Success story

There are certain experiences or flash of certain idea that can shape the future development of one life. These experiences or ideas may not appear to be out of some high profile perception but seen from the perspective of the individual incident these came make big difference to the ultimate outcome and this proved to be my story in relation to the idea “success” by a large margin. My perspective of life had always been zeroed in being a “successful” entrepreneur, which I have already achieved. I believed that the more money one has, the more ‘successful’ one can be, the more happiness one will have. But something happened that made me question this theory that money brings happiness, and the perception of success.

As I mentioned I am a successful businessman with a capital B or entrepreneur to be more specific. And busy I was, always, I had to be. Everything got a price, you have to accept it and I accepted it open armed. My wife never objected to this as this harvested fortune and she knew its value. We were married for nine years with a kid of five. Everything was smooth or so as I thought.

I was on a business trip to India to extend my business and as it was a long trip I decided to bring on my family with me. We stayed at a nice bungalow in a posh area of a South Indian city called Bangalore. The people were nice over there and business seems to have quite a prospect. The bungalow was looked over by a local caretaker who lived in the compound with his lad who was around the age of my son.

Everything was well planned and procedure moved accordingly. Then one day there was a general strike called in the city and I had to stay back at the bungalow for the day. I was having my coffee at the balcony working out the possible developments of proceedings. I saw my boy was playing some native games with marbles with the caretaker’s kid. A little wile later the caretaker came in and joined them in their game. The game must be shaping out to be an exciting turn or so as there was lots of gleeful giggling from all three when I heard my son calling the caretaker ‘Appa’. This word means ‘father’ in Indian. He must have taken it off from the caretaker’s son’s vocabulary.

Kids are but kids but this incident was revealing in a sense. My son, the son of a successful entrepreneur, heir to millions of dollars calling a caretaker ‘Appa’! Surely he knows the meaning of the word. And surely this poor Indian caretaker was providing my son with something that he lacked from me. What was it!

Time. It was time that this caretaker had for plenty. Enough for his own son indeed and overflowed amount for my son too. This I had none.

All these years my son was all around and I hardy had any quality affairs with him. Never took him to zoo or circus or playground. Never knew this was necessary. Necessary for him and maybe also for me too. I had to redeem myself. I had to resurrect myself and on a faster and precise manner. I did.

Nowadays, my business is working out smoothly as ever because I find myself more relaxed all the time. Never knew a running down the baseball track was so soothing for the nerves. Never knew those little palms to wipe of the sweat was so relaxing. Never knew there was such happiness all around. Thank you Mr. Caretaker!