He is one of Delhi’s most in demand socialites, Indian television’s all purpose commentator, newspaper columnist and sometimes film and television actor. So what does Suhel Seth do for
a living?

Suhel Seth, CEO of Counselage, the Delhi-based hot-to-trot brand and marketing consultancy, but more widely known as the all-purpose TV talking head, newspaper columnist and sometime film and theatre actor, is sitting on a towering leather chair behind a vast desk cluttered with papers, books, invites, dossiers and still more invites in the study of his sprawling residence in Maharani Bagh, one of New Delhi’s more forcefully upscale localities. He is wearing khaki shorts and a voluminous navy blue T-shirt. His massive head—what his friends call his ‘Roman Head’—is tousled and curly with great waves of grey and white hair that’s more bed than salon.
He has a smile on his face that’s pure Jack Nicholson in Kubrick’s The Shining-it’s a smile that beams out a violently happy Morse code-‘Life is Good.’ The study is walled with shelves thick with books; there’s Phillip Roth, Jonathan Dimbleby, diet programmes, Sidney Sheldon, Tolkien, Gibbon, The Best Business Stories of The Year, and Machiavelli mingling with pictures of Seth with personages-some royal, others not, still others resolutely in-along with photos of his nephews. More gilt-edged, raised lettered invites stand out manfully in front of the books.
Suhel Seth is now, certifiably, Delhi’s (some say the country’s) most invited-out man. Variously, he will be seen at an embassy dinner, cigar in hand, being buttonholed by both the ex-National Security Advisor and then the current one, a media magnate’s do where he will chin wag with Sonia Gandhi at length, a splashy, giggly dance party thrown by an heiress (“Oh Suhel!” girls in cocktail dresses will shriek,” You’re so mean!”), another cheerful soiree at the tropical style poolside of a leading business family where a cabinet minister and he will takeover the band and croon, a high-powered cocktail at the Baker-Lutyens bungalow of a glittering UPA politician (the champagne is said to be sponsored here but that’s another story). In between, there were will be nearly fourteen trips to Europe in a space of a few months, some to the United States, absolutely countless domestic trips, board meetings, advisory board meetings, play practice, TV appearances, lectures, a Clinton Global Initiative event in New York, gala Broadway matinees to attend, off Westend performances to see and parties and parties.
The parties, however, he insists, are coming to an end; he hasn’t touched a drink in four months, nor has he puffed on a cigarette. He is, in his brother Swapan’s words, a success which comes from the perfect marriage of talent and opportunity. He also says, with some regret, that Seth has now been Delhi-ised. That is, the sweet/aggressive Cal Boy has now become Big Delhi Cheese.
The more appealing aspects of Suhel Seth’s personality—the intellect, the debating abilities, the crackling network, the awesome energy, the process to think rationally, strategically and innovatively—bear a strong Calcutta DNA. This is a Calcutta where you equate success with achievement and not money he says, and where, by all accounts, he led a most curios regimen underlined by three things-theatre, debating and the British Council. After hours from school (La Martinier) and college (Jadavpur University, English Honours and an MA in International Relations), he would rush to the British Council for three hours and stick his head into Shakespeare videos watching Derek Jacobi or Laurence Olivier recite the greatest from Strattford-upon-Avon. He would then read everything from the London Times to The Spectator and the New Statesman to return home, eat en famille at 8 pm, and be in bed in the Land of Nod an hour later.
On Saturday, he would go to New Market to buy vegetables—something he apparently still enjoys doing. On Sunday, he’d go to that marvellously haw-haw Raj pile, the Tollygunge Club and watch the outdoor movie and munch a snack. In other words, the sort of life every upper middle class youth might lead in any city except that they never do, and very few end up for hours at the BC soaking in Jacobi and cracking up over Waugh, Barnard and Taki in The Spectator. This, remember is a magazine that does not acknowledge popular culture, veers towards the review of opera productions and coined the phrase ‘young fogeys’. This young fogey set out then doing plays (Bhutto by IS Johar) acting in bit parts in Mrinal Sen’s movies and always then, and always now, seeking out the company of older people in Calcutta—be it Russi Modi or Krishna Kumar—for their gravitas, experience and their ability to impart more to a younger person.
At the mention of Calcutta, Seth gets dewy eyed. “No city on earth can make you as humble and impervious as Cal can,” he says,” it prepares you for everything.” What it probably did not prepare him for was a rapid rise through the Ogilvy&Mather ranks (Rs 650 per month starting) in client servicing and straight to a position where, even now baffled ex-colleagues say, there was nowhere he could go except leave. He left for ITC Financial Services, being thrown into a scenario that was more Borgia and less corporate. To the day, Seth rues his stint at what he calls his first brush with corporate corruption—‘a cesspool of politics and dirt overseen by one ghastly man.’ He does name the man, saying he cares a ‘monkeys toss’ if quoted—for the sake of prudence, lets just say his name rhymes with ‘Ugh’. Baptised by fire, as it were, Seth then did a stint with Peregrine Capital, living that particular 80’s, big shouldered life in Mumbai with a racy crowd lead by Francis Pike and his wife India Jane, sister of Jemima Khan. In 1995, he chucked it all up and kick started the advertising agency Equus with his brother Swapan. The move to the north, and the Delhi-ised Seth were now shimmering on the horizon.
