You miss 100% of the shots you don't take

This isn't a bright spark story, though it might well be. Instead, this is me reminiscing about a chance encounter from many years ago - another life-changing experience. It is about a man who came into my life; rather, he was drawn into the sphere of my life because I willed it.

When we first started, I constantly envisioned a scenario that would slingshot our business to the top. It was my daily affirmation. We were the scrappy newbies. While startups today are admired and respected, in our time, even a simple request to collaborate with one of the big boys would invite ridicule and scorn. Thinking big was out of the question. So this affirmation became my secret mantra. And I willed the universe into making it happen.

At the time, our company Airpac Exports, was a year old with less than US$ 100,000 in revenue. We were working on a project in Jordan in the winter of 1997. I'd flown in to visit the client and staying at a hotel close to the project site. I was in my hotel room when the Reception staff called to let me know one Mohtaz Ashour wanted to meet me.

I had no idea who this was, but I was young, hungry and foolish (all good things), so I went down. Pleasantries over with, he told me he'd gotten my name from the Indian Embassy. I knew that wasn't true but let him carry on. The war in Iraq had ended and he had a massive opportunity that involved rebuilding Iraqi industry. Mohtaz had no idea where the money would come from. "We will cross the bridge when we come to it", he said. This was before Oil for Food program had been implemented. There was some chatter about the UN allowing the sale of oil for essentials, but it was all very vague. He handed me the tender - all 200 printed A4 pages.

It seemed unreal. I didn't know this guy. I was young and hungry, but not that foolish. I asked him again, "if we are to work together, you must tell me who referred us to you". He hesitated. "The Embassy", he said again. I knew this wasn't true and told him why - when I'd visited the Embassy earlier, I'd been sent on a wild goose chase to the oil fields to meet with oil officers for advice on how to set up my office in the country. The Embassy had no clue who we were, let alone we existed. I had to know who recommended us because I didn't want to be on the wrong side of this story. This was two decades ago when the instinct was to jump at every opportunity.?But then, as is the case now, we were fierce about not doing anything wrong, not knowing this was what compliance was all about. We were concerned if the project complied with international law.

I pressed him - tell me. He mentioned the name of a secretary in a pharma company we had interacted with. It seemed reasonable. To this day, I do not know if it was true or not. The only reason I agreed to pitch was that there was potential of UN approval.

Then he felled me with his next bombshell - we had six days to submit our offer. It was impossible. I told him all the reasons we couldn't make the deadline. He then told me something I haven't forgotten. Give it a shot, he said. What do you have to lose?

This was the universe responding to my affirmation in sky-high block letters. As soon as Mohtaz left, I called Hemant?euphoric, cautious?and more than a little panicked. I told him this was a once in a lifetime thing, and I had a good feeling about it. The only challenge was time.

Hemant said only two words: "tu bhej".

Now to figure out the logistics of sending over 200 printed pages to Hemant. Email was a complicated new doodah at the time. Connectivity was awful. I sat at the Receptionist's desk and painstakingly faxed over all 200 pages. It only took all day, several misfires and endless cups of tea.

Hemant and Mel, my incredible assistant, got to work - I can only imagine all the hours they put into this - and when they were done, they shipped our offer that weighed over 50 kgs to Mohtaz. It had everything - tablets, capsules, injectables, inhalers, syrup, tablet machines, capsule fillers. The total value of the offer was US$ 82 million.

Hemant and I were in a daze. Could this really be happening? We both believed. And we both waited.

A month later, I was back home by then, Mohtaz called. "Salam ya akhi, (brother) we've got it." We'd won a bid to the value of US$ 21 million. In my head, I was doing cartwheels as I calmly asked Mohtaz who bagged the rest. Firms from Spain and Italy; we were the only Indian company. How were they going to pay? Oil.

OIL!? What the heck did we know of oil. We didn't even have cars at the time. Mohtaz heard me out and said, "Come over, we need to sign".

I put my worries aside. This was the opportunity I had been willing into existence. This would propel us to the stars, the experience of a lifetime.

I flew in with the POA and handed it to Mohtaz. Three days later, he returned with the signed contract.

I went to Oman, Dubai and KSA, consulted Dr El Raie, our mentor and client. I had to figure out how to sell the oil that we would be paid with. I spent months understanding the legalese and the compliances. I learnt a LOT about the oil business in those six months. At the end of it, one thing was clear - it was near impossible. It broke my heart to tell Mohtaz we couldn't do it. He said he was glad we'd tried. A week later, he called, "will you accept corn as payment instead?" I was stumped! We're a pharma tech company; how do we get into the corn business? Another friend and supporter, Dr Abdul Nasser, had made heavy losses in a similar exchange of medicines for corn. Nevertheless, I sought Dr El Raie's advice again before I turned Mohtaz down.

I was happy for the experience, even if nothing came of it. At the very least, we were now experienced?at putting together offers for multi-million dollar projects.

About five months later, the UN announced the Oil for Food program. We received the exact same tender, this time from an Indian source and a Jordanian. Ours was the first company they contacted from India, courtesy of our old bid with Mohtaz. We were ready with an offer. But Mohtaz was untraceable.

As our name was pre-registered due to our first bid, two companies contacted us to partner on this offer - one from India and the other from Jordan. After evaluating all the pros and cons we went with the Jordanians.

We sought offers from the big machinery manufacturers in India who thought this was an excellent opportunity to take control of the project "because we didn't know what we were doing". This was our baby, and there was no way we were letting it go. So instead, we sought quotes from smaller but equally capable, ambitious machinery manufacturers as hungry as we were for this opportunity of a lifetime.

A month later we had won projects valued at US$ 11 million. It was our reality. A US$ 250,000 company with a US$ 11 million deal. I still marvel at our chutzpah. And I marvel at how our collective positivity manifested itself.

Everything thing that came after - from the approval process to the security challenges, to winning more projects, to how much we had to lobby everyone concerned, including the UN, to actually get them moving is a story for another day. I might even write a book on everything Hemant and I learned during those unbelievable years where we learnt that impossible is what?

I'm not telling you this story to promote The Secret - though it's a great book. Manifesting my aspirational reality wasn't a lesson I ever needed to learn. Instead, I'm telling you this story, so you move beyond the pithy quotes that inspire and get to the actual believing. And doing.

When you want something with all of your being, the universe conspires to give it to you.

Since the beginning of this year, I've been documenting my gratitude for all the people who have impacted my life. I would be remiss if my fleeting interaction with Mohtaz wasn't one of them. Wherever you are, old friend, you are thought of often, and with all the blessings my heart can hold.