Like most redemption stories, that of Christian Fabre or Swami Pranavananda Brahmendra Avadhuta has elements of a conventional life rendered awry by the fates, tragedy, dissolution, suffering and hardship, then the climb back into sanity and, finally, enlightenment.

In India, where redemption stories are sold on most street-corners by the dozen, that doesn't distinguish Fabre.

What does is the fact that he is a CEO, ferried around in a luxurious Skoda Octavia when he is in Chennai. And what does is the fact that for 15 days out of 25, the CEO discards the flowing orange robes that he wears to work, retreats to his ashram in Namakkal district in south-west Tamil Nadu from where he keeps in touch through the internet.

Work

Thirty-two years ago, Fabre, now 61, was sent to India to buy leather by his company that was based in south-west France. That was 1971, the year India and Pakistan went to war over the creation of Bangladesh, not exactly the best time for a Frenchman, his young wife, and child to try and get used to India. Fabre was based in Periamet, Chennai's leather centre.

The borough, which stretches over four square kilometres houses around 50,000 leather companies today, the bulk of them export-oriented and the majority owned by people belonging to the Muslim community. "Today, you find a lot of sophistication in these families (and the way they do business), but that was not the case in those days," recollects Fabre, who spent his early days haggling with traders over endless cups of coffee.

The work was hard, as was life and three years into his stint in India, his wife left him. Traumatised, Fabre threw himself into work but the government of India banned the export of semi-finished leather from the country. His company recalled him to France but Fabre decided to stay on. By then he was smoking 60 cigarettes a day and drinking whisky, lots of it. And he was starving.

A chance encounter with an Indian garment exporter gave Fabre a new lease of life. Back in France, his family had been into garment design and he put his skills to good use designing garments, maintaining quality, and sourcing fabrics.

Road to spirituality: The Swami in his ashram in the Kolli Hills in south-west Tamil Nadu; when he's of a mind to, he just takes off into the surrounding forests to meditate.

This was the late 1970s and Fabre's very presence was a selling point with overseas customers. But nine years later, he split with the associate and was back to where he began. "I was in a bad shape all over again," says Fabre.

A former colleague, A. Jayapalan took him in and in 1983 the duo started the company that is now Fashions International. The office was the verandah of Jayapalan's house; a rickety table, some near-retirement cane chairs, a typewriter and a phone constituted the office furniture; and the duo had no money.

Fabre's mother in France-she is in her nineties and still alive; the Swami visits her twice a year during his business trips to the country-chipped in as did his brothers who magnanimously waived their share of the family inheritance. A few others signed on with Fabre and Jayapalan; the first order came from Lee Cooper International; and another followed six months later from Liberto.

Messrs Jayapalan and Fabre were so thrilled that they took the entire team to France on holiday-while there, they nabbed some more orders.

Today, Fashions International earns around $50 million (Rs 230 crore) by way of commission and design charges, sources products for some 30 companies from 38 factories in Chennai and eight in Tirupur, and employs 60 people. And the spirit of the first French holiday still lives: Fabre has taken all his employees (except his secretary and the cleaner) to France; and everyone gets a share of the profit apart from a monthly salary.

The Swami doesn't believe in debt: Fashions International's new office at Eekattuthangal near Guindy, a Chennai suburb, was constructed at a cost of Rs 3.7 crore, all generated from internal accruals. And the Swami has his Skoda driven by a man who doubles up as his personal assistant at the ashram.

Life

Fabre's spiritual journey began with a Brahmin neighbour of Jayapalan who introduced him to the works of Ramakrishna Paramahamsa.

Then came bhajans and a little later, the works of Paul Brunton, a British philosopher and mystic who had travelled extensively in India. "I did not realise until then that I was in a heap of gold that was India," says Fabre who rapidly moved on to Ashtanga Yoga.

After eight years of instruction his guru took him to visit Sarveswara Swamigal, an ascetic who had lost his limbs to leprosy. The Swami's cheerful countenance and demanour inspired Fabre.

Then came the ashram in Kolli Hills-Fabre has now acquired some 36 acres here under the name of a trust-and years of penance. His guru insisted he keep his day job. "That appealed to me," says Fabre. "I am not inclined to beg for a living." And good businessman that he is, the trust is focussed on bettering the lives of the tribals who are his neighbours in the hills.

The Swami grows coffee, pepper and vanilla on the hills, and takes care of the education and health of the tribals apart from providing them with a source of livelihood. "Unfortunately, coffee prices have collapsed," he rues. So, he is trying to pack and brand the produce.

His nudity is a function of him being Avadhuta (Sanskrit for one who is devoid of all attachments). "I am not the body," he says, ehcoing the words of countless seers who have come before him But he's a dashed good businessman.

With time, the Swami hopes to spend just five days in Chennai and the rest in the ashram (he's now open to receiving visitors and followers with whom he will share his vision of Shiva and even maintains a website aumnamahshivaya.org). That will only have to wait till the tribals start exporting their produce and Fashions International becomes less dependant on him.

It's already happening, says the Swami with a beatific smile. "Good management, after all, is all about delegation," he laughs.