Stellar Titles in Biography Series
 
Always Being Born: A Memoir - Mrinal Sen
Memoirs of a Rationalist: Vasant Sathe
The Act of Life: An Autobiography - Amrish Puri
Bonding... A Memoir - Vyjayantimala Bali
 
 

© Stellar Publishers Pvt Ltd.,2008

 
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First Published,2008
 
 
 
ISBN 978-93-82035-05-3
 
Published by Jyoti Sabharwal for
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Excellence is not a skill. It is an attitude.
Ralph Marston
  
Publisher’s Note

Nerve of Steel, Heart of Gold

Russi Mody is perpetually in love with life. And he relishes every moment
of his existence. A connoisseur to the core, he takes you around to show his
chic collection of crystals, porcelain, and silver artefacts that dot his
mansion at Belvedere in Kolkata, while priceless miniatures and Jamini
Roy canvases do the walls proud. Huge framed photographs of his dear
ones and the high and mighty keep alive his memories of an era gone by.
The countless shields, trophies, mementoes and citations make an eloquent
statement – of a glorious, checkered career. His polka-dotted pet Frisco
follows him as he cuddles Tyson, his pet Boxer. He loves his splendorous
study where he browses through the tomes, but claims, “I’m not a very
knowledgeable person. I’ve done just common things. And people don’t do
common things; they forget that we must learn from common things. I’ve
virtually made no particular extra effort, except that my actual life became a
virtue. In my actual life I behaved as a human being. It seems to have
become a virtue.”
That’s the most endearing facet of Russi’s personality – his humility.
Notwithstanding his awesome track record and renown,a rather resonant
refrain in Russi’s life has been: “I’m an extraordinarily ordinary man.”Try
using an adjective,and he would gun it down. “Call me whatever you
will,but I know what I am – an ordinary person. I’ve never excelled in any
field whatsoever; there are so many people who are much more talented
than me,yet not as lucky as I am. I attribute all my success to the Almighty
who has always been extremely generous to me. He has given me more
than I have deserved”.This warmth and paucity of pretentiousness is
certainly infectious. “I live by what I am and don’t try to be anything
different or be someone else. What I have always tried to do is to behave
naturally with others. For,I love human beings; I try to explore their minds
and share their agony and ecstasy in life. I loved to live my life,so I got
myself involved,whether it was managing corporate houses,encouraging
games and sports,playing piano,participating in social discourses,meeting
people from all walks of life,collecting artefacts,trying my hand at various
cuisines,doing the interiors at home,showing card tricks at parties,skiing at
Alps,flying planes…I could go on…”And,shake a leg on a weekend night
in a disco,he might have added. For,he still loves dancing. Here’s the
epitome of joie de vivre – he could well impart a few lessons to the young
ones on what zest for life is all about.
Of course,he’s done it all in his own inimitable style. As I and my
colleague Partha Mukherjee (whose meticulous research over these two
years made the book possible) listen to him with rapt attention,Russi’s
observant eye notices my green stilettos,and he remarks,“Smart shoes! How
do you manage these heels?”I quip saying,“Ladies’man?”He responds with
a hearty laugh,“My sense of humour has not deserted with ad-vancing
years,though my memory seems to be failing me. I see the funny side of
things immediately.”That might explain why and how Russi has remained
unaffected by that affliction of ‘arrogance’. He is so averse to the
sanctimonious that he merrily pricks them. “We all live with our frailties.
We all have flaws,and nobody is perfect. Life is never perfect. So,wit
should be a way of life.”Once a Chairman of British Steel visited him at
Tisco,and over drinks he turned to Russi and asked,“Well,what did you do
in the War,old chap?”“Fought the British”,replied Russi pronto,feigning an
accent to flaunt that he could be more Brit than the British.
As his nimble fingers waft out a nostalgic number that he plays on
piano,and poses for a shot in his favourite flaming red shirt,he can’t resist
commenting,“Oh,you won’t be able to record my music in the
photograph.”But we get to capture that familiar toothy grin. Keep smiling!
Perhaps that’s why he has those numerous cartoons of his,hanging on the
wall facing him,as he takes a seat at the office desk of Mobar India Ltd.
Drawn by an equally inimitable RK Laxman,now this booty of caricatures
belongs to Russi’s personal treasure that was once especially commissioned
for a Tisco publication,The Glimpses of a Legend,to commemorate his fifty
years of enormous contribution. He has all the admiration for Laxman’s
never-ending wit and is rather rueful about why he himself could never
doodle,draw or paint. “It occurred to me a lot but I couldn’t do it. I didn’t
have the capacity. I would have loved to be a painter,but I didn’t have the
ability.”So Russi gazes at these cheeky drawings and savours those
chuckles in moments of introspection.
The one who always proclaimed,“I’m not conceited enough to think that
anybody would be interested in my methods once my eyes are
closed,”penning his own memoir was a big no-no. He kept holding on to the
same belief that “Why anyone would be interested in me after I’m dead and
gone?”Now that there’s a somewhat shift in his stand and he doesn’t have
as serious a reservation about why his life and times should be documented
(since in his perception he hasn’t achieved anything ‘spectacular’),it’s the
right moment to ask him if he’s bitter about the battle with the Tatas.
Comes the reply sans any second thought: “It could have been handled
more gracefully on both the sides. There was a time when I did and said
things that had hurt Ratan Tata,and Ratan had said and done things which
hurt me. However,after many years of chilly relationship,I have become
friends with Ratan again. And right through my life,I have believed that
when one takes a step in one direction,it is no use crying over spilt milk.
So,therefore,as far as I’m concerned,Ratan is friendly with me now as he
was earlier. This again means that I’ve completely forgotten the past.
Whether I have been right or wrong; whether I have done something good
or bad,just be truthful.”
Attaboy! Candour has always been his high-point,and so is the decibel
level of his commanding voice,getting restless for his cup of coffee in the
office,as to why he has not been informed about the power failure that
delayed his cuppa,and his guests are kept waiting. It is said that even
Russi’s ENT specialist marvelled at the magnificent condition of his vocal
chords,and once remarked,“Placido Domingo would exchange his Ferrari
for a slice of yours.”
A perfect gentleman,a sharp analyst,for whom fair play is of great
import,has he played his cards fairly and squarely? “You win some,you lose
some. But in life,you must adhere to certain standards. No matter how the
pace of life changes,you must never lose sight of those standards. Then
you’ll have no regrets.”At ninety,what if he had to live his life all over
again? “I would have no complaints”,is Russi’s parting shot. His philosophy
seems to echo the words of Jonathan Kozol: “Pick battles big enough to
matter,small enough to win.”And at the end of it all,‘just stay human’!
Jyoti Sabharwal
 
 
Acknowledgement
 

Thanks to Ananda Bazar Patrika Pvt. Ltd., for lending access to its
archives.

Priyanka Mukherjee for editorial assistance.

Jishnu Pratap Ray, former Executive Assistant to Russi Mody.

Ashok Tomar,Media Advisor,Mobar India Ltd.

Above all,Russi Mody,for being his affable self.

 
 

Contents
 
Publisher’s Note
 
Acknowledgement
 
I Roots
II Baptism By Fire
III Ruffled Feathers
IV Never-Say-Die
V A Chortling Connoisseur
 
Annexuress
 
  

I
ROOTS
 
“Bigger the man, bigger the losses…”, states Russi Mody in his stentorian
tone, when you sceptically question him about why Napoleon Bonaparte
became his favourite character in history, and motivated him to the extent of
working as a guiding spirit in his life? “So what if some of his strategies
went bust? How can anybody live a life where everything succeeds?
Napoleon was a man of action. I hate to listen to theories only and not work
on them. People make mistakes. Who doesn’t? To do nothing is the worst
mistake and that is what we are suffering from today.”
Russi attended classes twice or so a year at Christ Church College in
Oxford, for jiving away at local night clubs seemed far more alluring than
burying his nose in books. He was no bibliophile at this exciting age.
Getting serious about studies was definitely not on Russi’s academic
agenda, but when it came to anything pertaining to Napoleon, this man
could surely outwit you with his passionate knowledge: Pierre Augereau,
Jean-Baptiste Bernadotte, Louis Berthier, Guillaume Brune, Louis Davout,
Emmanuel Grouchy, Francois Kellerman, Jean Lannes, Francois Lefebvre,
Jacques MacDonald, Auguste Marmont, Claude Victor, etc, etc…he would
baffle his batch mates by memorising these names of Napoleon’s generals
who fought alongside le petit caporal in many a war. And Russi at ninety
can still stump you.
The life of Napoleon wielded great influence upon Russi. It was his
undergraduate course on Modern History that introduced him to this
enigmatic, one of the most debatable and talked about characters in the days
of yore. As the young Oxonian read about this man, he was overwhelmed,
amazed by the French warrior’s sheer strength of will, his ambitious
pursuits, and most of all by a man daring to embrace life with all its
challenges, and living it on his own terms. But the one who started off as a
rebel, championing the cause of the freedom of France, eventually became
an autocrat. A story goes that Ludwig van Beethoven was asked by a
general to compose a symphony and dedicate it to Napoleon’s feats of
success. After some obvious reluctance the great composer agreed to
oblige. Beethoven himself was all for the cause of French Revolution and it
was probably owing to his admiration for Napoleon as the embodiment of
those ideals, that he compared him to the greatest consuls of ancient Rome.
But the composer was so disillusioned when Napoleon crowned himself
Emperor of the French in May 1804, that he took hold of the title page of
the score, and scratched out the name ‘Bonaparte’ violently, creating a hole
in the paper. He later changed the title to Sinfonia Eroica,composta per
festeggiare il sovvenire d’un grand’uomo (Heroic Symphony, composed to
celebrate the memory of a great man). It is believed that Eroica was finally
dedicated to Jean Baptiste Bernadotte, who later became Charles XIV of
Sweden.
Beethoven’s prophetic words were bang on. Napoleon indeed became
an absolute ruler. But Russi contravenes saying that “it is foolishness to
judge men of this stature against societal conventions.” And it’s equally
striking that Russi rates partial autocracy over democracy – that a judicious
dictator might actually work towards the betterment of his people. This is
perhaps a thought not available to many. Only a few can see that beneath
what seems to be a man’s vaulting ambition may lie hidden, a larger bene-
volent plan. His unmitigated admiration for this conqueror remains as
strong. “He was one of the greatest strategists of the world and that’s why
he became such a great warrior.” He qualifies it further by saying, “What
others call power, I call it attitude. Do your work neatly and inspire others
to do the same. One day you will find you have won the battle. A battle
doesn’t mean bloodshed; it means a process to reach your target. And you
know what should be the target of a decent human being? To wage a battle
against dishonesty and anything that is immoral and indecent.”
So, Napoleon remains Russi’s all-time hero given his sterling
achievements. “Whatever he did, it deserved success. He was unbeatable, as
he marshalled through a practical military genius. He led a full life and died
very young, but left his footprints, having changed the course of European
History.” Well, it must have been some freaky coincidence that he was
christened Rustomji by his Parsi parents Sir Homi Mody and Lady Jerbai.
Blessed with their first child on January 17 of 1918, perhaps they wanted
this Capricorn with a sunny disposition to be a warrior waging battles
against all odds in life and named him Rustomji Hormusjii after the
legendary Persian fighter, the son of Zal, and a much-cherished subject of
the Persian poets. Fondly addressed as ‘Russi’ by his doting parents, the
mother once took her firstborn to an astrologer who predicted that the child
would live life king-size and his fortunes would roll. As the young boy
matured into a man, his elaborate lifestyle elicited all the attention in public
domain. But paradoxically enough, his heart of gold found him a place in
the hearts of not-so-fortunate millions. Perhaps, the fortune-teller could
have just gazed into the sparkling eyes of little Russi that here was destiny’s
child, who would leave a mark of distinction in his pursuit of bonding with
fellow human beings.
 
 
IF BACKGROUNDS WERE TO GIVE a clue, then there is solid ground
for Russi being so down-to-earth. Sir Homi Mody and Lady Jerbai
showered effusive affection on their eldest child, but that pampering
stopped short of allowing him to get spoilt. All along, he was encouraged to
make friends with anyone he came into contact with, no matter which strata
of society he belonged to. There was no such stipulation or any bar on the
son of the Governor of Bombay (Mumbai) against sharing a meal with
other boys. Although Lady Jerbai was born amidst plenty, being the
daughter of an affluent business man, Cowasjee, running a stevedore firm,
she also inherited the legacy of certain values that she would later instil in
her three boys. A strong-willed woman, she moulded Russi’s personality
and values so significantly that he still reveres every word she uttered: “My
mother taught me the lessons of character, credibility and compassion.
Truly speaking, she was one of the best philosophers I have ever known or
seen. I still worship her, for she shaped my very being. I imbibed from her
that intrinsic sense of discipline and fair play. In fact, it was she only who
taught her sons how not to compromise with injustice and unfairness. She
always impressed upon me that evil deeds and evil words, those things were
evil; but there is no shame or evil in wearing torn clothes, sitting down with
the poor to share a meal, or standing by the roadside eating puchkas. That
was not part of evil.” Learning such noble lessons in formative years not to
have any judgmental stand towards fellow beings was indisputably “one of
the primary inspirations” behind Russi’s dynamic career as a corporate
leader.
It might sound strange, but he has the recollection of his mother holding
him in her arms and singing to him. And when he asked her about it later in
life, whether it was true that she used to sing to him, she replied, “Yes, it is
true; but you were less than a year old then, how could you possibly
remember?” Yet, it is one of those kindly things that Russi remembers. That
in a way reinforces that he had an ear for music since he was a toddler: “I
wanted to learn violin, but they couldn’t find a violin small enough for me
to learn. So I turned to piano. It was a German teacher who taught me and
my personal favourite remains Tychovosky.”
Russi was, indeed, very close to his mother, and she stood by him,
supporting him through every trial and tribulation. Lady Jerbai was a
forthright and bold woman, who believed in being candid about one’s
existence, with a keen sense to distinguish between good and bad, and how
these terms remained relative. “She would never allow herself to conform
to notions of conventional morality, think for herself, and take an
independent stance. If one went through a good phase, she would say it
would not last. And if one went through a rough patch, she would say that
every day was not a Sunday. She took the good and the bad in her stride,”
reveals Russi. This basic simplicity and pragmatic ethos got entrenched in
Russi as he disco-vered his mother was a remarkable woman, both
progressive and compassionate in equal measure. Apart from being the
chairperson of ‘Time and Talent’ in Bombay, she was also among the first
few women in the city to cut her hair short and also ride a bicycle! “My
mother was a spirited woman. She was not an intellectual or highly
educated, but very enlightened. And her liberal outlook compensated for
her lack of education. She wouldn’t go by the popular notions and was
rather keen on redefining them. She did all the right things that a woman
should do in life. She was receptive to everything that life was to offer and
always took the right decision. She didn’t have any old-fashioned ideas. She
wanted short hair, so she had it cut short, though in those times it was
considered abnormal for Indian women.”
To the manor born
Lady Jerbai with President Dr Rajendra Prasad
Sir Homi Mody with Prime Minister Pt Jawaharlal Nehru

A regimented routine at Harrow

 A well turned out Harrovian

Russi and Albert Einstein vibrated the corridors of Oxford with strains
of piano & violin
 Illustration: Courtesy Russi Mody

An English sophisticate,retaining Indian roots

 Russi with Lady Jerbai and Sir Homi Mody: “If I am grateful to God for
any thing in this world,it is the mother and father that I had.”
If it was his voracious reading of Napoleon’s life that fashioned his
thoughts and ideology, his philosophy of life is what he imbibed from his
mother. To be courageous, adjust to any given situation, not to be dejected
by any setback, or get carried away at the prospect of good fortune. Her
attitude that “nothing in life is static and it goes through phases”, was the
dictum Russi grasped from his mother. This stoic approach might explain
how Russi could maintain his calm during the trickiest of situations he were
to face later in life: “My mother taught me all the home truths, rules and
virtues, and being considerate to others. That built me up.” And once she
wrote to all her sons:
I want you three to follow my instructions and act accordingly. My
first and most anxious wish is that you three should love one
another, look after one another, and not criticise one another behind
their back, but correct one on the face and listen to the criticism.
You three are full of faults, no one is perfect…
Lady Jerbai would discipline Russi like hell. “I was very naughty and
being the firstborn, my mother had very definite ideas as to how a child
should be brought up, and that also meant picking up the rod at the slightest
provocation. But she applied that rod with a lot of justice and care. I got a
lot of bashing from her, because I deserved it. Along with this came loads
of love. I just adored her.” As Russi internalised his mother’s trait and
became a strict disciplinarian, he enormously benefited from this stricture
that garnered positive results at every stage of his life: “Discipline – in an
academic or in an industrial environment – is an innate quality of the human
mind. I would venture to suggest that discipline is something indivisible. It
is like what Mahatma Gandhi used to say about truth. You cannot say I will
be truthful on this occasion and not on another. Discipline is something you
have within you. If discipline is imposed from the top, then it is not the kind
that I would venture to put before you or suggest that you adopt. Discipline
must be self-discipline. And self-discipline is one simple formula; conduct
yourselves in life that you do not make a nuisance of yourself to others, and
at all times you show consideration for another viewpoint besides your
own. That is the true discipline of life. It applies in every affair – in
economic affairs, in Parliament, in industrial organisations, in IITs, in
academic institutions…and above all in one’s own home.”
While his mother had taken upon herself the colossal task of regulating
Russi, Sir Homi was a softie, who would be more lenient, and couldn’t get
tough as an extremely affectionate father. He wouldn’t hurt a fly. But he
was totally rooted in his values with a deep sense of respect towards fellow
beings. And his humane qualities rubbed off on Russi. For that matter, his
father was his first hero. He looked up to this man who was never known to
have indulged in any misuse of power and received his valuable lessons:
“My father taught me brutal honesty, and to say what you mean and mean
what you say.” That apart, he observed his father’s ability to face any
adverse situation. Russi owes his propensity to forgive a person, of not
bearing a grudge against anyone to ‘this wonderful man’ who was so
tolerant and forgiving: “He was quiet by nature and preferred not to
interfere when my mother disciplined us. And he was such a stickler for
time that people would set their clocks by my father’s movements. I also
learnt the basic thumb rule of punctuality from him. Let me tell you
something. People have credited me with being an expert in man-
management and all kinds of fancy things, but no one has ever given me
credit for my one solid achievement in life, and that is, I have been the
master of time, never the slave – 8.30 to me is often 8.29, never 8.31.”
 It was some time in the eighteenth century that Russi’s great grandfather
Ferozeshah had left Surat in Gujarat for the Bombay city to seek his fortune
in this hub of textile industry. The young man was offered a job in one of
the cotton mills, wherein he rose to the position of a manager and
eventually settled down there. His son Borjurjee followed suit and chose the
same profession, as the family moved to Bombay and made it their home.
No way would have Ferozeshah ever imagined that his grandson Homi
would be knighted and become the future Governor of Bombay Presidency
and United Provinces. And Lady Jerbai was a perfect match for her
illustrious husband, who served in several eminent positions – member of
the Viceroy’s Executive Council, a member of the Legislative Assembly,
Chairman of the Central Bank of India, and Chairman of a host of clubs,
that included the Western India Turf Club, and the Cricket Club of India.
As the family grew, Russi found playmates in his two younger brothers,
Kali and Piloo. Despite their hectic public engagements and a vibrant social
life, both Sir Homi and Lady Jerbai were very caring parents. They would
find precious time to spend with their three sons. Russi attributes his mental
make-up to the good part of his childhood that he spent with his parents
before he was sent off to the English shores. Given Russi’s penchant for
fun, both the parents would often be amused by the little one’s mischief, but
none of the siblings was ever allowed to transgress the well-defined code of
correct behaviour. Indecent words or any such untenable acts were strictly
prohibited. Even the slightest breach or deviation to flout the norms
wouldn’t escape Lady Jerbai’s attention and it warranted a dressing down:
“All in all, we had a very strict upbringing; yet, we boys would feel warm
and cosy in our parents’ company.” But the children were not shown undue
indulgence; no such luxury was doled out. A plain shirt with khaki shorts
during the day and white cotton trousers in the evenings was all that the
boys were allowed to wear. Nor were they flooded with entertainment. “We
were allowed to see only one movie and a drama in a year, and that too was
subject to its content”, reminisces Russi.
The way discipline and leniency were blended by Sir Homi and Lady
Jerbai, they believed their sons would grow up to shoulder a sense of
responsibility and be high on self-esteem. There was no sign of dismay or
even disapproval when Russi tasted wine even before he was in his teens,
for moderation was ingrained all along. The pleasure principle, for that
matter, applied equally to celebrating the festivals. “The Parsi New Year
was always great fun. The local bands would play with great gusto. We
gave them three rupees which they gladly accepted. Would I dare to hand
them that little now? They would simply flip over ”, adds Russi jovially.
Fun and humour was fairly abundant in the Mody household. Russi and
his two siblings were always playing pranks in their bungalow near Petit
Centorium at Cumballa Hill. If only a few minutes back they were chasing
pets around with a stick in their hands, they would be found hounding
parakeets out of their nests, running after squirrels, or hitting tennis ball
against the wall. Sometimes their capers would make Lady Jerbai lose her
cool and run after them, holding one by the collar and another by his mop.
Weekend came as godsend to the Mody boys, since Sunday mornings were
eagerly awaited to visit their maternal grandparents. While others would
wake up a little late on Sunday, for Lady Jerbai it turned out to be the
busiest day. The boys would have to be scrubbed before they were to put on
their starched clothes, and their hair combed and parted neatly. The three
would then be herded into a car, with goodies for grandparents neatly
packed and kept on their mother’s lap. Grandpa’s place would mean a free
run of the house without any interference or fear of being scolded. A
sumptuous spread would be laid and bolted in no time by the boys. And in
the evening, dining with their cousins, they would thoroughly amuse their
mother and her four sisters. The entire household would be filled with peals
of laughter.
Memories of those wonderful weekends are still afresh in Russi’s mind.
What influenced him the most was the way his parents lived. “They enjoyed
the best things of life and behaved in the best possible manner. To me, they
were the ideal and model parents and, in fact, I tried to regulate my life
according to them. If I am grateful to God for any thing in this world, it is
the mother and father that I had, and the love and warmth they showered on
me.”
Russi’s lack of pomposity and delectable sense of humour seems
genetic – these two facets were inherited from Sir Homi – the gentleman
who never took anything too seriously. All along his ready wit added a
dimension to his character, this being as true for his sons too. And thereby
goes a story. Pt Jawaharlal Nehru, the first Prime Minister of Independent
India, had tremendous regard for Sir Homi and he felt that his presence in
the Parliament would counteract any friction and discord with his witty
deliveries. And he wrote a letter to him in 1947, that read:
Homi, you have served the British well, and you have been
knighted, but now we have become independent and you must help
me. We need you in the new Parliament, in the Lok Sabha, because
things are going to be tense and tempers will fray, and there will be
all kinds of ugly scenes. You, with your wit, can defuse all tension,
and you can help me a lot.
Sir Homi was not even remotely interested in politics, so his reluctance
to accept the Prime Minister’s offer was understandable. But Pt Nehru knew
how a man of as sterling wit as Homi could lighten the mood in Parliament,
and he persisted. Ultimately, Sir Homi replied, “Panditji, if you need only
my ‘wit’, why don’t you take any one of my three sons?” Pt Nehru asked if
any of his sons had Homi’s wit? “Oh yes”, Sir Homi quipped. “One is a
Dim Wit, the other is a Nit Wit, and the third one is a Half-Wit. Take your
pick.” While Sir Homi’s jousting was a delight for some, it was nightmare
for others, as he would deflate the inflated egos. He had also penned two
books, The Political Future of India and Life of Sir Pherozeshah Mehta,
widely known as the ‘Lion of Bombay’.
Later, when Pt Nehru offered him the governorship of the United
Provinces in 1949, Sir Homi gave an expected reply while expressing his
gratitude:
I trust I will be permitted to drink my whisky in my private rooms
with my friends and my family. I realise that this will not include
public functions.
Pt Nehru agreed without a murmur. Following him closely, Sir Homi’s
sons did not disappoint either, with their relentless repartee. As is well
known, his youngest son Piloo Mody, the architect who went on to become
a member of Rajya Sabha as an independent candidate, was among the first
few politicians in the Opposition to be arrested after the declaration of
Emergency in 1975. While other prisoners would live in fear, Piloo retained
his sense of humour and made light of the grim circumstances. After spen-
ding fifteen months in jail, when asked about his experiences, Piloo had
replied that even if others were unhappy, for him it was great, as he enjoyed
every bit of his stay! And it’s fairly well known how one day Piloo walked
into the Parliament wearing a placard that read, “I’m a CIA agent”, to cock
a snook at Mrs Gandhi, who incidentally was a good friend of Russi. “We
all three were different individuals entitled to our own opinions”, divulges
Russi. “My brothers had their own traits, their own likes and dislikes. But
we all loved to have a good time, and shared a great sense of humour. That
was a great binder. We were not academically inclined. None of us was an
intellectual.”
Once Piloo told Russi that in a bid to protest against the hike in fuel
prices, he would go to Parliament riding an elephant. Russi derided him
saying, “How can an elephant ride another elephant?” While they both
excelled at dry sarcasm, their middle brother Kali’s ceaseless puns (a
financial wizard who introduced the first credit card in India, i.e. Diner’s
Card) would have them in splits. Writing about his brother Russi in
Glimpses of a Legend, he expressed that after their father’s death, Russi,
being the eldest son, became the ‘kurta’ of the family and Piloo, the
youngest, became the ‘pyjama’and he himself being the second son held the
family together by being the nara (cord)!
 
 
RUSSI’S SCHOOLING COMMENCED AT Bhadra New High School and
his mother was obsessed about his learning Gujarati, since it was his mother
tongue. “But if anybody had seen the future, she should have insisted on my
learning Hindi instead, which was actually more useful to me”, laments
Russi. While his mother wanted him to score well in studies, the father was
happier if Russi did well in sports and he did as a fast, short distance
sprinter, thus managing to please both. Lady Jerbai was, however, always
keen on educating her son abroad. She wanted him to get exposure in the
West, in a world away from home, and discover his ownmoorings. But Sir
Homi did not want his son to go overseas at such tender an age. The couple
would often argue over what would be in the best interest of their son –
whether it was day school in Bombay or a public school boarding in
Britain. Lady Jerbai’s desire was further fuelled as she would watch her
sisters’ children when they came back home from their school in England.
It took Lady Jerbai some years to convince her husband about the
distinct advantages of studying at an English public school. His mother’s
elated voice is still embedded in Russi’s mind: “I was in my bath and
suddenly I heard her shouting excitedly, ‘Russi, thank your Papa, he has
finally agreed to take you to England for your studies’.” As once Sir Homi
had said of his wife, “There’s always a perfect understanding between us
and whenever we disagree, she goes her own way and I go hers.” But for
Russi, it couldn’t have mattered either way: “I was just a child of nine when
I left Bombay; though today, I realise how this exposure at two of the finest
institutions gave me a world-view of life. Every day I spent in England was
education in itself. My thinking, my attitude towards others, my way of life,
everything has been influenced by my stay in Britain. And one particular
trait that I developed as a result of British education was my sense of justice
and fair play, and that’s what my mother too had taught me all along. I think
I have found that terribly important in life, especially while dealing with
people in India.” And England remained his second home for many more
following decades, while his two brothers studied at American universities.
In the summer of 1927, Russi was packed off to England. Air travel was
certainly not an option those days. It meant a two-week journey by sea. He
embarked on an ocean liner of Peninsula & Oriental with his parents. But
he would never be found in the cabin and Lady Jerbai had a tough time
keeping track of her son. If the mother’s attention was diverted even
momen-tarily the boy would slip out, to be on the deck. The blue sky above
and the green ocean below would fire the boy’s imagination. While others
suffered bouts of seasickness, for little Russi it was an adventurous voyage.
Till 1939, when he would finally return home after the completion of his
education in England, Russi undertook several voyages, and it was the sea,
which taught him at quite young an age, the virtue of being humble. He saw
the vast ex-panse of the sea, and as the ship bobbed and tossed, he learnt
that no matter how invincible a man might be, he was powerless before the
forces of nature.
Russi was enrolled at St Cyprians, a preparatory school, before moving
to Harrow and join the league of Harrovians, like Winston Churchill and Pt
Nehru. “They both passed away. Think of the burden I had to bear”, is
Russi’s famous saying. And he restates it all over again with his
characteristic chuckle. So was Jack Profumo (the controversial Secretary of
State for War in the British Government) a student at Harrow, and Russi had
been tackled at rugger (rugby football) by Profumo. But Russi was not to
follow the British way of life mindlessly, only derive and emulate the best
in terms of knowledge, finesse and sophistication – acquire that finishing
touch while retaining his Indian roots.
He still exults in the memories of sailing the seas in those twelve years.
And this particular voyage at the onset of the thirties. While at home the
Civil Disobedience Movement had begun, in London, the first Round Table
Conference on November 12 of 1930, was eagerly awaited. All parties were
present, except the Congress which was boycotting it in protest against
Mahatma Gandhi’s arrest. They were unwilling to enter into any
constitutional discussion. They demanded the enforcement of the Nehru
Report in its entirety. Fifty-eight chosen delegates were sent from India to
represent their respective communities and Sir Homi was one of them. Both
father and son were on the same ship which was sailing to England. And
little Russi, absorbed in his own world, was unaware that this voyage was
going to be recorded in the annals of history. Subsequently, he met
stalwarts, like Sardar Vallabhbhai Patel, Mohammad Ali Jinnah, and even
Mahatma Gandhi, on the deck of Peninsula & Orient liner. “Barring
Mahatma they were all uncles to me”, remembers Russi. “He was too big a
personality for me to get close to him. I was overawed by Father of the
Nation”.
Back at Harrow, Russi’s sense of discipline got more pronounced with
the school’s regimented, gruelling routine. “But I had no problem of
personal nature”, he states, for he didn’t find it overbearing when he saw
every body else falling in line, so did he. “Well, those days, people wouldn’t
recognise the fact that you are going to a great public school and would mix
with the elite. You were just a school boy.” Ironically, the wit in him also
came to the fore, as he began to see the humorous side of that orderly
existence where everything moved with clockwork precision. But like
Churchill, he too was an indifferent student. Russi has a take on that too:
“Churchill made many glorious mistakes in life, but he succeeded. Success
is part of his story. You got to be a successful man. These people were great
because they were a cut above the rest.” Point granted!
But Russi breathed easy and tasted absolute freedom only when he
moved to Oxford, at Christ Church College, in 1935. Gone were the
harrowing restrictions. Oxford heralded a new life. What a welcome
change! In Russi’s words, it was ‘sheer heaven’! He could attend lectures at
will and do his own number at his own peril. “In fact, I attended only three
lectures during my whole tenure there”, comes the candid confession. He
played piano, sang at nightclubs, shook a leg with his friends, showed them
card tricks with sleight of his hand, and took to rugby matches. Life, indeed,
was all about fun and frolic. And that’s precisely why History interested
him. Being disinterested, he found it very difficult to pass exams, and
History seemed the coolest way to get a degree. “I took everything the
easiest way”, comes the rejoinder. But it also held a latent fascination for
him as History was people-centric, owing to the historical figures, and their
rate of success and failure. In fact, he became so obsessive about it that
whenever he went to France and talked to the locals, he would ask them in
the course of conversation if they knew that Napoleon had twenty-six
marshals. And how many of them could they name? They would usually
say, “Four or five”, and he would boastfully claim to know them all, and
then proceed to rattle off the names without a blink.
Russi’s interest in History was more contemporary than getting to know
about what the Greeks and the Romans did. He was keener on what the
British and the French did in the last two-three hundred years, for they also
affected his own country at that point of time. Lo and behold! Modern
History at Oxford started from 55 BC! That was when the first invasion of
England took place by the Romans. Russi couldn’t possibly pick and
choose. Perforce he had to follow the syllabi. But if he were to change or
rewrite a part of history, he would certainly like to change the history of the
last sixty years in India, and pen a draft on the India of his dreams, as
delibe-rated in the forthcoming chapters.
Mischief, fun and laughter remained a constant at Oxford, and there was
no room for any compunction, for partying was the temptation he invariably
succumbed to. What about girlfriends? “Oh, plenty of them! Actually
before I got married, I never treated girls very seriously. I used to take them
as part of life. I took it all naturally”, is the straight answer. And once at a
cock-tail, a close college buddy Kali Vakeel introduced him to a member of
the British aristocracy. He wished the gentleman as “Hello, Lord”, knowing
fully well that it was incorrect form of greeting. The idea was to embarrass
his colleague. Again his razor-sharp wit and puckish humour made him a
great hit among the fellow students. He got actively involved in the
Students’ Union movement, thus becoming the president of ‘Oxford
Union’, given his oratorical skills. And his acerbic barbs often disguised his
deep concern over certain current issues: “I used to attend all meetings of
the union. Of all my activities at Oxford, the foremost was my involvement
with the union.”
At one of these usual congregations in the evening, some of Russi’s
nutty friends dressed him up as an old, venerable Indian philosopher, Prof
Vishnu, and sneaked him in to speak on ‘Present Day Morals’. He played to
the gallery to perfection and displayed his histrionics. In a high-pitched,
convincingly whiny voice, he made a scathing attack on the morals and
make-up of the female undergraduates that included the habit of smoking
and mode of dressing up. And among the listeners were the likes of Indira
Nehru and Kamila Tyabjee. Although many cigarettes were hastily stubbed
and a resounding applause by the audience thrilled Russi, they discovered
to their mirth and surprise that the one masquerading as Prof Vishnu was
none other than the naughty boy, who would play a prank at the first given
opportunity. It so happened that he blew his nose and his beard fell off.
Russi met Indira (Nehru) Gandhi a couple of times at Oxford and liked
her. He formed his first impression that “she was straightforward and
honest”. For many years their paths didn’t cross, but the acquaintance was
renewed once she became the prime minister. Muses Russi, “I wouldn’t
have known she would become the Prime Minister of India. She was known
as Priyadarshini Indira Nehru, the daughter of the rebel Pt Nehru. But if you
spoke to her and looked her straight in the eye, she would pull her sari
pallav over her face or look down. She was too shy. Later, it was hard to
believe that she had turned into a tigress. I was surprised by the
transformation that she had gone through in the intervening years. That
reticent young girl, who seemed more of a silent observer, had become a
forceful decision-maker.”
Mrs Gandhi is known to have sought Russi’s counsel, time and again,
and he thinks of the lady as one of the best prime ministers that the country
has ever had: “I do think that she made some mistakes. But who doesn’t
make mistakes? Even a prime minister is free to make mistakes, though
people think that a prime minister shouldn’t make any mistake. The
important thing to me is, if you make some mistake, get it rectified. Mrs
Gandhi was very quick and ruthless, both qualities necessary in a superb
prime minister.” Being a staunch follower of Napoleon, Russi feels, “The
biggest enemy of us all is democracy. It may be good for the rest of the
world, but for a developing country, like India, we need a certain amount of
authoritarian rule. We achieved more during those nineteen months of
Indira Gandhi’s Emergency.” Now these views maybe unpalatable to some,
but they might also concur with the views of those, who like Russi, feel so
about the present system of governance in India.
Russi might have skipped classes galore, but never did he miss a single
weekend morning to meet his Professor, JC Masterson, who it seems had
impressed him a great deal. “He was my tutor. Every weekend I would visit
him at a particular time, and we spent two-three hours together. He made
me write essays on historical events. Apart from his vast wisdom as a
historian, he was a sportsman at heart. A jolly good fellow!” Russi still
retains fond memories of his professor even after seven decades. “I could
relate to him. I appreciated his human quality. It was an honour to be his
pupil. I was too young to know that he was so well known. Only later did I
realise how eminent a person he was.”
But what was even more historic during his stay at Oxford was Russi’s
meeting with Albert Einstein, the Nobel Laureate nuclear physicist, who
had a brief sojourn in Oxford for six months before he went to Princeton.
Both Russi and Einstein were lodged in the same vicinity. In fact, they were
next-door neighbours. He recalls this fleeting association as to how “the
scientist would relax, playing violin in his room, and I would play piano in
my own room”. Russi had somehow got hold of a piano which he played
remarkably well. “That was no problem. Pianos were all over the place. I
was an early riser and so was he. One morning while waiting for his bath,
he asked me, ‘Who was playing the piano?’ I said, ‘It was me.’ He was
amazed and wanted us to have a duet. I requested him to come to my room,
as it was not possible for me to carry my instrument to his room. He agreed
and we played a duet. I was floored by his simplicity. The greatness of the
man was that after the first one or two occasions, when you could not forget
that you were in the presence of possibly one of the greatest men in the
world, he was really a very unassuming person.”
On quite a few occasions, Russi and Einstein rendered public
performances together. Even now he relives those evenings when they both
vibrated the corridors of Oxford: “Einstein was like a dear old uncle to me.
He loved strawberries and cream.” It must have been music and desserts
that bonded them. And sure enough, they never discussed Nuclear Physics.
But many years later, while recounting this encounter, Russi would
nonchalantly spice up the tale with his tongue firmly in cheek saying, “I
occasionally filled in the gaps in his knowledge of Nuclear Physics!”
Sir Homi was well aware of his son’s great need and desire to enjoy his
youth to the fullest. And so, he would indulge frequently in parental checks.
One such amusing instance was when Russi complained to his father that he
had no clue where his next meal was coming from: “Papa was really
alarmed and asked in horror what I meant. I told him I wasn’t quite sure
whether it was coming from the Ritz or the Savoy!” For that matter, the
allowance that arrived from home couldn’t have been adequate to
accommodate Russi’s extracurricular jaunts. A feather light dancer, swaying
to music and rhythm, he would sing for his supper by playing piano at the
nightclubs, and earn extra pounds. He had picked excellent French from his
mother. So, when he was in Paris, he would even sing French numbers,
particularly the one that became his all-time favourite, J’attendrai…, in
small bistros: “I would augment my income with whatever little talent I
had.”
Right through his stay in Britain, Russi religiously received letters from
Sir Homi, who was more of a confidant than an overbearing father
sermonising or wielding the stick. And every time he read those letters, he
longed to be reunited with his family:
Dearest darling Russi,
This will find you a young man about town again. I hope that does
not mean a continual round of theatres and late nights. Holidays
must be spent in the country, but I suppose none of the boys and
girls, big and small, who are gathered at Harewood Court, would
subscribe to such an old-fashioned idea!
You haven’t told me anything about the remaining credits you have
to acquire. I hope there is no difficulty about that matter. From the
way in which you have forged ahead during the last twelve months,
I am confident you are going to distinguish yourself before you have
done with Harrow. I want the whole school to get an idea of your
oratorical and musical gifts…
 Papa
Sir Homi had already fathomed that Russi had quite a feel for music,
and natural gift of eloquence. His sense of pride and satisfaction over his
son’s performance was more than evident in these pleasing words.
 
 
RUSSI WAS MISSED BY HIS PARENTS as much as he missed them. But
their hectic schedules didn’t deter Sir Homi and Lady Jerbai to visit their
son at least once a year. And their visit brought in its wake fabulous
vacation at the most gorgeous locales in Europe with his two younger
brothers. They sailed across France, Italy, Germany, Spain, and other exotic
holiday resorts. Celebrating this academic break with a cruise down the
Seine or savouring delicacies, like pasta, potato croquettes, or prosciutto
balls in Italy; following Brother Grimm to Hamelin to see a weekly Pied
Piper pantomime in Germany, or watching the ballet of man and bull in
Spain – every bit of this exposure could only refine his taste further.
Charmed by the elegance of France and its people, the lasting youthful
memories brought Russi back to this land after almost two decades. Russi
has been visiting Cannes since 1958: “It is their way of life, their enjoyment
of life, and the night life that lured me. I wanted to enjoy my life the same
way and I loved the night life. Since the late fifties, I have been there every
single year. I am so familiar with this place that everyone right from
barbers, shopkeepers to restaurateurs knows me by name.” One of Russi’s
dear friends, Bernard Morel, once remarked how he was besotted with
France and everything about its culture and history. “He knows French
history, and particularly Napoleon, far better than most French citizens – its
towns and the countryside, its food and wines. When spending part of his
holidays in the South of France, he used to say that he had a good excuse to
be there, suspecting that there were unexploited coal mines underneath the
Cannes, and that one day or the other, he would have to start digging to
prove that he was right.”
Sir Homi and Lady Jerbai would eagerly await Russi’s return during his
break. Countdown to the day of their son’s arrival would continue until the
day he reached home. Lady Jerbai would be found watching from the
terrace of their bungalow, as the gate was flung open to let Russi’s car in. It
was to be a day of happy reunion in the Mody family. Sir Homi would
organise a series of get-togethers at his residence, with the crème de la
crème of Bombay making a beeline to attend the do. And one such event
became the defining moment of his life, as Russi met ‘the’ man who was to
later become his ‘friend, philosopher and guide’, and their association
would far surpass this overused cliché.
“Hello young man! What are you studying at Christ Church College?”
Russi, still in his teens, was asked by one of his father’s friends, while being
introduced to the guest at this dinner hosted by his parents.
“I am studying Modern History, sir”, he replied.
“History?” he raised his brow. The guest perhaps didn’t expect this
sprightly boy to study History at a time when engineering was meant to
offer the best of prospects. This is how Russi’s very first meeting with
Jehangir Ratanji Dadabhoy (JRD) Tata happened in 1935. Although JRD
did not appear to have been impressed by Russi’s choice of academic
discipline, he was struck by his alacrity and the confident way he held his
own.
By his own admission, Russi was a ‘mediocre’ student, but how could
that possibly dampen his spirits! And he discloses that since his paternal
cousin Naval Mody was posted abroad, he would meet Russi in London
quite often. And in this particular visit to London, Naval asked Russi to join
him for dinner that he declined politely, using the alibi that he had to study
for his final exams. His cousin was somewhat impressed considering that
Russi was a constant absentee when it came to attending classes, and
suddenly it had dawned upon him that he had to catch up with his studies.
But the truth lay elsewhere as a few days later Russi walked into a well
known restaurant with two college friends, where Naval too happened to be
dining. The cat was out of the bag. Knowing Russi well, Naval was least
surprised on seeing him. But Russi’s discomfort was compounded at this
embarrassing revelation by one of his friends that “how much they had
enjoyed the gaming tables at Le Touquet !”
And when it really came to taking up the final exams, Russi found a
novel way to solve his problem when he found that he could not answer a
single question that had been set in one particular paper: “So what I did? I
answered questions framed by me only and submitted the answer script.
When the examiner later asked me about it, I had to admit that I didn’t
know the answer to any one of those questions.” Russi attributes it all to
some divine grace that he could scrape through exams with honours in
History.
But the real edification lay elsewhere: “What could have been more
gratifying than meeting brilliant minds from all walks of life who were
there at Oxford to achieve that goal of excellence! That cosmopolitan
outlook I acquired in a foreign land made me interact with people
irrespective of their racial origin, be it the French, the British, the Italian,
the German or the Spanish. They too have taken to me. I can’t boast of any
spectacular achievement in any field, except in the field of human
relationship.” As Russi’s close British friend, Rt Hon Earl Jellicoe, once
observed: “Russi is a major player on the world scene. He is one hundred
per cent at home in all major countries of the world. In our own country, he
knows more than most about London and Britain and about our British
peculiarities.”
Russi’s stay at Harrow and Oxford had profound impact on his eclectic
thinking, though his basic instincts and temperament remained what they
were. He was the same fun-loving, rakish Russi. But now it was time to
return home to India and seek a suitable job, and Sir Homi arranged for his
twenty-one-year-old son to meet Sir Ardeshir Dalal, the Director-in-Charge
of Tata Steel, Jamshedpur.

