India is a place everyone should visit at least once in
their lifetime. I was privileged to have had the opportunity to work out there
for two years, returning to the UK with unforgettable life experiences that
only India could offer.
From making an appearing on the live National TV awards
ceremony, presenting technology awards on stage (and unexpectedly becoming the
comedy highlight of the evening - more on that later) to witnessing a leopard
lazily looking at me one morning, as it sunbathed on the rocks opposite from
the other side of the River Ganges, my time in India felt more like an Indiana
Jones adventure than a business vocation.
During my time there I would sit directly behind a sulky Prince Andrew at a Quantel demo (watching him refuse to put his 3D glasses on), spend a few drunken evenings with
my old mates - the Exec team from BBC Sport as they were in Delhi with the
Commonwealth Games (and where half of the entire BBC crew went down with `Delhi
belly'), all the while developing a cast iron immune system myself, and
learning to cope with 55 degree heat.
I lived in a plush 4 bedroom apartment in Gurgaon, just
outside New Delhi. Once a small dusty agricultural village, Gurgaon has since
become the city with the third highest per capita income in India, harbouring
250 or 50% of the Fortune 500 companies.
My role in India was Sales Director for Vizrt, a
successful office of 15 people that had been established for at least five years
before I took over the reins, occupying a floor in a high-rise death trap of a rat-infested
building in Nehru Place - a large turbulent, commercial,
financial, and business district.
Nehru Place
I had not been working in
Delhi long before calling the sales team into my office to ask why there was no
shared calendar or meeting planner to view scheduled booked meetings with
clients. My query was met with bemused, puzzled expressions on the sales teams
faces, as though I had asked something alien. I knew the team were working
hard, going out daily to see clients. We had over 100 relatively satisfied broadcast
and production clients in India using Vizrt graphics, so business development,
account management and sales generation didn't seem to be a main concern. Yet I
couldn't understand why there were no scheduled meetings visible anywhere in
the office.
Booking Meetings with Clients
I asked one of the sales
team to book a trip to Mumbai, so we could visit his clients, which he then
planned for the following Monday. By the end of the week prior, on a Friday
afternoon, I asked who we would be seeing on Monday. `Don't worry', he said.
`It's all in hand.' I decided to remain passive and just sit back to observe for
this trip to Mumbai, reserving any judgement I had for later if necessary. When
Monday came at Delhi airport, there was still no planned schedule before we
took off. It was only once we arrived in Mumbai, and gathered our suitcases did
it suddenly become apparent how this trip would unfold. The sales person began
ringing clients up on his mobile. `Hi, are you free in the next half hour?
Great. see you then.' Then we would be off in a taxi for our meeting - and this would be
with senior management or CTO level.
Once the rest of the day unfolded in the same manner for
each meeting, I began to realise this is how you schedule meetings in India. My
thoughts were confirmed when I later bought a very good book by Paul Davies
called `What's This India Business?: Offshoring,
Outsourcing and The Global Services Revolution', which covers this very topic (slightly dated
now, but still highly recommended if you are planning to do business in India).
The general rule of thumb is, if you schedule a meeting one week in
advance, it most likely will not happen. If you plan it a couple of days in
advance, or even the day before, it is still not certain the meeting will take
place. The only real guarantee of a meeting is to ring the person and ask if
they are free in the next hour or so, and this can normally be at any level of
management within an organisation. I used to tell the sales team that back in
the UK I would have meetings scheduled sometimes three months in advance with
the likes of BBC or Sky, to which was met with some amusement, as they thought
I was joking!
If you observe the `rules' of the road when driving in India (at your
own peril), vehicles tend to give way to anything in front of them, but with
absolutely no regard to anything approaching from behind. It explains why most
cars posses no wing mirrors, and it also helps in some way explain the mindset
of how the country functions on this `here and now, live for today' philosophy.
