Deference Deferred

New York, early 1960s. A kid from Chaibasa steps off the plane in his best wool suit, on his way to pitch a deal to the Rockefellers.

Rockefeller’s aide greets him, sweeps him into a gleaming hotel, and says, “Mr Rungta, we’ll see you tomorrow at nine.”

“Wonderful,” Dadu replies. “You’ll pick me up?”

The man blinks. “Pick you up? Sir… you’ll take the subway.”

The temperature in the lobby drops ten degrees. Dadu’s smile tightens. He has spent weeks scraping together the fare for this trip; the last thing he’ll do is show up looking ordinary. Sensing the chill, the aide back-pedals:

“Mr Rockefeller himself takes the subway.”

Only then does Dadu relent. The next morning he rides downtown in a packed car, clutching the polished leather briefcase he can barely afford, determined to look like he belongs.

With President George H.W. Bush

He told me this story nearly forty years later, which means it never stopped needling him. “Even Mr Rockefeller rides the subway.”  Funny how a tiny slight, or slice of humility – can brand itself into memory.

It was never about luxury; it was about respect. He gave it freely, expected it in return, and never forgot how far a kid from a mining town had come.

Needless to say, he closed the deal.

– Prateek