In the annals of Indian entrepreneurship, few stories shine as brightly—and fall as sharply—as that of C. Sivasankaran, the maverick founder of Aircel. From humble beginnings at 24, crafting power equipment to compete with industry behemoths like BHEL, to entering India’s cutthroat telecom sector and brushing shoulders with the likes of Bharti Airtel and BSNL, Sivasankaran had the vision, guts, and timing. But what he lacked, by his own admission, were two simple, strategic moves: mastering Hindi and relocating to India’s power centers.
“If I had learned Hindi… if I had moved to Delhi or Bombay, I would have definitely made ₹1 lakh crore,” he confessed in a rare and brutally candid interview with Ranveer Allahbadia.
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This is not the usual tale of blaming policy hurdles, business rivals, or sheer misfortune. Instead, it’s a striking self-assessment that places the emphasis not on operational missteps, but on the soft, often underestimated edges of entrepreneurship—cultural access and geographic positioning.
Sivasankaran’s blunt admission shines a light on an uncomfortable truth: India’s corridors of power, capital, and influence still largely run through Delhi and Mumbai—and in Hindi. Despite his extraordinary risk appetite and ability to attract capital without ever taking personal loans, he found himself on the outside looking in. Big deals slipped through not because of lack of ambition or ability, but because he was simply too far—linguistically and physically—from where the real influence resided.
These two decisions—not learning Hindi and not relocating—may seem minor, but in the world of high-stakes entrepreneurship, they were seismic. His experience underscores a systemic challenge many regional entrepreneurs face: brilliance and boldness can take you far, but breaking into India’s elite business circles often requires fluency not just in business, but in cultural code and proximity.
Now 68, under the cloud of bankruptcy and legal troubles including alleged loan defaults and money laundering, Sivasankaran is attempting a comeback with a smart home venture in Chennai. His belief in India’s evolving regulatory climate may hint at a new chapter, but the echo of his two regrets will likely shape the legacy he leaves behind.
In the end, Sivasankaran’s story is not just about telecom or technology—it’s about the weight of missed moves. When he says, “That’s it,” after naming just two regrets, it’s less an excuse and more a strategic post-mortem for every entrepreneur who underestimates the value of language and location.
Sometimes, it’s not the product, the market, or the pitch. Sometimes, it’s simply about showing up in the right place—speaking the right tongue.
