Jeff Bezos, the owner of mighty Amazon constantly features in one of the most successful entrepreneurs of modern time. The way he has steered Amazon through all these years, shows his dedication and skill to make things work against all odds. However, even he failed. A lot of articles have come up post this and many different perspectives have tried to solve this problem from a different angle. Jeff Gothelf and Josh Seiden’s book, Sense and Respond tries to look at such cases from a newer perspective:
‘Amazon’s 2014 Fire Phone disaster is a classic example and, oddly, one that comes from the very same company that developed and frequently uses many of the sense and respond techniques we’re discussing—a company we laud in chapter 1 for that reason.
Motivated by consumers’ increasing use of mobile devices, Amazon began the Fire Phone effort in 2010, just as the iPhone 4 was hitting the market. Mobile users were becoming a more important source of traffic to Amazon, and the company wanted more control of the mobile store than Apple would allow. Apple’s rules about what companies can and can’t do in iOS apps include strict rules about commerce, including one that stipulates that Apple gets a 30 percent share of each in- app sale. 2 (The reason you can’t buy a book on the iOS Kindle app is that Amazon doesn’t want to pay Apple 30 percent of each sale.) So Amazon created the Fire Phone initiative to solve a business problem: it wanted complete control over the store that its customers visited on their mobile devices.
But what would be the value to customers? They struggled to find it, in part because of a strict culture of secrecy around this product. Jeff Bezos, CEO of Amazon, had lots of ideas for cool features. But cool and valuable are not the same thing. Over time, Bezos exerted an increasingly heavier hand in the design and development of the Fire Phone and, according to published reports, ignored feedback from his team that questioned his approach. 3 There was no conversation with the market here, only Bezos talking. He insisted that the phone have a series of fl ashy features like Dynamic Perspective, a 3-D display that didn’t require special glasses and could be seen from all angles; but it delivered little consumer value. Bezos assumed that fl ashy hardware features would make the phone more desirable to consumers than an iPhone. Without a continuous two way conversation with his target audience to guide the development of these features, though, Bezos was making a huge guess.
He guessed wrong. Four years later, in July 2014, the Fire Phone went on sale in the United States. Within days it was clear that consumers were unimpressed— with the design, with the ecosystem, and with the gimmicky features Bezos had pushed for so hard. Priced at $199, the Fire Phone was intended to compete directly with Apple’s iPhone, but consumers didn’t see the value. Instead, they saw it for what it was—a way to easily get to Amazon’s store in a way that was better for Amazon but not significantly better for customers.
After a $170 million write- down of unsold inventory, the Fire Phone was available for 99 cents before finally being sunset in late 2015. The behind- the- scenes stories reveal the arrogance in the top down decision- making process that Bezos led. Although people on the team pushed back, they ended up deferring to the boss. After all, he’d been right many times before. Why wouldn’t he be right again this time?
It might have helped if Bezos had listened to the market. Had he approached some of these decisions as assumptions to be tested and questions to be answered, rather than hunches to be followed blindly, things might have been different.’
You can get your hands at the book here.
This is an excerpt from Jeff Gothelf and Josh Seiden’s Sense and Respond.
Credit: Abhishek Singh
Tag: Excerpt
Winning with Superconsumers
Daniel Zein (disguised), the CFO of Great Snacks, thought that Nacho Cheese could be one of the company’s most valuable brands, so he encouraged the team to dig further into the product. The team did some robust analysis, and to their surprise, they discovered that Nacho Cheese’s consumers spanned the entire income spectrum.
From the data, it was obvious that Nacho Cheese could be a much bigger brand. Of all the full meals that consumers eat at home, about 37 percent are consumed hot and include cheese. But Nacho Cheese was used in only a fraction of those meals. To grow its product, the Great Snacks team decided to focus on the twenty-four million or so other consumers who share the same three loves that Laura had—people, cooking, and cheese—but who may not understand the magic of Nacho Cheese and the dozens of life solutions that it could deliver.
Simply put, the team gathered data from their superconsumers, ensured that the resultant insights and inspiration also appealed to the other twenty-four million consumers, and then geared its marketing, innovation, and retail execution to their tastes and behaviors. The immediate challenge was to convince the company leadership that Nacho Cheese could grow through better marketing and innovation—from packaging to product.
