The Day Average Joe walked into Harvard

Thirty years ago, I left school barely able to hold a conversation in English. Writing was a distant dream — a country I had no visa for.

My parents, bless them, believed in me more than I ever did in myself. They pledged gold to send me to NIIT every morning from 7am to 9am. I would then take the bus to RKM Vivekananda College, Chennai for my B.Com every evening from 4pm to 8pm. In between, from 11am to 3pm, six days a week, I scooped ice cream at Baskin Robbins — their second outlet in India, right near my home.

Eighteen months of DOS, C, C++, Java, and MS Access. Long lab sessions staring at what I called a "smart-box." I scored in the top percentile. And then I prostrated before my parents and said — “I have no plans to save the world from Y2K”.

They pledged their newly bought house next. For my MBA. No parent should ever have to do that. No son should ever forget it, I say.

Campus placement at RPG Retail followed — a decent salary at the turn of the millennium, when jobs were genuinely hard to find. 

What came next felt like a long relay race across fourteen extraordinary years — Musicworld, Foodworld, Central Malls by the Future Group, United Colors of Benetton, Cafe Coffee Day, and Royal Enfield. 

Each baton pass shaped me more than I understood at the time.

Twenty years ago, I became the first Indian to pioneer Airport Retail — at the country's first PPP greenfield airport in Bangalore. That single chapter handed me a confidence I had never owned before, and a reputation that quietly preceded me across the Indian retail industry.

Fifteen years of Strategy Advisory and Consulting later, something stirred. In August 2024, I began exploring the Senior Executive Leadership Program at Harvard Business School. I enrolled in December 2025. A fat tuition fee. Full-on debt.

My maiden trip to Boston was equal parts surreal and stunning. 

Standing in the rain outside the Mumbai Consulate in mid-July. A 90-second visa interview. Four tense minutes at Boston Logan — answering a curious officer's questions while he read my HBS invitation letter with what felt like deliberate slowness.

And then — the campus. The Baker Library. One hundred and fifty case studies across nine months, led by eighteen of the world's finest teachers, professors, and human beings.

My opinions mattered in that classroom. They rarely shifted. But my lens changed — permanently.

In the closing session, I told our Dean: "I came here in January 2026 hungry and impatient. I am leaving as a human being — taught humility, and to live with Purpose."

On 11 September 2026, forty-eight rockstars of the 22nd SELP-India batch stood outside Baker Hall together. I felt equal, grateful, and ready.

Average Joe. Done well, I say.

I still have Miles To Go.

Boston Days - Part 5

Merchandise, Memories and Monetising Legacy

(I am writing “Boston Days” as a series of articles for quick reference for myself and other retail pilgrims. This article covers the “Merchandising opportunity in India”)

I wasn’t expecting a retail moment inside a Harvard Business School campus. But that’s the thing about retail — it finds you.

The COOP, run jointly by the MIT and Harvard communities, sits unobtrusively within the HBS campus. I almost walked past it. I’m glad I didn’t.

What struck me first was the depth. Not just the range of merchandise, but the depth within each category. Sizes, colours, variants — all available. Not just displayed. Actually in stock. 

Anyone who has spent years in Indian retail will know exactly why that distinction matters. Range is easy to claim. Availability is harder to deliver.

I moved through each section the way I always do in a retail format that has something to say — slowly, observantly. 

The pricing was nominal — deliberately so. This store isn’t trying to extract maximum value from a captive audience. It is serving a community. That restraint speaks to a retail philosophy I find increasingly rare, and quietly admirable.

The staff were warm and unhurried. Not trained-smile warm. Actually warm.

Before visiting, I had already browsed thecoop.com — same range, same brand identity, consistent experience across channels. I was quietly impressed. 

Right until I noticed there was no click-and-collect option for online orders. No store pick-up. In 2026. From an institution that has arguably shaped modern management thinking worldwide. I had to smile.

But that gap aside, the COOP does something far more important than sell merchandise. It monetises legacy. 

Harvard and MIT merchandise carries an aspirational weight that no marketing budget can manufacture. 

People don’t just buy a mug or a hoodie. They buy belonging. They buy aspiration. They buy a story they want to be part of.

And that’s when my mind travelled back home.

India’s IITs and IIMs command exactly that kind of emotional currency. I have met people across the country — and across the world — for whom an IIT or IIM connection is a life-defining identity. 

Alumni who wear that association with quiet, deep pride. Aspirants who dream of it. Parents who speak of it with reverence.

That is not just brand equity. That is retail gold.

And yet, what exists on the ground? 

