside or within the historic courtyards of a palace, the atmosphere added layers of depth to every note and movement. It wasn’t just entertainment—it was immersion into Rajasthan’s living traditions.

Lakes and Legacy

The man-made lakes of Udaipur are a marvel of both beauty and ingenuity. Built centuries ago to meet the water needs of this arid city, they are lifelines disguised as romance. Whether it’s the iconic Lake Pichola, with its serene waters mirroring the palaces, or the picturesque Fateh Sagar Lake, framed by rolling hills, each one adds to Udaipur’s timeless allure.

The museums in Udaipur are equally captivating. The City Palace Museum offers an intimate glimpse into the lives of the maharajas, with its intricate designs and rich history. The Vintage Car Museum is a treasure trove of rare automobiles, each one telling its own story of elegance and style. And the Crystal Gallery? It’s beyond words—chandeliers and artifacts so exquisite they feel almost otherworldly.

A City That Stays with You

Udaipur isn’t just a place you visit; it’s a place you feel. Its lakes, palaces, food, and music weave a story that stays with you long after you leave. Meeting Lakshyaraj Ji added another layer to this journey—a chance to connect with the legacy of the Mewar dynasty and reflect on the values that continue to shape this historic city.

As I left, I realized that Udaipur isn’t just a destination—it’s a reminder of how deeply art, culture, and history can touch our lives.

When a Series Became My Unexpected Lifesaver

Picture this: you’re drowning in an ocean of thoughts, and the shore is nowhere in sight. It’s not the majestic kind of ocean we see on Instagram reels. No, this is the relentless, chaotic sea of an overactive, restless mind. Concentration slips away, irritability grows claws, and your favorite books, shows, and even people seem unappealing, distant. You’re caught somewhere between anxiousness and inertia—trapped in a limbo of your own making. And, honestly, you’re not sure what it will take to break free.

Then, as if sensing the tides within, someone close nudges (okay, more like pushes) you to watch a particular series. You roll your eyes, but something in you listens. “Fine,” you think. “It’s just one episode.” At first, you watch with reluctance, slightly annoyed even—why this, of all things, when you can’t focus on anything else? But for the love of that person, you start watching. Soon enough, episode one turns into episode two. Somewhere around episode three, you start noticing the quiet hum of calm returning. And with that, you realize the chaos in your mind is slowly retreating to the background. Healing, as reluctant as it began, is underway.

For me, that healing came through watching Kabhi Main Kabhi Tum, which quickly became my accidental anchor. This show isn’t just a romantic drama; it’s a world of characters who, despite their flaws, grapple with love, ambition, and vulnerability with heart and humor. Sharjeena, a character full of practicality and intellect, somehow managed to soothe my own scattered thoughts with her steady resilience. Mustafa, the somewhat laid-back, unhurried spirit, was like that reminder to breathe when life feels like it’s rushing too fast. Their interactions—a blend of wit, misunderstanding, and undeniable chemistry—brought a lightness to my mind, making me smile when I hadn’t for a while. Together, they began to replace my own overthinking with their messy, real, yet endearing way of stumbling through life.

What’s intriguing is that this effect, as life-changing as it feels, isn’t just in my head. Psychologists call it Distraction Theory, which is the concept of redirecting the mind’s focus away from troubling thoughts by giving it something else to engage with. Distraction theory isn’t about avoiding problems forever—it’s a way to create mental breathing room. When I immersed myself in Kabhi Main Kabhi Tum, my mind had something new to chew on, and the noise began to fade. The series became an emotional palate cleanser, helping me return to myself a little steadier than before.

Then there’s Narrative Transportation Theory, a fascinating idea that explains what happens when we become fully absorbed in a story. Imagine watching a show so captivating that, for a while, your worries feel like they’re part of a different reality. As I delved into the world of Kabhi Main Kabhi Tum, its drama, characters, and plot twists became a world where I could rest my own worries. Psychologically, this immersion is powerful—it’s almost like visiting a world outside of your own, offering a refreshing mental reset without the need for elaborate escapes or forced relaxation.

In the realm of management, there’s also the concept of Emotional Resilience—the ability to recover from life’s challenges with a sense of calm and adaptability. Watching the characters in Kabhi Main Kabhi Tum stumble, recover, and find joy despite their own issues had a subtle effect on me, like a gentle reminder of my own ability to bounce back. It was as if their resilience reminded me of my own, and with each episode, I felt better equipped to face my own day. The show built my resilience, episode by episode, encouraging me to regain balance with a little less effort than before.

And then there are friends who are our lifelines, sometimes in understated ways. They may not storm in with grand gestures or “fix” everything, but they are there, unwavering and patient. The friend who nudged me toward Kabhi Main Kabhi Tum was exactly this kind of presence: always there, quietly persistent, and deeply intuitive. She knew that words or advice weren’t what I needed—just a nudge, a push to something soothing and steady. These friends are the kind of people you reach out for in life’s storms, a steady hand when everything else feels like it’s slipping. They may not be shouting encouragement, but they’re like the firm stick you hold onto, even when you’re not quite sure how to keep going. I can’t help but feel grateful for the simplicity and depth of that kind of support.

What’s magical about moments like these is how they remind us that healing doesn’t always come in grand gestures or planned retreats. Sometimes, it arrives quietly, disguised as a beloved series that makes you laugh, cringe, or even cry a little. In a safe space, without pressure or expectations, you can start finding pieces of yourself again.

Kabhi Main Kabhi Tum didn’t just give me an escape; it gently encouraged me to re-engage with the world outside my thoughts. It was a lifeline that reminded me of the comfort in storytelling, the power of stepping back, and the beautiful surprise of discovering healing in the most unexpected places.

