Because Shit Happened

Harsh Snehanshu

Description

On a fateful winter day, Amol Sabharwal, co-founder of one of the most ambitious start-up ventures in the country, yourquote.in, decides to quit. What makes Amol quit his own business venture just when it is on the brink of raising its first round of funding?Harsh Snehanshu, bestselling author of Oops! I Fell in Love! gives us an insider's peek into the big, bad entrepreneurial world of fame, betrayal, lust for power, greed, and unethical business practices. Based on the real-life story of the start-up that the author co-founded in 2010, Because Shit Happened will tell you what NOT to do in a start-up.

Informations

• Publié par: Random House Publishers India Pvt. Ltd.
• Date de parution: 19 février 2013
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9788184003932
• Langue: English

Extrait

RANDOM HOUSE INDIA
Published by Random House India in 2013
Copyright Harsh Snehanshu 2013
Random House Publishers India Private Limited Windsor IT Park, 7th Floor, Tower-B A-1, Sector-125, Noida-201301 (UP)
Random House Group Limited 20 Vauxhall Bridge Road London SW1V 2SA United Kingdom
This book is loosely based on the author s own life. However, all conversations, characters, events, and happenings have been completely fictionalized and any resemblance to any person, living or dead, is purely coincidental. All views and opinions expressed in this book are the author s own.
This eBook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author s and publisher s rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.
EPUB ISBN 9788184003932
To my parents, Sudha and S.S. Pathak, for believing and investing their trust in me
Contents
Author s Note
Prologue
The Spark
Sharing the Idea
The Stepping Stone
Affairs Aplenty
The Quantum Leap
Going Solo
Eureka
Mishra
The Rotten Mango
Goodbye, Forever
The Comeback
No Time for Love
The Birth of a Competitor
All Hell Broke Loose
War with Anjali
A Date with Investors
Kanpur Times
The End
Rishabh Speaks
Death of a Child
Epilogue
Acknowledgements
A Note on the Author
Author s Note
Before I proceed, it s important to forewarn you that this book is not just a guide to a start-up. It s also a real life story of two ambitious entrepreneurs who failed miserably. Entrepreneurs, as you might know, are crazy beings. They get excited when faced with a challenge and God forbid, if they find something that poses a challenge to others, their madness turns into an epidemic and inducts many more. With time, we have been made to believe that entrepreneurs are tough as steel, capable of bearing pain, facing countless struggles, and taking everything in their stride for the sake of their ideas. But only an entrepreneur can tell you that there are times when he gets scared, when he wishes to cry, and when he wishes to be enveloped in his mother s arms, away from the gruelling world. This book touches upon that aspect-the emotional side-of entrepreneurship, where all your relationships stand the test of time as you fight the world on your own.
This book would not have been possible without the turn of events at a critical juncture in my life. I thank all those who have been a part of my entrepreneurial journey, however short lived it may have been. Some of you might not like the fact that the story is being brought up now. But as a writer and a former entrepreneur, I feel this book had to be written so it could be of help to all the budding entrepreneurs and guide them to not repeat the same mistakes that I made. I am still not a successful entrepreneur and so I can t really tell what it takes to become successful, but I definitely know what it does NOT take to become one. Hope you enjoy the disastrous journey I m making you partake.
Knowing when to lose is more important than knowing how to win.
Prologue
Patna, Bihar
When I was twelve, I had a very serious conversation with my mother. I wanted to know the answer to a question that had been bothering me for the past few days.
Mom, will you and Daddy ever leave me? I asked her.
Yes, if we find a more obedient boy than you, then we definitely would, she said, her serious face increasing my worries with each passing minute. Then she suddenly broke into a huge smile and I knew there was nothing to worry about. She was only kidding!
Mom, seriously, please answer me, I persisted.
No, Amol. We will never leave you, she assured me.
But my curiosity was still not satiated and my question was not going to be bogged down by a simple yes or no.
Never ever? I asked once again.
No parent will ever leave his or her child, no matter what happens. Never ever, she said. Her eyes twinkled this time.
I smiled, took my cricket bat, and went outside to play gully cricket, imbibing her statement as the universal truth that was never going to change. The question never haunted me again. Well, not for ten years.
A decade later, when I became a parent to my baby-my start-up-the question resurfaced and drilled an irreparable hole in my heart. After raising my start-up from birth for two whole years, I left it. Yes, I left my child. And I never bothered to look back. Never ever.
The Spark
May 25, 2009
Glasgow, UK
Shades of blue painted my laptop screen. Like always, my eyes were glued to the screen. I re-read the address bar for the umpteenth time that day. It said www.facebook.com .
Sign up, connect and share with the people in your life. It s free and always will be.
I read the above lines twice. It was my first encounter with a mission statement of a company. And I was touched by its simplicity. I logged in, completely awestruck.
There was a dark blue bar on top which contained the logo of Facebook written in lowercase. No flashy fonts, no flashy colors. There was a notification box at the bottom right (yes, it used to be there in 2009!), something known as a News Feed in the centre, a few sponsored ads on the right, and my profile on the left. After assimilating whatever I saw, I came to a realization. That I frigging hated the damn website! Everyone could read my updates, which was so unlike the social network with the funny name that I was addicted to-Orkut. Whatever I wrote on my wall was visible to everybody. And whatever I was writing on my friend s wall was visible to all our mutual friends. It seemed so sickening! All the privacy was suddenly turned into news for people who had absolutely no connection with it in the first place, thus the name News Feed .
I cursed the friends who spammed me with numerous mails asking me to join the damn site. Harassed, I wrote my first status.
I hate Facebook. It s boring, disorganized, and does not respect privacy at all.
And I closed the tab.

