That Ratan Tata’s long-awaited biography, austerely titled Ratan Tata: A Life and penned by retired bureaucrat Thomas Mathew, appeared within days of his death, could have been fortuitous. The death sent people across the world scurrying to find out more about, arguably, one of the most recognised Indians. But there’s a cloud hanging over the book: Tata had not approved the manuscript of what was to be an “authorised biography” and it was consequently published as an “independent work” by HarperCollins though Mathew had wide and unparalleled access to Tata’s papers and correspondence.
From what we know of him, it would most likely have been the reverential, hagiographical tone that offended him. That’s not so much the author’s fault as of the environment in this country where powerful businessmen can never be criticised or questioned. Rare is the tycoon who will allow a critical assessment of his legacy. Hagiographies, rather than honest biographies, then are the order of the day.
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Ratan Tata wasn’t one of those tycoons. He needs no defence unlike say, an Elon Musk, whose biography by Walter Issacson provoked reviewer Gary Shteyngart in The Guardian to question “Who or what is to blame for Elon Musk”. Instances abound of Tata’s refusal to take credit, his innate generosity and his deep sense of empathy for others, none more so than his behaviour during and after the 26/11 attacks on the Taj Hotel in Mumbai. Indeed, if there is one line in the book hardly anyone will contest, though many would phrase it better, it is this: “Within the country, perhaps, no business leader has been as popular and adulated as him.”
But Tata actively shunned canonisation. Which makes the job of a biographer, particularly one who had the privilege of spending dozens of hours with the man, more difficult. How to temper the fanboy within after such a meeting? The dilemma shows. Mathew’s book is at its best in the sections related to Tata’s early life, little of which is in the public domain. That includes the divorce of his parents when he was a child, an event that may have left permanent scars on all four siblings—Ratan, his brother Jimmy and his two half-sisters Deanna and Shireen, none of whom married. We learn of his daredevilry at college in Cornell where he would take friends on a spin in his Piper Tri-Pacer aircraft, and kill the engines mid-flight letting the plane drop sharply for a bit before pulling up. Also teased out, quite lovingly, is his relationship with Carolyn Emmons, the first of the four loves of his life who he nearly married.
All this is great colour but it does little to further our understanding of the massive decisions that shaped the house of Tata after he took over as chairman in 1991. A 22-year-long stretch as chairman of India’s most important conglomerate calls for a granular dissection of the key moments of his tenure such as why the group’s airline plans were repeatedly thwarted.
Equally important is the how—which is missing from this account. That he dealt with one of the Tata group’s worst ever strikes, at TELCO in 1988 just after he was appointed as the company’s chairman, is well chronicled. What isn’t so well known is how he successfully tamed the adamant Telco Kamgar Sanghatana (TKS) and its fiery leader Rajan Nair. Surely, regular press briefings and letters to employees couldn’t have been all that Tata did to resolve the crisis.
Vast sections of the book read like a series of corporate brochures listing Tata’s achievements with each of the major companies of the group. All of them, bar TCS, follow the same pattern; to wit, a company badly run under the previous incumbent and eventually rescued and returned to profitability by Tata. In most cases, that conclusion isn’t inaccurate but to ascribe the incredible growth of Tata Motors to “Ratan spending more time managing its affairs than some other group companies”, as the book suggests, is a bit thick.
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Poor editing creates further dissonance while reading: Unfamiliar names are suddenly sprung on the reader who is then expected to do their own research on who these people are. There is no bibliography, no footnotes, not even the names of publications that have been liberally quoted throughout the book, a disservice to the publications and an irritant for the reader.
Compounding this is the mysterious double standards of naming international publications like Financial Times, Wall Street Journal, Forbes, Economist and Asiaweek, but not according the same courtesy to Indian publications, which are dismissed mostly as “one national daily”, “a news channel” or “a car magazine”. This isn’t just a serious omission; it is confusing as well.
Paraphrasing and summarising an opinion piece or a news report into one line gives neither context nor conclusion. Thus, on the group executive council (GEC) constituted by Cyrus Mistry—comprising N.S. Rajan, Mukund Rajan, Madhu Kannan, Harish Bhat and Nirmalya Kumar—and their relationship with the veterans of the group companies, the author quotes a line from what he calls a leading news magazine: “the management of these giant companies ‘often saw little reason to take advice from a group of people who had little practical experience of running companies’”. That’s just 25 words pulled from a 4,500-word story (India Today, 7 November 2016), which also stated that “The abrupt way in which the chairman was unseated by the board—hidden under the agenda of ‘any other business’—did not reflect well on the Tatas who have always built themselves up on doing things the proper way.”
Similarly, on the many Nano cars that caught fire, we are told that “An Israeli investigative agency examined this from the angle of sabotage but could not conclude if it was deliberately done”. If Tata Motors hired an “Israeli investigative agency”, details and precision—the soul of a business biography as crucial as this—were needed.
The author comes close to providing both fresh content and clarity in chapters dealing with the failure of the Nano and the Jaguar Land Rover (JLR) deal. The controversial issue of Cyrus Mistry’s abrupt ascent and unseemly exit, is also explained quite meticulously with details of the meetings that took place on the sidelines of the extraordinary general body meeting where Mistry was asked to step down. Candidly, Tata accepts his own culpability, telling the author that “Mistry’s British education had blinded him”.
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The Ratan Tata that emerges from this book is a deeply private individual who had very few friends, if you don’t count his dogs Tito and Tango. He accepted the greatness that was virtually thrust upon him as neither a challenge nor a curse but as a job that had to be done to the best of his abilities. That he delivered remarkable results is a testimony to his ability to keep things simple.
In a television interview following the death of Tata, Mukund Rajan recounted that before he joined the group as brand custodian in 1994 he asked Tata whether, given his background of a master’s and a doctorate in political science and none in business administration, he would be a good fit for the group. Tata told him that to succeed in the corporate world all you need is good common sense.
Such reminiscences and introspection might have made this book a real treasure trove. Sadly, unnecessary reverence, slipshod editing and at least 200 pages too many have conspired to create an imperfect biography.
Sundeep Khanna is a business columnist and author of business books.
Also read: 7 books on Ratan Tata and the group he led
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