There is this moment that keeps coming back to me. I had gone to him with a cluttered mind, a student’s nervous energy and a stack of talking points about speaker requests and student council logistics. He looked up and smiled as if I wasn’t interrupting anything important – though I knew he had a thousand things on his plate. He closed whatever he was working on and leaned back, as if to say, “I’m listening. Take your time.” There was no rush in the room after that. No phone pulled out. No glances at the clock. Just presence. Calm, focused! And by the time I walked away, we had spoken less about operations and more about life – resilience, pressure, the quiet discipline of showing up even when no one is watching.
That was his gift – for students, colleagues, anyone who crossed his path. Where hierarchy was expected, he offered humanity.
From Lamplight to Leadership
In 2006, as I began my CA journey, Mano Sir became President of ICAI, India’s premier accounting body. His story was legend: the Gudiyatham boy who studied by lamplight, walked barefoot to school and built a practice from a 300-square-foot office. His teaching notes became a tax textbook that clarified the complex for thousands.
As ICAI President, he didn’t just wear the title, he transformed what it meant. He published a detailed action report at the end of his term, showing exactly what had been accomplished. Nobody asked him to do that. He did it because transparency genuinely mattered to him, and accountability wasn’t an act but an intrinsic part of who he was.
The Mentor Who Listened
When I got to know him in 2008, during my time as General Secretary of the Southern India Chartered Accountants Students’ Association (SICASA), what struck me wasn’t his achievements, it was how completely present he was. You could approach him with student concerns, exam anxiety, questions about navigating the profession, and he would listen like your words mattered. He had this way of shifting conversations beyond the immediate. “How are you handling the pressure?” “What are you learning about yourself through all this?” “What kind of professional do you want to become?” At that time, I thought we were just making conversation. Looking back, I realise he was doing something much deeper, he was seeing the person underneath the student role.
I remember mentioning to him once that more students needed to hear his perspective on handling pressure and setbacks. A few weeks later, when we were scrambling to finalise speakers for our National Students Conference, we called him. No hesitation. “Of course,” he said. “What do you need me to talk about?” He came and spoke about “The Secret to Success.” No corporate jargon, no motivational platitudes. He spoke like someone who remembered exactly what it felt like to be young and overwhelmed. That was the thing about him, success never created distance. If anything, it made him more accessible!
Steering the Satyam Recovery
But then came Satyam in 2009. When India faced one of its worst corporate scandals, when trust in the profession was shaking, the government didn’t look for the loudest voice or the most connected player. They looked for the steadiest and Mano sir was called in. He calmly stabilised the company, reassured employees, and convinced banks with meticulous financial plans, orchestrating a historic rescue without seeking the spotlight.
In 2010 he was adorned with the Padma Shri award, India’s fourth-highest civilian honour for his contributions to public service and ethical leadership. But even as national recognition poured in, he remained exactly the same man he had always been, who made time for student interactions.
I was asked to help document his journey in 2019. I didn’t approach it as a formal biography but captured my firsthand experiences with him. The accolades tell you what he accomplished. But they don’t tell you about the way he made a student, mattered! And that’s what comes to my mind now. Not the titles or the recognition, but those moments when he chose presence over productivity, when he offered humanity instead of hierarchy.
Rest in peace, sir. You made time stand still for so many of us, and that gift will keep rippling forward in ways you probably never imagined!