If everyone follows this mindset, then somehow this apparently chaotic system isn't
that chaotic after all. It is more appropriately referred to as `organised chaos'
by many expats living there.
Project Timescales
Obviously this mindset can conflict with the kinds of
meticulous Gant charts and long term Prince II project planning that we are
used to in the UK. I remember visiting a potential new client in Bangalore, who
was the newly appointed CTO for the launch of a politically funded news channel
(there are plenty of these agenda-driven start-ups in India, that often go bust
within a few months). Our meeting took place in nothing more than a concrete
shell, that would eventually become the broadcast facility. I asked when they
hoped to be on-air, to which he replied `August'. As it was the month of May when
this meeting took place, I presumed, with my UK hat on, that he meant August
the following year. `No', he replied. `August this year.' What is more
staggering, is that these ridiculously ambitious timescales do actually work in
India. Yes, the TV station was built and fully functional within a couple of
months, but was it built to the high safety specs and standards we are used to
in the West? Of course not.
I occasionally used to bump into various UK System
Integrators during my time in India, and I advised them to consider looking
elsewhere for business, as their timescales, costs and standards would be way
off the expectations set in India.
Because of this lack of accurate timescale planning, it
makes it almost impossible to maintain an accurate sales pipeline forecast like
we are accustomed to in the west. Predicting what sales would land each month,
I found it just as effective to stick a finger in the air. Somehow we nearly
always reached our target each quarter, yet half of what was predicted in the
forecast just wouldn't happen, but luckily other sales that appeared from
nowhere, left-of-field, would unexpectedly land, and would make up the numbers.
You need to be prepared for this level of unpredictability, and also be
prepared to give away outrageous discounts (or rely on an Indian territory
price list).
National TV Awards
During my first year in India, we embarked on several
marketing activities, including open day sessions in the south, and exhibiting
at Broadcast India. In my second year, I decided to sponsor the National TV
Awards that was occurring at the same time as the Broadcast India show (an
award ceremony equivalent to our BAFTA's), and also sponsor the Broadcast India
drinks and after-show party, rather than pay for another exhibition stand at
the show. As part of this deal, we were allowed a ten minute presentation slot
at a hotel suite in Mumbai during the day, attended by key industry figures,
before the prestigious NT Awards ceremony in the evening. The presentation I
did was apparently well received, as the organiser for the whole event
approached me afterwards and kindly said my presentation was the strongest they
had seen that day, and asked if I would like to present a technology award live
on TV the same evening. I of course said yes, not realising what I was letting
myself in for.
Later that evening, I was dressed in my best
Indian-tailored suit, ready for action (I would accumulate several during my
time there, including a 70's Roger Moore style Safari linen suit, that is now
permanently hung in my wardrobe, and will never see the light of day again,
unless I'm attending a 70's fancy dress party, or in Las Vegas - the only place
outside of India I can get away with wearing it!)
As the evening unfolded, I was sat in the audience of
around 1,000 people with my team, wondering when I would be called up on stage
for my moment, and experiencing a sudden panic attack. What if I open the
envelope and I cannot pronounce the name on the card? As I tried to ignore
these niggling fears, a runner approached me and asked me to follow her out of
the audience and to go back stage with her, as I would be up next to present my
award. She then advised me to stand behind the stage, and wait for my cue from
the two comedian presenters on stage who will announce my name. I then walk on
from behind the set, stand on the X marked on the stage floor, open the
envelope, look up at the cameras that are beaming this live to millions around
India, and read out the name on the card.
Luckily it was a name that was easy to read and announce.
Phew! That went ok. I passed the award over, stood patiently to one side while
the winner said his speech, and then as he walked down the steps leading off
the stage back to the audience, I decided to follow, as I thought my moment of
fame was over. As I began walking down the steps from the front of the stage, I
heard cries of `what are you doing? Go back!' from the front row audience sat
immediately below me. Oops! I thought. Maybe I have come off the wrong exit.
