Three words aptly describe Dr. Manu Chandaria, OBE, EBS—a man of many facets who resonates with people from all walks of life.

These words are reminiscent of those used to describe Tony Stark, the billionaire industrialist and technical genius whose alter ego, Ironman, is famed for his flying suits and for entertaining millions in the Marvel movie universe.

In the 2012 movie "The Avengers," Chris Rogers’ Captain America character confronts Tony Stark, asking, “Big man in a suit of armor. Take that off and what are you?”

Tony Stark’s reply is quick, off-the-cuff, and to the point:

“Billionaire, playboy, philanthropist.”

Manu Chandaria is all that and more—except for the playboy part.

He is a devoted family man who, at 96 years of age, remains close to his wife of many decades, Aruna; his daughter Priti, who is married to Kirit; son Neal and his wife Aarti; grandchildren Nahema and her husband Brooks; and his great-granddaughter Nyah.

His devotion to his wife was highlighted five years ago in an event captured by The Standard.

At a sprightly 90 years of age, the elderly industrialist turned up at the Attorney General's Chambers at Sheria House with his 85-year-old bride, Aruna, to register their marriage—after 64 years of living together as husband and wife.

In keeping with his humble nature, it was a low-key ceremony—a family affair that cost just Sh9,500, attended only by their two children and two grandchildren, who travelled from Switzerland, New York, and Singapore to witness the solemnization of the vows.

The couple first married in Mombasa under Hindu customary law and hold a marriage certificate issued on April 30, 1955, by Shree Visa Oshwal. The new ceremony was to refresh their vows and register their marriage under the Marriage Act of 2014.

Beyond family, Chandaria is a larger-than-life figure in business circles. To his friends and associates, he personifies big business and industrialization in Africa and around the world.

In business circles, he is mentioned alongside Aliko Dangote and Tony Elumelu, but his reach is far greater and his impact much more vast. He is truly a global icon.

Yet, he prefers humility over grandeur, letting his work impact society and speak for itself.

Born Manilal Premchand Chandaria on March 1, 1929, Manu—as he is known to many Kenyans, and Manubhai to his closer associates—is a Kenyan businessman of Indian descent, born and raised in Nairobi, Kenya.

Chandaria's father, an Indian merchant from Saurashtra, Gujarat, moved to Kenya in 1915 to start a provisions store along Biashara Street, catering to the colonial settlers who needed the services of a modern duka to buy essential wares.

In his memoir, launched last week, he recounts how he spent much of his youth growing up in the Ngara area of Nairobi, in a dwelling that housed three other families. When not in school, he often assisted his father in the shop, learning the art of small business early in life. Being the son of a first-generation immigrant, he quickly assimilated to Kenyan life, shedding the natural fear of the unknown.

In prior interviews, Chandaria credited his father’s business acumen for providing him with a good education, forming the firm foundation for his later expansion of the family business. In his own words:

“While I wasn’t born with a silver spoon in my mouth, there were at least spoons in the house.”

I first met Manu Chandaria in 2007, though I had often seen or heard of him in the media. At that time, I was a lowly intern at the Standard Group, having just begun my journalism career.

He was an affable and seasoned gentleman—a captain of industry who would often grace the pages of The Standard and who was always responsive to our requests for interviews on various societal challenges. We interviewed him extensively for the Business Weekly show on KTN, to the point where we started meeting almost weekly.

2007 was a time of heady flux, with the country reeling from the chaos of the early years of multipartism and clamoring for a constitutional review, and starting to enjoy the fruits and optimism of the first Kibaki presidency.

The country was high on the benefits of the first-ever economic stimulus package, which had been put in place under the first phase of Vision 2030 and served as the linchpin of the first five-year medium-term plan.

As chairman of Comcraft Group and a man with the ear of the President, Chandaria was making news for all the right reasons. He often served as a reference point for true north in the country’s attempt to draft broadband policy to drive industrialization.

At the time, he wore many hats: chairman of Mabati Rolling Mills Limited, chairman of Kaluworks, chairman of Aluminum Africa Tanzania Ltd, founding chair of the East Africa Business Council, and founding chair of the Kenya Association of Manufacturers.

He also found time to be the founding chair of the Kenya Private Sector Alliance (Kepsa), an umbrella lobby representing private sector organizations.

He has been at the helm of family companies that operate across continents in 50 different countries, involving more than 70 family members.

Despite his larger-than-life standing, Chandaria is first and foremost a gracious human being.

This virtue came to the fore one day in early 2017 when he called me, sounding very annoyed. He said he was tired of receiving calls and texts from hoaxes and conmen and wondered how they even got hold of his phone number.

He had caught me while planning my wedding. After explaining that so long as he didn’t reply or engage them, he would most likely be fine, I mentioned that I was in a meeting, and people were waiting for me.

He asked what I was doing, and I told him I would send him a text later.

I finally texted him later that evening, explaining my upcoming nuptials.

I had forgotten about the conversation when, quite close to the wedding day, I received a phone call from an assistant who explained that Chandaria, now quite old, could not attend the wedding but would send a gift: three large sufurias that still hold pride of place in my kitchen (I had mentioned in an earlier conversation that I was something of a foodie and amateur chef).

I met the gentleman again this week at the Visa Oshwal Community Centre in Westlands, Nairobi. At 96, he was there in the flesh, officiating the launch of his biography, Manu Chandaria: From Success to Significance.

He seemed older and wiser, but as ever, quite cheerful and engaging. His wife, spritely and full of boundless energy, was at his side, brushing off any attempts to assist her. And, cheeky as ever, he conspired with his children to surprise the love of his life, Aruna, with a birthday cake. It was an unforgettable moment, with not a dry eye in the auditorium as they cut the cake, and Aruna declared that she was the gift for him on that occasion.

The book itself is a way for such a storied man to own his story. Many have written about him, bringing their perspectives to his work. This book allows him to tell his story from his perspective.

His biography is a tale of his life—a tell-all book that seeks to demystify the man, his work, and his family.

Penned by renowned journalists Kwendo Opanga and Charles Wachira, it synthesizes the drive that got him to scale the echelons of the business world, distills that, and shares it with his readers. The foreword is written by former First Lady Margaret Kenyatta.

In the book, he maintains that service to others is central to his work, with his work at the Chandaria Foundation occupying a whole chapter.

He has been the benefactor of many projects, far too many to enumerate here, and has stamped his name on the hearts of many by giving selflessly.

In the opening pages, he remains steadfast that all his work has been about achieving significant impact.

He challenges others to walk his path using a quote from his address at the Wharton Global Alumni Forum in Cape Town in 2008: "This is my challenge to all of you. You are successful, but that is not enough. How can you become significant? You have an opportunity to make a difference in Africa. Think of Africa. Put Africa on your radar. Think about what you can do to improve, to create, to sustain, to transform Africa. I am sure this can be done."

It is a fitting call from a man—a giant, no, a colossus—who started from humble beginnings and has worked to transform his country, its economy, and much of the world.

For him, in this auditorium in Westlands, full of admiring people just a few meters from where he grew up in Ngara, Nairobi, life is indeed coming full circle.