slumdog millionaire 1

This article appeared originally in Mumbai Mirror, of the Times Of India group.

At a factory near the T junction on Mahim highway, we watch Mustaqueem carefully sort pudina leaves to flavour our liquor teas, made painstakingly to order. "When I came to this city at age 13 to work, I was not paid for the first four months," he remembers. His work, at a Kamathipura garments factory, consisted of serving chai, besides cleaning the factory, washing the machines and carrying orders to places from 7 in the morning, till 12 at night. This was when, after the workers left, he would be allowed to learn how to work a machine for half an hour. He slept on the road outside the factory. His meal consisted of roti and salan, asked of some restaurant or house. After becoming a paid worker, he branched out at age 16 with two sewing machines in a relative's hutment at Dharavi.

Today Mustaqueem runs 12 manufacturing units (including sister concerns of the parent company) in Dharavi. 7 of them, owned by him, comprise 3200 square feet of space each. The unit we are on, on rented area, comprises 8000 square feet. He employs 900 people. All his garments, mostly girl's tops, skirts and capris, are exported to the US, and sold by names like MKM and Burlington. He earlier supplied goods to K Mart and Wal Mart as well, but discontinued because they were "too inconsistent with their order quotations".

How did he get here? Mustaqueem's eyes, study us even as he talks, with piercing intelligence. Having stood first in every class till class 6, his principal and relatives wept alike when he had to quit studies to earn for family. Once on work, the same intelligence prompted him to learn the trade quicker. Also radiating from his eyes, is quiet confidence. When a worker, he'd told many seniors that he'd have his factory someday, when they themselves couldn't dream of such. Some, humouring him, had said, "We'll work for you!" and actually went on to do so later. While deliberating on export too, the discouragement of close friends, didn't dissuade him. Yet this confidence is kept in check by a strong belief in God, which churning out an affable humility: "There are many more talented than me. I've succeeded because Allah has honoured me."
But that is every successful entrepreneur's story. What distinguishes Mustaqueem is what surrounds him. Workers as well as managers employed in his factories are taken on by Mustaqueem not on the basis of degrees, but on his reading of their ability. This approach is reminiscent of another man who rose from the garments trade, Dhirubai Ambani. He had hired a clerk, Indu Sheth, to spearhead his export strategy, a petroleum product salesman, Natwarlal Sanghvi, as his marketing manager, and an auto parts salesman as his knitting manager. These men went on to be counted among India's best business brains. Also reeking of this approach is the modus operandi of Sam Walton, whose company till recently was Mustaqueem's customer. 'Mustaqueeem Seth' in Dharavi is a respected name. He helps many with problems ranging from those with the municipal corporation to healthcare. He is a man known well by the police, government officials and politicians. But his decision to continue to centre his business here, stems from beyond this ring of influence. Through his own past, he understands a talent pool of Indian youth that is unable to obtain MBA, CA or CFA degrees. And that pool, hired as worker and inching towards 'supervisor', 'manager' and then 'owner', understand 'Mustaqueem Seth' through their present… and longingly, through their future.