Tale of an Audit Encounter

A young, bold, “555” smoking lass from E&Y landed in my factory for a surprise material audit… Coke had this dirty habit of pricking our asses with these unpleasant surprises. I remember her name : Diya. 

After the job was done, I was to take her to the town, host her in the best hotel and make her feel at home. 

As we walked together to the Taj’s palatial room, she surprised me by asking that I stay with her for the evening and through dinner. “I want to share with you my wisdom and sadness,” she said, and with the company’s permission, I agreed. 

But for me, that was a day I’ll never forget in my life.

After the evening coffee and a few bits, we sat listening to each other, and the room filled with the stink of cigarettes… soon, she told me about the Delhi she grew up in. An only child of a wealthy entrepreneurial family, she completed her MBA at IIM after majoring in economics at the Delhi School of Economics. She spoke to me about her Dad’s industries and what they produce. Soon, she said with tears in her eyes, that her Dad’s industries should run differently, but they didn’t. 

That late sober evening, I had a strange experience: the bachelor in me began loosening up, and conversations began to dangle. The setting sun by the sea shone golden through the lace of the room's curtains. I pulled the curtains together. Soon, we moved from black coffee to mellow rum, conscious that I could always get a cab to drive me home. 

How many of us will cross the borders of our lives in some of our intimate conversations? 

“Diya, what are you doing with all this big money you have at home and with yourself?” I asked. She had a quick one-word reply, "Stocks"! For me, it was a new word in my vocabulary. And there was a depth of wisdom falling out of her lips. In my factory uniform, with a red “Coke” emblem embroidered on it, I ran my hands over it and wondered if it was all a vision. 

Then, the rest of the night, the conversation was more a monologue than a dialogue. I don’t remember what we had for dinner or how much rum and coffee followed, but I do remember what she spoke about in the hours that rolled ahead. She told me about a man called Rakesh Jhunjhunwala and something called a portfolio. She went on to say that this man from Maharashtra influenced her and remained her guru. Past midnight, the monologue rolled from stock picking to earnings to ROE … and then to specific stocks. Everything was strange to me… absolutely strange. And in the early hours of the next morning, we hugged each other for a “Good Night”…. 

Even today, my portfolio has a significant footprint of that monologue. And how that room has softly faded in my life… and how we only kissed the shadows and remain strangers for the rest of our lives… 30+ years and still squatting on CRISIL and the family of names she mentioned that night. They look like a sunflower field, each flower looking at the sun.   

FINE