My childhood was what fairy tales are all about.

The country’s premier industrial family, the Ambanis, have it all on a golden thali, so why does Nita Ambani have to work so hard? Shirin Mehta keeps an appointment with the First Lady of corporate India

Upstairs, she is padding the parquet floors in a silk kaftan, in shades of pinks and orange, that perfectly matches the hues of her dressing room. Under the large curlers in her hair, her face is luminous, carefully splashed with water several times a day and pampered only with innumerable glasses of nariel pani. Alpa and Seema, who are helping her with her ensembles today, trail behind her, beaming. Surrounded by a wardrobe in mint condition, artefacts to die for, the very finest that good taste and money can buy, she is strangely detached. She shows no communion with the trappings around her, passing serenely from under drapes of curtains and pretty furnishings with large pink flowers. She is the co-creator of the building, Sea Wind, having supervised its construction personally, from the grime and dust. She is the maker of these interiors and now she has moved on to other things – bigger, better things. There is much on her mind; too many projects close at hand and very close to her heart.

Nita Ambani, 41, India’s first industrial family’s bahu (The Reliance Group is the country’s largest business house with total revenues of over Rs 99,000 crore) energetic president of the Dhirubhai Ambani Foundation, who is passionate about healthcare, education and dance, traces her ability for hard work back to her childhood. She did not always live in a modern mansion, surrounded by exotic blooms, in Mumbai’s most-chic address. She once blissfully occupied a large, sprawling bungalow in the Mumbai suburb of Santa Cruz, surrounded by acres of garden, the centre of a tumultuous mix of uncles, aunts, grandmother ‘Ba’, a blind uncle who dubbed her ‘Florence Nightingale’, a slew of girl cousins and one boy cousin. The emphasis, while growing up, was on education and hard work, for the girls as much as for their ‘brother’. “The values I treasure even today, to work together and bond together, were instilled then,” says the lady as she recalls her early days. “My childhood was what fairy tales are all about.”

Fairy tales have a way of leaving you with hard lessons learnt and hers was no exception. Caring for a blind uncle and grandmother while making sure they were not treated any differently, taking turns in reading the newspaper to them, accompanying them on walks, became a part of the children’s lives. A battery of animals equally played a role in their days with visits to the nearby Juhu Beach to feed stray dogs, cats, birds, care for them and bring them home. A big well on the garden premises overflowed with water turtles that the kids brought home. On Saturday evenings, only after school was out for the weekend, the family got together to do what they wanted. One of the uncles played the tabla, the young lady danced to her heart’s content, an aunt read from the Bhagwad Gita…. “When you look back, you make memories and that’s all that you leave behind. I could not have asked for a better childhood.”

Not necessarily an easy childhood, for the lady. Take her early passion for dance. She remembers that her mother drove her to Churchgate daily for gruelling dance practise. Later, she travelled to Matunga by train to continue with her dance. She had a long way to walk to her classes and in the monsoons passing cars would invariably splash her. “Sometimes, it was tough, but dance is a passion and I felt that I could keep on doing things – I never thought of consequences or where all this would lead. I just wanted to live life to the fullest. In retrospect, I feel that what has seen me through is perseverance – it is what success is all about.” Later, as a married lady, she practised at the New Era School in Mumbai. Every evening, husband Mukesh would stop to take her home on his way back from work. “He would be walking on the road outside, up and down, waiting for me to come out. But, I could never stop.”

Today, on a Sunday, or during a rare moment of rest, the lady dons her ghungroos, much to the amusement of her family and loses herself in dance all about the home. Bharat Natyam is her passion for life, she exclaims. No one dare touch those little bells or put them away. After 14 years, she has rediscovered her love for Indian classical dance, taking to it once again like a fish to water, working determinedly on her stamina. Her daughter might watch but does not share her fervour. The lady’s childhood has taught her to allow her daughter to develop her own strengths, in this case music and painting. The lady tinkles joyously recalling what her mother, once a folk dancer, has to say about her: ‘a light-footed dancer on the threads of life.’ With her penchant for turning even her joys into hard work, the lady has decided to devote herself to the promotion of Indian culture and dance, as her new project.

