“Yes, I can do the work.”
“Can you do it now?” asked Yousseff.
“As in right now? As in now now?”
“Yes. Now now.”
“Cost you more,” said the teenager.
“No problem. We’ll pay,” Yousseff answered quickly.
“Cash?” asked the welder.
“Cash,” said Yousseff.
“Then it’ll cost you even more.”
The bartering and dealing went on for another 15 minutes. Before long, Yousseff had learned the young man’s name. “Kumar,” he had said. “Kumar Hanaman.”
Over the course of the next two days, Kumar’s skills amazed both Yousseff and Omar. No place to hook the cables in order to pull the boat into drydock? No problem. We’ll weld some on. The Janeeta’s too small for a drydock built for ocean-going ships? No problem, we’ll create a smaller lift carriage. Parts of the hull are too corroded to work on (a problem that Yousseff and Omar did not know until that very moment)? No problem. We can replace them.
And then there was the masterful solution devised by the youthful Kumar, on the fly, to create an outer envelope, partially accessible through an internal, hidden lever. It was beyond what Yousseff, or the more mechanically gifted Omar, had imagined. Kumar did all of it on his own, without any assistance, and at an amazing speed, chattering all the while, laughing, making jokes, and generally having a ball. Nevermind the rain and chill of the monsoon period.
The work took two days, with both Yousseff and Omar chipping in, assisting where they could. During those two days, Yousseff spent almost all his time talking with Kumar. He was pathetically inept at anything to do with mechanical work, but he stayed by Kumar’s side, passing along tools or moving or holding bits of iron and steel, while Kumar and Omar did most of the welding and cutting. To Omar it was almost comical to see Yousseff running to keep up with the chattering, skittering Kumar, passing him tools, and trading stories.
One of the first tales Kumar told Yousseff was the history of the little dry-dock company. Its name was Karachi Drydock and Engineering Company, which he shortened to KDEC. His father had purchased the dock, crane, and shop building from KSEW 18 months ago. He had planned to handle specialty jobs, involving the repair and manufacture of propellers and rudders for ocean-going vessels. He had been a highly skilled employee at KSEW and had specialized in this very area. He saw many of the inefficiencies of KSEW and felt he could provide a better product at a lower cost. He paid a premium price for the decrepit building and drydock system, which had been overgrown with weeds, and in considerable disrepair. KSEW had not actively used the site for more than 20 years. The vice president for KSEW, Salim Nooshkatoor, a brash young executive seeking to ingratiate himself with the board, had promised Mr. Hanaman that his company would not compete against Hanaman’s new venture, and would instead send all their rudder and propeller work his way. In that way, Nooshkatoor proposed, he would be able to pay off his investment quickly and easily.
The elder Hanaman, feeling that this was a no-lose situation, had put his life savings into the venture, and that of a number of his brothers. The opportunity appeared to be too good to pass up; guaranteed employment for all of them in a lucrative specialty area in the ship maintenance business. Hanaman had prepared many scenarios and projections and decided that he definitely couldn’t lose. If just a fraction of the propeller and rudder work came his way, he would have a thriving, profitable business in no time. All he needed was a small fortune to invest — a fortune that came from family members. He would be able to repay them entirely, at a substantial interest rate, plus a bonus for their troubles, within a year.
Alas, though, it was not too be. Nooshkatoor had been told by his Board of Directors to liquidate, at the best possible price, much of the unused property of KSEW, in an attempt to make the once-mighty company profitable again. The senior Hanaman had not been able to pay the entire property price, of course, so the balance was made up by a mortgage back to the company at very reasonable terms. “And,” said Nooshkatoor, “do not worry if you miss a payment, if business is slow. We will not foreclose. You will definitely have all our propeller work, and that, by itself, guarantees your venture to be profitable.”
Of course, Nooshkatoor had every intention of foreclosing, and competing, and none whatsoever of sending any business to Hanaman. After one year of business hell, during which power was repeatedly cut off, and only tiny low-value jobs were sent to the new Karachi Drydock and Engineering Company, the venture was near death. The pressure on Mr. Hanaman became immense. His brothers first berated him, then ignored him, and finally sued him. KSEW had just initiated foreclosure proceedings, and there was only one month left in the redemption period. His wife could not handle the stress and humiliation and ended up leaving him. His health failed, he took to drinking, became ulcerous, and had developed cancer two months before Yousseff came into the picture.
Hanaman had turned to the courts for relief, and countersued KSEW during the foreclosure proceedings. He told the judge, “Look, here was the deal. They said they would send specialty work to me if I bought this property from them. They have not done that. They lied. They should give me the property back, and millions of rupees too, for the hell they have made of my life.”
But KSEW was a Karachi establishment, and Nooshkatoor was one of its darlings. In his mid-30s, trained as a lawyer, and on his way up, he could do no wrong. A number of KSEW’s directors knew the judge personally and attended the same social club — an organization that a worker like Hanaman did not even know existed. Nooshkatoor, sitting in the gallery of the courtroom, sniggered openly. The judge peered over his horn-rimmed glasses at Hanaman and said, “Look, sir. It’s not in writing, is it?” To which Hanaman had replied that they had shaken hands on the deal. The old man got nowhere. He didn’t even get a chance to ask Nooshkatoor any questions about it. Now, alone, bankrupt, destitute, his spirit broken, without any wife or family aside from Kumar, he was dying of alcohol and cancer.
“And here you are, laughing and talking as though nothing has happened?” asked Yousseff in amazement.
“But what good is crying going to do, Yousseff?” came the response. “What good are the courts, or judges, or family, or God, or shrieking and wailing for that matter? My father is dying, my mother has left. These things are not going to change. So I may as well enjoy the day, and your companionship. You have given me enough money to buy some food and pay some of my father’s medical bills. In another month KSEW will regain possession of this property, and I will be somewhere else, I guess.”
Yousseff looked at Kumar long and hard. Catching the look, the lad slowed from his constant movement.
“What is it, Yousseff? You look at me like I’m the devil.”
Yousseff spoke at length. “I have a proposition for you. I will pay off the mortgage. I will pay off the uncles and creditors. I will look after your father and take care of his medical bills. I will find work for this drydock company.”
“Yes, good. Of course. And you will give me a Ferrari and a partridge in a pear tree. Deal, Yousseff. Deal.” Kumar went back to his work.
Yousseff grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him away from the welding equipment. “Do not ever, ever discount me. I mean what I say.”
Kumar was silent for a minute, meeting Yousseff’s gaze. “And you want what with me? Why would you do this?”
Yousseff paused for a moment, and continued to look Kumar in the eye. “You know my business. If you join me, you are in that business. You will become a captain in my business. You will get your father to sign this drydock business over to you, so that you are the sole shareholder of Karachi Drydock and Engineering. But you’ll hold it in trust for me. No one is to know about it. No one. In return, I will cut you in on the profits, and together, we will build this company.”