When Colonel Satya Pal Wahi took his morning walk in the park near his home in Gurgaon, a city 32 kilometers outside the Indian capital of New Delhi, he always took a few copies of FORBES AFRICA with him. When influential people stopped him for chat, which happened often to one of India’s best known people, he would hand them a copy with a recommendation that they read it. He believed that our reporting was promoting business in Africa, 5,000 miles away, and gave his time and energy, selflessly, to support this. That was the kind of man Colonel Wahi was; always working, looking forward and willing a better world.
In his busy office, Colonel Wahi read and dissected every line of FORBES AFRICA. Often he used to correspond with me about our articles with beautiful, flowing, prose; always concise, and precise.
In person, he was a warm, humble, kind, and gentle man, with whom there was never a dull moment. I had the honor to meet him a number of times, on his many visits to Africa, and also at the weddings of his grandchildren on home soil.
I was always struck by his energy and tireless erudition. With his eyes lit up, it was always straight into the issues of the day. The last time, in Chandigarh, we debated, at length, the opportunities and pitfalls of artificial intelligence.
Colonel Wahi passed on this passion for business and life to his son, Rakesh, who was also an Indian Army officer engineer and the present publisher of FORBES AFRICA; his grandson, Sid, is the executive director of our magazine.
A remarkable man, who had lived a memorable and illustrious life, was born in Khushab, a small village near Lahore, in what is now Pakistan. He graduated in electrical and mechanical engineering from Banaras Hindu University. On graduation he joined the Indian Military Academy, Dehradun, before joining the Corps of the Electrical and Mechanical Engineers, in 1950, where he reached the rank of Colonel.
On retiring from the army, Colonel Wahi served many corporate enterprises which included Bokaro Steel Plant (1969-74), Bharat Heavy Electricals (1974-78), before joining Cement Corporation of India (CCI), a wholly-owned company of the Government of India as its chairman. He turned the loss-making CCI into a profitable business and, in 1981, was appointed chairman of ONGC, the largest oil and gas exploration and production company in India. His tenure at ONGC coincided with the development of Bombay High offshore oilfields and he is credited with contributions in raising India&#8217;s oil output from 9 million tons to 32 million tons per annum. His efforts are also reported behind the modernization of the organization by the introduction of computerization and modern office facilities and the establishment of a training center for the organization.
There were a number of occasions where Col. Wahi&#8217;s charismatic leadership was hailed. One such incident was his deft handling of the blowout in the offshore drilling rig Sagar Vikas. His professional stewardship in the case not only handled the blowout effectively, but ONGC was praised all over the media for the courageous act of the Oil Soldiers of India. A more significant victory, perhaps, was the confidence that grew in the cadres of ONGC after this incident.
After his stint at ONGC, he was associated with Bharat Ophthalmic Glass Limited and served as the Chairman of the Standing Committee of Public Enterprises.
A recipient of the degree of Doctor of Science (honoris causa) from three Indian universities, Wahi has also received honors such as Petrotech Lifetime Achievement Award, Indian Geophysical Union Silver jubilee Award and Giants International Award. The Government of India awarded him the third-highest civilian honor of the Padma Bhushan, in 1988, for his contribution to society.
The world was richer for the life of Col Satya Pal Wahi and poorer for his passing. His legacy will live for all time.

Farewell To A Gentle Titan

As I left the airport I was greeted by temperatures of over 35 degrees, it was humid and uncomfortable but within minutes I was seated in an air-conditioned car. My itinerary said that Agra was 205 kilometers away, so I figured it would be a two-hour drive. I didn’t realize the speed limit was 40 kms an hour—the journey took five painful hours. Yes at that speed, I still felt as though the driver was speeding—he kept swerving to avoid the crater size potholes. Driving in India is scary—there’s no adherence to the road markings; overtaking on a solid line is common practice; drivers hoot incessantly and cut lanes. Surprisingly, no one gets upset, no one swears or raises their hands and I arrived safely.
Agra—home of the famous Taj Mahal—is a bustling town, which looks like it had been derelict for a long time and suddenly people rushed back to rebuild it. The streets are filled with rows of abandoned housing complexes, small shanty shops and tangled power lines, which are connected mostly illegally. Cattle paraded the street without a care in the world—these sacred animals are kept like pets; children play alongside them and traffic stalls until they pass. Beef products are not allowed and if you see a steak on the menu, it’s probably buffalo meat. The McDonalds menu consists of chicken, fish and paneer burgers, with the McMaharaj being the equivalent of a Big Mac.
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Another big attraction, without which a trip to India would be incomplete, is the Taj Mahal. The white marble mausoleum was completed in 1649 in honor of emperor Shah Jahan’s favorite wife.
I drove back to New Delhi—the capital of India and home to more than 20 million people. It’s a more contemporary city, which houses the Indian parliament. Beautiful parks and gardens broke the sights of the bustling traffic, which seemed to go on for the entire day.
The food was delicious, we ate like kings, but only in restaurants. The street food looked and smelt divine, with Tikka chicken and roasted paneer on most corners, but horrible stories of ‘Delhi belly’ helped me resist.
From the capital, I travelled to Chennai, formerly known as Madras, where I had more of a culture shock as motorbikes and gas-guzzling tuk-tuks filled the streets. The streets of the densely populated city are busy until late, markets offer great bargains on fabrics and gold jewelry and food stalls, on most corners, fill the pavements with brightly colored, sweet delights.
From city to countryside, I decided to drop the pace a notch and travel to Kerala, further south. I boarded a luxury houseboat, which floated along the quiet backwaters of the Alleppey River. The highlight was stopping on the banks to buy fresh fish and prawns. I had never seen such big prawns before and never had my taste buds enjoyed such flavor. The houseboat cook skillfully prepared the seafood with his special spices. Eating on a houseboat, listening to the small ripples in the water and the crickets near the banks was another highlight.
The next day I caught a flight to Goa—India’s smallest state but a very popular tourist spot. Small windy streets, forest-like vegetation and the white sandy beaches are big attractions for foreigners and Indians alike. The region is known for its large spice plantations and cashew nuts. Gambling is popular here, unlike in the rest of India.
Mumbai, the home of Bollywood, is more liberal than the other Indian states—the people speak English well and are less traditional in their dress. Fancy five star hotels line the beach front. It’s known as a commercial hub and the economic giant of India as it is home to two Indian stock exchanges. Transport services are excellent: busses run frequently; bright yellow and black cabs fill the more affluent parts of town; tuk-tuks do short runs around the market areas and three million people travel through the famous Victoria Train Station every day, which is also a UNESCO World Heritage Site.
A sharp contrast though are the huge slums deeper in the city—children ran in the streets trying to sell scarves, beautifully woven materials and miniature elephants, when they should have been at school. We visited a massive open-air laundry where 2,000 men—who have taken on laundry contracts from nearby hotels—were washing sheets and towels. The government provides them with clean water and industrial dryers. Water is not safe to drink in India, even Indians drink bottled water.
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While I was there, it was Independence Day, 65 years of independence and yet India looks like it’s battling a dilemma of moving into a new age with the rest of the world or staying with its deeply entrenched traditional and religious existence. India is not easy in many respects—it’s hot and humid, busy and noisy, but wherever I traveled I felt safe and the people were humble. So while India may not be the ideal destination to kick back and relax it is a destination that will offer you a truly unique experience. The people of India prefer quality of life with little focus on materialism. There’s a real respect for tradition and culture. The food is fantastic and the hospitality is superb. India though deserves more than just two weeks.

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Farewell To A Gentle Titan

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