Back in the early 2000s, when I was the Channel Manager for Sify Astrology, my job was to bring the best Vedic astrologers of India onto a common platform and sell their services online. On paper, it sounded easy. In practice, it was a nightmare.
I met many brilliant astrologers, but most of them didn’t know English, couldn’t type predictions, or had no clue how to use a computer. I had no choice but to keep them off the panel—not because of lack of skill in astrology, but because of their limitations in technology. My first choice got diluted.
So, my second option was to find astrologers who at least knew how to type in English and operate a computer. But my company, run by IIM-bred MBAs, had a different philosophy: “Take 100 astrologers, display 1000 services, and even if each sells 10, we’ll make money.”
I disagreed. I wanted quality. They wanted quantity.
Since I knew a bit of astrology myself, I tested every astrologer before bringing them onboard. To my dismay, 99.99% failed. And these were not unknowns—these were regulars on TV, featured in newspapers, writing bestsellers. One even wrote to my CEO R Ramaraj complaining about me, but I still refused to take him in.
Out of nearly 100 famous astrologers, I handpicked 10 extraordinary ones over 3 years. Business flourished. Yet the MBA team wasn’t satisfied. They wanted big names, noise, and ads. I resisted.
Among my 10 astrologers, 9 did really well. But one man—a brilliant medical astrologer—hardly got any orders. Offline, he had clients in the US and UAE. For me personally, he had given stunningly accurate predictions. Yet online, nothing worked. I promoted him everywhere, even on the homepage, but he barely got one order in six months.
I was baffled. Until one day, my MBA VP summoned me.
“Do you know why this particular astrologer isn’t getting business?” he asked.
“No clue,” I replied.
“Which Indian will trust a Vedic astrologer whose name is Miranda Joseph? Change his name to Pandit MJ or something, and you’ll see miracles.”
Holy cow! A nirvana moment.
I spoke to Miranda Joseph about it, but he flatly refused: “I don’t want to make money in adharmic ways.” That answer only made me respect him more.
Meanwhile, the MBA team flooded the panel with Tom, Dick, and Harry. I quit in 2004. By 2005, Sify Astrology shut down.
PS:
I know it’s not right to speak ill of the dead, but among the “famous astrologers” I had refused to take on board were Bejan Daruwalla and math-genius-turned-astrologer Shakuntala Devi.