Before the bachelor Seth, however, was the married man. Sandhya Narain and he married in 1989—she had played his daughter in Bhutto and they had, what he calls, a ‘proper wedding.’ They were madly in love and for a time, it worked well. Over time, as couples sometimes do, they drifted apart meeting more often in airport lounges across the country rather than at home. He speaks of her with great fondness and some regret. His current status is single, copiously straight (“I’m not gay!” he booms) and to use a cliché’, ready to mingle. He says he leads an ‘interesting life’ in the nookie department and with uncharacteristic modesty, leaves it at that.
The move to Delhi for Seth was measured and terrifically successful; he started from a neat townhouse in Uday Park, and as his career blossomed like a hothouse flower, he moved (in rank obsessed Delhi) to Friends Colony, and now to Maharani Bagh. More importantly, professionally it has been a spectacular ride. At every level, the friends and acquaintance has grown by leaps and bounds. He insists he never does business with friends but makes friends out of clients; the examples of Max’s Analjit Singh, Vijay Mallya, Arun Jaitley and Tata Steel’s B Muthuraman attest to this. The late Shunu Sen is spoken by him in the most glowing, reverential terms. His clients are a jewel box collection of wonderful corporate baubles—the Taj Group, Coca Cola. American Express, Vodafone among others, and now, he’s just made it to the international board of British Airways.
He has also broken into, like only a very diligent player can, the very inner circles of the Establishment and, in fact, this is the very establishment to which he often cocks a snook. Counselage, his consultancy that focuses on corporate reputation, branding and marketing, is his very own baby—something he does alone after he hung up his bootstraps from Equus. He admits he’s not a great team player and prefers being a loner, telling clients the hard truth sans bullshit. This is not difficult to believe; his close friend, Pavan Verma, the bureaucrat and author says,” Sometimes his confidence spills into arrogance. But scratch the surface and you get someone whose sincere, methodical, has massive reservoirs of energy and with all the apparent chaos, is actually all there. And he’s a superb draughtsman as well!” On energy levels, Seth freely admits to being able to sleep for just four hours, bouncing up in the morning, reading 7 newspapers and then hitting the office.
His brother Swapan, to whom he remains very close, says that in ‘intellectually innocent’ Delhi, Seth is known to lash out at, well, the less intellectually inclined. He speaks his mind forcefully—as many a tearful hostess will agree—and then hugs the person who he has cheerfully insulted. Says Max Chairman, Analjit Singh,” I really like his candour and straight forwardness. He also has the knack of serving his customers by picking the best in international practises. His ability to feel the pulse of things through his network, intelligence and habit of being very well read—is also very appealing.” Singh also speaks of Seth’s abilities as a friend, insisting firmly I quote him without translating from Hindi, so as to capture the exact flavour, that he is, in fact, ‘a yaron ka yaar.’
Seth debunks all accusations of being arrogant and stepping on people. “Yes, I am ambitious. I set my goals and go for them. If something comes in the way, I’ll shift the battle ground. Every human being has an aspirational chart, and the path that my chart follows does not compete with the advertising agencies of the world nor with the McKinseys. There’s no chance of stepping on anyone.” That said, Seth on a roll, a bad roll that is, is not someone you necessarily want to or need to encounter. The Delhi-ised Seth that his brother refers to is probably a coy reference to the bullish aggression he sometimes slips into.
It’s 8.30 pm at Seth’s residence and time for a power dinner. Despite the fact that it’s early by Delhi standards, guests are streaming in, like Khushwant Singh he insists people arrive on time. Outside, next to the limos dropping off guests, there’s a red van with a dish antenna as Seth is to come on live on the national news—a room has been prepared for the TV crew to set up. Seth’s parents, who have recently shifted from Kolkatta into his residence at his insistence, will join the party. In an hour the living room and gardens are churning with Shekhar Gupta, Shobhana and Shyam Bhartia, Jitender Prasad, Mala Singh, Jyotiraditya and Priyaraje Scindia, Sunil and Naina Mittal, Romi Chopra, Arun Jaitley, Shahnawaz Hussain, Vijay Amritraj, Parmeshwar Godrej, Rajdeep Sardesai, Sagarika Ghose(climbing into the study through a window near the garden), Francis Wacziarg, Aman Nath, Priya Paul, Sammy Modi, Pawan Munjal, MJ Akbar, Suman Dubey, Shirin Paul and several foreign correspondents. It’s an eclectic, electric group chattering late into the night, dancing impromptu—disco churns from speakers, everyone shouting out requests. Several guests have kicked off their shoes, literally, while others have taken over from the band outside. Seth is sitting in a corner on a plump, cream sofa, deep in conversation with a curvy woman in a black chiffon sari with tiny crystals on it, glinting madly, smiling his Nicholson smile. It’s just another Suhel Seth evening.

Go to TOP