The lady is a girl of twenty, lissom, fair and immersed in the lead role of a dance ballet on Dussera day, a big event for the Gujarati community. Involved in her nimble footwork, she probably thinks back to her first public performance as a seven-year-old where she was so embarrassed to discover that the first 30 rows of the small theatre were occupied proudly by her family, leaving little space for anyone else. Today, after the performance ‘someone’ tells her that she has been noticed and is being asked for. She is surprised. Who is it? That evening, she receives a call from a man who is to play a very special part in her life. Her future father-in-law and industrial giant, Dhirubhai Ambani has himself earmarked the lady who will marry his elder son. “Not only is dance a passion,” she says, softly. “It has also given Mukesh to me.”

So now, will she sit back on her haunches and relax? Will the sparky student who represented her school and college in drama, dance, academics, sports and swimming, finally catch her breath? Will she forget her long-learnt lesson of hard work and perseverance, in the rarefied strata that her mentor had put her into? Pay heed to the lady’s day, as a new bride. Whilst doing her graduation, she worked early mornings at a city nursery school, indulging an early passion for teaching. Afternoon college ended at six and then back home to complete her assignments and prepare for her nursery children the next day. Evenings, wherever she was, she had to be home for ‘Papa’ at 7 p.m. sharp, for seven to eight was her hour with her father-in-law, every day.

Her late father-in-law, Dhirubhai Ambani, has been the lady’s greatest teacher in life. Quick, rapid-fire questions greeted her every evening at 7 p.m. Questions on the stock market, the economy, about what was happening in Argentina, what was going on in the USSR. And, every so often, she thought to herself, tomorrow he will ask me about Reliance. She kept herself prepared but it never happened. “This trained my mind to be very alert. ‘Papa’ was a very rich man, by his heart – very large hearted. He taught me not to worry about little-little things but to always look at the larger picture in life. His intuition about people was so good. From him, I learnt to keep away from those with negative energy and think positive thoughts all the time,” she says.

We struck a great rapport coming to a good friendship. I could talk to him so much – like no daughter-in-law would be able to.” Politicians, international personalities, celebrities would drop in for dinner at the Ambani home and the lady remembers times when she wished that she could excuse herself. “No way could I escape dinner. He would say ‘sit’ and I would have to be there. In the beginning, I would hate it but then, I began to enjoy the conversation. Having had no children for the first seven years, I could give myself completely to the learning experience.”
Onerous days for the lady, those. Married to the eldest Ambani son and no heir in sight. These were emotionally harrowing days, difficult to cope with, especially for a young 21-year-old who slowly, over the years, turned 29. Having children became a personal project which she devoted herself to completely. “I have had to struggle for everything I have got.” Surprising this. “But, I have just gone ahead and done whatever I felt was right. Nothing in my life has come easily.” The twins, Isha and Akash(12) who she had predicted she would have – with her uncanny sense of destiny, even as she did not conceive – were born prematurely. And then, the youngest, Hari Anant (9) the one who was born 10 days early on Ram Navami, the one who has inherited the lady’s all-consuming love of animals.

There were times, the lady recalls, when the Ambani household was beginning to look like a farmhouse with goats, sheep and several roosters rescued from slaughter at Crawford Market, being in residence with the children. The birds would crow like clockwork, every 4.30 a.m. And so, an animal shelter was created at Navi Mumbai where abandoned, hurt or harmed animals are brought and cared for. “And they never leave,” she laughs. Anant travels around in a van, in case some creature may need to come aboard. Today, the nine-year-old is managing a high-tech mobile animal ambulance that moves daily through the city.

