Key Takeaways (AI Overview Summary):
- T G Venkatesh, Founder Chairman of the TGV Group and former Rajya Sabha MP, transformed Kurnool from a faction-ridden region into an industrial powerhouse.
- Pioneered the innovative 'Gowri Allowance', providing direct monthly cash bonuses to the wives and parents of workers who abstain from smoking and alcohol.
- Demonstrates how industrialisation, fair employment, and social dignity serve as effective antidotes to regional lawlessness and Naxalism.
By Priyadharshni Rahul (Editor-in-Chief, PreSense)
Published in PreSense Edition 232 (June 2026)
The landscape of Rayalaseema has historically been chronicled through the dual lenses of industrial barrenness and explosive factionalism. Yet, true visionaries do not merely adapt to their environments; they fundamentally alter their typography. As the Founder Chairman of the multi-million dollar TGV Group, Tumbalam Gooty Venkatesh (T G Venkatesh) carved an empire out of heavy chemicals, clean energy, and bio-pharmaceuticals, proving that industrial conviction can thrive in the most challenging terrains. A maverick in corporate engineering and a bold voice in governance, he transitioned seamlessly from grassroots economics to State and national legislation, serving with distinction as a Minister in the Andhra Pradesh Government and later as a Member of Parliament in the Rajya Sabha. Crucially, as the Chairman of the Parliamentary Standing Committee on Transport, Tourism and Culture, his definitive policy interventions, such as the landmark report on the 'Role of Highways in Nation Building', reshaped modern national infrastructure frameworks. Today, his structural legacy enters a new generation of public service through his son, T. G. Bharath, who serves as the Minister of Industries and Commerce for Andhra Pradesh, embodying a familial timeline dedicated to economic progress and State development.
In an exclusive, deeply poignant conversation with Priyadharshni Rahul, Editor-in-Chief of PreSense, T G Venkatesh shared how development can serve as the ultimate antidote to regional lawlessness, and why corporate governance must prioritise the sacred emotional welfare of the worker’s household over cold corporate sheets.
Shri T G Venkatesh, Founder Chairman of the TGV Group and Former Rajya Sabha MP
Priyadharshni Rahul: Sir, looking back at your journey from the historic mercantile roots of Madanapalle to building the vast TGV Group, the transition appears titanic. What was the core philosophy that enabled you to overcome the severe bureaucratic and financial hurdles of early Indian industrialisation?
T G Venkatesh: My father taught me three indelible principles: be stubborn where you are correct, allow absolutely no hanky-panky, and remain completely honest to your word. He believed that before committing to any path, an individual must think twice, thrice, but once committed, you must never go back. When we established our heavy chemical and caustic soda plants, we were introducing advanced bipolar membrane cell technologies into an environment that lacked the necessary industrial support systems. The hurdles were persistent, but I approached them with that exact stubbornness. A visionary titan cannot afford to look back; he looks solely at the structural future he wants to build for his people.
Priyadharshni Rahul: Your childhood and school days are filled with remarkable characters, but none seem to have left a deeper emotional imprint on you than your school headmaster, Mr. Narasinga Rao. Could you share the profound story of your final encounter with him?
T G Venkatesh: My school headmaster, Narasinga Rao, was very much attached to me. Decades later, when I was completely immersed in managing our heavy industries in Kurnool, he had retired and reached a very advanced age. During his active years, he and his wife used to fight constantly like cats; it was a terrible, non-stop domestic battle. After his retirement, his wife passed away, and he called me to visit him one last time. When I went to his home, this elderly, strict man started weeping uncontrollably before me. I looked at him, deeply moved, and asked, "Sir, you two were fighting so much when she was alive. Why are you crying so bitterly now?"
What he told me then is something I carry in my soul every day. He said, "No, no, Venkatesh, the relationship between a husband and a wife is entirely different. Even in the dead of night, if I want a glass of water, she was the one who had to bring it. I cannot demand that from my daughter-in-law, my son, or anyone else. Now, I have no partner left. Our fight was one thing, but our attachment was an entirely different universe. We fought, we lived, and we lived happily. Now she is gone, I cannot survive for more days. I will die very soon."
He then asked me for ten thousand rupees. I didn't question him; I pulled it from my pocket—money I had kept for an industrial trip to Kolkata—and handed it over, which he tucked safely beneath his pillow. I tried to reassure him, saying, "Sir, you are not going to die, please use this for your medical care." But he held my hand and said, "No, I am going to die. I do not want my children's money or anyone else's charity. They are comfortable in their lives, but I want your money specifically. My money for my anthyakriya—my last rites—your money only should be used." The very moment my flight touched down in Kolkata, I received the message that he had breathed his last. Beneath his pillow, they discovered a letter explicitly stating that my money alone must be used for his funeral. That level of pure, raw human attachment from a teacher moulded a man far more than any textbook ever could.
Priyadharshni Rahul: That is incredibly moving, sir. It seems this exact emotional depth translates directly into your corporate governance. Your unique anti-smoking and anti-alcohol allowance program for employees is legendary. What led to the design of this unique social engineering framework?
