Sandeep Goyal - Konjo

KONJO

Fighting Spirit

SANDEEP GOYAL

This book is for

Fumio Oshima, my mentor. Thank you, Sir, for always showing me the way.
Tanya, my anchor. Thank you, Tan, for being with me, always.
Gullu, Rajesh and Ruchira, my triumvirate.
Thank you, guys, for being my pillars of strength.

CONTENTS

At thirty-five, I became President of Rediffusion DY&R, one of Indias largest and most respected ad agencies.

At thirty-eight, I became Group CEO of Zee Telefilms, Indias largest broadcaster and only publicly listed media company.

A few weeks before I turned forty, I resigned from Zee.

One day, I was one of Indias highest paid professional executives. The next day, it was all gone. My Merc, my memberships of the Chambers and the Belvedere, my memberships of the Bombay Gym and Willingdon, my secretaries and executive assistants, my retinue of hangers-on, my myriad friends, my every-night-a-new-celebration-invites. Overnight they were all gone.

My high-flying career had inexplicably come to a sudden halt. I was always a good student. I was a University gold-medallist in my B.A. Honours. Post my MBA from FMS Delhi, I had only seen an ever-spiralling steep growth curve professionally. There was success, more success, and yet more success with every passing year. I worked hard, very very hard. Rewards followed. I was lucky too. My progress from a mobike to a Maruti to a Mercedes had taken me barely a dozen years. I had begun to enjoy the success, even take it for granted.

I can perhaps never really pinpoint what went wrong at Zee. It was a combination of factors. Maybe I should never have taken that job in the first place. Maybe I was just the wrong guy in the wrong place. Maybe I was too young. Or in too much of a hurry. Or I never adjusted to the companys culture. Or it was just bad karma.

Reality took a while to sink in. My mobile stopped ringing. Friends started avoiding me. I started avoiding parties. I was hurting deep inside. Suddenly, I was all alone.

My wife, Tanya, was my only real support. She, more than anyone else, understood what I was going through. It took her a while to coax me to open up. Talk about what had gone wrong. Introspect. Do a reality check. Think ahead, rather than think about the past.

I brooded. I wallowed in self-pity. I got angry at myself, and at the world. I hated not being in the limelight. I hated not being the centre of attention. I hated everyone and everything around me. I hated my own shadow. I hated myself.

It took me three months to piece myself together again. Tanya and I would sit on our 22nd floor terrace for hours and talk and talk as the sky went from blue to black and back to blue again. My self-confidence had got momentarily dented, but deep down my self-belief was intact. One day, I decided I was going to win again. I started to dream.

The first thing I told myself: The less a life depends on another, the better it is. It may surprise you to know that I could not at that stage of my high-flying career even send out an email on my own! I had had secretaries and assistants to do it for me all these years. I quickly taught myself the basics.

Next, I reminded myself: The evil that men do lives after them, the good is oft interred with their bones. This hiatus had shown me who my real friends were. In my earlier successes I had showered favours indiscriminately. Going forward, I shed a lot of friends.

Last but not the least, I reiterated in my mind: God helps those who help themselves. One fine morning, I walked into the hallowed portals of Dentsu Inc., the worlds largest advertising agency. I had come to seek a joint venture with them for India. At that moment, I did not have a company of my own, I did not even have an office. I had no employees, no clients, no credentials really to woo the world leader. I just had my self-confidence and my self-belief.

I kept my head down, I remained focused, I worked relentlessly to achieve what looked like an improbable dream. I used my intellect, my wits and my experience to try and win Dentsus hand. No one gave me even a half-chance. Except God and Tanya.

Nine months after I left Zee, I kissed success again. Dentsu and I signed a JV. It was a coup. The Indian ad and media industry were agog. My mobile phone just would not stop ringing!

In January 2011, after seven glorious years, and after building Dentsu India into a Rs 1200 crore entity (Indias 4th or 5th largest ad agency), I exited my JV with the Japanese giant.

I exited right on top. I exited young. I exited decently rich.

The pursuit of a JV with Dentsu was a foolhardy project. But I was fortunate to tie up with the world leader. But then again, not many gave me a one-in-hundred chance to eventually succeed with the venture itself. We were (despite Dentsus global size and stature) little known in India. We were latecomers to the market. We did not have a client list that would automatically become a magnet for talent to join us.

To succeed, I knew, I needed Konjo.

Konjo in Japanese means fighting spirit. It is a combination of willpower, guts, grit, determination, great stamina, courage, fortitude, perseverance and tenacity in the face of physical hardship, pain or even death.

My Konjo story spans almost eight years. From pursuing the joint venture, to launching it, to growing it into a phenomenal success, to selling it. I hope you enjoy my story.

I just could not sleep. The drone of the jet engines roared in my ears. I turned for the nth time in my seat. I knew it was futile. I was just too tense. I straightened the seat and sat up straight. I switched on the bright overhead light. All the other passengers were fast asleep. I sipped some water. It did not help. I thought I would watch a movie. I toyed aimlessly with the remote for a while, flicking channels. But I was just too restless inside. The channels were just a blur. I switched off the light, reclined the seat again and closed my eyes. But I knew that I was not going to get any sleep. I resigned myself to more tossing and turning. Tokyo Narita was still five hours away.

I thought back to Fridays meetings in Singapore.

I was the third, and last, to present. Sam Balsara of Madison was first in the line-up. Arvind Sharma of Leo Burnett was next. Both had presented before lunch.

I was slotted for 2.30 p.m. Since the Dentsu Asia offices were in a tower that was part of the hotel complex, I had only to walk across the lobby and take the elevator up.

I looked at my watch. It was 2.10. I was early.

The receptionist was expecting me. I was ushered into the conference room. The Dentsu team would join me at the appointed hour, she said.

The laptop I had requested was already on the conference table. So was the projector. I would need IT support, I said, as I took out my presentation CD from my bag. She looked at me a bit quizzically. I did not have the heart to tell her how technologically challenged I was. I had the CD in my hand, but did not know how to boot up the computer or to set up the projector. I had never done it on my own before. She must have registered my helplessness because she took the CD from me and soon had the whole system on go. I thanked her as she left the room to fetch me some coffee.