It was probably the April of 1974. Bangalore was
getting warm and
gulmohars were blooming at the IISc campus. I was the
only girl in my
postgraduate department and was staying at the
ladies' hostel. Other girls
were pursuing research in different departments of
Science.
I was looking forward to going abroad to complete a
doctorate in
computer science. I had been offered scholarships from
Universities in the
US. I had not thought of taking up a job in India.
One day, while on the way to my hostel from our
lecture-hall complex,
I saw an
advertisement on the notice board. It was a standard job-requirement
notice from the famous automobile company Telco (now
Tata Motors).
It stated that the company required young, bright
engineers, hardworking and
with an excellent academic background, etc.
At the bottom was a small line: "Lady candidates
need not apply."
I read it and was very upset. For the first time in
my life I was up
against gender discrimination.
Though I was not keen on taking up the job, I saw it
as a challenge. I had
done extremely well in academics, better than most of
my male peers. Little
did I know then that in real life academic excellence
is not enough to be
successful.
After reading the notice I went fuming to my room. I
decided to inform the
topmost person in Telco's management about the
injustice the company was
perpetrating. I got a postcard and started to write,
but there was a
problem: I did not know who headed Telco.
I thought it must be one of the Tatas. I knew JRD
Tata was the head of the
Tata Group; I had seen his pictures in newspapers
(actually, Sumant
Moolgaokar was the company's chairman then). I took
the card, addressed it
to JRD and started writing. To this day I remember
clearly what I wrote.
"The great Tatas have always been pioneers. They
are the people who started
the basic infrastructure industries in India, such as
iron and steel,
chemicals, textiles and locomotives. They have cared
for higher education
in India since 1900 and they were responsible for the
establishment of the
Indian Institute of Science. Fortunately, I study
there. But I am surprised
how a company such as Telco is discriminating on the
basis of gender."
I posted the letter and forgot about it. Less than 10
days later, I
received a telegram stating that I had to appear for
an interview at
Telco's Pune facility at the company's expense. I was
taken aback by the
telegram. My hostel mate told me I should use the
opportunity to go to Pune
free of cost and buy them the famous Pune saris for
cheap! I collected Rs
30 each from everyone who wanted a sari. When I look
back, I feel like
laughing at the reasons for my going, but back then
they seemed good enough
to make the trip.
It was my first visit to Pune and I immediately fell
in love with the city.
To this day it remains dear to me. I feel as much at
home in Pune as I do
in Hubli, my hometown. The place changed my life in
so many ways. As
directed, I went to Telco's Pimpri office for the
interview.
There were six people on the panel and I realised
then that this was
serious business.
"This is the girl who wrote to JRD," I
heard somebody whisper as soon as I
entered the room. By then I knew for sure that I
would not get the job. The
realisation abolished all fear from my mind, so I was
rather cool while the
interview was being conducted.
Even before the interview started, I reckoned the
panel was biased, so I
told them, rather impolitely, "I hope this is
only a technical interview."
They were taken aback by my rudeness, and even today
I am ashamed about my
attitude. The panel asked me technical questions and
I answered all of
them.
Then an elderly gentleman with an affectionate voice
told me, "Do you know
why we said lady candidates need not apply? The
reason is that we have
never employed any ladies on the shop floor. This is
not a co-ed college;
this is a factory. When it comes to academics, you
are a first ranker
throughout. We appreciate that, but people like you
should work in research
laboratories."
I was a young girl from small-town Hubli. My world
had been a limited
place.
I did not know the ways of large corporate houses and
their difficulties,
so I answered, "But you must start somewhere,
otherwise no woman will ever
be able to work in your factories."
Finally, after a long interview, I was told I had
been successful. So this
was what the future had in store for me. Never had I
thought I would take
up a job in Pune. I met a shy young man from
Karnataka there, we became
good friends and we got married.
It was only after joining Telco that I realized who
JRD was: the uncrowned
king of Indian industry. Now I was scared, but I did
not get to meet him
till I was transferred to Bombay. One day I had to
show some reports to Mr
Moolgaokar, our chairman, who we all knew as SM. I
was in his office on the
first floor of Bombay House (the Tata headquarters)
when, suddenly JRD
walked in. That was the first time I saw "appro
JRD". Appro means "our" in
Gujarati. This was the affectionate term by which
people at Bombay House
called him.
