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The curse and cure of “doing too much”: how multipotentiality built India’s power revolution

Staying in one lane felt like voluntary blindness. Circuits, factories, patents, dealers, solar — one interconnected circuit.

Part of the Founder’s Story →

For as long as I can remember, people have told me to pick a lane.

In standard corporate orthodoxy, the playbook is rigid: hire a specialist for every silo, stay inside your air-conditioned executive cabin, and let each department run its course. If you are the founder, you are supposed to look at financial dashboards, attend board meetings, and leave the circuit boards to R&D, the brick-and-mortar plants to civil contractors, and the marketing to an external agency.

I could never work that way. Not because I wanted to micromanage, but because my brain simply doesn't recognize those artificial walls.

To a restless, multipotentialite mind, an enterprise is not a collection of fragmented departments. It is a single, interconnected circuit. When I looked at an inverter, I didn't see an isolated piece of electronics. I saw the chemical fumes of the battery, the hum of the ceiling fan, the heat of the factory floor, the architectural flow of the assembly line, the skeptical face of a rural distributor in Haryana, and the aesthetic decor of a family’s living room.

When you see all those connections at once, "staying in your lane" feels like voluntary blindness.

Throughout my years building Su-Kam, I was constantly told I was working on too many things at once—designing circuits, laying out automated factory floors, drafting patent claims, training sales teams, and scripting dealer conventions. As I shared in my reflection on 106 Patents and the Restless Mind, those outputs were never a planned corporate PR strategy—they were the empirical footprints of a high-velocity mind trying to survive its own speed.

Looking back across dozens of industry firsts, 77 patents filed during that era, six manufacturing facilities raised across India, and our pioneering solar revolution, I know one truth with complete certainty: those breakthroughs never would have happened if I had forced myself to specialize.

Hardware firsts born from sensory friction

Corporate R&D departments usually innovate through committees, quarterly budgets, and incremental competitive benchmarks. That process produces products that are 5% cheaper or 3% smaller.

For a gifted adult, invention rarely starts with a market analysis. It starts with sensory friction—an intense, almost physical intolerance for bad design, wasted energy, and crude compromises.

In the late 1990s, the Indian power backup market was an unorganized grey-market mess. The standard inverter was a heavy, sharp-edged black sheet-metal trunk tucked under a staircase or out on a balcony. It hummed aggressively, dripped corrosive acid fumes, and whenever the mains power failed, the switchover was slow enough to reboot your desktop computer and wipe out whatever document you were drafting.

The entire industry accepted this. “The lights came back on, didn’t they? What more do you want?”

To me, that compromise was intolerable. Why should a family have an industrial hazard under the stairs? Why should anyone have to endure the grinding hum of a fan running on crude square waves?

Because I wasn’t an engineer bounded by textbook dogmas, I approached the system from first principles:

None of these were born in a boardroom. They came from hands-on tinkering on the workbench, testing circuit topologies at 2:00 AM, and refusing to settle for what the market called "standard."

The solar leap: pioneering categories before policy existed

By the mid-2000s, Su-Kam had fundamentally reshaped the Indian inverter market. Most business advisors told me: “You've won the category. Consolidate, protect your margins, and enjoy the profits.”

To a multipotentialite mind, that advice is suffocating. Once a problem is solved, your brain naturally searches for the next foundational friction. In my case, looking at inverters charging from a coal-heavy, unreliable grid sparked an obvious question: Why are we waiting for a failing grid to charge our batteries when India receives 300 days of intense sunlight?

Back then, solar energy in India was dismissed as an expensive, unviable vanity project reserved for research satellites and government labs. There was no National Solar Mission, no subsidies, and no net-metering framework.

I didn't wait for government policy to catch up. I treated solar not as a distant luxury, but as an immediate consumer appliance, as recounted in How Kunwer Sachdev Made Solar Affordable for India:

These category creations earned me the title “The Solar Man of India” from India Today, archived under Recognition & Awards and The Solar Man of India Archive.

Taking solar to the frontlines: from rural huts to high-altitude borders

Innovation in a lab is meaningless unless the hardware survives the harshest terrain on earth. When we rolled out our solar division, I didn't stay behind a desk reading progress reports—I went into the field:

World-class R&D: putting the lab on top of the factory

Many companies treat R&D as an academic showroom—an isolated corporate office where engineers write theoretical whitepapers and build delicate prototypes that can never be mass-produced.

I wanted an R&D engine that lived in the real world.

When we built our primary Gurgaon campus, the layout was deliberate: R&D upstairs, high-volume production on the ground floor.

There were no ivory towers. If an R&D engineer designed a PCB that was awkward to solder, or if a trace was too thin for the heat of an Indian summer, they didn't learn about it six months later in a customer complaint report. They walked down the stairs and watched the factory workers struggle with it on the line.

