Dancing Backwards and In High Heels

When I was 14, I almost got my mother fired.

It was 1992, and India had just begun its economic transformation and gradual embrace of free markets. Satellite TV with Western programming beamed into Indian homes. We watched, mouths agape, as fistfights broke out on Jerry Springer, celebrities were interviewed on Oprah, and daytime soap stars from Santa Barbara and The Bold and The Beautiful wished us a Happy Diwali.

THIS was television worth watching. It was a significant upgrade over the staid fare doled out by Doordarshan, the public service television broadcaster of the Government of India. I quickly penned a Letter to the Editor of a widely-read local tabloid — declaring boldly that Doordarshan should shut down, since it couldn’t possibly compete with Satellite TV. The newspaper, always eager to stoke a little controversy, obligingly printed my letter with my byline.

There was only one problem. My mother was then a Doordarshan employee. Her colleagues, bristling at the perceived insult to their work, were NOT thrilled by my little stunt. Family legend has it that her boss — a government appointee — brandished a copy of the newspaper under her nose: “What,” he asked, “is THIS?” Somehow, she managed to talk him off the ledge — and stay employed. Back at home, she suggested gently that I pursue my penchant for truth telling in less public ways.

In reality, I was incredibly proud of my Mom’s work with Doordarshan. When she married my father in 1973, she was only 19 — but had already graduated college. At a time when the vast majority of Indian women of her generation were limited — usually by personal, familial or societal circumstances — to playing homemaker, Mom was intent on a career outside the home. To that end, she enrolled in graduate school to study Mass Communications. A fortuitous class assignment put her in touch with the head of the recently opened Doordarshan office in Mumbai; a job offer followed. Before she was 21, she began a career producing critically acclaimed television shows that would span a quarter of a century.

My Mom’s career left an indelible mark on me. When I think of her work, I’m reminded of Ginger Rogers. During Hollywood’s Golden Age, she was perhaps most well known for the musicals she starred in with Fred Astaire — considered by many to be the greatest dancer in film history. Yet Ginger Rogers was spectacular as a dancer and singer in her own right — and the winner of an Academy Award for Best Actress in 1940. “Ginger Rogers did everything that Fred Astaire did…” — a famous quote goes — “… she just did it backwards and in high heels.” My Mom may have weaved her magic from behind the camera — but it was just as spectacular.

By the time my Mom retired in 1999, she had risen to be offered the position of Deputy Director at Doordarshan’s Mumbai office. It was a remarkable achievement for a young, highly-educated woman — working in a male-dominated workplace rampant with the nepotism and sycophancy typical of Indian public sector enterprises in the last century. How far and fast would she have risen in a truly meritocratic environment? As an Indian who has worked his entire career in white male-dominated corporate environments in the United States, it is a question I ask myself often. I am fortunate to work in a more enlightened time and place than my Mom did. And yet, there is still such a long way to go.

During her career, my Mom produced a series of critically-acclaimed and popular English-language shows for national television. Her work spanned genres, from in-depth interviews (think Charlie Rose), to science education (think Neil DeGrasse Tyson), to game shows (think Jeopardy), to family sitcoms (think Cosby). It was almost as though a single genre or show would have been too limiting to fully explore the possibilities of her art. Like her, I’ve found much satisfaction in my career by painting on a broad canvas. Telecommunications, financial services, biotech, software, retail, ecommerce, healthcare — every sector I’ve had exposure to — has offered me unique opportunities to learn and grow.

Over her career, my Mom was often asked to produce shows for local television, in Gujarati and Hindi, although she didn’t consider herself fluent in either language. At another time, she was asked to oversee a transmission in Bengali, a language she couldn’t read, write or speak. Despite her apprehensions, she never shrank from these challenges — and found a way to make them successful. From time to time, my career has offered me opportunities to learn entirely new functional areas — merchandising, analytics, business development, operations, digital marketing, product management, marketing technology. Each has represented a unique learning curve — but enriched my palette in unexpected ways.

The passage of time has shed light on these and other subtle parallels between my Mom’s career and mine. As a young child, however, these insights were yet to be revealed. Then, I was conscious only of a strong sense of pride. It was a sense reinforced by my classmates and teachers at school. Her status as one of very few Moms in my class who worked outside the home made her something of a minor celebrity in our little community. If a student theater production or speaking competition needed an outside judge, she would get the call. Once, I received a frantic phonecall from a classmate who was convinced that he had just seen my Mom reading the news on TV. It took me some time to convince him that she wasn’t the glamorous news anchor that he had seen. In my heart I knew she could easily have been. That she chose to make her career behind the camera rather than in front of it was just an accident of circumstance, not of talent.

I am sure my Mom worried about how her having a career outside the home would impact my growth and development. I am sure she got her share of snide comments from well-meaning but ignorant colleagues, friends and family. I am sure she navigated the same work/life balance questions that most parents struggle with today — only there was no such term for it then. I watched her struggle with these and other demons, and power through it all. In doing so, my Mom instilled in me a deep and abiding respect for all “working Moms” — whether they work outside and/or inside the home.

Happy Mother’s Day to Moms everywhere. I am in awe of you all.

Originally published at https://www.linkedin.com.

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