As Ratan Tata has passed on, many commentators have attempted to reveal what his ‘true nature’ was. This is done mainly through narrating his bold moves in business and entrepreneurship, or recalling instances that are personal in nature. All of these are valid. It is, however, important to remember that these are individual vignettes. The reader assembles them into a mental collage. This collage does not represent the ‘true person.’ Arguably, no one can know what the ‘true person’ is, including the person concerned!
During my 15 years of working with Tata on the fourth floor of Bombay House, I noted that he was a bold leader who did not look patently bold. My mental image of a bold person may have been shaped, perhaps, by movie stars like John Wayne, Clint Eastwood, Amjad Khan, or Amrish Puri. They may talk big, may be loud, may possess a swagger, and may make impressive claims. Tata was none of these. Yet, he was a bold person. This is evidenced by his enterprise moves — acquiring public sector units like VSNL and CMC, international companies like Corus and Tata Steel, and entering high-risk businesses like defence and aerospace. There are softer and less visible ways in which a person demonstrates he or she is bold.
The first example is that of recruiting ‘non-lifers’ at a late stage of their career. Would they fit into the Tata culture? Would they be able to add value by carrying along long-serving Tata teams? There is, obviously, a potential reward for the organisation but also a risk. Tata recruited Kishor Chaukar, Ravi Kant, Homi Khusrokhan, Prasad Menon, V Sumantran, and me at the board level. With hindsight, we can say that most of his bold leadership bets worked out alright. However, they were risky, for sure.
My second example is his decision to move the Nano factory — lock, stock, and barrel — from Singur to Sanand. Several thousand crores of rupees had already been incurred at Singur. Contractors and workers were milling about the place. Of course, there were political disturbances surrounding the factory as well, and this is what made him reconsider the original decision. Sanand transpired as an option some days and weeks later.
At the time of announcing the move, there was no clarity on the destination. Back then it may well have seemed a blind bet. The boldness only becomes apparent in hindsight. Bold leaders do the right thing at the right time, without any plan or intent to demonstrate boldness.
My third example is about the pricing of the Tata Consultancy Services’ (TCS) initial public offering (IPO). The then CEO S Ramadorai has written about his deep experiences in his book The TCS Story. It was 2002-04. India was just learning to understand capitalism after liberalisation in the early 1990s. Equity markets had suffered shocks from the Harshad Mehta scam in the 1990s, and the Ketan Parekh scam in the 2000s. Stock markets were seen by Plain Joe savers as highly risky, perhaps a bit like how today’s investors regard crypto markets. How should Tata price the IPO? It was then the biggest IPO in India. Merchant bankers were scrambling to get the stock the highest price. Estimates moved up smartly to the ₹850-900 range and markets were being tested for a further climb. At a meeting, Tata asked how high can the company go. “Are we leaving something on the table for retail investors who bought into the IPO partly due to trust in the Tata name? Will we price such that the post-IPO price moves up and creates confidence in the investor?” he posed.
That was a bold and value-based statement, not coming from a winner-takes-all base. In the event, Tata ‘left some money on the table’ and completed what was then India’s most successful and largest IPO. There may be a lesson in this for the more capitalistic India Inc of today!
I should close with a light-hearted, though unrelated, episode. Around 2005, an enthusiastic senior director of Tata Sons, Dr JJ Bhabha, quietly commissioned an oil painting of Tata and had the peon hang it in the stately boardroom, next to those of Jamsetji and JRD Tata. It was intended to be a surprise for Tata. When Tata strode into the boardroom and noticed the painting on the wood-panelled wall, he became incensed. In his Parsi Hindi, he summoned the terror-stricken peon and thundered, quite unlike the Ratan Tata we all knew, “Kaun bola lagane ko? Mein jab mar jaoonga, tab lagana. Nikalo isko, jaldi se.” I hope that lovely painting will now adorn the space it was intended for.
(The writer is a former executive director, Tata Sons)