shadenights

Forwarding you something which is worth of spending five minutes.



>An angry letter from a young lady made JRD Tata change his rule.
>Sudha was livid when a job advertisement posted by a Tata company at
>the institution where she was completing her post graduation stated
>that "Lady candidates need not apply". She dashed off a post card to
>JRD Tata, protesting against the discrimination. Following this, Sudha
>was called
for
>an interview and she became the first female engineer to work on the
>shop floor at Telco (now Tata Motors). It was the beginning of an
>association that would change her life in more ways than one.
>
>The following is in her own words:
>
>"THERE are two photographs that hang on my office wall. Everyday when I
>enter my office I look at them before starting my day. They are
>pictures
of
>two old people. One is of a gentleman in a blue suit and the other is a
>black and white image of a man with dreamy eyes and a white
>beard.People have often asked me if the people in the photographs are related to me.
>Some have even asked me, "Is this black and white photo that of a Sufi
>saint or a religious Guru?" I smile and reply "No, nor are they related
>to me. These people made an impact on my life. I am grateful to them."
>"Who are they?" "The man in the blue suit is Bharat Ratna JRD Tata and
>the black and white photo is of Jamsetji Tata." "But why do you have
>them in your office?"" You can call it gratitude."
>
>Then, invariably, I have to tell the person the following story. It was
>a long time ago. I was young and bright, bold and idealistic. I was in
>the final year of my Master's course in Computer Science at the Indian
>Institute of Science (IISc) in Bangalore, then known as the Tata
Institute.
>Life was full of fun and joy. I did not know what helplessness or
injustice
>meant.
>It was probably the April of 1974. Bangalore was getting warm and
gulmohars
>were blooming at the IISc campus. I was the only girl in my
>postgraduate department and was staying at the ladies' hostel. Other
>girls were
pursuing
>research in different departments of Science. I was looking forward to
>going abroad to complete a doctorate in computer science. I had been
>offered scholarships from Universities in the US. I had not thought of
>taking up a job in India.
>
>One day, while on the way to my hostel from our lecture-hall complex, I
saw
>an advertisement on the notice board. It was a standard job-requirement
>notice from the famous automobile company Telco (now Tata Motors). It
>stated that the company required young, bright engineers, hardworking
>and with an excellent academic background, etc. At the bottom was a
>small
line:
>"Lady candidates need not apply." I read it and was very upset. For the
>first time in my life I was up against gender discrimination.
>
>Though I was not keen on taking up the job, I saw it as a challenge. I
>had done extremely well in academics, better than most of my male peers.
Little
>did I know then that in real life academic excellence is not enough to
>be successful. After reading the notice I went fuming to my room. I
>decided
to
>inform the topmost person in Telco's management about the injustice the
>company was perpetrating. I got a postcard and started to write, but
>there was a problem: I did not know who headed Telco. I thought it must
>be one
of
>the Tatas. I knew JRD Tata was the head of the Tata Group; I had seen
>his pictures in newspapers (actually, Sumant Moolgaokar was the
>company's chairman then).
>
>I took the card, addressed it to JRD and started writing. To this day I
>remember clearly what I wrote. "The great Tatas have always been pioneers.
>They are the people who started the basic infrastructure industries in
>India, such as iron and steel, chemicals, textiles and locomotives.
>They have cared for higher education in India since 1900 and they were
>responsible for the establishment of the Indian Institute of Science.
>Fortunately, I study there. But I am surprised how a company such as
>Telco is discriminating on the basis of gender."
>
>I posted the letter and forgot about it. Less than 10 days later, I
>received a telegram stating that I had to appear for an interview at
>Telco's Pune facility at the company's expense. I was taken aback by
>the telegram. My hostel mate told me I should use the opportunity to go
>to
Pune
>free of cost and buy them the famous Pune saris for cheap! I collected
>Rs 30 each from everyone who wanted a sari. When I look back, I feel
>like laughing at the reasons for my going, but back then they seemed
>good
enough
>to make the trip. It was my first visit to Pune and I immediately fell
>in love with the city. To this day it remains dear to me. I feel as
>much at home in Pune as I do in Hubli, my hometown. The place changed
>my life in
so
>many ways.
>
>As directed, I went to Telco's ****ri office for the interview. There
>were six people on the panel and I realised then that this was serious
business.
>"This is the girl who wrote to JRD," I heard somebody whisper as soon
>as I entered the room. By then I knew for sure that I would not get the job.
The
>realisation abolished all fear from my mind, so I was rather cool while
the
>interview was being conducted.
>
>Even before the interview started, I reckoned the panel was biased, so
>I told them, rather impolitely, "I hope this is only a technical interview."
>They were taken aback by my rudeness, and even today I am ashamed about
>my attitude. The panel asked me technical questions and I answered all
>of them. Then an elderly gentleman with an affectionate voice told me,
>"Do
you
>know why we said lady candidates need not apply? The reason is that we
have
>never employed any ladies on the shop floor. This is not a co-ed
>college; this is a factory. When it comes to academics, you are a first