 
  

II
BAPTISM BY FIRE
 
For someone who had opted for History, purely because it was the easiest
option to attain a formal degree, why did Russi choose to rough it out on the
shop-floor, more so, given his privileged background? “I did not choose
anything. There was no choice in the matter”, he lets you know as a matter
of fact. He had no burning desire to join the steel industry either. But having
been raised in a family that had close ties with the Tatas, it was a given that
Sir Homi’s son should join one of the enterprises of the Tata Group. This
was the era of the 1930s and ’40s, when the ambitious, educated youngsters
sought to either join the Civil Service or the Bar. Although his father was a
renowned legal eagle, Russi never fancied a career in Law or step into the
shoes of a bureaucrat, the breed that he took a pathological dislike to, later
in life.
Considering Russi’s outright fun-loving disposition, a prudent Sir Homi
felt that a full-time employment was imperative to keep his son fruitfully
occupied. So he found a job for him which, he was sure, would help Russi
not only grow and mellow down, but also make him evolve professionally.
More so, come to grips with the ground realities of life that you’ve to plod
your way to the top. He was confident that given his son’s grooming in the
West and easy manner, Russi would make rapid strides, no matter what
vocation he landed in. Above it all, joining TISCO (Tata Iron & Steel
Company Ltd) meant bringing him under the direct aegis of JRD Tata, and
thus get ignited by this highly successful young man known to be among
the most powerful and influential decision-makers of his time. Sir Homi
held him in high esteem: “JRD has a very keen intellect...his versatility is
truly amazing. Whether it is a blast furnace or an ice-cream freezer, an
aircraft engine or a cigarette lighter, he is equally at home with all of them.”
And JRD addressed Sir Homi as “a mentor, a guide and an intimate
friend…”
He could see that his dear friend Jeh’s passion for work would make the
desirable impression on Russi, and in the process, he would also learn a
great deal about grappling with complex situations. Sir Homi’s incisive
foresight vis-à-vis Russi’s career graph was commendable, as a discerning
JRD, indeed, deciphered that spark in him and the way he could relate to
people. And Russi admits as much, “JRD, of course, had considerable
influence on me…like a friend. But, nevertheless, a person whom I admired
greatly, the way he did things, the way he behaved. If I had not known him,
sometimes I feel I would have grown into a very pompous individual… I
think he had a lot to teach me on how to behave naturally, irrespective of
what position one holds and things like that.”
One fine morning in 1939, Russi reached Jamshedpur. Sir Ardeshir
Dalal, the Director-in-Charge of the fledgling Tata Steel, and a colleague of
his father, offered Russi the job as an office assistant. Sir Dalal’s association
with the Tatas went back to 1905, when he applied for a JN Tata
Scholarship to compete for the ICS examination. After an outstanding
career in civil services, he came to Tata Steel in 1931, when the Company
was still going through financial turbulence and unstable labour relations.
Russi insisted on doing manual work at the Coke Oven as a khalasi, shop-
floor trainee in the steel plant. An enthused Russi got down to his first
assignment, brimming with excitement. Sir Homi was one of the directors
on the board of Tata Sons, and Chairman of Sir Dorabji Tata Trust, but at no
point did he feel disconcerted at Russi’s decision. He never knitted his
brow, nor ever tried to exercise his influence to wangle any special
privileges for his son. He had visualised Russi’s future prospects in Tisco.
And when the formidable chemical engineer with an American degree, Sir
Jehangir Ghandy, General Manager of the steel plant at Jamshedpur threw
this wild poser at Russi, “What do you hope to do here?” replied the young
enthusiast, “I hope to occupy this room some day.” The fighter in him was
beginning to surface. Perhaps it was the name ‘Russi’ that seemed to have a
bearing on his fortitude. But he was not aware that Ghandy had not taken
kindly to the audacious answer of this sprightly lad, who aspired to acquire
the hot seat. And in the years to come he would use any ploy to create
hurdles and spike Russi’s rise.
 Though Lady Jerbai was spending sleepless nights worrying over her
son’s placement, her maternal concern was unfounded. Russi had fallen
intensely in love with Jamshedpur at the very first sight. Even to himself, it
appeared strange that he had never seen this small town in Bihar before, but
felt so irresistibly drawn to it. And as amazing was his fondness for the
people to whom he had endeared himself within a short span. The die was
cast. This was his calling and providence had brought him where he
belonged. Russi wanted to be one with the workers at the plant. The dapper
suits tailored by Ranken & Co in Calcutta were neatly packed away, and in
his new dispensation, his wardrobe gave place to white khadi half-sleeve
shirts, shorts, pyjamas, and kurtas. Wondering at Russi’s purchase of the
khadi in bulk, the salesman asked, “Saab, aap neta hain ya minister hain?
(Sir, are you a political leader or a minister?).” Russi smiled and replied in
his broken Hindi, “Ab banney wala hoon. (I’m about to become one).”
But here was a catch. The job earned him valuable experience, not
money. “My pay was eight annas a day, and in addition, I received a food
subsidy of thirteen rupees and six annas a month. One of my biggest thrills
in life was when my salary got raised from eight annas to twelve annas a
day. Those were good days. I obviously did not live on the pay. My father
helped me a bit and life went on”, Russi predicates with predictable
candour. There was no room for remorse, for his goal was clear and well-
defined: “I had joined there basically for initial training. I was to join the
Calcutta or Bombay office later. But I simply fell for the place. So I asked
for an opening in one of the mills. This is how and why I started as a
khalasi.” His maiden task was to pull a hot bar from a furnace, drag it along
the floor, and give it to roll. And he continued until people realised that he
had no technical aptitude whatsoever, and no way would he ever go up the
ladder on the technical side. Perhaps, this stint was just meant to be a
counterfoil to see the other side of life that was tough, hard, and barely
privileged, where you had to slug it out for survival.
The meteoric rise of a khalasi to the numero uno position of chairman-
managing director of one of the prime outfits in the country may read like a
fancy tale to many, but for Russi, beginning his working life at Jamshedpur
would have been quite exacting, especially during the early 1940s, and
more so for a man, who had never been exposed to any kind of hardship.
That struggle, from which many might have fled away, lent the right
impetus to Russi to test his tenacity and tolerance, and prepared him for
much bigger challenges ahead. “There is no substitute for practical
experience. No amount of degrees can produce any result, unless the person
is actually involved in a particular job. I do not have anything against any
sort of formal training, and I would certainly recommend it. But I think, the
bright students who join these professional courses, should be allowed to
taste the fervour of practical experience, and then go back and share the
same with their co-mates. One learns only few good things within the
portals of an educational institution, like character-building, compassion,
etc, but theories can never be a substitute for good old shop-floor
experience”, avers Russi as he looks back. Sir Dalal put Russi through a
thorough induction programme and within a year and a half, he got
familiarised with all the divisions of the Company in the Works, General
Manager’s Office, Town Administration, Mines and Collieries, and the
Sales Offices. It was quite bewitching for this young aspirant to watch the
Company’s steel-making operations and its rare township, owing to the
fruition of the vision and creative genius of a great Indian entrepreneur,
Jamsetji Nusserwanji Tata.
 
 
TATA STEEL IS ONE GREAT SAGA of an enterprise of grit and deter-mi-
nation. RM Lala lends a prolific insight in his book, The Creation of
Wealth, as to how Jamsetji came to Bombay from Navasari in Gujarat, and
at 29, started a trading firm with a capital of Rs 21,000 in 1868. His
subsequent success with two textile mills made him strident enough to
aspire for setting up a steel plant. And in 1902, he wrote to his son Sir
Dorabji Tata from overseas that how he envisioned this steel city with shady
trees, lawns, gardens, playgrounds, and areas earmarked for temples,
mosques and churches. Unfortunately, Jamsetji passed away in Germany in
1904. Sir Dorabji took up the cudgels to actualise his father’s dream. In
1907, he was ready for his new venture, but repeatedly faced a discouraging
response that it would be impossible to manufacture steel in India, strongly
opposed by the mercantile. Undeterred by this denial of the London money
market, he found a way to raise all the funds through a public issue, and
thereby, elicited the support of eight thousand investors in Bombay.
 But even more daunting was the region where this plant had to be put
up. It was the area of Kalimati (later named Tatanagar by Lord Curzon) that
lay within the range of Bengal coalfields, and surrounded by the wooded
hills where wild elephants trampled the huts of tribal Santhals, who
managed a bare existence in these primitive environs. The suburbs were
belea-gured with impoverished villages, and the state of Bihar spelt anarchy
with law and order being defied as a matter of rule. The railway station of
Kalimati was adjacent to the village of Sakchi, where two rivers Kharkai
and Subarnarekha converged. And it was between these two rivers that a
new township was being intended. By all means, striving for such a venture
in the heart of wilderness was a mammoth task.
As the steel chimneys began to exude smoke, came a surly comment
from the Chairman of the Railways Board, Sir Frederick Upcott: “Do you
mean to say that the Tatas propose to make steel rails to British
specifications? Why, I will undertake to eat every pound of steel rail they
succeed in making.” During the World War I, Tatas exported 1500 miles of
steel rails to Mesopotamia, and now it was Sir Dorabji’s turn to return the
compliment with a sarcastic dig: “If Upcott had carried out his words he
would have had some slight indigestion.” It was against this devastating
backdrop that Tisco came into being, and Sir Dorabji was knighted in 1910.
But his financial problems were surmounting, and by 1924, the plant was
almost on the verge of shutting shop.
He fought back and sunk in all his personal assets. The wager paid off,
and during the World War II in 1939, his Company’s pride and fortunes
soared simultaneously, as the value of Tata steel appreciated. It
manufactured ‘Tatanagars’, i.e. bullet-proof plates and rivets to be fitted in
the armoured cars that saved many a life, as shells could buckle these metal
plates but couldn’t pierce them. Thus the occupants of these vehicles
remained safe. In fact, by now Tisco’s resident director Sir Jehangir Ghandy
yielded so much influence that during this war period when he spoke to the
Governor of Bihar about the petrol shortage, the deputy collector would
personally call up to ask about the number of cars for which fuel was
needed, considering that the district headquarters were about 56 kilometres
away in Chaibasa. This was also the time the British army raised the Ist
Bihar Regiment in Jamshedpur during World War II to protect the plant
from bombardment.
 At this point Russi stepped into Tisco. But rationally speaking, what
really hooked him on to stay put in this back of beyond, remote, dusty,
small provincial town? “It was an illegitimate hook on”, he responds in a
lighter vein. “The place was run by an institution called the Tatas, and to
me, any place in India which was a township not run by the government
was something unusual. Well, all this is an afterthought. At that time, what I
really liked was the way things were being done in Jamshedpur. And if you
really want to know how I survived in these conditions, I used to go to
parties from 10 at night to 3 in the morning. Even if there was none
happening I would organise one. Or even those who were not social
enough, and did not hold any parties, they were made to host them. So, now
when I look back, I think it was the way I wanted to live, and the way I
lived, people loved me for it. How was I to know that I would be presiding
over the destinies of so many people?”
As an office-apprentice, Russi could not be allotted the company
quarters, but he was fortunate enough to be accepted as a guest in the
spacious house at Jamshedpur, on 7 C Road East, of a senior executive of
Tisco, KAD Naoroji, the distinguished grandson of a renowned leader of
India’s freedom struggle, Dadabhai Naoroji. Eight years seemed to whiz
pass and Russi was evolving with a greater insight into the work
mechanism of the corporate world. Ascending the ladder rung by rung, all
too steadily, he validated it as much to himself as to his detractors that he
had a nerve of steel. There was hardly any aspect of Tisco’s operations that
did not bear his stamp. Russi was sent to Calcutta as an assistant to an agent
of the Company for about three years, after which he came back as Deputy
Coal Superintendent, Commercial. After a short spell with the company’s
offices and then on as Deputy Iron and Steel Controller, Russi found
himself in the Calcutta office of Tisco as the Deputy Coal Superintendent.
This year of India’s Independence was fraught with intense turmoil and
labour unrest. And Russi proved his prowess as a labour force manager. It
was trial by fire and his career took a dramatic turn. Russi’s confidence in
the men around him was put to litmus test. Militant trade unionism had
taken hold of employees at Calcutta’s Clive Street. On this afternoon of
February, a message arrived from the chairman’s office summoning him.
The incident that brought him into limelight is still as fresh in Russi’s
memory and he narrates it verbatim. “JRD asked me, ‘Russi, is it true that
in the whole of Clive Street a union of mercantile employees has been
formed, and all employees, except those twenty-two in your department,
have joined it?’ I replied that I must check with them and let him know the
actual facts. The following day I met him in his office and mumbled that the
basic reason behind their being absent from this movement was that they
were happy with the way I treated them. So they found no reason to join the
union. JRD said, ‘I am forming a Personnel Department in Jamshedpur. I
want you to join there, will you go to Jamshedpur?’ I said, ‘Yes, wherever
you say, I am an employee of Tata Steel’.”
 
 
IT WAS MARCH OF 1947. Russi was now the Additional Labour Officer.
“So within two days I was in Jamshedpur. Sir Ghandy didn’t like me, and
he put me in-charge of collieries and mines, so that I had nothing to do with
Jamshedpur. I said, ‘Ok’, but I stayed in Jamshedpur.” The premonition that
Sir Ghandy would invariably be on the lookout to put him down on some
pretext or the other didn’t ruffle Russi. Here was a cool dude. He always
took it easy. Evidently, it was his loyalty to the Tatas that made him forge
ahead with his missionary approach to work, ignoring the sore pinpricks.
Like steel, he was also being forged at Jamshedpur.
And this is how Russi took off as an HRD man, in his own words: “One
evening after my siesta I was going to my office, when I saw people with
torches and shirts soaked in blood running helter-skelter. I asked, ‘What’s
the matter?’ And they said they were up in revolt against the management
because of various things. Later, I got to know that a group of workers was
voicing a protest against their long-pending demand related to performance
bonus. I walked straight in and found myself amidst a howling and raging
crowd of men, who had stopped work, and were freely assaulting any
supervisor they saw. I too was surrounded by a band of people shouting,
‘Maro Shalako Maro (Kill the wretched fellow)’, and all that. I had to
gather my wits, do some quick thinking, and handle the situation extempore
to soothe their frayed tempers. I was a relatively unknown figure inside the
plant, and now dressed in white khadi shirt and shorts might have further
added to their doubt about my identity. Anyway, they left no room for me to
escape. Those days I used to smoke cigar. I stood up on a stool and asked
the noisiest man in the front, ‘Maachis hai? (You’ve a match?)’. They
thought here was a man, who was about to be killed, and was asking for
matches. All my education at Oxford had not taught me how to deal with
this kind of situation. Again I repeated, ‘Maachis hai,maachis?’ I could see
that they were surprised but they gave me a match. And probably I took the
longest time in my life to light a cigar. Finally, when it was lit, I asked,
‘Kya hai? Kya taqleef hai? (What is it? What’s the problem?)’. They started
talking to me and stopped shouting. Then I said, ‘Baitho na’, and they sat
down. After a while I said, ‘Leave now, I’ll see you tomorrow.’ They
followed my command and went away. Within an hour or two every
department in the Company wanted my presence and for four days and four
nights I never put my head on a pillow. I was wanted by every departmental
head to pacify the crowds that were up in arms. And we could restore
normalcy and peace in just a week’s time! JRD came rushing from Bombay,
so did Sir Dalal. I was firmly in charge of the labour situation. Now, of
course, I wonder if this is one incident I need to be grateful for.”
Before you question him, how he managed to retain his cool, he tells
you bluntly: “To this day, I have not found a plausible explanation, as to
why things took a turn the way they did. Quite frankly, it was a question of
saving my own skin. My Hindi, which is quite fluent now, was practically
nonexistent at that point of time. I did not know what to say or do,
surrounded by thousands and thousands of people. I can assure you I was
neither cool nor calm; I didn’t know what I was doing. Would anybody in
his senses ask for a match in the midst of this sort of a violent situation,
with thousands of people shouting? The moral of the story is perhaps that
there’s a relationship between human beings which is inexplicable. I can’t
explain it, it is God-given. If I asked for a match in the middle of this utter
chaos, would it have stopped a revolution? How do I describe that? How do
I answer that? It can only be an act of God.”
A dapper Russi at work
Expending his oratorical skills
 With mentor JRD Tata and his wife Thelma

With the formidable boss Sir Jehangir Ghandy and his wife Lady
Roshan
Brushing shoulders with ace industrialists (L-R): LN Birla,Ramaswamy
Mudaliyar and KK Birla

With the delegates of International Coal Conference inspection tour

(standing between the two rows) to Miike coal mines in Kyushu,1963
 From wines to the mines
Illustration: Courtesy Russi Mody
At a cultural do with the families of mine workers: “No industrial or
personnel relations can ever be a substitute for human relations.”

Now which memento is this? Russi has lost count.

 “You may outwit your Union,but in the long run you are outwitting
yourself... You must not take advantage of this indiscriminately.”

At the Xavier Labour Relation Institute,Jamshedpur: “What is ‘man-

management’? That one must behave most naturally with any human
being.”
“To acknowledge workers’ dignity and self-respect should remain
supreme.”

 
 “All we have to do is to make people feel that they truly belong to the
industry,and they are not mere ticket numbers.”

This was a turning point that also made Russi reflect: “The ultimate aim
of all industrial relations should be the welfare of the workers leading to
higher production and prsoductivity for the benefit of the nation. And to
achieve this, both labour and management have to play a responsible role.
All that I told those angry workers was that I would personally look into
their grievances. So some of them could come and talk to me. They asked
me, ‘Will you personally do that?’ I said, ‘Yes.’ That simple commitment
was good enough for the howling to subside; the tension eased as they felt
comforted and reassured. The workers could immediately sense that I meant
business, but first and foremost, I had their interest at heart.” This keen
sense of concern and a true comprehension of the system was what led him
to take such a drastic step, and walk in alone among a crowd of volatile
workers. He was armed with nothing but his conviction and belief in justice
and fair play to help him sort out this troubled situation. His deep
understanding of ‘human resource development’ turned into a one-man
personnel department which stood the test of time. Whatever fancy position
he held in Tisco, Russi essentially remained a super ‘Director Personnel’
whom workers, supervisors and unions would seek out as their first and last
resort.
And one thing that certainly struck him was the way he had sallied forth
in Hindi to appeal to the workers for peace. But could he impress them in a
language spoken so ungrammatically and words pronounced incorrectly?
Russi conveys that right communication can transcend the language barrier:
“I spoke English, French and Gujarati. Since Gujarati was my langu-age, it
isn’t too far apart from Hindi. So I picked it up. There is no particular point
at which I could say that now I am a Hindi speaker. It so happened that the
workers understood me alright. When you meet a person, language is the
last thing he worries about. If he likes you, all problems disappear. But if he
dislikes you, he is not going to like you even if you maybe the best Hindi
expert.”
It was a momentous decision for JRD. Russi was deputed as Director of
Personnel in 1953. This young man, who did not seem so impressive to
JRD that he was studying History, when he met him first at a family get-
together way back in 1935, knew what was coming his way – a lifetime
prospect to pull off his potential. Being given the charge of looking into the
personnel matters of the mines and collieries, Russi’s innate knack to
motivate employees ensured optimum utilisation of the workforce in
Company’s operations. Building close affinity with workers was
accomplished in a fairly short span. The affable Russi made friends quite
effortlessly and inspired them to render their best. And what really made
him stand tall amongst the other big bosses was nothing but his humane
approach.
As chance would have it, a lot of turbulence was still in the air. During
this period, a milk vendor had inadvertently treaded upon the flowerbed in
the bungalow of a senior executive of Tisco. Realising the damage he had
caused, he immediately retraced his steps, but the officer subjected him to
tongue lash that far exceeded his mistake. The offended vendor reported the
matter to a union leader, who in turn, complained to Russi, and he lost no
time in making the officer apologise. His rapport with labour at all levels
was not a skill acquired over the years, but instinctive, a gut feeling to
resolve conflict, dispose of grievances, initiate dialogue, and make them
feel a part of the management process. He shared JRD’s intrinsic belief that
it’s the man in any enterprise and not a soulless machine that must
predominate. So, “the quality on shop-floor and quality of life at home
could not be disproportionate”.
In Russi’s lexicon, the greatest asset of any industry is its workforce,
and that every management owes its success to its workers’ morale. So to
preserve industrial peace and harmony, it is the total commitment to
employees’ welfare that is needed the most. This hypothesis of Russi never
failed him: “Napoleon once said that morale is to all other factors as 4 is to
1. And I have an almost rabid belief in the truth of this dictum.” Better
industrial relations proved its efficacy with constant rise in production and
productivity. But all along Russi reinforced that it is not the statistical
figures but the workers and management’s attitude towards workers that
distinguishes a Company: “Notwithstanding any adverse situation, the
commitment that labour has to management and the management towards
labour should be firm. The fact that we didn’t have any stoppage of work or
a single day’s strike for over fifty years speaks for itself. In a big industry in
the modern world with a litany of tensions, it’s quite a remarkable
achievement. That is what makes a Company great.”
Over the years, Russi adhered to the oft-quoted but rarely followed
Biblical saying, ‘Do unto others as you would have them do unto you’: “I
sincerely followed this, in letter and spirit, and it has stood me in good
stead. Dealing with labour, and over a 100,000 workforce under me in
various companies, I never gave them a chance to feel that they be
discontented. Communication in the right perspective is essential for right
kind of understanding. So, the place to start is you, that is, us. We have to
start with our-selves, because if we are trying to convey to the employees,
to the shareholder, to the public, to the government, whosoever one may
have to deal with in the industry, one’s own personal credibility is of
paramount importance. Whether you are the chairman, the managing
director of a corporation, or just a manager, whenever you are dealing with
other human beings, the importance of your own credibility being as high as
possible is undeniable.” This humanitarian view of Russi further enhanced
his repute as a most caring executive of the Company, who never indulged
in any kind of discrimination.
Decades later, in March 1985, when he was conferred the honorary life
membership of National Institute of Personnel Management, Russi, in his
address, advised aspiring personnel managers to always keep in mind the
five Cs: Character, Credibility, Conscience, Courage, and Compassion. And
when Russi was asked after the Vikram Sarabhai Memorial Lecture
delivered by him at Indian Institute of Management in Ahmedabad in
January 1990, “Credibility is a nice enough word, but what does it really
mean?” and thus came the answer:
It means that when you say something to another human being, he
may disagree with you, but he will not disbelieve you, that you have
said some-thing to pull a fast one. He will think that you are as
genuine in your belief as he maybe in not agreeing with you, but he
believes you nevertheless. To establish that is not something that
you can just proclaim in a notice to your employees saying, ‘From
now on, I have the highest credibility and everybody must believe
me.’ You have to start by doing things which are credible. For, what
does an employee look forward to in an industrial organisation? He
wants fair play, he wants good wages, he wants to be well looked
after and, above all, he wants human dignity. All these you can
practise or you can talk to him about. Most of us claim, ‘I am a fair
employer, I am an enlightened employer.’ But how many of us
practise it? Along with credibility, must go courage and compassion.
Any manager, at whatever level he maybe, has to possess these
qualities if he is to be successful. And how does one achieve
credibility? The most important way is to be accessible, and to have
channels of communication. A challenge of three plain words, a
 forum where the employee can say what he wishes to, without the
employer taking umbrage, encouraging dissent, if necessary, so that
he may understand that in a democracy, he has a right to say what he
wishes to although he has no right to disobey the instructions given
to him by his superior. This has to be conveyed to him, and his
education has to be complete in this manner by a variety of things.
Now that was fairly innovative, as most organisations across the world
actually do their utmost to stamp out dissent. But Michael Roberto has
penned in Why Great Leaders Don’t Take Yes For An Answer, that the best
bosses encourage debate and dissension. And also concedes that “Managers
feel uncomfortable expressing dissent, groups converge quickly on a
particular solution, and individuals assume that unanimity exists when, in
fact, it does not. As a result, critical assumptions remain untested, and
creative alternatives do not surface or receive adequate attention.” Russi’s
take on this issue: “I presume leadership is a quality which attracts other
people towards you. And that is not by the virtue of your position or wealth.
Rather it is an inherent quality which is within you. I personally believe that
leadership cannot be taught.”
Russi’s interface with people and situations, and the way he handled
them, led to his transfer to office administration, where again he honed his
skills gaining new insights. As he metamorphosed into a ‘management
guru’, his steady climb up the corporate ladder became even steadier,
moving from one position to another – Deputy Agent, Calcutta, in charge of
Collieries (1955), Director Raw Materials (1965), Director of Operations
(1966), Director of Tata Industries (1966), Director Tisco (1968), Joint
Managing Director (1972), Managing Director (1974), Vice Chairman and
Managing Director (1979) and, finally, Chairman and Managing Director.
And each tenure was duly marked by his performance in the arena of
human relationship and astounding results earned him the sobriquet as ‘a
great human motivator.’ Not only those who worked closely with Russi, but
even the generation next that belongs to the present league of entrepreneurs,
like Sanjeev Goenka, subscribes to the same view. Opines Goenka, “He is
the greatest of all human motivators I have ever met or even heard of. The
importance of someone like Russi Mody never ceases with time. He would
always be an asset to any industry.”
 Once Russi was travelling in his car and he was advised to take another
route, as the union leader Nirmal Mahanta was holding an agitation against
Tisco. But he insisted on going the same way, chose to meet Mahanta and
told him, “Please meet me in my office, but I want to talk to you here.” The
essential core of Russi’s success was his basic creed that “No industrial or
personnel relations can ever be a substitute for human relations. You may
outwit your Union, but in the long run you are outwitting yourself. You
must not take advantage of this indiscriminately. One must build up the
Union, because that is what in the long run is going to deliver the goods – a
strong centralised Union dealing with a good enlightened Management.
That concept should not be destroyed by any individual antics.”
His hands-on experience taught him a lesson which perhaps no tome
could. His support for the Tata Workers’ Union created a climate of change
that in every way proved to be conducive to building of trust between the
Management and the Union. This is what eventually led to the growth of
the Company. The late VG Gopal, President of Tata Workers’ Union, once
recapped his various interactions with Russi, “In my dealings with him for
more than four decades, I have not come back disappointed on any genuine
issue that I have taken up with him. I have all the admiration for his
straight-forwardness and for his sincere approach in considering the
genuine complaints of the employees.” This concern for the welfare of the
workforce became evident when Russi agreed to implement with
retrospective effect, the agreement between steel industry and the Joint
Plant Committee, even though the National Joint Committee itself was not
ready to do so. Precisely because he didn’t want to deprive the workers of
their legitimate claim!
Russi prescribed this panacea to raise the flagging zeal of workers: “In
Tisco, we had a system of closer worker association with management. First
of all, the word ‘participation’ is not understood in our country.
Participation basically means co-determination, and co-determination
means that at every level of management, the chairman and the managing
director, the general manager, the executive directors, all have to sit around
with their counterparts of the Union and take joint decisions. This sort of
participation can come about only if it is desirable. There are many trade
unionists in the world who think it is not desirable. But if it is desirable, it
can come about only after a massive dose of education has been given, not
only in the trade union movement, but also to management people who are
not accustomed to co-determining things, as they have been accustomed to
passing orders.”
 
 
HERE’S THE CRUX OF MATTERS CORPORATE, as Russi reiterates,
“Merely putting two-three directors on the boards of companies is not
‘participation’ in management at all. That would only lead to more and
more suspicion between the two sides and end up in fracas. Having said that
against the system of participation in management, let me also say it quite
clearly that the experiment that we’ve had at Jamshedpur, where we had a
very close association of workers and management, it paid dividends in
gold. We benefited enormously from this association. There is hardly a
subject which I did not discuss with the president of the Union (though
there are one or two subjects that I did not discuss with my own board of
directors). I discussed my problems with him; he discussed his problems
with me. It is an association, voluntary and alive, and it has to grow from
below. The worker wants to deal with his foreman, the foreman wants to
deal with his superintendent, and the superintendent wants to deal with the
union committee members. It has grown from below until it has now been
formalised in various committees. But the basic idea is to provide a forum
where the worker associates himself with management and makes his views
felt, and the management associates with the worker and makes its views
felt. They then jointly reach a consensus on a vast number of subjects. That
has accrued very handsome results. Today a worker can walk into the office
of superintendent or a manager and say, ‘Sir, I wish to talk something with
you. I have a solution to the problem. You please hear my suggestion.’ The
manager does not take offence, or take it amiss to listen to a khalasi giving
him a suggestion, as how to run a blast furnace. He has now been attuned to
believing that it is possible for a khalasi to have a suggestion just as much
as it ought to be for another scientist to have one. It may not really work out
that way, but an opportunity for self-expression is given. And that is where
human dignity is cultivated and cultured.”
As the saying goes, people have to grow if the organisation has to grow.
And that explains why Russi always wanted his workforce to keep pace
with the changing times: “I wanted all the people down the line, even the
most humble worker to want to do things differently from what he had been
doing. I didn’t want to give the sweeper a vacuum cleaner – but I wanted
the sweeper to say, ‘I want a vacuum cleaner’, only then would I give it to
him. I carried on with the refrain that only with that change of attitude could
we march into the twenty-first century.” Russi was among a handful of
captains of industry, who openly acknowledged the imperative need for an
employees’ union. He appreciated the issues raised by the Union and never
rejected them before giving due consideration. And giving free access to
workers to the management also meant that Russi sought their advice on
day-to-day operations of the plant. But when asked about the participation
of workers in decision-making, he called it an impractical pro-position.
“Such a proposition would be practically impossible to implement.
Decision-making is possible only between equals. Although there are very
fine and intelligent trade unionists, they do not have sufficient number of
people to put at various levels not only in one industry, but in various
industries to co-determine questions.”
In retrospect, he puts it down to his good fortune that he was “able to
express in words and actions the ardent desires of thousands of our working
class, who are constantly searching for a way to satisfy their needs without
resorting to confrontation. It would be equally true to say that whatever I
have achieved in the field of industrial relations, or even in the line of ‘man-
management’, has been perhaps, because I have been able to give a helping
hand in their journey through life”. As for his formal education on this
subject, Russi has quite honestly been known to admit, “None of us had
ever read books on Personnel Management. In fact, the plethora of books
that is now available on the subject was not mercifully written then. I must
make a confession, which many find difficult to believe that till now I have
not read a single book on the subject. A few chapters here and there, read
under duress, provided all the knowledge I have gleaned from the scribes.
But then, lack of academic knowledge did not deter us from going about
our task on an enthusiastic note.”
As Director of Personnel, Russi conducted his affairs based on his own
philosophy of Management, succinctly referred to as ‘The Three Cs’:
“Credibility with both peers and subordinates, the courage to follow one’s
convictions, and also have compassion for everyone, regardless of that
person’s position or status in life.” His vision went beyond just raising
production and productivity, as he engaged himself with other larger issues,
like mechanism for redressal of complaints, safety, promotion policy,
training and communication – a complete departure from the routine
practices that in earlier times tended to create an unholy barrier between the
higher echelons of management and workers. “I have always believed that
one must take care of others less fortunate than us”, was one fundamental
belief on which he rested his thesis of ‘man-management.’ That one must
behave most naturally with any human being. He pioneered the concept of
joint departmental councils to monitor the activities and discuss them
periodically, and that open interaction with workers was the ideal way to
sort out any critical problem in industry.
Among his quotable quotes was this assertion, “For many years now I
have waged an unsuccessful war against the advancing encroachment of
fancy theories and even fancier jargon in the field of personnel and
industrial relations. These have now reached such proportions that the
fundamental concept of dealing with human beings, which should be based
on the teaching of treating others as we would like to be treated by them,
seems to have been forgotten. I would, therefore, reaffirm my faith in this
concept which, at least so far as I am concerned, has given me a great deal
of personal satisfaction and yielded me tangible results.” The bottom line is
that this empathy with the worker, in Russi’s perception, makes it very easy
to deal with him “as your feelings prompt you”.
Relating one such incident he says, “One day I was in the coal fields. It
was a nice, wintry, sunny day, and I thought I would like to take a massage.
I thought why should I take it in my bedroom, I would rather take it in the
garden. I called over my masseur and I was being massaged in the garden.
As massage is time-consuming, I thought why not finish some work as
well. So, I had my secretary, my assistants, and everybody around me. We
were discussing various problems. In the mean time, some noise of a crowd
from outside was growing – shouting all kinds of slogans against the
management, against me, and against everything else. As it was a huge
crowd, my assistants got a little panicky and they turned to me, ‘Sir, what
do we do now?’ I said, ‘Nothing. Let them shout.’ ‘What about the police?’
they asked. I said, ‘Don’t be silly. Don’t ask for the police.’ They said, ‘But
we must do something.’ I said, ‘No, nothing at the moment.’ So, I kept on
being massaged. We went on with our discussion, though we were getting
jittery with this massive crowd gathering outside and seemed quite hostile.
Finally, they came to the gate and started shouting, ‘Mody Saab, come out,
Mody Saab, this thing and that thing.’ The men around me said, ‘What do
we do now?’ I said, ‘Let them in, of course.’ They came in, shouting,
‘Where is Mody Saab?’ And they reached the place where I was being
massaged in the garden. ‘Is this Mody Saab?’ I said ‘Yes.’ They said, ‘Sir,
you carry on and take rest. We are going.’ And they went away. In this case,
just letting them in and not reacting or resisting defused the matter.”
 
 
IT IS A WELL ACCEPTED NOTION that being popular among the
workers is quite a task for the management personnel in top echelons. When
the steel town was having trouble with the workers and Chairman JRD Tata
was advised by the senior most executives not to enter the pre-mises as they
couldn’t have vouched for his safety, Russi personally drove JRD around
while assuring his superiors that the chairman would be hailed as ‘Tata Saab
ki jai’. True, the striking workers greeted him with joy and Russi’s
confidence in his men bowled over JRD. Such popularity in the mass base
is bound to create envy among the colleagues and seniors alike. On many
an occasion, he was harassed and pushed around that he even considered
calling it quits. It was rumoured that one of the top brass in a blue-chip
company was keen to hire him. But Russi was sent word by one of the
Tisco directors not to take any drastic step and leave in a huff.
Once when Russi was at his bungalow in Jamshedpur, a group of Tisco
workers was seen approaching his residence. The security guards closed the
gate of the main entrance as they apprehended some trouble. But no sooner
were they asked by Russi to open it. They discovered these workers had
come for a ‘darshan ’ (glimpse) of their living idol, Mody Saab, who never
liked his subordinates greeting him with folded hands. He disliked this
mode of greeting and always preferred a handshake: “Many such ordinary
things came to me naturally. But you will be surprised, what a mere
handshake can do to motivate the workforce,” he states sharing this
incident. “I have always been wary of this business of ‘Salaam’ and
‘Namaste’, that one human being should be saluting or folding his hands to
another. I think this should only be done before God and nobody else. But I
kept with the tradition because I knew the whole of India was doing it. And
one day I was talking to the workers in the plant, when a fellow I knew
came and joined us. He greeted me, ‘Namaste Saab’. I said, ‘Kya namaste
namaste kar rahe ho...haath milao.’ So he shook my hand. After three days,
every time I went into the plant I had to come home and put my hands
under hot water because everybody there wanted to shake my hand. Now,
when I made this gesture, I made it very casually. I had no idea it would
have such an electric effect. In fact, some months later I went to the
collieries some sixty miles away to inaugurate a school, and saw a group of
women sitting in the sun. I thought I would go and talk to them later. In the
meanwhile, I went inside, cut the ribbon, made my speech, and came out.
They were still waiting there. I said to myself, ‘I must go over and say
namaste to them.’ I went up to them and said, ‘Namaste,kaise hain?’ But all
these old women got up and said, ‘Hi!’ I was so taken aback. That was
really my British education and I blended it with the Indian tradition.”
To Russi, a formal association could never match the warmth of a
relationship based on mutual respect and understanding. That’s what
compassion is all about. Once he turned down an employee’s demand for a
kidney transplant which would have cost the management two lakh of
rupees and yet the chances of his survival might have been slim. But the
Good Samaritan in Russi got the better of the astute administrator who
could not have granted the request to create a precedent. He rang up the
Director (Personnel & Administration) to say that he had not been able to
eat his lunch, since he had rejected an employee’s request for a kidney
transplant: “Please sanction the necessary funds immediately.” And Russi
had his first morsel only after the request was acceded to.
And once a crane operator, while lifting some materials dropped them
on the shop-floor accidentally. It caused huge damage to the extent of a few
lakh of rupees. The operator was accused of being inattentive and sacked by
the General Superintendent, Operations. The poor man decided to meet
Mody Saab on his last working day and explain how the mishap had taken
place. Given his description, the matter got crystallised and Russi realised it
was sheer accident, not an act of carelessness. He advised the operator to
meet him the following day. Meanwhile, he asked the HRD officer to send
the personal file of the retrenched operator and found that he was among the
best crane operators in the entire plant. He sent a note to the official
concerned suggesting that the operator had to be retained and the Company
needed his services. However, as all the necessary action had been taken to
clear his financial dues, the superintendent requested Russi to reconsider his
decision. Russi wrote back, “A genuine and sincere person should never be
punished in the organisation.” The crane operator was saved from being
retrenched and got back his job.
His concern for the employees was so acute, that he would not spare
any expense to give them the very best. Much before the advent of
disposable needles at the Dental Clinic in Jamshedpur, Russi ensured that a
regular injection needle would be used only once, ever since it was brought
to his notice that how this practice would secure more hygiene for the
patients. He duly instructed that if anybody asked the doctor to use a needle
more often, he should say that he was following Russi’s orders to throw it
away after using it for one patient. Given his truly international outlook,
when the Royal Dental College, Denmark, expressed a desire to send their
final year students to the Dental Clinic at the Tata Main Hospital every
summer, Russi readily agreed to the proposal. And this programme became
so popular that the students had to compete to be sponsored by their
college. So was his active support and close involvement with Tisco’s
‘Smallpox Eradication Programme’ that made it a great success in the
1970s.
Russi changed the lives of many individuals as well. Raj Kumar used to
sit on the pavement of Sakhci Boulevard, one of the busiest streets of
Jamshedpur, mending and shining shoes. He had this seething ambition to
work in the Tisco plant, and if his desire was fulfilled, he would get
married, raise a family and live happily. Thanks to Russi, Raj Kumar got a
job in the plant and realised his desire to make a decent living, for
competent workers always found his support. Come what may, Russi stood
behind them. At all times and in all circumstances, he just remained
himself, with the well-being of people around him being his prime
preoccupation. Nothing disturbed him more than the sight of anyone
suffering. One morning, as Russi drove to his office, he saw a lady standing
outside his gate. She told him that she was very ill and could not afford
proper treatment. He made her sit in his car and brought her to the Tata
Main Hospital, and made sure she was taken to the medical officer, and
conveyed that the bills were to be sent to him personally.
It was sometime in the early sixties that Russi was sipping his cuppa in
a coffee shop (at the present site of Yash Kamal Complex) in front of
Bombay Sweets in Bishtupur area in Jamshedpur. He suddenly noticed a
waiter, a young man of barely twenty, serving other regulars. What
impressed him about this lad was that he never looked hassled during the
rush hour. Russi waved at him and as the young man drew nearer, he asked
him, “Do you know Russi Mody?” “No sir, I don’t, but I have heard of him.
I often overhear them talking about him (waving his hands towards the
other visitors present there). I am very familiar with this name,” replied the
waiter. “I’m Russi. Anyway, do you want to join Tisco?” he asked him. The
youngster was zapped. Did he hear that right? He told him meekly, “Sir, I
come of a very poor family, where I am the sole breadwinner; whatever I
earn from here is too little, so if I get an opening in such a big organisation,
it would save my family from penury.” Russi handed over his visiting card
and said, “Come and meet me in my office.” The young waiter met him the
following day and got a new lease of life as an employee in the canteen of
Tisco.
Once Russi was going to Jamshedpur in his favourite Merc and at the
traffic signal a young dwarf knocked on his car window. Russi asked him,
“Kya maangta? (What do you want?).” He said, “Paisa chahiye. (Want
money).” He asked him again, “Kaam karega? Jamshedpur ayega? (Will
you work? Will you come to Jamshedpur?).” And Russi gave him too his
visiting card. This little fellow really turned up at his office, but he wouldn’t
be allowed to meet the big boss. Finally the matter came up to Russi’s
secretary and she asked him if he had given his card to some dwarf. He
said, “Yes”, and asked her, “Is he here?” It tickled his funny bone and Russi
attached this midget as an errand boy to the seven-feet tall basket-ball
player, Sunil Panda, an employee of Tisco. There was much amusement in
the corridors and Russi described this pair as ‘long and short of it’. But
behind this light-hearted gesture was his earnest feeling to help someone
who was physically challenged.
There’s a flurry of such tales, and one more nugget comes from RP
Singh, the former vigilance officer of Tisco, his eyes moistened with
emotion. “I don’t know what would have happened to my life if Mody Saab
had not been around to save me from a dangerous situation”, says a grateful
Singh who resigned in 1967, owing to some personal reason, and joined
Durgapur Steel Plant. Singh’s life was running smoothly till he found
himself entangled in a political problem, and felt there was some threat to
his life. As Singh was known to Labanya Ghatak, the influential trade union
leader of Indian National Trade Union Congress, he suggested that he
should get back to Mody Saab, the only man who could possibly save him
from any impending disaster. Singh followed his advice and met Russi
explaining how he had run into a difficult situation. A pleasant surprise
awaited him, as Russi not only received him warmly but also offered him
his old job in Tisco itself. “RP! Where had you been for so long, I was
looking for you”, was his first reaction. “It was like a reunion between a
father and son”, recalls Singh, and how Mody Saab always stood by anyone
in distress and restored peace in his life.
Russi never looked aloof, for he never maintained distance. To the older
folks he was like a young kinsman, and a friendly guide to the younger
workers who could confide in him. There was one such incident when he
was addressing a gathering, but he was asked to come to another place
where there was a greater need for his speech. So he went there, and saw a
large group waiting for him. As he started talking to them, he suddenly felt
a wooden stick hit him hard on his shins. Much to his surprise, it was a
female worker standing there. She had only one leg, the other one was
wooden. She said, “Hum log ke saath mein pehle baat karo (You have to
talk to us first).” The despairing old woman perhaps became impatient to
talk to Russi because his uninhibited interaction with the workers had
testified to the fact that he was succour to the needy.
 