Maybe I was supposed to exit left of stage. I then walked back up the steps
onto the stage again, and walked left, looking for another exit - which there
wasn't! The presenters on stage were now talking to me through their
microphones. `Mr. Scott! Mr. Scott! Where are you going? You have another award
to present!'
By this point, the whole place was erupting in laughter,
as I stood there, red faced. One of the presenters came over to me and grabbed
me by the waist. `You are going nowhere Mr. Barber. Not yet! We have you now!'
Embarrassed, I took the microphone from him and spoke to
the hysterical audience. `Apologies everyone. Dumb English white guy!' was all
I could bring myself to say. The presenter then coolly responded with `Well
sir. You ruled us for 300 years!' to which the audience erupted again, now more
loudly with a standing ovation.
The worst part was yet to come. Once I had finished my
ordeal of presenting another two awards (I wish someone had told me
beforehand), I then finally left the stage (to much amusement from the two
presenters, who were still chuckling at me), only to wander aimlessly down
below, lost, not able to find where my team was sat in the audience, and followed
under the glare of a spotlight hovering over me as I looked for my seat.
As I drank several much needed ice cold Kingfisher beers
afterwards at the wrap party, I lost count how many people came up to me and
said I made the evening. `Oh sir! The evening was so boring before you came on
stage!' This point was emphasised further next day, when my comedy of errors
were being repeatedly shown on the CNN highlights of the event.
Quantel Royal Event
I was invited by Quantel to a Royal event at one of the beautiful Taj
hotels in Mumbai, that Quantel were hosting. It was promoting British trade in
India, and would be attended by Prince Andrew. The evening before the event, I
sat having dinner with the former Quantel CEO, Ray Cross, and warned him to be
prepared for things to go wrong, as they nearly always do, when a large
demonstration is about to take place in India. Ray claimed that they (Quantel)
never experience such failures, to which I reminded him there are often factors
out of your control in India which can prevent an event running smoothly -
power blocks fail, kit doesn't arrive on time, etc. Literally as we were
speaking, one of the demonstrators seated with us at the dinner table was
suddenly talking urgently on his mobile phone to customs. `Ray, the kit is
being help up at customs!' he said anxiously. I smiled at Ray and said `There
you go! Welcome to India!'
I came down for breakfast next morning and felt for the
poor demo guys who had been up all night, trying to get the kit working as it
should, having lost valuable time due to the kit arriving late at the hotel. I
had been there myself many times, knowing what this was like, and asked if
there was anything I could do to help them out.
In the evening, as the audience took their seats at the
event, I could see Ray Cross stood at the front, looking rather nervous at the
blue screen behind him, and across to the right of him there were several
engineers huddled around the kit, pressing different buttons to get it working.
Obviously things were not running smoothly!
As Ray was about to start his presentation, before he
introduced himself and Quantel, he started with `Where's Scott? Where is he?' I
slowly waved my hand in the air, to which Ray said to the audience, `Hey
everyone! He's jinxed me!' pointing to where I was sat. Luckily the kit fired
to life just in the nick-of-time, and the demonstration went well. Even Prince
Andrew appeared happy with the show eventually (after initially refusing to put
on his 3D glasses, as he sat immediately in front of me).
Prince Andrew (centre, seated), listens to a presentation about stereoscopic 3D
Commonwealth Games
The 2010 Commonwealth Games were held in Delhi during October 2010, and was the first time the Games were held in India. While road-widening projects were being developed, the Metro expanding to accommodate more people, and the international airport getting modernised for the event, preparation for the Games received widespread international media attention. Criticism was levelled against the organisers for the slow pace of work, as well as issues relating to security and hygiene. A newly built pedestrian bridge for the Games collapsed just days before the event was to open (below), while footage of dirty mattresses and filthy rooms for the athletes began to emerge on the news.