I was feeling very nervous, remembering my postcard
episode. SM introduced
me nicely, "Jeh (that's what his close
associates called him), this young
woman is an engineer and that too a postgraduate.
She is the first woman to work on the Telco shop
floor." JRD looked at me.
I was praying he would not ask me any questions about
my interview (or the
postcard that preceded it).
Thankfully, he didn't. Instead, he remarked. "It
is nice that girls are
getting into engineering in our country. By the way,
what is your name?"
"When I joined Telco I was Sudha Kulkarni,
Sir," I replied. "Now I am Sudha
Murthy." He smiled and kindly smile and started
a discussion with SM. As
for me, I almost ran out of the room.
After that I used to see JRD on and off. He was the
Tata Group chairman and
I was merely an engineer. There was nothing that we
had in common. I was in
awe of him.
One day I was waiting for Murthy, my husband, to pick
me up after office
hours. To my surprise I saw JRD standing next to me.
I did not know how to
react. Yet again I started worrying about that
postcard. Looking back, I
realise JRD had forgotten about it. It must have been
a small incident for
him, but not so for me.
"Young lady, why are you here?" he asked.
"Office time is over." I said,
"Sir, I'm waiting for my husband to come and
pick me up." JRD said, "It is
getting dark and there's no one in the corridor.
I'll wait with you till your husband comes."
I was quite used to waiting for Murthy, but having
JRD waiting alongside
made me extremely uncomfortable.
I was nervous. Out of the corner of my eye I looked
at him. He wore a
simple white pant and shirt. He was old, yet his face
was glowing. There
wasn't any air of superiority about him. I was
thinking, "Look at this
person. He is a chairman, a well-respected man in our
country and he is
waiting for the sake of an ordinary employee."
Then I saw Murthy and I rushed out. JRD called and
said, "Young lady, tell
your husband never to make his wife wait again."
In 1982 I had to resign
from my job at Telco. I was reluctant to go, but I
really did not have a
choice. I was coming down the steps of Bombay House
after wrapping up my
final settlement when I saw JRD coming up. He was
absorbed in thought. I
wanted to say goodbye to him, so I stopped. He saw me
and paused.
Gently, he said, "So what are you doing, Mrs
Kulkarni?" (That was the way
he always addressed me.) "Sir, I am leaving
Telco."
"Where are you going?" he asked.
"Pune, Sir. My husband is starting a
company called Infosys and I'm shifting to
Pune."
"Oh! And what will you do when you are
successful."
"Sir, I don't know whether we will be
successful." "Never start with
diffidence," he advised me. "Always start
with confidence. When you are
successful you must give back to society. Society
gives us so much; we must
reciprocate. I wish you all the best."
Then JRD continued walking up the stairs. I stood
there for what seemed
like a millennium. That was the last time I saw him
alive. Many years later
I met Ratan Tata in the same Bombay House, occupying
the chair JRD once
did. I told him of my many sweet memories of working
with Telco. Later, he
wrote to me, "It was nice hearing about Jeh from
you. The sad part is that
he's not alive to see you today."
I consider JRD a great man because, despite being an
extremely busy person,
he valued one postcard written by a young girl
seeking justice. He must
have received thousands of letters everyday. He could
have thrown mine
away, but he didn't do that. He respected the
intentions of that unknown
girl, who had neither influence nor money, and gave
her an opportunity in
his company. He did not merely give her a job; he
changed her life and
mindset forever.
Close to 50 per cent of the students in today's
engineering colleges are
girls. And there are women on the shop floor in many
industry segments. I
see these changes and I think of JRD. If at all time
stops and asks me what
I want from life, I would say I wish JRD were alive
today to see how the
company we started has grown. He would have enjoyed
it wholeheartedly.
My love and respect for the House of Tata remains
undiminished by the
passage of time. I always looked up to JRD. I saw him
as a role model for
his simplicity, his generosity, his kindness and the
care he took of his
employees. Those blue eyes always reminded me of the
sky; they had the same
vastness and magnificence.
-Sudha Murthy
(Sudha Murthy is a widely published writer and
chairperson of the Infosys
Foundation involved in a number of social development
initiatives. Infosys
chairman Narayana Murthy is her husband.)
