Milind Soman - Made in India: a memoir

I do not believe that I am made of the stuff which constitutes heroes.

Edgar Rice Burroughs, A Princess of Mars

When I was about five, my pet rabbit, Benjamin, wandered out into the snow and froze to death.

I realize that this is a somewhat unconventional way to begin a book that is part memoir, part random-reflections-on-life and part unsolicitedand unintendedadvice column. But there is a reason for it.

For a few years now, never mind the hat I happen to be wearing at the timeand I wear several: entrepreneur, fitness activist, runner, actor, motivational speakerI am often asked to share the story of my struggle. How, for instance, did I overcome adversity, in all its different manifestations, to emerge triumphant? What inner reserves of strength and resilience did I reach for when life had me on the mat? Which watershed moment was it, when, traumatized by something vile the universe had lobbed at me, I had, suddenly, unexpectedly, seen the way ahead with crystal-like clarity?

You are an inspirational figure, Milind, I am told. Hearing about your journey will be hugely motivating for us.

Im afraid I look a little blank at such times.

The thing is, and I am not being facetious, life has not been a struggle for me. I have seldom encountered what I would term adversity. I have never planned seriously for my future, or pursued a grand dream single-mindedly. There has been no one defining moment or event that changed the course of my life and set me on a path to happiness or success. I guess I simply have been very lucky.

Friends tell me thats hogwash. They tell me that it is my nature, the way I view things that have happened to me, which makes me look at my life in this way. Maybe theyre right. Maybe, if I think really hard, I will be able to recall incidents that others would construe as traumatic, but which left no lasting scar on my psyche. That kind of regression, however, would involve a great deal of effort and serve no purpose except to prove someone elses point; such an exercise holds no interest for me.

Be that as it may, given that this is the case, it fairly begs the question I have been asking myself ever since this book project was first proposed: Who would be interested in reading about my life? It has been an interesting life, sure; even an exciting one (at times); but largely hurdle-free and, therefore, hardly what I would consider inspirational. There are so many otherscancer survivors, top sportspeople, first-generation millionaires, breakthrough scientists, acid-attack victims who still manage to smile, and so many morewhose very lives are an inspiration. It is they who should be writing books like this, it is their stories that we can all benefit from reading!

I still have no answer to my question, but since my publishers tell me there will be people who would be interested in a book like this, I agreed to put in the necessary time, effort and focus to write it. If you are reading this, you are probably one of those people. When you have turned the last page, then, maybe you could write in and tell me why you picked up this book in the first place, and what you got out of reading it. I would really appreciate thatI hate loose ends.

Speaking of loose endsBenjamin. When I was trawling my memory for an early, potentially traumatic incident from my life that might have had an impact on me in later life, his unexpected loss was the only thing that seemed to fit the bill. I suppose, somewhere in my subconscious mind, I realized then, for the first time, that nothing lasts forever.

That must have hurt, but it was hardly traumatic. Its not a concrete memory, but I know I rationalized that potentially devastating wisdom to myself soon after, with the addition of a corollarynothing lasts, and thats ok. I dont know where that came from, but it worked. Im pretty sure I got over Benjamin in a couple of weeks.