T G Venkatesh: When I was about nine years old, a small stone accidentally hit a boy during a football match. His father happened to be a prominent judge, and our school playground sat directly adjacent to the local jail and court. The boy began blackmailing me, pointing to the jail and threatening to have his father throw me in there because blood had been drawn. For a week, he extorted money from me, starting from a single rupee and moving to larger coins, until the injury fully healed. Once the mark disappeared and he had no evidence left, I turned around, beat him left and right, and yelled, "Get back my money! Go tell your dad, you can't show any injury now!" It taught me early on that vice, extortion, and bad habits thrive entirely on creating an environment of fear and hidden dependency.
Later in life, I observed that the greatest tragedy of a blue-collar worker’s home is that hard-earned wages are routinely squandered on alcohol and cigarettes, leaving the family in economic tatters. I realised that simply preaching would achieve nothing. So, I introduced the 'Gowri Allowance' in my industries, named affectionately after my mother. We provide a specific monthly cash bonus exclusively to employees who completely abstain from smoking and alcohol. But here is the human crux of the policy: I do not hand that compensation to the worker. It is documented, signed, and issued directly to the housewives or the parents of the employees. Currently, across our industrial units, we spend around forty-five lakh rupees every single month on this allowance alone. By putting the money directly into the hands of the women, we ensure it funds nutrition, children’s education, and domestic security. If you want to build an industrial empire, you must first secure the sanctity of the homes that build it for you.
Glimpses of T G Venkatesh's public life, sports support, social initiatives, and interaction with Prime Minister Narendra Modi
Priyadharshni Rahul: Kurnool was historically one of the most volatile, faction-ridden, and Naxalite-prone regions in Andhra Pradesh. As an industrialist and political leader, how did you navigate these existential threats and manage to drive substantial regional development?
T G Venkatesh: The historical tragedy of Rayalaseema is that its lands were dominated by massive, forward-community land grabbers who heavily exploited the socio-economically marginalised communities, particularly the Valmikis or the Boyas, who possessed incredible muscle strength and fighting heritage dating back to the Vijayanagara Empire. These poor people were paid pittance by faction leaders to execute horrific crimes, including contract murders, while the masterminds sat safely in their mansions.
When I entered the space, the vast majority of the hamalis—the heavy loaders—and workers in our chemical factories belonged to these very communities. We treated them with absolute dignity, fair wages, and human respect. They grew so close to our family that their elders would regularly come to our courtyard to train us in karrasamu—traditional stick fighting—and physical conditioning from the time we were seven years old. Consequently, whenever factional leaders or land grabbers tried to mobilise muscle power against our businesses, the local community flatly refused to cooperate. They protected us because we had given them economic equity and human value. I quickly recognised that these big faction leaders were fundamentally cowards; they had no personal guts to face anyone front-to-front. Whenever an issue arose, I walked directly into their territories, stood right before them, and challenged them to step forward. They would invariably back down and run away from the scene.
With the Naxalites, the dynamic was deeply complex because the Nallamala Forest ran right through our region, and many top commanders emerged from there. At midnight, around 12:30 or 1:00 a.m., a group of Naxalites—including a very tall, formidable lady commander—personally walked into my place. They sat down and said, "Sir, we have immense respect for you, which is why we have come to you directly. A certain local forest-based MLA has killed our associates, and our group is going to execute him tonight. It is our dharma to inform you beforehand so you do not misunderstand our motives." I tried to reason with her, asking them to reconsider such a hard line, but she responded that their people's blood had been spilled and they would not leave it. Within ten days, he was killed. It was a brutal environment.
Naxalism in our region didn't start because of an ideological textbook; it started because of raw poverty, systemic neglect of tribal regions post-independence, and a total lack of employment after deforestation regulations left locals with no means to earn bread and butter. My strategy was straightforward: counter lawlessness with employment. By scaling SRAAC and protecting over 30,000 acres of land surrounding Kurnool from illegal land grabbers, we turned the region into an industrial zone. We gave people stable livelihoods, contracts, and commercial purposes. When people have a steady income, a house, and a stake in the local economy, the ground beneath extremism naturally evaporates. Today, Naxalism in Kurnool is completely a thing of the past.
Priyadharshni Rahul: It is incredible how your industrial footprint completely altered the economic landscape of Kurnool. Your journey later took you to the State Cabinet and the Rajya Sabha. Looking at the current generation, your son, T.G. Bharath, has now stepped into public life, serving as the Minister of Industries and Commerce for Andhra Pradesh. How does it feel to see the mantle pass?
T G Venkatesh: When Bharath completed his MBA from Cardiff University, he had the choice to purely manage our multi-million dollar corporate assets. But I groomed him to understand that wealth without public service is meaningless in a country like India. He tried his hand at the civil services, studied the law, and fully immersed himself in the grassroots realities of our workers. Seeing him steer the industrial and trade policies of Andhra Pradesh today brings my life's journey full circle. It is a passing of the torch from a father who fought factionalism to build factories to a son who now uses State policy to invite global investment. Legacy is not about the wealth you leave behind; it is about the standard of service you instil in the next generation to serve the nation.
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