Line extensions into other forms of cheese were also a logical action step. Great Snacks drove growth by megabranding Nacho Cheese into other categories. The core business grew steadily faster than inflation, but the extensions in cheese (e.g., slices, shredded cheese) grew by double digits. All told, the brand extensions drove more than $50 million in growth, and the megabrand grew $100 million in three years.
For years, innovation for Nacho Cheese was a challenge. Since the brand was not well understood, innovation concepts yielded mixed results, which made the team hesitant to pursue breakthrough innovation. But with new data, the team revamped its innovation testing process to include both superconsumers (like Laura) and potential superconsumers (folks who could become like Laura).
The group was pleasantly surprised to find that among all the new product concepts it tested, some were off-the-charts positive for superconsumers. The team made a few tweaks, the new concepts tested positive for potential superconsumers as well, and the team finally had the results it needed to proceed.
The team saw that retail activation was inconsistent across retailers. In some stores, Nacho Cheese was placed in the center of the store. In others, it was refrigerated in the cheese and dairy section. So the team did some analysis and found that Nacho Cheese sold faster in the refrigerated section, which consequently produced better results for Great Snacks and the retailer. The team learned that superconsumers strongly preferred the product when it was sold in the refrigerated section. What’s more, potential superconsumers had a much easier time finding it in the refrigerated section.
Finally, the Great Snacks team used big data to uncover meaningful ways of improving marketing ROI. It used big data from Nielsen Catalina Solutions—a joint venture that creates a single-source panel of consumers from the sixty million loyalty-card holders from grocery stores and the Nielsen TV panel of two to three million households. The single-source data gave the team interesting insights on the actual TV shows that Nacho Cheese aficionados were watching. In one test using this data, the team found that superconsumers were fifteen times more responsive to Nacho Cheese advertising than other consumers! The vice president of marketing noted that the brand’s marketing objective was to have a conversation with superconsumers about their love for Nacho Cheese, but to do so in a way that potential superconsumers could listen in.
The beauty of all this was that the data the team used to improve innovation, retail activation, and marketing was already there. Superconsumers gave the marketers a way to synthesize the data into a coherent and coordinated set of actions and metrics. Looking at superconsumers like Laura, the team gained confidence that the strategy had even more upside. And the team saw the potential and ran with it.
Want to know a simple, speedy, and sustainable path to superior growth? Order Eddie Yoon’s Superconsumers here!
This is an excerpt from Eddie Yoon’s Superconsumers.
Credit: Abhishek Singh
The Legal Eagle – An Excerpt
Harish Salve’s name ranks amongst the brightest legal luminaries of India. After an illustrious career of nearly two decades as a Supreme Court lawyer, he served as the Solicitor General of India from 1999 to 2000. A highly sought-after practising lawyer, his client list includes corporate bigwigs like Ratan Tata, Tina Ambani and Lalit Modi, as well as powerful politicians like Mulayam Singh Yadav and Prakash Singh Badal, and also Bollywood actor Salman Khan. He represented Vodafone in the well-known tax case with the Indian government which was finally decided in Vodafone’s favour. He was the counsel of choice for Mukesh Ambani’s Reliance Industries Limited in big-ticket cases like the Krishna Godavari Basin gas dispute and for Ratan Tata in a privacy petition concerning the Niira Radia tapes, as well as for the Delhi Police in the case for its midnight raid over Baba Ramdev’s rally at Ramlila Maidan. Besides representing his high-profile clients, Harish Salve has offered his pro bono services several times as amicus curiae to assist the Supreme Court in cases mostly relating to the preservation of the environment.
It’s a special day when I hear from the country’s pre-eminent lawyer, confirming our meeting in early August in Delhi at his office at ‘White House’ on the premium Bhagwandas Road, a stone’s throw away from the Supreme Court and India Gate in the Lutyens Bungalow Zone. I am excited to meet Harish Salve, though thankfully not for legal reasons!
There are guards posted outside his sixth-floor office. As you go past the reception desk, of the three doors that open into the reception area, the one on the extreme right is Harish’s chamber. It’s elegantly done in dark mahogany wood and expectedly has a wall-to-wall library stacked with gilded books as the backdrop to his revolving black chair. His large glass-top work desk and the set-up around it take up almost one-third of the space.
From a reputed family, with his grandfather being a successful criminal lawyer and father, N.K.P. Salve, a well-known Congress politician of his time, I imagine that Harish would have had success served to him on a platter and I share my view with him up front.