In short, sometimes it’s not about facing your problems head-on. Sometimes, it’s about sitting back, turning on a good series, and letting your mind wander just enough to come back to you, lighter and a little more at peace. So, here’s to the shows that save us—and to the friends who know exactly what we need—even when we don’t know it ourselves.

A Country Called Childhood

When reading "A Country Called Childhood- A Memoir" by Deepti Naval, I became nostalgic and reminisced about my childhood. I recall the Shree Ji stores in Ramgarh which used to be my favorite shop. It rented out comics for Re 1 a day. Sometimes 4-5 Amar Chitra Katha or other comic books would be bound together and they would charge a slightly higher amount for renting it. Ramgarh did not have a library and that store filled the gap for me. They also had various candies and gift items that used to fascinate me.

I also recall the samosas and sweets of Rajasthan Kalewalaya and their dahi kachori on special occasions. Later, when I was slightly older, they started selling a sweet called Madhuchakra that became my favorite.

Priya Sweets was for special occasions. Especially when I went to the main road and the elder accompanying me was in a good mood and had a few extra rupees to indulge me. There used to be the occasional curry puff, pineapple pastry, and beetroot cutlet.

Then Mangal Singh's shop was perhaps the most aspirational shop. You went there to buy an odd pencil box or water bottle. But there were so many things I liked. There used to be games, fancy tiffin boxes, or water bottles, that were often out of bounds.

For as long as I recall, we bought dresses only from National Stores. It was a very fancy store for it's times. It looked glossy, clean, and neatly arranged. We bought very few dresses but bought only from there. In hindsight, it seems like a lesson in quality over quantity.

One distinct memory I have of Ramgarh during my growing up years is the mela that used to be put up every year during December and would go on till Jan 26th. It used to have the Maut ka kuan, the Ferris wheel, a circus, and various shops selling toys, clothes, utensils, etc. There is a memory of buying iron utensils such as kadhai and tawa from there on more than one occasion and getting the knives sharpened. I also remember buying Khaja- a sweet- that I used to love eating, from there. Mounds of colourful sweets on both sides of the road. But we would buy the Khaja and occasionally Balushahi. I remember going to this mela 3-4 times during the one month that it was there, every year.

Another favorite shop of mine was Sishu Gyan Kendra, and later its sister concern, Gyan Bharti. We would go there for all our stationery, notebooks, and books. I remember the rolls of brown covers and the carefully selected book-label stickers. It used to be a big exercise before the beginning of every new class and before the summer vacations ended. 3-4 people at home would be involved in covering all books and notebooks with those brown papers. I still remember the feel and the smell of the newly covered books and notebooks.

Another place I remember is the fruit market, just off the main road. I remember going to that market with my father on the bike and occasionally with my mother or aunts on rickshaw.

There was one dosa wala on Main Road. I recall everyone saying that his sambhar was awful. It used to look a dirty yellowish brown rather than a bright yellowish-reddish-brownish that good sambhars are supposed to look. I also remember it used to have mashed pumpkin. And I hated pumpkin. But somehow, the taste of that sambhar lingers in my mind. Fondly. I used to finish it. Perhaps because eating outside food was a rare treat. And dosa in Ramgarh was a rare treat, unlike in the South of the country where it is a staple.

Another vivid memory is the movie dialogues echoing from a shop behind our home in Saudagar Mohalla. Now, as I listen to books on Audible, I appreciate that even movie dialogues can be listened to. Back then, however, I couldn't fully understand why anyone would want to listen to movie dialogues.

The Deepti Naval memoir sent me down my own memory lane. I am surprised at the memories that the mind stores. 

And of course, I also revisited the three all-time favorite movies of her- Chashme Buddoor, Saath Saath, and Kisi se na Kehna. She will always be Miss Chamko for me.

An Unmissable Journey For Family Business Owners & Scholars

This review was first published in the Family Business United on August 22, 2023; https://www.familybusinessunited.com/post/an-unmissable-journey-for-family-business-owners-scholars

About the book:

The Cartiers is the revealing tale of a jewelry dynasty's four generations, from revolutionary France to the 1970s. At its heart are the three Cartier brothers whose motto was 'Never copy, only create' and who made their family firm internationally famous in the early days of the twentieth century, thanks to their unique and complementary talents: Louis, the visionary designer who created the first men's wristwatch to help an aviator friend tell the time without taking his hands off the controls of his flying machine; Pierre, the master dealmaker who bought the New York headquarters on Fifth Avenue for a double-stranded natural pearl necklace; and Jacques, the globe-trotting gemstone expert whose travels to India gave Cartier access to the world's best rubies, emeralds, and sapphires, inspiring the celebrated Tutti Frutti jewelry.

Francesca Cartier Brickell, whose great-grandfather was the youngest of the brothers, has traveled the world researching her family's history, tracking down those connected with her ancestors and discovering long-lost pieces of the puzzle along the way. Now she reveals never-before-told dramas, romances, intrigues, betrayals, and more.

The Cartiers also offers a behind-the-scenes look at the firm's most iconic jewelry- the notoriously cursed Hope Diamond, the Romanov emeralds, the classic panther pieces, and the long line of stars from the worlds of fashion, film, and royalty who wore them, from Indian maharajas and Russian grand duchesses to Wallis Simpson, Coco Chanel, and Elizabeth Taylor.

Published in the two-hundredth anniversary year of the birth of the dynasty's founder, Louis-François Cartier, this book is a magnificent, definitive, epic social history shown through the deeply personal lens of one legendary family.

