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| Palatial Payoff (Photo credit: cnn.com) |
Pity you haven’t heard of Warm-20. In a proper world, random people stopped and asked the secret of their good health would exclaim: Warm-20! Warm-20! But Warm-20 wasn’t just a health product; it was an unrivaled financial investment. Had all gone as planned, neither I nor my two brothers would have trekked to America seeking jobs and advancement, thanks to an early investment by our father in Warm-20. But things didn’t go according to plan. The hoped for health and financial gains never materialized. And therein lies a tale of mismatched talent and bad marketing.
People should have the opportunity to do whatever they are interested in and earn their livelihood in any legal manner they choose to. No prior conceptions or expectations. Norms begone. If a bunch of Warriers with no record of business acumen wants to start a company, they should be encouraged. Risktakers deserve to be respected. We could use more of them in Kerala and the more diverse, the better! Such was the pro-business sentiment prevalent around the dinner table in our house when, back in the 80s, our father mentioned the impending formation of the Warrier Herbal Products Limited. It was only when he proposed investing family money in this new venture did things get emotional.
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| (Credit: clipartmax.com) |
While it's all fine for others to pursue what they want, when it comes to your own dime or kin, it’s good to keep an eye on reality. When my daughter wanted to major in English, I objected. Not because I had anything against linguistics or doubted her ability but because I realized nobody reads anymore. It's all emojis or audio/visual. I recommended she instead study Chinese.
I brought the same practicality when I weighed my career opportunities. I realized early I had zero talent for business and investment. As a kid I believed things always would stay the same: I will be stuck in the underdeveloped side of Kurumalipuzha, without electricity, roads, and a bridge. A belief in change and a hope for improvement is how you get started in a business. I had neither. It’s only when a Kakkalachi (fortune teller) showed up and said I will go overseas that I began to believe betterment was possible. Perhaps she meant I will cross the river but her words gave me hope.
* * *
The openness and skepticism to risky ventures were both at play when, back at the dinner table, achan (father) brought up the news of a new business startup.
“I heard they are starting a new company in Thrissur,” he said.
“What company, who’s behind it, and what are they making?” Vinod, my younger brother asked rapid-fire. He was in 9th grade. He had a habit of asking pesky questions.
“It’s Machettan and his friends. It’s a herbal products company,” Achan replied.
“More people are turning to Ayurveda,” I said trying to look at the bright side, when instead I wanted to ask "What’s gotten into Machettan?” He after all was retired and leading an idle life. Why this now?
“Sounds like trouble,” Pramod said, raising his voice to be heard. He was in fifth grade and the youngest. “What’s their product?”
“It’s some sort of health and rejuvenation lehyam.” Achan seemed enthused about the business case.
“There already are a lot of those on the market though,” I said.
“Does this group include anyone with business experience?” Pramod asked.
“None directly. But remember Machettan was an executive officer,” Achan continued on his positive note.
“He was in banking. Making and selling a health product is quite another thing,” Vinod, the 9th grader persisted with his doubts.
“Kandamkulathy will eat their lunch,” Pramod said. He had a point. Kandamkulathy was an established herbal medical products company in Thrissur run by traditionally entrepreneurial Christians.
“Machettan and his partners think there's space for more. Besides, they have a superior product.” Achan was on the defence now.
“Why are you asking all these questions? Just listen to you father and do what he says.” Achamma (grandmother) came in. She never liked the freewheeling discussion at the dinner table. Especially the younglings talking so much.
“What’s this super product they are making called?” Pramod asked.
“Warm-20,” Achan answered.
There was dead silence around the table.
“The lehyam they are making is called Warm-20,” Achan repeated, unsure why everyone suddenly went quiet.
“Warm-20? Really? Warm-20?” Vinod stood up and burst out laughing.
Pramod and I joined and all three of us roared with laughter, thumping the table with our hands.
“You kids, shut up. Go wash up and study,” achamma came in again, unable to stand the sight of children laughing at their father—her son.
“What’s there to laugh?” Achan asked, taking no offense but looking amused.
“You are talking about an Ayurvedic product, right?” Vinod asked.
“And it’s called Warm-20?” Pramod followed.
“It's dead on arrival,” I said as we continued laughing uncontrollably, wiping away tears, while Achan sat puzzled.
“Look, Achan, it’s simple,” I said, explaining the skepticism. “No ayurvedic product called Warm-20 will sell, not even if it is amritam (elixir). The name has to be authentic, sanskrit sounding, otherwise it won’t fly regardless of what it can do."
“That’s why they name them Pankajakasthuri or Shilpagandhadhi,” Pramod added.
“Well, we shall see,” Achan didn’t sound convinced by this marketing logic. “This is a new approach."
He paused, then laughing feebly added: “I bought 100 shares in the company!”
We all bent down and rested our foreheads on the table in disbelief.
* * *
Perhaps due to the separation in time and distance, after I got to America, I forgot about the Warm-20’s venture. Instead, I listened to wonderful stories at dinner parties about this guy or that guy getting rich through investments. There was always someone who would pull you aside and talk about investing in phone booths, vending machines, or selling soap in an ingenious scheme guaranteed to make you rich. I remained skeptical but the dot.com era had begun. Everyone was talking about how their investments had quadrupled. I shelved my doubts and got into stocks.
The stocks duly collapsed. I was shocked to see how quickly something can become nothing. The only relief was I had little money to invest. So the losses were equally small.
After the narrow escape from the dot.com bust, I accepted the reality that I was not cut out for the business world. Life became peaceful. But then in the last few years something started bothering me. I was racked with questions about how I had missed out on the GAFAM boom. I could have been a Teslanaire. If only I had gotten into crypto. The feeling can be hard to bear.
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| Holder of Fortune |
While I was ruing missed opportunities, Vinod and Pramod visited Kerala and dug through the family files. That’s when they found it: our father's Warm-20 share certificate. They sent me a copy.
Marketability or not, Warm-20 never achieved its potential. It remained a closely held secret, known only to its promoters and investors. And lenders, who quickly moved in with liquidation proceedings.
But look, this is the thing: Warm-20 might have been a tad bit ahead of its time. People are shedding their Sanskrit chauvinism and opening up to Vitagest, Coronaid, and Poshanil. It's the right time to startup Warm-20's successor.
How about Sweet-60?
