In memory of Padma Vibhushan Ratan Tata, who passed away at the age of 86.
When I heard that Ratan Tata was hospitalised and in critical condition, I thought he would somehow pull through. Age-related health issues had weakened him over the years, and he was very frail towards the end, but he was always a fighter, bouncing back when his condition worsened.
Throughout his life, Tata showed this indomitable, fighting spirit – whether it was standing firm against powerful unions when he took charge of Tata Steel, taking on his organisation’s entrenched satraps who resisted change, or battling fiercely to acquire Corus by outbidding rivals, securing the largest overseas acquisition by an Indian company at the time. His tenacity was again evident during the bitter legal tussle with Cyrus Mistry, where he ultimately emerged victorious. He fought these battles with grace and a steely resolve, emerging stronger each time, which is why the news of his passing away at age 86 came as a shock and much sooner than expected.
It’s hard to imagine the world without his enduring presence – a man whose resilience, vision and compassionate leadership shaped not only Tata Group but also the very landscape of Indian industry.
He led Tata Group from 1991 to 2012, a critical period in India’s history as the country opened up to the world after decades of economic isolation. Rather than seeking the ‘Bombay Club’ protectionist approach against the tidal wave of multinational companies eager to tap into India’s vast market, Tata embraced competition. He not only took on foreign rivals within India but also expanded aggressively overseas. Under his visionary leadership, the coffee-to-cars conglomerate grew from a domestic industry leader into a global powerhouse, acquiring iconic brands such as Jaguar Land Rover (JLR), Corus and Tetley Tea.
Indica inspiration
In his long and illustrious career, Padma Vibhushan Ratan Tata has been awarded, feted and globally recognised for all his achievements that took the Tata Group to stellar heights during his illustrious 21-year career as chairman, and it’s hard to zero in on the one thing he did that was the biggest game changer of all.
But if I had to pick what Tata’s greatest achievement was, it’s got to be the Indica. This was his first baby, which catapulted Tata Motors into the mainstream passenger car arena. The humble hatchback was his biggest gamble because if it had failed, Tata Motors probably would have stuck to making just trucks.
I was privy to a crucial decision that Tata made – one which was pivotal to the Indica’s success. It truly demonstrated what a visionary he was. Chatting with me in his fourth-floor office at Bombay House one afternoon, he opened an old envelope and showed me a picture of a sad-looking hatchback. “What’s this?” I asked. “It’s the Indica that ERC designed,” he replied, amused with my utter shock at the in-house design attempt, which looked like a box on wheels. For a company that was only used to designing trucks, no one could expect better. Least of all, the chairman himself.
Tata was quick to realise that India just didn’t have the talent to design a ground-breaking car, and in what was a gutsy and audacious move at the time, he tore up sketches his R&D team had penned and entrusted the entire design and styling to I.DE.A, an Italian firm known for world-class designs, such as the Lancia Delta.
In the mid-1990s, the auto industry had just been unshackled from three decades of isolation, and no one, except Tata, had the vision to go abroad to seek the best expertise. And it wasn’t cheap. I.DE.A’s bill was Rs 72 crore – an astronomical sum just to design and develop a car for production. But how it paid off!
When the Indica was finally unveiled at the 1998 Delhi Auto Expo, it completely stole the show with its stunning looks. In fact, the styling was half the battle won and contributed in no small measure to its phenomenal success despite all the hiccups and quality issues along the way. The Indica rocked the global industry, and Fiat in particular, whose much-vaunted ‘world car’, the Palio hatchback, due for launch in India a year later, was totally upstaged when both cars made their global debut at the 1998 Geneva International Motor Show. The Palio was a direct rival to the Indica and had similar proportions. And that wasn’t surprising because the Palio, too, had been designed by I.DE.A.
Paolo Cantarella, the CEO of Fiat at the time, saw red and sacked I.DE.A, accusing the Italian firm of copying the Palio concept. He even took I.DE.A to court. After legal issues and losing Fiat, its biggest client, I.DE.A was on the verge of shutting down. That’s when Ratan Tata’s compassion shone through. He threw a lifeline to I.DE.A’s key team members, who, in effect, became a design division for Tata via a separate company called Trilix, in which Tata Motors eventually bought an 80 percent stake. This wasn’t just an act of charity but a shrewd move as it evoked undying loyalty from the former I.DE.A team, and some of the best design work came from Trilix, including the radical Tata Nano, which was designed by Justyn Norek, the firm’s lead designer. In fact, the last time I spoke to Mr Tata was a few weeks ago to inform him of the passing of Norek, with whom he had worked very closely during the Nano’s designing.
Design and styling are possibly among Tata’s biggest legacies at Tata Motors. A qualified architect, Tata had an amazing aesthetic sense, which, till today, defines the design and shape of every Tata car. The ‘less is more’ approach – a simplicity of form and a classy appeal – is what defines Tata cars, which are still the gold standard when it comes to design among the mass-market players. And Tata cars under his tenure were always the most spacious in their class. The Nano, too, was designed with the brief accommodating four six-footers. Why? Because Tata was a six-footer, too.