Review:

Francesca Cartier Brickell's magnum opus, "The Cartiers," creates an enthralling narrative that captivated me from the very beginning. As I delved into the book, I felt part of the Cartier family, standing shoulder to shoulder with the family members and the illustrious figures that shaped their history. The author masterfully blends historical facts with personal accounts, transporting the readers to the grand salons and dazzling soirées of the Belle Époque, where the Cartiers' creations adorned the crème de la crème of society.

This book is an enchanting exploration of family, business, artistry, and the timeless allure of the Cartier legacy, the brilliance of a dynasty that, while no longer owned by the family, continues to thrive as a testament to their enduring legacy. This must-read book offers invaluable insights and profound lessons for family business owners and scholars, making it an essential addition to any family business library.

The book delves into the heart of family dynamics, the unique opportunities, and challenges that being a family business pose. The nuances of sibling camaraderie, complex relationships between cousins, shared vision and family governance, and the circumstances leading to selling the family members' stake in the business, have been poignantly narrated.

I can safely say that I have read thousands (at least a thousand plus some more) of books in my lifetime. Many of them are good. Few are extraordinary. And a handful are books that transported me to being a witness to the journey, the story. Buddenbrooks by Thomas Mann was one such book. The Cartiers is the other. While it is not right to compare both, they are both magnificent in their own right. One significant difference is that Buddenbrooks is fiction, while the Cartiers is reality! And the reality is stranger rather more interesting than fiction in this case.

In this fan-girl account and book review, I dwell upon my journey with the Cartiers in the following paragraphs. In the process, I highlight a few aspects where Cartiers provide living proof of the theories in family businesses.

Traveling back in time

One of the book's most compelling aspects is the portrayal of iconic personalities who adorned Cartier's jewels. From Princess Grace of Monaco to the incomparable Elizabeth Taylor, their stories intertwine with the history of the pieces they wore, elevating them to objects of profound significance, and transporting the readers to the world of passion, resilience, opulence, and elegance.

Brickell's meticulous research and intimate family anecdotes allowed me to travel back in time to participate in the Cartier journey. I was there when the fire broke out in the Cartier store leading monsieur Louis-François Cartier to be risk averse. I felt his pain when his only son Alfred traveled to the US, and he pined to be reunited with him. I witnessed Alfred convincing his eldest son, Louis, to marry a Worth as it would benefit Cartier's name and business. I celebrated with Alfred when Jean-Jacques Cartier, his first grandson, was born (albeit with a tinge of guilt. But I had traveled back in time to 1919, you see! I can't really blame myself for being a part of the patriarchal society back then).

I rooted for Jacques to return to the business. I cried out aloud. "Oh, come on, Jacques. Cartiers needs you. Come back soon." I felt one with Elma and Nelly, like the third band of the Trinity ring.

I witnessed the Eiffel Tower being unveiled and felt the anxiety of Pierre and Nelly aboard a ship from New York to London when they heard of the Titanic sinking. I traveled to the durbars of the Gaekwads and the Nizam of Hyderabad with Jacques.

When Jacques passed away, I sobbed uncontrollably. I felt the pain of Nelly and Jean-Jacques. I paid my obeisance to the genius of Louis. I felt the loneliness of Pierre, who lost both his brothers within a year.

Adapting on the go

The Cartiers' journey mirrors the ever-changing landscape of world society, as their creations adorned monarchs, celebrities, and the crème de la crème of society. Good jewelry touches every who's who, from the Czarinas to the Kings, the Nizams, the businessmen, Elizabeth Taylor, the Beatles, Elton John, and more recently, Deepika Padukone.

As demonstrated in their successful multi-national transatlantic operations, the Cartiers' ability to embrace change and adapt to evolving markets aligns with the "Dynamic Capabilities" theory, allowing them to thrive through turbulent times. As the Romanovs fell and the bodice gave way for practical clothes for women, as the war raged and even the wealthy preferred a more austere way of life, as the Maharajas in India paved the way for democracy and the rare pearls gave way to cultured pearls, the Cartiers kept adapting through their designs, prices, and products.

Expression of feelings and archiving

Francesca Cartier Brickell found a trunk of letters in her grandfather's cellar. These letters formed an important source of information for her book. The letters provided her with the raw emotions expressed by the writer. When Louis-Francois wrote to his son Alfred, "I don't need to tell you that I long for your return. You and I are inseparable…," we can feel him pine for his son. I could imagine Pierre fuming when he wrote to his nephew, Claude, "…the consequences, serious for you and regrettable for us."

While the means of communication have increased, they have become instant, will future generations have such words of expression to recreate the journeys of the 21^st century, which will be history in the future? Will we have saved WhatsApp messages and phone calls? Do the torchbearers of business families today express themselves so openly through emails? The reality is not lost on any of us.  

We are in touch more but express less. We talk more but communicate less. We write more words, but they mean less. We have more storage, but we have no records of emotions.

The book is a testament to the importance of writing, expressing, and archiving. This art is dwindling and will cost legacy building dearly in centuries to come.

Familiness and Resources

At its core, "The Cartiers" is a profound exploration of the power of family unity and vision in shaping a lasting legacy. The Cartiers' unwavering belief in brotherhood and collaboration embodies the concept of "familiness," where the family's collective strengths drive their entrepreneurial endeavors to remarkable heights.

