V Lakshman’s story begins with a word: house, which he spelt correctly. It was during admission to an English-medium school, something the teacher opposed because Lakshman had completed his kindergarten in Kannada. But his unlettered mother didn’t give up. She asked the teacher to test her children’s English skills, and thus begins the journey of the seasoned media and public relations professional, told gently in his memoir, Unshackled: Reminiscences of a Wandering Soul.
The book details Lakshman’s life as a public relations professional, particularly his days at ESCOM, a power utility undertaking, and the sheer volume of work involved in maintaining relationships with the media, bureaucrats, consumers, and colleagues. But behind this career trajectory, the book also offers a slice of life, a mix of humour, nostalgia, and lessons learned along the way. In every story Lakshman tells, there is a reflection and re-evaluation of the incidents that occurred, and of how life, even when it unfolds in unexpected ways, is often dictated by fate.
Lakshman joined his company in Mangalore and spent much of his life in desolate small towns and villages, where sprawling forests, darkness, and a handful of colleagues were his only company. “Coming from a bustling city [Bangalore], this solitude was a rude awakening,” he writes, recalling his stay at a ghostly KPTCL guest house in Maroli, where snakes sometimes slithered into rooms.
Yet, Lakshman reflects on these experiences as a student of life, often with gratitude. This reflective tone sharpens with personal loss. When his close friend Somnath dies in a road accident, Lakshman is devastated, thinking about the importance of small acts of kindness—Somnath had just helped him contain a difficult situation at work—but the “demands of [Lakshman’s] role did not allow [him] the luxury of a long mourning period.”
Much of Lakshman’s emotional anchor during this time was Kaleem Basha, his roommate and close friend, who worked on a contractual basis at the company. Kaleem, “a rare blend of honesty, humility, and resilience,” offered both companionship and comfort. He cooked well, and their evenings were spent “listening to the distant rhythms of Tala Maddale, the music of the rituals.” Their bond emerges as one of the book’s most vivid and tender portraits.
The memoir also opens a window into the lives of those working within a power utility—from petty behaviour and hierarchical politics to the human quirks of bureaucrats, politicians, and union leaders. We meet Rama Subba, a minor clerk with limited official authority but substantial influence; Vigneshwar Bhat, an accomplished company secretary; and Srikanta, Lakshman’s driver, whose working style raised suspicion. There is also Sidde Gowda, remembered for his easy-going humour, whose later suicide left Lakshman confused. Even Lakshman’s company-issued Maruti Omni becomes a character of sorts, surviving journeys where “each trip was a gamble, and every safe return demanded gratitude to the lucky stars.” It proves its mettle when Lakshman encounters Naxal insurgents while travelling from Shimoga to Mangalore.
Told with poignancy and quiet humour, the book dismantles the notion that public relations is merely about issuing press releases. Instead, it reveals a profession steeped in crisis management, image-building, creative problem-solving, and an intimate understanding of an organisation’s many moving parts. Through his professional life, Lakshman crafts a deeply personal narrative. The unfamiliar landscapes and isolated villages lend an eerie quality to the memoir, with solitude hovering persistently over the pages. The illustrations that accompany each chapter further enrich this atmosphere. As Lakshman writes, “Perhaps, in these stories, you will see a glimpse of your own trials and triumphs, and maybe even the unseen hand that shapes them all.”