‘Contrary to what you think,’ he says, ‘I had what you may call “a lower-middle-class” upbringing. I come from a life of simplicity and grew up in a house full of relatives. My mother’s elder brother took sanyas (became an ascetic) and left home. His children were virtually brought up by my parents. My mausi (maternal aunt) also lived with us. So my elder sister, five of my cousins, my mausi and I used to sleep in the big living room, with the only bedroom in the house occupied by my parents.’ Harish was brought up by the same mausi, who was a professor of philosophy in a women’s college. Every night, she would put him to bed and read something to him. It was a very down-to-earth upbringing. Sports for Harish in his childhood meant playing football with kids from the chawls behind their house. As he says, ‘So even though I went to a very good school in Nagpur, there was so much learning we had on the football field of different aspects of life while intermingling with children from different backgrounds.’
After school, he chose to do his undergraduation in commerce and joined his father’s chartered accountancy firm for articles. Harish’s father was a practising chartered accountant before he joined politics. He and his partner had a small firm with an annual turnover of about Rs 5 lakh. Remembering those times, Harish says, ‘During my first year of college, I used to travel by bicycle in the sweltering heat of Nagpur.’ Colleges started in the month of March when day temperature in Nagpur is usually above 40 °C and burning. ‘I would come back, have lunch and then leave for office.’ As the peak summer months approached, the temperature would go up to 45 °C and Harish would cycle to office earlier in the morning. ‘There were times when we would be required to go to some factories in the afternoons and do an audit. I remember we used to take a wet towel and put it around our heads to avoid heat stroke and then cycle some 8 kilometres to reach the place,’ he says. ‘The so-called “big entertainment” in college and years after that was to go to a local dairy and have coffee or to go to Hanuman Mandir and have samosas. I usually stayed up the nights and studied. We would go to the railway station and eat at the dhabas there.’ That’s how Harish grew up. He credits these experiences for teaching him some very important values, making sure he’s never lost touch with that part of his life.
‘You switched from commerce to law. How did that happen? Did you complete your chartered accountancy?’
‘The moment I completed my graduation I joined CA, but found it very boring. Though the course was good, I knew that I would not stay in the audit and accountancy field. I was more interested in law and taxation. I completed CA only because it became a matter of prestige. Everyone said, “Yeh toh Salve sahab ka beta hai, ye thodi karega CA” (He is Mr Salve’s son, so he will not do CA) and my reaction was, “Ab toh pass karke chhodunga” (Now I will qualify and prove myself).’ Harish qualified for CA, and within two months gave up his certificate of practice to enrol at the bar. His father was very upset, but Harish was very clear that he wanted to be a lawyer. He had been a (Nani) Palkhivala fan from the age of fourteen as his father’s firm used to consult Mr Palkhivala on taxation matters, and Harish got the opportunity to interact with him a few times on cases wherein his father involved him. Harish thoroughly enjoyed income tax and learnt a lot from Nani, and gradually made up his mind that if he had to pursue taxation, it would be as a lawyer. The time had come for him to chase his dream.
Keen to know more about his relationship with his father, I ask, ‘You completed law from Government Law College, Nagpur, in 1980, and by then you had also managed to complete a couple of years’ internship with a law firm operating out of Nagpur and Mumbai, as well as acquiring the precious experience of working with Nani Palkhivala on the famous Minerva Mill case. Later, Nani recommended that you work as a junior with Soli Sorabjee who was then the Solicitor General of India based in Delhi. At that time, your father was the deputy leader of the Congress in Parliament under the prime ministership of Indira Gandhi and soon went on to hold other important portfolios in the Central cabinet—as minister of state for information and broadcasting (I&B), then minister of state with independent charge for steel and mines. How did the relationship pan out between the father and the son in terms of propriety—you as a budding lawyer and your father as an influential politician?’
‘My father joined politics when I was ten years old. All I have seen is a downslide in the quality of my life from the time he joined politics. His income went down and things didn’t change right through to the time I was doing my CA. I remember my mother telling me, “You cannot eat meat every day.” This is how it was even when my father was a member of Parliament (MP). Though he steadily grew in terms of his political stature, it didn’t translate into financial gains. The sense of righteousness was very strong in him, so he made sure that the boundaries between our professions remained concrete. When my father was inducted as a minister in the Central cabinet in the 1980s, I never attended a single official party. I went to his office only once when he was in the I&B ministry because he wanted me to sign some papers. For several years after my father was the minister of power, I didn’t know that his office was in Shram Shakti Bhawan.’