A friend of mine from Hull was the swimming coach for the GB team. He came out to Delhi and stayed at my apartment. With full knowledge of what was happening behind the scenes, he kept me constantly informed of the daily boycott threats and athlete withdrawals.
From an international media perspective, things sounded no better. I went out with the BBC Sport Exec Producer for the Games one evening, and was listening to the horror stories of how unprepared and unfinished the IBC hub was as the BBC team arrived to set up. Half of the team would end up going down with severe bouts of the Delhi Belly within a few days.
Yet in typical Indian fashion, rather like an Indian wedding, manpower was thrown at the problem at the final hour, and just about got the show on the road. Five star hotel cleaning staff abandoned their daily duties in an all-hands-on-deck approach to clean up the athletes village. Due to this often short-sightedness to long term planning, everything is lastminute.com in India, even an event as big as this, but somehow they manage to find a way and pull through, which has to be admired. It's very impressive to observe the Indian resolve in action.
Hyderabad Gangsters
Don't be too surprised if clients don't pay up on time in India. We once had a customer in Hyderabad that had been using Vizrt news tickers on air for at least nine months, and still had not paid a rupee for the software. After pressing the account manager each week on why the customer had not paid up, I eventually asked him to arrange a meeting, so I could find out for myself what was going on. When we arrived at the facility on the outskirts of Hyderabad - a rough concrete block by the side of a dirt track in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by the usual rubble and piled garbage which the roaming cows grazed off - I immediately noticed the two brand new shiny black Bentleys parked outside.The owners office was on the top floor, a vast open space with luxurious leather sofas, lined with several expensive plasmas on the walls, and an adjoining on-suite shower room. We both sat and waited for the owners to arrive. When the door opened, the two burly men that walked slowly in looked more like bearded, Indian versions of the Kray twins, and sat opposite me, stone faced. I then spent ten minutes introducing myself, trying to remain professional, ignoring the intimidating stares and silent tension that was building up in front of me. After my opening speech, their response was in heated Hindi towards my sales guy. I asked what they were saying, realising I had just spent a wasted ten minutes speaking to two men who couldn't understand a word of English (made even worse by my Hull accent!) Apparently they were not happy with the level of support and training we had provided, even though they had not yet paid a single rupee for our software and services. They also claimed that they had paid our reseller (which I was almost certain wasn't true). Eventually I was glad to leave their room with my knee caps intact, and decided to switch off their dongle enabled software licences, once I was safely hundreds of miles away back in Delhi, until they paid up.
Lifestyle
The ex-pat lifestyle in India is made ludicrously attractive by many Western companies based out there for enticing people over. In the apartment I lived in, it boasted five on-suite bathrooms, situated on the 18th floor in a plush high-rise luxury complex, complete with swimming pool. I had a servant quarter where my driver, Shiv lived (believe me, you need a driver) and two maids that would come daily to cook and clean for me. You can see why this may seem appealing for many UK ex-pats looking to escape the gloomy weather in Blighty, being offered affluence that would rival what the likes of Roman Abramovich or the Beckhams could afford in London.I was a member of the British Embassy, which meant I could pop over there for a few English ales at the Green Parrot pub on the compound (nicknamed `Butlins', due to its holiday style complex) to occasionally escape the manic chaos of India. I was also a member of the DLF golf country club (below) - an ostentatious place with floodlit courses to allow members to tee off in the evenings when the weather cools down slightly, and plush dark-wooden restaurants and bars with green leather seats that evoked memories of the British Raj.
If this extravagant lifestyle sounds tempting for some, it does come with its drawbacks. Firstly, being brought up in a working class environment like Hull, I never felt comfortable having servants working for me. Secondly, the truly Third World poverty conditions on your doorstep, that you never escape no matter where you travel in India, would only make you feel increasingly guilty about your own privileged conditions. I wanted to buy a dishwasher for my apartment, and yet was advised not to, as you are depriving the people living on the streets of a possible job and income. This is the sad reality you face, and why you end up hiring servants. I was paying double the average salary for my driver and maids, but was warned in no uncertain terms that doing this would be screwing with the economy, as my servants would not get a similar deal again once I leave India, and which I ignored.
