There is something wonderfully optimistic about the Economic Times 40 under Forty awards. Every year, a room fills up with mostly young people who have built companies, transformed industries, created jobs, raised capital, challenged conventions and, in a few cases, acquired a valuation larger than the GDP of a small country.
And then there is me: a 60+ year old member of the jury, surrounded by this buzzing energy, nodding sagely, while mentally trying to decipher some of the new lingo being spouted. This raises an obvious question: what is a senior citizen doing judging 40 under Forty? I assume ET believes in diversity. Or perhaps the organisers want someone who remembers a world before Google, ChatGPT and smartphones. My presence certainly provides historical context. Rather like a heritage building that has been retained for atmosphere, while everything around it gets redeveloped.
Each year, I meet these extraordinary young people and come away with two emotions. The first is reassurance that India's future is in very good hands. The second is relief: thank God I started my career when I did. If I were 40 today, competing with this generation, I am quite sure I would not make the shortlist. I might not even make the long list.
And what a gathering it was! The future creme de la creme mingling under one roof: founders, corporate professionals, successful NRIs, sportspeople, lawyers, management consultants and assorted other overachievers. Everyone is dapper, I suppose. The old corporate uniform I am accustomed to, of suit, tie and polished shoes has clearly been disrupted too. Jackets with T-shirts, trousers with sneakers are perfectly acceptable. Even formal wear, it appears, has a startup version.
The vocabulary of business has changed dramatically, and this alone disqualifies me from most conversations at the awards function. In my generation, a runway was where planes took off from. Burn was something you treated with Burnol. Cloud meant it was going to rain and you should bring an umbrella. And an exit was something we looked for in a cinema hall, usually because the film was bad. Today, all of these are business strategies. A startup has a runway. It has a burn rate. It moves to the cloud. It uses AI. And eventually, the founders plan an exit, which, unlike my cinema hall exits, is meant to make them richer rather than merely relieved!
Being on the jury is fascinating. We assess achievement, leadership, innovation, impact, scale and resilience across business, social work, sports and fashion, often with the gravity of a Supreme Court bench. The discussions also reveal how success has changed-from a good job and company car to founding a startup, disrupting an industry, raising $100 million, becoming a unicorn and turning angel investor by 35.
Before shortlisting, my phone turns into a mini call centre. Old friends resurface with candidates they insist are the most deserving in Indian enterprise. The calls begin, "I don't usually do this, but..." and end with a WhatsApp biodata. Fortunately, the jury remains immune to lobbying, though I may have lost a few friendships.
There is, however, one drawback to being named 40 under Forty. For the rest of your life, people are going to expect you to live up to it. The trophy will sit on a shelf, the photographs will disappear down the Instagram feed. The real award will be as to how you will be remembered for what you built, whom you took along with you, and what you left behind.
So, here's a little unsolicited advice for this year's winners. At my age, unsolicited advice is one of the few privileges you get for free.