 
HE BROUGHT ABOUT AN INCREDIBLE turnaround on being elevated
to the rank of Deputy Agent of Collieries, and posted at Calcutta with the
charge of Jamadoba collieries, as these collieries were making losses and
suffered negligence owing to lack of proper direction. Personally checking
out the coalfields to acquaint himself with the problems, he made it a point
to visit the collieries four days a week. When Russi went there and saw the
condition of the employees, he immediately assessed the situation and
asked them, “Tum log kya mangta hai? (What is your demand?)” The
workers would await his visit, as his amenable presence gave them a great
sense of joy. In fact, he became their real-life icon. Endowed as he was,
with sincerity of purpose, Russi lost no time in taking action to improve the
living standards of colliery workers and initiated many such requisite steps.
He knew how important a comfortable home was to them to relax with their
families after a hard day’s work. So a programme for renovation of the
existing quarters and erection of some new ones with proper amenities was
taken up. Jamadoba got water and medical facilities and one of the best
sports field.
Sensitive enough to realise that grumbling workers could not possibly
give their best, he immediately worked out the revision of their existing pay
structure with benefits, like incentive bonus and other allowances. As he
puts it, “I never could advise them on their work because I was not a
technical person. So, their outlook on me was that here was a person who
didn’t talk to them about work all the time. It was their personal life that I
always approached and that had remarkable effect on their output.” What
really flummoxed the workers was that how could a management guy be
speaking on their behalf? In his frequent visits to the collieries, he reached
out to the roots of problems and resolved them in the quickest possible
time. Evenings would be spent in listening to the workers’ woes, and he
would play with their children as well. Thus mitigating this hierarchical gap
broke the ice that led to forming a lasting bond. Russi is still as loved and
revered by the colliery workers of Tisco.
When Russi was at Jamadoba mines, the engineers made a desperate
demand for air-conditioning in their hostel. And he countered them by
asking, “How many of you have had your education in England?” In fact,
none of them had. Then he said, “If coming straight from England to
Jamadoba, I can work in these conditions, why can’t you?” It was a
personal example and those engineers appreciated the logic. Of course, later
he ensured that the facility was provided to them, but it was a case of
leading from the front. “One must always lead from the front; one can’t stay
at the back and lead”, he contends.
At a mine in Noamundi, the smart and westernised graduate trainees
were known to be treated as sons-in-law of the Company. So Russi told
them that some minister had come to the guest house and he had conveyed
to Russi about the way those trainees floated around in the area. And that he
had told him he would enquire about it. Naturally these trainees were quite
worried about the complaint that the minister seemed to have filed against
them. Later on, they gathered that it was a plot concocted by none other
than Russi himself to curb their reckless behaviour, and the person who
came as a minister was a man who enacted the role as per Russi’s advice.
He wanted to teach them a lesson that they should behave decently.
Much later in 2001, as the founder-chairman of Graduate School of
Business and Administration, while addressing a bright crop of
professionals at Indian Institute of Management in Calcutta, Russi
cautioned them that “the pursuit of mammon should never be the overriding
concern in one’s life”. He also sought to rectify the impression that some
people quoted him saying he’s against IIMs and B-schools: “I am not
against them. All I say is that a student after engineering or graduation
should go first to the industry, and gain a work exposure of three-four years.
Thereafter, if the Company feels he has the leadership abilities, or the skill
set in him to be a successful manager, then that Company should at its own
behest and expense send him for management education. This way the
student gets to interact and comprehend much of what goes on in a B-
school classroom. Also if majority of students have had some exposure to
the industry, the atmosphere at the IIMs would be a lot more different too.
But I certainly wonder about job loyalty, what with the now commonly
accepted phenomenon of constant job-switching.” And he’s as bewildered
by the sudden demand for MBAs, “if it is supply-driven, or whether MBAs
are coercing the industry into hiring them for their so-called better skills set
to compensate for the two years they spend in slogging for their degree?”
One day, Russi summoned a young apprentice, TR Doongaji at Tisco,
and told him that the piano chair in his drawing room required to be
upholstered with the same tapestry as had been used for the other furniture
pieces in the room. It was nerve-racking that the task had to be completed in
all respects by five the same evening, as some guests were expected. Aware
of the ensuing lunch hour when one could get no help at short notice for
love or money, the improbability of getting the same tapestry material and
completing the job in just four to five hours compelled him to tell Russi that
it was impossible to achieve what he wanted. He heard him patiently and
merely said, “What you have explained are your problems; I want the chair
ready in time.” Needless to say, the chair was ready half an hour before
schedule. The next day when this lad proudly enquired about the timely
completion of the job, he learnt a precious lesson in the words of Russi: “I
could have done without that chair. All that I wanted you to learn was that
you can even achieve the impossible if you want it badly enough!”

Forging men of steel at Tisco

 
Oh,that rakish look!
In South of France! That’s the place to be.
In the naval gear
 Sailors can be pirates too

Sharing his love for aviation with JRD Tata – the first Indian to get a
flying license
The Company jet at his disposal

Always flying high

 
“Sports teach you a great deal...how to take a defeat sportingly.”

 
The adventurous streak: Hot ballooning
  

Golfing: Quite a master at the use of the putter

  

Ever vigilant
 Businessman of the year 1983
And when Rajeev Dubey, an alumnus of Delhi School of Economics,
took the plunge into the corporate sector after swearing to himself that his
first assignment after completing his probation with Tata Administrative
Service would be as executive assistant to the managing director of Tata
Steel, the fabled Russi Mody, he landed in Jamshedpur fairly apprehensive,
since he had heard of the ‘Mody Administrative Service’. And Dubey was
bemused as Russi asked him outright in the interview: “Why do you have a
beard? Don’t you have a chin? Why do you want to work at Tisco, and
where do you want to be posted?” A dazed Dubey met Russi’s probing gaze
and replied that he wanted to be his executive assistant. Much to his
surprise, Russi consented readily. After a long haul at Tata Steel, Dubey
stated how he had assimilated all the finer nuances of this ‘visionary’ in
terms of “management focus, inter-personal skills, incisive application,
punctuality and promptness”.
One more observation comes from Tony Singh who got to know Russi
since she was heading the economic wing of the US Consulate in Calcutta.
Compiling annual reports on the steel industry in India meant that she had
to meet him quite often for the inputs. What impressed Singh was that in
her first fifteen-minute interview with him in Jamshedpur, the time he gave
her was cent percent devoted to her with no intervention by any secretary,
phone calls, or his flipping through files on a cluttered table: “Everything
was so orderly and I felt so important, as he gave me full attention. Then he
told me, if I had any problem with my stay at the Tisco guest house, I
should personally let him know. I was stunned. I think it’s his attitude and
concern that wins people over.” On another occasion when she visited the
Jamadoba mines, she was amazed to see the five-star rooms with not a
speck of dust. “He was so fetish about everything being spic and span to the
last bit”, she marvels.
 
 
RUSSI’S ABSOLUTE FOCUS ON HUMAN relations paid off
handsomely even when he was given charge of the newly formed Raw
Materials Division in 1965. As Tisco’s Mining Division grew at a rapid
pace, Russi’s skills turned it into a new big family, as he brought about
many desirable changes in the workers’ lifestyle, with new housing
colonies, canteens, playgrounds and parks. The workers reciprocated
wholeheartedly to Russi’s gesture by surpassing the production target year
after year. Irrespective of where he was placed, Russi went on improving
the living conditions of his workers and met with record-breaking
performance with the workers and the management hitting it off, which, in
JRD’s words was ‘unique in Indian industry’. It became a legendary
example of industrial harmony. And the chairman of Indian Mining
Association,RH Wright,persuaded Russi “to be closely involved in all
matters affecting the industry, using his tremendous and varied talents”,
since he represented Tisco.
On several occasions, Russi, in the course of his trips from Jamadoba to
Sijua, would suddenly pick up a disgruntled man from among the workers,
make him sit in his car and try to find out the reason for his displeasure,
over a cup of tea in his office. This way he could gather information on
their day-to-day problems and their working conditions. The workers felt
free to confide in him: “You have to make yourself accessible. The worker
must feel that there is a place where he can go and pour out his frustration.
Now, if you allow that to happen in a large organisation with thousands of
people, you would never have any time to do any work of your own. So I
worked out a system, whereby I would see individual workers who wished
to see me at a certain time every day, say between 8 and 9 o’clock in the
morning. He would come into my room and the first thing I did was to give
him his dignity. He would sit down and, if I was having tea, I would offer it
to him. But I would ask him what he wanted to say to me. I would have a
couple of secretaries by my side to take down notes. Then, they would
make an enquiry about his complaint and he would get a letter signed by me
personally within ten-twelve days of his seeing me. I found that these
freewheeling chats became the most effective way to get to their hearts.
Sometimes they even called me up no matter how late or early to make a
complaint if there was one about, say the meal that was served in the
canteen.”
And Russi relates how a similar situation occurred when Tata Steel took
over the management of Tinplate Company of India Ltd, an organisation in
the red, which was failing even to pay wages to its employees. But he gave
priority to workers’ benefit over production. When he met the workmen and
the latter demanded a canteen facility, he sanctioned the same on the spot
saying “first things must be done first”. This at times gave the impression
that the management’s interests were being overlooked. But if any one
dared to bring it to his notice, Russi promptly rebuffed any such impression
saying, “The workman has a belly to fill.”
One more such action proved his knack for identifying the problem
areas. Here’s a fabulous example of how Russi dealt with a different
situation in a different manner, as he substantiates, “After we took over the
management of the Metal Box Bearings Division, I paid my first visit to
that Division, and I was greeted with black flags and all kinds of things.
The Union which consisted of very bright and young so-called communists
greeted me by saying, ‘Meet our demands…this thing and that…’ I called
them into a room and said, ‘What is your demand? What do you want?’
They said, ‘We don’t get this and that …’ After I heard them out for five
minutes, I started to smile and then laughed. So they said, ‘You are laughing
at us. You are ridiculing us.’ I said, ‘Yes, if you want me to be honest I am.’
They asked, ‘Why?’ I said, ‘Because you are very stupid.’ They said, ‘What
stupidity? How dare you call us stupid?’ I said, ‘Now listen, you want some
demands to be met.’ (Their demands came to Rs 1.5 lakh in all, for a force
of 250 people). You are stupid because you don’t know how to ask.’ They
said, ‘What do you mean, how to ask?’ I said, ‘You put forward this sort of
demand to the management when I am coming here for the first time.’ They
had asked for some Rs 401 to be raised to Rs 801 in leave travel
concession. I said, ‘Don’t be silly. Ask for Rs 1000.’ I mentioned the figure
and saw their jaw practically drop. I said, ‘Yes’. They said, ‘No, you are
making fun of us.’ I said, ‘No, I will give you Rs 1000. What is the next
item?’ They said, ‘Our wages or so and so.’ I gave them about 25 to 30 per
cent more. After an hour or so, against their demand for Rs 1.5 lakh, I gave
them Rs 11.5 lakh. They could not believe their ears; they could not believe
that anybody could deal with them in this manner. They had never met a
management like this. As they were about to leave, I said, ‘You stop now
and sit down. I have two demands on you.’ ‘Sir, say what they are.’ I said,
‘I want absolute discipline from you…no more processions, no more
placards…absolute dis-cipline and maximum production. Within two
months you must raise production to full capacity utilisation.’ Till that time
they had never produced more than 50 per cent. In two months, they
doubled up the production and gave me 100 per cent. I made lakhs and
lakhs of rupees courtesy their enormous effort, and all I gave them was just
Rs 10 lakh more than what they had asked for. I strongly believe that if you
want something, you must give something in return. It’s a give and take and
that’s what human relationship is all about.”
Russi was setting an interesting but unique precedent as he would
invariably ‘instigate’ the workers to ask for something: “We started a
campaign to have better and better quality steel. Of course, we were going
to ask our workers to have ‘Quality Control Circle’ and all sorts of things,
but I thought of an idea. When I addressed the workers at a big rally, I said,
‘Look, the management is asking you for quality, but you ask the
management to improve the quality of your life before you can give them
quality.’ They said, ‘But what will you do?’ By this time we could talk to
one another freely. I said, ‘I will do all kinds of things. You just demand.’
So, when they met the General Manager the next time, they said, ‘Sir,
improve the quality of our life.’ The General Manager asked, ‘What do you
want?’ They said, ‘We don’t know that. Ask Mody Saab?’ When I talk
about human values in management, all I am talking about is the pride of
the worker. Once he gets that, the Indian worker, who is a warm-hearted
creature, will give you anything you want. This is borne out by my own
interaction, though it is not so easy to practise. All this springs from within.
In a way, it is egotistic for me to say so, for the fact remains that I was
never educated as an engineer or an economist or a legal expert. I had no
profession. So, naturally, for want of anything better to do, I happened to
like human beings and all this emanates from that particular feeling. An
individual, who’s involved in engineering, or in the legal profession, or in
the economic profession, may not have the same inclination.”
And from this experiment of his, Russi learnt to build a system that
would depend less on the individuals and more and more on itself, and
promote the belief “that in management, the human being is paramount, that
his dignity is more important than production or profit”.
There’s yet one more exhorting example. When the Ferro-Manganese
Plant incurred an accumulated loss of Rs 8 crore despite all-out efforts of
eight general managers to mop it up, the matter was referred to Russi. He
solved the problem quite magically, as he recounts with a smile: “They said
the men were dissatisfied and unhappy. I asked. ‘How many of them are
there?’ They said, ‘450’. I said, ‘All right, I am going to the Director’s
Bungalow and you send fifty at a time. As I went and sat there, the first
batch came. They had never seen the inside of a Director’s Bungalow. I
said, ‘Sit down on the carpet.’ Very soon, white uniformed waiters served
them coffee and cold drinks. They did not know whether to pick up the
glass or not. They looked puzzled. Then, after a while, I asked, ‘Tell me,
what is it?’ Not a response. Ten minutes went by, fifteen minutes went by,
and I could not get a word out of them. They were all at sea. I was
despairing when one fellow came to my rescue and said, ‘Sir, we don’t get
helmets.’ I turned to the manager and asked, ‘Don’t you give them
helmets?’ He said, ‘Sir, they’re expensive. We have already made a loss of
Rs 8 crore.’ I said, ‘Not at all, give them helmets.’ I have a very good
mathematical sense of how much I am giving away at any time. So, I made
a mental calculation and said, ‘Give them helmets.’ The manager said,
‘Sir?’ I insisted, ‘Give them helmets.’ Emboldened by this, the next fellow
said, ‘Sir, we don’t get shoes.’ The manager pulled me at the sleeve and
said, ‘Sir, they are very expensive.’ I asked, ‘You don’t get shoes? Give
them shoes. You don’t get aprons? Give them aprons.’ And various other
things costing a total of about Rs 4 lakh were sanctioned on the spot in this
particular manner. The manager was being fanned because he was about to
suffer a heart attack. Within three months, production, which had never
been more than 50 per cent, not only doubled but an additional 30 per cent
was obtained from that plant. And, in two years, we wiped out the complete
loss of Rs 8 crore, for the material produced by this plant was expensive,
and the production was very high. We never looked back since that day.”
The message he sends across is that you do not wait for a demand. “You
wait to see what is wrong. In this case, the demands came but they were not
demands. What they really meant was, ‘Nobody cares for us; nobody is
worried about our comforts and discomforts.’ When you settle it in a
manner like this, the effect is emotive. Many people give away the same
thing, but what is most important is how you give these things and when
you give them, i.e. the timing is far too crucial.” And that in his perception
happens when free and frank discussions clear the air. Being a proponent of
open dialogue, Russi would always listen to any suggestion from any
quarter. So a speedy system to redress grievances of employees got
established.
Once Russi happened to be paying a visit to West Bokaro, a small
colliery situated about sixty kilometres north of Ranchi. And so were the
final year students of Mining Engineering undertaking a survey camp here.
At the dinner hosted by H Niyogi, the Chief Executive of West Bokaro,
Russi got formally introduced to Dilip Sen, the professor who had
accompanied this batch of students. Russi, however, felt that something was
amiss. He made enquiries and found out, rather to his dismay, that none of
the students had been invited to this elaborate dinner. He left the party on
that cold winter night at 10 o’clock and headed straight for the students’
camp. These youngsters wondered who was this stocky, fair, short
gentleman coming to see them at this odd hour? Russi made himself
comfortable on one of the trunks since the students had their beds on the
floor, and chatted with them for almost an hour. After a while, when he felt
the moment had finally arrived, he popped a question if some of them
would like to join Tisco. It was his ability to connect, and his comfort level
that panned across all segments. Like EM Forster said, “Only connect!”
 
 
IT MUST HAVE BEEN HIS KEEN interest in moulding the youth that
Russi gave his consent to become the Chairman of the Board of Governors
of Indian Institute of Technology, Kharagpur, in the 1980s. While some
questioned the appropriateness of getting a man from the industrial world to
run a premier educational institute, the Director of the institute Professor
KL Chopra justified that Russi’s presence wouldn’t have been more
befitting in such an institution “where the choicest student raw materials are
assembled in an institution factory to be processed by teacher-workers, and
the finished products are made available to the highest bidder”.
As Russi influenced the Board of Governors, and convinced them of his
commitment to excel, they were soon acquainted with his messianic zeal for
a healthy work ethos and the students were thrilled whenever they were
able to have certain no-holds-barred sessions with him, and they could
discuss anything under the sun. Russi also joined them for meals and often
regaled them with his typical cracks. He had his way with these youngsters,
who loved him for his open interaction, enthralled by his inexhaustible
stock of witticisms and hilarious anecdotes: “The young ones would really
take to me. When I went to their colleges they would all surround me. And
the secret was that when their professors were not around I would tell them
a dirty joke. They would love it, and I would get inducted in their group
immediately.”
And this playful man in the corridors of the institute would transform
into an introspective dean when speaking from the convocation dais,
reminding them that they had a debt to settle, “and in any walk of life they
should always remember that they are Indians first”. Fully aware of the
impact of his stimulating words, he spurred them on to develop a “zest for
life, to touch life at a dozen points”. And he coached them on living life
exactly the way he knew best. For Russi, the students at IIT always came
first, as he said, “There is a tendency in our country to bring about
uniformity in all spheres of life, and education is no exception. At a time
when the country is economically poised for a take-off and technical know-
how and high-technology are going to be tools with which we are going to
achieve industrial eminence, the lowering of standards of the IITs in any
way would be a disaster. The IITs must attract the best teachers in our
country and this can only be done if the emoluments of these teachers are
above those of other technology institutes or universities.” Although he
often droned that academe was not his natural habitat, he steered the Board
of Governors with same exemplary dexterity as he did the numerous
management boards of his companies.
 Russi’s was among the longest stints with three terms as the Chairman,
Board of Governors. Given the quality of his mind, he strongly espou-sed
that the system of higher education and research should be professionally
elitist and never undermine excellence. At the other end, he expressed
equally strong views on the role of Teachers’ Associations in IITs, and
considered them nothing more than trade unions; for he felt that the kind of
attention that should be paid to teaching was being diverted to other
activities that interfered with the administration and led to regrettable lack
of discipline among the teachers: “If the teachers are to be put on a pedestal,
then they on their part must also have a complete change of attitude towards
their jobs.” But as always, the layers of gentleness inherent in his harsh
criticism made it easier for the bitter pill to be swallowed.
And he nurtured one such dream to be the vice chancellor of a
university to just prove a point. “I believe that there are no bad students,
only bad teachers. Given the right teachers, any university can produce
remarkable students. The political interference in universities, and the
political links of student unions can be tackled if the teachers are committed
enough to keep the students in their control. But the VC and the teachers
should have elbow room.” Once questioned on this concern about the
menace of ‘brain drain’, Russi was as upfront: “I don’t blame them. There
is no such thing as the failure of an Indian outside India. Every Indian who
goes abroad is a success. Whether it’s to do with selling jeans at Piccadilly
Circus, or it’s a NASA scientist, or a Columbia University professor, they
all are a success. Now Indians are heading big companies, like Citibank and
McKinseys! So, the germ is there for success. However, we don’t have the
correct leadership and no one to correct the inefficiency and indiscipline of
the country.”
 
 
RUSSI CONFESSES THAT DESPITE BEING at the helm of a highly
technology-driven industry, it was perhaps his ignorance of that technology
and his interest in people which became his bliss: “If I were to tell you the
truth, even after fifty-three years of life in the largest steel plant, I don’t
know how to make steel. I have a general idea, but no technical knowledge.
So techniques are nothing. When it comes to being a leader of such a huge
team, if you think you have to have expertise in technology, it is an absolute
‘no’. What happened was that I managed people who managed Steel.” But
one may wonder that right through Russi’s incredibly long tenure with
Tisco, why did the organisation never experience labour unrest, since a man
always craves for more and no management can possibly fulfil every
demand of the workers? The answer is quite obvious that he achieved this
feat, which was nothing short of a miracle, through his unmatched
management technique. However, Russi never bagged sole credit and
admitted time and again that this success story was not due to the endeavour
of any one individual. Paying obeisance where it was due, he always
reiterated that the whole concept of industrial relations was projected to the
Company by JRD long before his own time. And that he and his colleagues
had merely implemented Tata’s vision. While resentment, suppressed for
long, took the shape of labour agitation elsewhere, Tisco under Russi’s
leadership gave the workers a platform, as regular meetings were held,
where they were free to speak their mind.
At times, what matters is the opinion of the employees in lower
echelons than the corporate bigwigs to check the pulse. As Niki Verma, a
visually challenged employee of Tisco, opined, “Mr Mody is a genius. The
way he resolved various industrial problems was simply amazing. He might
not have been techno-savvy, but his interest in technology would surprise
even the engineers. It was for sure that no one could bluff him. His flawless
strategy has proved him an insightful corporate leader time and again. He
has an equally sharp foresight, and knows what would be the industrial
scenario of the country even after many, many years. But above all, it is his
sense of humanity. There are so many instances I can cite. He knew that I
was a blind man, so what he did on my joining day was something that I
would cherish in my memory forever.”
It was sometime in December of 1970, that Verma came to Tisco as a
management trainee. “I was waiting in front of Mr Mody’s office to say
‘Hello sir, good morning’. Suddenly I heard someone greeting me in a
chirpy voice, ‘Good morning Niki, I am Russi in front of you, wish you all
the best!’ Knowing that I was devoid of sight, he came forward to greet me
first. Through so many small yet important things, he taught us how to
behave as a correct human being. His ability to mix freely with such a
cross-section of people has made him really great. Quick-witted, he always
ensured that there wasn’t a single monotonus moment while working with
him. There wasn’ta trace of his being bossy about anything. He was such
fun to be with. Here was a contrast. We had an officer in the establishment
department of Tisco who was a stickler for rules and regulation. He would
never make any concessions, as he was very stringent about regulations set
by the Company. Any letter or application without the attachment of proper
documents would be returned to the sender promptly, stating its inadequacy
of necessary information. The initials of this officer were NSR. And Mr
Mody would call him, ‘Mr No-Sorry-Regret’. It was not only inside the
plant that we en-joyed his company, but he also invited us to have dinner
with him at his bungalow. And there he would discuss so many issues
related to the Company. But no discussion was limited to the periphery of
loss and profit; rather he would pep all of us with his zany sense of
humour.”
Staying flexible was another facet of Russi that made him so amen- able
– a trait that JRD lauded in him a great deal, as he once wrote, “He has the
flexibility to sit one week with the workers on the shop-floor and share their
cup of tea, and the following week, holiday on the Riviera, sipping French
wine.” Several skippers of industry also share this view that Russi owed his
success largely to his inter-personal skills. But during frequent meetings
with him, one gathered another perspective that besides this exquisite skill,
it is his genuine concern for fellow human beings, which makes him what
he is. B-schools may teach aspiring managers to strike a rapport with the
workforce to get the optimum, but can this evoke fellow-feeling unless it
comes from within? His affection for the people around him has been
unconditional. He remained one of the most accessible chief executives.
And his personal take on this aspect is, “Immodestly speaking, I have had a
reasonable amount of success in the personnel field, which I can only
ascribe to two qualities, namely, a human touch and common sense, for
which I claim no credit, as I do not ever remember having consciously
cultivated them.”
Once the CMD of Bokaro Steel Plant, found himself up against a major
problem regarding the supply of iron ore fines required for the
commissioning of their first blast furnace complex. Their captive mines at
Kiriburu were to supply these fines till they suddenly found that due to an
unforeseen delay in the receipt of equipment, commissioning of the mines
would be seriously delayed. After a close assessment of the situation, the
only way out seemed to be getting fines from the Noamundi mines of Tisco
although this entailed construction of a temporary railway siding within a
matter of few weeks. There was no option for him except asking Russi to
bail him out. He readily agreed to supply fines from Noamundi at a very
reasonable price when he could easily have struck a hard bargain. And
when the first blast furnace complex at Bokaro was inaugurated by the
Prime Minister Indira Gandhi, in October of 1972, Russi was very much
present there. But not many would have known that this important mile-
stone in the history of Bokaro might not have been possible but for the
spontaneous cooperation of this considerate man.
 
 
EVER SINCE RUSSI TOOK OVER as the Managing Director on April 9
of 1974, Tisco was in upswing, achieving dramatic results even by global
standards. Once JRD remarked that it was never a cakewalk for him. As
steel company faced a severe crunch, Russi surmounted it all as his own
resolute spirit permeated his dedicated workforce, and he went on record to
say, “We are a dynamic organisation and we view each difficulty as a
challenge.” More so, the fact that Russi’s attention was never confined to
Tisco’s business alone, it had to do with his vision that social uplift alone
could ensure industrial prosperity. What Jamsetji Tata had once dreamt of –
a healthy environment, conducive to industrial peace and harmony in and
around the steel city and collieries and mines. And this was realised by
Russi, both in letter and spirit. Although JRD supported every move in this
direction, Russi himself initiated these steps.
It was at Russi’s initiative that Tata Steel launched one of the largest
social welfare schemes in the country for both employees and non-
employees. The three-pronged scheme of social uplift consisted of
programmes run by the Community Development and Social Welfare
Department, the Joint Committee for Adivasi Affairs, as well as the Tata
Steel Rural Development Society. While the Community Development had
started way back in 195859, it was only in 1974, when Russi became the
Managing Director, that his deep interest in Adivasi welfare gave birth to
one of the most potent instruments for Adivasi development in the steel
city, which led to setting up of schools, colleges, clubs, and other
institutions for the tribals in the peripheral areas of Jamshedpur. Russi
carried forth the noble tradition of Tatas that “the acquisition of wealth was
only a secondary object in life; it was always subordinate to the constant
desire to improve the industrial and intellectual condition of the people in
this country”.
The rural development programme transformed the lives of over one
lakh people in 200 villages around the steel city, the mines, and the
collieries. The underlying motive was also to avoid conflict and work for
conciliation outside Jamshedpur and try to make industry acceptable to the
environment in which it operated. As Russi puts it, “That was very
important because if we did not do so, then there would always have been
those pockets to provoke demands like,‘Our lands are being taken away but
jobs are not given’. We were spending about Rs 1.5 crore every year for the
village uplift. Now village uplift does not mean giving the rural community
a well here and something else there. We taught them new methods of
agriculture. We taught them the right way to use fertilisers instead of cow
dung; we taught them to sow in a particular manner. We arranged for cows
and bulls and other facilities to be given to them by banks. We stood as gua-
rantors. We took the milk they produced. We did all kinds of things to make
them self-reliant and self-sufficient. In this manner, one more experiment in
human relations had succeeded at Jamshedpur, which I thought deserved at
least a close look. I felt, all that Indian industry needs is to get the
maximum benefit out of the undoubted skills that our workers have, and it
is a misnomer that they are not skilled; they stand in comparison to
anybody. Given that management output, there is nothing that our workers
cannot achieve, and it is all based on the fundamental question of giving the
worker his dignity.”
Russi’ s desire to acknowledge workers’ dignity and self-esteem
remained supreme. Whenever senior executives flew in or out of Bombay
in the Company’ s plane, permission had to be obtained from the
International Airport Authority and the local police. On one such occasion,
when Russi was about to catch a flight to Jamshedpur, his car was stopped
at the check-post by a security personnel who had been working in place of
a regular staff who knew Russi. At this, Behram Irani, the Personnel
Executive at Bombay House, lost his cool, and was about to ask the security
officer what made him stop the car. But Russi held him back and said, “ Let
him do his duty.” After the guard had waved them through, Russi told him,
“ Behram, the guard has been assigned a duty. He should have been allowed
to perform it.”
It was during his time that Tisco took the initiative to invite a social
audit in 1980, the first ever by any Company, public or private, in India.
The committee comprising Justice SP Kotwal (Chairman), Prof Rajni
Kothari and Prof PG Mavalankar submitted their extensive report in July
that year. Every feasible measure was undertaken by the management to set
right the deficiencies highlighted in the report. As for Russi, the basic
concept of this social audit was to appraise the civic facilities that the
Company had provided to the employees. In 1991, when the scope of social
activities widened not only in Bihar, but much beyond, another report was
prepared by a team of Justice DN Mehta, Prof PG Mavalankar, and Prof
Sachidananda. When he was asked by a journalist to comment on the track
record of Tisco, as the CMD, Russi stated that although technical
excellence had a major role to play, the main strength lay in the harmonious
relationship between the management and the labour. He claimed that the
three Cs had nowhere strengthened the management more effectively than
in Tisco, “ as a truly one big happy family”.
Russi’s views were well corroborated by K Krishnamurthy, an authority
on the history of India’s Iron & Steel Industry, as he too had once opined:
“It’s an acknowledged fact that it is not technical excellence but industrial
peace that has enabled the companies to make both the ends meet, while the
public sector plants have generally failed to obtain the best of their installed
capacity, despite their best equipment.” While commenting on Russi, he had
said, “He’s been the proud chief executive of perhaps the most successful
industrial enterprise in this country.”
 
 
RUSSI’S SPORTING SPIRIT ALSO BOLSTERED his belief that ‘sport is
a way of life’. Well, he was again taking another tradition forward, as Tata
Sports Club was formed in 1937, and way back in 1893, Sir Dorabji had
strongly encouraged the Athletic Association in Bombay’s high schools.
Tatas were also instrumental in bringing to existence the Cricket Club of
India. And Naval Tata was president of Indian Hockey Federation for
eleven years when India won the World Hockey title at the Olympics. And
Baldev Singh who represented India at the London Olympics, 1948, was
trained by the Tatas at Loughbrough, England, and he in turn, later coached
the Indian athletic team for the Melbourne Olympics in 1956. Some of the
umpires and coaches at Tisco were trained by the National Sports Institute
in Patiala. Such facilities were made available to families even outside the
Tata fold.
The little boy who played cricket in the garden at his Cumballa Hill
residence in Bombay with his cousin Naval Mody, and blossomed into a
‘Saturday afternoon match player’, Russi had a feel for this sport from that
early an age. But he was awfully scared of getting hurt by the cricket ball.
And thereby he served notice to his cousin one day that he should bowl
slowly, or else he might faint. And Russi’s longstanding relationship with
cricket ascertained his love for the willow. One such episode goes hack to a
cold winter day in 1963, when local cricketers lined up in a long queue
outside Tisco with a hope to join the Company and sign up for the Aryans
Club, which at that time was headed by Russi himself. They wanted to
represent the Club in a game against Mohun Bagan in the knockout final of
the Cricket Association of Bengal. As the spectators watched a beaming,
portly player on the morning of the finals leading the new recruits onto the
field, they were amazed to see him come forward to ball in the maiden over.
The opening batsman Nemai Ghosh was least aware of what was coming
his way. Russi took a few steps in great style, and then delivered the ball
with ease. Well, the ball seemed to disappear into the clouds, while a
flustered Ghosh wondered about the outcome of this strange delivery. And
as the ball descended from the skies, he followed his instinct to hit it with
his bat, the ball fell straight into the hands of the wicketkeeper. Russi
flashed his trademark smile at the bemused crowds, threw the ball to one of
the professional bowlers with great flourish, and made a patronising
remark, “Boys, I’ve done my job and the rest is yours.” The prevailing joke
was that Russi’s bowling was so lob-sided that it invariably eluded the
batsman.
He looks back at these lighter moments with a serious overview of
sports and its enduring qualities: “Sports teach you a great deal. It teaches
you first and foremost fair play. It teaches you how to take a defeat
sportingly. There are certain skills involved in all sports – tennis, golf,
cricket, everything. So you have to be somewhat apt in those sorts of things,
for you have to have efficiency, hard work, alacrity. But above all, in sports,
you got to appreciate that your opponent is as sporting a person as you are.
If he is sensible enough, he will copy you and probably it will rub off on
him too.” Russi was Manager of Bihar cricket team and later also happened
to be on its selection panel, and those days he could still play a bit himself.
They decided that anyone who got to score sixty or more would be eligible
for selection. As Russi happened to score the highest, his name was to
figure as a probable. “God, I was embarrassed and I declined,” he recalls.
Russi’s real dream project was to set up the Tata Football Academy in
Jamshedpur though his first love was cricket. “I tried to raise the standard
of football in the whole country; it was not just the question of building a
football team for Tisco. I wanted to do something more than that, and do
something unique. It was a new sport in this country and I wanted to
promote it and make it popular, so that we could compete in international
events. I felt that merely working, or getting the Company to run, no matter
how well, without meeting its social obligations, was extremely dull not
only for me but for everyone else as well. When we laid the foundation of
the Football Academy, and got the ace soccer player Chunni Goswami as its
director, in a way it became a pioneering institution that single-handedly
raised the standard of Indian football by training young people at the
grassroots level. I took personal interest that sports be encouraged and grow
as a vital activity in India. While we imported Brazilian soccer players to
Calcutta where this sport has the most reverential following, I even sent six
or seven of my teen youngsters to Brazil.”
Many of these sports events brought Russi closer to his workers.
“Whenever I went to a mass function, a football match or anything, usually
being the chief guest of the event, I didn’t just walk out after the game and
get into my limousine to drive off. I always went amongst the crowd and
shook their hands, patted them on their backs and asked, ‘Kya kar rahe ho?
Karkhana mein kya ho raha hai? (What are you doing? What is happening
in the factory?).’ So I became one of them, and they couldn’t fight with one
among them.”
This feel for sportsmanship found him a great friend in the tennis
champ, Davis Cup Captain Naresh Kumar: “Originally that might have
been so”, he admits, “but we have been like brothers. His personal life and
mine, it’s all known to each other. The first time he met his wife, he brought
her to see me.” On the beautiful grass courts of the South Club in Calcutta,
Russi would quench his urge to play six-seven sets with Kumar even after
eighteen holes of golf in the morning. As Kumar once observed, “Russi has
imbibed the treasured Kiplingesque value of trying to be a good sport.” No
wonder, he was swinging on the golf course with the same verve and energy
that he displayed on the tennis court. Russi’s golfer friend, Chris Hesketh-
Jones, who was on the Board of Directors of Indian Oxygen Ltd., vouched
for his unique use of the putter, first witnessed at Tollygunge, and later in
the UK at Walton Heath. “He would take his putter from about sixty metres
from the green and put the ball close to the pin when most of us would have
been struggling with a wedge. It was most demoralising.” And he mastered
the art as he would strictly avoid business talks while playing golf, never
wanting to mix business with pleasure, “for I am always very absorbed in
what I am doing. This ability to concentrate is a very important ingredient
whether you head a huge Company, play contract bridge or perform card
tricks. I always won the bridge games quite effortlessly, and felt a child-like
glee at the baffled look of my friends”.
Not the one to recline on a bench in the jogger’s park and bask in the
sun on a chilly morning, Russi would take off to ski at Gstadt, while back
home the Darjeeling hills would beckon him to take the desired respite. And
the adventurous streak of this compulsive traveller was not “just to get
exotic and prestigious labels on my suitcases”. He loved to see and observe
people in diverse cultures. “Tell me, what is so beautiful about the
pyramids?” he would ask. “Okay, it was a great feat building them, but I
didn’t understand when people burst into raptures over them. I felt they
were faking it.”
Sharing his passion for aviation with both the Bharat Ratna, JRD (the
first Indian to have a flying license) and the young pilot Prime Minister
Rajiv Gandhi, Russi reveals that he indulged in flying as late as past forty.
“This is quite amusing how aviation came into my life and I developed this
love of flying. Once the pilot took me up in the Company’s plane, and after
a while he said, ‘Would you like to handle it?’ I said, ‘Why not?’ I started
navi-gating and after about five-ten minutes I enjoyed doing it. That’s how
it all started. In six hours I became a pilot! Eventually I got a flying license
but I had everything except the plane.” Of course, he flew small planes like
Cessna Citation, “as they wouldn’t let me fly the Airbus.” Simply Russi!
He often visited Rajiv Gandhi in New Delhi. It was reported that after
one such visit, the Prime Minister was seen making a note on the pad that
read, ‘Russi’s jet’, to remind himself of the fact that Russi had asked for
government approval in order to get enough foreign currency to buy an
executive jet for Tisco. “It would save me so much of time”, was Russi’s
plea.
Though wary of “occupying positions in sports bodies”, for “we just
lack stamina for the killer instinct in sports and our training methods are
wrong, so is our food,” Russi became the President of the Steel Plants
Sports Board, and Chairman of the Finance Commission of the Indian
Olympic Association. But irrespective of any official position, he tended to
talent all the way. When Bachendari Pal came from Garhwal to see Russi
seeking a job in Tisco, to enable her to continue with her mountaineering,
she became the first Indian woman to scale the Everest, and put up the
Com-pany’s flag on the summit. And even Charles Borromeo, the silver
medalist, 400 metres, Shakti Sagar, the volleyball player, Sunil Panda, the
basketball player, they all were inducted in the social welfare department. In
fact, the Bihar cricket team was at its peak in Jamshedpur with 80 per cent
of players from the Tisco team. Even the former skippers of the Indian
cricket team, Saurav Ganguly and Ravi Shastri, were on the pay rolls of
Tisco, and so was the ace tennis player, Joydeep Mukherjee.
 
 
RUSSI MUST HAVE SWELLED WITH pride, when almost 70,000
workers of the Company protested in January of 1979, against the move of
the Central Government to nationalise Tisco with a riding thought that it
would bring them popularity. All those at the steel plant, mines, collieries
and sales resolved that nationalisation would be detrimental to the nation
and employees of the Company. They took such an unusual step of sending
a cable to Prime Minister Morarji Desai, saying, ‘Hands off Tata steel’. And
conveyed as much to the Industry Minister George Fernandes, “Take over
this Company over our dead bodies.”
 The move fizzled out as the PM categorically stated that at no time had
he lent his support to such a move. Russi’s team of this multitude of
workers couldn’t have paid a more gratifying tribute to their boss, who was
more of their benefactor than a mere superior. Russi too contends, “Yes,
more so, because this was the time when all the workers and the labouring
classes were clamouring for state control. The fact that they conveyed to the
government so firmly that they did not want to work except in Tata Steel,
was perhaps the culmination of all our efforts.” But then he was strongly
aware that such gratitude is not earned in a day. “This sort of thing does not
happen by your patting a Mac on the back and calling him by his personal
name, although that sort of thing helps”, concedes Russi, for he knows he
commanded such unflinching loyalty of his flock not just by establishing a
terrific ‘connect’ and alleviating that class distinction, but having inspired
them to fight back against injustice.
Interestingly, the same year in a speech on nationalisation, Russi stated
that “to take over a firm like Tisco, with all that it had done in the years
past, and to nationalise it without any rhyme or reason is industrial
vandalism of the worst kind”. He preferred to distinguish not between
private and public sectors, but between efficient and inefficient sectors. But
he had supported the nationalisation of coal. When asked why, his response
was: “I had supported it, as the prevalent mismanagement and corruption
were causing severe damage to coal industry. What I do object to is your
money and mine being misspent. Out of over Rs 50,000 crore spent on
public sector enterprises, there is net annual negative return. Is this the kind
of return that will generate growth and ensure social justice?” Russi
remained volubly vociferous against the way the public sector operates in
India. But people working in this sector were never his target: “The public
sector plant managers are not a different or inferior breed. They are, I know,
as dedicated to their duties. But constant interference from Delhi in every
little thing makes a shamble of autonomy.” Russi openly referred to the
“solid trade union of bureaucracy” active in the country, as the decisions
involving hundreds of crores of rupees were taken by them in unison. This,
he said, was one of the biggest hurdles that the country was facing. He
remained a ‘provocative adversary’ as a Steel Secretary chose to call him.
In April of 1979, when The Economic Times Bureau presented its
annual survey of big companies, among the top fifty private sector
companies, asset-wise, six Tata Companies featured in these statistics for
1977-78, among which Tisco figured as number one. The report also drew a
comparison between US Steel and Tata Steel thus revealing that the
turnover of US Steel of about $12 billion was thirty times the turnover of
Tata steel, but the latter was a pioneer in the field of basic industry within
the country. And Tisco had also put up a Management Development Centre,
probably the first of its kind in the country, wherein about 8000 of its
personnel went through scores of different programmes. Russi would take
around his friends to visit this centre being built across the town and
arranged for them to be driven there, and at the last minute he would get
into the driver’s seat. His exuberance for this training centre was owing to
the contribution it would make grooming the young and old personnel alike.
Thus Russi succeeded JRD as the Chairman of Tisco, in 1984, and the
latter handed over the reigns after forty-six eventful years. Just a year
before Russi had been chosen ‘Businessman of the Year’ by Business India.
He was fairly conscious of carrying on the legacy of a distinguished
industrial tradition. The fact that JRD passed on the chair of the flagship
company to Russi that promoted many of Tata’s other companies was the
ultimate compliment to Russi’s ingenuity. And JRD praised him profusely:
“…Russi and I have grown together in the Company, Russi more usefully
than I, and therefore, there was no question in my mind that he was the best
man to carry the torch, better than I would be able to do in future... In the
course of my life, I have seen very many people, but more than anyone I
can think of, Russi possesses a matchless capacity for leadership... He has
exceptional human sympathy and compassion and total honesty of pur-
pose… One can’t achieve anything unless you give all of yourself to what
you are doing. And this Russi certainly does – he enjoys every minute of
what he’s doing…”
And Russi went on record to say, “I never aspired to be the chairman. I
did aspire to become the chief executive (managing director). But having
achieved that, I had no further ambition. It is always good to start at the
bottom to reach the top in time. I got the chairmanship without ever seeking
it. I would not have died an unhappy man without it.” He ascribed his
success to luck – to the Almighty. “If that is not a piece of luck, what do
you call it? I naturally took to human beings and the love and affection that
I have received has been the sustaining force of my life.” What really
mattered to him was that he knew it is commitment alone that fetches
success. He also stated in an interview to Business Standard, “Since it is the
government policy to deny us any major expansion, I will always look for
avenues for diversification into new fields. I am already working on some
of them. I shall try to obtain high profits for my Company consistent with
the national and social obligations. The latter is as essential as the former
since I don’t consider profit as an end in itself.”
 