It was only much later when, as Solicitor General, Harish went to Shram Shakti Bhawan for a meeting with Suresh Prabhu—who was the minister of power then in Atal Bihari Vajpayee’s cabinet—regarding the Dabhol case that he realized that it was his father’s office!
‘When my father was the minister of steel, he called me up one day and said that he wanted to know how much work I had got from the Steel Authority of India in the last year. I totalled it, and it came to about Rs 3000 when I had a practice running into some Rs 40 lakh at that time. When he became the minister of power, he called me and told me that he did not want me to work for any public sector units that came under his ministry.’ Harish assured him he would not and at the same time brought to his father’s attention how there were a bunch of third-grade lawyers whom ministers patronized and that they should be barred from appearing. ‘I ended up becoming the cause for a rumpus that followed in the ministry,’ chuckles Harish and adds, ‘It was only once that I worked for the ministry of power, and then too, instead of getting any benefit, I ended up giving free advice to the government.’
‘You imbibed taxation and law from your family environment. What about politics? Have you ever considered joining politics?’
‘My personal view is that there are two kinds of reactions when you see power and politics very closely—you love it or hate it. I hate it.’ Harish is clear that he has never even considered the idea of joining politics. As a student of public affairs and law, he likes following politics and understanding it because it is important—not in its narrow partisan sense but as an important part of governance.
‘As a renowned constitutional lawyer, what are your observations on India as of today—the way the country is being managed and where it is headed?’
Harish ponders briefly and then very eloquently expresses his key concerns about Indian polity. He cautions and remarks, ‘I think right now India is going through a very negative mindset and if we don’t realize this soon enough and do something about it, we are going to pay a very dear price for it. We have, from about 2011 onwards, created an impression that everybody in power is corrupt, everyone who has a car is a crook, everyone who lives well is a crook. We must realize that India’s biggest fault line is between the haves and the have-nots. In the power game of politics, instead of taking hard decisions for development, people are being pitted as rich or poor—us versus them. In this way, we are gradually cultivating complete disrespect for our constitutional institutions.’
Harish’s analysis is that we are being misled by a wealth-hungry media. The media decides who is corrupt and who is not, and we basically assume if a person is rich and influential, he/she must be corrupt. The reality is that governance comes from institutions, and wealth comes from private capital. By giving them a bad name today, Harish believes we are sawing at the edifice of democracy. This trend is alarming and nothing, nothing appears to be above partisan politics—whether it’s land acquisition, foreign direct investment (FDI), or even the Naga Accord. Not blaming any one political party for it, he points out that everybody does it, with politicians attending to their personal interest first and functioning with a ‘to hell with the nation’ attitude.
However, he acknowledges that we still have a lot of very fine politicians and conscientious MPs, having known them well. ‘There are a lot of lower-middle-class MPs who live in two-bedroom flats and go back to do some good work in their constituencies. But you’ll never hear about those people. On the other hand, if one person makes some communally sensitive statement, it immediately makes for front-page news,’ he says.
The Boy Who Loved — An Exclusive Excerpt
1 January 1999
Hey Raghu Ganguly (that’s me),
I am finally putting pen to paper. The scrunch of the sheets against the fanged nib, the slow absorption of the ink, seeing these unusually curved letters, is definitely satisfying; I’m not sure if writing journal entries to myself like a schizophrenic is the answer I’m looking for. But I have got to try. My head’s dizzy from riding on the sinusoidal wave that has been my life for the last two years. On most days I look for ways to die—the highest building around my house, the sharpest knife in the kitchen, the nearest railway station, a chemist shop that would unquestioningly sell twenty or more sleeping pills to a sixteen-year-old, a packet of rat poison—and on some days I just want to be scolded by Maa–Baba for not acing the mathematics exam, tell Dada how I will beat his IIT score by a mile, or be laughed at for forgetting to take the change from the bania’s shop.