The pursuit of perfection
For all his successes, there were disappointments, too. He lamented the lack of quality in the early years. In an interview at the Geneva show in 1998, he said very succinctly, “Quality does not come only with machines and investments; we have to overcome attitudes and mindsets; those are the challenges.” Just before retiring, he told me that a disappointment was not setting the quality bar at Tata Motors up there with global players and shared what Rajiv Dube, the outgoing president of the passenger cars division, told him just before he left: “Tata Motors is a truck company with a passenger car business bolted on to it.” I got a sense that those words obsessed him; it hit the nail on the head that the company’s culture, rooted in a truck-maker’s ethos, didn’t have what was needed to deliver flawless products. Tata Motors has come a long way from there, with quality several notches better than before, but reliability has always been a moving target for it.
The Nano was Tata’s biggest disappointment. His dream of giving millions of people their first car remained just that. You couldn’t fault the purity of the concept: to give safe and affordable transport to a family that otherwise couldn’t afford anything more than a two-wheeler. The Nano had a troubled start, from a last-minute plant relocation from Singur to Sanand and a spate of fires that dented confidence in the car. But what Tata failed to read was the aspirations of car buyers, who didn’t want to be seen in something labelled as the world’s cheapest car. Nevertheless, the Nano did inspire other global automakers to make their own low-cost cars, and Carlos Ghosn, the then boss of Renault, admitted that the revolutionary Kwid “was inspired by the Nano”. Tata’s disappointment was that no one in the company took ownership of the Nano nor championed it but saw it as a drain on the bottom line, which, quite frankly, it was.
Over the years, there have been enough instances of Tata’s extraordinary vision and uncanny gut feeling, which have taken Tata Motors to another level. JLR’s acquisition is possibly the best example. Tata instantly saw the potential in a rich product pipeline Ford had spent billions on developing before giving it away on a platter. He gave JLR the freedom to grow and thrive under his watch, and the company has had its fair share of ups and downs. Still, it’s the biggest jewel in Tata Motors’ crown.
The man and his machines
Driven by his passion for cars, Tata devoted much of his time and energy to Tata Motors, which he single-handedly transformed from a maker of trucks to a full-fledged global automobile company. That’s not surprising because he was an out-and-out ‘car guy’. His collection is an eclectic mix: a Ferrari California, an R129 Mercedes 500 SL, a Cadillac XLR, a 1960s Lincoln town car superbly restored by JLR design boss Gerry McGovern’s team and, of course, lots of Jaguars and Land Rovers. His gleaming collection, tucked away in a basement, is pampered to look nothing less than showroom-fresh. Each car has its own bespoke cover made of a special material that won’t scratch paint and keep moisture out. Since his cars are sparingly used, trickle chargers keep the batteries topped up. Tata had stopped driving for many years, and I am not sure what’s happened to his collection, but I am certain that he has kept up the routine of having someone give each of his babies a weekend spin.
Riding with Tata in his Ferrari California one rainy Sunday in August 2009 was an experience I won’t forget. He politely requested me to bring the floor mats from my car. The California had its own floor mats, but for Tata, even those were too good to soil with my wet feet! He blipped the throttle to hear the wonderful growl from the V8 motor and indulged in short bursts of acceleration down Marine Drive, grinning with a child-like glee. What struck me was how completely at ease Tata was in the California, merrily playing with all the settings on the complex steering wheel and shuffling through menus on the infotainment system. After flying planes and helicopters, the cockpit of a Ferrari must seem fairly simple! This was a man who loved technology and absorbed it like a sponge. I could talk about engines, ride and handling, interior packaging or any facet of a car with ease.
Most loved industrialist
My lasting memories of Tata are those that define the man, like the time at his last Geneva International Motor Show as chairman when he was being hounded for pictures but made it a point to oblige the housekeeping lady who kept the Tata stall clean for many years. Or the time of our last interview with him as the chairman, when the cameras were set up outside his house at the end of a private lane. He bristled at the tripod placed in the middle of the road. “What if a car comes; your camera will be blocking it,” he muttered, worried about the off chance someone might want to drive past. His first instinct was not to inconvenience others. What a striking contrast to other powerful people who inconvenience entire neighbourhoods! And that was the greatness of the man. He didn’t enjoy hobnobbing with the rich and powerful but was most comfortable with ordinary people. Whether it was showing kindness to staff or looking after stray dogs, Ratan Tata’s humility and thoughtfulness set him apart. Unlike many powerful figures, he never sought to impose but always sought to care, and that was the true measure of his greatness. That’s why he is India’s most loved industrialist, the good guy you always wanted to win. Godspeed, my friend! The world is a darker, poorer place without you.
