Vinaashakaale vipareetha buddhi pretty much explains the decision of the Sikkapatte Important Company of Karnataka to send out legal notices to three newspapers, seeking legal damages of Rs 2,000 crore (that is a little less than a third of Nandan Nilekani‘s net declared wealth of Rs 7,700 crore), “for loss of reputation and goodwill due to circulation of defamatory articles” in the said publications, presumably following the executive meltdown following N.R. Narayana Murthy‘s return to bossmanship.
Hopefully, the laundry list of impugned articles that have caused Rs 2,000 crore of damages, does not include this spoof letter, from one “R. Murty” to Dr D, published in Panache, the newly launched Friday supplement of The Economic Times.
Respected Dr D:
for loss and reputation and goodwill due to circulation of defamatory articles
I am a good son. I did what was expected of any South Indian Brahmin boy. I stood first in class (to nobody’s surprise) and I learnt the subtleties of the pre-Trinity and post-Trinity composers of Carnatic music by the time I was 10. I went to Cornell to pursue my degree, to MIT for my master’s and then to Harvard. Aced all of them. Didn’t even have to try.
I worked at Microsoft, which I would probably have headed if I weren’t called back, and I shall have more to say about that later.
I married the daughter and heiress of the TVS family (she’s a hottie). Can a son be more perfect than I have been? So far so good, and you must remember that I was not yet 30 before all of this happened. Then the fall. All right, not so much a catastrophe, but certainly a diversion from all of the world-conquering and giant-killing I had done after leaving Bengaluru in my teens.
My father returned to his old firm, ostensibly because it was in trouble, but, some whispered, because he was also at a loose end. I don’t want to say which is truer, but the fact is that he did return to take charge of something that he had given up. And he took me with him. He did not really ask me, so much as inform me. “Son, let’s set this thing right together.” I was made his assistant. Seriously? I thought.
What the heck kind of job is that for someone of my skills and background? Set up meetings and get the coffee? Nonetheless, I reported for work and have endured the drudgery of working with and reporting to my father.
I am bored out of my brilliant skull.
I want to head Microsoft and Apple and want to run start-ups that take on Google and Facebook. But, I’m managing this gigantic call centre instead. Not even managing it, mind you, merely drawing up timetables for the old man to do it. I don’t know what else I’m expected to do. It’s been a full year now and there seems to be no end in sight. How do I tell dad that I’ve had enough?
R Murty executive assistant to the chairman, Infosys
I feel your pain. Here are five ways to get your father to let you go:
1) Show up for work on Friday in your Speedos. 2) Interrupt his speech at the AGM with the question: “Why did you come back, dad?” 3) Include slides of your family holidays (dad in his shorts!) in his next PPT presentation to the Americans. 4) Repeat everything he says at board meetings. 5) Send out from his ID a message to all employees on the dos and don’ts of topless sunbathing.
I hope this helps. If it doesn’t, be strong. Go to your mom.
Text: courtesy The Economic Times