 
A NON-CONFORMIST, RUSSI CONTINUED to challenge, putting forth
his pioneering ideas. At a press meet in Calcutta in July of 1988, he
reflected that the growth of an industry suffers stagnation when the
government imposes constraints. If freed from these shackles for at least a
period of five years, the industry would prosper much, as the environment
would be conducive to development. Although he didn’t want government
interference in industry, Russi did not deny the government its role in
managing foreign exchange reserve, but expected the government to
perform its role with efficiency, while not disturbing the free functioning of
industry. Russi is one of those forerunners in the industry who has done all
the plain-speaking and taken up the cause on behalf of the fraternity.
Harmony being the keyword in his personal lexis, he held on to the belief
that both the government and the industrial sector should work for the
betterment of the country without intruding into each other’s territory.
Fairly fearless about taking on the powers that be, Russi also expressed
his disappointment at the continuation of controls over prices and
distribution of steel and disclosed the possibility of testing the legality of
the exclusion of the Indian Iron and Steel Co. Ltd from the purview of the
Joint Plant Committee. He found these controls even more anachronistic in
the context of the major decisions being taken to radically alter the existing
policy framework, which had been seriously affecting country’s material
progress. For that matter, he even fought the Rajiv Gandhi government on
the anti-Tisco tirade about sales tax evasion, etc: “All that was getting so
boring and repetitive. The fact is that goods were sent to our distribution/
sale points all over the country from the plant in Jamshedpur. No prior sale
was made and the customer had to pay sales tax when a sale is made, and
this is passed on to the respective State Governments. Tata Steel paid about
Rs 40 crore as sales tax every year. There was no question of not doing this,
for the Company did not stand to gain, as it is the customer who would have
borne the burden of sales tax. Not one single rupee of tax duty of the
Government had ever been held by us. I had said, ‘Let it become due. Let
the courts say it is due and I would pay it within 24 hours’. There was no
question of my not doing that. It was ridiculous.”
But what he said on December 12 of 1987, on the 48th year of his
association with the Company, could only underpin his personal philosophy,
“The CMD of any Company comes and goes. For me, it is not a career
anymore. It started as a career, but now it has become part and parcel of
me…it is my life.” True, for Russi’s identity had completely merged with
Tisco. When he took over as its managing director in 1974, it had recorded
a turnover of Rs 500 crore. By 1991-92, it touched Rs 2900 crore. In fact,
Tata Steel came of age under Russi’s auspices, for he was the one
spearheading two major phases of modernisation and expansion
programme, and successfully initiated the third. And so is he credited for
establishment of the cement plant. The acquisition of Special Steel and the
bearings facility; the promotion of Tata Timken and setting up pig iron units
in West Bengal and Chennai could only prove the veracity of his business
acumen and outstanding leadership drive.
His astute management skills were reflected in the Company’s balance
sheet. Russi proved that JRD’s decision to pass on the baton to him was
more than judicious. When the half-yearly result was published, it scripted a
new turnaround in the business. The results for the first-half of 1984-85
attracted the attention of the boardroom, punters, shareholders and
employees alike. The production had registered a massive growth – from
56,000 tonne to 7,98,000 tonne; sales figure recorded substantial growth –
from 33,000 tonne to 6,80,000 tonne. The total revenue had recorded an
increase of Rs 81.32 crore to Rs 457.89 crore. The operations during the
period yielded a pre-tax profit of Rs 19.12 crore compared to a nominal Rs
15 lakh for the first-half of 1982-83.
But once again, Russi’s range was not confined to the Company he had
chaired; he had absolute concern for the holistic well-being of industry.
Never known to have minced his words, Russi flayed the government
before a large crowd of mine workers at Tata’s Jamadoba Collieries on
January 19 of 1985, for trying to restrict the expansion of industries under
the MRTPA (Monopolies and Restrictive Trade Practices Act), the prevalent
license raj, and other restrictive rules. His analysis of the existing
regulations put in place by the government made so many bureaucrats sit on
the edge of their seats. It was some time in early February the same year
when the Journalists Association of Jamshedpur accorded him a reception.
Russi didn’t spend time on pleasantries or his achievements. He talked
about the problems of the country’s industries, with due emphasis on the
growth of business, and advocated complete removal of MRTPA. He said it
all point blank: “MRTPA should be thrown into the dustbin without delay
and with no regret. Industry has great expectation from the new government
at the Centre… I don’t find any possibility of increase in production in key
sectors unless expansion is allowed appreciably by the Centre.” He also
advised the fourth estate to play its valuable role to uphold the cause of
industry. But what really invited the ire of Russi against MRTPA? It was
some conditions set by the MRTP Commission, as Tisco took over the
Bearing Unit of Metal Box at Kharagpur on October 1 of 1983.
As an MRTP company, Tisco had submitted to the Union Government a
scheme for the production of bearings at Kharagpur and their marketing.
Almost a year later, in September of 1984, the Union Ministry of Law,
Justice and Company Affairs approved of the takeover, but on the condition
that Tisco could not sell to the Kharagpur factory more than 25 per cent (in
terms of value) of the rings manufactured at their ring-rolling factory at
Jamshedpur, nor could 25 per cent (in terms of value) of ball bearing
manufactured at Kharagpur factory be sold to Tisco for five years from the
date of the takeover. Had the management of Tisco agreed to these
conditions, the viability of Kharagpur factory would have been nullified.
The Company ultimately agreed to the condition that in order to sell more
than 25 per cent of the ball bearings manufactured at Kharagpur factory to
Tisco, it would have to seek approval of the ministry during the five years,
w.e.f. October 1 of 1983.
Facing fresh challenges with enormous courage and grit, Russi showed
steely determination. In fact, he is a great believer in what Confucius said,
“Nothing is as good or as bad as it appears first.” He was egged on by the
fact that Kumardhubi Metal Casting Engineering Ltd (KMCEL), which had
been taken over by the Bihar Government as a ’sick’ unit, was given to
Tisco to be run in collaboration. After taking over Kumardhubi in October
of 1984, Tisco injected all its technical expertise and, not surprisingly, its
factory was soon on course. Before long, it re-employed all the retrenched
employees. The kind of collaborative support that Kumardhubi had enjoyed
with Tisco, in Russi’s purview, it could be replicated both in Heavy
Enginee-ring Corporation (HEC) at Ranchi, and Mining & Allied
Machineries Corporation (MAMC) at Durgapur. The marketing network
that the Tatas possessed, both at home and abroad, could be utilised to sell
the products of these two public sector engineering giants.
Russi had made his views amply clear: “If you want to liberalise, then
liberalise. This concept of mixed economy, mixed liberalisation is just
stupid. Take big houses, for instance. They are talking of raising the MRTP
limit from Rs 100 crore to Rs 500 crore. How does it help me? For every
single license, I still have to go to the government. All the big houses like
mine, which have the holding power, the technical know-how, the financial
resources and the managerial skills, are still being prevented from going out
and doing things. Every bureaucratic hurdle that existed ten years ago still
continues to exist as far as I am concerned. No doubt, small and medium
organisations will get some benefit, but what about the big houses? And
what is a big house, anyway? The House of Tatas, compared to some of the
big houses in the world, is a pygmy. Birlas, Tatas, Singhanias and all the
other so-called big Indian houses put together will not make half of General
Motors. So what is all this fetish about bigness? Let the big be big. And
who is responsible for this colossal waste? Is the public sector anybody’s
father’s property to be run so wastefully? And what is this so-called private
sector? In Tisco, Tatas have just about 5 per cent shares. But when I run the
Company, do I ever think of making profits only for the Tatas? No, I think
of the industry as a whole. But one cannot deny that the private sector, too,
is afflicted with the malady of greed. And, of course, there are inefficient
units in the private sector, too.”
 
 
IN RUSSI’S SCHEME OF THINGS, Nehruvian socialism had taken a
beating as he aptly corroborated it with the fact that in the pre-
Independence years Pt Nehru was a welcome visitor at the residence of
JRD’s father on Malabar Hill. But years later, in the 1950s, when the
government planned to set up three steel plants in the public sector at
Bhilai, Durgapur and Rourkela, Pt Nehru in no way felt it could have been
worthwhile to fall back on some consultancy by Tisco – for he had virtually
no predilection for the private sector. And this was underlined in his reply
to JRD’s personal letter to Pt Nehru that given the experience of the Tatas in
manufacturing steel, Tisco could have been duly consulted, and they would
have been delighted to offer any possible assistance on the setting up of
these plants. Pt Nehru’s famous words to Neville Wadia of Bombay Dyeing
were: “Profit – I hate that word.” And right through Russi repeatedly
proved how that profit could be rechannelised for the general well-being of
all and further make the Company more resourceful.
 
 
Russi was also of the firm opinion that “it is not the bias of the government
in favour of certain business houses, but the professional attitude of the
entrepreneurs which delivers the desired results.” This could well be
illustrated by Tisco itself, where the government held 40 per cent of the
equity, while the Tata family owned such meagre equity of 5 per cent in the
1980s. In such a situation, even JRD could be ousted at any point of time by
the government, but the latter would not dare to do so, considering the
profit the Company had earned under his stewardship. In the same breath,
Russi also asserted over these decades that industrial growth could never
  

III
RUFFLED FEATHERS
 
Threatening clouds were beginning to gather, in the middle of 1988, when
the corridors of Bombay House were abuzz with rumours about the
imminent changes in the hierarchy of the Tata Group. JRD Tata, the
venerable head of the group, had already begun relinquishing charge as the
chairman of different Tata units. It was being surmised that JRD would be
asking Russi to get into the hot seat of TELCO (Tata Engineering &
Locomotives, now Tata Motors), as Sumant Moolgaokar’s exit was a
foregone conclusion given his ill-health. In such a scenario, Russi would
have been at the helm of the two largest Tata companies – Tisco and Telco –
with combined sales of approximately Rs 3000 crore at that time, and thus
become a strong contender for chairmanship of the Group. But it didn’t
happen. A pre-empted report in a Calcutta daily, The Statesman, queered
the pitch for Russi taking over as Telco chairman.
Gosh, how reports on this contentious corporate issue flooded the print
media! But it didn’t take long to comprehend after a comparative analysis
that Russi was grossly misrepresented in some of those reports. It was much
later that he spoke at length in an interview with Vir Sanghvi, the editor of a
Calcutta-based weekly Sunday, in the issue of May 23-29, 1993, about how
he had tried to sort out the misunderstanding, if there was any, with anyone
in Tata House. He also expressed his shock over this article insinu-ating that
Russi was aspiring to become the chairman of Telco. This is how he set the
record straight:
I’ll tell you the full story. JRD, Ratan Tata and myself once met in
JRD’s room and decided that when Mr Moolgaokar retired – and he
was about to do so because of ill-health – I should take over the
chairmanship for a couple of years and then pass it on to Ratan. I
 went away to England where Mr Moolgaokar one day called me and
said, ‘When are you returning to India?’ I told him I was returning
the following Saturday. He said, ‘Please don’t go home. Come
straight to my flat. I want to see you urgently.’ I did that. He told me
that he was not keeping good health and wanted to retire from the
chairmanship, so would I please take it over? We talked a little
about Telco and things like that. I reached Calcutta to find that The
Statesman had carried an article on how I was going to save Telco
and how it was mismanaged. I had never spoken to The Statesman,
so I was completely flabbergasted. I rang up Ratan immediately in
Bombay and said, ‘Please go and explain to Sumant Moolgaokar
that I never briefed any journalist and that I am shocked by the
article.’ And Ratan said, ‘Well Sumant is certainly very upset.’ So I
said, ‘Please tell him that I had nothing to do with the piece. It is the
last thing I would ever connive at.’ No, when I went to Bombay I
discovered that things had changed. Now Ratan was going to be the
chairman of Telco. I was asked to support the move, and of course, I
did. What I felt bad about was that Ratan, JRD, and myself, had all
been party to a decision on the Telco chairmanship. I understand that
Moolgaokar may have been upset by the article. But firstly, I think
an attempt should have been made to persuade him that it was not
my fault. And secondly, I was surprised by the alacrity with which
Ratan accepted the chairmanship.
And during our interaction with Russi, he reiterated what he had stated
fourteen years earlier, ‘Let me tell you, I have never ever had any intention
to hurt anyone, or supersede anyone for any sort of achievement in my life.
I have always believed in being happy with whatever God has given me.”
From the Sunday interview it would appear that even Moolgaokar was quite
keen to hand over the charge to Russi. But he was later upset by that article
in The Statesman. When Russi was asked to comment on it, he preferred to
remain silent.
Eventually, it was Ratan Tata who took over from Moolgaokar – as
prelude to a more pivotal role for him in Tatas’ scheme of things. Russi may
not admit it, but he was believed to be terribly upset with Moolgaokar, as he
was never taken into confidence although Tisco, which promoted Telco,
was the largest corporate stockholder in the auto firm. But Russi never
allowed such happenings to mar his relations with his associates. He said
later, “I welcomed Ratan. My first objective was the growth of the business
of Tatas.” Even when Ratan Tata was appointed the Chairman of Tata Sons
in 1991, Russi wholeheartedly supported the move and went on to say,
“JRD was only thirty-four, when he made it as the Chairman of Tata Sons,
and Kennedy, just forty-two, when he became the President of the United
States of America. Their youth never came in their way of leaving a mark
and imprint upon this world. I don’t find any reason why Ratan should not
follow their footsteps. When the world is veering towards the younger
gene-ration, Ratan’s appointment makes imminent sense.”
While the Tata Sons Board had become wary of Russi’s views being
published in the media, they seemed to wink at other board members, who
allegedly were making selective leaks about the confidential matters of the
Company. And it was Dr Jamshed J Irani, the immediate successor of Russi
at Tisco who told the newsmagazine India Today in January of 1992, that it
would be ideal to have Ratan Tata as chairman and himself as managing
director of Tisco. Dr Irani later denied having said this with a plea of being
misquoted, but the Editor-in-Chief Aroon Purie stood by the story. While
Dr Irani never came to any harm, Russi was getting the flak, and the accord
between the Tatas and Russi was being derailed time and again. Frequent
misunderstandings and misinterpretations of innocuous statements vitia-ted
the atmosphere in Bombay House. A longstanding, much-valued old
friendship was completely at stake. For Russi, Tisco was much more than
an organisation. He could never imagine that his decisions, taken in the
interest of the Company, could ever be challenged.
But on November 26 of 1991, Russi got the shock of his life. Aware of
his advancing years, he desired to hand over charge to whom he thought to
be the most deserving successors. The same day Russi issued a circular
promoting two of his six executive directors – Aditya Kashyap and Ishaat
Hussein – as the Joint Managing Director and Deputy Managing Director
(Finance). He mentioned in the same circular that Dr Irani would continue
with a new designation (Additional Managing Director), while retaining his
position as second-in-command. Russi’s move was subjected to varied
interpretations, but he claimed that his main objective was primarily the
growth of the Company. Nonetheless, one thing was clear. If Russi had any
ulterior motive in re-designating the three directors, he would have stayed
back to see the consequences of his move, and not leave for England on
holiday. He never expected the storm that followed.
Those in the know of things at Tisco felt that Russi could have probably
got away with this shuffling, though both Kashyap and Hussein, were the
youngest of the six Tisco executive directors, if only he had stayed put in
Jamshedpur for a fortnight. His presence alone would have been deterrent
enough to quieten any voice of dissent. But in his absence, the dissenting
voices of the four superseded executive directors found an echo in
executives at various levels in Jamshedpur, who too seemed to be pining for
a showdown. And in that interview with Sunday, Russi had stated: “…The
circular announcing the promotions came out before a board meeting – that
is when Dr Irani congratulated Aditya Kashyap. But nobody even raised it
at the board meeting. This is, in spite of the fact, that I had told several of
the outside directors about the promotions before the board meeting:
Mantosh Sondhi, Sam Palia, LP Singh, Akbar Hydari, and one or two
others. I asked them, ‘Should I take it to the board?’ And they said there
was no need, for ‘they are already members of the board. You are only
changing their designations.’ So, neither had they brought it up, nor did I, or
any of the executive directors.”
But was it not questionable to promote three directors without obtaining
approval from the board, he was asked. Russi replied, “First of all, I was ill-
advised, so far as the Company’s article of association was concerned.
Secondly, although I did not put up the matter before the board officially, I
had discussed it with senior directors including the representatives of the
financial institutions on the Tisco board, such as PK Kaul, former Finance
Secretary, and they approved of it.” Russi further clarified. “I have made
mistakes, but this is not a mistake. Financial and marketing functions
should be recognised, as these are very important in any Company. It is the
hub of activities.” Well, it is equally true that Russi himself had been
superseded as many as six times in his fifty-three-year-long career. It’s not
seniority that always counts in the corporate world; it has as much to do
with the stupendous skills that matter.
About ten days later, by when he was in London, Russi received a letter
from Nani Palkhivala and Ratan Tata about the discord. That is when it
became an issue owing to Ratan Tata’s visit to Jamshedpur. Upon his return
from the steel city, the situation flared up. Although earlier Ratan Tata
chose not to register his objection or even raise the issue at the board meet-
ing on November 27 of 1991, but certain hints dropped at the meeting made
Russi realise his own limitations, as the majority on the Board of Tata Steel
was not prepared to accept the changes that he had brought in. For the first
time perhaps it dawned on him that after all, he was not a Tata, but a Mody,
and a mere employee under the board’s thumb.
Russi’s choice had its own logistics with considerable reasons for
bringing about these changes: “Although the joint managing director and all
the executive directors are performing their jobs more than adequately, the
time has come when I have to build up possibly a line of succession. Dr
Irani, with a higher designation, remains number two, and all talk of him
being superseded is nonsense. Thus the supremacy of operations has not in
any way been reduced by giving some greater emphasis to marketing and
finance…The other executive directors who could have been considered are
all of the same age group as Dr Irani, and therefore, could not be considered
for succession.” Russi made these observations in London, for he believed
that since marketing and export were Aditya Kashyap’s forte, this
specialised knowledge would help the Company to prosper. Considering
their age, Kashyap and Hussein, both only forty-four at that point of time,
were the best minds to groom. Although Russi’s move was interpreted as a
ploy to promote Kashyap, his blue-eyed boy, the fact remains that JRD
himself was much impressed by Kashyap’s brilliant performance and had
conveyed his views in a letter addressed to Russi:
I told you in the course of one of our private chats when you were
last in Bombay, how impressed I was by Aditya and his contribution
to the Company. The more I get to know him and hear him talk, the
more I feel that we have in him an outstanding young officer whose
intellectual talents and infinite capacity for work are already and
will increasingly be invaluable to the Company. In your judgment,
when the time comes for him to get some promotion, either in status
or pay, you may take it that whatever you decide will have my full
support.
And Russi was very clear as he stated firmly, “There has never been a
greater untruth, as right from the beginning I have said, and shouted from
the housetop that Aditya has many excellent qualities. But to make him the
managing director at that stage was not on at all. In fact, when I made him
joint managing director, I put Dr Irani above him, as additional managing
director. It is said that because Aditya is my adopted son, I have promoted
him. I can truthfully say I have never employed a relative in my life. There
was no question of Aditya being my successor. I am the man who has all
along promoted Dr Irani. Even after the promotions, he was senior to
Aditya. If Aditya had a chance, then it was after Dr Irani’s term was over.
The Tatas have had additional managing agents before in the days of the
managing agency system. There was a precedent for the designation. If I
had gone to Ratan and said, ‘I am re-designating the executive directors’, he
would have said ‘go ahead’. The only reason I did not was because he was
unavail-able for three days before the board meeting. It was only because he
was not available that I spoke to Sabavala, who said he agreed with the
promotions. But then they would have found another excuse to get at me.
The promotions were not an issue. They were an excuse.”
Naturally, Kashyap too reacted to this controversy sparked by his
appointment, and sought to give his version in an interview:
Firstly, I’m no relative of Mody. I was one of the two whom he
picked up out of five or six whom he interviewed for recruitment in
Tisco. Since day one, he has been treating me, looking after me,
guiding me, so much so that he has adopted me as his son. Mody is
my mentor, my guardian, my godfather. It is true that he is close to
me. But that doesn’t mean that I have no ability. People attack me
because Mr Mody once said that I am his adopted child. If anyone
nurses any doubt about my honesty and the strength of my moral
principle, I am ready to face any enquiry to prove them…
Explaining at great length his capabilities and credentials to discount the
impression that without Russi’s patronage, he was nobody, Kashyap was a
mechanical engineer with Masters in Business Administration, and had put
in twenty-one years in the steel company, after becoming executive
assistant to Russi in 1970-71. In fact, in 1992, Kashyap was the first Indian
to become chairman of the Iron & Steel Institute of Brussels. And while
rummaging through related files, one discovered that it was during
Kashyap’s tenure that exports recorded a sharp rise. The consistent growth
of exports from 1988-89 (Rs 93 crore) to 1991-92 (Rs 400 crore)
ascertained his abilities, and under his direct charge, the export turnover
was targeted to touch Rs 1000 crore by 1997-98. It would not be out of
context, if one referred to the report of Arthur D Little, in which this
internationally acclai-med management consultant rated Kashyap as the
most efficient director of Tisco. The consultant also recommended that
marketing, which was Kashyap’s domain, should be given more importance
within the organisation. But Russi’s adversary Dr Irani was ready with his
retort: “Maybe the chairman is privy to the Arthur D Little report. But the
report I got did not rate anybody’s performance. Kashyap is a blue-eyed
boy.”
As for Ishaat Hussein, Russi had offered him the job as Director
Accounts, at Indian Tube, in 1981, which later merged with Tata Steel. And
Hussein joined the Tata Steel Board in 1989, and did his chairman proud by
piloting some of the most innovative financial deals at Tisco, like the Rs
1200 crore domestic issue in the early 1990s, with a novel structuring of
secured premium notes. Hussein had described Russi as one of the finest
‘people manager’ he ever worked with. After Russi’s departure, he was
taken on as the finance director of Tata Sons.
Even if it is accepted, for the sake of academic argument, that Tatas had
an interest in maintaining integrity in their flagship establishment, how
would changing the names of some designations have damaged the larger
interest of Tisco, since benefits and responsibilities of each of the existing
directors remained untouched? Observed a former senior official of Tisco:
“There were a few who had vested interests in opposing his plan, tooth and
nail. Otherwise, Russi’s decision, which portended so well in the
Company’s interest, to promote Kashyap and Hussein would not have been
challenged in such a way. A few even went ahead to call it ‘the great
November Revolution’ in Tisco. Today, the same coterie describes it ‘as an
unorthodox action in an orthodox organisation’. The great JRD too had to
restructure the Tata Group in 1983, to enable him to implement his strategic
plan. There was resistance to change, but JRD was able to muster
cooperation of the satraps, like Voltas Chairman AH Tobaccowala, Forbes
Campbell Chairman Freddie A Mehta, and Minoo Mody, Chief Executive
of Tata Sons and Chairman of Tata Unisys, among others. Russi, on the
other hand, did not get any support.” It became obvious that a section of
bigshots misinterpreted Russi’s decision as a crafty gambit to hand over the
reins to his protégés and in the process extend his own tenure.
 While Russi was in London, JRD called him up and said, “Please come
back to India, I want to talk to you.” Though he was scheduled to come
three-four days later, he rushed back. And when Russi called up JRD, he
said, “I don’t want to meet you alone. I will only meet you with Ratan.”
After fifty-two years of association, he had refused to meet Russi even
though he returned pronto. Later when Russi had asked him, JRD told him
frankly, “I was afraid you might convince me.” Russi assumed that Ratan
had convinced JRD that there was crisis in Jamshedpur and both Dr Irani
and some of the executive directors were resentful over the promotions. In
Russi’s per-ception, “It was not a crisis. The majority of the executives were
not affected. The workers were not concerned. The Company was doing so
well.”
 
 
IN JANUARY OF 1992, THE CORPORATE world saw how Russi buried
the controversy in the Tata empire. He said, “I have got no ego… I am also
a human being and liable to err.” With his apology, ultimately the gust of
protest died down and Russi agreed to revert his decision, re-designating
Aditya Kashyap and Ishaat Hussein as Senior Executive Directors, and Dr
Irani as Joint Managing Director with the approval of the board. While
others attributed Russi’s surrender as his professional defeat, the protagonist
took it in his stride. He wasn’t nursing any hurt, and the scars didn’t show,
as he stated at a press meet on January 2, in Jamshedpur, describing the
most talked about controversy as ‘storm in a tea cup’. With Dr Irani sitting
beside him, Russi told the reporters, “The Tisco controversy is a thing of
the past. We want to forget everything and begin a new chapter.” At the
same meeting, he also discussed several issues pertaining to Company’s
policies.
No way did this unsavoury debate dissuade Russi from being a well-
wisher of the organisation. Tisco was after all his first love, and he talked
about business, liberalisation, new policies, investment, and the steel
decontrol proposal, and so on. While talking about the industrial scenario,
he welcomed the liberalisation policy of the present government and its
decision to invite foreign investment. “The country”, he said, “would be
bene-fited in many ways as NRIs would not only bring foreign exchange
and technical know-how into the country but also generate employment.”
When a section of the press asked him about his strategy after the
government’s decision to decontrol the steel market, he replied, “Tisco will
not effect any price hike in the wake of steel decontrol order. At the same
time, I want to convey to the public at large, that we in the private sector –
particularly in the steel sector – will not act irresponsibly but mostly in the
country’s interests. Tisco would not try ad hoc price hikes. Of course, that
does not mean Tisco would hold the price line forever. The pricing policy
will be reviewed after a few weeks. With Tisco in the private sector and
Vishakapatnam steel plant and SAIL in the public sector artificially holding
the price line, how can one accept that we are in the liberalisation mode?
Does it not appear to be anachronistic? I don’t think so. All parties, I
presume, have agreed to keep the price in check for the time being. And
where is that cut-off point? It will be decided in the near future. Then, truly,
it would be a liberalisation era.”
Despite all the attempts made by Russi to resolve the issue, the rift
between him and the Tatas seemed to grow with time. What began as a
battle of ego over Russi’s decision to promote two of the young executive
directors, without the board’s consent, turned into a tussle with the Tata
Sons Chairman, Ratan Tata, over the retirement policy. It was sometime in
the middle of April 1992 that again a rumour was doing the rounds in
Jamshedpur regarding the resignation of Russi as CMD of Tisco.
Apprehending a massive shock, all political bodies, trade unions and
authorities in charge of the township, sought immediate intervention of the
group patriarch, JRD Tata, to set this speculation at rest. But those who
were close to Bombay House knew it was a mere rumour, for they were
aware that a plan was on the anvil not to extend Russi’s term further, after it
was to be over in 1993.
After Dr Irani’s interview with India Today, it was considered to have
gained more ground. In the said interview, he had expressed his desire for
the top slot of Tisco under the chairmanship of Ratan Tata. “It would never
have been possible for Dr Irani to speak to the press so boldly, had Ratan
Tata censored it”, was the general view of the commoners of Jamshedpur.
About 70,000 people associated with the Company and its collieries were in
a tizzy at the latest developments. “We looked up to him as our god”, they
said. “Neither his predecessors nor his successors could match either his
performance or his charisma. His presence in Jamshedpur meant a lot to us.
It’s a pity that the king had to leave the throne so unceremoniously”, felt a
retired executive of Tisco.
It was barely a few months to go before Russi would celebrate his 75th
birthday that the Tatas passed a resolution that stipulated seventy-five years
as the age limit for the non-executive chairman and sixty-five years for the
executive chairman and managing director. Was it sheer coincidence or
smart corporate strategy to oust the reigning marshal? The mystery stays
unresolved. One might question why such a plan never cropped up before?
If Naval Tata and Moolgaokar could continue as they did well into their ripe
age, then why couldn’t Russi? These posers still remain unanswered. A few
incidents, one after another, led the situation to a state, which by all means,
didn’t bear the genial trait of Tata culture. Now it came to light that Russi
had received a letter from Dr Irani, written on December 11 of 1991,
accusing him of following “the British dictum of divide and rule”,
displaying “cowardice more than courage”, demonstrating “callousness and
maybe, even cruelty”, having an “intention to create confusion” that would
damage “the Company and its future”, being vindictive against “persons
who step out of line”. He completed the last paragraph of the letter by
adding, “It is time for me to stand up and be counted”.
Though shocked by the tenor of this note, Russi had kept it under wraps
and stayed silent. And now he chose his timing to respond, as he wrote back
to Dr Irani on May 5 of 1992, “I have held off writing this letter for nearly
four months now because I had hoped that you use that period to remove
the provocation. Unfortunately, you have made no attempt to do so. And so
it is my sad duty to set down on paper the hurt and anguish that your actions
have caused me. When a joint managing director calls his chairman a
cowardly, vindictive, cruel manipulator whose actions will damage the
Company, and then declares that he is prepared to stand up and be counted,
it sounds suspiciously like the opening shot in a coup attempt.” He referred
to Dr Irani’s interview with India Today, stating it as an appalling display of
his naked ambition for power. Since Dr Irani had referred to the Tata
culture, in his letter, Russi gave a befitting reply: “As you are perhaps
aware, I know a little bit about the Tata culture, because my father was a
Director of Tata Sons, and Tisco is the only Company I have worked for.
But I had no idea that such elements as abuse, written threats, coup attempts
and insubordination had been introduced into the Tata culture that I was
brought up on.” There was no exaggeration in Russi’s statement, for Sir
Homi Mody had packed off his son to a dusty Jamshedpur, diagonally
opposed to his English lifestyle awash in affluence. The lad, instead of
detesting the place, had embraced the sons and soil of the township.
The Arthur D Little report had also studied the future expansion of the
Company, restructuring and strengthening the management, with
globalisation prospects. It was assumed that there were only two copies of
this highly confidential report, commissioned at the cost of $1.5 million. It
was also being alleged that Russi, who was privy to the report as against a
generalised version that was prepared for the board, used it to demote those
he did not like, and promote those he favoured. The rival camp got another
version publicised in the media, which reportedly said that marketing was
the weakest point in Tisco, and also suggested that the office of chairman-
managing director be segregated, implying that Dr Irani was suitable as his
successor since Russi was getting on in age.
But one question being raised time and again by some seniors at Tisco
was: “Since chairmen and managing directors of other Tata companies, like
Telco and Tata Tea, were permitted to choose their successors, why had
Russi been denied that freedom, particularly when the expertise and
credentials of both Kashyap and Hussein were beyond question?” It became
increasingly clear by the day that a group of Bombay House wanted to tread
on the toes of the chairman of Tisco. While other houses, like Birlas with
larger stakes, chose not to interfere with Tisco’s boardroom affairs and
remained aloof in the ongoing brouhaha, Tata Sons Limited with a meagre 8
per cent of equity became more vociferous about the reshuffle made by the
Tisco Chairman. “Nor were others, like financial institutions (44.93 per
cent), including nationalised banks and mutual funds, public equity holders
(42.62 per cent) and Non-resident Indians (1.6 per cent) so strident about
the looming change in the hierarchy of the Tisco board”, a keen corporate
observer of the whole episode noted.
Anyway, a day before the historic board meeting of Tisco, JRD invited a
few selected directors to meet in an informal get-together, perhaps, to work
out a strategy. This certainly made the speculation rife about the state of
affairs in the Company; it was further heightened by the fact that the name
of Russi Mody, the chairman and managing director of Tisco was not in the
list of those directors. This was perhaps the first time that a meeting was
convened by none other than JRD where Russi was not invited. But they
failed to arrive at any pragmatic solution. The battle, which had begun a
couple of months back, seemed to reach a feverish pitch. Ratan Tata
remained determined to get the resolution on retirement issue passed by the
board. Directors, like Nani Palkhivala, Darbari Seth, and Nusli Wadia, tried
various options to strike a compromise, but nothing resulted in what could
have been mutually acceptable to both Ratan Tata and Russi Mody. As far
as Russi was concerned, he had nothing against fixing a retirement age for
chairman of Tisco; he wanted it to be done by consensus and not by
coercion.
 
 
IT WAS MAY 28 OF 1992. The clock in Bombay House awaited the
explosion, which threatened to shake the very roots of Tisco, and the
corporate historians were all set to chronicle every moment of that
detonation in an Indian corporate. But as the suspense reached its climax, it
seemed, some invisible power defused the tension. In this ruckus, they
seemed to have lost sight of the Company’s actual performance in 1991-92,
the primary reason why the board was meeting on May 28. The results were
superb, with turnover touching Rs 2,895 crore, Rs 564 crore more than in
the previous year. And profit before tax escalated to Rs 278 crore, Rs 40
crore higher, and net profit shot up to Rs 214 crore, Rs 54 crore more than
the year before. As for the exports, the figures escalated to Rs 449 crore
(1990-91 figures: Rs 207 crore). These were not mere figures, but
vindication of Russi’s performance as CMD. It was later commented that if
he had actually let the Tisco board vote on his future, would the directors
really have been able to sack him?
Ratan Tata had sent out letters to all Tata companies, informing them
about the resolution on the retirement age, and suggesting they should
follow suit. And irked by this resolution passed by the Board of Tata Sons,
Russi called it a “Black Resolution, framed with Machiavellian intent”, for
this scale would be used to get him out, as he turned seventy-five in the
ensuing January of 1993. And he wondered if his contract could be termi-
nated midway before June the same year. Though it was certain that the
impending board meeting would be heated and contentious, it ended on a
note of bonhomie. Those staying close by the boardroom could perhaps
hear the popping of champagne. At 11 am, the same day, the board agreed
that Russi would retain his position as the chairman of Tisco, although in a
non-executive capacity. Most importantly, he would have no retirement age
to worry about. It was virtually a great victory for Russi, since he was
seeking respite from day-to-day rigmarole as the managing director of
Tisco. And Dr Irani, the Joint MD of the Company, realised his dream. It
was perhaps the sweetest moment in his life, when Russi proposed Dr
Irani’s name as his successor and he was to assume the charge officially on
July 22, in just two months. Although a few described the process as a
move to clip Russi’s wings, he was actually allowed to fly high. Being
endowed with more responsibility of globalising the business of the
Company, over and above his capacity as the chairman, he had an executive
committee of the board, comprising the Deputy Chairman Ratan Tata, the
Vice Chairman Sabavala, and the MD Dr Irani, to counsel him on the
company affairs.
Thus, a forbidding dispute was laid to rest. “I am happy”, remarked
Russi, as he was preparing to leave for London. “I would lead as active a
professional life as ever. Dr Irani will be managing director as far as Tisco’s
Indian affairs are concerned. I will look after its foreign affairs, from
exports and imports to investments and collaborations. Even the coming
Eurobond issue will be under my control,” he added. However, Dr Irani was
not carried away by the decision of the board to offer him the top slot of
Tisco. When media literally mobbed him to get his byte and mails carrying
laudatory notes inundated him, he proclaimed, “My first priority is the steel
plant.” In his brief reaction to the controversy, which dominated the
corridors of the corporate world in the recent weeks, Dr Irani sounded
rather charitable, “Let us forget what has happened in the past six months
and put the personal interest behind. Let us think of the Company.”
All the same, with the Tisco board reaching a settlement, Russi not only
retained his position as the chairman, but also assumed the added
responsibility of looking after Company’s overseas operations. As the
Company was about to spread its wings on the Euro-dollar market, it was
certainly a significant role that Russi had to play. Although experts had
interpreted the appointment of an executive committee of some heavy-
weights, as a tactic of the Tatas to circumscribe his power as the chairman,
it would perhaps be not so naïve of anyone to call it a recognition given to
him, so that he would remain directly associated with all the major policy
decisions concerning the Company’s operations.
The dark clouds thus cleared for the time being, and a sense of relief
prevailed. But a question continued to hover in the minds of many whether
Russi, whose tenure as chairman expired in June of 1993, would still insist
on another term. Considering the support that the Tatas enjoyed on the
board of directors and Ratan Tata breathing down his neck, he could by no
means avoid another storm in Tisco boardroom. The compromise settlement
might have staved off the battle between Russi and the Tatas, but it would
be noteworthy that the issue of superannuation, which had unlikely been
buried forever, was most likely to be taken up at the board meeting in
August of the same year. It was true that the changes made at the last board
meeting helped in bringing down the mercury level a notch or two, but it
was perhaps truer that they also initiated a change in the lifestyle of Tisco,
particularly in Jamshedpur. “This was the beginning of an era’s end at
Jamshedpur”, said a local inhabitant. Russi had been a lot of things to a lot
of people. No one could wish away the lasting stamp of his persona on the
Company including the township of Jamshedpur and collieries so soon.
Ever since the May 28 board meeting of Tisco, it was all set that Russi
would step down as the chief executive. The corporate circuit expected the
announcement at the July 21 annual general meeting to be a mere formality.
But what was unknown to outsiders was the turbulence and uncertainties
that rocked the Tisco board for a period of seven weeks. This time too it
was Dr Irani who continued to launder the soiled linen in public, breaking
the Company’s protocol. In an interview with the prestigious journal, The
Illustrated Weekly of India, in July of 1992, the would-be supremo of Tisco
made veiled as well as pointed references to Russi’s style of operations, and
how things could have been better at the steel company. Naturally, such an
attempt to denounce his performance provoked the Tisco chief. In the said
interview, while talking about how soon the polarisation within the ranks of
the Company could be taken care of, Dr Irani tried to project a picture that
especially during the last two years the officials had to spend days in
apprehension of being sidelined unless they got on well with the big boss.
 However, anyone who had ever visited Jamshedpur, this statement
would appear to be totally contrarian to what the local people had to say
about their demigod, Mody Saab. The phenomenal popularity of Russi
could be fathomed from what an ordinary tribal worker, Biru Munda said,
“Babu,aaj kucch bhi ho par hum to yahi samajhte hain ki Tisco ka doosra
naam Russi Mody hai. (Sir, whatever may happen today, we believe that
Tisco’s other name is Russi Mody).” Such feelings were overriding the steel
city, for “Mody Saab did not only run an industry, he had performed a key
role in the development and social welfare activities of the town”, said
Naresh Deogam, a shop owner in the Kadma area. In yet another statement,
Dr Irani seemed to have gone a little further in describing Mody’s PR
practice as a guise to build his own image and not the Company’s. Albeit,
this time Ratan Tata handled the situation adroitly in persuading Dr Irani to
issue a rejoinder to the press paying tribute to Russi’s role in bringing Tisco
to its present stature.
Now entered Nusli Wadia, the Chairman of Bombay Dyeing and a close
confidant of Ratan Tata, who succeeded in counteracting what could well
have triggered another crisis in Tisco. Using his equation with both Ra-tan
and Russi, he dispensed the role of a successful mediator with aplomb. On
July 20, he brought both of them together over lunch at the exclusive
Belvedere at Bombay’s Oberoi Hotel and made it happen – that is, strike the
deal. Bearing no grudge against anyone (the virtue he imbibed from his
parents), Russi accepted the inevitable to step down as the chief executive
of Tisco. As for his new position as non-executive chairman, it was to
remain not just till 1993, but also extended to another three years. And the
board consented that Russi would be entitled to a handsome remuneration,
so that his personal lifestyle did not suffer.
It had almost been five months since Russi stepped down as the
managing director of Tisco. But, how others, who worked under him, were
placed under Dr Irani’s rule? Business Standard reported on December 18
of 1992, “…all top Mody appointees are being transferred to less significant
jobs.” Russi was also conspicuous by his absence at the ceremony held by
Tisco to dedicate their new one million tonne hot metal blast furnace to the
nation. That the Tatas wanted to wipe out the name of Russi Mody from
their record, became quite evident when no one chose to refer to his
contribution to the modernisation of the plant, even once in their speech. It
was rather unfortunate that the one who conceived the idea was left out in
the cold from the celebration of the implementation of that very idea. The
cere-mony was scheduled to be held on December 9 of 1992, which had to
be postponed due to the curfew after Ayodhya incident. But Russi was so
keen to take part that despite the curfew he made the effort to reach
Jamshedpur from Calcutta. On reaching there, Russi got to know that the
event had been deferred without prior intimation to the chairman, and he
left for London. Ultimately, the function was held. The Tisco management
didn’t wait for the curfew to be lifted and for Russi to return. Was it a
matter of Company’s convenience or corporate politics, is yet another
unanswered question.
Whatever might have been the undercurrents of Russi-Tata imbroglio,
the fact remained that Russi’s services were to be retained even after his
tenure expired in June of 1993. But right from November 26 of 1991, till
Russi decided to call it a day, there was constant clash between him and the
Tisco board of directors. Now age factor appeared more of a lame excuse to
write him off from the board of Bombay House. Although he said on the
eve of his birthday on January 17, 1993, “I retire only according to my
wish,” Russi had given enough indication that he did not wish to continue
for more than a few months. Sometime around the first week of March
1993, Russi decided to quit Tisco.
Meanwhile, Russi was getting offers galore, and it must have added to
his sang-froid that his demand in the corporate world was still furnace-hot.
But he emphatically ruled out any plans to join Mukand Limited, the
Bombay-based special steel manufacturer that had put a bid for the privati-
sation of the public sector Indian Iron and Steel Company (IISCO). Rajesh
Shah, the executive director of Mukand Limited put down the rumour that
Russi had practically accepted their offer to take over as executive chairman
of IISCO, as completely baseless. And when Russi was asked whether he
would accept such an offer, he replied, “How can I? Indian Iron is a
subsidiary of SAIL. How can SAIL employ a seventy-five-year-old man?”
But Russi was clear. He didn’t want to seek re-election after his term as
member of Tisco board expired in June of 1993. And he was extremely
desolate about the operational results of the Company during the fiscal
period 1992-93. While the Company’s export figures registered a growth,
its overall performance took a dip. And Russi didn’t want to face the severe
criticism of the shareholders. It may be noted here that the Company’s
performance for the first-half of the current fiscal year had been dismal with
net profit declining to Rs 50.22 crore, which was less than half the figure of
Rs 104.29 crore earned during the corresponding period of the previous
year. The Company’s second-half results also did not promise to be
encouraging. In view of its none-too-inspiring prospects, the price of Tisco
share had considerably slumped from the high of Rs 560 attained a year
back during the bull-run.
 
 
IT WAS MARCH 11 OF 1993, and 11.45 am, when the corporate world
witnessed the end of an era – an association that lasted fifty-three years.
Russi walked out of the Tisco boardroom when the meeting had gone on for
barely fifteen minutes. Although the issue of implementing the retirement
policy was not on the agenda, it was initiated by JRD, who thought it was
necessary for Tisco to adopt the policy soon, as other companies of the Tata
Group had already followed it – barring these four – Tisco, Tata Timken,
Tata Mann and Tata Korf, all headed by Russi Mody. As reported in The
Telegraph of March 12, Russi walked out of the company’s boardroom in a
huff after a retirement policy he had resisted was brought up for discussion
by JRD. Anyway, the meeting went on to pass a unanimous resolution that
retired Russi from a Company he had served for more than half-a-century.
A statement released by Tisco said that the date of Russi’s retirement would
be finalised in consultation with him, and upon his retirement from the
Company, the present Deputy Chairman Ratan Tata would be appointed as
the chairman of the company’s board.
It was late in the evening; Russi was about to leave for London. The
telephone in the corner of his room was ringing, breaking the silence at his
Prithviraj Road apartment in New Delhi. It was JRD at the other end. The
octogenarian patriarch of the Tata Group wanted to confirm when Russi, his
one-time lucky mascot and considered the real contender to be his
successor, would not only intend to step down from the throne, but call it
quits by May 1. In fact, Tisco’s board of directors had requested the old
man to convey the board’s recommendation on Russi’s retirement package
and know when he would finally relinquish the charge as the chairman of
the company and director of the board. Russi confirmed to JRD that he had
decided to resign on May 21. The message was conveyed to the board, so
that it could be tabled as the first item of the agenda at the next board
meeting, which was slated to be held on April 19 of 1993.
But high-voltage drama during the next five days rocked Bombay
House. It was on April 15 that Russi gave an interview to Chennai-based
English daily, The Hindu, in which he raised his finger at some anomalous
moves of Tisco’s management, which, in his perception, would not bring
better prospects to the organisation. He spoke of the plans hatched by some
persons in the Company to oust him. He said that his decision to promote
Kashyap and Hussein was used to bring about a charge against him. He
conceded that he had made a blunder and said, “The only mistake that I
made was backtracking on the issue. I should have stuck to my guns.” (Two
weeks earlier in a television interview, he had said that both Kashyap and
Hussein were promoted on the basis of their merit. And he also warned that
“Mody loyalists are in for a tough time after I have gone”).
Though Dr Irani denied that knives were being sharpened against the
Russi loyalists, Dr SN Pandey, who retired as Director, Industrial Relations,
went to the press to complain that the Company had not settled his
retirement dues, and the implication was his closeness to Russi. While
talking about the performance of Tisco, as he was forced to quit as
managing director, Russi blamed the management policy. “Now what is
happening in Tisco?” he said. “Profits have dwindled and projects, like the
cement factory are running behind schedule. The hot strip mill, costing Rs
1000 crore, is going to be commissioned without producing the requisite
raw materials for the same, with the result that profits would come down.
They are undoing what all I had done to optimise profits. In a mad rush to
optimise production, Tisco has lost Rs 40 crore. I would have earned for it
Rs 100 crore more profit in the same conditions. But the worst part is that
Tisco shares which were quoting around Rs 560, and were leading scrip on
the Bombay Stock Exchange, have tumbled down to below Rs 130 resulting
in a loss of Rs 6000 crore to the financial institutions, and about the same
amount to private investors, some of whose life savings have been wiped
out.”
While the Tisco board was ready to take action against Russi, the Vice
Chairman Sabavala tried to refute those points raised by Russi in The Hindu
interview, in his counter attack, as reported in Business World:

The Tisco scrip touched the highest level on April 2, 1992, at Rs

692.50. By the time Russi Mody stepped down from managing
directorship of the Company on July 21, 1992, the scrip was quoted at
a low Rs 325. Reacting to Mr Mody’s statements in The Hindu that
Tisco shares had come crashing down from around Rs 560 to Rs 130,
thereby resulting in a loss of Rs 6,000 crore to Fls and wiping out life
savings of many small investors, Mr Sabavala stated that Tisco
reached its peak of Rs 692.50 on April 2, 1992. But by July 21 when
the annual general meeting was held it had already come down to Rs
325, he said, adding that Mr Mody, as managing director, was actively
in the day-to-day affairs of the Company till that date. “This proves
that the flat in the share price was in keeping with the general nature of
the stock market and not because of Mr Mody’s exit as managing
director”, he said.