We earned formal recognition from the Department of Scientific and Industrial Research (DSIR), Government of India, but the real benchmark was global. As I discussed on the global stage in our WIPO Interview on R&D and Intellectual Property and recounted in WIPO Interview: Honor of Indian Innovation and IP, we made IP creation an intrinsic part of factory-floor culture—which I broke down further in How Su-Kam Came to File 77 Patents and How Losing One Case Made Me India's Biggest Patent Filer.

We subjected our products to the harshest environmental extremes—and engineered them to meet stringent international CE and UL standards. That was how an indigenous Indian power electronics brand was able to export to over 90 countries worldwide, a milestone captured in Chapter 10: The Brand That Travelled into 90 Countries.

“Not bought. Built.” Twelve years of industrial manufacturing

A brilliant schematic means nothing if your manufacturing is sloppy.

I did not inherit a family campus. I did not buy an empty turnkey factory and slap a logo on the gate. For twelve years of my prime, I took raw industrial plots and built afresh—as chronicled in Su-Kam Factories: Gurgaon to Baddi Industrial Build:

When international delegations from Swissnex (Switzerland) or researchers from the National Institute of Solar Energy (NISE) visited, they weren't walked through slide decks in a hotel. They walked the factory floors.

Bringing the factory to the customer: marketing and dealer culture

If my restless mind had stopped at factories and patents, Su-Kam would have been an efficient manufacturing vendor. But the commercial disconnect irritated me just as much as a poorly wound transformer.

Inverters were sold like spare tractor parts. I wanted an FMCG-style household brand—discussed in the podcast Journey Towards Becoming a Household Name and profiled in Powerline Magazine:

The truth about multipotentialite boredom

There is a psychological reality to this kind of operating style that traditional business books never explain.

When you possess high cognitive velocity and multipotentiality, stability feels like suffocation.

The moment an engineering challenge is resolved, the assembly line is humming smoothly, and the marketing playbook is standardized, the cognitive stimulation evaporates. The administrative maintenance of a settled enterprise—routine meetings, bureaucratic sign-offs, repetitive governance—triggers acute "boreout."

As I shared when detailing my entrepreneurial path on Josh Talks Hindi, for years I wondered why I couldn't just sit in my office and enjoy a profitable quarter. That same restless engine is what The Idea Never Stops and The Speed of Thought name from the inside.

It took me decades to understand that this restlessness was not a lack of discipline. It was the natural engine of the multipotentialite mind:

  1. First-principles mastery is fast: Once you break down a domain—plastic injection molding, transformer acoustics, patent law, or dealer psychology—the learning curve flattens rapidly.
  2. Maintenance creates apathy: Being forced into repetitive operational oversight drains energy far more aggressively than 16-hour days of creative problem-solving ever could.
  3. Cross-pollination creates categories: Breakthroughs happen when you smash unrelated worlds together. The CHIC inverter happened because plastic aesthetics collided with power electronics. Our solar dominance happened because rural dealer psychology collided with advanced microprocessor firmware.
Doing “too much” is only a liability if your ideas remain scattered in your head. Anchored to prototypes, factories, IP, and execution, it is how categories get invented.

To the builders who can't sit in one room

If you are a founder, engineer, or creator who feels trapped by conventional job descriptions—if you are criticized for caring about the factory floor, the circuit board, the marketing copy, and the legal filings all at once—stop trying to shrink yourself.

Specialists are essential for optimizing known systems. But they rarely invent new categories.

Category creation demands someone who is willing to get grease on their hands on the factory floor, spend all night at the oscilloscope in the lab, challenge architects on building designs, and walk onto a stage to inspire thousands of partners.

Doing "too much" is only a liability if your ideas remain scattered in your head. But when you anchor that restless energy to physical prototypes, world-class manufacturing, protected IP, and uncompromising execution, your refusal to stay in your lane is the exact force that changes an entire industry.

106 Patents and the Restless Mind →   I Killed My Own Best-Seller   The Idea Never Stops   The Speed of Thought   Founder's Story   All Stories

Related essays

Kunwer Sachdev, founder of Gifted Grownups
Kunwer Sachdev — the "Inverter Man" & "Solar Man" of India

From a jungle of wires on his living-room floor, Kunwer built Su-Kam into one of India's best-known inverter brands. After losing it all, he is building again with Kunwwer.ai. He discovered he was a gifted adult at 47 — the experience that led him to found Gifted Grownups and GiftedKids.in.

A note: This essay is lived experience and historical commentary. Su-Kam Power Systems is referenced for biographical context; Kunwer Sachdev founded and led Su-Kam until 2018 and is no longer associated with the company. Gifted Grownups is an independent platform and is not affiliated with Su-Kam. External links to kunwersachdev.com, solarmanofindia.com, and third-party media are citations, not endorsements of current corporate entities.

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