He had his typical Parsi quirks and once when an employee hesitated at the door to ask him permission to come in, he said, "Either you come in or you go out." He was a good boss to work for, but an exacting one. He saved my ass a few times when the then managing director of Times of India, and a few other industry biggies were out to whack my misshapen behind (meaning out to get me, do not take in literal sense, pliss!). Those were hard days for me. He used to smoke continuously and being the gourmet he was, used to instruct the cook at home what he wanted for lunch and dinner and how to cook it.
Once while on our way to a meeting in Worli his car rammed into another one and I was thrown against the windscreen. I was shaken. Luckily no injuries resulted. Then whenever we would pass that spot he would remark, "John, you will have unpleasant memories of this place," and laugh his deep laugh. I met him a few times after that. But the news of his death in yesterday's paper was a shock.
Karl Mehta, Rest in Peace.