Quietly cognisant - Chat with LAKSHMI NARAYANAN, VICE-CHAIRMAN, COGNIZANT

MR LAKSHMI NARAYANAN, VICE-CHAIRMAN, COGNIZANT.

Raghuvir Srinivasan

The first thing that strikes you about him is that he has no airs. He is as unassuming and down to earth as they come in these parts, and conservative too, as I later found out. Little wonder then, I tell myself, that despite its American ancestry and citizenship, Cognizant has largely an Indian DNA as Mr Lakshmi Narayanan, Vice-Chairman, walks up, smiling, to the corner table at Dakshin, the speciality south Indian restaurant at Chennai’s Park Sheraton.

Dakshin, traditional in its décor and ambience, is a favourite haunt of Lakshmi, as he’s known amongst his colleagues, peers and friends.

The conversation begins with, what else, Satyam. “If somebody asks me whether based on my interaction with him (Mr Raju), if I thought he was capable of doing this, my answer will be “No”,” he says sipping tender coconut water spiced with a dash of mint. “So from that perspective to see that this guy has done this was a rude shock. You think you know people but the fact is that you don’t.”

Lakshmi is of the view that saving Satyam and investigating the fraud must have happened simultaneously and at the same speed. “Some of the laws have to be changed and cannot be based on the original British jurisprudence. In economic crime you should be considered as guilty until you establish innocence,” he says.

The waiter interrupts to take the order. He asks Lakshmi if he would like his favourite starter — “Iyer’s special” (set of miniature pancakes) — the signature starter dish of the restaurant. Lakshmi politely turns it down (“that’s only for dinner”) and asks for the “Executive Thali” instead, which is not available. Ultimately, he settles for the good old masala dosai (“minimal oil and butter, please”) and curd rice. I opt for bisi bele bath, the Karnataka speciality, with potato curry and curd rice.

TCS days

Lakshmi earned his reputation as an excellent project manager when he was heading the SEGA project for TCS in the early 90s. The project for the Swiss depository system was under $10 million in value but back then it was big. “It was very challenging. We knew nothing about securities but learnt on the project”, he says.

Management of human resources was a big challenge as the concept of “bench” was non-existent then. “Kohli (F.C. Kohli, boss of TCS and pioneer of the IT industry) used to say: It is much better for many projects to chase a few people than a lot of people chasing a few projects”, Lakshmi remembers.

After successfully completing the SEGA project Lakshmi returned to India and had the choice of either heading a Swissair project in Mumbai or taking over as regional manager in Delhi. “As usual, Kohli sold me the idea that Delhi was a better option and with Kohli you don’t ask questions,” he laughs, as lunch is served. The masala dosai looks sufficiently dry while the bisi bele bath is steaming hot and inviting.

Within a year, Lakshmi says he realised that Delhi was not for him “It was a big culture shock, the people, the attitudes were very different from what we are used to. Everybody is a somebody there.” Some of those things were very uncomfortable, he says, though they were small. “One day the caretaker in our guest house comes home and leaves a 10 kg bag of basmati rice and says “nice rice, saab.” I said: I don’t want it. I didn’t order it. He said: Nahin nahin, this is good. You are new to Delhi, you don’t know about basmati. Oh boy, then I said: this place is not for me, better get out!” he says laughing heartily and taking a bite of the dosai.

That is when someone approached him about Dun & Bradstreet’s (D&B) proposed venture in India. After several calls from the gentleman he met Mr Kumar Mahadeva, D&B’s India head, on one of his Mumbai trips. He recalls an interesting incident soon after this when he was dining with Mr S. Ramadorai and Mr S. Mahalingam of TCS and a client (“Oracle, I think”) in a Mumbai hotel. Suddenly Mr Kumar Mahadeva, whom the others knew as well, walked into the restaurant. “Oh my God!”, Lakshmi remembers, putting his hand on his head and laughing. “My heart skipped a beat and I was getting ready to excuse myself to go to the wash room! He smiled at Ram and Maha and then saw me. And he turned around and walked out of the restaurant.”

He pauses to savour the masala dosai while I find the bisi bele bath disappointing. The Dakshin version of the dish has capsicum in it, not part of the traditional recipe.

How did he summon the courage to express his desire to leave TCS to Mr Kohli who by then had a larger-than-life image?

“Oh, it was going back and forth number of times. First he said: this is not going to happen. Forget it. Go do your work. You silly boy, what do you know? I came back with a long face from his room,” he says, laughing at the recollection.

“ Next time I went he took me more seriously. He explained how he had so many plans for me, which was true because I got to attend a lot of courses which not everybody in TCS gets to. When he says something like that, again you don’t push your case. You back off a little. After 2 weeks, I found another excuse, mustered enough courage and said: somebody dropped off 10 kg of basmati rice. So I want to quit the company! He then probably thought this guy has become a nuisance and is coming with all kinds of silly excuses and eventually gave up.”

