Bald Goals

A Memoir of Motivation, Missed Starts, and Lavish Loos

I’ve always had a soft spot for motivation.
The kind that arrives with a name tag, a folding chair, and the promise that “life will never be the same again.”

Many years ago, just after I joined my father’s building materials and sanitary ware distribution business, I came across a newspaper ad that made me sit up straighter than usual.

Alyque Padamsee.
A two-day workshop.
In Coimbatore.

The Adman of India. The force behind Lintas. The voice of every ad that ever made selling feel like cinema.

I signed up instantly. It was the perfect excuse to get out of the shop, escape the storage racks and ceramic displays, and soak in some real marketing mojo.

And wow, what a workshop. Alyque didn’t just speak, he staged.
He walked among us and filled the sessions with stories, wit, and charisma that made the entire room feel like the backstage of an idea factory.

One story in particular stuck.

He said most ad agencies back in Bombay were housed in dull, cookie-cutter buildings with all the personality of a bank vault.

But when his team at Lintas brainstormed how to truly impress clients, they did something no agency had dared before:

They redesigned the office toilet.

Yes. The toilet.

They converted their sad little loo into a glimmering, five-star, marble-and-gold washroom that looked like it belonged in a Maharaja’s suite.

Then they invited their top clients over. Not for a pitch.
Just… a “visit.”

Meeting begins.
AC on full blast.
Cold drinks are served.
And naturally, biology kicks in.

The client excuses themselves.
Walks into what they think will be a basic toilet.
Emerges transformed… like they just went in a client and came out a brand ambassador.

It was ridiculous. It was brilliant. It worked.

The deal was usually half-done before the Presentation even started.

It was absurd. It was outstanding. I was hooked.

I even flirted with the idea of ditching Dad’s business to find a job in advertising.

But Coimbatore ended. I came back to Cochin.
And the closest I got to advertising was arranging brochures for German commodes.

Still, the hunger for ideas never left.
Over the years, I signed up for more seminars. Some left me inspired. Others left me hungry.

At one point, I dragged my daughter along to a session in Dubai by Dr. Edward de Bono. Yes, Mr. Lateral Thinking himself.
We even got a couple of his books signed.
They sit beside a dusty self-help CD set and a yoga mat that’s only ever hosted naps.

And then came him.

The bald guru.
The titan of productivity.
The man who made 5 a.m. feel like a moral imperative.
Robin Sharma.

Black shirt. Black trousers. Bald head that gleamed with intent.

“Set a bold goal!” he thundered from my laptop screen.
And I… eager, hopeful, and beginning to resemble him from the scalp upward… nodded in agreement like a man about to change the world.

Yes, I thought.
Start before you’re ready.
Don’t overthink.
Don’t overplan.
Just launch.
Just build.
Just… do.

That was several years ago.
I did nothing.

Robin Sharma, meanwhile, went on to write more books, run more marathons, post more videos, and probably achieve enlightenment before breakfast.
And I?
I just grew a little balder.

But here’s the strange truth:
I still believe.
I still show up to talks.
I still sit wide-eyed at stories of clever toilets and lateral thinking.
And sometimes I still nudge my daughter and whisper, “This one’s worth listening to.”

So maybe the point was never about becoming the next Alyque or Robin.
Maybe it’s about collecting those sparks, even if they don’t all catch fire at once.

And who knows?
Maybe one day, I’ll finally set that bold goal.
Maybe I’ll launch something big.
And if I ever host clients, I know where to begin.

Start with the bathroom.

Lintas did it to impress.
And technically, it’s how I started my career too… selling them.