Once upon a time — in a land not so far away, known as the Open Plan Office - I was your average corporate employee. Head down, emails answered, task completed, meetings ticked off, pay checks earned. Life was in cruise control. I wasn’t reckless with money, but I wasn’t exactly curious about it either. I mean, I was earning it - and spending it - what else is there to know?
Then came a curious conversation over zoom chat with a colleague.
“Hey, I can take a look at your finances and give you some thoughts,” he said.
Now, this wasn’t a licensed financial planning consultation. No disclaimers or fee disclosures. Just two blokes, one slightly more enthusiastic than the other, talking about money.
After a few hit and misses with the location discussing about where we would do this I eventually ended up at his house one evening. I paid him $150 (don’t ask me why), had some decent home-cooked dinner, and sat through what I’d now call a motivational sales pitch disguised as financial wisdom. In between the gnocchi and roasted veggies, we chatted about life, money, and oddly — Magic cards. Apparently, he traded them. For real money. Some were worth hundreds. Who knew?
The conversation was… interesting. A mix of jargon, charisma, and empty buzzwords. As some of the financial terms were foreign to me though I have worked in financial industry. You know those people who speak a lot but say very little? That. But credit where it’s due: he gave me something that evening that changed my life far more than his dinner or a white paper activity we ever did.
A book.
The Richest Man in Babylon.
Now, let me paint the full picture here.
Up until that point, the only reading I regularly did involved:
Certification prep material,
Confluence pages,
Test Summary Reports
Project requirement documentation
And the occasional “Post mails!” flyer in the letterbox.
Reading a non-fiction book for leisure? That was as foreign to me as Magic cards.
The last “story” I remember reading was Enid Blyton’s Circus Days Again during school days - and even then, when I read the book - some of it were understood, some of it were being read - but mostly went over my head largely because I wasn’t actually present. I liked the “idea” of reading a book. I liked fantasising of being someone who enjoys reading book. But, I on the other hand mostly flipped pages, made up my own narrative, and filled in comprehension gaps with childhood imagination.
So when he handed me that book, I thought, sure, I’ll take it home… and see what happens.
What happened was this - I actually read it. This is not a simple easy to understand book - some of the words of the book was really not in my vocabulary. I kept losing interest - but I kept persevering to complete it.
Not in one sitting. Not even with full comprehension. But slowly, page by page, with equal parts confusion, scratching head and some occasional curiosity, I made my way through ancient parables on money, saving, investing, and prosperity. And somehow, amidst the Babylonian bricks and oddly formal language, one idea landed so hard that it carved itself into my brain:
“Pay yourself first. Save at least 10% of everything you earn.”
That’s it.
That one simple principle stuck. Like superglue on my financial brain.
And suddenly, I started seeing things differently. Superannuation in Australia? Ah, that’s why they do it. Saving before spending? Makes sense. Letting your money work for you instead of chasing more? What a concept.
That small book — barely over 100 pages — didn’t just teach me a lesson. It cracked open a door. After that, the books kept coming. The Barefoot Investor. Rich Dad Poor Dad. The Psychology of Money. With each one, a new layer of understanding formed. I wasn’t just reading — I was compounding. Not money (yet), but ideas. Models. Frameworks. Context.
Charlie Munger, renowned for his work as a long-time business partner of Warren Buffett, emphasizes the importance of acquiring and using "mental models" to improve thinking and decision-making. These mental models are essentially frameworks or cognitive tools that help us understand and interpret the world, enabling us to make better choices and solve problems.
It was like getting financially reborn - but with bookmarks.
What Did I Learn?
The Richest Man in Babylon is short, timeless, and deeply impactful. It’s not flashy. It doesn’t have charts, data sets, or even modern relevance. But it does one thing better than most 300-page bestsellers: it plants a seed.
And if you water it with action, reflection, and a few more books along the way - it grows. Most importantly it compounds.
So, should you read it?
Yes. Especially if:
You’ve never read a finance book before.
You want something simple and foundational.
You prefer timeless principles over technical analysis.
Don’t expect stock tips or budget templates. But do expect to come away with a sense of why managing money is not just smart - it’s necessary.
Also, timeless wisdom on irrespective of where you are in the journey of life with money - you’d have something to learn from it.
And that’s that!
I may have paid $150 for gnocchi, roasted veggies and a bit of a character understanding of the other person. But I also got a book that transformed my relationship with money. And instilled a deep habit of reading books. That’s a pretty solid return on investment, if you ask me.
If you haven’t yet picked up The Richest Man in Babylon, start there. It’s not just a book - it’s an awakening.
And if you have read it - great.
Also, be keen to hear what was your first finance or non fiction book?
Read what you love until you love to read - Naval Ravikant