Saturday, 20 December 2025

From the Four P’s to a Fifth P - Purpose:

How an Ordinary Man Became a Changemaker

For most of my professional life, my world revolved around four familiar letters—the four P’s of business: Product, Price, Place, and Promotion. 

Like millions of professionals across the globe, I lived by balance sheets, marketing strategies, revenue targets, and profit margins. 

Decisions were measured in percentages, growth curves, and quarterly outcomes. Success was something that could be quantified, charted, and celebrated in boardrooms.

I was, by all definitions, an ordinary man doing what he had been trained to do—optimize efficiency, maximize returns, and manage risk.

And yet, life has a way of interrupting even the most carefully constructed spreadsheets.

The Moment Numbers Lost Their Meaning

Cancer does not announce itself with a business plan. 

It arrives uninvited, ruthless and indifferent to status, savings, or strategy. 

When cancer entered our lives, it did something no market crash or business failure ever could—it rendered numbers irrelevant.

Suddenly, the metrics that mattered were 
- not profit margins but pain thresholds, 
- not growth curves but survival rates, 
- not revenue streams but hope. 

The language of business failed me, because there was no vocabulary to measure fear, resilience or the quiet dignity of a patient fighting for one more ordinary day.

That was the moment the four P’s began to feel insufficient.

When Compassion Becomes Strategy

Sanjeevani Life Beyond Cancer was not born out of ambition; it was born out of necessity and empathy. 

What began as a personal response to a deeply human crisis soon revealed a disturbing truth—the cancer ecosystem in India, while clinically advanced, is emotionally and socially fragmented.

Treatment exists, but support often does not.

Hospitals heal bodies, but patients and families struggle to navigate fear, finances, stigma, and loneliness. 

Survivorship, when achieved, is rarely accompanied by rehabilitation, dignity, or reintegration into life.

As a man trained in systems and processes, I began to see cancer care not just as a medical challenge, but as a broken value chain—one where the patient stood at the center, yet remained the least empowered stakeholder.

And so, the businessman in me returned—but this time, in service of humanity.

Reimagining the P’s

The skills I had once used to sell products were now applied to design programs of care.

- Marketing insight became advocacy and awareness.
- Financial planning became resource optimization for the underserved. 
- Operational efficiency turned into scalable patient support systems.

Slowly, the new 5 P's Evolved

- Product became Purpose
- Price became Accessibility
- Place became Reach
- Promotion became Voice for the Voiceless
- And a fifth P emerged—People.

Through Sanjeevani Life Beyond Cancer, we built models that place people—not diseases—at the heart of care. From patient navigation and counseling to skill development for survivors, from caregiver training to psychosocial rehabilitation, the organization grew into an ecosystem that walks with a patient before, during, and long after treatment.

Impact Is Not Accidental

Social impact, I have learned, is not charity—it is intentional design. It requires the same rigor as business, but guided by compassion rather than competition. 

Over the years, Sanjeevani’s work has reached over a million lives across multiple states, embedded in hospitals, communities, and families who would otherwise fall through the cracks of the healthcare system.

The irony is not lost on me: the very disciplines that once defined my corporate life—planning, execution, measurement—became the tools through which meaningful social change was possible.

The Changemaker Is an Ordinary Man Who Chose to Care

Receiving the Changemaker Award 2025 is an honor, but it is not a destination. 


If anything, it is a reminder that changemakers are not extraordinary beings. 

They are ordinary people who allow empathy to disrupt routine, who let lived experience challenge comfortable assumptions and who are willing to redefine success.

I did not abandon the four P’s. I expanded them. I allowed them to be guided by conscience.

If this journey has taught me anything, it is this:

- when profit is aligned with purpose, 
- when systems are built around people, and
- when success is measured in lives touched rather than figures achieved

an ordinary man becomes a catalyst for extraordinary change.

A changemaker. 

Thursday, 11 December 2025

A Rejoinder to a statement made by Shri Vikram Singh Mehta, Chairman of Board of Indigo.

Respected Shri Mehta,

Your apology yesterday was heard by millions across the country — passengers stranded for hours, families left helpless in chaotic airport corridors, professionals who missed crucial career opportunities, elderly citizens exhausted beyond endurance, and terrified children who had no idea why they were suddenly trapped in a sea of confusion.

Yes, the apology was heard.

But let me tell you honestly, with all due respect— it was not believed.

Because when #human #suffering reaches such a #massive #scale, when chaos becomes systemic and predictable, when disruption becomes a pattern rather than an exception, the public cannot be expected to accept your assurance that nothing deliberate occurred.

They judge not by corporate statements but by lived experience. And lived experience tells a very different story.

The lived experience tells us that everything felt deliberate.

When passengers watched #pilots operate beyond humane limits…

When they observed #crew members running on exhaustion and fumes…

When #ground #staff themselves were seen pleading for breaks, clarity, and backup…

When #passengers were left without information for hours…

When #families were forced to sit on airport floors with no guidance…

When refunds remained trapped in invisible pipelines…

It all felt #deliberate.

