W hen he leaves his capacious Film City office of 18 years on November 30, tall posters of The Godfather, Reservoir Dogs, Chakra and Ardhasatya will accompany Manmohan Shetty, outgoing chairman of Adlab Films Limited, to his new but yet undisclosed destination.

Those are his prized personal possessions as is the lone non-film poster on the nearest wall. It is the inspirational poem, Desiderata, that Shetty first saw at film-maker Vidhu Vinod Chopra’s house and was so struck that he had a reprint framed. The poem, by Max Ehrmann, could provide a clue to the movie magnate’s philosophy. It opens with “Go placidly amid the noise and haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence.”

Shetty is far from placid but an air of calm comes through as he speaks, even when he plays his cards close. Due to stand down next February, his resignation last week set tongues wagging that all was not well between the Adlabs co-founder and its powerful new owners.

“There is nothing to my stepping down at this point. Actually, when Reliance came into the company in July 2005, it was an understanding, although not in writing, that I would continue for two years. That was over this July. I myself targetted February ‘08 because that is when I turn 60.”

Not that his evenings now will be spent watching the sunset from his Juhu home. “I am retiring but only to take it into the next phase of what I want to do. This is the only business I know so I will be around, even if I am moving out of here. But I won’t do things that are happening now.” It is too early, he says, to divulge his plans. “But in the next two or three months I will be ready.”

For now we start with some obvious questions. How did Anil Ambani acquire Adlabs? “The two (Ambani) brothers had just parted and the younger one was always in entertainment. Rather than inventing the wheel the best thing was to get into an existing company and who else was there to make an investment with?” says Shetty matter-of-factly. “The deal was done in one day. It happened in their office.”

Being acquired was the best way for the company to grow. “I am not sitting in a galla running a proprietary business. I am leaving very amicably. Nobody acquires a company and retains the same promoter. They could have put their own people but they did not do so. He (Ambani) has been very nice to me. That means I have also been very honest and nice,” he twinkles.

The takeover was a resounding success story for a company whose IPO in 2000 was dismissed by some analysts as too risky. Two years later another analyst was giving investors a long-term thumbs up, citing the “tremendous goodwill” that one of its main promoters, namely Shetty, had in the film industry as one of the fundamental reasons.

“It is just that people don’t mind dealing with me. If it is known your dealings are good, expansion does not become very difficult,” he shrugs.

Shetty’s rise has been like that of the Sensex in recent times. Slow, steady progress but once traction had been gained, a rapid upscale in the past decade. Adlabs started with processing ad films in 1978. By the 90s they were dealing with feature films, and later diversified into producing and exhibiting films. Shetty remains proudest of bringing the giant screen IMAX experience to India and starting a multiplex movement. Today Adlabs is both the largest film processing company and multiplex chain (107 screens) in the country.

Not bad going for an 18-year-old lad from forgotten Mulki off Mangalore who arrived in Mumbai with survival on his mind. The youngest of nine siblings, born to farmers, Shetty had followed his brother who was a lab assistant in a film processing company in the big city. Not bad going either for a college drop-out. Shetty enrolled for a B.A. in Somaiya College but left soon after — a step that would irk him when he had to enter educational qualifications in forms as a member of the Censor Board and later as chairman of the National Film Development Corporation. “Both times I felt, s***, I should have spent at least two more years in college and finished my graduation.”

Since enterprise is both talent and achievement, the lack of a degree was not about to get in his way. His opening strategy was to enter niche areas, and set standards. For instance, ad film-makers who complained of being ignored by the industry were showered attention in terms of service and quality by Shetty. “If you don’t have a lot of capital, or business acumen it’s best to get into the niche areas, else neither will you be noticed nor will you reach the top.”

There is no excess in Shetty’s unhurried manner, just as there appears to be little in his habits. He brings his vegetarian dabba to office and always has dinner, often fish, at home, even after a party. “And I never miss my drink,” he slips in, deadpan. Whisky. Every day. He smiles. A sense of humour that is indicated again, when an automated male voice suddenly chirps, “Excuse me Boss, you have a text message.” It’s his chosen cell phone alert.

Another indulgence he readily admits to is a passion for films — one of the reasons why he quit college. His current favourites are all of Sanjay Leela Bhansali films but as producer Shetty has given early films such as Ardhasatya, Aakrosh and Kabhi Haan Kabhi Naa. Recent productions include Bluffmaster, Gangaajal, Taxi No 921, Johnny Gaddar and the disastrous RGV ki Aag.

Did he see disaster coming? “You can’t stop in the middle of a film.

The results are generated only after the film is released. In most of the work I do, I don’t start and stop. Sometimes films don’t work. But in multiplexes there are no losses, just degrees of profit margins,” he says.

His goals do not stem from challenges, but from something more visceral. “I work only on my gut feel. My next project too is going to be like that,” he says, as his phone valet chimes in again. As a man who dodged a gangster bullet some years ago, and 20 days before producer director Rakesh Roshan took one from a hitman, Shetty prefers not to dwell on that part of his life. Except to say that his daily jog on the beach came to an end.

That may explain why this Mangalorean remains immune to flaunting wealth. “When my daughter says you should bring the biggest, most expensive car, I say why? I don’t want my car to be my symbol. People should know me for what I am. I don’t want a palace. I am fine where I am.” So what does he drive? A Mercedes. Of course. “But not a high-end one,” he retorts.

“When you are very young, you come to Bombay looking for survival. At that time the ambition was that you should have a car and a house before getting married. So what happens after that? You need to think about the next thing. I think that is how my life has gone,” says Shetty. What if he were to lose it all? His eyebrows soar instantly.

“That’s bad news. After working so hard for so many years to start again from zero — that is very bad. For you want somewhere to feel secure. For the family,” he says firmly.

His older daughter will be involved in his new venture. “I won’t be looking at any partners when we start, my daughter Pooja (an MBA) and I will be doing it together. It will take me three or four months to decide on the level of investment required. Then if I need partners I will take them.”

A photograph of Shetty with wife Shashi stands on the shelf behind his chair. “We have been married 31 years now. Lived happily ever after I don’t know, but lived ever after,” he jokes. “She does not interact with me about business because she thinks I am very arrogant in terms of not listening,” he says.

Whatever Shetty is cooking next, it won’t involve a holiday. “If I don’t go to office I feel I have lost something.”

All eyes are now on where that blessed new office is going to be.

Wherever it is, Reservoir Dogs and Desiderata will be sharing space.