Mody claimed that had he continued as managing director, he could

have produced an additional profit of Rs 100 crore in 1992-93, through
various cost-saving measures and a proper product mix. Sabavala
countered this by saying, “Mr Mody did not tell the annual general
meeting last year that in the first three months of 1992-93, before he
stepped down as managing director, Tisco had accumulated losses of
Rs 40 crore. The fact is that in the next three months after he stepped
down the profit somewhat picked up, as is known, we ended up the
first six months with a very disappointing Rs 50 crore, showing a
swing of Rs 90 crore.”

Mody blamed the management for getting ready to commission the Rs

900 crore hot strip mill in Jamshedpur without ensuring that the raw
material mill – the slag caster – was set up. Sabavala squarely blamed
Mody for that. According to him, it was Mody who insisted that the
slag caster project be awarded to one foreign party and this involved a
forex outflow of £6-9 million. This reportedly led to protracted
negotiation with the government and delayed the slag caster project by
nearly a year-and-a-half. “That delay is the deliberate outcome of a
decision Mody took in spite of the fact that the then joint managing
 director, Dr Irani, advised against it”, said Sabavala. He insisted that
had the project been awarded to an alternative bidder, there would
have been no foreign exchange outflow, and hence no protracted
negotiation with the government.

Sabavala attributed the delay in the commissioning of the cement plant

at Jojobera to the continuing law and order problem which led to
constructional delays. “The delays happened at Mr Mody’s time and
the state government did not come to our rescue because of the
strained relationship between Mr Mody and Mr Lalu Prasad Yadav.
And despite Mr Mody we have worked very hard to establish an
amicable relationship with Mr Lalu Prasad.

When Russi was asked to explain how he could earn Rs 100 crore more
in the same fiscal year, his explanation would amaze any management
expert: “Let me state that we are now in a market economy and the market
decides the price. Even so, we are obtaining better prices than SAIL were
obtaining for similar products. And we are selling more than before. So if
we are selling, and we are selling at higher price than SAIL, and SAIL were
making profits and we were not, then the cause lay somewhere else. So the
answer lay in costs; costs were not being attacked at all in Jamshedpur.
Some years ago, we ran a computer model to work out how to maximise
profits, not production – unless the two could be combined. Whenever there
was a crisis, we decided to allocate resources and set up production levels
according to that model. The problem is that despite the recession, the
management of Tisco did not adhere to that model. They went for
increasing production just to show that they could do better than Russi
Mody. And Rs 40 crore loss has been sustained as a consequence of this.”
When this was pointed out to Dr Irani, he said, ‘impossible’ and asked the
general manager (accounts), to look into it. After a month and a half, he
came up with a figure of Rs 39.44 crore.
As per Sabavala, a fax was sent to Russi early in the morning on the
same day as the board was scheduled to meet at 11 am, on April 19, seeking
explanation on The Hindu interview. But how did Tatas overlook the fact
that Russi was in London, and given the minimum time difference of five
hours, wouldn’t it have been expedient to wait for his reply? This is what
actually transpired. Russi affirmed that he had replied within half-an-hour
of receiving this query from Sabavala by about 11 am and by the time
Sabavala got his reply, it must be 4 pm in Bombay. By then, they had
already sacked him and made it public through a press release. So the
management of Tisco could not really take the line that “Russi had forfeited
the right to be informed gracefully”. The message was clear – though Russi
may indisput-ably have been the architect of Tisco’s success, the Tatas
would no way permit any such “corporate autocracy to dictate the trend”.
Interestingly, Nantoo Banerjee, the former editor of corporate affairs,
Business Standard (then special correspondent) happened to be present at
Bombay House, given the significant board meeting. As an alert journo
wanting to get Russi’s reaction, he tried to reach him at Grosvenor House in
London where he was staying, since he had his contact numbers. States
Banerjee, “I did not call to inform him but get his reaction. I called him up
at 12 noon right after the board meeting was over. It was 6.30 in the
morning in London and they wouldn’t transfer the call saying it was too
early to disturb him. I told them, ‘It’s too urgent and it can’t wait. Tell him
heavens would fall if he didn’t take this call.’ Russi took the call and
lovingly cursed me for waking him up at that wretched hour. He was
shocked to hear the news: ‘I can’t believe this,’ was his immediate reaction.
After a pause, he sounded very emotional as he asked, ‘Is this all I deserve
after serving the Tatas for fifty-three years? I have nothing against Ratan.
He’s the natural successor as the Chairman of Tata Sons when we all would
fade away. I really don’t know who’s making all these things happen in
Bombay House and creating such unbelievable bitterness. They could have
waited for me to come back. I was leaving anyway.’ He sounded more sad
than bitter.”
Russi was known to have given telephonic interviews to every Indian
journalist who called him up in London or New York that were widely
splashed in the media: “I only received a garbled fax from the company
secretary,” he had maintained, “saying that they had sent me the press
release that announced my dismissal. This is in response to a press inter-
view in which I said that nobody had informed me that I’d been sacked. So
they’ve sent me a note from this man addressed to ‘Dear Sir’ stating that the
press release ‘constitutes official intimation’. Not one phone call, not one
letter. I’m supposed to have learnt about it from a press release and
according to them, that’s all I deserve.” But to Russi’s supporters this was
positive proof that all Ratan Tata had wanted to do all along, was oust him.
“The drama over the promotions of Kashyap and Hussein last year”, they
argued, had now to be placed in a new context. “For by January of 1993,
Ratan had claimed that he was acting to preserve the authority of the Tata
Steel Board. But now, by imposing a resolution passed by Tata Sons (which
owned only eight per cent of Tata Steel), he was actually subverting the
very authority of the board he had once said he was protecting. After all, it
is the directors of Tata Steel that rule on the Company’s retirement policies,
not the directors of Tata Sons.”
When Russi was probingly asked that he could have been a bit more
tolerant before he decided to severe all links, he was reported to have said,
“It was my moral duty to keep the shareholders informed of the latest
development of the Company I had chaired. With their growing anxiety and
panic, I could not possibly keep whitewashing all the wrongdoings. Truth
always hurts, but time will prove that I have been right.” Russi never took
his sacking by Tisco as a defeat in the long-drawn battle with Bombay
House, for, in his glossary, “it had been a one-sided affair”.
 
 
WHAT AN UNCEREMONIOUS SEND-OFF Russi got in contrast to the
farewell speech by JRD in May of 1959, in honour of Sir Homi Mody, his
father:
…We salute in him a great human being, a great gentleman, and one
of the most lovable men one could ever want to meet. His
generosity, his loyalty to his friends and to any cause he espouses –
and he espouses many of them, sometimes lost causes – his political
courage, his truculent independence of views, his legendary wit,
which he uses as often at his own expense as that of others, his
refusal ever to be cowed down by anybody or by any event,
however calamitous it may be, all these form an important and
characteristic part of Sir Homi’s life. Above all, to me he’s one of
the staunchest of friends and one ever ready to share one’s burden. I
shall miss him more than I can say…
In response, Sir Homi had delivered this cheerful speech:
 You can imagine I cannot be in too happy a mood on such an
occasion. As Mr Tata has rubbed it in that this is the third occasion
on which Bombay House is holding a function in my honour. And I
was going to say that it looks like being the last until I heard the
heartening words of the Chairman. The very large numbers in which
you have gathered here today prove to me that my impending
departure has aroused a great deal of enthusiasm…
…With the advent of our present Chairman, there was terrific
onrush of new ideas and methods and all manner of American
gadgets and devices invaded Bombay House, which got a new look
altogether. If any one of you wants to see a Director these days, you
will find your entrance barred by at least half-a-dozen lights. If it is
an orange light, then it means that the boss is speaking on the
telephone; if it is a yellow light, it means he is dictating something
to his secretary; there will be some other light if there is somebody
in the room – it would be a pink light if it was a man, and if it was a
red light then sure enough it would be a girl. Then supposing he was
doing a bit of thinking, which of course does not happen very often,
there would be a blue light; and you would be very, very lucky if
you ever struck a green light. You could then walk in, but the
Director would probably pretend to be very busy… All in all, I have
great admiration and affection for our Chairman, and I think Tatas
are singularly fortunate in having as their Chief a man of such wide
vision and such a fine sense of right and wrong…
Such a stark contrast, thirty-four years hence!
Although Dr Irani was reported to have eventually paid a tribute to his
predecessor, “He was a charismatic chairman who took Tisco to great
heights. His industrial relations were excellent,” his mission had been duly
accomplished. Since he had made it fairly obvious that he regarded himself
as the next executive head, at fifty-four, he was clearly not willing to wait
till the expiry of Russi’s second term in 1998, assuming he got a renewal.
The general consensus was that “Russi turned out to be probably the
world’s worst corporate manipulator, who played into the hands of his
detractors.”
 Freddie A Mehta, Director, Tata Sons, had declared: “The leadership
question within the Tatas has been resolved. Everybody has accepted Ratan
Tata as the new leader.” Later Ratan Tata defended the retirement rule in an
interview: “We may all feel that we are supermen and can have the same
energy at seventy-five and eighty, as we did in our younger days. But can
you run around the marketplace? Can you have the perspective to take the
Company into the next century? Shouldn’t you give up the executive
position to a younger person, but remain on the board so your wisdom and
experience can be availed of...? The top echelons of the Tata Group today
are filled with younger people who never had the chance of showing what
they could do because the people at the top never moved...” However,
immediately after taking over as the Chairman of Tisco, Ratan Tata, in a
letter to his colleagues and senior company personnel, recorded “Our
appreciation of the great contribution made in the past years by Mr Russi
Mody.”
Incidentally, JRD was eighty plus when he handed over the baton to
Russi as chairman of Tisco, in 1984. Ironically, in a letter addressed to his
‘Dear Jeh’ on April 30 of 1992, Russi is reported to have written that
despite his repeated efforts during the last twenty-five years to convince the
top brass of the Tata Group, of fixing a retiring age for everyone in the
Company, no one paid the slightest heed to the issue. In fact, he had been
told off, and nearly “chewed up in anger” by late Naval Tata while at a
dinner in Geneva. Subsequently, JRD, Naval Tata and Sumant Moolgaokar
carried on irrespective, but when Russi reached that phase of his career,
Tisco board made its best endeavour to implement the retirement policy. To
him it was really shocking, for he was not mentally or physically prepared
for it. He mentioned that although he had no objection to accepting the
resolution implementing a retirement policy, he wanted a little more time,
so that he could secure his plans well for the future. He never wanted to
retain his post forever, resting on others. He also wrote that although Ratan
Tata had been flexible enough to let him carry on for a few months after one
reached the retirement age, he would find no point in hanging around once
the decision was taken.
It was rather surprising that Russi who was more of a statesman-
manager couldn’t read the writing on the wall. He should have known better
that no way he would have been able to muster any political support,
whether it was the Finance Minister Manmohan Singh, Prime Minister
Narasimha Rao, or the hotshots of financial institutions, for Tata Group by
now in the early ’90s, was the largest conglomerate with seventy-six
companies accounting for an aggregate turnover around Rs 84,000 crore. It
was a corporate war in the real sense with the Board of Tata Sons, and both
Ratan and JRD Tata were insisting on “an issue of principle and of
professionalism”. But in hindsight, once all the haze cleared, it dawned a bit
too late on an otherwise astute Russi that he was “totally outmanoeuvred”.
The one who always claimed being “a straight man”, he maintained that
“I’ve never been comfortable with boardroom manipulations. It took me a
long time to realise that Ratan’s opposition was not because of anything I
had done. It was because I stood in his way. If the two Tatas decided they
wanted Russi Mody out, then what chance did I have? This business of my
promoting Aditya because he was my favourite was an issue that they found
convenient to feed to the media. I played into their hands with those
promotions even though I preserved Dr Irani’s seniority. The real issue was
that Ratan wanted to become chairman of the major Tata companies while
JRD was still alive. They should have been satisfied when I stepped down
as managing director. Why hound me out of the chairmanship? Why sack
me? By then, it was clear that I was not running Tisco, and the truth is that I
never interfered with Dr Irani. Even he went and told JRD, ‘I must admit,
Russi is not interfering’.”
Some of the scribes saw Aditya Kashyap as an enigma in Russi’s life.
As an ace business journalist opines, “Both Russi and Aditya were very
devoted to each other. When they were together, it produced a different
chemistry. It was a relationship built on great respect and trust for each-
other and mutual admiration. Aditya was always very respectful towards
Russi even when he was in disagreement with him.” Nevertheless, stung by
direct, frontal attack on his protégé Aditya, Russi too had questioned the
managerial abilities of Ratan Tata, who at the onset of 1960s, had gone to
Jamshedpur to learn the ropes under his tutelage. And Russi highlighted
how Ratan had paid a glowing tribute to him as ‘Napoleon of Smiles’,
while writing in Tisco’s commemorative publication, Glimpses of a
Legend: “I first met Russi in 1962 at Jamshedpur. I was a mere mortal
under training at that time while Russi was up near the gods. Despite the
difference in position, Russi was a friend to many of us who were starting
life in Jamshedpur at that time. He was hospitable, he always spared the
time to give us advice, his house was open to us, and we enjoyed a great
deal of his hospitality. His wittiness and humour made those days light-
hearted and unforgettable...over the years, our friendship has grown, and
most importantly, has stood the acid test of all friendship – that of time and
distance.”
Now that things had taken a strange turn, “perhaps a sequel should be
published to this”, remarked a sardonic Russi asserting that he had “treated
Ratan very well when he was a trainee”. And he qualified that further
saying, “There is no question of liking or disliking him. I only talked about
his track record as a manger. The difference is that I say things openly. They
plant stories through others. I have been called squanderer of public money,
a smuggler, a megalomaniac and all that, I am not complai-ning… But let
me be fair, if by megalomaniac they mean that at the end of the day, after
having listened to everyone, I made up my own mind, then that’s true… I
kept saying a lot of things in jest, like ‘my idea of democracy is that
everybody should have an opportunity to agree with me!’ The average
worker knew that he could come and see me with his problems... If you
have entered the fight, you must not squeal. You must be man enough to
take it, as well as dish it out.”
At an informal press conference in May of 1993 in Jamshedpur, Ra-tan
Tata made two statements as the new Tisco chief, which many saw as quite
significant. The first was rather in a light vein that he would not stay in
Jamshedpur, because it was like a prison. He would rather stay where the
ocean is, that is, in Bombay. The second was that Tisco would not be affec-
ted by the exit of Russi Mody. And when asked for his reaction to Ratan’s
statements, Russi had replied: “Ratan is quite right. No one is
indispensable. My disappearance from Jamshedpur may not be felt, but the
arrival of Ratan Tata and Dr Irani will certainly make a difference. It’s all
like a circus – the serious acts of entertainment are always shown first.
Then come the clowns and the animal trainers. That may well be the case in
Tisco.” Russi’s blatant sarcasm was a sign that he was smarting and it was
beginning to show: “When I go to Jamshedpur, I tell them that I have gone
into the textile business, to make saris, because I can give them to the Tisco
management. They should all be wearing saris, not trousers.”
But behind this derision was also the indisputable fact that even after
becoming the chairman, Russi didn’t shift his base to Bombay headquarters
to run Tisco with remote control. He remained stationed in Jamshedpur and
Calcutta. At Jamshedpur, Russi was larger than life, riding an elephant on
his birthday and celebrating with one-tonne laddoo, a 400-kg cake, dancing
with tribal workers, and making irrepressibly witty public statements. When
questioned on such extravagance, his answer would be as forthright, “I
enjoy life in its totality. I work hard, I play hard. And I hide nothing through
hypocrisy.”
On the contrary, Dr Irani was very much the steel technocrat, plain and
direct, and at that point his current presidentship of the Confederation of
Indian Industry (CII) was a high-spot in his public life. The situation was
thus perceived by an analyst of corporate affairs, “Considering that Russi is
a born manager, with this awesome ability to turn even a sworn enemy into
a reasonably good friend once he managed to meet that person, the real big
mistake that he made was being less charitable to Dr Irani, an excellent
manager himself. He also did not trust Dr Irani as much as he trusted his
hand-picked men in the executive committee. It was unfortunate that Russi
and Dr Irani did not get along well. Both Kashyap and Hussein were
absolutely razor sharp and brilliant in their respective areas of management.
They were excellent human beings and Russi spotted them early. As a
Chairman cum CEO of Tisco, Russi thought he reigned supreme. He did not
belong to the present crop of CEOs who pretend to play the part of
management accountability to the non-executive board routinely by the
copy book, more as a good gesture, than for its genuine participation in the
decision-making on vital matters, such as appointments, promotions and
remuneration.”
 
IN 1989-90, RUSSI IN HIS ADDRESS to shareholders had proclaimed that
if he were to live his life all over again, he would change many things but
not his association with Tisco. At an age when others would have hung their
boots, and look out for respite, Russi carried on with his pursuit of new
ventures. When he was almost seventy-four, on the brink of his retirement
from Tisco, he sprung up a new project on shrimp farming – Chilka Aquatic
Farm Ltd. Estimated to be Rs 15 crore project, it was decided that Tisco
would have a share of 30 per cent, while the Orissa Government would bear
a stake of 49 per cent. Apart from these, TOMCO (Tata Oil Mill Company
Ltd) and Otto India were about to have 18 and 3 per cent of share respec-
tively. This project was expected to step up the production of shrimps.
Beside being a venture, which would involve recycling of an otherwise
discarded piece of wasteland, Russi was also hopeful that the scheme would
prove to be beneficial for the local fishermen community, as they would be
earning 35 per cent more than what they were at that point of time. All that
technological support would have improved their living standards. He was
also of the view that if successful, it would supplement the State
Government’s plan to bring down the economic disparity between the rural
poor and urban rich.
Russi was a man of the moment. When journos questioned him about
the environment pollution, since the Orissa Krishak Samaj was protesting
against the use of motorboats with diesel engine, he had a ready answer:
“What about the roads in cities polluting the hearts of the children, who are
the future of the country? I’m with you, but first think of the human
beings.” Despite the fact that the project could have brought prosperity to
the region, Russi faced strong resistance from some members of Parliament.
And Srikanta Jena, an MP representing Janata Dal asked Russi not to carry
on with his campaign, citing the reason that the local environs might face
the adverse effect of ecological imbalance. When Russi tried to justify that
a survey had already been conducted by Water & Power Consultancy
Services (India) Ltd, a government undertaking, the credibility of such a
survey was challenged. Well, he could see beneath the surface that what
was being presented as an apprehension of environmental hazards was, in
fact, a political game being played by the local prawn barons.
Finally, quitting as a director on Tisco board, Russi addressed his last
press conference in May of 1993, for Tata Metaliks, that he would continue
as its chairman at least till such time as the project of setting up a mini blast
furnace at Kharagpur for manufacturing 90,000 tonne per annum foundry
grade pig iron, at an estimated cost of Rs 51 crore was through without any
hitch. Russi was involved with the project right since its inception. Such an
attitude clearly exhibited that this is what had kept him going – his
unflagging zeal to set innovative precedents.
Russi’s German industrialist friend Willie Korf had imported this
technology of setting up mini blast furnaces from Brazil and developed the
technique so brilliantly that it became known as ‘Korf Technology’. Given
his foresight, Russi wanted to facilitate these furnaces in different locations
to service various regions. Even more significant was the fact that at that
point nobody was willing to make any substantial investment in West
Bengal. Russi had a terrific personal equation with the Chief Minister Jyoti
Basu, and wanted to establish how this technology could be a successful
endeavour to increase the steel production in small units under the right
management. He had to raise a public issue of Rs 37 crore and that was the
first attempt of its kind in this communist state. Neither was the market
buoyant nor was this state a lucrative option. And the plant was to be put up
at Kharagpur, a very difficult area both in terms of labour unrest and
negligible infrastructure in terms of roads, water or electricity. Russi
organised a press conference in Calcutta to announce the public issue. And
what a roaring response he got – the issue got subscribed more than twice
over. The sole reason was Russi’s personal assurance and it showed how
strong was his credibility as an industrialist that the public reposed faith in
his abilities to deliver in such hostile conditions.
Technology for the project was being supplied by Tata Korf Engineering
Ltd, while coke, the raw material required was to be procured from
Wellman Incandescent India Ltd, that was setting up a coal conversion plant
near the Tata Metaliks project site. Battle-scarred but a resolute Russi
declared that the commercial production would start by the year-end. And
since the project was entering the capital market soon, it would not be fair
to the shareholders if he were to walk out till it was firmly on the ground.
He picked up Daljit Singh as the managing director of Tata Metaliks Ltd.
Singh was formerly with an American multinational Philips Carbon Black
and met Russi frequently at the Calcutta Cricket and Football Club, when
he was made this offer to take over. This project was also accomplished
within the time-frame of eighteen months, remained as cost-effective, and
didn’t overshoot the allocation. That was the hallmark of Russi Mody –
how his thoughts, words and actions synchronised to wield phenomenal
results – and how he commanded the loyalty of his chief executives. All he
wanted was results, and all along he had his ear to the ground, and knew
exactly what was happening where.
 
 
IN NOVEMBER OF 1993, the battle took a new turn as Russi’s retirement
package led to another squabble. The severance package that he wanted
included the exclusive use of a flat in Calcutta (or alternative
accommodation worth up to Rs 2 crore) a three-bedroom holiday home in
Darjeeling, a flat on Delhi’s Prithviraj Road and a house in Sussex. By the
standards of ordinary mortals, Russi’s expectations of what Tata Steel
should have given him might seem wildly excessive – the services of
company-paid bearers, cooks, drivers, et al for life, a company car, medical
benefits in India and abroad, and some more. All these assets were to revert
to the Company after his demise.
Again Russi saw himself as the victim, as he had stated, “How can they
treat me like this after I have worked for them for fifty-three years? They
promised me a package of benefits, and then they went back on their word.”
He was fully aware that he was as much in a spin with all kinds of
allegations being hurled at him. Bound to bristle and smirk, he reacted, “I
have lived well, and fully enjoyed the perquisites of office. Some would say
to excess. But I have never made money for myself. My friends tell me I
have been a fool. When my father died, he left Rs 1 lakh to each of his three
sons. I spent mine in no time. So I began life without any money, and I will
end it the same way.” Once a friend of Russi asked him how he could afford
to go on Mediterranean cruises, and stay at the Ritz. He replied with an
amused grin: “My friends pay for the cruises. And I like to sleep silk
sheets.”
Once on holiday, Russi and his young wife Silloo stayed at the
Dorchester Hotel in London, where a double room cost around £4 a day. A
Tata Sons director moaned to Sir Homi that his son was living it up, which
in today’s parlance would be termed as ‘ostentatious living’; in other words,
what he meant was that Dorchester in Park Lane was no abode for a young
man and his wife. Russi gave it back in as many words that he was not
spending Company’s money as those expenses were being doled out from
his own pocket. So it should be of no concern to his bosses. Commented a
close friend of Russi, “If you look at it either way, it reflected that the
Politburo at Bombay House couldn’t reconcile the fact that a dapper Russi
had a lavish lifestyle, while he had gained enormous popularity among the
workers of Jamshedpur.”
 All those to whom Russi had caused a lot of heartburn, they blew up the
details of the cost of his chair at Tisco, that included his 17th floor
penthouse atop Calcutta’s Tata Centre and a fleet of Mercedes, BMW, Land
Rover, etc. A strong impression prevails that Russi has lived an urbane
high-life of a sophisticate and made a vast fortune to live off for the rest of
his life. Least apologetic about his elaborate lifestyle as he’s always loved
to live it up, he makes a startling revelation: “I don’t believe in hoarding
money. I have always invented ways to spend money and having a good
time rather than saving it.” And that is not surprising given his background,
never having to worry about money, and admittedly having inherited some
fortune from his mother Lady Jerbai, when she passed away in 1982. “I
have always had an overdraft at the bank”, insists Russi, and that sounds
strange coming from a magnate chosen by the BBC as one of the six major
money-makers in the world. He had also remarked in an interview with
Amrita Bazar Patrika, in December of 1987: “Money I make for my
organisation, not for myself. I have hardly any personal account.”
Russi continues to claim that “These days, I live like a maharaja with-
out a penny to my name. Let me put it this way. If I want to buy a swanky
car tomorrow, I wouldn’t have that kind of ready money. If you put all my
assets together, with the shares I own, I am not even worth a couple of
crores, for mostly those goods can’t be translated into cash. I promise you, I
have no connection with money. I don’t appreciate money, I don’t
depreciate money. I spend when I spend…sometimes the Company spends.
In fact, I am currently planning to sell my house at Belvedere to clear some
of my debts. My life is one that’s been lived on overdrafts. I have always
lived the life I loved to live, and the banks continued to help me do so. Even
during my days with the Tatas, I did not bother myself much about money.
But I suppose that was because I was handling someone else’s money. So I
simply hired some good chartered accountants to do the job. Every time you
talk of money you get into trouble. Many people criticised me for spending
Rs 28 lakh on lighting up the Victoria Memorial in Calcutta, so that people
could view it in the night too. But who gives a damn about what people
say?”
Once, the office-bearers of a small savings forum called on him,
requesting his presence as the guest of honour at their annual function.
Russi received them warmly but declined the invitation saying that when he
himself had not saved a single rupee in his life, how he could possibly
speak about savings to others. Not the one to preach what he never
practised! Naturally, the office-bearers were disappointed, but they could
see reason in his contention: “I think people should really not concern
themselves too much about money and concentrate, instead, on living a
jolly good life. Why worry about money and how to save it? And I can tell
you that the day you start thinking too hard about money, your life will be
one long mess.”
Going by the mind-blowing pay packages of CEOs in today’s corporate
world, it’s hard to believe that remuneration was something that was not
terribly important to Russi. According to a report published in The
Economic Times, on November 11 of 1986, Russi’s salary was reduced by
50 per cent by the management that ironically was headed by him only:
The terms of remuneration of Mr Russi Mody, Chairman of Tisco,
were scaled down by the management on its own, when the
resolution pertaining to the issue was about to be put to vote at the
Company’s annual general meeting today. Resolution No. 8 had an
explanation stating that Mr Mody’s salary would be Rs 20,000 per
month and the commission would be 0.1 percent of the net profit
subject to a maximum of Rs 1,20,000 per annum. The explanatory
note which was amended while the resolution was put to vote said
that salary of Mr Mody would be Rs 10,000 per month and the
commission would be subject to a maximum of Rs 60,000 per
annum…
It so happened that the Company Law Board, which was governed by
the antiquated Company’s Act of 1956, didn’t allow the director of a Joint
Stock Company to draw managerial remuneration beyond Rs 5000 as salary
and Rs 6000 as perks. In this year of ’86, when Prime Minister Rajiv
Gandhi was experimenting with a series of economic reforms including
bringing about changes in the Companies Act and Monopolies Act, Russi
challenged these archaic rules and asked the government to get more
realistic about the managerial remuneration. “Let this be decided by the
shareholders who own the company and not the government”, Russi had
argued. Explains Nantoo Banerjee: “This was an epoch-making event for
the entire managerial community in the country and a great professional
triumph for Russi as the subsequent developments proved. The government
took a close look at the whole issue of managerial remuneration and altered
the Act to recognise the shareholders’ right to approve or disapprove the
pay package of their directors. Thanks to Russi’s crusade – also a test case
by the House of Tatas against an arbitrary act of the government – these pay
packages have now cracked the ceiling. The present generation of corporate
honchos owe a lot to Russi for the kind of fancy salaries they draw as of
today. It was an unbelievable score for the whole industry. Russi’s life and
working style have little parallel in the Indian business environment, which
is why it is fitting that he was the only Indian to figure in the BBC series,
Money Makers.”
As for his retirement package, Russi had put up his list of what should
be duly given to him in early March of 1993, at a meeting in Jamshedpur
with JRD, Ratan Tata and Sabavala, after he was told that he would have to
retire in line with the group policy. Meanwhile, Russi had recorded this
discussion in a note to JRD on March 31. The patriarch of Bombay House
replied soon enough that the Sussex home could be provided only with the
board’s permission since it involved foreign exchange, and medical
facilities abroad were not possible. And added that they had readily
accepted the living accommodation he wished to continue to avail of in
India. But there was a rider that these retirement benefits would be placed
before the Tisco board for its approval.
It was also said that Russi’s version of ensuing events was recorded in
another letter to Ratan Tata, according to which the Tisco board met on
April 13, and JRD called up Russi after the meeting to inform him that the
board had agreed to the entire package of retirement benefits, with the
exception of the Clayton Priority in Sussex. But around this time, Russi
went public with criticism of the Tatas and he was summarily removed by
April 19. And it was Nani Palkhivala (whom Russi called ‘Naughty
Palkhivala’), who intervened and argued that the board was not empowered
to give Russi all the benefits that he wanted, and that the matter would have
to be first approved by the Company’s shareholders, and by the
government, while being emphatic about the tax implications of such
abundant perks to an ex-employee of the Company. Thus, Palkhivala made
the board ask JRD to explain the position to Russi. But after Russi recorded
in a letter that JRD had conveyed the board’s approval, the directors went
into a tizzy, for they did not approve of the entire package, and that Russi
could use the alternative Calcutta house at Belvedere Road, provided he
was willing to bear the implicit tax burden. And the other company guest
houses in India could be used by him as he so wished, but they would not
be for his exclusive use. Refusing to accept the deal, he expressed his
surprise that the Tisco board would ever disapprove of a commitment that
had been agreed upon by JRD, Ratan and Sabavala to him, saying, “This is
beyond my experience and comprehension.”
Meanwhile, in a letter to Russi in May of 1993, Ratan Tata asked him to
vacate all the company accommodation by 30th of September, and return all
company property in his use on the same date. Russi’s response to Ratan’s
note was that “it is not in accordance with what was agreed between us as
constituting my severance terms”, and he referred to their agreement at
Jamshedpur and JRD’s telephonic confirmation of the board’s approval in
April. So there was no question of his complying with Ratan’s request. And
just as that deadline approached, Russi knocked the doors of the court
seeking justice.
Eventually, in April of 1994, Russi agreed to deposit a sum of Rs 1.60
crore, as consideration money for the Belvedere Road bungalow, his current
residence in Alipur area, with his advocate-on-record in the proceedings
pending before the Calcutta High Court. Earlier he had filed a counter
petition against Tisco stating that his nominee was ready with money along
with stamp papers, but the Company had failed to furnish the necessary
income tax clearance certificate, and no-objection certificate from the
Urban Land Ceiling & Regulations Act, so he could not tender the
consideration money. The house belonged to Stewarts & Lloyds, a
Company controlled by the Tatas. To get around this, Russi offered to buy
the Alipur house through his new trading company, Mobar, which he had
started in partnership with industrialist Bajorias.
 
 
RUSSI STILL TAKES AS MUCH PRIDE in every success of the Tatas.
When Russi joined Tisco in 1939, the Company was in its infancy. Today,
Tata Steel is Rs 17,000-crore colossus which has won an epic battle against
another big Company from Brazil to bag Anglo-Dutch Corus for $11.3
billion. Commenting on the Company’s performance, he said recently, “I
have not been in charge for the last fourteen years, but I think Ratan Tata
and B Muthuraman have done a first-class job in terms of performance of a
steel company.” But how does he feel when he sees the baby he nourished
for half-a-century coming of age? “I find it extremely exhilarating”, says
Russi. “In its 100th year, Tata Steel has taken the step that would make it an
international company.” This is how life comes full circle. The present
Manging Director B Muthuraman was also spotted by Russi and he worked
under Aditya Kashyap.
A pertinent episode calls for a mention here. When the Chairman of
British Steel Corporation (BSC), Sir Ian Kinloch MacGregor, visited
Jamshedpur in the early ’80s at the invitation of JRD to mark the occasion
of Tata Steel’s foray into oxygen steel-making, British Steel was producing
some 16 million tonne of metal per annum (as against 1 million tonne at
Tisco). However, BSC was hardly in pink of health and Prime Minister
Margaret Thatcher refused to offer a crutch to the UK’s largest steelmaker
to stand on. Her message to the Company was: “Don’t expect government
subsidy. Be efficient or disappear.” As a result, BSC was shutting down
uneconomic mills and foundries. At a public reception at the Jamshedpur
plant, Russi said, “Ian, I can assure you that you’ll have no place in hell.
Hell will not take a risk with someone good at shutting down furnaces.
Maybe, I will be more welcome there. But, I’m not unhappy about it, as I’ll
keep on building new blast furnaces there too.” Was it just a joke, or banter?
Could Russi visualise that Tata Steel would one day come to the rescue of
British Steel and keep its blast furnaces burning? Russi’s successor Ratan
Tata made it happen when he went full steam to take over Corus in early
2007. BSC has long been part of Corus Steel.
Known to have the Midas touch when it came to man-management,
what would be his advice to the thousands at Tata Steel, at this moment,
when the Company is poised for a long-haul international flight? Answers
Russi, “It would be the same advice I give to people in whatever job they
do. Be honest and sincere in your dealings with the people. In a growing
country like India, steel is after all a major factor in growth. Indian steel has
always had a great future. It is more so now. A home-grown Company has
now become the fifth largest in the world. It is a huge leap forward.”
For that matter, Russi even backed the Tatas on the ULFA (United
Liberation Front of Assam) issue in 1997, when they were grappling with
the controversy of giving protection money to this insurgent group for its
tea estates. Though unexpected, the grand old man of Indian industry lent
moral support, and stated in his vintage style: “I see no difference between a
Company paying in cash or kind for protecting its personnel and a
Company protecting its economic interests by donating money to politicians
and officials. It has been said that paying money to the ULFA is unpatriotic.
I don’t see any patriotic merit in filling the pockets of those in power and
authority.”
As recent as August 2007, Russi and Ratan Tata seem to have finally
made peace, as the latter hosted him at his business suite in Taj Bengal,
Calcutta. The thirty-minute meeting between the two followed the annual
general meeting of Tata Tea. This was their first meeting in public gaze,
although they are reportedly known to have met privately twice earlier.
After you call a truce, one cogitates, rewinding those rueful times. Does
Russi think he’s inclined to be impetuous, as many of his friends concede
that he took decisions too quickly? His take on this human failing is: “I
believe that in my kind of job, you are bound to take one wrong decision in
ten, so I say, get over it quickly. I can cope with the mistakes because I am
never afraid to change once I realise my mistake. I have always tried
throughout my life, irrespective of the positions that I have occupied, to be
true to myself particularly important.”
 
 
SOME MORE GRILLING! CERTAIN QUARTERS felt that Russi perhaps
“reacted more with rhetoric than reason”, and that he sought to fight his
battle through the media. Russi had stated without any rancour: “I have said
it all along, I am not the one who went to the press. Immediately after the
board meeting, I went to England for a full month. During that month, all
kinds of scurrilous stories were leaked and planted about me. Not one single
article came from me. When I came back, I was asked to respond to these
smears. I got hold of Subhash Chakravarti of The Times of India in Delhi
and that was the first time I reacted. All I’ve ever done in the press is to
defend, to defend, to defend. The pattern is always the same. Unnamed
sources leaked venomous stories about me, and since it was not my style to
hide, when I responded to defend myself, I did it openly.” And when one
wicked scribe deliberately poked him about the latest book he was reading
those days, he should have expected this answer, “The title is, How to
Interpret the Press!”
As for some of the erroneous or mischievous reports in the media? “All
this was too complicated, so I just let them be”, says a sagacious Russi. A
darling of the media, over these decades, he says, he must have granted
almost half-a-million interviews. “We made Tata Steel a Company that took
interest in the world around it, not just steel. We created an atmosphere of
fearlessness and outspokenness. At these dialogues, people could say
anything they wanted. And if they held back at all, it was because they were
scared of their immediate superiors, not because they thought I would mind.
All this added up to make Tisco the number one Company.”
How does he now look back at that sour phase with Tatas that he once
described “as more of a soap opera”? Bygones are bygones, but what Russi
really feels sore about is that “nobody asked me why I should have behaved
in a manner unbecoming of a corporate head? Had I lost my senses or gone
bonkers? Tisco’s board was not only entirely within its rights, but correct in
taking the action that it did, except that it should have been done with more
nobility. There are people in this Company, who earnestly believed that I
was fired. How can you fire a person after fifty-three years of service,
whatever his fault maybe, and he happened to be the only chairman-
managing director? There were differences of opinion on various matters.
And when I ultimately left, it was all over. That’s the way I look at it, I
don’t know of any other way.”
He can’t possibly deny that he was grievously hurt. “I was hurt a little
bit here and there, but then I said things that hurt them too, so it was fair.
You hurt me, I hurt you”, and that’s fair play in Russi’s code of conduct. “I
was told that Sabavala, my friend of seventy-two years, had remarked to a
journalist in 1993, ‘In a month’s time, Russi will be a forgotten factor. He
does not matter’. Well, in the following years, I proved him wrong.” The
worst cut was when they inaugurated the Russi Mody Centre for Excellence
in Jamshedpur and didn’t even invite him. When he goes to Jamshedpur, he
cannot stay at the Director’s Bungalow, where all former directors are
entitled to stay.
 But Russi owns up to the fact that, “It could have been handled more
gracefully on both the sides. There was a time when I did and said things
that had hurt Ratan Tata, and Ratan had said and done things which hurt me.
However, after many years of chilly relationship, I have become friends
with Ratan again. And right through my life, I have believed that when one
takes a step in one direction, it is no use crying over spilt milk. So,
therefore, as far as I’m concerned, Ratan is friendly with me now as he was
earlier. This again means that I’ve completely forgotten the past.”
And his absolute regard for JRD remains unabated: “I worshipped the
ground he walked on. He was basically a good human being. He had his
likes and dislikes, I had my likes and dislikes, but that happens between any
two human beings. He and I didn’t always see eye to eye, and there were
many periods in which we didn’t see eye to eye at all. But above all, there
was bondage. I think he respected me as an individual and I too respected
him as an individual. That was the bond.” And when Kashyap broke the
news to him in London on November 29 of 1993 that JRD had passed away
in Geneva, Russi had confessed that he broke down. “I was still coming to
terms with it when I decided that I would not attend the funeral in Paris. I’m
not much for public displays. So, I told Aditya, we’ll leave for Geneva
instead, and see him at the hospital. And there were Darbari Seth, Ratan
Tata, and a whole load of others. I could not possibly turn my face away
because of the way they made me leave, but I tell you, it was difficult
remaining civil.”
Since he accepts “the good and the bad with equanimity”, Russi
ascertains that there is no bitterness of any kind now in his heart. “I was not
overly put out. I love Jamshedpur, I love the people there, I want to go and
stay there. A person should be strong enough, so that bitterness doesn’t seep
in, and one moves on in life. If you have to move on, life must move on.
God has given this gift to mankind that is ‘life’. You are a servant of God.
You carry on. If you put everything down to God, then all those fights and
appreciation also happen with His consent, and your role in it is purely
incidental.”
Lived life king-size: the palatial Tisco mansion at Jamshedpur

 
 On the Founder’s Day in Jamshedpur,with a young Ratan Tata in the
early 1960s: “I was a mere mortal under training at that time while Russi
was up near the gods.”

With his colleague at Tisco,Dr Jamshed J Irani

With WR Timken Jr,at the launch of Tata Timken
With his adopted son,Aditya Kashyap. All dressed up to join the Duke of
Edinburgh in the Royal Box,at Ascot.
 
  

IV
NEVER-SAY-DIE
 
Where was the question of Russi riding off into the sunset? “One thing that
Bombay House failed to do was to put me out to pasture since I am now
busier than I ever was”, declared the never-say-die Russi, as he launched an
international trading company, MOBAR, named after three partners –Mody,
the leading city industrialists, BP Bajoria and his son KK Bajoria, and the
German associate, Rohstofftechnologie Overseas Engineering GmbH
(ROE). Globalisation had wide opened the doors to world market, with
foreign trading becoming a fairly lucrative business proposition. And these
canny entrepreneurs wouldn’t have let this opportune phase fritter away.
In a press meet at Calcutta’s Oberoi Grand, on August 17 of 1993, Russi
formally announced his new venture, and allayed all conjectures over what
the former controversial Tisco chief would have up his sleeve: “I am self-
resilient enough to start anew without moping about the past. After all, for a
larger part of my life, I was Jamshedpur and Jamshedpur was me. God has
again been good to me and given me many more important challenges.”
You’ve to grant it to this feisty man. Investing all his retirement benefits, he
set up his new office, with quite a few followers who left Tisco. “Twenty
out of my thirty people at Mobar are from Tata Steel. And over a hundred
more want to join, but at the moment we are not big enough to
accommodate them all”, stated an upbeat Russi. “Those who came out with
me and were my friends during that period remain my friends. The others
are no longer my friends.” Shooting straight from the hip was well in
keeping with his demeanour: “If JRD had left Tisco, I would have left with
him, and followed him wherever he went. But if any of the present Tisco
team left, and I had been working with them, I would have distributed
ladoos when they did so.”
 Judith Teresa D’Souza, who earlier served with the Tatas, joined Russi
at Mobar India Ltd. as his personal assistant. After her eight-year
association, she beams when asked to speak about him: “During the period I
closely worked with Mr Mody, all along I saw how he would lead us by
giving opportunities to bring out our own hidden abilities. He’s so
disciplined, so positive, and so magnanimous at every level that his attitude
rubs off on you. And his incredible level of energy to meet so many people
and yet no signs of fatigue made me reel.”
The year was 1994, and Russi was dictating a letter for Duke of
Edinburgh (Russi is a Fellow of Duke of Edinburgh Award scheme), and
D’Souza wanted to crosscheck with him as to how Prince Philip should be
addressed. He told her, “Am I the secretary or you’re the secretary? I’m not
bothered, that’s your job. You’ve four days to figure that out.” And she
went to the British Council and checked the terminology. “The lesson I
learnt”, she says, “was that one should be prepared and not plead
ignorance.” Before her time was up, D’Souza told him, “I know sir, he has
to be addressed as ‘Your Royal Highness’.” With a playful smile on his
face, Russi asked her, “Are you feeling bad about it? Hope it’s okay with
you. If I had not given you that little jolt you wouldn’t have done what
you’ve done. You gave vent to your creativity and your ability that you
probably didn’t know you had. This is the only way.” Given his eminence
worldwide and respect for his age, says D’Souza, “He could get away with
anything though he called a spade a spade. He’s an adorable patriarch, for
he’ll never say ‘no’. And his reliability, the way he would treat everybody
at par, with this habit of sharing. He loves to share. Lunch for a staff of
thirty people would come prepared from his residence, and we all would be
at the same table. The one who reported late was fined Rs 100 and that
collected amount was spent on partying and having puchkas.”
But as a boss he wouldn’t take anybody for granted. “He made his own
calls and contacted people directly”, denotes D’Souza. “In the office at
sharp 9 am, his punctuality was so exemplary. He always told me, ‘Never
keep others waiting if you don’t want to be kept waiting by others.’ Those
days there were no mobile phones, and then he would make me call a
person if he was running late by even five-ten minutes. What I’ve really
learnt from him is how you should respect and regard other people’s time
and individuality. Once I wanted one more afternoon off for some urgent
work, and he said, ‘You know your responsibilities and I know mine’.” As
his secretary, she further honed the skills of framing formal letters: “His
letters are so precise and he follows the three Cs: content, clarity and
concision. He would say, ‘A long letter doesn’t hold the attention’. No
matter what, he never shot an impolite, angry, rude or offensive note. Even
if he reprimanded you, he would be normal the very next minute and break
the ice by sharing a joke. It is his spontaneity that speaks for his tremendous
interpersonal skills.”
 