I’m Raghu and I have been lying to myself and everyone around me for precisely two years now. Two years since my best friend of four years died, one whose friendship I thought would outlive the two of us, engraved forever in the space– time continuum. But, as I have realized, nothing lasts forever. Now lying to others is fine, everyone does that and it’s healthy and advisable—how else are you going to survive the suffering in this cruel, cruel world? But lying to yourself? That shit’s hard, that will change you, and that’s why I made the resolution to start writing a journal on the first of this month, what with the start of a new year and all, the last of this century.
I must admit I have been dilly-dallying for a while now and not without reason. It’s hard to hide things in this house with Maa’s sensitive nose never failing to sniff out anything Dada, Baba or I have tried to keep from her. If I were one of those kids who live in palatial houses with staircases and driveways I would have plenty of places to hide this journal, but since I am not, it will have to rest in the loft behind the broken toaster, the defunct Singer sewing machine and the empty suitcases.
So Raghu, let’s not lie to ourselves any longer, shall we? Let’s say the truth, the cold, hard truth and nothing else, and see if that helps us to survive the darkness. If this doesn’t work and I lose, checking out of this life is not hard. It’s just a seven-storey drop from the roof top, a quick slice of the wrist, a slip on the railway track, a playful ingestion of pills or the accidental consumption of rat poison away. But let’s try and focus on the good.
Durga. Durga.
12 January 1999
Today was my first day at the new school, just two months before the start of the tenth-standard board exams. Why Maa– Baba chose to change my school in what’s said to be one of the most crucial year in anyone’s academic life is amusing to say the least—my friendlessness.
‘If you don’t make friends now, then when will you?’ Maa said. They thought the lack of friends in my life was my school’s problem and had nothing to do with the fact that my friend had been mysteriously found dead, his body floating in the still waters of the school swimming pool. He was last seen with me. At least that’s what my classmates believe and say. Only I know the truth.
When Dada woke me up this morning, hair parted and sculpted to perfection with Brylcreem, teeth sparkling, talcum splotches on his neck, he was grinning from ear to ear. Unlike me he doesn’t have to pretend to be happy. Isn’t smiling too much a sign of madness? He had shown the first symptoms when he picked a private-sector software job over a government position in a Public Sector. Undertaking which would have guaranteed a lifetime of unaccountability. Dada may be an IITian but he’s not the smarter one of us.
‘Are you excited about the new school, Raghu? New uniform, new people, new everything? Of course you’re excited! I never quite liked your old school. You will make new friends here,’ said Dada with a sense of happiness I didn’t feel. ‘Sure. If they don’t smell the stench of death on me.’ ‘Oh, stop it. It’s been what? Over two years? You know how upset Maa–Baba get,’ said Dada. ‘Trust me, you will love your new school! And don’t talk about Sami at the breakfast table.’ ‘I was joking, Dada. Of course I am excited!’ I said, mimicking his happiness.
Dada falls for these lies easily because he wants to believe them. Like I believed Maa–Baba when they once told me, ‘We really liked Sami. He’s a nice boy.’ Sami, the dead boy, was never liked by Maa–Baba. For Baba it was enough that his parents had chosen to give the boy a Muslim name. Maa had more valid concerns like his poor academic performance, him getting caught with cigarettes in his bag, and Sami’s brother being a school dropout. Despite all the love they showered on me in the first few months after Sami’s death, I thought I saw what could only be described as relief that Sami, the bad influence, was no longer around. Now they use his name to their advantage. ‘Sami would want you to make new friends,’ they would say. I let Maa feed me in the morning. It started a few days after Sami’s death and has stuck ever since.
Maa’s love for me on any given day is easily discernible from the size of the morsels she shoves into my mouth. Today the rice balls and mashed potatoes were humungous. She watched me chew like I was living art. And I ate because I believe the easiest way to fool anyone into not looking inside and finding that throbbing mass of sadness is to ingest food. A person who eats well is not truly sad. While we ate, Baba lamented the pathetic fielding placement of the Indian team and India’s questionable foreign policy simultaneously.
‘These bloody Musalmans, these filthy Pakistanis! They shoot our soldiers…
7 Quotes by Perumal Murugan that Describe a Difficult Childhood
Perumal Murugan’s works provide a poignant commentary on the religious and caste practices prevalent in the society. His stories vividly capture the pain a person from the lower strata of society goes through every day.
