A New Heart, An Old Purpose: Ramesh Bhutada’s American journey

Lalit K Jha

Houston, October 8 (5WH): On a December morning in Houston, 75-year-old Ramesh Bhutada waited in a hospital room, tethered to monitors, watching his heart fade.

The doctors had told him there were only two choices now — a mechanical pump or a transplant. He prayed quietly. Then, one day, a call came: a young man had died, and his heart was a perfect fit.

“I was the only person where they could fit that heart, being a thin person,” Bhutada recalled. “The boy was young. I met his parents later. I’m still in touch with them.”

That new heart — transplanted in 2021 at Memorial Hermann Hospital — beats inside a man who has spent a lifetime defying odds: an engineer from a lower-middle-class Indian family who arrived in America in 1968 with borrowed money, walked to work during a recession, built a manufacturing empire, survived chronic illness for decades, and became one of the most visible Indian American community leaders in Texas.

“I’ve gone through many ups and downs,” he said. “But every phase of life has taught me something.”

From Pilani to Houston

Bhutada grew up in India in a modest household, studied at the Birla Institute of Technology and Science (BITS Pilani), and dreamed of graduate studies in the United States.

“I felt I should go for a master’s,” he said. “But being lower middle class, it was not easy.”

In 1968, a letter of support and a small bank guarantee helped him secure a loan. “There was no student loan program then,” he remembered. “Someone who had a bank account — managing director — had to guarantee it.”

He arrived in America that May, short on cash but long on faith. He took a bus from the airport, suitcase in hand, and reported to class within hours.

Those early years were lean. “There was a recession in the engineering industry in 1970,” he said. “We used to walk to work.” He paid off his loan dollar by dollar.

Even in hardship, he clung to one rule taught by a mentor: “You are not a job seeker. That should be your goal.”

Losing money, finding meaning

By the late 1970s, he and his friends began experimenting with small ventures — first in computer systems, then in colour design, and later in specialized equipment. “We didn’t have appreciation for science and colours,” he said with a laugh. “We were the wrong people for that business.”

The ventures failed. “We ran out of money, about $8 million,” he said. “We closed it down, but paid our bills. No bankruptcy. We took over the loans into a sister company and paid them off.”

What came next was Star Pipe Products, founded in Houston to manufacture and distribute iron pipe fittings. “The first 10 to 12 years were coffee-and-pepper-bill years,” he said — a homespun shorthand for operating on fumes.

He thought often about quitting. Then, one evening, he opened a copy of the Organiser and found a short essay on purpose.

“It said: whatever God has given you — your talent, your resources — use it to the fullest extent legally. Keep what you need for your loved ones. The rest belongs to society,” he recalled. “That article changed my direction.”

He decided that Star Pipe would be run not just for profit but for growth — financial, emotional, and spiritual.

The stewardship creed

Bhutada’s office today is filled with quiet reminders of that creed: framed family photos, images of Hindu deities, and a small brass plaque that reads Consensus.

“We take every important decision by consensus,” he said. “Until we all agree, we don’t go ahead.”

He describes Star Pipe as a workplace that “should be a platform for overall personal growth,” not merely a source of income. “It’s not only financial growth but also emotional and spiritual growth,” he said. “I myself feel that I am quite a changed person compared to what I was.”

Private equity firms have approached him to buy the company. He refused. “Otherwise, what’s the purpose?” he asked. “The purpose of any organization is to build a group and have a purpose.”

That sense of stewardship runs deep. “You don’t become the instruments of money,” he often tells younger executives. “You use money as an instrument.”

Decades of illness, a quiet faith

Even as the company expanded, his health collapsed. At 35, he was struck by severe chronic fatigue syndrome. “The doctors tried everything — acupuncture, medicines. Nothing worked,” he said.

For 35 years, he endured exhaustion so intense he sometimes struggled to stand. Then a yoga therapist suggested mantra therapy. “After it went, it never came back,” he said. “But by then, my heart had become very weak.”

A bypass surgery was performed in 2008, followed by four stents. “Still, the problem didn’t get resolved,” he said. “The heart had become too weak.”

When doctors finally recommended a transplant, he braced himself for rejection. “Normally, after 70, they don’t do it,” he said. But his surgeon made an exception.

Three months later came the call. “That heart fit only me,” he said softly. “Grace of God.”

Today, he credits his survival to “family, staff, friends — and God’s hand.”

A businessman’s view of India

Bhutada’s factories now operate mainly in India. He moved manufacturing from China in 2020, citing rising costs and a desire to strengthen the Indian industry.

“The only manufacturing that’ll come back to the U.S. is highly automated,” he said. “Labour costs are too high. You don’t get labour. That’s the real problem.”

He believes India’s potential long outstrips China’s, but poor leadership squandered it. “India had everything more than what China had — education, English, civilized society, accounting, justice system,” he said. “But we had very mediocre leadership.”

He blames the early decades of independence for embedding “artificial concepts” such as socialism and a version of secularism detached from India’s civilizational ethos. “By being a predominantly Hindu country, secularism is in our blood,” he said. “We don’t belong to a fundamentalist religion.”

Now, he sees a shift. “People were ashamed to call themselves Hindus until about 2000,” he said. “Now we are regaining awareness of our heritage.”

Faith, controversy, and conviction

For Bhutada, much of that pride is expressed through his lifelong association with the Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh (RSS), the volunteer organization that underpins India’s ruling Bharatiya Janata Party. Critics in the U.S. accuse the group of promoting exclusionary politics.

“What I am today as an individual is mainly because of Sangh,” he said. “It’s a character-building organization. It gives you values, discipline, and the idea that you don’t live for yourself alone — you live for others too.”

He has faced backlash. “I was called a murderer, accused of wanting to murder Muslims in Sugar Land,” he said, referring to a false allegation during a local campaign. “All these have no base in fact. People are not exposed to the proper knowledge.”

His defence is measured but firm: “When you belong to a certain dharma, you should have pride in it. Not arrogance, but pride.”

Lessons on leadership

When the talk turns to India’s political evolution, Bhutada’s tone sharpens. India needs good leadership. It was severely lacking,” he said. “We had families without qualifications running the country.”

He credits India’s present leadership for reviving infrastructure and dignity. “People have now become aspirational,” he said. “There is a feeling we can move forward.”

He points to India’s COVID-19 vaccination drive as an example of scale and efficiency: “It was delivered to the last man. A remarkable achievement.”

However, he also believes that a nation’s progress cannot be measured solely by GDP. “You have to provide food, housing, water,” he said. “It’s a matter of shame that we didn’t have that for so long.”

Beyond capitalism

Having lived inside capitalism, he questions its premise. “I believe capitalism is not designed for people to lead a happy life,” he said. “Money has importance only up to a point — until it takes care of your needs. Being happy and being rich are not synonymous.”

What matters, he insists, is harmony — within families, workplaces, societies. “Hinduism alone can teach the world to live in harmony,” he said. “Not superiority — harmony.”

He hopes to leave behind not just a company but institutions that nurture that ethos. “By 2030, we hope to have 50 campus houses for students,” he said. “It will take time and resources, but it will happen.”

The circle closes

When Bhutada returned home from the hospital after his transplant, his family and longtime employees gathered quietly. He smiled — frail, but determined to work again.

“The biggest challenge in life is acceptance,” he said later. “Whatever comes in front of you, you try your best. After that, you accept.”

He paused, then added, almost as a prayer: “You should be a better person tomorrow than you were yesterday.”

In that moment, the journey that began with a telegram in 1968 — and nearly ended more than once — came full circle—a new heart beating inside an old purpose.

This story is originally from 5WH.

(5WH/VK)