The lady is sipping from her mug of coffee which she indulges in only once a day and in dashes her son from school. “My fish died,” he announces. All attention, she turns towards him, eyes wide. “How?” she asks. “He was sick and we could not save him!” In rush two Yorkshire terriers, Magic and Sparkle. The lady’s eyes light up as they rush to her. You know that she is a dog person, an animal person, as these two scamper over designer togs with scant concern. She cuddles them even as she relates the story of these tiny gifts from London, almost dehydrated before they could be released through customs. A two-year battle for their lives saw an intensive care unit being set up at home. Today, the two are dancing at her feet, as if in gratitude for her effort. Meanwhile, I am thinking, the lady sure can tell a tale. An observation that finds affirmation on another warm day at the Dhirubhai Ambani International School in Mumbai.

The pale gold BMW stops outside at the gate where we had alighted earlier. The lady is dressed in turquoise blue and beige, her watch colour perfectly complementing her outfit as always, her Louis Vuitton ‘Theda’ bag from the latest collection. Her day jewellery, as usual, is startlingly, expensively subtle. She is resplendent. Her sense of style comes from a belief in herself, in a constant reinventing and rediscovery rather than the dictates of fashion and trends. (“I am very fond of reinventing old things,” she said later. “Now, my daughter does it for me, she is my chief advisor at this moment.”) With sartorial nonchalance, she does not care about the designer she is wearing, she does not even know. She greets everyone by name, never stumbling or searching for one. The children engulf her with familiarity since she comes here every day and she is comfortable being jostled, pushed a little bit and questioned. She has them enthralled, weaving a story as we wield the camera. When we finish, she bluntly informs us that her story has not ended. She continues to evoke blue people, purple people, green people. She talks about friendship. She isn’t walking away because she is an Ambani, because she owns this school. Eventually, she arises, thanks the children, politely wishes them a good journey home and we ascend the six floors to her wood-panelled office area. The school is a passion, a place that makes her, the chairperson and prime mover, obviously happy.

The school was conceived two years ago out of her early passion for teaching. The first two months of construction saw her stepping over stones, crossing the marshy triangular-shaped piece of land at Bandra-Kurla, supervising its creation out of sheds and tents which served as office space. The dust and the sun irritated her particularly sensitive skin and turned her three shades darker. “We were working day in and day out,” she recalls. From her usual eye for detail and her attention to every minute thing, has grown a school full of light with a strong breeze blowing through mosaic-lined walls in green, blue and yellow and ruffling banners that announce ‘growth’, ‘individuality’, ‘enquiry’, ‘knowledge’, ‘research’….

This has not been her first attempt at school building. She has conceptualised and developed three schools at Patalganga, Surat and Jamnagar, this last the refinery site of Reliance Petroleum Limited. Here, she personally led the creation of a world class, international township for 3000 families. The lady was still a new mother, the twins now five years old. Twice a week, for two years, she travelled three hours there and three hours back from Jamnagar, in the Reliance Beechcraft, which dipped and swung with every air pocket. “It meant waking up at 6.30 a.m. sharp, travelling long hours, going there twice a week, every week, for two years. It was just hard work and perseverance that saw me through.” It was not surprising that, at this time, everyone at home was also going ‘Jamnagar-Jamnagar’ she reminisces. Her daughter thought this was a town full of jam and impatiently awaited a treat that never arrived. The first word that her son uttered after ‘Papu’ and ‘Mummy’ was ‘Jamnagar’. One particular day, the family discovered itself tripping over cotton thread from the mandir which had been tied from the kitchen up to the family room by her two-and-a-half-year-old. Pipelines, they were informed. Like the ones that transported crude oil in Jamnagar. “For two years, the children were growing up on a Jamnagar staple diet,” she says. “For me, Jamnagar was a learning experience. Then, I would go often to ‘Papa’ and Mukesh to ask, is this the right thing?” She brought this experience recently to the creation of the Dhirubhai Ambani Knowledge City on a 125-acre site near Mumbai, housing information and communication facilities of Reliance Infocom. “Knowledge City was built in 14 months with tight financial budgeting. I was answerable to the board but I no longer needed to go back to Mukesh for everything.” Her brief from her husband had been ‘make this city for me, a place that the workers would want to come back to every Monday morning’.