His novel Seasons of the Palm, which was shortlisted for the Kiriyama Award, is merciless in its portrayal of the daily humiliations of untouchablility. It also evokes the grace with which the oppressed come to terms with their dark fate. Shorty, the central character of Murugan’s novel is one such young untouchable who is in bondage to a powerful landlord.
Here are a few quotes from the book that will give you a glimpse of Shorty’s hardships:
Being Awakened by a Stinging Whiplash
When You Can’t Wash Off Your Stink
Untouchable and Barred from Touching
When the Bare Necessities Turn into Luxury
A Paid Slave
Not-so-Good-Morning
When Your Days Are Like Empty Bowls
Aren’t they painful yet powerful? Tell us what do you think.
Master on Masters – An Excerpt
India is the only country in the world which has two traditions of classical music—those of the South or the ‘Carnatic’ and the North or ‘Hindustani’. However, I prefer to call it just music. The basis of all music in the world is the same—seven notes. Sa Re Ga Ma Pa Dha Ni in Indian classical music and Do Re Me Fa So La Ti in Western classical. If we include the half-tones that are the sharps and flats, we get a total of twelve notes. Music connects the whole world; it does not belong to any one race or religion.
The future of Indian classical music will always be bright. We are fortunate to have had such strong pillars of music like Swami Haridas, Swami Purandar Dasa, Swami Muthuswami Dikshitar, Syama Sastri, Swami Thyagaraja, Swathi Thirunal, Miyan Tansen and Baiju Bawra in our country. With their blessings, there are a large number of talented young musicians in India today. Indian classical music has always been, and will continue to be, an integral part of our identity. It does not belong only to the world of entertainment; it is a way of life based on dedication, surrender, faith, trust, spirituality, religion, and rigorous practice and discipline. No matter which gharana or guru a student of Indian classical music belongs to, they must surrender completely to their guru and to the Almighty. It is almost like entering a dark tunnel with the hope of seeing the sun someday. It might sound impractical, but this is how it is. There is no formula here. Many times, people ask me if their son or daughter will ‘make it’ as a classical musician. I have no answer to this question because there never was and never will be a magic mantra.
Over the years, I have seen a change in the attitude of disciples. While some are epitomes of dedication and grace, others want to become superstars overnight and, in the process, shift their focus away from their path to the extent of disagreeing and questioning what the guru has to say. Classical music is not for someone who is in search of glamour and overnight fame. Years and hours of practice and dedication go into the making of a classical musician.
Today, electronic and social media are largely encouraging the kind of music which is not classical. But true classical musicians are not created by the media. The listeners of our country are fairly selective. Nobody can impose an artist on them. The only way for a young musician to succeed is to work hard, practise rigorously and maintain strict discipline. This is not restricted to music alone, but extends to Indian rules of etiquette (tehzeeb and tameez) as well.
I disagree with those who say that Indian classical music is a dying art form. We must understand a few things here. It was never for the masses to begin with. It was originally performed only in private mehfils, with concert hall performances being a recent phenomenon. Today, classical musicians perform at venues like Carnegie Hall, Royal Albert Hall and Sydney Opera House to packed auditoriums. You are talking about an audience fighting against the ninety to hundred odd television channels at home! Likewise, in India, when I see huge venues filling up, I don’t think we can really complain. It is the responsibility of the artist to make the youth relate to their music. The kind of attention that Bollywood and the fashion industry are receiving today from mainstream media, Indian classical music got three decades ago! In the sixties and seventies, musicians would play ragas for two to three hours. Frankly, after maybe an hour, it was all repetition. However, due to this attitude of artists who perhaps wanted to prove a point, a section of listeners drifted away to easy listening. One must keep in mind that no books or shastras ever mentioned how classical music should be presented. By bringing it in sync with times, one cannot be faulted for diluting it at all.
I believe in being traditional, not conventional. In the early eighties, I had recorded an album of short pieces around ragas. At the time, I was criticized for not going into too much detail of the ragas, but I am happy that today this has become a trend. I see the great journey of Indian classical music being carried forward by brilliant young musicians who have a readymade repository—painstakingly put together by my contemporaries and me through years of hard work and research—to build on. Thanks to the Internet, websites like YouTube, gadgets like iPods, DVDs and CDs, we can be in every home in the world. It makes me happy to see dedicated young musicians who are also committed performers. I wish them a bright and successful future and I am sure that our classical music and legacy will flourish not only in India but all over the world. I am also heartened by the response of the rest of the world to our country and its musical tradition.