The book delves into the heart of the Cartier family, exposing their triumphs and tribulations, successes, and challenges. Brickell brings forth the complexity of family dynamics, painting a vivid picture of their relationships and the impact of their shared passion for jewelry. The interplay of personalities between the Cartier brothers – Louis, Pierre, and Jacques – was a driving force behind their success, where creative vision, sales acumen, and financial acuity converged harmoniously. It propelled them through challenging times, navigating global conflicts, economic downturns, or changing consumer preferences.

On one occasion, Pierre recognises their strength, "We brothers are very close, that is our strength" (pg 131). Jean-Jacques added, "Pierre was a brilliant businessman. He didn't have Louis' creative vision, but then again, Louis didn't have Pierre's ability for selling or his understanding of finance... But Pierre understood the markets and he understood people's motivations. Cartier needed the mix of different talents, you see, that was one of the reasons that it did so well" (pg 243).

It's not that the brothers did not have differences or fights. They did. "The trade knew how tight the Cartier brothers were. That was important. It was one of their strengths-when dealing with one, you were actually dealing with all three. They had a lot more bargaining power that way", said Jean- Jacques (pg 330). This crucial lesson in unity is a beacon for any business family seeking to thrive across generations.

The Cartiers also demonstrate the resources acquired through marriage in a family business. All three sons of Alfred Cartier, and Alfred himself, married into families that benefited the Cartier business. The strategic alliances forged through marriage enhanced their reputation and helped them build strong family social capital. The Cartiers' embrace of such unions underscores the importance of carefully curated partnerships and their role in building lasting success.

Family governance and togetherness

In 1906, "Not wanting any arguments between his sons, Alfred had a dispute resolution clause built into the firm's constitutional documents. If there was a disagreement between Louis and Pierre, the matter should be resolved by either Alfred or, interestingly, Louis' father-in-law, Jean-Philippe Worth." There was even a family council in place. Most business families don't have a stated dispute resolution mechanism or a constitution, even today! They must have one! The Cartiers' shareholding also changed and kept up with the growing multi-national transatlantic operations.

However, the presence of family governance mechanisms did not prevent the Cartiers from eventually selling off their stake in the firm. I think one reason the family sold out their stake was the dwindling bond within the fourth-generation members, their bond with the business, and the passion to keep it in the family.

The fourth generation of the Cartiers grew up apart due to the third generation primarily living in three different far-off cities. They did not have the same bond as the third generation, which had grown up together. Brickell laments, "But whereas three close brothers with complementary talents could survive the storms life threw at them, from a huge global conflict to a great depression, the cousins, lacking the same bond and shared upbringing, found the challenges of the postwar world overwhelming" (pg 539).

I also felt the pressure on Claude, Marion and Claudel, and Jean- Jacque to live up to their predecessors. Each one of them handled it differently. The tussle between Pierre and Claudel was unfortunate. But who was wrong, and who was right? I felt anger towards Claudel, but could I blame him for being different from the rest of the flock? I could feel the weight on his shoulders and the rebellion, perhaps because of it.

In the end, family bonding, pride in the family name, and shared values keep the family and the business together. Brickell wonders, "Perhaps, as a unified family, the Cartiers might have adapted to the changes sweeping through the luxury world, but apart and alone, they could not" (pg 536). Perhaps. It is difficult to say in hindsight. But I would like to believe it too.

From the time Louis shifted to the US, accounts of his lifestyle there did not leave me with a good feeling. After that, the sale of New York and Paris branches did not surprise me. The writing was on the wall, in a sense. His last will and testament read, "Division in families creates ruin and misery. I command my heirs to maintain harmony among themselves and with their cousins " (pg 381). Unfortunately, Louis' caution could not prevent the sale of the New York Maison by his son, the first nail in the coffin.

Resilience

The book weaves through tumultuous events such as the World Wars, the sinking of the Titanic, and the great depression, where unforeseen circumstances and personal emotions intertwined with the fate of the business. Their united front and complementary talents fuelled their resilience through trying times.

I shared the family's despair as the war raged, with Jean Jacques on military service, Louis and Jacques not keeping well, important clients fleeing from London, Paris, and as America joined the war. I watched in horror as Milton Heath was bombed.

This period seemed so much like the Covid times. Family members worrying about each other, and businesses shut down completely. I would probably not have understood or related to what the Cartiers were going through if I had not lived through the Covid era.

The Cartiers survived these periods and came out stronger each time due to their vision, passion, innovative strategies, and togetherness.

Innovation

From a humble beginning in Paris to the global prominence of the brand, the Cartiers built an empire, one gemstone at a time. The Cartiers' unwavering dedication to craftsmanship and their innate ability to cater to the desires of royalty and celebrities alike are portrayed with such vividness that it's almost palpable. Their creations become more than just jewelry; they transform into symbols of love, power, and human emotion.

Louis's "Never copy, only create" mantra ran through the entire organization, irrespective of the location and the brother handling the business. The Cartiers' devotion to their craft and innovative spirit is encapsulated in their iconic creations, such as the Trinity ring and the Tank watch, which symbolize enduring love and timeless elegance.

While change is the only constant, and the Cartiers kept adapting to the changing customer preferences, the Cartier style remained a constant.

Other stakeholders

Brickell's attention to detail illuminates the family's commitment to their craft, evident in their unwavering focus on quality and customer relationships. I traveled alongside the Cartiers and witnessed their interactions with esteemed clients. These accounts underscore the importance of nurturing relationships with customers and the role of exceptional service in elevating a family business to new heights.

The book also delves into the profound impact of dedicated employees, showcasing how their passion and loyalty contributed to Cartier's reputation for unparalleled craftsmanship. The Cartiers' commitment to nurturing a talented and loyal workforce exemplifies the "Family Human Capital" concept, where family members' and employees' shared values and dedication contribute to the company's sustainable growth.