 
RUSSI’S PROTÉGÉ ADITYA KASHYAP lent all his trading expertise.
Highly optimistic about Mobar emerging as the largest national trading
company, Russi also roped in AIOC (American Iron Ore Company), an ace
trading house based in the US that exerted control over the Chinese and
Brazilian market. And Mobar could avail of ready business opportunities in
those parts as well. His business acumen and foresight also led him to
negotiate with Meese Pierson, one of Europe’s largest commercial banks
based in Amsterdam to open a trading bank in India, which would lend
financial support to export-import trade of the country. It was mutually
decided that Russi would head both the firms, headquartered at Düsseldorf
and Calcutta, Bajoria (Sr) would be the second-in-command as the Vice
Chairman of the enterprise, Kashyap as the Group Managing Director, and
Bajoria (Jr) given the charge as Financial Controller.
While initially only Mobar Engineering GmbH and Mobar India came
into being, subsequently Mobar Shipping was formed to lend logistic
support. Till recently, international trading activity was not accepted as a
major business line in India, for majority of the trading was being carried
out by state-owned units, like State Trade Corporation (STC) and Minerals
and Metals Trading Corporation (MMTC), until the decontrol came. While
Mo-bar began by trading in metals, it also moved to non-traditional areas,
like the Confederation of Independent States (CIS) being the biggest haven
of opportunity for Indian companies. Kashyap spent a lot of time
developing that market, and also took the Company into relatively
unfamiliar field of ship-breaking, with a belief that India could easily catch
up, for it was a labour-intensive area. The CIS states offered the perfect
opening because most of them had battleships that they were committed to
scrapping under arms limitation agreements. Mobar signed a protocol with
the Russian defence ministry giving it a special status. Kashyap made it his
sole preoccupation to work out how to move a fleet of about-to-be-scrapped
submarines to India. And Mobar’s turnover for its first year of business was
over Rs 100 crore.
But Russi didn’t view the end of the Cold War and the developments in
the USSR and Eastern Europe, as the triumph of capitalism over
communism: “No, I think it is the triumph of realism and the human spirit. I
never even dreamed – and if anybody says he did, he is a bloody liar – of
the kind of changes that have taken place in Eastern Europe. What
happened? Basically, people there realised that they cannot live by bread
alone. All of us, including myself, have had Leftist views at some time or
the other – especially after our college years. But one must not be a slave to
any sort of thinking, including one’s own. For forty years, we shouted from
our rooftops that we are building socialism. The communists said their
system is the best. But have we, or they, been able to achieve anything what
countries with different economic systems have achieved? Today’s
capitalist societies are more inclined to the Left than any Communist
country ever was. They are not based on exploitation of one by the other.
Rather, they have enabled market forces and the entrepreneurial spirit to
hold sway over any regimentation. The pity is that it is considered a sin to
point this out, because in our country, the atmosphere of sycophancy, the ji
huzoor habit pervades everywhere. Even senior managers are often afraid to
speak out, lest they displease their boss and lose their jobs. I want people to
speak their minds. After all, what is democracy without dissent?”
Russi was as voluble in the ’90s about the inherent contradictions within
the business community: “At one hand people are talking of going global in
the new Gatt-regulated environment, and on the other, we have ‘Messers
Bombay Club and Company’ still seeking government protection. If even
now we are hooked on to the idea of benefiting all and sundry and dither
just because the opening up of the economy is not beneficial to somebody,
then it is better we stop talking and thinking of going global. There is
nothing that would benefit everybody. I feel what has to be done, should be
finished in the shortest possible time. There is no point asking for a ‘level
playing field’. Indians know how to stay abreast. See the success of
millions of Indians living in USA. They have replaced the earlier
predominant Jews in the US. Let the public understand that opening up of
the economy is not just a shadow exercise, but for the real benefits towards
the economy and the people. This was how privatisation of core sectors
took place in England so successfully.”
Admitting that there would be hazards opening up in some areas where
controls are necessary, he opined, “It is always better to have foreign
investments rather than foreign loans. But if foreign investments lead to the
control going out of Indian hands, then I would like to draw the line here.
Also, we should allow more than 50 per cent foreign equity only if it brings
substantial technical know-how with it.” And why did West Bengal fall
behind in the race for development in comparison to other states? He had a
ready answer: “Because of discrimination, largely because of the political
colour. Think of big companies, like Jessop, Braithwaite and IISCO.
Workers’ skill in the state is higher than anywhere else in the country, and
the blame should not always fall on the trade unions. The political
philosophy of the government in the state should change as the Centre has
moved from a system of license raj to a free market economy. Though the
leadership has changed a lot in the state, but the rank and file of the CPM
are still holding back. Occasions will arise when it would be a choice
between the interests of a section of the society, say the working class, and
the political philosophy of the government. At such junctures the former
option must prevail. We have the largest reservoir of skilled people in the
world. And yet, we continue to have the kind of poverty we have around us
here. Why? Because, the bureaucrats and the politicians won’t give us the
freedom to achieve the kind of result we are capable of achieving.”
And how would he compare the two former Chief Ministers of West
Bengal, BC Roy and Jyoti Basu? “Oh, BC was a bigger man, not only
physically, but mentally as well. A man of great stature! And Jyoti Basu, I
know him quite well. We always got along, I like him. But there was a
problem. I never saw him smiling, he always looked glum. I wish he could
smile a little.” Truth and nothing but the truth!
 
 
IT IS SAID THAT OLD TIES that endure and stand the test of time don’t
wither away. Nor can you always wish them away as a matter of
convenience. And a man of the masses, Russi released his message of
greeting with his photograph on the Founder’s Day, on March 3 of 1994, in
five local dailies of Jamshedpur. It was addressed to all members of the Tata
Family: “After an association of fifty-three years, it is not possible for me to
forget Jamshedpur or its people. This is the first time in all these years that I
shall not be with you for Founder’s Day. I shall very much miss the
Founder’s Day and the opportunity to greet you all. This message is to wish
you and your families, health and prosperity in the years to come.”
March 3 happens to be a holiday in Jamshedpur. But the next day, an
advertisement, ‘A rejoinder to Mr Russi Mody from employees of Tata
Steel’, conveyed the displeasure of Tisco employees in two local Hindi
dailies, Uditvani and Aaj. The strongly worded rejoinder criticised Russi:
“You have tried to project yourself to all of us, but your past credentials and
machinations are still fresh in our memory. Your true colour came to light
when you instigated the office bearers of the recognised union of Tisco to
agitate and paralyse all industries in Jamshedpur trying to grab Tisco.
However, you failed in your machinations because the employees of Tata
Steel resented (it) and raised (their) voice against your evil design. Your
love and respect for the Tata Steel family was exposed when you dragged
our beloved JRD Tata into a court of law. There are numerous such
examples reported in the press from time to time which speak volumes
about your character and misdeeds…Whom do you want to fool, yourself
or Tata Steel employees?”
And this unpleasant episode took a curious turn, as the editors of both
the dailies pleaded ignorance about who actually paid for the rejoinder
published in the name of Tata employees. Both Tisco management and
labour unions denied any such involvement, and Dr Irani, MD of Tisco,
when questioned on the issue, said, “Mr Mody’s advertisement should not
have raised the hackles of anyone... As for the rejoinder, I am trying to find
out who issued it. We do not know as yet as the newspaper is not giving us
the names of the persons. However, if we find them we will let them know
that this is not the done thing. It was not in the Tata language. I do not
expect Tata workers or executives to use such language. Although the
feelings are quite strong, I don’t think this is the way to express them. I
don’t think this should have been issued at all.”
Though much water had flowed down the Subarnarekha Bridge ever
since he bid adieu to Tisco, it seemed that controversies trailed Russi
irrespective of where he was and what he did. It was later in May of the
same year that he was being alleged of making frequent trips to Jamshedpur
“purely to stir up trouble with the unions”. Russi’s allies refuted the charge
as ‘nonsense’ and that anybody with any remote connection with the former
chairman was being hounded out of Tata Steel. A Tisco executive who had
now joined Russi said, “It is a reign of terror. When Mr Mody goes to
Jamshedpur, Tisco deputes three vigilance officers to follow him around
and to keep a watch on who he is meeting. It has become such a joke that
Mr Mody now offers tea to the security men who are supposed to be
keeping a watch on him.” The Tata Steel version was that the vigilance was
justified; and Russi just could not let go and that he was determined to harm
the Company whose fortunes he presided over for so many years. Some
kind of paranoia seemed to have gripped both the quarters.
There never was a dull moment. And any lull in Russi’s life was a
prologue to the proverbial storm. As for him, “Wherever I’m, I see roses
and roses...,” he stated, for he was running Mobar and simultaneously found
himself on the board of over thirty-five companies, organisations, and
clubs. ‘More the merrier’, was the principle Russi seemed to follow when it
came to shoulder responsibility. The grand corporate czar didn’t have to
manage his retirement; he was flunking it all along.
 
 
IT WAS SATURDAY AFTERNOON, October 29 of 1994, when Russi was
exchanging views with the members of the governing body of the Indian
Institute of Technology, Kharagpur. The phone in the boardroom rang and
diverted his attention. It was an SOS call for him from the South Block. The
person at the other end was Amarnath Verma, Principal Secretary to Prime
Minister PV Narasimha Rao. Russi took the call. Verma apprised him of the
urgent meeting with the PM. It was in the recent past that Russi had
declined an offer for a diplomatic assignment as Ambassador to Germany
with a posting at Bonn, in 1992. He had to turn down the offer, as in his
words, “Both Ratan and JRD Tata said that under no circumstances was I to
accept it.” He was not to regret, as he felt there was nothing much to Bonn,
anyway, and “Berlin may have been interesting”. But some experts in the
diplomatic circuit held the view that Russi could well have played a
meaningful role in acting as a catalyst to increase India’s exports than a
career diplomat: “With a unified Europe not far behind, India’s trade with
that continent in future could well be in peril. This was a perception
reinforced by Rao’s stopover in Paris at that point, where he met with all the
country’s ambassadors to Europe as well as his visit to Germany the
previous year. And since German Chancellor Helmut Kohl was the driving
force behind the unification of Europe, Bonn, rather than Brussels, was a
logical spot to base Russi.”
Another opinion was that since he was in the thick of a power struggle
in the Bombay House, a diplomatic assignment at this juncture would have
been a master-stroke for several reasons as he was out in the next four
months. However, Russi was believed to have expressed his preference for
a posting in London, where he is not unknown even at Buckingham Palace
(the Duke of Edinburgh is a personal friend). Moreover, Britain, where
Russi spent a great deal of his time every year, it was his first choice as a
foreign retreat. “There was a time when I was looking forward to going to
the UK as India’s High Commissioner. I think I would have loved that. And
I had a country house in England and a flat in Eton Square in London. Not
any more.”
Though another call from the PM’s office came as a surprise to Russi, it
was a harbinger of exciting news. The PM wanted him to head both the
national and international carriers: Indian Airlines (IA) and Air India (AI).
However, Russi told Verma that he would meet the PM during his visit to
New Delhi very shortly. But Verma insisted that he met the PM the
following day itself. And they met at 7, Race Course Road, Rao’s official
residence. Russi added one more feather to his CV that the steel man had
not yet rusted away at seventy-six. For quite some time, a plan to merge the
two carriers into a new identity was toying in the mind of the PM, and this
made Russi’s appointment even more poignant, given his flair for industrial
management. He was hopeful that Russi would be the right choice to restore
these two ailing bodies back to health.
 But what prompted the PM to zero in on Russi to chair the boards of IA
& AI, particularly, when the names of S Kanoongo, the former Secretary of
Civil Aviation, and former Air Chief Marshal Denis La Fontaine were
reportedly floating in the corridors of the ministry of civil aviation, with
Ghulam Nabi Azad holding the portfolio. Despite these two strong
contenders, the PM knew that Russi had an edge over them given his record
as a superb man-manager, and his matchless credentials would have
silenced even his harshest critic. Although a certain section in the media
described this move to bring Russi to such an apex position as a tribute to
flamboyance, the PM was confident of the soundness of his decision. He
knew that if there was one man who could help these two national carriers
to emerge from the rut and fly high, it was Russi Mody.
It was November 7 of 1994, and Russi took over the command of these
sick carriers. Although he had already been on the board of directors of
Indian Airlines between 1986-88, it was perhaps by a quirk of fate that the
same person, who had been forced to leave a Tata outfit, now occupied the
highest office of an organisation that was pioneered, almost sixty-two years
earlier, by none other than his mentor JRD with whom he had fallen out.
JRD founded Tata Airlines in 1932, which in order to cater to the needs of
regular commercial service became a public limited company in July of
1946, as Air India.
Soon after assuming the charge of both the airlines, Russi was known to
have spent no less than four hours with the managing directors of IA and AI
to take stock of the situation and review their operations. He held meetings
not only with the officials, but also with the representatives of the workers
of both the airlines. Making it loud and clear that non-performers would
have to step down, if they did not reform, stated Russi: “I would put a thrust
on areas, like discipline, punctuality, and sense of courtesy among the staff
of Indian Airlines and Air India,” revealing his course of action to the
media. “The priority of the new management would be to gather views from
everyone working here and seek their help to improve operations of both
the airlines…No book could teach you the art of industrial relations… An
organisation that has had a phenomenal growth indicates that its
relationship with its staff is healthy.”
Russi believed its only sound teamwork that promotes inter-personal
relations, which in turn, yields better results. And he issued a gentle
warning, “Although I am a labour man and my basic intention is to stand by
my workforce, I do not hesitate to take the strictest action against any one
who doesn’t perform.” That customer care should be ‘the’ priority was
reminded by the new chairman at the very onset of his discussion with the
staff of both the carriers. He further added that the staffs were answerable to
every passenger for any delay in the flight schedule, no matter how
unavoidable the circumstances were. And that the flaws within the system
could only be detected by having thorough discussions with both the
parties. Within a few days it became clear that his mission was to harness a
team of strong and dedicated executives, capitalising on their strengths and
downplaying their differences.
Emphatic about handling these two carriers independently, he impressed
upon the government that bureaucracy would have to stop interfering in
day-to-day functions of both the airlines. “The business of the government
is to govern. Beyond that they should do nothing”, he said without mincing
words, so typical of Russi. He made it as clear that the management of the
two airlines would not tolerate any external interference. “If professionally
managed, even a public undertaking can produce results that would match
the performance of any private corporation,” he affirmed, expressing his
resolve to make India’s airlines rate among the best in the world within five
years. “It is not a tall order if we can achieve the requisite privatisation in
the management of our domestic and international carriers”, he pointed out.
Russi, however, was discreet enough to state that he wasn’t holding any
brief against the public sector, but its ‘hackney-carriage pace’ of
performance: “The government evidently has a purpose in selecting a fossil
like me to head the two corporations, because if it desired running the
organisation in the existing way, it would have picked a bureaucrat.” He
wanted everyone belonging to the two corporations realise that he was here
to initiate a course to recover their lost sheen: “Real professionalism,
motivation of the existing staff and, above all, privatisation of the
management must be built on the inherent strengths of the two airlines and
ultimately refashion them into world-class entities.” Though dilution of
equity was perpetually on his mind, he planned to take up this thorny issue
only after restoring the lost shape and vigour of the airlines. He thought it
was more advisable “to administer an elixir for growth than search for a
life-saving drug”.
 There had been a standing proposal to merge the two airlines, as the
status of Air India was declining by the day in the international aviation
sector with a fleet of mere 20 aircraft. Also the restiveness among the staff
over the wage difference between the two airlines, which had been brewing
for quite some time, could be settled if these were to merge into a single
entity. Decreed Russi: “I am trying to bring about parity of emoluments
between the two airlines. It cannot be exactly similar, because they operate
in different circumstances, different ways. But some equality has to be
there. For instance, a loader in Indian Airlines should not feel inferior to a
loader in Air India, or a booking clerk, or people in HRD, engineering, so
on and so forth. My great difficulty is the lack of finance in Indian Airlines
due to several factors. Being a national carrier, it has to operate to places
which are not commercially viable; then we are paying the government two
and a half times more for fuel than foreign airlines; we are being charged
1.2 per cent as guarantee money by the government for loans we have taken
from sources like the World Bank.”
And now that major international aviation players were setting their
sights on the Indian market with virtually no competition from Air India, it
was necessary to bring these two sick national carriers together to resist the
onslaught of private airways. Russi also highlighted that air taxi operators
had weaned away pilots and staff of both the airlines on better terms. But
now he intended to make conditions attractive enough for them not to
embark on such ventures as he stated confidently, “Air taxi operators, being
smaller airlines, would soon reach a saturation point and the exodus from
both Indian Airlines and Air India would reduce”.
The two carriers had been facing one of the worst labour-crisis for quite
long, with the management being able to do very little. While Russi
criticised most of the management’s actions taken prior to his induction, he
was fairly firm that he would not give in to any pressure from ICPA (Indian
Commercial Pilots Association). Though ICPA welcomed his appointment,
he never offered any special sops to pilots, saying, “The pilots must
withdraw their threat of action, because I would not talk with any sort of
threat held over my head.” He wouldn’t allow any dialogue to continue if it
smac-ked of arrogance. Russi asked the pilots to withdraw their demands,
which he termed as ‘ridiculous’. He, however, was ready for a negotiation
with the president and the secretary of ICPA on the issues of wage
settlement, training of pilots and betterment of service conditions, provided
circumstances were conducive to a discussion.
It didn’t take him much time to read the symptoms and diagnose the
malady. It was lack of motivation, low morale, and an indifferent attitude
that had led to labour disputes and financial losses. Russi knew that right
impetus was the only remedy for a healthy revival. He might have left
Tisco, but at the core of his heart JRD was still the man whom Russi would
look up to. Thus after joining the board of Indian Airlines and Air India,
Russi’s sole objective was to resurrect the glorious past of Air India, with
an inherent belief that only privatisation could lead professionals to work
unfettered. “I have always believed that who holds equipment is not really
important. What is more important is who manages and the management
must be professional,” he professed. Lest his intention was misconstrued, he
clarified that he meant no disrespect to the government or the ministry, but
“if they make the appointment of a person of my seniority and experience,
they must have confidence in me and my way of running a corporation, not
as a dictator but as a leader”.
Russi didn’t seem to agree with the prevailing perception that the
growth of the airlines had been stunted because they were controlled by the
government. It had been underdeveloped because of the pace at which it
had worked. “My first impressions are that with regard to men, materials
and management, both Indian Airlines and Air India are not lacking in any
way. But I can’t say that I have been terribly enthusiastic about the manner
in which these three resources have been utilised over the years… Any
organisation that achieves growth, it’s because professionals work without
interference. Management of the airlines should strictly be within the
management of the airline first”, he stressed. “Let’s introduce that as a
major step. It will be for the board to take decisions that were taken earlier
at various levels”.
But Russi couldn’t resist asking the media with his patent riposte,
“Haven’t you all overplayed this appointment?” He felt the press was going
gaga, probably because the PM had selected some one to run the airlines,
who had been rested considering his age. “You should headline your copy
‘resurrection of a corpse’ – I have been retired, kicked out, whatever you
would like to call it”, he said unabashedly. “My appointment had
occasioned inordinate publicity because I am seventy-six, and people feel I
should be on the shelf, and I am not.” Russi’s appointment was indicative of
the govern-ment’s keenness to revamp the troubled airlines under the
guidance of a stalwart, who had earned quite a reputation for managing the
labour force.
Management in both these airlines had traditionally suffered from
extraneous meddling in everything, from purchasing of aircraft to day-to-
day operations. Even aircraft could not be allotted to passengers as these
were made available for government officials. Russi was never in favour of
allocating aircraft for the use of government officials; rather, he gave a
proposal to buy a couple of planes exclusively for VIPs including the PM.
He under-lined in this proposal that the earlier practice would deprive
regular passengers of the benefit they pay for. So the appointment of
someone, like Russi, was expected to be a step in the right direction, though
he had to cross countless hurdles to ensure that operations of the airlines
were not dis-rupted due to frequent work stoppages and slowdowns. He
kept on harping that lack of professionalism could only prolong the
problems that the airlines had been facing.
The present seemed to be in sharp contrast to the airline’s glorious past.
There was a time when Air India was rated as one of the top players in
international aviation. With JRD holding fort, no one in the government
would dare interfere with his working. This certainly provided the
smoothest runway for JRD’s airline to take off. Russi, however, was denied
this breathing space. Political interference not only undermined his
capability, but also turned him into a puppet on a string, held by the civil
aviation committee.
Expressing his views in an online chat with netizens, the new chairman
said that the previous agreements between the management and the union
were not conducive to efficiency. He felt that sheer absence of motivation in
the labour force was a crucial failure on the part of the mana-gement. “Lack
of managerial skill amongst those at the helm of affairs is one of the
greatest drawbacks in the airlines. Bureaucracy and outmoded rules and
regulations still prevail and as a result there is no accountability, there is no
punishment, there is no reward, there is no participation, and the horses and
the donkeys are treated alike. In these circumstances, I think it is a miracle
that the airline is functioning at all.”
 From whatever Russi could gather about the employees, it was evident
that a particular group had been instigating the labour force, eventually
leading them to hold a strike. “Management must identify them and take
necessary action to remove them immediately. Such things can’t go on”, he
warned, adding, “The two airlines had suffered most from the fact that they
did not have privatised management, rather than because they were public
sector enterprises. I have always believed who holds the equity is not
important, as long as they leave the management alone to run the
Company.” He was anxious to prove that “We can make the airlines work
simply by privatising management before we get into privatising equity. But
if I find it is impossible to privatise management when government holds
the equity, then of course, I may come down on the other side. If I could
reduce the government equity to 49 per cent and bring Singapore Airlines
or some other airline to hold 51 per cent, then the question of political
interference automatically ceases and India would still retain management
control. And another way of looking at it would be to divide Air India
shareholding among the financial institutions and nationalised banks, then
that also would remove Air India from being answerable to a single entity.”
 The young flier posing with Air India’s Maharaja

An oil painting by an Air India official when Russi was the Chairman
  
Russi had stopped flying Air India since flights got cancelled and the
food was awful: “There was a time I used to change my schedules and
meetings so as to be able to travel by Air India. I was so fond of it.
Excellent food, excellent service on board, courteous and polite treatment
of passengers, it was a first-class airline, one of the best three airlines in the
world. The same way people today talk about Singapore Airlines or
Swissair, we used to talk about Air India. Today we are the bottom three, if
not the bottom with computers not working for three days at a time.
Loaders would throw your luggage around. Flights would be delayed or
cancelled.” Once he was asked by a manager in Calcutta, who was also a
friend of his, “Look Russi, it is very embarrassing that you never fly Air
India. Can you please take our flight to London the next time you travel?”
And he agreed as a personal favour to him. The manager made all kinds of
arrangements to ensure that he received the best of hospitality.
When Russi got into the plane, the first announcement was that the
flying time to Frankfurt would be so many hours. He called the air hostess
and said, “What are you talking about? This is supposed to be a non-stop
flight to London.” She said, “You know some passengers were offloaded
from another flight, so we’ll have to stop at Frankfurt.” He asked, “What
about the other passengers? We may have meetings in London. What about
the fact that we are going to be late? What about the fact that I don’t want to
spend two hours at Frankfurt airport?” Russi was seething when the steward
came. He asked him, “Which wine will you have with dinner? Tell me in
advance, so that I can open the right bottle.” Russi said, “It depends on what
main course I’m having. Could I see the menu please?” And he felt it was
bad enough that they were trying to save on the bottles by only opening the
wines after the order was placed, but what followed was worse. The
steward said, “Terribly sorry, sir. We don’t have any menus.” Russi was
livid, “No menu cards in First Class?” After he came back, he told his
manager-friend, “I’ve done you a personal favour by sitting for two hours at
Frankfurt airport. Please don’t ask me ever to fly Air India again.”
No wonder, the carriers had been facing a steep fall in their financial
performance for a period of over three years. While they enjoyed almost a
monopoly in the passenger market till 1992, their hold on the market had
come down to 72 per cent by the time Russi joined. And it didn’t take him
long to assess the crisis. “Well I always welcome healthy competition”, he
said, referring to an Irish proverb, “May you live to be a hundred-years-old,
and, may I live to bury you… I will show the people of India that a public
enterprise can produce results just as good as the private sector. I am sure
we will set a pattern as far as other public sector enterprises go… I would
like to see them make money.”
Russi questioned the rationale behind continuing with the extremely
poor returns from the investment of public money on public sector units.
Air India’s profits had plunged sharply. In 1992-93, the international carrier
made a net profit of Rs 333 crore, which dropped to around Rs 210 crore in
the following year. During April-August in 1994, it nosedived to Rs 30
crore. “But for the present”, declared Russi, “I would concentrate on public
relations, customer satisfaction, efficiency, catering, personnel
management, running of employees’ canteens, industrial relations and
sports. Nothing is possible until the employees realise that in me they have
a friend to be able to meet their aspirations and to put the airlines in a
financially viable state. If I achieve all that I intend to, profits, I believe,
will automatically flow in. It all springs from the fact that we do not work
as a family. We work at cross purposes. One is to try and earn a profit and
the other is to try and earn a livelihood. But it has never been recognised
that both can go hand in hand.”
Russi further stated that the only way out to compensate for the huge
loss and cash deficit was through optimum utilisation of the existing fleet.
He suggested that some revenue could be generated by selling old Boeing
aircraft. Besides, importing fuel from outside could also bring down the
cost of running the airlines by about a billion bucks. The IA board, which
had its first meeting under the chairmanship of Russi on November 23 of
1994, discussed the possibilities of buying some small and medium-sized
aircraft and the organisation’s imminent merger with Vayudoot, which was
to take shape by the end of the year. The board decided it would be prudent
to have a close look at the recommendations made by the committees. To
ensure the smooth running of the carriers, despite the acute financial crunch
was a challenge that a self-assured Russi accepted with panache.
The corporate culture that he had been familiar with bore no
resemblance whatsoever to that of a public sector unit. While Tisco had a
distinct Tata culture, IA and AI had to be run as per political considerations.
It was Russi’s resilience that he could adapt himself to any situation. “Work
culture can be improved in any organisation by inspiring people you work
with. You have to remind them – from loader to manager – of their ability,
which might not have been properly utilised”, said Russi reposing his faith
in his work-force. He sounded certain that he would bring about a positive
change, “The prime objective is to boost their morale and they should be
told that the motto of our business is to serve our customer. When we are
working for a national carrier, any slip in the area of service will tarnish our
image in our own country and abroad.”
Well, Russi may have been gung-ho about infusing new life in these two
organisations, which seemed to have gone into deep slumber, but other
factions within were all set to sabotage his blueprint. Even the narrowest
hiatus between the ministry and the management was enough to demolish
any plan of revival. Their easy access to the boardroom and grimy political
nexus made them aware of their capacity to create mischief. These elements
gave their best shot to create gross misunderstanding between Russi and
Civil Aviation Minister Ghulam Nabi Azad, poisoning one’s mind against
the other. Azad must have been fuming since none of his proposed
nominees to head either of the carriers had been considered. He was
informed of Russi’s appointment, while at Osaka, on his official trip to
Japan. When he was later asked about it, he chose to reserve his opinion.
Azad’s silence was more than eloquent. No wonder, his first meeting with
Russi was frosty. He had made his displeasure quite obvious. The signal
was clear – they both would maintain diplomatic niceties, but pull in
different directions.
With multiple unions of varied political shades, the management had to
face a very tricky situation, which did not augur well for any improvement
in the work culture. When asked whether his experience in handling
industrial relations would be of any consequence in bringing about any
substantial change in the two airlines, Russi said that any difference of
opinion could be settled by talking across the table: “To solve any industrial
problem, it is better to discuss the subject and then reach a solution than
resorting to any controversial approach.” At a time when national carriers
were battling hard and vying for a pie in the market under the ‘Open Sky’
policy, Russi tried to make every one understand that IA and AI would have
to muster resources, so that they could rebuild their infrastructure before
entering the fray fully armed.
But Russi’s avant-garde views on privatisation of management had
touched a raw nerve in the ministry. Its anger over Russi’s attempt to loosen
the government’s hold came to public notice on December 2 of 1994, when
Azad failed to keep an appointment with Russi. While the minister’s office
tried to explain that he had gone to Goa to attend to an important
assignment, it was believed in some quarters that it was a deliberate attempt
by the union minister to snub the new chairman. And soon after, another
incident took place at Dum Dum airport, Calcutta. One of the ground-staff
supervisors, unaware of his chairman’s presence in the vicinity, sloppily
handled the ladder meant for passengers to board the plane. Russi happened
to notice it. Stern about not making any concessions for callousness, he
immediately gave marching order to the employee. This action frayed
tempers as the employees’ unions rose in protest, and the situation
worsened when some MPs went out of their way to stoke the fire. Ever
since his chairing the two airlines, Russi had become a soft target. His
critical statements against bureaucracy had also drawn flak from various
politicians.
The anger which had been building up was waiting to explode, and it
eventually did on December 28 of 1994. A group of Members of Parliament
walked out of the meeting of the Parliamentary Consultative Committee of
Civil Aviation as a mark of protest against Russi’s statements to media
about the government’s inefficiency in dealing with the public sector
airlines. They felt he had undermined their ability to question him. While
Russi’s remarks made some of the MPs demand his ouster, the chairman
remained unshaken. He retained his cool even when Mohammed Afzal and
Dinesh Trivedi along with eighteen other MPs moved a privilege motion
against him. They accused him of being indiscreet in his criticism of the
preceding manage-ment’s handling of the crisis in the airlines.
Russi’s take on the bureaucracy annoyed the politicians enough to
demand his resignation, if he was not ready to issue an apology through the
media. There was no breakthrough in the status quo and the next meeting
that took place after two months on February 11 of 1995, ended again on a
chaotic note, as Russi refused to buckle under any pressure. A similar
situation arose when the MPs took serious exception to what they said was
Russi’s misdemeanour. When Russi said, “650 odd MPs”, the politicians
construed it as being impolite. Although he was advised to seek legal help,
Russi insisted on facing the accusers himself. He went on to clarify that all
this word ‘odd’ implied was “an imprecise number” and meant no offence.
The present turmoil did achieve at least one thing – it brought all the MPs
together irrespective of their political affiliations. While they could never
unite in the interest of the country, they readily did so to oust a chairman
who intended to resurrect the two airlines. When later Russi told the
erstwhile Prime Minister, Atal Behari Vajpayee, that while the political
parties would never come to a consensus to serve the country, they might
unite to usher in the worst, he was speaking from his own experience, for
sure.
When the MPs questioned Azad on how a chairman under him was
appointed by the PMO, and was saying things like privatising management,
merging the two national carriers, and giving better salaries, the minister
promptly said he had only met him recently. And one of the MPs told the
entire top brass of the ministry, in the presence of the minister and the new
chairman that Russi was “a discard of the Tatas, who has been thrust upon
us”. When a nonplussed Russi, who first suffered in silence for about an
hour, asked those present whom he should apologise to, the MPs said he
should “go to the same press where he had dared to berate us in the first
place”. But the biggest setback for Russi was that the PMO had left him to
fend for himself. Not a word had come out on a supposedly ‘special
mandate’ or ‘an assurance briefing’ that had been given to him, first by the
Principal Secretary to Rao and then Rao himself.
And now differences of opinion, not only with the civil aviation
ministry, but also with the senior managers landed him in one soup after
another. For Russi, age was never a bar. He passed an order to extend the
retirement age of pilots from fifty-eight to sixty-two years. But the senior
managers said this step would mar the prospects of young pilots, and they
brought it to the notice of the ministry. Thus an attempt was made to
overrule Russi’s order. This was followed by his open tiff with the
management on the issue of pay parity between IA and AI. While the
chairman’s decision was backed by the pilots and the engineers working for
IA, the senior managers rejected it out-right. Contrary to the normal trend
that any organisation would follow while gasping for survival, Russi
proposed to raise the salary of the airlines’ employees. Such a decision
seemed to rattle the senior managers, but he said it was intended to enhance
the self-esteem of the workforce. His sincere effort was misinterpreted both
by the MPs and the senior managers, who thought it was a gimmick on the
chairman’s part to gain the popularity of the staff.
At a meeting of the Consultative Committee, chaired by Azad, the MPs
decided that Russi must quit. “If any member or chairman of a public sector
undertaking is trying to lower the image of the MPs, then he has no place”,
they protested in unison. While the MPs were itching to make the situation
increasingly complicated for Russi, they wouldn’t have known that here
was a man with consummate resolve. He would rather face the problem
head-on than seek an escape route. No matter, what the parliamentarians
were up to, Russi would continue with the airlines until the government
asked him to step down.
The raging battle between the man heading IA and AI and the civil
aviation ministry reached its climax when Russi denied confirmation of the
appointment of MS Sharma, a government nominee, as the Managing
Director of Hotel Corporation of India (HCI), an Air India subsidiary. He
made it clear that as HCI was a 100 per cent subsidiary of Air India, it
would be gross officiousness on the government’s part to recommend any
person for any particular post here. That the panel of names should rather
be proposed by the AI board, of which the MPs must choose one, awaiting
the final nod to be given by the board.
The ministry retaliated against Russi’s stance by bringing in Brijesh
Kumar as the Managing Director of Air India, replacing Capt DS Mathur.
Perhaps, it was a move to recapture the control of the said ministry over the
international carrier. While some read the situation as the government’s
gambit to bottleneck Russi, to others it appeared a pre-emptive measure on
the part of the ministry to prohibit him from appointing his own candidate
to the said post. It was perhaps the fear of losing power, which led the
ministry to take this step, as the chairman showed avid interest in the
privatisation in the boardroom. As the ministry was trying to prove that the
rapport between the chairman and the employees was a myth, the agitating
cabin crews, affiliated to Shiv Sena came back to peace, unexpectedly, as
the new MD walked in. Was it a sheer coincidence? The ministry’s effort to
belittle Russi’s image as a man-manager was proved wrong again, when
various trade unions made an appeal to the government to empower him for
the betterment of the airlines. They clarified that they would extend every
kind of cooperation to their chairman, for the carrier to be brought back to
sound health.
The most curious part was that a week after Russi had taken charge, he
was given a printed circular that “a part-time chairman cannot give
instructions to the MD”. But that is what happens and this is what
happened. Then how could he run the show? Later, however, Russi had
stated, “I got hundreds of letters full of complaints. I asked both the
managing directors (IA and AI) whether a single action had been taken in
the last five years and their answer was ‘no’.” And yet here he was still
trying to get a ‘hang’ of things, by visiting the hangars, canteens, and the
offices all over the country. Both New Delhi and Calcutta, his initial
stopover, turned out to be worthwhile. Having explained the priorities to the
employees in his customary fashion, he was, while shaking hands with each
and every one of them, pleasantly surprised to learn at the Calcutta airport
canteen that it was the first time they were meeting any chairman face to
face.
And in an undisclosed visit to the city office, where passengers waiting
in a long queue were the first to recognise him, Russi learnt that in two
hours the line for tokens to be transferred to tickets had barely moved. His
presence had, obviously, acted as some kind of a stimulus because in thirty
minutes, as many people could leave with tickets in their hands. But for
Russi, this had to work in great measure at all levels for the momentum to
pick up. At the board meetings, he left no one in any doubt that the final
decision and responsibility in all matters rested with him, and that he would
not take kindly to his subordinates voluntarily running to politicians
ostensibly to keep them appeased.
But in course of time, he realised that he was merely a titular boss; only
a figurehead to sign the papers, and all the power would vest with the
managing director. This was becoming increasingly clear to him, though he
had been kept ignorant of the fact that he would never be given absolute
freedom to run the airlines to execute his own master plan. Even his direct
interaction with employees had not gone well with the bureaucrats. On
being thwarted at every step, a frustrated Russi sought a meeting with the
PM to know what role he was expected to perform. The meeting held by the
cabinet secretary on February 23 of 1995, was attended by some senior
officials of the PMO, and it was consented that Russi would be granted
more executive power in administering the carriers. However, in realistic
terms, there were not even remote signs of any such implementation.
By now Russi had learnt the lesson of being cautious. “I don’t want to
make any statements. Every time I make one, I get into trouble”, he
quipped. But a man who had been spontaneous right through his life and
felt deeply for his employees’ welfare couldn’t be kept silent for long. At a
press meet in Chennai on March 9 of 1995, Russi remarked that the attitude
of the IA employees had changed for the better. He was hopeful that they
could soon make up for the losses incurred so far, if such proclivity
persisted. He discussed the sore problems that any management faces while
leading an organisation to its goal, like the ‘hire and fire’ technique that
might prove helpful in bringing up productivity, “but in the context of our
poor economy, it would mean making a family face dire straits.” And that
even a scheme, much in vogue, like the Voluntary Retirement Scheme, had
its pros and cons. “It has been seen in several cases that while many
efficient employees leave, the inefficient ones stay back despite the reverse
being intended”.
But one seeming controversy after another wouldn’t let Russi be, and
thus left him facing the music. Despite his having elucidated time and again
that he wasn’t “foolish enough not to realise that money had to be earned
before it was distributed”, his stand on wage parity between the two airlines
was being interpreted as a ‘reckless move’. While he thought of it as a
strategy to extract the best from the pilots, other members of the
management of Indian Airlines, including the Managing Director, Probir
Sen, opposed this idea, their argument being that its implementation would
mean an approximate of Rs 75 crore to be shelled out by the airlines; a
rather hefty amount for an organisation struggling hard to stand on its feet
minus the crutches. This issue too was taken up by the parliamentarians as
they considered it a thoughtless decision. They held the view that such a
privilege bestowed on the pilots would encourage other employees as well
to make baseless demands. This tussle took a new turn when the meeting to
review the progress of the national carriers was called off for the third time
in a row. And the parliamentarians, enraged at Russi’s comment that
Indians, despite their inherent efficiency do not fare well within the country,
as their prospect is blocked by political interference, did not give him
another chance to chew his words. They censured him saying, “You cannot
speak here as this building’s and the Consultative Committee’s work form
part of the parliamentary deliberations…” This time round they threatened
to bring a privilege motion against him.
Subtlety didn’t seem to be Russi’s plus point, as on many an occasion,
he would be point-blank and expose the naked truth. And many of his plain-
speak comments offended the ministry. Perhaps, his intention was to
pronounce the flaws in the system, so that they could be rectified. But that
was not to be, instead the man himself was being repeatedly jeopardised.
And this is where he stood out! No matter how grim the situation, it failed
to singe the fighter in Russi. This is what has always set him apart from the
herd. So when he said that he carried no grudge against Azad, it didn’t
come as a surprise. Russi told a correspondent of The Economic
Times,“Normally, I would have gathered my papers and left the room and
resigned immediately thereafter. But the fact remains that there are so many
in the public, and among the employees of the airlines, who had reposed
much faith in me. I felt that I should not let them down; therefore, I decided
to swallow the insult and carry on. Besides, the reprimand was administered
by a person young enough to be my son, and I put it down to a bit of
youthful exuberance and seeking popularity in an election year. I bear no
ill-will towards the minister. As a matter of fact, my only difference with
Ghulam Nabi Azad was that I wanted to be azad (independent) and he
wanted me to be a ghulam (slave).”
Bold and unflappable, Russi had made it amply clear he had no
intention to quit his job. Although his equation with a few self-interested
individuals was not even a faint possibility, his subordinates found in him a
man who would not mislead them. Even though he couldn’t have agreed to
their every proposal, yet they trusted him enormously. That Russi could still
tame the flame of furious employees under any circumstances became
obvious once more, when the agitating IA pilots wanted an audience with
him, and he readily agreed to meet them. He, however, pointed out that the
meeting would only be a forum to discuss issues, relevant to the
organisation’s well-being. It worked like a magical potent. The ICPA
wanted Russi to talk to them saying they had kept all their protests in
abeyance, having realised that the chairman would not cave in to any kind
of intimidation: “I am part of the management…The ICPA must realise that
the airline management will not let them get away with irresponsible
behaviour,” Russi stated firmly in New Delhi on July 4 of 1995. He also
warned that the management might go to the extent of taking a stringent
measure, like lockout, to stem the rot in the aviation industry.
He wanted the pilots to realise the tremendous loss the airline was
accumulating every day as he released the figures: “The Indian Airlines at
present has a fleet of 30 Airbus-320 aircraft. While on an average, 28 of
them should be flown daily, the airline could at best use only 22 aircraft.
Grounding an Airbus-320 caused a loss of Rs 15 lakh a day – an average
loss of Rs 90 lakh a day for the six aircraft not in use.” By making the pilots
much more conscious about how their agitation would take its toll on an
ailing airline already burdened with a loss of Rs 900 crore, he wanted to
check them from holding the airline to ransom at regular intervals.” At the
same time, he didn’t spare the IA management for the agreement they had
signed earlier. “In fact, it was an abortive agreement. I would like it to be
reviewed”, he reiterated. Well, the ministry had to willy-nilly acknowledge
Russi’s man-management skills, which no way had lost its sharpness.
Though late in the day, they realised it would be circumspect to give Russi
more power and give a shot in the arm to this part-time chairman, after he
deftly dealt with these agitating pilots. Such empowerment would not only
help him push through certain reforms, but also make him get involved in
all the bilateral discussions with the designated carriers of other countries.
So, the much desired and long-pending change to delegate more executive
power to Russi finally took place.
They say power corrupts a man, but Russi proved that extra power
could only add to his generosity. And that happened because he never
misused it by resorting to any ignoble strife. He was annoyed the way
Captain Mathur, the Managing Director of Air India, had been dismissed by
the ministry, but it didn’t make him a tyrant-boss to the newcomer, Brijesh
Kumar. Being vindictive was not part of his persona. Although a
misunderstanding cropped up between the two, courtesy some irresponsible
media coverage, Russi advised his new colleague to ignore insinuations of
the outsiders. And on November 18 of 1995, Russi expressed his full
confidence in Brijesh Kumar, thus crystallising his intent that he was here
not to undermine the prestige of the national carriers, but revive its pride. It
became all the more apparent by the end of this year, as the antagonistic set
of parliamentarians too appreciated Russi’s reasoning. Once his detractors,
now they were his allies.
‘MPs do a volte-face, decide to back Russi’, screamed the headlines of
national dailies on November 23 of 1995, as the preceding day the MPs on
the Consultative Committee of Civil Aviation finally lent support to Russi
in his unrelenting battle against a group of people, who were trying to
topple his plan to release the administration of IA and AI from the clutches
of lackadaisical bureaucracy. After almost a year, the parliamentarians too
concurred that these two airlines suffered from gross negligence of the
authorities, and that the various strikes, especially the recent agitation by
the IA engineers, were mishandled. They now also came round to the view
that the policy of wet leasing aircraft adopted by AI was not conducive to
revamping of the economy of the international carrier. They even went a
few steps ahead to call it a decision leading to disaster. The unflagging
Russi found collaborators in those who once wanted him sacked. It was
even more startling that MPs dashed off mails to the ministry endorsing
Russi’s stance that the two airlines were, indeed, run very unprofessionally.
And one thing seemed certain – media always had Russi on a sticky
wicket. Closely delving into reports related to this combat showed that
whenever he was in trouble, some mischievous reportage contributed to the
situation getting aggravated. A newspaper claimed sometime in November
of 1995 that Russi was about to relinquish his charge as the joint chairman
of IA and AI following a tiff with a deputy director, V Kashyap, in the last
board meeting held in Calcutta. The correspondent who filed the report
showed appalling ignorance that this Kashyap was not even a member of
the board, so the question of a tiff with him didn’t arise. Russi issued a
press statement on November 22 that the report was “totally false and
motivated”. However, there were enough indications that Russi wasn’t
privy to the autonomous run of his administration, with all the strings held
by the ministry. It was back to square one, as they merrily forgot that this
person had been put at the helm to set the house in order, and not carrying
out decisions belched out by some bureaucrats and politicians.
Whenever Russi worked out a solution to resolve any problem, they
would oppose it tooth and nail. For instance, when the All India Aircraft
Engineers’ Association met him in Calcutta on October 13 of 1995, he gave
his own proposal to settle the issue with the engineers for the increase in
their wage and allowances. But Probir Sen, the MD of Indian Airlines, and
a group of other officers rejected it outright. While Russi had suggested a
salary hike on ‘trust’, Sen and his officers proposed productivity-linked
wages. Although the Association was agreeable to Russi’s proposal and
called it reasonable, Sen’s group stalled it saying that the proposal should be
okayed by the MD. What must have been really vexing for Russi was the
fact that the managing director was subject to function as per instructions of
the board of directors, and here the chairman could not direct him.
It was December 15 of 1995, and Russi stated in Bhubaneswar that he
was what the ‘wonderful government terminology described as a part-time
chairman’, who may seek information, convene meetings, but not give
instructions to the managing director. He sought advice from the audience,
present in a programme organised by the Hotel and Restaurant Association
of Orissa, on what should be his role to play. In the same gathering, when
this champion of liberalisation was asked about his views, Russi wondered
about the campaign against foreign multinational concerns, like Kentucky
Fried Chicken outlets. “Why should we be so choosy and speak about 40
per cent foreign equity?” he asked. “After all they are bringing money,
technology; above all adding to the customers’ satisfaction which is the first
and foremost objective of any industry,” he added.
Again on December 21, Russi expressed his helplessness and that he
wanted to step down, while addressing the Federation of Indian Chambers
of Commerce and Industry Ladies’ Organisation in New Delhi: “There is no
administration worth the name, no accountability, no hire and fire, and God
knows how they have managed to survive. The management’s authority has
been eroded – ground staff, pilots, air-hostesses have managed to get what
they want from a hapless management.” And though he was aware of
people’s expectation from him, under the circumstances it was just not
possible for him to deliver the goods: “I am not a chairman cum managing
director and I have no executive power.” Now he was talking openly about
the sorry state of affairs.
Meanwhile, Russi was shocked that there were no pictures or any bust
of JRD at the Air India office, the trailblazer of civil aviation in India. Not
in the conference room, not in the Airlines Building that he had built.
Almost as if JRD was never associated with civil aviation. So, he
immediately commissioned two oil-portraits and a bust. And when he
organised a function to inaugurate it, he invited all his former colleagues at
Bombay House and even dashed off a personal note to Ratan Tata, to which
he replied, expressing his inability to attend because he was going abroad.
“I must admit, not a single person from the Tatas turned up”, a despondent
Russi had stated later.
There was much more to add to his despair. One more year had wheeled
away, but time couldn’t change the way the two airlines functioned.
Although Russi kept appealing for executive power to enhance his authority
to become effective, he was provided lip service, but all his requests fell on
deaf ears. He realised it would be ‘no go’ with his limbs fettered. And
December 3 of 1996 became the D-day. He resigned as the Chairman of
Indian Airlines and Air India. Although his tenure was to end on February
28 of 1997, he sought reprieve from the responsibility of a post not worth
the name. He sent a letter to the new Civil Aviation Minister, CM Ibrahim,
asking to be relieved by the end of the same month. And his resignation was
accepted by the government within twenty-four hours.
Russi had lost hope and he quit in desolation. He was anguished that he
wanted to do so much, but could do little. The fact, however, remains that it
was partly Russi’s fault too! When offered this crucial position as chairman
of the two carriers, Russi should have been shrewd enough to check the
Airlines’ Articles of Association, which had provision only for a part-time
chairman, i.e. a rubber stamp. Once again history was repeating itself, and it
was error of judgement, as Russi tripped in being too simple a man, who
was gullible enough to take it all at the face value. The man who would
always be concerned about welfare of others could not see through, that he
was being exploited by those wanting to achieve petty and selfish
objectives. But keeping well in character, Russi had shot off this extensive
note on defining the parameters of running a public sector, to Prime
Minister Deve Gowda, Civil Aviation Minister CM Ibrahim, Civil Aviation
Consultative Committee and some eminent MPs:
In any form of industrial or commercial activity, it is the bottom line
that determines the failure or success of the enterprise. Judged by
this criterion, the Public Sector is a failure and it is heartening to
read that one of the priorities of the new Government is likely to be
a revamping of the Public Sector. The Public Sector is a gold mine,
but the Government appears to be content being in possession of the
asset, without knowing what to do with it. The country has invested
nearly Rs 300,000 crore in the public sector, not including the
Railways, and a mere 5% return on the investment would be more
than sufficient to wipe out the budgetary deficit and provide
sufficient funds to undertake several important welfare measures,
which are today suffering from lack of funds. There is no reason
why the Public Sector cannot perform as well as, if not better than,
similar units in the Private Sector. The Public Sector is manned by
people with the same educational background as in the Private
Sector and the workforce also stems from the same background,
although the work ethos may differ. So it can be confidently stated
that the Public Sector does not suffer from inferior quality of
personnel. The fact that the Public Sector does not perform
adequately is because of several factors.
The ownership as constituted at present (the equity of the Public
Sector is held by the President of India) brings in its wake many
hurdles, none of which are conducive to the proper functioning of an
enterprise. Vigilance over the enterprise is exercised by the
Members of Parliament on behalf of the President through a wide
variety of Joint Consultative Committees. The Members of
Parliament exercise this vigilance through the Minister responsible
to them, who in turn monitors the concerns through a Secretariat, in
charge of a Secretary to the Government of India, who in turn
through various Joint Secretaries exercises the jurisdiction over the
Board of Directors of the Company and the Managing Director with
varying degrees of interference. It is obvious that under this many-
tiered control of the administration, no enterprise can be a success
and if a few of them are successes, it is in spite of this!
An inhibiting factor in the success of the Public Sector is the total
lack of a good industrial relations policy. In most of the
undertakings, there is no proper accountability, no system of reward
or punishment or participation of workers in the management. The
indiscipline that has crept into the Airlines, for instance, is a sad
reflection of the almost total incapacity of man-agement to manage.
Government appears to be most reluctant to take the only rational
 step in these circumstances, namely, to declare a lock-out until
discipline is brought back. Because of the lack of managerial skills,
the amount of public money wasted is too horrendous to
contemplate. In short, it is not possible to exercise the kind of
leadership required to bring the Public Sector undertakings into
proper shape. However, leadership is not lacking, but it must be
given the opportunity to function without undue constraints. Even at
the cost of repetition, I must mention that the services offered in the
Public Sector are so diverse that the general practice of the
Government passing orders encompassing the activities of all kinds
of Government enterprises cannot and will not work, and each of
individual unit must be allowed to frame its own rules befitting its
activities. Government should concern themselves with making the
Public Sector a profitable sector and, therefore, the only thing the
Government should be involved in, is to ensure that the bottom line
is a healthy one.
It is obvious, therefore, that as in the Private Sector, the ultimate
decision-making body in the enterprise must be the Board of
Directors of the Company. No decision of theirs should be
challenged except by the shareholders at the Annual General
Meeting. To achieve this, it is necessary that the equity ownership
should not rest at 100% with the President of India and the only way
to do away with the interference of Parliament is to reduce the
President’s holding to less than 50%.
I, for one, am not in favour of privatisation, as is commonly
understood, to achieve this end, but I am in favour of privatisation
of management as stated above and this can be best achieved by the
following formula:

1. All Public Sector Undertakings should make an offer of up to 20% of

their equity to the employees of the organisation.
2. The balance should be equally divided between the President of India
and the financial institutions. Thus, the ownership remains with the
people of India and not with some private enterprise and at the same
time, the equity held by the President is reduced to below 50%.
No amount of financial restructuring will bring about the desired
result unless there is a rethinking on the subject of administration.
The Public Sector should not be treated as a Department of the
Government, but as an entity making its own rules and regulations
depending on the kind of activity it is involved in. I can quote many
examples where blindly following a Government directive is not in
the interests of an enterprise. It is, therefore, necessary to look at the
manning structure of the Public Sector.
Today, a large number of enterprises in the Public Sector are
presided over or executively controlled by members of the civil
service. No one recognises the worth of the civil service more than I
do, but a civil servant’s experience and training has been for the
governance of the country and the great departments of State and
not for the running of Industrial/commercial enterprises. A civil
servant is as much at sea in the Public Sector as I would be in the
North Block or South Block. It is my considered view, there-fore,
that the Government should discourage the employment of civil
servants or bureaucrats in the Public Sector either in an executive
capacity or on its Board of Directors. To man the many positions
that will then fall vacant if this is introduced, there should be a
Selection Board separate from the PSEB and the procedure for
recruitment by this Board should be considerably simplified. If the
steps suggested in this note are implemented and proper publicity
given to Government’s decisions in this regard, it should be possible
to recruit large numbers from the Private Sector. This is not going to
be an easy task and time-consuming. However, it is an exercise that
is necessary and has to be undertaken. In stating this, I am conscious
of the fact that many Private Sector executives have been failures in
the Public Sector, but considering the constraints under which they
have had to operate, this is not surprising.
To summarise, in the revamping of the Public Sector, I would
recommend four objectives as stated above:

Restructuring of the equity base. Elimination of civil servants or

bureaucrats from the Public Sector.
 Making the Board of Directors of the Public Sector the final decision-
making authority for the individual units. The emphasis should be on
privatisation of Management and not disinvestment, which appears to
be the cry of the moment.

This is a tall order and not likely to be popular in all quarters. The
goal should be to run the Public Sector in a manner which will yield
a reasonable return on the enormous sums of money that have been
invested by the people of this country and whose hopes have so far
been belied…
The posers were far too many, and the multiple interpretations even
exceeded those queries. In this jumble of speculations, some pointed their
finger at men, like Probir Sen, while others thought that Russi got entangled
in red-tape, and the only way out was to call it a day. But this entire
imbroglio was summed up incisively by Vir Sanghvi, editor of the weekly
Sunday:
It has become fashionable now to look for scapegoats for the failure
of Russi Mody’s term as chairman of Indian Airlines and Air India.
Was it Russi’s own fault? Was he destroyed by Probir Sen? Did
Brijesh Kumar form part of an IAS caucus that kept him out? Was
the civil aviation ministry not supportive enough? I have my own
theory. It was Narasimha Rao’s fault. At that stage, Rao needed to
bring in private sector people to show that his government was
willing to hire the best and the brightest… After the Jamshedpur
coup, Verma sensed that Russi would now be ready for a
government assignment... Russi Mody has many strengths but being
street-smart is not one of them. He can be childishly naive when
people he respects say things to him... Had it not been for the bitter
memories of the Tata Steel struggle, Russi would probably have
recognised that he had been made a fool of and thrown in the towel
much earlier. But because of the circumstances of his departure from
Jamshedpur, he did not want a second messy exit…
So, for two years the charade continued. Russi made promises to the
unions; the management told them not to take him seriously. He
went about promoting the merger concept; Indian Airlines simply
laughed at him. He kept suggesting potential managing directors;
 Narasimha Rao threw his letters into the wastepaper basket. Finally,
he has done the sensible thing. His departure will be seen by his
critics as confirmation of the view that a private sector manager
can’t succeed in the public sector. I see it as proof that the political
system will use anybody to cover up its own failings. The problem
was not that Russi was ineffective. It was that nobody allowed – or
ever wanted – him to be effective. Narasimha Rao had chickened
out on the issue of privatising the airlines and needed a face-saver to
divert attention. Russi Mody was the perfect face-saver.
At the press conference right after his resignation, Russi shot all the
salvos, beginning with, “Age has nothing to do with effectiveness... A
carpenter cannot build a cupboard without his tools. Likewise a manager
cannot manage without authority. I tried to obtain that authority for a couple
of years. Even the Prime Minister could not help, he cannot override
government rules.” A staunch and outspoken critic of government controls
on industry, Russi never faltered on consistency of his views, nor did he
change his tune with time: “The essence of economic liberalisation and
globali-sation is competition. Competition is good for industry, but vested
interests get hurt, so they cry for protection. This is nothing but a veiled
attempt to bring back controls. My idea of privatisation was only for the
Company. I don’t care who owns the Company, but the MD, the Chairman,
the Board of Directors must run the company, not some outside influence.
But I soon found that I was spending hours and hours without a penny
sausage. I got all the flak for my troubles, and both the managing directors
took full credit for whatever happened right.”
He made it clear that he was “not trying to justify his action” but to
inform “how public money was being misused by some who are sitting with
nice soft jobs”. The Air India Board had passed the resolution accepting the
recommendation of the merger at a meeting on September 24 of 1996. And
though the board had authorised the chairman to take up the matter with
CM Ibrahim, Russi failed as he was given to understand that such a merger
was impossible. Referring to the minutes of the October, 26, 1996 meeting
of the two-member merger committee comprising Inder Sharma and Suresh
Keswani, he said the minutes provided several reasons behind the need to
merge the two airlines.
 The management wizard, well into his seventies, who had firmly stated
that he “would not take one naya paisa” and he was past the stage “where I
do things for money or for prestige,” his sole raison d’etre for accepting the
job was “enjoying the challenge”. Sticking to his guns, he continued to fire,
“Unless the two airlines are merged by the turn of the century, it would
prove to be a disaster, especially for Air India.” A decade hence, Russi’s
words have more than proved their veracity; both in terms of the pathetic
state of Air India, and the wheel of fortune finally urging the powers that be
to make an aggressive move on the merger of the national and international
carriers.
And now Russi could have rephrased his own expression – bigger the
man, the more he would be haunted. Once again he was caught in the
hurricane as media reported that the Enforcement Directorate was
investigating his involvement in alleged Foreign Exchange Regulation Act
vio-lations for the import of an aircraft by Tisco. It was attributed to
aviation ministry sources that this investigation led the ministry to ask Russi
to step down as the chairman of Indian Airlines-Air India board. The case
in question pertained to the procurement of a 10-seater Cessna Citation II
(1996 model) that was in the possession of Tata Korf, the Company Russi
had set up and chaired. He completely refuted every allegation saying, “My
resignation has nothing to do with the, ‘alleged probe’. I have resigned of
my own will.” And as for the investigations by the Directorate, Russi said
that the aircraft had been sent in by Willie Korf, for the use of officials from
Korf, who needed an aircraft to commute within India, and him, since he
was chairman of Tata Korf, and as much his personal friend.
There was total confusion about the actual ownership of the plane –
whether it belonged to Korf or Tata Korf. But it certainly didn’t belong to
Russi, as he had told The Economic Times, way back in May of 1993: “I
am neither responsible in its coming here, nor its ownership, nor its sale. I
have nothing to do with the blessed aircraft except that I was using it
because I was the late Willie Korf’s friend. The amount of things being
written about is making my blood boil.” While there was a twist in the tale
with various versions whether the plane was a gift from Tisco’s German
partner, or it had been bought, Russi deflected any further allegation with a
counter-question: “If the plane never belonged to Tata Steel, then please ask
Ratan Tata why he is using it?” And again he stood his ground when
questioned by the same paper in December of 1996: “The placement of the
plane has been repeatedly accepted by the government of India, and
therefore, there is no truth in the allegation that the aircraft belongs to Tata
Korf or to me.”
 
 
SOMEWHERE, RUSSI AS A YOUNG LAD admired Sir Homi’s
dedication to social welfare, as he would often see his father discussing
these issues with the national leaders. This consciousness was strongly
reflected in his 24th Shri Ram Memorial lecture, seeking The True Indian:
India today is most strife-worn and divided and yet we beguile
ourselves with the thought that we are one nation. But are we really
so? Granted that we are one nation, for how long shall we continue
to be so? Unfortunately, India has never been one nation except
under foreign domination. Therefore, we must recognise and pay
tribute to the fact that we have managed to maintain at least the
façade of a nation for fifty years under a democratic setup. That,
however, does not alter the reality that India today is under a strain
which may well break it up. The disruptive forces in Kashmir,
Punjab and Assam threaten to tear the country apart, so that it is
difficult to visualise India, as we have known, continuing beyond
the end of this century.
From the day India became free till today our politicians have
spouted forth popular vote-catching slogans, without living up to
even one of them. Paying only lip service to these, they have talked
of national integration. To start off, they brought into being
linguistic states. That was, in my opinion, the first major blow to
India’s unity. Unfortunately, not a single step has since been taken to
break down the communal or caste barriers. In fact, the contrary has
been the case. India has been bleeding all these years, but what have
we done? Instead of applying the healing touch, we have inflicted
on her one grievous wound after another. Can any of our rulers free
himself or herself from the responsibility of throwing the nation into
such a sorry state?
Coming to moral standards, we can safely say that we have
eradicated the word ‘morality’ from our dictionary. Our values of
honesty, integrity and decency have been eroded to an extent which
makes one’s head hang in shame. Each and every one of us has
contributed to this to some extent, but again, I hold the politician
responsible for this state of affairs. In his own greed, he has
corrupted the nation itself. Much of the high political drama we
witness is the outcome of the politician’s moral bankruptcy and his
refusal to see beyond his electoral nose. The blame for the caste and
communal riots which the country has witnessed can also be laid
squarely at the door of the politician. There is nothing a politician
will not do to hold on to power, even become a patriot. Sadly the
greatest victim of his action is the country itself, while the politician
himself has nothing better to lose than everything it prides itself on.
In fact, if the situation does not improve fast, the nation will lose the
very ability to survive.
It is a great irony that, in spite of the enormous resources in minerals
and skilled manpower, we are amongst the poorest countries of the
world. The only reason why Indians are not allowed to contribute to
the national wealth is that the politician and the bureaucrat make it a
point to interfere in areas with which they are totally unfamiliar. The
long-term result of all these will be that we shall be left far, far
behind the rest of the world...There are millions in our country who
do not have one square meal a day...
Our bureaucrats are very intelligent people who fully understand the
compulsion for economic progress, but are tethered to their desire
for power and patronage. Therefore, having been brought up on
socialistic dogma which they found very convenient for the exercise
of their power through state controls, they have now put on blinkers
and are refusing to see what is happening in the rest of the world...
Some vested interests seem to have a horror of multinationals
coming into this country, but we are quite wiling to go with a
beggar’s bowl to international banks for money, which we will have
to repay with interest from the very first year of borrowing...
I yield to no one in my desire to see the democratic way of life
flourishing in our country and I abhor all kind of dictatorships. But
if pursuance of a democratic philosophy lands the nation in a state
of peril, then I, for one, would not mind if some freedoms are
curtailed for sometime.
These days, I often ask myself what is the rarest commodity in India
today. And the answer which I get from deep within myself is: An
Indian is the rarest commodity in India. We have, therefore, to bend
all our energies to creating conditions in which a true Indian
emerges again, because if we do not have Indians, we will not have
an India. Who is an Indian? An Indian, according to me, is one who,
in dealing with men and matters, is absolutely free from
considerations of region, language, caste or religion. Today, he does
not exist. Regional and linguistic chauvinism and religious and caste
prejudices have made the true Indian disappear, and he is unlikely to
re-emerge unless a proper climate is created for his survival.
During the past several years, whenever I have felt disheartened
about the state of our country, I have, like many others, consoled
myself with the thought that ours is a young democracy, and what
we are witnessing are its birth pangs. It is from this that a thought
occurs to me that human or animal evolution is no different from a
political movement.
Most of you have children, and during the years that they grow up, I
am sure, they enjoy a considerable amount of freedom. But until
they grow up, surely you would guide them into good ways, and
should they be falling into evil habits, you would certainly save
them from these. What I have in mind for the evolution of our
democracy is nothing more than this. I feel that the time has come
when we must practise some kind of protected democracy.
I would urge you to visualise a society in which freedom of speech,
practice of religion, the rule of law, the right to dissent, the right to
hold elections, the right to change a government and the right to
criticise its policy would not be denied. If the dire need of the day is
to create an Indian, then all the curbs that I would advocate would
be directed towards that end because, as I have said before, without
an Indian, there can be no India. In India, there are millions of
Muslims and many more millions of Hindus. There are millions of
Sikhs and millions of Christians. In India there are millions of
Brahmins, Rajputs, Kayasthas. Recently India has been split further
into upper caste, lower caste, backward caste, forward caste, etc. In
India, we have states bigger than many European countries and
people hailing from these states call themselves Punjabi, Bengali,
Bihari, Maharashtrian, Tamilian, Andhraite, etc. The rarest
commodity in India is an Indian, and what I propose is that we
should make one serious effort to create this creature.
We should, therefore, decree for a period of a few years, to ensure
that there would be no outward manifestation of religion or
propagation of one religion against another or one caste against
another, that all religious processions be banned – religion is for the
place of worship or in one’s home and not in any form in the streets
– and that the press and electronic media be totally barred from
printing or reporting matters which touch on communalism or
casteism. Any political party that propounds religion or caste as a
programme should be legally banned. Concurrent with this
programme, educational institutions must be urged to inculcate
patriotism in each and every one of their pupils. In my own
Company, I abolished all mention of religion or caste in any
employment form or in any advertisement, and I would urge all
members of the business community to do so in their own concerns.
Parliament should insist, and, if necessary, the Constitution should
be amended to ensure that all Indians are subject to a common civil
law. This then is the extent to which I would curb the freedom of our
democratic life.
To put a programme like this into effect, every political party would
require looking for leadership of the highest calibre and stature and,
if elected as prime minister through the democratic process, such a
leader should have our total support, irrespective of the party he
represents. In the present state of our nation, the people are crying
out for a leadership which will arrest our downhill slide and change
the direction India has taken...
To those who feel that this is the thin end of the wedge for such a
leader to arrogate to himself absolute power until all liberties are
lost, I will only say that the best safeguard against such a possibility
 would be the Constitution, the parliamentary procedure and the
courts of law, all of which would be left untouched. Therefore, I do
believe that, at the end of, say, a period of ten years or so, we shall
have brought back sanity to our people.
If what I have said has caused offence to anyone, I sincerely
apologise. If there is any other way of achieving this end, I would be
equally happy, but my joy would know no bounds if the end I have
in view could be achieved through persuasion and good sense; but I
repeat again that, if this is not possible, then some measure of
compulsion must be applied if India is to be saved. Only Indians can
save India and not any political party or theory. Forgetting the past,
let us move forward to the creation of citizens who truly believe that
India is more important than anything else in this country.
An abiding concern at all levels, and the felicity to put it across so
lucidly, remained the hallmark of Russi. “Why do you want India to
become a superpower?” he asked. “There is a mad scramble for
accumulating armaments in the world now, when we all know that the days
are gone when one country would invade another and colonise it. Trillions
and trillions of dollars are spent on armaments, which if used for the uplift
of the poor, would have made the world look so much different today.” And
there-by, he drew a logical analogy: “Sometimes we Indians are very
callous to our surroundings. We take it and accept it. This is one thing I
cannot understand. If we can stage a CHOGM and an ASIAD that requires
great organisational abilities, why can’t we organise ourselves to see that
we are provided with adequate electricity? It does not seem that we are the
same people.”
Always ripping through duplicity and double-speak, for an industrialist
to even foster a frank opinion on political leaders was unparalleled: “In
India, good leadership is something very scarce. I don’t mean people who
shout in the masses, they are not leaders. We have had a succession of
prime ministers in the past few years, do you call them leaders? I don’t.
Yes, there are a few though. The general level of education among the
politicians will always keep pace with the general level of education among
the voters. After all, it’s them who vote the politician to power… We need a
major revolution in the quality of our leaders. When there is no realisation
of the real issues of the people, no policy would ever give any concrete
results. Slogans and promises do not make a policy.”
But when Russi jumped into the fray, and made his first foray into
politics, contesting in the 1988 general elections from South Bihar, it was
assailed as ‘hunger for power’. Or, more likely, as a step taken to avenge
the Tatas! Not the one to get perturbed, he took on his critics head-on: “I’m
not an ‘Angel of Vengeance’. It is purely an effort to lend voice to the silent
sufferers.” A man of his stature deserved to be a governor, but murky
politics blocked the way. Repeated attempts made by Viren J Shah, Russi’s
industrialist friend and former Governor of West Bengal, to uphold his
friend’s candidature, went in vain, as it lacked any political backing.
Perhaps at this juncture, Russi was fast to realise the need of support of
someone who would be politically mature, yet not lured by the lucre often
associated with it. This led to his meeting with Mamata Banerjee, the leader
of Trinamul Congress, and since she intended to extend her political base
beyond West Bengal, such an association with a man of his eminence would
have added to the power quotient of her party. Though collaboration was on
the cards, this move, however, was in all probability not approved by
Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP), as an extended base of Trinamul Congress in
the neighbouring states might have endangered its hold.
After endless assumptions over his party affiliation, Russi-watchers
were quite taken aback when he filed his nomination as an independent
candidate from the East Singhbhum constituency in South Bihar: the city of
Jamshedpur and its suburbs form a large chunk of this constituency. While
no political party approached him for his candidature in the ensuing poll,
the masses of Jamadoba, West Bokaro and Noamundi, conveyed their
wishes to canvass for him. “I am a young man of eighty. After enjoying a
hectic youth, I’m leading a peaceful life. I want to give back to the people
the love and affection I received from them over the years… I am not
courting any party,” declared Russi. And his man Friday and media advisor,
Ashok Tomar, affirmed, “We’ve been flooded with letters by the people of
those areas conveying their support for Mr Mody.”
 
 
IT WAS JANUARY 24 OF 1998. The air was still nippy in the hilly area of
Jamshedpur. At about 11 am, Steel Express chugged into the Tatanagar
station. This portly young octogenarian emerged from the AC chair car. His
co-passengers wowed on seeing the former chairman of Tisco amidst them.
They simply couldn’t believe their eyes that Russi Mody was travelling by
train. Here was a man, who always had a Tata plane at his disposal even for
a short haul from Calcutta to Jamshedpur. And now he had to make a
journey for over three hours by rail. Although the corporate glitz had
dimmed, yet his popularity had not ebbed, which was evident when a group
of people shouted, “Welcome Mody Saab.” A garlanded Russi cast a benign
smile at the people waiting for him at the platform. From the crowd
someone identified Silloo Mody, his beautiful and elegant wife. Though
officially separated, they’ve remained the best of friends, and she was here
to lend her support. “There is Memsaab! Age doesn’t seem to have taken a
toll on her looks!” He whispered to his friend.
Russi walked out of the station flanked by his wife and his confidant,
Aditya Kashyap, and boarded a Tata Sumo. One of his companions
instructed the driver, “Zara meethi chaal se chalao. (Move at a sweet pace).”
The idea was, perhaps, to let the people have a glimpse of Russi and
exchange a tacit smile with him. The USP set for his electoral campaign
evidently was, ‘I know you, you know me.’ As the convoy moved at a
leisurely pace past the Tisco plant, some old workers waved at him, while
others cast a blank stare, showing their ignorance about the man inside the
jeep and his mission that brought him here. By then, posters carrying the
half-bust picture of Russi in his colourful T-shirt with his genial smile had
flooded the city walls. Amidst everything what didn’t escape Russi’s mind
was that so many people of Jamshedpur couldn’t recognise him. He advised
Kashyap to work on that aspect.
Spread over six Assembly segments, it was a three-way fight between
Abha Mahato of the BJP (she was the wife of Shailendra Mahato, who
made news in the JMM bribery case during the regime of the former Prime
Minister Narasimha Rao, and perceived as the strongest contender),
Onkarnath Jaiswal of the Rashtriya Janata Dal and Russi Mody, the
independent candidate. Voting was scheduled for February 16. It was being
postulated whether Russi’s fight was more against his former colleague Dr
Irani, the MD of Tisco, or his electoral opponents. But Russi was least
muddled on the issue as he stated openly, “I have no animus towards the
Tatas. I supported them in the Tata-Singapore Airlines and Tata Tea-ULFA
controversies. But I am persona non grata in Jamshedpur, and my relations
with Dr Irani are as warm as the Arctic Ocean. When I come here, the
penguins receive me with a lot of warmth. I want to give back something to
the people with whom I have spent so much of my life.”
Russi’s primary concern was to serve his people, not the endorsement of
any political banner. “I have been in politics longer than I can remember,”
he revealed. “Way back in 1937, Sabavala took me to the Indian National
Congress office and made me a four-anna member of the party. And in
1984, Mrs Gandhi had wanted me to contest, but she was assassinated. My
feeling now is that as a citizen of this country, I would help in any way I
can to do something to mitigate the injustice and unfairness of the world. I
am interested in everything in South Bihar, for this area has such a vast
potential, but it has been given a raw deal.” And that his decision to contest
was prompted by his friends: “Every time I visit Jamshedpur, many people
approach me to stand for Parliament, should an early election be
announced. The pressure had been building up to such an extent that I had
to seriously consider meeting their wishes.”
But why did he choose Jamshedpur as his political platform? This
question loomed large and his answer was plain and simple: “Where else
can I go, because this is the place where my mother sleeps forever. I have
numerous friends here, I can feel the pulse of the common people here… I
have nothing against anyone, not even my political rivals. I wish to contest
the polls on a positive note. My slogan is, ‘Job for every hand and water for
every village in this tribal belt’.” No, Russi didn’t have any manifesto.
When asked, he said, “Politicians make many promises, which they rarely
keep. All I can say is that problems of the people of this belt are my
problems. I am not into politics for a ministerial berth. The people want me
to join politics. I have nothing to offer except my past work for the uplift of
the region and Tisco in particular. These are my bona fides.”
The former chief of Tisco, who had even been made “to account for two
wine glasses”, was irked as he hadn’t anticipated that even hoteliers in
Jamshedpur would be cagey about lodging him and his entourage; nor
would the estate agents come forward to help the erstwhile raja of the steel
city find a place for his party office. Finally, he managed to find some
accommodation in the circuit house area from where he flagged off his
campaign. In an earlier incident a year before, on November 27 of 1997, it
had been alleged that Russi had entered the Tisco premises through Burma
mines gate leaving the security personnel zapped by his sudden appearance.
Although an FIR was lodged for intrusion against the vehicle carrying him,
the investigation showed that Russi apparently had no intention to share the
evening with the workers on any political issue. He asserted that he went
inside to tell them that every worker should try to stop the management
from closing down the old sheet mill, set up in 1928, and convince them to
invest on newer projects to stay afloat in the highly competitive market.
When Russi got to know about the charge sheet served to two security
guards for their negligence on duty, he was quick to respond in a note,
saying that if his entry to the factory had harmed the management, he was
solely responsible and nobody else. Any charge, if instituted, would be
borne by him. He also sent a reply to the Superintendent of Police stating
among other things: “The bond between the workers and me is such that no
power on earth can separate us for long. Having been deprived of this for
nearly five years, I could not resist the urge to do what I did.” And this time
round, it was reported that some of Russi’s supporters had managed to
hoodwink the security guards and stuck posters inside the compound of the
plant. Interestingly, a former recruit of Russi who now handled corporate
communi-cation for Tata Steel, somewhat apprehended that his ex-boss’s
success could be mainly determined by the rural areas given Russi’s appeal.
This happened to be true, as he met with overwhelming support as and
when he visited the rural areas. That was crucial, for in the total
constituency strength of twelve lakh, the rural segment comprised seven
lakh constituents.
As some local people met Russi at the hotel where he was staying, they
had been cautioned of its consequence. Later it came to light that a sizeable
number had come to ask him for a job. They had hopes that “… Kuch to
hamare liye kar hi deingey. (He’ll do some thing for us).” He listened to
their pleas, and said later, “They have come to me because they seek solace
in me, how can I avoid them?” That’s Russi. What love and respect he still
commanded from the local inhabitants of this industrial city. And his
stridently secular appeal cut across the community lines, as a local resident
upheld this view. “During his election campaign, Iftar party was going on in
those areas inhabited by Muslims. The local headman, Mohammad Zainul
served Mody Saab a slice of fruit. As he ate the slice, all the people around
became ecstatic and Zainul said, ‘It is such an honour to feed Mody Saab.’
As he spoke to the crowd, ‘There will be no Muslims, no Hindus, no
Bengalis, no Oriyas…only Indians’, the effect was dramatic. A thunder of
claps filled the air.”
Russi’s contention about Dr Irani was not baseless as the latter went out
of his way to show his antagonism saying, “It is difficult for any person to
win from here (Jamshedpur) without the blessings of Tatas. However, Mr
Mody is not the right person and how can you start a new career at eighty?”
Dr Irani’s words created a commotion, although Russi remained indifferent
to what was happening, as his experience had taught him to ignore
unwarranted criticism. But Jamshedpur Nagarik Parishad took it up as a
defamatory statement against Indian democracy. Russi’s growing popularity
made his opponents pull up their socks. He wouldn’t succumb so easily and
the only option left to curb his unabashed spirit was through ‘character
assassination’.
It was both tough and unpleasant, but Russi was unfazed. While others
kept themselves busy in plotting against him, he was in his element,
continuing with his campaign, pushing sixteen hours a day, fighting to
recapture some of the stardom he had as the amiable boss of Tisco. Every
morning he would set out in his Tata Sumo, and as his jeep sped along the
rocky terrain, people would flock together and follow the trail leading to
their villages to cheer Mody Saab. “Uncle, you have to win”, a tribal youth
yelled as Mody drove past. “See”, he preened. “And people say how can
someone who lives like a king relate to the poor?” Right through, Russi had
been a crowd-puller and people gathered in hordes to listen to him
whenever he called for a meeting. In a red polo shirt and slacks, he would
roam about, and carry on the tirade against the negligence of the civic
authorities that didn’t seem to look after the city he had seen growing over
the last fifty years. “Aapki taklif meri hoyenga (Your trouble would be
mine),” he would say in his anglicised Hindi. He was frank with his
electorate: “I make no promises except that whenever any problem arises
affecting the people, Sadak,bijli,paani (roads, electricity, water), I will treat
it as my problem and do my best to put it right.” The ‘lotus’, BJP’s election
symbol, however, was being seriously challenged by ‘dholak’, the symbol
of Russi. As he played on the dholak, and professed that he was seeking
office for Jamshedpur’s resurrection, his critics sniggered it was more for
his own, and he liked to beat his own drum.
Least conscious about his status, or being fastidious about his food in
the given circumstances, Russi would just enjoy whatever grub he could
grab. It was said that during his marathon campaign, he happened to catch
sight of a chicken. He shouted, “Chicken! Chicken!” After a non-stop tiring
tour, only a foodie like Russi could have poulet on his mind.
Ten years down the line, what he still recalls fondly is “going and
meeting people and making speeches in a language which I didn’t know too
well. My forte has always been to meet people. I’m a people’s person. I
love people and by and large people love me, and that makes life for me.
They still fascinate me. People fascinate me. You see history is all about
people.” But Russi couldn’t make it to the Parliament. He might have lost
the election, but having scored 1, 99, 253 votes from the city and the
neighbourhoods of Jamshedpur without any party affiliation or the benefit
of cadres, he displayed that the citizens here had translated their trust and
affection for Russi into ballot papers. He was the second highest loser as an
independent candidate. And he maintains, “Actually I had won that
election. They fudged with my counting and all that, but I didn’t bother to
appeal against it. Well, it was a very noble experience. Have you ever heard
of a losing candidate getting two lakh votes?” It was even alleged that Russi
had indulged in some physical violence with supporters of opposition
candidates: “They made all kinds of attempts to implicate me falsely in
some wrongdoings, and must have derived enormous satisfaction from the
fact that I lost.” Ironically, this was also the year when Russi was honoured
as member of the ‘International Who’s Who of Professionals’ for 1998.
A spirited Russi had taken up his fight earnestly, and he penned an
elaborate piece, Whither India, proposing that the government should ask
the top industrial houses to fund and maintain some tubewells in areas
where clean potable water is not available:
Fifty years ago, we chose democracy as the best means of governing
ourselves. Democracy ensures that the opinions and actions of the
majority must prevail and the minority must show the necessary
tolerance to accept this. Democracy can only be a success if the
 people are educated enough to recognise this and the end result must
be good governance and the progress of the country. If the freedom
that democracy ensures is turned into license, then we have failed to
take advantage of a democratic life. We may have achieved progress
in one or two fields such as agriculture and information technology,
but certainly we have not been successful in governing ourselves.

Contesting the Lok Sabha election in South Bihar,1998: “The political

system arising out of the party-based democracy is not really caring for the
poor.
  

”With Khan Abdul Ghaffar Khan: the Frontier Gandhi

 With the revolutionary leader,Jayaprakash Narayan

With Prime Minister Indira Gandhi: “She’s one of the best prime
ministers that the country ever had,though she made some mistakes.”
With Prime Minister Rajiv Gandhi
With his friend PN Haksar: the confidant of Indira Gandhi

With former Governor of West Bengal,Prof Nural Hasan

With the late Chief Minister of West Bengal,BC Roy: “A man of great
stature.”
With the former Chief Minister of West Bengal,Jyoti Basu: “I wish he
would smile a little.
”With industrialist and former Governor of West Bengal,Viren J Shah
 With the Governor of West Bengal,Gopalkrishna Gandhi
All political parties have fed the public with their manifestos. It is clear
that all political parties have lost total contact with the people of the
country. The interests of the country have been forgotten. After misleading
the people of the country for fifty years, the politicians have now
abandoned them. The tragedy that faces India as a result of the population
explosion, bringing in its wake economic distress all around, has not evoked
any particular concern to any political party. Not a single effective step has
been implemented towards national integration.
The youth of the country – for whom a bright future had been
forecast – have been forgotten. Their employment potential,
educational and recreational needs and their mobilisation to help in
running the country are mere slogans. The needs of the sick and the
ailing in the form of better medical services and hospitals have been
discarded. Most shameful of all, after fifty years of ruling ourselves,
there are millions of people in our country without drinking water!
Can we call ourselves civilised?
Finally, the failure to manage the public sector has resulted in a
desire to scuttle the industries through disinvestment thereby
depriving the exchequer of thousands of crores of rupees on an
annual basis.
It is time that the entire country woke up to the fact that at present in
our society there is a total lack of leadership, efficiency, education
and discipline. This is what the people need and want, and not
empty promises about secularism, Ayodhya and cast-based politics.
‘Garibi Hatao’has to be converted from a slogan into a vibrant
programme of activities. The older generation has failed this country
and the new generation needs to take up the reins of the government.
Is there any reason why everybody in the country has to retire at
fifty-eight/sixty years, but politicians can carry on beyond this age?
All these may sound utopian, but if the mind is set towards action
rather than words and slogans, the sfollowing agenda is within the
realms of possibility:

A major attempt towards population control on the lines of the Chinese

experience.
Positive steps towards national integration.
Public sectors must be made to work and conserve wealth for the
nation. What is required is privatisation of management and not
privatisation of equity. On a rough estimate, properly run public sector
can bring the exchequer between Rs 15,000 to Rs 20,000 crore per
year.
Steps must be taken to ensure that in two years’ time, there will be no
one in India without drinking water. If the mind is set, this is not
difficult to achieve.
No Indian will be without education.
No Indian will be without medical care and attention.
There will be plenty of opportunities for young people to indulge in
sports and recreation. One bronze medal for a country with a
population of one billion people is an eye-opener.
 All existing roads should be maintained properly and new ones built as
a means of creating vast employment potential. A flyover in all
metropolitan cities is a must.
Discipline will be maintained in all walks of life, even if it means
giving up some fundamental rights for a period of time.
In all matters and on all questions the country’s best interest is to be of
paramount concern.

It is also interesting to note that it was not uncharacteristic of Russi to

take this plunge into politics, since he strongly felt “industry and politics are
interrelated” and that his business interests wouldn’t suffer in any way,
given his radical views. And soon after, he unveiled his plan to float a union
in Jamshedpur that would give cover to all industrial establishments in the
steel city. The ‘Jamshedpur Workers’ Union’, he claimed would be a
‘manch’, a citizens’ forum to address the grievances of the working classes
in the city, and a step in the right direction “at making people happy.” Some
of the activities that were to be undertaken following the collection of ade-
quate funds, included development of villages that would involve
arrangements for electricity and drinking water, educational facilities for
poor students and medical facilities on the lines of a mobile ambulance
service. “This will be an apolitical body. However, it may later lead to the
formation of a political body if the strength is substantial,” he declared. And
anticipating the reaction of Tata Steel, he said, “They will definitely not be
pleased, but pleasing them is not what I have in mind.” He promised that he
would try and give the workers the kind of leadership exemplified by the
likes of Ben Bradley.
Though Russi’s supporters asserted he needed to indulge in such pro-
labour antics before he finally launched his union, the Tata Steel officials
felt he just wanted to create problems to show the management in poor
light. Well, the editorials entreated him very subtly to desist from such
actions, as he was cut out for bigger things and that trade unionism was not
his cup of tea. And Russi’s reaction was: “Although I am prepared to serve
as the president of the union. I will do my best to restore their former pride
and courage, and champion their cause for a better deal.” Also that he
would never contest an election though what was uppermost on his mind
was ‘the formation of the Jharkhand state’. Well, he could claim that he had
a prophetic vision. That state was eventually formed. And when a paper
questioned, “whether Russi would emerge as a champion of oppressed
workers, or a Don Quixote charging at windmills”, the answer remained
elusive, as he moved on to other larger issues, like the bane of a democratic
set-up and the India of his dreams.
 
 
OFTEN MISTAKEN FOR DICTATORIAL tendencies, Russi wanted to
distil his views on this highly sensitive subject. And went on to say: “I don’t
decry true democracy or democratic values. But the political system not
really caring for the poor arising out of the party-based democracy is our
greatest problem. I only wish that our leaders understand this and bring
about the required change. A change bringing change for the people! I am
obsessed with my country and its people, and would like to see it become
‘the’ country of the next millennium. Every citizen here has the right to
smile and I am obsessive about seeing that ‘smile’ on the face of every
Indian… We have the largest democracy in the world, yes, by just choosing
a government by casting a free vote. But democracy is a way of life. How
can we call it a democracy when in some states 30 per cent of the MLAs are
with criminal records? Democracy is a part of Western civilisation. It’s an
evolution that takes place. That evolution has not taken place so far because
we haven’t given ourselves long enough. We are very young as a nation,
allowing anybody to form a party. In any democratic country, the ideal
political structures for the country, is to have only three kinds of political
parties – leftist, rightist and centrist. There is a school of thought that
believes that coalitions have come to stay, but in the long run a one-party
government is the best. Political instability has harmed the country in more
ways than one can count.”
He sounded dejected, as he had an India of his dreams: “I remember
vividly how I, along with millions of others in this country had visions of
India about to become free and master of its own destiny. The foreigner was
about to leave and the teeming millions of the less privileged in this country
rightly believed that their well-to-do brethren would rule the country in a
manner that would soon make them forget the burden and yoke of British
rule. Events have proved that it was only a dream. There is, however, one
dream that has permanently scarred me and the hurt of which it is not easy
to eradicate that what right have we to call ourselves great or civilised if we
can’t provide basic amenities to our villages? To me the non-economic
factors top the priority list and without them you cannot be a great
economy... Or else the talk of Balkanisation of the country would be a
reality.”
And his shattered dreams about India has made it “incredibly painful”
for him, as “the rulers in India, and they include politicians and bureaucrats,
think of their position as number one, their pockets as number two, their
relations and friends as number three, their party number four, and their
country comes last. Once in five years they talk about India, during the time
of elections and that’s it.”
He continued to revel in his reveries, but there was only one dream that
was left in the realm of fantasy. And he dreamt that he was the Lee Kuan
Yew of India, and that someday he might be able to bring the same
prosperity and discipline to India as prevails in Singapore. And that’s what
made him state repeatedly that “for a while India needs a regimented
society. Or at least we need a Lee Kuan Yew. I want to see the poor man
being properly clothed during winter, his child being educated and he
should be able to receive proper medical treatment when he falls sick.
These are the basic things we should be talking about while aspiring for the
real growth. Any dictatorship for five years on the lines of Lee Kuan Yew, I
thought, would turn the country around… I would not be cruel and would
welcome suggestions from everyone, but once a decision is taken everyone
will have to abide by it. And anyone who did not want to obey the laws or
was found to be corrupt, I would put them in a boat to Andaman. They
would be free to leave the Andaman for any other country in the world that
would accept them.”
Amidst all that which might have gone so seriously wrong, Russi sees
that ray of real hope in the intelligentsia: “The talent of right leadership for
India lies hidden in fields other than politics. Our political system has failed
to mobilise the enormous leadership talent lying untapped in the
intelligentsia. The Indian intelligentsia has the ability to lead India on the
international platform.” And that’s how it should be.

