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I grew up in a lower middle class family, and English was not my first language. I was lucky enough to go to an English medium school, but the language wasn’t spoken most of the time in our household; Gujarati was. In fact, my parents actually sent me to voice and pronunciation classes to help me overcome my early struggles in learning the language. It was not cheap, but they were smart enough to know that paying for this soft skill would be even more valuable than spending on school fees. To say I was an awkward public speaker is putting it kindly.
In my teens, the importance of communication began to dawn on me. The cool, confident kids could tell funny stories and jokes. And the leaders of the class could give inspiring speeches, make friends easily and persuade people to see their point of view in debates. So I decided to do something about my weak communication skills. I signed up for debates, elocution classes and, later, theater. Initially, I was a mess at all three. But then I learnt the most important communication lesson of all: rehearse, prepare and then hear yourself. Let me explain what I mean.
During a debate practice someone said, "Wait a minute… wait a minute. Let me record you and let you hear yourself.” The first time I heard myself, I thought, "My God, is this really how I sound? It’s awful!” But then I would rehearse, prepare some more, and then record and review my performance. Slowly but surely, I smoothed out the rough spots in my communication until it was clear, clean and crisp. It wasn’t easy, but the more I heard my recorded voice, the more I knew I had to correct it, even if that meant standing in front of the mirror for hours, frustrated, till I eventually saw slow improvement. After that, it was all about practice and not forgetting how bad I was.
In college, I took the same approach to theater and acting. Rehearsals were from 6 p.m. to 9 p.m. after a full day’s work. I’d walk in tired and exhausted, but it was so much fun that by the time I left I was re-energized. Over and over and over again, we’d run through the same scenes in a play until it was perfect. And then the director would say, "Okay, lovely. Let’s take it again,” which meant starting from the beginning and doing it all over again. That experience taught me a lesson I’ve never forgotten — when it comes to communication, there’s no such thing as being over-prepared.  

 

 

 

 

 

I failed my second year of college. No joke. When it happened, my first thought was that my life was over. Done. Finished. I would forever be haunted by a red-inked resume — one that told the world I was such a failure that I couldn’t even make it through my second year of college. Worse, I feared I had failed my parents. They had worked and saved their hard-earned money for years just so I could go to school. Now, I was worried I had brought them disappointment and shame. 
Then I took a breath, calmed down, and pushed away the initial cloud of fear. My parents were upset and disappointed, but I used their saddened reaction as fuel to get myself focused. I then took the failed subjects again, finished with strong marks, and kept going. It was a powerful lesson in humility. From then on, I worked hard and never took things for granted.
You don’t have any money to pursue your goals? I can relate to that. When I was 18 years old, I was faced with my first big financial loss. I did not have any money to my name prior to that anyway, I was broke. Two of my friends and I decided to host a rock concert. It was a great show but commercially it was a flop. We were Rs 50,000 in loss — an enormous amount to us at that point in life. It took me almost a year to first beg and borrow and then pay it back. But I did. Today, I consider that one of my important early lessons.

It was 2003, and we were shooting the film Swades, one of my favorite movie productions, and later eponymous with our Swades Foundation. In the movie, actor Shah Rukh Khan plays a NASA (National Aeronautics and Space Administration) engineer and Ivy League graduate in the US who returns to his home in rural India when his parents die. The longer he remains in India, the more he longs to stay and bring about change.
The main location for the film was a place called Wai, situated at the foothills of Panchgani and Mahabaleshwar in Maharashtra. One scene required Shah Rukh’s character to visit a rustic hut near the mountains. To film the scene, we had to make a brutal three-hour journey through some of the most treacherous terrain I’ve ever seen. For weeks, Shah Rukh had suffered serious back problems that were so severe that doctors were discussing surgery to be done immediately after we finished the movie. With every jolt and bump we hit along the ride, I could see Shah Rukh’s face wince in pain. When we finally arrived at the location, we realized the tiny hut could have easily been built on a studio set — the immensely painful three-hour ride could have been avoided.
Many A-list movie stars in that situation would have thrown a tantrum. Demanded VIP treatment. Exploded in an entitled rage. Shah Rukh did none of that. He acknowledged the situation and didn’t say another word about it before turning in a world class performance. There’s a reason we call him "Sleepless Shah Rukh” — he gives his all and never quits. All shine, no whine.

One of my worst habits used to be interrupting people and not letting them finish speaking. I thought I was being super smart by cutting people off before they were done speaking. "Look, I got it. I got it,” I’d say abruptly in the middle of their sentence. Not only was it rude, it was also just plain wrong. There was no possible way for me to read their minds and know exactly what they might say next. Then my mom said something I’ve never forgotten since.
One day she said to me, "Ronnie, when the food comes to the table, do you start putting chillies and salt in your food before even tasting it? Would you do that?” And I told her, "No, obviously not. I have to taste the food, figure out if it lacks salt or spice and then I can put things in.” She smiled and said, "So why don’t you listen and let people finish? Just like you don’t know if your food needs salt or spices, you don’t know what the other person’s thoughts and ideas are unless you listen and don’t interrupt.” Wise woman, my mom.