All three brothers relied heavily on their loyal employees, entrusting them with substantial responsibilities and giving them a free hand to run the business. The Cartier brothers empowered their team and nurtured a culture of excellence. Allowing them to excel in their roles and contribute to the company's growth was instrumental in building long-term success for the family firm. I deeply appreciated the role of employees like Toussaint, Jacqueau, Muffat, Glaezner, Hasey, Bellenger, Devaux, and many more in keeping the Cartier flag flying high in war and peace, in times of family unity and otherwise.

At one time during my journey with Pierre Cartier, I asked him incredulously if Jules Glaezner actually arranged for the stars of a hotly anticipated play to wear Cartier jewels on stage during their performance, then invited "several carefully selected clients, to attend the performance in a special box with him"? Glaenzer had actually selected the jewels for the actors with these clients' tastes in mind. After the show, he went backstage with his guests to meet the actors and collect the necklaces, bandeaux, and bracelets. He then announced that carrying such a huge amount of valuable jewelry would be too risky. Instead, he proposed that each of his female guests select an item to wear for the remainder of the evening and that he would collect it from each of them the following morning. He then took his guests out to a nightclub, where, as intended, their jewels were much admired. The next day, a Cartier delivery boy called at the guests' homes for the jewelry only to find that each woman had decided to buy what she had been wearing the previous evening (pg 253-254).

It was usual for multiple generations of the same family to work at Cartier. Many Cartier employees in all three branches worked for them for decades.

Indian connection

Being an Indian, I cannot but devote a sub-section to the role the Indian Maharajas played in the Cartier's rise. Though, it's not without the realisation that it was the period when the struggle for independence from British rule was underway, and the grandeur of the Indian royalties seems misplaced. But then, really, who am I to judge?

The book's portrayal of the Indian Maharajas and their penchant for extravagant jewels adds a mesmerizing facet to the Cartiers' journey. I traversed the opulent durbars of the Gaekwads, the Nizam of Hyderabad, the Maharaja of Patiala, and the Maharaja of Nawanagar, alongside Jacques. Jacques's escapades to India seem like a dream. Imagine him bringing his Rolls Royce to India! I am thinking of his Rolls Royce on roads where there were no roads!

India was once called the "golden bird," and the intertwining of the Cartier's legacy with the wealth and grandeur of Indian royalties was, therefore, no surprise. Yet, the extent left me gaping in awe. When Muffat was summoned by the Maharaja of Patiala, Maharaja Bhupinder Singh, and he opened one gem after another from a trunk full of gems, Paul Muffat tried to hide his awe. I did not. I stood there with my mouth open!

Conclusion

I read the book with a childlike awe and wonder. I did not want the book to end. Francesca Cartier Brickell's extraordinary narrative has etched an indelible mark on my soul, allowing me to traverse time with the Cartiers, witnessing their triumphs and sharing their heartaches. When I stood alongside Brickell at the crypt, my eyes were wet. I felt the connection with the Cartier ancestors more deeply than she would have realised that any reader would.

For family business scholars, "The Cartiers" is a treasure trove of examples that compliments the theories. The book offers a rich tapestry of the Cartiers' experiences, exploring topics such as familiness, succession planning, intergenerational collaboration, the role of communication in maintaining family harmony, family constitution, and the intersection of family and business values. These lessons provide a unique opportunity for scholars to delve into the complexities of family enterprises and draw inspiration from a remarkable family business and the family that created and nurtured it.

For the family business owners, "The Cartiers" is a timeless journey that will speak directly to them, offering a profound understanding of the enduring power of unity, passion, and vision. They will find themselves nodding in recognition in many places as if looking into a mirror reflecting their experiences. It provides invaluable lessons, and a poignant reminder of the lasting impact a family's commitment can have on generations to come.

In conclusion, "The Cartiers" by Francesca Cartier Brickell is an exquisite literary gem that navigates the depths of family business dynamics with grace and insight. I have read numerous books on business families. But none is as exquisite, fascinating, and emotional as the journey of the renowned Cartier family through the ages!

Of Sultan, Succession, and Family Businesses

It is no secret that I am a Bollywood aficionado. Until a few years ago, I claimed that I watched 95% of all released Hindi movies. That statement no longer holds as I have gotten busier, and the number of movies released yearly has also increased. Like many other things, I cannot keep up and often prioritise. Though, I make it a point not to miss any top releases. I even watched Lal Singh Chaddha on the big screen (please imagine the cringing emoji)!

"Kisi ka bhai kisi ki jaan" was released on Eid this year, as most of Salman Bhai's movies do. I had a serious conversation with myself. After much deliberation, I decided to give it a miss. I guess the decision itself was a no-brainer. The question troubling me was, "Will I still qualify as a Bollywood junkie if I gave it a miss?" Guess some questions are best left unanswered.

For old-time's sake and all the Salman Khan movies I have enjoyed, I decided to revisit Sultan. I must say that I thoroughly enjoyed watching it. I keep re-watching a few movies, especially when I am short of time and know precisely what I want to watch. Somehow, while Chak De and Dangal are top of the list of movies I have watched the maximum number of times, Sultan never made it to that list. I shall correct this miss now.

So, I started watching Sultan. The movie starts with a boardroom scene. Aakash Oberoi (Amit Sadh), son of billionaire industrialist Gyan Singh Oberoi (Parikshit Sahni), was struggling to convince investors to support him for another six months. Aakash was convinced about the potential of Pro-Takedown Wrestling. However, Cricket seemed to be the only sport that pulled the public in India. He had only six months to prove himself. Here, a scene caught my attention, which I missed in 2016, when I watched it in the theatre, as I missed the movie's first 10-15 minutes. Also, my family business antenna is much more sensitive now.