Not because #IndiGo explicitly intended suffering — but because IndiGo consistently prioritized something else over people.

#Profit over #People

And when a corporation consistently prioritizes something over people, the public naturally concludes that the consequences are not accidental. 

They are deliberate. They are systemic. Predictable. And deeply unfair.

Let us call this what it is: the cost of chasing profits over humanity.

Your airline is known for being ruthlessly efficient.

But efficiency without empathy is just a slower word for exploitation.

And the events of the past weeks have forced India to confront a painful question:

At what point does “maximizing operational performance for profits” quietly turn into “minimizing human well-being”?

The public witnessed:

Pilots flying exhausting schedules that stretched their limits

Cabin crew collapsing into seats between flights, visibly fatigued

Ground personnel handling impossible passenger loads

Families stranded at airports without food, water, or clarity

Elderly people forced to endure physical stress they never signed up for

Children crying in terminals while announcements remained silent

Working professionals missing interviews, exams, and commitments that cannot be recreated

Thousands stuck for hours without basic dignity — information

Even if each individual moment was not “deliberately created,” the system that produced them was.

A system that pushes staff to the brink — feels deliberate.

A system that overschedules flights without ensuring operational resilience — feels deliberate.

A system that communicates last and only under pressure — feels deliberate.

A system that maximizes profits but not preparedness — feels deliberate.

Because when a company consistently chooses one value over another, that choice is deliberate — even if no one writes it in a memo.

You said disruptions were not intended. But intention is also measured by prevention.

When preventable suffering is allowed to continue, it becomes indistinguishable from intent.

It is not the apology that hurts — it is the gap between the apology and reality.

Passengers saw elderly people wandering in confusion, waiting for information that never came.

Was that accidental?
Or was it a predictable by-product of overstretched staff and under-communicated decisions?

Passengers saw five-year-olds crying in chaos with no water, no food, no clarity.
Was that an unavoidable tragedy?

Or was it the outcome of inadequate planning for predictable service disruption?

Passengers lost money, lost opportunities, lost dignity.
They missed weddings, funerals, interviews, exams, surgeries.

Refunds took days or weeks.
Was that an unanticipated oversight?

Or a natural extension of a system where cash flow matters more than customer distress?

These are not ideological questions; they are human questions.

And humans judge companies not by #polished #apologies but by how much pain their systems allow.

Your apology lacked one critical ingredient: #responsibility.

Responsibility is not saying “we are sorry.”

Responsibility is saying:

“This should not have happened.”

“This was a failure of our systems.”

“We pushed our people too far.”

“We made choices that prioritized metrics over well-being.”

“We recognize the suffering, and we own it.”

That is responsibility.
That is leadership.

That is what the public was waiting for.

Instead, they heard a version of: “It wasn’t deliberate.”

But for passengers, intention matters far less than impact.

And the impact was devastating.

If passengers felt this pain once, they would forgive. But they have felt it repeatedly.

Not because a single day of poor operations occurred, but because they fear this is not a one-time failure — but a symptom of how your airline has been functioning.

Safety, humane working conditions, and customer care are not footnotes to profitability.

They are the foundation of trust.

And when that trust is broken, no apology — however polished — can rebuild it without honest acknowledgement.

So here is what the people want from you, Mr. Mehta:

1. A commitment to prioritize safety and well-being over operational metrics.

2. Transparent explanation of why systems failed at such a massive scale.

3. Clear corrective actions, with timelines.

4. Assurance that your staff — pilots, crew, and ground teams — will never again be pushed to exhaustion.

5. A passenger-centric model of communication and holistic compensation. 

These are not demands.
These are expectations — the minimum required to rebuild public trust.

If IndiGo wishes to be seen as a responsible national carrier, it must behave like one.

Profit alone cannot be the North Star of an airline entrusted with human lives.

Pilots carry the weight of hundreds of souls every time they fly.

Crew members balance safety, service, and emotional labor in every shift.

Ground staff face anger, fear, and confusion on the frontline.

Passengers place blind faith in your systems and your leadership.

This ecosystem functions only when every life in it is valued.

And during the recent crisis, people did not feel valued — they felt #abandoned.

The country deserves better. Your employees deserve better. Your passengers deserve better.

You asked for understanding.
Millions of Indians ask for accountability.

You asked for empathy.
Millions ask for responsibility.

You asked us to believe it wasn’t deliberate.
Millions ask you to show it wasn’t deliberate — through action.

Apologies are words.
Reforms are proof.

India is waiting for the proof.

Sir, you are one of the best Corporate Leaders I have had the pleasure of interacting with and I am sure that we will experience the Reforms soon. 

A big grateful Thanks to #Govt Of #Bharat for taking note of the sufferings of passengers and initiating steps to rectify the situation. 

Sirs, as I pen this sitting at an Airport - your kind intervention is working. 

Thank you.