Hello sugar.
Priya loved it when I called her sugar. She was the woman I was madly in love with. Back in India, she was counting the days left for my return to the country.
Hi boyfriend , she said in her typically excited tone.
It had been almost one month since I last saw her face. I had come to Glasgow, Scotland, on a three-month summer internship program, and I still had two months to go. Almost everybody at IIT, just by virtue of being an IITian, aspired to get a sponsored internship in the second year, where one hoped of working less and travelling more. I was one of those lucky ones who got a fully sponsored, academically stimulating research internship at the Optics group of the University of Glasgow.
Have you heard of this thing called Facebook? I asked her.
Huh, so my boyfriend gets the time from his busy schedule to call his oh-so-awesome girlfriend from the other end of the globe and the first thing he wants to know is whether I know about a frikkin social networking site! Aren t you already too addicted to that Orkut thing of yours? she retaliated. Being one of those rare species who preferred the real world more than its virtual counterpart, she completely despised the concept of an online social network. Orkut had been her mortal enemy for getting more attention from me lately.
Wow, so you have heard of it! I thought you were technically imbecile, I remarked.
I always keep myself updated with the arrival of my competitors, especially when I have loyal friends like you who send me an invite to join it, she replied sharply, which, as I thought in my head, would have definitely been followed by a wink.
Smart. You would be glad to know that I don t like her, I said.
Her? Who is she?
Your rival, Facebook. I just posted my first update a couple of minutes ago.
Yes, I saw that. I even liked it along with three other people.
Really? Which three?
Pratik, Ravi, and another girl-Mary. Who is she? Priya asked curiously.
Well, she s just a woman I have had the pleasure of spending a few nights with, I joked, hoping to fuel her anger even further. In the meanwhile, I unconsciously logged into the website that had sent me to hate trips an hour ago.
Is she blind?
No, she is dumb like you. I m going now; have to check my notifications, I said, my mouse pointer inadvertently moving towards the bottom right corner where number 3 popped up in a red voice-box. The hatred at first sight was immediately vaporized.
Hello, come again? You just told me you hated it, she said.
I was too engrossed in what was displaying on my computer screen to pay any heed to her, and so disconnected the call.
A moment later, number 3 changed to 4, with a wall post from Priya complimenting me: You are the biggest jerk on this planet.
I liked the post. And unknowingly, I started to like Facebook as well.

Two days later, Orkut was history and Facebook became the next grand love affair of my life. Already an avid blogger, I could not find a better place to showcase my opinions, get friends and readers to read them, involve them in a discussion, and more than anything else, get appreciated for it in the form of likes . Such was my obsession with likes that I started coming up with something outrageously witty, or at times, profound or philosophical, just in hope of getting likes. Facebook became a mini-blog for me.
To Priya, I became a bigger jerk with each passing day since she would come to know about my well-being more via Facebook than through my awaited international calls-although the website did provide her with a medium to keep a constant tab on me.
It allowed her check my pictures in picturesque Scotland, including