Back to Sultan. It is a conversation between the father and the son in the Pro-Takedown arena.

Aakash tells his father, "Dad, you were right. This sport has no future."

[Lesson 1: The older generation has the experience and should not be written off, even if they do not have fancy degrees.]

Gyan replies, "There is a future. You just cannot see it."

[Lesson 2: Once the next-gen admits their older generation was right, they are again proven wrong. At this point, the older generation comes all out to support the venture by the next-gen.]

In a contemplative mood, Aakash replies, "You know, this sport is a hit worldwide. Westerners are crazy for it."

Gyan counters, "We are not Westerners. This is the problem with your generation. Everything important seems 'cool' to you."

[Lesson 3: Understand the local market.]

A confused Aakash asks, "What are you trying to say, Dad?"

Gyan explains, "I am trying to say that this sport does have a future in India. But not in the hands of Westerners. India is a country with different values. It is a country where own people, relationships, and patriotism are valued. When an Indian really beats a white man in this stadium, that is when all your seats will fill up."

[Lesson 4: Appeal to the emotions of people.]

Of course, the rest of the movie is about how Sultan (Salman Khan) goes on to win the Pro-Takedown Wrestling championship. And how Gyan is proud of his son, Aakash.

The scene that I have narrated above seemed so natural. I could visualise family business leaders having such conversations with their scions. It is common for them to oppose an idea if they do not understand it. However, it is also common for parents in India to go all out to support their children once children have jumped into something. The investors come on board because of the family's reputation and connections. The next generation faces steep media scrutiny as they are constantly compared to their successful parents. The previous generation's experience is readily available and invaluable (Gyan suggested to Aakash that he should get Sultan to compete).

Furthermore, a peer group that can extend support when needed (like getting sponsorship for Sultan from Kukreja, a friend). In short, a rich resources basket. The movie also depicts how the next generation is conscious about losing money, living up to expectations, and making their own mark. It is not easy for them.

The reason the scene between Gyan and Aakash struck a chord and stayed with me long enough for me to write this piece is that I have been watching season 4 of the popular HBO series Succession. Even though the first three seasons were nowhere close to how Indian business families are, in my humble opinion. Watch out for another article on the series "Succession" and Indian business families. Coming soon!

As Gyan said, "We are not Westerners." It is time our producers, directors, and scriptwriters came up with an indigenous "Succession" series. I hope someone is listening. Bollywood!

Resetting of Conscience, Priorities, and Emotions

Book: To Hell and Back: Humans of COVID

Author: Barkha Dutt

Price: 699/-

Pages: 288

Year: 2022

Publisher: Juggernaut Books, India

Usually, I have a wisecrack to crack on every occasion. Today, I have none. Even my posts post getting Covid in the second wave in May 2021, were full of humour [Post 1 Post 2]. I was able to laugh at myself. Not today. My pain, my experiences, seem too small today.

Sometime in April 2022, I ordered and got Barkha Dutt’s book, To Hell and Back: Humans of COVID. I was reluctant to start reading it, even though I wanted to. I didn’t want to refresh the memories of what I went through. But finally, I did start reading it last week [3^rd week of July, 2022].

There were a lot of things I reminisced while reading the book. Like wondering, during the period that I was hospitalized, that how would someone who doesn’t know someone get a bed like I had? What if the oxygen supply ran out? What if I was taken to the hospital a couple of hours later? And many such questions.

During that period, I knew of a junior, who had a two-year-old kid, not reaching the hospital on time, and then not even getting a proper funeral. I knew of an uncle who was brilliant and taught me accounts but did not get the right treatment. My thoughts lingered on an aunt who was never diagnosed with Covid but had all the symptoms and passed away soon after. I remember questioning that why did I deserve to live when they could not be saved?

Post Covid, suffering from Long Covid- chronic insomnia, anxiety, hair loss, pain in the bones, palpitations- I constantly battled my symptoms and tried to be normal and move on. Barkha Dutt describes my conversation with her on the Mojo Story on page 255 of her book. She calls me Nutan Banga. When I started reading the book, I realized that I had really moved on.

Barkha Dutt’s book is a solemn reminder of what the pandemic was and gives us a view that none of us could have had individually. The experience of a migrant labourer was very different from the experiences of a cow herder from that of a funeral service provider, to a doctor, and to a well-connected upper-class person, like she herself is. The inequalities that she has presented in her book, even in the way one faced death, are unimaginable to people like us who live in urban bubbles, disconnected from the grassroots, disconnected from our roots, and disconnected from how people outside such bubbles live.

I went to Kundli once and enjoyed the Murthal parathas with white butter and daal makhana. But did I know about the toxic yellow water that the people of this village got? No. The water that caused serious skin diseases, how would they drink that water when even buying drinking water became difficult? 

Or consider the corpses of 20 tribal migrant workers who were so exhausted from all the walking that they went to sleep on the railway tracks where “they thought they would not be noticed or disturbed by the police. A goods train ran over them an hour later.” [Pg38] A chill went up my spine.

Most of us were helpless in the case of covid deaths to a large extent. Whether it was the availability of beds in the hospitals, medicines, oxygen, testing, what could most of us do? How could I help the migrants or those who lost their jobs? Sonu Sood did it. Many others did. But let’s just say that I am a more ordinary person. At least it was a good excuse to console myself. But I could not stop my tears for a long time when I read about Aishwarya.