Lakshmi acknowledges that the one big thing he learnt from Kohli was to constantly be focused on costs. “This overall model is about cost-competitiveness and at no time can you afford to lose sight of that. Cost is like body fat, it’s easy to put on but once you put it on, it’s difficult to shed.”

We are through with our main courses and the waiter serves curd rice. De rigueur with every south Indian meal, it looks appetising and tastes just as well. Lakshmi opts for the traditional Andhra pickle, gongura, to go with it and I choose the same.

I quiz him about Cognizant’s American IPO in 1998 which was a challenging process. Bankers were initially not interested in the IPO of just $30 million. “If this issue were to be successful then every IT department would want to go public!” was the comment of a leading investment bank referring to Cognizant’s ancestry as the IT department of Dun & Bradstreet.

It was during an investor conference in the US that news came of the nuclear tests by India. “After that, who the hell cares about the numbers, the projections…. Here the fundamental foundation is shaken. What is happening there? Will there be a war?” recollects Lakshmi. “We then decided to drop the price from $14-16 to $8-10 a share and went ahead with the IPO and finally sold it at $10”, he says.

Does being an American company listed in the US confer competitive advantage? “It impacts positively because prospective customers do a fair amount of research before talking to us. Our presence in the top 50 of the Business Week list is far more creditable in the eyes of the market there than being in the top 5 of the NASSCOM listing. They associate with brands they know and to that extent our American listing is very important.”

The waiter brings a second helping of curd rice and Lakshmi asks for just two spoons. He’s well known in his company for being a people’s person, in spotting talent, nurturing and empowering it. “The basic philosophy is,” he says, “Don’t think you are the only smart one. There are others smarter than you.” He claims he’s irritated enough people in Cognizant through micromanaging and then learnt to empower.

As we near the end of the meal, I ask him what’s left for someone like him who’s done most things one would aspire to do. “It is a thriving industry and I caught it at the right time and flowed with the tide. Whatever I have done is not my own achievement, the entire company has contributed,” he says, in all humility.

Dreaming a new model

“My own dream is to come up with a newer model. This global delivery model will lose steam in the next 3-8 years. Will software services be used in the way it’s being used now, particularly by the new generation? The level of activity on a Facebook or Orkut or MySpace is phenomenal. There is a statistic that the kids who chat on Facebook create data the equivalent of a corporate database of P&G in a week!

When these kids join corporations and get into managerial positions, you don’t know what they are going to think. If I can think about it and really devise that model that will be fantastic. I’m fairly convinced that it’s going to be around the open platform.”

Lakshmi decides to skip dessert and opts for plain filter coffee; I follow his lead. Is the current global crisis an inflection point for the IT industry, I ask. “It is an inflection point in that the companies that survive and come out of this will probably be a somewhat different set of companies than the ones that got into it. But the model itself may not have significantly changed. The last time we had a significant change in the model was in the dotcom years. Then it was a fundamental change in technology, something new was available, which led to the change. Now there is nothing new,” is his elaborate reply.

Lakshmi works out of home in the afternoons. I ask him if he finds himself spending more time on work than if he were attending office.

“In terms of the amount of time you spend on work may not be very high but it could happen anytime,” he says. But does it go down well with his family?

He grins: “Yeah. At a crucial time when they want to go somewhere and say shall we go now, I say, no, I’ve got to take a call between 6.30 and 7 pm and the immediate reply is: forget it, lets not go out anywhere!” He has two daughters, with the elder one working for Accenture and the younger one in architecture school. I prod him, why not Cognizant, why Accenture?

“Close relatives, no”, he says firmly, and goes on to talk about how home is a constant fight for the TV with his daughters. “They like Hindi and English music and I find some of those channels obnoxious. That’s when you realise that the gap between your generation and the next is much wider between yours and your parents.”

Pet and cricket

And then I ask him something that lights up his face: about his pug, Oreo. He smiles broadly: “Yeah, that’s my new fascination. Such an affectionate dog and makes you feel wanted. Likes to go around you in circles soon as you enter home, make sure you are alright … .”

The waiter now comes with a box lined with betel leaves, seeval (shavings of betel nut) and chunam. Lakshmi gets excited on seeing it, ignores the chunam and goes for the other two.

The 56-year old is also a passionate cricket fan and claims to have played in most big grounds in Chennai for his Cognizant team. He says he’s a bowler and I embarrass him when I ask if he’s a fast or spin bowler. “Sollika vendame (Better not said)”, he says, and then shyly ventures that he bowls medium pace. His claim to fame? Claiming a hat-trick on the hallowed Chepauk strip, and he debunks detractors who claim that he achieved it only because it was appraisal time at Cognizant. “It wasn’t appraisal time and I wasn’t appraising anybody”, he says with more than a touch of indignation!