The lady isn’t bragging when she summarises, candidly: “I am very hardworking. I am very organised. I get into micro-details. I keep my mind open and absorb all things.” These are her strengths and the fact that she has always done what she believes in, paying scant attention to trends. That she does not give up easily. That her husband always encouraged her without giving her easy solutions. That she was always her own person, bigger than the biggest surname around. “I am fortunate that I have such a huge canvas to paint on,” she admits. And what if she had not married an Ambani? “I would definitely have been in education, probably started my own school – in a small way.”

Her destiny will push her into bigger realms. There was that day, this summer in Washington, when Mukesh – chairman and managing director, Reliance Industries Limited, chairperson of the International Red Cross Foundation, on the board of directors of Stanford Business School and with a vision oft-discussed in business circles – was presented with the Asia Society Leadership Award by the Asia Society, USA. (Previous awardees include Indira Gandhi, Lee Kuan Yew, Henry Kissinger, amongst other luminaries.) On that occasion, Senator Hillary Clinton, delivered the keynote address.

Over to the lady who, with the children, accompanied her husband: “Senator Clinton was sitting next to me. She gave the most awesome speech. She spoke so well of India and the graciousness of Mrs Sonia Gandhi. Mukesh had to speak after her. As it is my stomach goes crazy when he goes up on stage. There was so much noise over dinner with crockery and cutlery clanking. He started speaking and in two minutes there was pin drop silence. I was sitting there praying and while I was clenching my hands, I felt a hand touch mine gently. It was the Senator. She recounted how nervous she had been when her daughter Chelsea gave her first speech. I asked her if she would run for president of the US. I said that I felt she would do a terrific job as America’s first lady President, given her background, her learning, her wisdom.”

I ask the lady, what are the values that you wish to instil in your children? Pat comes the reply, “They need to know that nothing is available on a golden platter. I teach the quality of hard work through example. They say to us, mama and Papa, the last two years you have been working so hard. They sat through Mukesh’s award ceremony in Washington; heard his lecture that he gave at Stanford. It is important to reinforce the fact that Mukesh has not achieved all this except by hard work and perseverance.” No wonder then that Isha eats, breathes and dreams Reliance. She begins her morning with the Economic Times and often reads it on the long ride to school. Twin Akash has his own way of dealing with the lessons of hard work, developing the very human quality of knowing all the workers at Sea Wind personally and their family histories too.

The lady’s lifestyle means things given up, perhaps with some regret. No family vacation in two years, until this summer. No time for the lady to do things of leisure – to go shopping or out to lunch. (She loves the thought of going to the Sea Lounge at the Taj and having a cup of coffee while watching the waves.) A long working day means no socialising on weeknights. And when she does, she prefers to meet up with old friends – mainly doctors – whose company she still values. (She hates watching movies but does so, just to keep her husband company.) “I have to lead a very disciplined life and I pray every day,” she says. “I would love to take off with my children, to spend more time with my ageing parents but it is not always possible.” Instead, she is honing her talent at time management – juggling time and schedules to get the most out of each day – for as she says, “These last few years have been a whirlwind but I have never sat back in my life.”

At the exclusive Verve shoot, the lady is crouched, unselfconsciously, on a zebra-striped floor rug; her attention focussed on the pictures that are illuminated on the laptop monitor. For her, this is a rare day at home. She is on her haunches, albeit on a floor of luxury, emeralds striking in her ears. She is exclaiming, drawing everyone into her – giving her all even to this experience, as she does with everything she undertakes. If she is thinking about all the things she is planning – a scaling up of her school, a big expansion of the Hurkisondas Hospital, a school for special children and a spreading of Indian culture and dance – she doesn’t look distracted. She is a grassroots kind of person. She is a people’s person. And while those around her would accord her a humongous amount of deference, she isn’t completely buying into this ‘power’ thing. She has made her entire life into a project – always in the works. Perhaps, in a quiet moment, she even finds her weighty surname, overwhelming. But, as with all things, she will work that out – for herself.