by Anurag Wadehra
The first time I met Rajeev Motwani in 1999 to discuss my idea for a start up, he turned me down, "Don't tell me anything. I am advising another company in the same space, and I have a conflict of interest - and by the way," he added his enigmatic smile, "these guys may already be the leaders in the space." In the dotcom era of ruthlessness, this was a jolt: an adviser playing it straight while many a smooth-talking, Silicon Valley power broker would have trotted an NDA agreement even before shaking your hand.
Eventually, I convinced Rajeev to listen to my idea. In fact, his wife Asha and he decided we were ahead of the pack and invested in the start up (Chingari) - but only after he had looked all the three founders in the eye. I believe we may well have been the first investment of his fund DotEdu. Years later when I asked him what made him invest, his take was refreshingly blunt - "I saw two smart guys and one tough gal; you had little idea of what you were up against, but my bet was you guys would figure out stuff faster than others."
As an adviser, Rajeev had an uncanny ability to ask the right questions in the right sequence. In the first few months, he helped us select the team, build the technology and raise money. After days of working endlessly on all fronts, we would share our progress with him over drinks. And, in soft, but firm voice, he'd size up the situation, put his finger on the biggest risk, and point to a few possible solutions - all before the pint was finished.
Rajeev was a cross between an Indian guru and a Yiddish mensch. When others thumped their chests, strutted their stuff from podiums and confused luck with success, Rajeev kept the entrepreneurs grounded in reality, wielded his influence with a feather's touch, and never lost sight of the winning play of the game. Even during the darkest hours, he stood by the entrepreneur. The day I shut down my start up, I heard from many "Monday morning experts" who pontificated on what could have, should have, would have been done. Rajeev called me late in the evening and simply said, "Go have a drink. You will have plenty of time to reflect later."
Over the years, even after he became a Valley phenom, Rajeev and I would meet at his favorite haunt (University Cafe) to riff on start up ideas, or more recently to discuss my passion for film making and screenwriting. He'd patiently listen to my story pitches and, sure enough, brain storm some Bollywood connection. Although a renowned giant in his field of computer science, Rajeev's true gift turned out to be this: he made you see possibilities in your ideas that even you had not seen. That is a rarest gift a mentor can give you.
The last time we met Rajeev and his family, Reena and I found him sharp witted, high spirited and full of life. He exhorted me to start a Sunday film-n-pizza club. We discussed many fun projects, since he had finished his quarter and was looking forward to his free months ahead. Later, Reena noted that Rajeev was "on fire" that evening. Sadly, the flame was extinguished too soon.