I organised a Team Building weekend away with the entire Vizrt India team and their families, camping and white water rafting at Rishikesh, on the River Ganges. From going over rapid fours and fives under the blazing sun and nearly capsizing several times, to jumping in the fast-flowing river to body surf, this was one of the highlights of my time in India. One memorable moment occurred early one morning. I awoke and left my tent to take a stroll across the sleeping camp site to the toilets, when I stopped suddenly in my tracks. Across the river, on the other side of the embankment was a leopard, lazily gazing at me in the sun. At that moment I wish I had my camera with me, but I knew once I would go back to my tent it would disappear (which it did).
White water rafting on the River Ganges
`Delhi Belly'
An article on India wouldn't be complete without giving the dreaded Delhi Belly (or Bombay Bum) a mention. My boss in Asia warned me that I would catch just about everything in my first year in India, but then my immune system would slowly build a tolerance level, which it did. Within the first week I was struck down with a nasty throat virus, nothing like I had ever experienced before, while my stomach would slowly go through lessening degrees of the Delhi Belly, until eventually I could just about eat anything. My immune system slowly became rock solid. A good friend of mine, Jim Irving (former BBC Sport and Delta Tre) came out to visit me for a holiday, and after arriving in Delhi only hours before, he was very ill, even though we both ate the same food - a chicken curry that my maid had cooked, washed down with a bottle of Indian red wine. I'd probably be ill too now if I had to stomach that again. I doubt my immune system is as strong as it was back then.
However, if you choose the right restaurants, the food in India is fabulous. Most of the five star hotels offer superb buffets and restaurants, and its good to try restaurants like the famous Moti Mahal in Old Delhi, where Butter Chicken was invented, but the best dish I ever tried in India was at a seafood restaurant in Mumbai. I had tandoori lobster to start, and a chilli crab afterwards, and it was delicious.
Moti Mahal’s famous Butter Chicken
My Final Days
My last few days in India were just as memorable as they were when I first arrived, still learning new things about that place until the day I left. The reason for leaving was mainly down to my wife Gita, who was still living in the UK at the time, and travelling to see me every month in Delhi, but after two years we decided it wasn't feasible to move out there permanently, and that I should come back to the UK. It became a strain on our relationship living apart, and as an expat in India without family support around you, it is extremely difficult. I would never advise anyone to work out there without the family coming along too (there are plenty of excellent international schools for expat children in India).I had a fully furnished apartment and needed to sell everything, as there was no room at our home in the UK for all the furniture we had in India. The good news is, many people only buy second hand furniture in India. Someone recommended a guy called Ashok, who was running a business called Ashok Auctions, and he specialised in organising house auctions. He arrived early one Sunday morning at my apartment (below) with his team ready to sell all my belongings, after putting an advert in a local newspaper a few days before. His team then promptly rearranged all the furniture in the apartment. He even asked my wife to bring over any unused or broken bits of junk we didn't want back home in the UK to the apartment, as everything would sell within an hour.
And it did - beds, tables, sofas, TV's, a treadmill, half-opened bottles of ketchup, tins of beans, even a freebie Vizrt umbrella (left out on display by accident). For an hour it was utter chaos in the apartment, people shouting and fighting over every item, my wife trying to keep up with who had paid, where everyone was paying with cash that was going straight into a sports bag by my wife's side. Meanwhile I had to keeping watching for things going missing, or people trying to leave the apartment before Ashok checked over bundles of purchased items (this guy had a photographic memory).
When it was over, the apartment was empty - everything sold, with just a sports bag filled with cash, as though we had just completed a bank heist. It would be the last of many life lessons I experienced during my time in India, and I would love to return again someday.