The girl from Shadnagar, 50kms from Hyderabad, Aishwarya, committed suicide. She committed suicide because her parents could not afford to buy her a laptop or a smart phone to continue her education. “If I can’t study, I can’t live”, she wrote in her suicide note [pg 233-234]. Probably because of the geographical proximity, probably because she got an admission at the Lady Shri Ram College despite the poverty and circumstances, probably because I feel strongly for the cause of girl education, my tears would just not stop. Could I have helped if I knew what she was going through? Would I have helped? The fact is that I did nothing. Not for her. Not for anyone.

I would gladly give away all my hair if I could save Aishwarya.

The pandemic was sudden, but not improbable. Bill Gates warned against “the next outbreak” in 2014. National Geographic warned of how deforestation was causing bats to have “no other option than to fly elsewhere in search of food, carrying with them a deadly disease” in a 2019 article. But the world at large was not prepared for the Covid19. Some events need to be prepared for due to the severity of their impact. The governments must build their Afsluitdijks to prepare for such events. The quantum of impact, the number of people impacted, the physical, emotional, economic, and societal disruption is of catastrophic scale. Life cannot go back to normal.

To understand the severity of the catastrophe that Covid19 unleashed on humanity, each one of us should read the book. It will make us realise that there is life beyond our bubbles. While everyone’s sorrow and difficulties are exactly that- sorrows and difficulties- and thus, cannot be undermined, different situations have very different impact on the different strata of society. And in some cases, survival itself becomes a challenge.

Some books move you. Leave an indelible mark on you. And this is one such book. I am not going to comment on the writing style, what the government did or did not do, the organization of the chapters, etc. Sometimes, the message is far too important, the story is so powerful and compelling that how it is delivered doesn’t matter.

I cried many a times while reading the book, choked many times, sometimes just happy to be alive, while at the other times questioning why I was alive? What was I doing? And what am I going to do now? These questions are haunting me. Something in me changed after Covid. Something in me has changed again after reading this book.

“We don’t know about tomorrow,” said the horse, “all we need to know is that we love each other.”- Charlie Mackesy

Most of you might have read my experiences with Covid. If not, it can be read here https://npbang.blogspot.com/2021/05/up-close-and-personal.html

This blog post is about the last month, post-Covid, recovery phase. I will not repeat the things that I have already mentioned in the earlier post. And once again the disclaimer: It seems that the recovery process and timeline follow a long-tailed distribution. While many may have similar and expected experiences, many others have very different trajectories. It cannot be generalized. However, what is certain is, as Kabir said:

चलती चक्की देख के, दिया कबीरा रोये ।

दो पाटन के बीच में, साबुत बचा न कोए ।

That is, between a pair of quern stones, nobody remains whole. In the context of Covid, once contracted, however mild, nobody remains as they were before Covid. Physically as well as mentally.

Homecoming: My 11 years old daughter made a poster that depicted the corona virus being killed and welcomed me home with excitement. While I have always been very fond of my home and long to get back to it even if I am away for a couple of days, the emotions that the return from the hospital elicited were intense. Legs too weak to carry me to every corner, my eyes took in as much of home as they could.

It felt like the Shahrukh Khan entry scene from the movie Kabhi Khushi Kabhi Gham. Except that I came in a car. Not a helicopter. And my daughter had a poster in her hand to welcome me instead of a puja ka thaali for aarti.

In the Storm: The primary concern for the first week was weakness and constant monitoring of oxygen saturation levels. Weakness was severe and oxygen levels did drop at times after walking a few steps or sitting for some time. Unfortunately, in the second wave, possibilities of post-covid complications were likely. So apart from weakness and oxygen levels, even a slight cough, or a headache, or eye ache, or discomfort in breathing, or a pain in the stomach, were all symptoms of black fungus or pulmonary embolism or a stomach infection or could be indicative of something else. Mind was on high alert and noticed every single change in the body. It continues to be, as the threat of a secondary infection or heart related problems loom until a few months post covid.

Upon recommendation from a friend, I read this lovely book “The Boy, the Mole, the Fox and the Horse” by Charlie Mackesy a few days after coming back home. And loved these lines: “This storm is real, and our fear is real,” said the horse. “But our love is also real, and in the end, love wins.”

Also, these “This storm is making me tired,” said the boy. “Storms get tired too,” said the horse, “So hold on.”

Weakness: Two things helped me regain some basic level of strength in about 10 days. First, drinking lots and lots of fluids. About 5 litres a day; water, coconut water, freshly made juices, buttermilk, and ORS. I could feel the improvement each day and even the difference on a day I had lower levels of fluids. Second, the fact that I was relatively fitter and healthy. After about 10 days, the improvement was not perceptible on a daily basis, and the delta became smaller with each passing day. My fitness level is down to zero right now. It is as though I have never exercised in my life. It may be a couple of months more before I go back to my pre-covid levels of fitness and that would now require starting with some conscious exercises and training. Patience is the key.

धीरे-धीरे रे मना, धीरे सब कुछ होय ।

माली सींचे सौ घड़ा, ॠतु आए फल होय ।

As Kabir says, everything happens at its own pace. As a gardener may water the plants with a hundred buckets of water, but the fruits arrive only in its season, similarly, whatever you may do, have patience and you will see the fruits of your hard work.

Food: While in the hospital, I lost 5kgs weight. My skin became dry, lost all elasticity, appeared wrinkled and sagged. Just a couple of days after coming back home, my appetite suddenly went up. I regained some taste. And wanted to eat all the time. Even now, a month later, I feel like eating all the time. With increased appetite, the weight came back, and some more ☹. Here, I must say that I ate regular food that is cooked at home and did not make any attempt to eat healthier options that few people suggested. I included seasonal fruits (only mangoes, litchis and watermelons) and lots of fluids in my diet. The dryness of the skin has improved though it remains loose. Again, exercise should help with toning.

