I was twelve years old when I first had vegetables with my meal. Once a year, I’d eat vadai and a sweet, a 50-gram packet of milk khova split five ways. Every other meal was leftover idlis or rice and dal. Except for my mother. My mother drank water and went to bed. I used to think it was her favourite food.
I grew up in the slums of Madipakkam, Chennai. My mother worked three jobs to raise my four siblings and I. I helped her however I could. For five years till I was thirteen, I spent an hour a day going from house to house with a box of idlis and a small collection tin.
Each idli was 25 paise. I remember a lot of things from my childhood. I remember not having notebooks to write in and torn uniforms, but I also remember knowing wanting to do more, reach beyond.
I put myself through school, went to BITS Pilani and then IIMA on scholarships, and decided to open a business. Foodking was launched with Rs. 2000 in hand and a hunch that the idli-selling held a much deeper story. Today, the company’s turnover is over Rs. 12 crores.
I began knocking on doors with idlis in my hand. Today, I dream of providing employment to illiterate and semi-literate people. Only my convictions have been the same. Hard work never fails. No job is below your dignity. Empowerment lies in the mind.