One area that touches me deeply is culture. Reared on a diet of tradition and continuity, it is challenging to live in a modern world with classical values. Yet, I chose to belong to a system where oral knowledge is passed from guru to student during actual music lessons. I often feel I am standing at a crossroads. Where do we go from here? How will classical music evolve? There is a deluge of pop and so-called fusion, remixed ragas and experimental music—great work is being done. The instant success of any of these, as opposed to the long hours of dedication required in the traditional set-up, sometimes stands in the way of progress. I think it is wonderful to imbibe from different cultures all over the world, but let’s not forget who we are or what we have to offer. We need to be, first and foremost, proud of ourselves, of our own accomplishments. Exposure to the arts is mandatory to ensure true appreciation of any medium. At the same time, while modernizing, we must not lose our traditional infrastructures. It will indeed be a sad day for all of us if our musical traditions, that date back more than 5000 years, were to be sacrificed at the altar of modernity. It is crucial that historic and contemporary cultures merge with one another to preserve a uniquely Indian way of life. We must ensure that modernization in our country occurs, as far as possible, in keeping with historical trends. We should be proud of these trends as they have brought us to where we stand today. We must never forget our roots.
Introduction to Aanvikshiki – An Excerpt
Let me begin with a story.
There was once a child. Whenever he did something wrong, others used to tell him, ‘Why are you making so many mistakes? Why can’t you understand things well? Can’t you think properly?’
When the child went to school, he was brought up in an examination system instead of an education system. When he did not do well in his exams, his parents and teachers used to say, ‘Why can’t you study properly? Think about what we tell you, otherwise you will not only fail in your exams but also fail in life.’
As a teenager, he fell in love and had his heart broken. His friends told him, ‘We had told you not to go after that girl. Why did you not take our advice?’
When he got out of college and worked in various companies, his bosses would say, ‘Your effort is important in work—but what matters more is the result. Think about it and you will succeed in your career.’
When he got married, had children and was bestowed with the responsibilities of a householder, the elders in the house would advise him. They said, ‘Remember and understand your duties. No one can run away from it. It is part and parcel of life.’
Then came a stage in his life when his children were settled and he was close to retirement. His friend asked him, ‘Have you thought about what you are going to do post-retirement? Do you have a plan?’ He did not.
Finally, he was old and alone. His wife had passed away, his children and grandchildren were busy with their own lives, and he had nothing much to do. He had all the time in the world to look back and ponder over his life.
While reflecting upon every stage of his life—as a child, student, teenager, professional, homemaker, he was constantly advised by others to ‘think’, to succeed in life and to avoid making mistakes.
He hadn’t really got a chance to do an in-depth reflection on the word ‘think’ at all.
Now, for the first time in his life, he was ‘thinking about thinking’.
But was it too late?
All his life, he had been told by others to think. But no one actually taught him ‘how to think’.
Does the story tell you something? Does it ring a bell inside your head?
Do you think this story has a connection to your life?
If you really ‘think’, you will understand that this is a story about all of us. This is a story of every man and woman, every child, every teenager, every professional, the young and the old, the married and the unmarried.
This is the story of you and me.
Strange but true, one can lead one’s whole life without thinking.
What a tragedy.
Now let us reverse this story.
Imagine if you were taught how to think from the very beginning, the moment your thinking faculties develop. Instead of loading the child with information, if one taught the child the right methods of thinking—analysis, decision-making, prioritizing, planning, structuring, critical evaluation, logic—things would be different. You would question when questions are required. Accept others’ views where it is necessary. Think through all the consequences. Take calculated risks and, without doubt, you will be far more successful. You will be successful not only at the very end, but also at every stage of your life.
In this book, we present something very interesting: Some methods and techniques of thinking, the philosophy of thinking and alternative ways of thinking. This book is simple yet profound. It will lead you to something that will ignite your mind and intellect.
In a sure yet subtle way, it will change your thinking. It will add a new dimension to your views about life in general. I hope the book becomes a silent killer. It will kill various misassumptions you had in the past. It will kill your ignorance and make you happier. If understood from the right perspective, it will kill your ego. You may die internally once, only to live a full life again.
Most importantly, you will enjoy this journey—it is fun. It will help you discover yourself all over again.
Let us call this process an adventure in thinking.
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