>ranker throughout. We appreciate that, but people like you should work
>in
research
>laboratories."
>
>I was a young girl from small-town Hubli. My world had been a limited
>place. I did not know the ways of large corporate houses and their
>difficulties,so I answered, "But you must start somewhere, otherwise no
>woman will ever be able to work in your factories."
>
>Finally, after a long interview, I was told I had been successful. So
>this was what the future had in store for me. Never had I thought I
>would take up a job in Pune. I met a shy young man from Karnataka
>there, we became good friends and we got married.
>
>It was only after joining Telco that I realised who JRD was: the
>uncrowned king of Indian industry. Now I was scared, but I did not get
>to meet him till I was transferred to Bombay. One day I had to show
>some reports to Mr Moolgaokar, our chairman, who we all knew as SM. I
>was in his office on
the
>first floor of Bombay House (the Tata headquarters) when, suddenly JRD
>walked in. That was the first time I saw "appro JRD". Appro means "our"
>in Gujarati. This was the affectionate term by which people at Bombay
>House called him. I was feeling very nervous, remembering my postcard episode.
SM
>introduced me nicely, "Jeh (that's what his close associates called
>him), this young woman is an engineer and that too a postgraduate. She
>is the first woman to work on the Telco shop floor." JRD looked at me.
>I was praying he would not ask me any questions about my interview (or
>the postcard that preceded it).
>Thankfully, he didn't. Instead, he remarked. "It is nice that girls are
>getting into engineering in our country. By the way, what is your name?"
>"When I joined Telco I was Sudha Kulkarni, Sir," I replied. "Now I am
Sudha
>Murthy." He smiled and kindly smile and started a discussion with SM.
>As for me, I almost ran out of the room. After that I used to see JRD
>on and off. He was the Tata Group chairman and I was merely an
>engineer. There
was
>nothing that we had in common. I was in awe of him.
>
>One day I was waiting for Murthy, my husband, to pick me up after
>office hours. To my surprise I saw JRD standing next to me. I did not
>know how to react. Yet again I started worrying about that postcard.
>Looking back, I realise JRD had forgotten about it. It must have been a
>small incident for him, but not so for me. "Young lady, why are you
>here?" he asked. "Office time is over." I said, "Sir, I'm waiting for
>my husband to come and pick
me
>up." JRD said, "It is getting dark and there's no one in the corridor.
I'll
>wait with you till your husband comes." I was quite used to waiting for
>Murthy, but having JRD waiting alongside made me extremely uncomfortable.
I
>was nervous. Out of the corner of my eye I looked at him. He wore a
>simple white pant and shirt. He was old, yet his face was glowing.
>There wasn't any air of superiority about him. I was thinking, "Look at
>this person. He is a chairman, a well-respected man in our country and
>he is waiting for the sake of an ordinary employee." Then I saw Murthy
>and I rushed out. JRD called and said, "Young lady, tell your husband
>never to make his wife
wait
>again."
>
>In 1982 I had to resign from my job at Telco. I was reluctant to go,
>but I really did not have a choice. I was coming down the steps of
>Bombay House after wrapping up my final settlement when I saw JRD
>coming up. He was absorbed in thought. I wanted to say goodbye to him,
>so I stopped. He saw me and paused. Gently, he said, "So what are you doing, Mrs Kulkarni?"
>(That was the way he always addressed me.) "Sir, I am leaving Telco."
>"Where are you going?" he asked. "Pune, Sir. My husband is starting a
>company called Infosys and I'm shifting to Pune." "Oh! And what will
>you do when you are successful."
>"Sir, I don't know whether we will be successful." "Never start with
>diffidence," he advised me. "Always start with confidence. When you are
>successful you must give back to society. Society gives us so much; we
must
>reciprocate. I wish you all the best."
>
>Then JRD continued walking up the stairs. I stood there for what seemed
>like a millennium. That was the last time I saw him alive. Many years
>later I met Ratan Tata in the same Bombay House, occupying the chair
>JRD once did. I told him of my many sweet memories of working with Telco.
>Later, he wrote to me, "It was nice hearing about Jeh from you. The sad
>part is that he's not alive to see you today."
>
>I consider JRD a great man because, despite being an extremely busy
person,
>he valued one postcard written by a young girl seeking justice. He must
>have received thousands of letters everyday. He could have thrown mine
>away, but he didn't do that. He respected the intentions of that
>unknown girl, who had neither influence nor money, and gave her an
>opportunity in his company. He did not merely give her a job; he
>changed her life and mindset forever.
>
>Close to 50 per cent of the students in today's engineering colleges
>are girls. And there are women on the shop floor in many industry
>segments. I see these changes and I think of JRD. If at all time stops
>and asks me
what
>I want from life, I would say I wish JRD were alive today to see how
>the company we started has grown. He would have enjoyed it
>wholeheartedly.
>
>My love and respect for the House of Tata remains undiminished by the
>passage of time. I always looked up to JRD. I saw him as a role model
>for his simplicity, his generosity, his kindness and the care he took
>of his employees. Those blue eyes always reminded me of the sky; they
>had the
same
>vastness and magnificence."
>
>Sudha Murthy is a widely published writer and chairperson of the
>Infosys Foundation involved in a number of social development
>initiatives. Infosys chairman Narayan Murthy is her husband.
>
>
>

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