With our stash.
I am a third-generation entrepreneur, one generation removed. My paternal grandfather, Pt Amarendra Gadgil was a visionary writer and editor who realised that if he had to be independent of external interests and be his own man, so to say, to write and publish what he thought important, he had to have a printing press of his own, which he acquired from Germany (in the days of the British Raj, this in itself was a feat of no mean proportions), writers of his own since he could not be writing everything (back in his days, in the first half of the 20th century, he scouted for, found, mentored, developed, and employed on salaries, an army of writers), contract manufacturing to keep his press busy otherwise (he managed to snag a large contract of Christmas cards for which he bought huge quantities of paper from Calcutta), and access to distribution (his brother co-owned and operated the most popular and well-stocked shop in Pune called Popular Book House on Fergusson College Road). He had multiple brands for the different kinds of books and writing his ‘factory’ produced, eventually becoming a pioneer in children’s literature to a point where he was known as the Father of ‘Marathi Baal-Kumar Saahitya‘ (children’s and young adults’ literature). It was just unfortunate that he was not as successful as someone that foresighted ought to have been, lost everything mostly due to bad circumstances and partly due to bad decisions, and had to work as the Chief Editor for one of Maharashtra’s largest publishers of Marathi and Hindi books in Mumbai, Vora & Co. Throughout his career, he kept trying to regain his mojo and come back into business, but the first hit had hurt him too hard for him to recover.
His son, my father, while being an excellent writer and penman himself, was more interested in flying. So, while I can technically claim that I come from a business family, it has skipped a generation. In a way then, Kymaia would be a fourth-generation entrepreneur, if she so chose to pursue that path.
Let me also recount a bit of her mother, Natasha’s enterprising history, who has had, for the want of a better word, an interesting youth, where she ran away (in a manner of speaking, since her father had forbidden it), faked her age, joined a cruise liner, and saw the world (well, at least Russia and the Scandinavian countries) while working and earning her way, and making some extra side money by selling bindis and teaching English to the other firangi staff, before returning, completing her education, and entering the corporate life, only to chuck it later to forge a path of her own as a consultant first, then, as a co-founder of an FMCG brand, and eventually, back to being a consulting professional and leadership coach doing some kick-ass creative and out-of-the-box work for her clients.
Why do I bring this up today? Because recently, against her mother’s very strict and clear instructions (and wishes), I bought little Kym some bubble gum from Amazon. Unfortunately, while ordering, both, Baba and Baby bears got a little carried away and ended up with a rather large stash of it (much to the consternation of the mother). The next step was, of course, to counsel her about the ills of eating too much of it, and so, unlike most parents who’d just tell her how bad it would be for her or confiscate the supposed contraband, we turned to Google and asked her to research it and present her findings to us (for those of you who are freaking out, hold your horses: We monitor her internet use and keep close tabs on her search history, something we can do for maybe another few years at most; and we have found nothing objectionable yet). She came back with a good understanding of the pros (yes, there are some) and cons of chewing gum, and after telling her to moderate her consumption, we left her to her own devices.
The other day, though, her mother came home early and saw a gaggle of kids just outside her home surrounding her and speaking in loud voices and gesticulating, not unlike the old-style stock market trading floors, with people bidding to buy and sell. As soon as they saw Mamma bear, they all dispersed, but not before she overheard some of the conversations. Upon further questioning, it emerged that little Kym has become the chewing gum mafia of her building complex. Apparently, this child of ours has started to trade in chewing gum, getting material goods like chips, candies, and rubber bands, along with services like cleaning her room and letting her have an extra round in games in return for the colourful bubbly gum. It would seem that exchange rates are also fixed and discounts are offered depending on whether the ‘customer’ is a returning one or a new one. I am impressed. I think I need to teach her about maintaining a list of debtors and creditors and a stock register at the very least to track her sales and inventory. Also, I need to tell her about taking into consideration the cost of goods, which at this point has been zero for her, given that I paid for them, before calculating profit. (OK, just kidding on that last two).
We are just lucky she’s only 7 and hasn’t started talking valuations and exits yet. But at this pace, I cannot imagine that day is too far. Her great-grandfather would have been so proud.