IIM Indore has Merchand-I — sincere and meaningful, but modest in scale. IIT Madras runs a campus gift shop online. CampusMall powers online stores across several institutions. 

Third-party aggregators sell branded apparel without institutional ownership, campus presence or meaningful curation.

None of it adds up to a retail strategy.

If I were to seriously consider a start-up opportunity when I return to India, this would be the first one I’d put on the table. 

The market is real, the aspiration is built, and the white space is hiding in plain sight.

The COOP didn’t happen by accident. 

It is the result of a community deciding that its brand deserved a serious, well-executed retail expression. Someone needs to make that case to India’s premier institutions.

The brand is already built. The store is simply waiting to open.

(I am writing “Boston Days” as a series of articles for quick reference for myself and other retail pilgrims.)

Read Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8 and Part 9 here.

Reflections: I didn’t sign up for this

It was a cold Saturday morning during end-January 2010. I was reading the Harvard Business Review (HBR) magazine outside the office of the Chairman of Café Coffee Day (CCD). 

It was a ritual at CCD that every 10 days, Late Mr. VG Siddhartha would meet the All India Business Development Team which I was heading, along with our CEO, COO and the Operations team.

We would display the potential real estate opportunities on a PPT, with my colleagues joining virtually from all across India. By the end of the meeting, we would collectively take a decision whether to lease or not the space, based on various metrics.

I was just into the role, and it was my 4th meeting or so with this elite group. 

When the Chairman came out of the Conference Room from the previous meeting, he saw me waiting outside with a puzzled look. This kept repeating over the next 2 times. The 10th floor was access-restricted, which means only a select few could access it.

A couple days later during a one-on one, my CEO told me to come only after he sends me a BBM (remember!) & not earlier. I gave a blank look to which he enquired what was the reason.

I said, I come to the 10th floor a tad earlier, just to read the HBR magazine as I couldn’t it afford otherwise to buy. Now, he gave me a puzzled look too.

When I met the cafe team at Dharmshala, 2010

Ahead of the next meeting, my CEO told me to come early and read the HBR, as advised by the Chairman. The news had gone to him, after all. 

I was a bit surprised and embarrassed at the same time; but then it was ok to chew my ego & read the HBR magazine when possible. And that’s what mattered finally.

16 years later, I was taking the evening cab from Hotel Taj Lands End after the completion of the first Module of the Senior Leadership Program (SELP) offered by Harvard Business School (HBS). 

I kept staring at the Mumbai skyline 360*. When I was crossing Kurla, I wondered how the baby born at Sion Hospital 5 decades ago, was now a big boy and was a student at the prestigious Harvard University (Mumbai camp). 

And he would soon become a Graduate (fingers crossed) at the Boston campus of HBS by the end of 2026!

All through the 35-min drive (which felt almost eternal), I was gathering all that happened during these past 15 days.

I was slowly absorbing what I have learned from four top Professors who had descended to India from Boston, exclusive to teach and to share their knowledge with us.

The 46 incredible people in our batch represent various industries, vocations and businesses, from all across India, the Middle East & the Philippines.

It would take me a lifetime, perhaps, to understand the kind of impact that this year-long course would create on a professional like me.

I had embraced the Retail Industry at a young age of 19 almost by chance, as a waiter scooping ice-cream at Baskin Robbins in Chennai in the year 1997.

Ever since, I have never looked back away from the Indian Retail Industry. Not that the other industries (or countries) are any less attractive or financially rewarding, but my roots were and are in the Indian Retail Industry and I shall remain here forever.

The Leadership lessons from over 30+ case studies that we have discussed, disagreed, debated and left them open-ended – for, that’s how cases are done - with my Professors and batch mates were an eye opener on Leadership.

After all, one of the key roles of a Leader, according to me, is to be a good listener first.

Before we meet again in less than 12 weeks, we have a lot of reflections (and perhaps some executions at workplace as well) to be done on what has already been taught, as well as take up other online assignments as part of the Course.

When Prof. Stefan Thomke asked me a few days back about the course and my leaning towards it, I simply said, “I didn’t sign up for this Prof; I thought it was a going to be a 3-feet swimming pool where I could play and have fun and lo behold, this is an ocean. And by the way, I do not know swimming either”. 

But then, I do not have a choice but to uphold the values of being a student (and later on, an alumni) of the world’s most prestigious “Harvard” badge. I assured him, I will do my best. 

As Amitabh Bachchan would quip in a different context in the film K3G (2001), “Prampara hai beta, Paramapara hai…”

Loving this avatar as an eternal student of Retail. And I have Miles To Go, after all.