जिन खोजा तिन पाइया, गहरे पानी पैठ,

मैं बपुरा बूडन डरा, रहा किनारे बैठ

In these couplets, Kabir inspires us to work hard and seek. Those who search in deep waters, find something. Whereas those who sit at the fence for fear of drowning do not get anything. So, I must pursue fitness now and get rid of the fear that Covid has deep rooted in my mind, in order to get back to the pre-Covid level of fitness.

Anxiety and Insomnia: These two have been my companions frequently in the past as well. But I mostly had reasons to be anxious and could explain the sleeplessness. The frequency has now increased, and I have no reasons now.

मुझे नींद न आए, मुझे चैन न आए…

हालत क्या है कैसे तुझे बताऊँ मैं, करवट बदल-बदल के रात बिताऊँ मैं

पूछो ज़रा पूछो क्या हाल है, हाल मेरा बेहाल है

कोई समझ न पाए क्या रोग सताए…

This super hit song from the Madhuri Dixit and Amir Khan starrer movie Dil (1990) describes my state quite well. The problem is that it is very difficult to explain this to anyone. Why am I not sleeping? What is bothering me? Even I don’t know. I cannot explain. It is just an after effect of Covid.

Yes, I have tried counting 1 to 10 to calm my mind and breath; yes, I have tried deep breathing many times but did not fall asleep; yes, I have tried white noise and various apps; none of them worked. I just hope this is temporary.

Concentration and memory: I’m an academician, a researcher. A lot of what I do requires me to have a good memory, to pull out anecdotes, facts, numbers, and findings, that I might have read long ago, from the depths of my memory. People used to tell me that I have an elephant’s memory. I would remember the page number in a book where I read something interesting. I have had moments in the last few weeks when I have struggled to recall names and words. Similarly, I pride myself for my ability to concentrate even amid many distractions. The nature of my work requires me to concentrate. I am not able to watch or read for more than 2-3 minutes at a stretch now. I would be devastated if Covid has a long-lasting impact on either my concentration or memory. I hope not.

Compare this to the days when I was doing a PhD. I had flat mates who were working. They would come back from work and put on the TV or loud music and partied often at our flat. I could study with complete focus at those times too. Sometimes, when there were too many people around, I would go and sit in the balcony that faced the very busy Banjara Hills Road Number 3 (Hyderabad) and studied under the streetlight that lit a part of the balcony as well (the balcony itself had no bulb/tubelight). I could easily concentrate and study even with all the noise on the road.

How do you feel? I have no answer to this question. It is a seesaw. On one day I feel good, on the other very low. One day I have no perceptible issues, the very next day, I feel that there is a faint ache in my heart that needs investigation. Yesterday, I was laughing and joking with everyone, today, I just want to be quiet. I don’t know how to answer this question.

One of my all-time favorite movies is Hrithik Roshan and Preity Zinta starrer Lakshya (2004). Javed Akhtar wrote these lyrics that seemed more like a conversation with a best friend rather than a song and were beautifully given music to by Shankar, Ehsan and Loy.

अब मुझको ये है करना, अब मुझे वो करना है

आख़िर क्यूँ मैं ना जानूँ, क्या है कि जो करना है

लगता है अब जो सीधा, कल मुझे लगेगा उल्टा

देखो ना मैं हूँ जैसे, बिल्कुल उल्टा-पुल्टा

These lines play in my head every time someone asks me, “How are you feeling now?” or “How’s your recovery?” In my mind even my expressions are similar to those of Hrithik’s as he is dancing to this song. However, I keep a straight face and say, “I am doing quite well. Thank you.”

Covid Conversations: The most difficult part of recovery is to stay positive. Unfortunately, the time around which I had Covid, the cases were at their peak across the country. There were depressing news of people losing the battle, shortage of oxygen, medicines, beds, and deaths of people too close to home. Each day, the conversations around the morning tea inevitably shifted to Covid updates even though we started out saying that we will not talk about Covid. It had an impact on the mood at home, it seemed like there was nothing to look forward to and there was the survivor’s guilt as well as the reckoning that I had come so close to becoming “news” myself. From the time the number of cases has started coming down, there is a distinct positivity in my attitude and a desire to get well sooner. Even though it is difficult, staying positive helps.

Many songs of Kishore Kumar are brilliant. However, this one from Safar (1970) is perhaps one of his best (debatable of course).

ज़िन्दगी का सफ़र, है ये कैसा सफ़र

कोई समझा नहीं, कोई जाना नहीं

[The journey of life is incomprehensible. Nobody has been able to understand it]

The unpredictability of life has been amply demonstrated to us by Covid. However, it has also shown the helplessness of the humankind and made us accept life the way it is…

ये जीवन है, इस जीवन का

यही है, यही है, यही है रंगरूप

थोड़े ग़म हैं, थोड़ी खुशियाँ

यही है, यही है, यही है छाँव धूप

-      Piya Ka Ghar (1972), sung by Kishore Kumar

I hope this will be the concluding part of my experiences with Covid and nothing major, worth writing about, happens hence forth. I would like to end with a word of caution. I still see many people relying on cloth masks. I too wore them. In fact, I have them in all variety; Pochampally, Ikat, Madhubani, Kalamkari, with embroidery, in all colours to match my dresses. They are not at all adequate. Don’t let your guard down. Double mask up. Because it’s worth it!