The sales for that year totaled more than one crore, or ten million rupees, which at the time was the equivalent of $600,000. How could our profit be so small? Yet looking back over the budget, it became clear: the cost of television materials and factory expenses was much higher than expected.
I went home that day, looked at Raj, and finally spoke my mind.
“I want to go back to America.”
Raj looked at me, a stern expression in her eyes, and without a moment’s hesitation, she said, “Let’s go.”
She did not ask why, nor did I discuss any reasons with her. We both were thinking the same thing. Before, I thought Raj would not want to leave her parents, sisters, and brother. Now that I saw Raj was on my side, I felt an enormous sense of relief. A huge weight was lifted off my chest, and for the first time, I realized how much it had been suffocating me. I had wanted to return to America for a long time, but I continually suppressed the idea, thinking we had gone to so much trouble coming to India in the first place, and it would be a mistake to uproot our family, leaving our parents and relatives behind once again.
I also did not want to let Satish down. He and his other partner had put great confidence in me, so while I felt relieved about my decision, I also felt guilty for leaving the business. It was not in my nature to give up, but I knew leaving was the right thing to do. I could not go on much longer in a business culture where people considered you foolish for speaking openly and honestly. I was thought of as naïve, a dummy who didn’t know what was going on, whereas in America, I was respected as intelligent in making decisions and achieving results.
On my next trip to New Delhi, I told Satish my decision.
“I will stay two more months with the new company to make a smooth transition,” I said, “but I do not fit in this culture. It is time for us to go.”
Rather than blaming a particular person or pointing out the problems with the business, I took it upon myself to say the culture simply was not a good fit. Satish listened quietly, absorbing the news.
“Bedi Saheb, it is your decision,” he said. “I understand it has not given the profit we were expecting. We can call a meeting tomorrow at my residence to inform the other partners as well.”
The next day, I sat around the dining room table with Satish and the other partners. When Satish told them my decision, one of the partners said, “Bedi Saheb, we are not going to let you go back to the States. Tell us what we need to do to help you run the Pithampur factory.”
Another partner asked, “Why do you want to go back? Share with us so if there are problems with the factory, we will try to rectify them.”
Again, I stated, “I am not a good fit for this culture. I have failed you. Satish placed his confidence in me when I did not have any experience in the television manufacturing industry. I have failed all of you.”
Before I knew it, tears poured from my eyes. I excused myself to go to the bathroom, and once I calmed down, I returned to the dining room. Everyone gave me a hug, saying they respected my decision. At the same time, no one came out in the open to say it wasn’t me who failed them. No one took responsibility to say that things did not run smoothly and there were problems from the start.
During my last days with the company, my partners tried to persuade me to stay, and one of them threw a party for me. Being in high spirits, everyone began singing parts of songs, and at one point, someone said, “Bedi Saheb, you also sing a song.”
One song came to my mind. As I sang in Hindi, I put all my emotion into every word.
Sab kuchh sikha hamane, na sikhi hoshiyaari
Sach hai duniyawaalon, ki ham hain anaadi
(I have learned everything, not learned cunningness. This is the truth to the world that I am clumsy.)
I continued the song, substituting my own experiences in each line. Everyone became quiet as they listened. They had not known until then the depths of my struggle.
The following months were a whirlwind of activity. There was much to do to prepare for our departure for the States, but after I made the decision to leave the television manufacturing business, Satish talked me into joining him and two other partners in his leather jacket export business. With no job prospects in America, I would need a way to support my family.
“It will be the best of both worlds,” Satish said. “You can live in the States, selling leather jackets there, and you can travel to India on business.”
Satish assured me the business could potentially earn multi-crores. Since a crore was equal to about ten million rupees, we would be millionaires. I decided to invest in the business. At my request, Mr. Jones wired me the $18,000 I needed to become a partner in the company. After spending a few months learning about the trade of leather garments, in January 1991, I spent time in Germany showing wholesale buyers our leather jacket samples. One of Satish’s partners had a son named Vinay Jain, whom he sent to Germany, also, and together we tried to expand the business. The son’s wife, Seema, joined us later on, and she became involved in every aspect of the business. She tried to control
