A few weeks ago, I was flying back to Delhi on a late evening flight. Usually, I use this time to catch up on sleep, but this one was a bumpy ride, and as a nervous flyer, I decided to distract myself by staring at my phone.
It was pointless; I had no internet, couldn’t scroll social media, couldn’t reply to emails, and couldn’t text. There’s not a lot you can do when you’re in a metal tube hurtling through the air, travelling at great speed, but time, somehow, seems to slow down. Anxious and bored, I started scrolling through my contacts and came across a name: Srikrishnan Product Guy.
I looked at the name and smiled to myself. My friend, Srikrishnan Product Guy, had come a long way since I christened him that and saved his number on my phone.
It is a glitch in my brain; I tend to remember people by what I think they’re good at. So, for instance, my colleagues are saved as Naveen Goa Guy, Shubhendu Community Builder, and Pallav Connector.
On that bumpy plane ride, I started to reminisce about the time when I first met Srikrishnan Ganesan.
If this were a film, we would be the sound of rewinding tape; the width of the screen would narrow; the colours would be sepia-toned, and you would see a younger version of me and baby-faced Sri. If you have trouble imagining it, here is a visual aid.
When Sri first started volunteering, he had just left Freshworks after a lucrative exit. He was a sharp, rising star in the SaaS ecosystem, and I decided to invite him to our Nandi Hills retreat.
He met us dressed very casually, in a black T-shirt, jeans, and sneakers. He carried with him no airs; he walked with us, smiling more than he was talking. Whenever someone asked him a question, he would pause, smile and answer. But I sensed a restlessness in him. His mind was racing, and he was making a lot of effort to stay still and present.
Later in the day, he would open up to me. He wasn’t done starting up; many founders, after a lucrative exit, either become consultants helping others build their own paths or start up soon after. Sri was very much in the second camp. He was clear about what he wanted to build; he knew how he would reach his customers, and he also had a name: Rocket. That name would eventually evolve into Rocketlane. And he would transform himself from the unassuming founder on that hike to a successful entrepreneur who is now a reference point for many young people.
But on that day, he showed me versions of himself that he has since shielded from most people around him. He had clarity about what he wanted to do: build a startup and, when that journey ends, pursue music.
He spoke about his admiration for his grandfather, a violinist, and his dream to honour him by learning the violin, a very difficult instrument in the Carnatic tradition. It was not a dream I was accustomed to, but Sri has always been someone who liked colouring outside the lines.
It shows in every part of Rocketlane, from the copy on the website to the use of hip-hop in ads to familiarise people with the company. There are imprints of Sri’s attention to detail everywhere.
As Rocketlane grew, Sri moved base from India to the Bay Area. And I believe he found a networker in himself that always existed but needed a nudge. When AIBoomi hosted a Bay Area Founders Retreat, Sri was there, keeping the group alive. He would try to organise coffee-and-drinks meetings even after the retreat to keep those connections active. His generosity with time and resources is unique, and I deeply value it.
But Sri is so much more than a founder. He is genuinely interested in other people’s journeys. At events, I see him mingling with founders and operators alike. I’ve overheard conversations where he asks people what they’re doing and then tries to unpack how their industry works. The idea is to learn about people rather than gather business intelligence. When people go into excruciating detail, I’ve caught him listening carefully and replying meaningfully. People often half-listen to these conversations, but with Sri, he is locked in; his powers of concentration are Arjun-like. When he focuses, he can only see the eye of the fish. His kindness and soft-spoken nature are endearing. And so far, Sri always turns red-faced when people praise him.
During the Bay Area retreat, I sheepishly admitted to him that I had saved his name as “Product Guy”. He laughed and blushed. “Avi, I am more the strategist, the business person than the ‘product guy’.”
Not to me, Sri. Not to me.
