A rags to riches story of two techie brothers

Bangalore: From the humble environs of the village in which they were born to the sophisticated corporate world, successfully breaking the shackles of poverty that ruined the mirth of their boyhood, the two brothers - Kumar Srinivasan as the General Manager, Vice President of Technology and Head of Amazon Bangalore Center and Kalyan Raman as the CEO of Global Scholar - today reign the corporate world.

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The Cost of Being Poor
On Diwali morning in 1987 Kumar Srinivasan woke up just as he did every day. His biggest Diwali gift was waiting for him. "My brother gave me 10 and he was budgeting this for the last 3 months," recalls Kumar.

With no breakfast, he used to walk 10-12 kms everyday to go to school. Luckily for him, the then Chief Minister of Tamil Nadu M.G. Ramachandran had introduced Midday Meal Scheme for school children in the state. "That's why my mom always voted for MGR's party," quips Kumar. While he looked forward to the much-needed meal-sambar bath with a few pieces of carrot and tomato, Kumar would stay back after all students had left to wash the vessels. This would earn him an extra plate of meal, which he promptly packed and brought home. Sometime he would give it to his younger brother in whose school the scheme was yet to be introduced, and sometimes the morsel of food would be lunch for his sister next day. His childhood memories still bear the imprints of a household bonded by the pressures of poverty.

Kumar's family lived in such abject poverty that they reached a point when they had nothing left in the house that could be sold to meet the next day's expenses. It was then that his mother decided to sell the only ceiling fan left in the house. Selling the fan would buy them food for another one full week. "The situation was so miserable that I remember my mother selling our stainless steel plates, in which we would eat, for 50 paise," narrates Kumar.

"I still remember passing down the clothes to my younger brothers. The trousers that the youngest one used to wear to go to school had more white patches on it than its original blue color because of the stitches," nostalgically says Kumar's elder brother Kalyan Raman (Kal). His energy and passion are very obvious in his words. And it is this energy and passion that were a common trait amongst all the siblings. He says, "We never felt we were poor. Even though we weren't all that happy, we were peaceful because we always lived on hope. The beauty of hope is that when you have nothing else left to lean upon, you get used to be peaceful. You wait for miracles to happen. Waiting for miracles helps remain hopeful," says Kal.

Their mother made a bold call early on saying, "I want every kid to be educated to the best of their abilities. Nobody is going to discontinue education and take a job for a short term gain. If we have to suffer for a few years, so be it." Many of their relatives thought otherwise. They saw no need for all the kids to go to school. Her stubbornness to send children to school only meant that relatives would stop helping. It didn't matter much to her.

Later on in life, Kal steps into Anna University. Best students from elite schools across the state used to come there to study, and here was a kid from the village trying to compete with them. "It was not daunting, but it was exciting to me," says Kal. However, it was not a happy sign to see his classmates coming to college on bicycles, bikes, or cars. Some were wearing double bull shirts and the latest branded jeans or shoes out in the market. Kal couldn't get the money to buy or do whatever he wanted. "I struggled," he notes.

While he was in Anna University, like other hostel students, he would need money for his basic expenses. A postman would come to the hostel block during lunch break, sit in a prominent place and read out names of students who had received money orders from their parents. "Senthil...Rs 500; Arasu...Rs 200; Chandra...Rs 1,000; Selvam; and so on." The students would walk up, collect the money, and tip the postman with Rs 5 or 10, as they pleased. The postman would never ever call out 'Kalyan Raman'. After the roll call, as the happy students dispersed, the postman would silently walk up to Kal and handover the 2.50 money order his mother would have sent with love. "Receiving such a meager amount would look bad for an engineering student. The postman was so thoughtful that he would not call my name as it would hurt my self respect. Even if I offered 25 paise as a friendly tip he would not accept it," recalls Kal. The thoughtful postman would only pat on his back and say, "Kalyan, study well." But the money order his mother sent him reminded Kal of a number of things and kindled his spirits, and perhaps was one of the main reasons behind what Kal has achieved today.