 
  

V
A CHORTLING CONNOISSEUR
 
Russi’s chuckles have sustained his high spirits as he heartily turns a
nonagenarian. A man for all seasons and all reasons, he obviously
subscribes to Bobby McFerrin’s breezy lyric, “Don’t worry, be happy…”
Life may have been one big roller-coaster, but Russi got the better of
himself just living it up, and simply defying the vagaries of age. “Those
who think I’m sixty are my friends forever. Those who regard me as a
seventy-year-old are acquaintances to be tolerated; and those who now see
me as a ninety-year-old, are truthful enough but need to be axed
nevertheless,” he chortles as he acknowledges his enormous appetite for
life, and continues to astonish his admirers. “Age is purely statistical. It has
nothing to do with the quality of life.” If every day is a new dawn and
you’ve lived nine decades to the hilt, then he can still liven up a party,
chanting his favourite French numbers on his grand piano, the Steinway. A
man of great finesse and connoisseur to the core, Russi’s penchant for
music doesn’t come as a surprise.
Keen on listening to Frédéric Chopin and Wolfgang Mozart, the great
composers of Western Classical, he’s as much a follower of Frank Sinatra
as Michael Jackson. And if it has been your wildest dream to listen to Paul
Mauriat, he walks up to the piano, to recreate the sentimental ditties of the
forties and the fifties, with a teenager’s ardour. The listeners may well
mistake him for that passionate young man who would enthral his fellow
Oxonians in the late 1930s. For that matter, at times, he would play his
favourite Cole Porter or Rodgers and Hammerstein numbers. One gathers
that he now spends more hours on the keyboard, perhaps to make up for all
that time when he could barely devote himself to music. Just the right dose
for soothing the nerves! Russi can play a tune or two on mouth organ too.
And his taste is pretty eclectic. Though he doesn’t like ballet, he loves
Arturo Toscanini, Leonard Bernstein and Herbert von Karajan. And he can’t
resist operatic arias, and is equally intrigued by Ustad Bismillah Khan’s
shehnai and the sound of the ghatam. Quite fond of jazz, and Dizzy
Gillespic, Duke Ellington, ‘Fats’ Waller, Dave Brubeck, in particular, but
rock too tops the chart. He’s been rocking, anyway.
Step into Russi’s household, and you begin to wonder how terrific and
wide a man’s range of interests could be. Follow him to his spacious study
and you would gasp at the astounding collection of tomes of this
bibliophile, who once upon a time detested the very thought of reading
books as a student at Oxford. Volumes and volumes on management,
literature, history, biographies, historical novels and thrillers by Jeffrey
Archer, Robert Ludlum and Sidney Sheldon vie with numerous titles on
Napoleon Bonaparte. Browsing through the printed words of a text is
perhaps easier than facing real-life challenges. Most people choose to learn
from their books; only a few dare to learn from life. This man belongs to
those handful. Now a voracious reader, but he insists, “I have never gone
out to seek knowledge.”
The walls are dotted with vignettes of Russi at different times and
places in many moods: Russi, the toddler; Russi, the Harrovian; Russi at
Oxford; Russi with JRD Tata; Russi being conferred the Padma Bhushan,
Russi, the speaker, Russi with the international glitterati… And scores and
scores of plaques, mementos, and citations bear testimony to his rare
achievements and due salutations by the world at large.
You tread softly lest you impinge on the all-pervading tranquillity. Even
a whisper would sound amiss here. You let your eyes feast on his collection
of paintings, porcelain and crystals. It seems the aficionado in Russi has
handpicked the best of art and artefacts to showcase them. Canvases depict
historical events or reflect pure nostalgia or passion for beauty. There is this
famous portrait of the voyage to St Helena. He looks wistful and shows you
another study in oil. The walls, all of them, are filled with paintings – from
priceless miniatures to contemporary art. He is an avid buyer of all things
beautiful. Having been an extensive traveller, it’s an assortment of the
choicest from the farthest nooks of the world. While some of his artefacts
might take us to a land beyond the seven seas, there are others that whisper
tales, like those plates near the entrance, which were gifted to a young Russi
by Sir Jamshedji Jijibhoy, the first indigenous business baron. The framed
masterpieces that deck up the wall beside the stairs leading to Russi’s
private den have a rather amusing story to tell. Once, while still at Oxford,
the nineteen-year-old lad happened to buy a folio of Egyptian prints of early
nineteenth century at a London book store. It was much later that he
rediscovered them amidst his old collection and decided to get them
framed: “These pictures depicting an Egyptian way of living are as old as
1801. I bought these from a bookshop in London for just three guineas in
1937, and then completely forgot about it. One day while looking through
my collections, I decided to frame them. It was 1972, and ever since they
have been chased by the Sotheby’s.”
Not the one to evaluate an artefact either by its antiquity or price, ‘sheer
elegance’ is what entices Russi. “Good taste is like the leadership quality.
Either you have it or you don’t”, he comments, as one compliments the
interiors of his residence. Pieces worth five bucks are in harmony with
some of the very precious lot, like the crystal chandeliers set in perfect
ambience, that reflect the refined tastes of this aesthete. “This is my blue-
and-white room”, he announces walking into his ground floor 1000 sq-ft
drawing room, overlooking the well-manicured lawn. From the smallest
plate on the wall to four-feet tall vases and lamp stands, everything here is
in blue and white porcelain. “I’ve bought these mostly in Japan and China”,
he informs. The four alcoves on four sides of the room hold sculptures in
coloured crystal. “These are limited edition pieces which I brought from
abroad”, he tells you. Three Akbari paintings on ivory and some Rajasthani
miniatures adorn the walls of this room. An heirloom silver stave lies along-
side a few crystal masterpieces on the centre table. “This is my favourite
piece”, Russi points out the large crystal sail of a ship.
He has a peculiar fixation for crystals with some of the most delicate
pieces in this array on display. Among this lot are the icons of Lord
Ganesha; he has almost two hundred Ganesha, in almost every possible
form. Russi snickers, as he admits how closely he relates to this pot-bellied,
happy-go-lucky deity. And the assembly of gleaming glass animals makes
one wonder if these inanimate objects have been breeding in Russi’s
captivity. The camels, kingfishers, fish and rooster seem to represent a
miniature animal kingdom. “I collected those from various stores in various
cities”, he says, drawing attention to a pair of bulls poised to fight each
other. His delight shows as he surveys his own selection. And this bevy of
glass sculptures of animals happens to be his latest passion. “All this
happened during my travels over fifty years. No interior decorator can do
this.”
The one who harboured this latent desire to be a painter or an artist of
some dimension, but couldn’t “for I didn’t have the talent”, he took to
designing interiors of both his home and offices. And you can see diverse
titles on display: Dining Area,Kitchens,Window Treatments, et al. “All
these rooms mirror my feel for things, every square inch of it”, acquiesces
Russi. “I love to decorate interiors. If I saw something appealing, I bought
it, and used everything, even running the risk of breakages in the hands of
servants.”
A hardcore industrialist, he doesn’t see any incongruity in his incessant
fascination for the arts. He anticipates the query and responds even before
it’s posed: “As one who has spent a lifetime in industry, I have come to the
conclusion that art and industry are not too far apart and the way my friend
MF Husain depicts a workshop or a chimney, surely makes a factory a piece
of art. Above all, the commonality between art and industry is man.
Industry is what man makes of it, and a painter or a sculptor, in whatever he
does, is either depicting man or his environment in one form or another.”
His intuitive predilection for the fine arts strengthened his bond with
Calcutta which in his perception is “the nucleus of culture”. He’s besotted
with the city’s cultural heritage, the aesthetics of its residents, and he’s also
been the President of the Academy of Fine Arts: “What impresses me is that
the city dwellers are so knowledgeable about art, so art thrives here. For, the
people of Calcutta have not yet become slaves of the pursuit of money.
Other values have predominated; I would never live in any other city in
India.”
 
 
THE PASSAGE OF SIXTY-NINE YEARS is history, indeed! That is when
a blithe and carefree Parsi youngster reached Calcutta on an induction
course, as a trainee apprentice of Tisco to get practical, hands-on
experience, supplying steel for huge projects. Russi was assigned the
onerous task to supervise this supply for construction of Howrah Bridge. He
couldn’t have asked for more, as it meant a prolonged stay, and he could
blend business with pleasure, exploring the city. As the construction work
progressed, so did Calcutta pave its way to Russi’s heart. The city that
intrigued him at the prime of his youth continues to captivate him at ninety.
Those days, he shared a cosy nook with a friend, Jamshed Lam, at 5
Queens Park, Ballygunge, his very first address in Calcutta. Often would
the duo visit Manek Powvala, a colleague who stayed upstairs in the same
apartment. These three musketeers were always up to some wacky tricks.
Russi seems to be caught in time warp, reliving the pleasurable times. And
Khusroo Powvala, Manek’s daughter, lent a glimpse of those fun-filled
days, as she recollected how as a little girl she would often ask uncle Russi
to roll up and down the carpeted drawing room along with her. And uncle
was too sweet to ever let her down. They would stop only when she was
exhausted. An exuberant Russi must also have been drained at the end of
the rolling session, but he never showed it. “It just goes on to show what a
wonderful person uncle is, and what a wonderful way he has connecting
with people, irrespective of age or status”, gushed Powvala.
Going about the city on an adventurous spree, it didn’t take a curious
Russi long to discover all the haunts for his evening jaunts – hotels, pubs,
clubs – a habit that he must have acquired during his student days in
Britain. At every joint, this roly-poly young man would make his presence
felt, either showing his card-tricks, or playing piano; elsewhere elbowing
through opponents on the rugby field, whacking the cherry over boundary
on the cricket field, making acquaintances and friends, and having them all
in splits with his impish jokes. Before long, he was a much sought-after
socialite of the city who could rev up any gathering. And the one-time
stranger was warmly accepted in this hospitable city with its arms flung
open. Touched by its vibrancy and youthful vigour, Russi became an
“incorrigible Calcuttan”.
The city, still under British control had the same flavour of England that
he had been through. An evening stroll along the Park Street perhaps
reminded him of those busy thoroughfares lined with departmental stores
humming with regulars in London, or the aroma of fresh-baked loaves at
Flury’s would invoke nostalgia for those moments at the counter of Bread
Shop at lovely Chiswick; or Maggie Jones restaurant on 6, Old Course
Place, off Kensington Place, would waltz in his memory, as he relished
oyster soup at Firpos. It would exude the same appetising flavour at the
lunch room of Great Eastern Hotel that would embrace the foodie in Russi
when served with a plateful of Melton Mowbray pie at Ritz or Savoy in
London. While Oxford stood for hedonism in the forties, Jamshedpur had
its own bucolic simplicity. Two places set apart not only by distance but
also by chutzpah, Calcutta offered this young man the ‘zing’ he must have
been looking for. So, from toasting a sun downer at clubs to pursuing golf at
a country club, everything bore the imprint of an English lifestyle. Not only
those joints that he frequented, even the names of many a lane in Calcutta
could make up for the difference between these two cities across the seas.
From Theatre Road (later Shakespeare Sarani) to Harrison Road (later as
Mahatma Gandhi Road) Calcutta continued to pay tribute to its British heri-
tage. Russi would visit the city of joy time and again, on some assignment
or the other. It seemed to be the closest substitute to London and he could
revive special moments of those formative years he had spent at the
gateway of Europe.
A regular at the South Club, Russi holds membership of almost every
prestigious club in the city. In fact, he was the third Indian, after the
Maharajas of Cooch Behar and Burdwan to become a member of Bengal
Club, where he gorged on Bengali food during his luncheons. And he turns
back the clock, recalling those Christmas parties, which would be held
exclusively for the members in chilly December evenings. Yearning for
yesteryears, he says, “Give me back Christmas in Calcutta in the forties.
Those were the war years, but in spite of the turmoil Calcutta was the ‘Fun
Capital’ of India. Lahore came a good second, but Delhi and Bombay were
dull affairs. Calcutta suddenly livened up during Christmas. The Viceroy
used to spend three weeks in the city along with his Court. The Government
of India too moved to the city. We were all caught in the whirl of parties,
races, and polo matches.”
Jiving to the rhythm of jazz or tapping to the tune of tango was one of
Russi’s favourite weekend pastimes. Russi reminisces those New Year Eves
spent at Firpos or at Golden Slipper,along with friends, dancing away until
the night would melt into dawn. “Firpos used to be a great institution of
India, and the glittering crowd would really have a ball. Calcutta has
suffered many a change. Gone are the good old days”, he complains.
“Everything is over the top these days, and the changes are for the worse,
though I like the sartorial revolution”. But this agile and nifty ninety refuses
to grudge too much about the past, for he would rather live in the present.
He still finds it to be “one of the most happening cities that I’ve ever seen”.
So, if on a weekend night, you meet Russi shaking a leg at a city disc, don’t
squeal with surprise.
And when it comes to his immaculate self, a dapper Russi doesn’t
essentially brandish the designer labels. “You will never find me patronising
Calvin Klein and Giorgio Armani (though when it comes to colognes and
after shaves, he would make a leap for Klein or Yves St Lauren stock).
Anything that looks good and appeals to me could find a place in my
wardrobe.” But given his size, picking up something off the rack is slightly
difficult, “So, most of my clothes are tailored, and mind you by the local
darzi,who does a good job with both my Indian as well as Western clothes.”
He continued to do his own shopping, whether it was a trip to New Market
in Calcutta to buy his kurta pyjamas or at Burlington’s in London to don a
grey top hat, morning coat and striped trousers, on being invited to Ascot
where he spent time with the Duke of Edinburgh in the Royal Box. But one
outfit to which Russi shows great aversion is none other than ‘dhoti’, as he
says, “Like Ataturk who banned the fez (national head dress of men) in
Turkey, I’d ban the dhoti. This unstitched piece of garment stands for all
that is sloppy and uncivilised in our society.” Blasphemous words in a state
inhabited by Bongs? “I abhor it just as I abhor arranged marriages and
dowry.” Take it or leave it. Russi would speak his mind.
This collector also loves to hoard watches and alternate them with
different outfits. But here too is a rider: “Frankly speaking, whether it’s Rs
50 or Rs 50,000 worth quartz, they all give perfect time!” Obviously, a
delightful statement a day has kept the doctor away. And Russi’s longevity
and fighting fit at ninety has borne out that “wit and good humour go a long
way in preserving your sanity”. He rates this trait as his greatest asset: “I
think it is my capacity to laugh through everything, for I see something
funny in almost every human situation. When I took a decision as to the
manner in which I was to lead my life, it was like this: whatever I did, in
memory of my mother and my father and for the education they gave me, I
would lead an honourable life, in every sense. I mean basically I would not
do dishonourable things. Secondly, I would work reasonably hard. And
thirdly, having satisfied those two parameters, I would seek luxury, fun,
amusement and enjoyment in every form of life.”
 Since he loves the smiling faces of people, “I want people to laugh.
With me, laughter is a way of life. So, if I wanted to give a humorous turn
to any given situation, I never failed.” Once a friend of his was taking
Homoeopathy treatment, and came this advice from Russi, “Don’t you go
for Homoeopathy, you wouldn’t get any sympathy. Get going to a good
surgeon.” On another occasion, aboard a flight from Bombay to Calcutta, a
smart alec wanted to show off his proximity to the chairman of Indian
Airlines and Air India, and asked Russi, “So, Mr Mody, you are going to
Calcutta?” And his reply made this bloke go blanch: “Why only me, all
passengers are.” But then he didn’t work at it: “What came naturally to me
was considered witty by many people.”
Afriend, SP Sarathy, who knew Russi over four decades, once jovially
described his multifaceted inconsistencies, saying that since he conformed
to no pattern, he could slip on a new persona each day of the week – from
being a corporate leader, mischief-maker, an aristocrat, labour leader, a
friend of the poorest to hobnobbing with royalty, and indulging in the most
childish pleasures. That should explain the polarities in Russi’s
temperament, that while life is serious it could also be as much fun. Those
who dodged the flying missiles of this tough taskmaster in the office, by
way of ink bottles, blotters and files, that were hurled if they did not own up
to their mistakes or tried to bluff, would find themselves later at his table
for a scrumptious dinner.
“Wit”, he says, “is very, very important, for it makes one admire a
person’s delight. It doesn’t necessarily mean telling funny stories. It means
a way of life in which you extract that we all live with our frailties. We all
have flaws, and nobody is perfect. Life is never perfect. So, wit should be a
way of life. It enables you to accept that imperfection with a good guffaw,
and also engineer the ability to poke fun at yourself.” Once a courier came
to deliver a packet at Russi’s residence, and his servant told this fellow not
to be scared of the dogs, as they won’t bite. He asked his servant, “The
delivery boy has understood, but have the dogs understood?”
Russi never gave up playing pranks right since his school days. A friend
of his was visiting Jamshedpur and was to return to Calcutta on his way to
Bombay. Russi offered to fly him to Calcutta in his plane, but landed him at
one of the Tata mines at Jamadoba. But Russi’s roguish laughter evaporated
all his anger, and the friend chose to make the most of his stay walking
through the mines for miles, before they got back for the legendary
breakfast of the monumental omelette, with crisp bacon, and much more.
Fairly known for his declamatory diligence, in one of the lectures at a
management institute, Russi started on this note: “It is a tradition in the
House of Lords that no one listens to a speech. Should you feel similarly
inclined and wish to doze off for a few minutes, I should not complain,
provided the decibel count from your snoring is kept a level low enough
and does not interrupt my flow of thought…” But one such hilarious
situation was too close to the bone, as Russi was driving fast in a lane
heading towards the Bombay House. The traffic cop blew the whistle to
stop him and gave a verbal rap with a derisive remark: “Yeh kya tumhare
baap ki sadak hai? (Does this road belong to your father?)”. Indeed it was.
He pointed towards the landmark that read, ‘Sir Homi Mody Street’. No
wonder, Russi admires Charlie Chaplin’s genius, “He combined
entertainment with a message.” And needless to say, Laurel and Hardy
series have catered to his comic streak.
 
 
THE ONE WHO JUST ACCEPTED LIFE the way it happened, Russi
followed his instincts, and didn’t need to offer explanations for his likes and
dislikes. As decades went by, Calcutta transformed into Kolkata, and
underwent enormous changes – both constructive and destructive – political
pollution, awful traffic jams, ill-maintained sanitation system, grimacing
garbage vats, terrible state of medical care, tacky tar macadam, ramshackle
roadway transports, and so on. But Russi never sneered at the deplorable
sight of the city; nothing could make him turn his face away, even in utter
dismay. Russi and Calcutta became inseparable. He coped up with the city’s
idiosyncrasies, “for, Calcutta offers me the optimism to wait for a better
tomorrow. It gives me life…a zeal for life in my twilight years. And despite
sluggish traffic, pot-holed roads, air pollution, poverty, when I return home
everyday after certain hours of work, even at this age, I don’t feel tired. To
me, the city is always growing”.
He realised that this city unlike other metropolis emits more gleam than
gloom. Calcutta remained his permanent address, though he could afford to
live in any other part of the world, given the network of his influential
friends. Born in Bombay, he never considered returning to the large family
bungalow on Carmichael Road, as “Bombay never seemed to me so
pulsating as Calcutta.” Apparently, it was the emotional connect with the
green sheen of the latter that scored over the shores of Arabian Sea. It is the
‘camaraderie’ of Calcutta that had won him over, and he finds the
quintessential Bengali “still as emotional, highly excitable, warm and
friendly”. Above it all, he shares their sense of fun: “Whatever be the
occasion, they have a tendency to drop whatever they are doing just for a
spot of fun.” And he loves the “feverish pitch” the city is seized with during
autumn festival of Durga Puja, with this mania for celebration. On many an
occasion, he would visit the pandals and soak in the warmth of the festivity,
as the city glittered with lights and the sound crossed the decibel level. But
Russi interprets the whole affair and related cacophony as a process to
release tension: “Even a few people may find it as a hidden motive of
staying away from work; I think they are more considerate than others in
any other part of India. I wouldn’t dream of denying people the one
pleasure amidst so many miseries they have.”
Russi has a storehouse of such pleasant memories, when he interacted
with the Calcuttans: “My experience has been that they are very responsive
to proper leadership.” In 1960, as the President of the Indian Chamber of
Commerce, he received a proposal mooted by its members that Calcutta
should have underground railway service. But no sooner the idea was
pitched that it was strongly opposed by many on the ground that it would
turn the city into a cesspool during the monsoons, as far as the condition of
the roads was concerned. Russi was not the one to give up, and he kept
egging on the people to raise their voice for this transport system for regular
commuters. Eventually, Metro Rail came into being that Russi considered
to be “a shining example of what can be achieved if common people are
properly explained about its merit and the help of the masses is sought”.
And his definition of elegance stretched far beyond his own posh
parlour. As meticulous about cleanliness of the city as his home décor,
Russi was always keen to contribute his bit for the better lot of the city. The
aesthete in Russi had certain plans and he executed quite a few given his
drive and initiative. From suggesting subways for smooth flow of traffic to
decking landmarks, his imaginative moves are still talk of the town, as they
bear the testimony of his enormous effort. It was in 1987, one evening,
while brooding and looking out the window of his office on the sixteenth
floor of Tata Centre, that the Victoria Memorial in subdued neon light
caught his attention as a heritage monument, which seemed to be losing its
splendour due to negligence. Lord Curzon loved the grandeur of the Raj,
and Victoria Memorial illustrated his Empire-worship. Suddenly, it struck
Russi that this magnificent edifice would have splendid effect, if colourful
beams of light could be focused on the monument. For a man of action, like
him, any worthy thought ought to see the light of day, with no room for
procrastination. And Jyoti Basu, the Marxist Chief Minister, also shared
Russi’s fervour to illuminate the Victoria Memorial. Voila! Tisco strode
ahead and sponsored the project in technical collaboration with Philips
India. And within a year the historic monument of the city was spruced up,
bathing in colourful laser beams, making the Calcuttans as proud. Tisco and
its ally Philips India slipped into history as the event got inaugurated by
Prof Nural Hasan, the Governor of West Bengal, in January of 1988.
It was in 1995 that some socially conscious citizens assembled at a
meeting convened by Bengal Initiative, with the agenda of invoking a better
civic sense among the city dwellers. Naturally, Russi Mody’s presence and
involvement on the issue was imperative. In this ‘Face to Face’ gathering,
Russi was simply emphatic about the ‘importance of self-respect’.
“Considering the influence of globalisation on our economic and social
scenario, every individual should enjoy maximum freedom to enhance his
or her individuality and only then we can enjoy the maximum benefit of
globalisation”, he stated in his one-off style. “Why can’t common people
expect pure drinking water after so many years of independence? Who is
responsible for that?” He fired the question at those present there. Not only
did he ask, he exhorted others to explore the solutions, and advised the
committee of Bengal Initiative to encourage residents of the respective
areas of the city to take the onus of removing the junks piled up day after
day in their locality.
And what continues to attract him is the ‘paradox’ that is so
symptomatic of the city. “Nowadays it is the people of Calcutta who make
it what it is. Neither its monuments nor anything else matters any longer.
Their enthusiasm draws me more than anything else – the way the Bengali
does everything in extremes. The streets of Calcutta are filthy yet it boasts
the most hygienic Metro. That is the paradox that attracts me.” A man of
impeccable courtesy, Russi rues at his inability to speak Bangla. “All I can
say is Ami Bangla bujhi na (I don’t follow Bangla)”, but he can tell the
people of Calcutta how much he loves them, as gently in Bangla, “Ami
tomake bhalo baashi” as in French, “Je t’aime beaucoup”.
Though he’s appalled at the way trees are “mercilessly hacked”, or that
“Chowringhee is but a pale shadow of its former glory”, he still believes
Calcutta could evolve into the most beautiful city in India. And anxiety
rings in his voice having been a first-hand witness to the rapid changes.
“The way we are treating the city makes me a worried soul. Corporate
involvement is fine, but it can only supplement the efforts of the
government. Greening the city should be a mission in which all top leaders
need to participate. And its economic resurgence should be reflected in the
city’s well-being. In fact, we have proved all along that the citizens can do
so much more that the government cannot. The lush verdure of the Maidan,
the Gothic buildings, all these make me happy, but Calcutta is also the
doorway to the natural wealth of eastern India. As an entrepreneur, I feel
this city is still far from getting organised. It requires a lot of effort to help it
emerge as a place that can allure investment. Business cannot thrive in a
vacuum. For a true business environment, we need faster traffic, better
infrastructure, and a smoother administration. From a mere trading centre
more than three hundred years ago, the city has grown into a thriving
metropolis. It has grown into a universal city, a sprawling city…”
So Calcutta was not merely a city of “leisure and pleasure” for Russi, it
inspired him to help it grow. The party animal was so deeply influenced by
Mother Teresa’s selfless mission to serve humanity at large that he got
closely involved with many such activities. “I appreciated her drive for the
mankind”, he would say and dress up as Santa Claus during Christmas,
thrill the street urchins, or those battling against some fatal disease would
discover a great friend in him. For that matter, all along he has displayed the
same generous spirit, as Mother Teresa had stated: “To keep a lamp
burning, we have to keep putting oil in it.” The needy would never return
empty-handed from Russi’s doorstep: “You may not believe me if I am
truthful, but nevertheless I shall be honest. I have so much faith in God, that
I consider I am merely an instrument of His will. And whatever good or bad
I do, I ascribe to His wishes,” he says humbly.
 Not the one to preach austerity, he sees no contradiction between his
own lifestyle and his love for the less fortunate. His reasoning can make
you mull it over: “Certainly, I am no believer in austerity. Those who
preach it don’t know how to practise it. I don’t think I’d help a single poor
person in this country if I were to suddenly start saying that I would live the
same life as he’s living. I don’t think anyone gets helped like that. On the
contrary, if I could help somebody a peg or two up, rather than myself
down, I would prefer that. I think that’s the right thing to do, it’s better to
pull people up than to pull them down. In a developing nation like India,
striving to become rich, and then sharing its riches with all and not keeping
it to a certain select group, there are bound to be tensions between those
who work and those who get work done. But this need not be so. And, as
far as I am concerned, I have proved it.”
While Mother Teresa embodied simplicity, modesty, and her pursuit to
seek God amongst ordinary human beings, Russi also admired the likes of
Sarojini Naidu for her outspokenness, and her daughter Padmaja, who
seemed to him “a very intelligent person with an intellectual insight”.
Padmaja Naidu, once a Governor of West Bengal, was known to share with
Russi his fondness for the best of liquors. An avid spokesperson for
women’s emancipation and empowerment, an ideal woman to Russi would
be the one who conducted herself with grace and authority at every instance
of her life. And Vijayalakshmi Pandit, in his view, was a dignified lady,
who “upheld the country’s image at international forums”. So did Margaret
Thatcher meet his approval as one amongst the best breed of politicians. In
the glamour quotient, his favourite talented figures are Greta Garbo, Bette
Davis and Sophia Loren. “That’s my very own galaxy of stars”, he states,
but doesn’t relate much to the actresses of today. “If say, Madonna were to
pass me by on the road, I would not even notice her.” s
“Age is only a statistic.”
A great patron of art and artists: with MF Husain

 
With Mother Teresa: “I appreciated her drive for the mankind.”
This Santa Claus’generosity is for real
  

Showering affection on children: “I do miss out on not having my own.”

  
BUT ONE PASSION THAT OVERRIDES many other considerations for
Russi is food. This gourmet would give any chef a run for his culinary
skills. Just outside his kitchen the book-lined shelf displays assorted titles
on varied cuisines and desserts: Indian Cuisine,Achar aur Parantha,Series
on Mexican Cookery,Essential French Cookery,Best Of Japan,Best of
Ireland,Best of Greece,Divine Desserts,Casseroles & Stews,Pastry
Classics,The World Encyclopaedia of Cheese,Food Lover’s Guide to
Paris,Eat,Taste,Heal,etc, etc…
And the much-fabled dinners that Russi is known to have hosted were
never short of a lavish spread of smoked salmon and caviar, and as many as
twenty-five flavours of ice cream on offer, and he would personally oversee
every minute detail. Russi and General Sir Bernard Montgomery of Britain
(who defeated Commander Erwin Rommel of Germany in World War II),
had a chef in common. It was Barua, better known as Mama, who had
served the General for about a month and now he was Russi’s main cook.
Given his past record, Mama was to prepare some rare delicacies, when
Russi hosted a dinner at his residence in the honour of Duke of Edinburgh
during his visit to Calcutta. Russi’s selection of the right person for the right
job again proved flawless. As the roasted Turkey melted in the mouth of
Royal Highness, he relished its flavour so much that as Mama entered the
dining room, he received standing ovation from Prince Philip with these
words, “I have never tasted such a fine preparation of Turkey in my life so
far.”
Be it music or steel, culinary or corporate strategies, here’s a man of
multiple hues. If it makes you wonder what keeps this man going, it must
have been his sixteen-egg omelette, a massive muddle of eggs smothered
with green chillies, onions and tomatoes, for his breakfast every morning
that did the trick. “Not any more”, refutes Russi. “Once a week, I may have
a three-egg or six-egg omelettes, and this can go up to ten on weekends.”
But he concedes that he would not have been half as active, as he is, had he
not taken those massive omelettes: “The energy I seem to get stems from all
those eggs I gobbled. Of course, there was bread, jam, butter, too. I had a
huge appetite some thirty years ago. I was almost a glutton. I love all kinds
of food – Indian, Continental, Chinese, Mexican – in fact, anything. Yet, I
had no cholesterol or sugar problems.”
He loves to be in the kitchen as well and stir the ingredients, as he’s
more than accustomed to the heat of the ovens. Cooking has been one of
Russi’s obsessions. His tours to distant lands exposed him to the best of
delicacies the master chefs had to offer. And he picked up these recipes
from around the globe and over the years kept at it to cook them to
perfection. At an age that some would term as ‘second childhood’, and
become ultra conscious of being fit-fetish, Russi scorns at the calorie-
checkers, as he thinks they must visit a shrink: “I don’t know why people
should make such a fuss about diet food and calorie content. I believe
people who are all the time bothering about what not to eat should see a
psychiatrist.” More recently, Russi had a stomach problem and he got
admitted at Woodlands, a local clinic. But he couldn’t take instructions for a
strict regulated diet and came back home the next day. As the papers
speculated about his health bulletin, Russi rumbled to his friends: “The
whole of Calcutta was rocking on this news.”
He confesses all the same, “Let me admit, much as I hate to, that if there
has been any slight change in my lifestyle as I’ve grown older, it is that I eat
a little less, but without any outward show that it is so, much to my regret.”
That should remind Russi of what JRD had said once: “…I think he
believes that he’s more of a gourmet than a gourmand. Russi seems to have
forgotten that being a gourmet does not show but being a gourmand
does…” No longer is he able to indulge his craving for caviar, oysters, and
the really hot Goan fish curry with rice rings, so he’s learnt to be a wee bit
comfortable with boiled fish, vegetables, eggs and fruit. Nor can he devour
his desserts with the same intensity: “Now I don’t have any taste, so I eat
ice cream because it’s cool, and I feel the coolness.” But no way does that
deter him from throwing those bashes at home.
And Russi is generous enough to share some of the recipes he’s
enamoured of:
 
KING-SIZED PORA
16 eggs
8 onions (finely chopped)
4 green chillies (finely chopped)
150 grams coriander (finely chopped)
3 medium-sized tomatoes (finely chopped)
5-6 pods of garlic (finely chopped)
1/2 tbsp turmeric
Salt to taste
Mix all the ingredients in a big bowl. Do not whisk. Heat 100 gm
butter in a big frying pan and spread the mix into it. When it is
almost set, put it to grill for ten minutes. Set the omelette in a dish
and serve with crisp toast.
AKOURI
In a non-stick pan, melt 25 gm of butter over medium heat. Add two
large onions, very finely chopped, and two to three green chillies.
Fry slowly. Meanwhile, in a deep-bottomed saucepan, beat six eggs,
add three ripe tomatoes, finely chopped, and a bunch of chopped
coriander leaves. Beat the lot together till it becomes very smooth.
 Add seasoning and allow it to stand. Return to the frying onions;
when these turn golden brown, add half a teaspoon of turmeric
powder, stir in for a few seconds. Take pan off the heat and keep
aside. Put the saucepan with the beaten eggs on the fire; pour the
onion-chilli mix into the egg mixture. Stir constantly. When a little
thick, pour into a serving bowl and serve with a dash of lemon juice.
MUTTON KORMA
Cut one kg of mutton into medium chunks, wash well, and wipe dry.
Marinate the pieces in a mixture made from 200 gram yoghurt, a
teaspoon of turmeric powder, one teaspoon of red chilly powder,
half a cup of onion paste and a teaspoon of ginger and garlic paste.
Cover the mutton chunks well with this mixture and allow to stand
overnight. Then in deep-bottomed pan heat ghee, add half a
teaspoon of whole garam masala (a blend of different spices), two
bay leaves and two chopped onions and fry till golden brown. Pour
in the marinated mutton chunks and allow to cook till almost dry.
Add half a teaspoon of nutmeg powder and four to five black pepper
corns, stirring from time to time. Adjust seasoning and add a
teaspoon of sugar. When all the masala turns dry, add water to
ensure mutton is cooked till tender. Cover and allow to simmer till
done.
Did he inherit his cooking skills too from his mother? “No, my mother
never entered the kitchen and once when we teased her a great deal, she did
cook an Irish stew, and we all landed up with stomach ache”, reveals Russi
with that cheeesy grin. Being fairly adept at the culinary art, he rates cuisine
in three grades – Chinese, Indian and French: “That is not to say that there
are dishes which I don’t enjoy, but overall I like the Indian food best. The
French food comes second and the Chinese third. But I don’t use
chopsticks? No Indian is born to use chopsticks. I like to be natural and take
big morsels. I certainly can’t do that with chopsticks.” And it was reported
that when Russi was not making pickles for himself, he was busy rustling
up a wholesome meal for the Union Finance Minister. Which one was he?
Keep guessing!
Russi’s buddy Naresh Kumar once wrote about those savoury times, “…
I can never forget the first time we had breakfast at Jamadoba where some
of the Tisco collieries are located. There were only two of us. The bearer
brought in sixteen eggs, sunny side up, sausages, bacon, tomatoes and
basketful of toast. One egg was normally my limit, but I made a splash and
took two that morning. I watched in amazement as Russi, with one mighty
swipe, swept the remaining fourteen eggs, along with all the trappings on
his plate. I have often recounted this amusing story with his other eating
exploits, such as tucking away one hundred and twenty puchkas at one
sitting. Today, I realise that it had a deeper meaning and perhaps gave an
insight into a basic trait of his character. Russi has always boldly gone
forward and embraced life.”
 Gourmet vs the gourmand
Illustration: Courtesy Russi Mody
So did the former Managing Director of Bokaro Steel Plant, Mantosh
Sondhi, make this observation: “Russi is a manager par excellence, but not
because he follows the tenets laid down in some management manual. He is
too individualistic, too spontaneous to be curbed, somewhere still a child –
gobbling artlessly the platter full of chicken sandwiches, which seem to
follow him as relentlessly as he follows his community of workers, his
officers, his team-mates to the factory, to the schools, to the hospitals, to the
sports field and to their homes. He is everywhere in Jamshedpur – all over.
Also in his aristocratic bungalow, his volatile personality, once again,
regulates the rhythm. His dining table is as expansive as his own self.”
In the ’80s, Russi came to the rescue of Nicco Steel, a small, ailing
Company in Calcutta that bought billets from Tisco for conversion. He
assured its Chairman Rajiv Kaul that he would bail him out of this cash-
strap. And he organised a function to celebrate the tie-up with Nicco, where
the Industry Minister of West Bengal KL Bhattacharya also marked his
presence. It was a formal lunch and Russi had a mountain of food on his
plate, while the minister had just a small serving of salad. Russi asked him
curiously, “Kanai, what happened, why you aren’t eating?” The minister
stated he had a slight health problem and the doctor had advised him to go
easy on food. Russi came up with his own prescription saying, “A doctor
has nothing to do with what the ministers and top managers should
consume in terms of calories,” and filled up his plate. The minister couldn’t
attend the office for a week.
And Russi is as cultivated and exclusive when it comes to the finest of
wines and liqueurs. His keen interest shows and how! All you have to do is
to rummage through his personal bar. He had his first swig while still a lad
of twelve and he gave in to the temptation. While at Oxford, drinking wine
was almost a daily ritual, and almost every meal would be rounded off with
a glass of champagne. And it is the glowing red wine over the placid white
that wooed him instantly, and he brought back his taste for wine to India as
his English sojourn came to an end. He loves to serve wine and often would
set out on a hunt for the choicest of the French wines – Chianti Classico and
Bordeaux Red. Age doesn’t permit Russi to drink much, but his personal
cellar could well be the neighbour’s envy, with Veuve Clicquot Ponsardin,
Marquise de Pompadour, Villa Doltica, Deinhard 1998, Golden October
1981, Casal Garcia 1959-60, Créme de Cassis de Dijou, and Indian labels,
like Grover’s La Reserva, Chantilli Grand Vintage and Sula Seco Methode.
And the personal favourite of the grand old man happens to be “a glass of
Mouton Cadet or Mouton Rothschild with dinner and any good scotch.” But
how some of his friends manage to relish their toast with rice and curry still
remains a mystery to him, for he thinks, “Indian food is too spicy to go with
wine.” As wine matures with time, the older the better, the dictum couldn’t
hold truer for him. Time may have turned Russi ‘vintage’, but it has failed
to renounce his romance with life.
 
 
THE ROMANTIC RUSSI HAS HAD a bevy of lady friends, but he always
felt “it would have served my vanity better had I been slimmer and taller”.
No sweat! So was the Corsican Napoleon short and rotund. Russi swept off
his cousin Silloo with his inexorable charm, the one he took to the altar. He
was twenty-six and she was eighteen. Since his mother did not approve of
any of his liaisons, she projected her niece Silloo. “She’s an extraordinarily
good-looking woman, vivacious, and full of fun and mischief. But it was
not an arranged marriage. It goes against my grain”, Russi is quick to add.
“We both went out quite often before getting married. We were quite similar
in our temperament.” They tied the knot in 1944 and parted ways fourteen
years later. What went wrong? Russi ruminates with a sense of regret:
“Now I see that I made the mistake of pursuing my career too vigorously. I
was too keen to make a success in life. She felt a little left out maybe, and
another person took advantage of the situation. When it all happened, I was
too engrossed with my work. But I still have very fond memories of her.”
What really amazed the social circuit was that they remained the best of
friends! “Yes, even my divorce was very friendly, and there was no
acrimony, no nothing. We had shared a beautiful relationship over those
years and led a very fulfilling life”, discloses Russi. He faltered, unable to
pick a leaf from Sir Homi’s life, when it came to matters personal and
intimate. “My father, when asked about his long and happy married life,
used to say: ‘I always let my wife go her own way and I would follow.’
Unfortunately, that has not been true for me. I allowed the work pressure to
wreck my marriage.” But here was a couple that still turned up at a party
together on the day they had divorced, as Russi relates the incident: “Since I
was quite well-known in Jamshedpur at that time, our divorce was high on
the grapevine agenda. It so happened that Naval Tata, Ratan’s father, was
hosting a cocktail at his place that night. So, I asked Silloo if she would still
accompany me. She agreed, and we went together. The moment we turned
up, I still remember the look on Naval’s face, and the deadly silence, as it
registered on the gathering that we were still together.”
Subsequently, they spent many a vacation together, and Russi would
meet her during his every visit to Bombay. Does he miss having a woman in
his life? “Yes, certainly”, he admits unabashedly. What about all those lady
friends? “Ah, too many! But nobody special! The freedom that I enjoyed
after marriage was sufficient reason not to get married again”, is the surface
answer. Perhaps, it was Silloo who remained in the deeper recesses of his
mind. Once Russi had confided to a friend, “My life was so absorbed in my
family; it revolved so completely around my mother and father that after
they died, I have not developed any relationship of that intensity.”
Russi’s adopted son Aditya Kashyap was afflicted with cancer and
passed away in March of 2006, and he internalised the grief. In a way, it
also heightened his awareness of not having children of his own: “I miss the
fact that my marriage wasn’t very successful, and that I didn’t have any
children whom I could love, but then that’s part of life. Some things you
get, some things you don’t.” And that probably speaks for his magnanimity
as he never stopped ‘giving’, like a benign patriarch? “It all depends on
what you want out of life, whether you want a good family, homely life, or
you want to be somebody in the world, a success in your profession. It is all
very subjective and depends upon the individuals. But my parents were a
wonderful example of how you could combine success with personal
happiness.”
 
 
RUSSI TRIES TO FILL UP THIS EMOTIONAL vacuum, following his
karmic link with Jamshedpur. The destination that destiny had chalked out
for him, still continues to beckon him. It was September 15 of 2007. At
about 4 pm, an Air Deccan flight touches the Sonari airport. Russi alights
from the plane and no sooner he reaches the last step of the ladder in his
jazzy T-shirt and blue trousers that some people drone, “There he is! Is he
going to stay here for long? I think he will be here for a couple of days, he
has to visit his mother’s grave. Look! He still retains his hearty smile. Oh
my God! He still prefers bright colours. He’ll never change.” By then, Russi
has slid into the Scorpio, and he waves at these people who’ve been waiting
to have a glimpse of Mody Saab. “How do they come to know about my
arrival here?” he wonders. “Children can perhaps guess when their father
comes home”, one of his accompanists remarks. This account might have
seemed hyped up, if one hadn’t been a witness to the scenario.
By quarter past four, he reaches the Circuit House bungalow kept ready
for him. A weary Russi (he has missed out on his siesta) walks in with his
evocative grin mocking at the inappropriate décor of the interiors, “I don’t
think that the colour of the upholstery of sofas matches with that of the
wall.” A visitor, who is watching him wait for the room keys for over an
hour groans, “Shouldn’t he have been accommodated at the Director’s
Bungalow of Tisco?” DN Sinha, Russi’s former press secretary at Tisco, too
can’t resist commenting: “So far as the history of house of Tatas goes, Mr
Mody was the only person who served the Company as the chairman and
managing director at the same time.” On seeking his attention to Sinha’s
statement, Russi flashes an affirmative smile.
Finally, the keys are obtained. As his suite is being done up, Russi sits
relaxed and composed talking to a plethora of people coming to shake
hands with him. Meanwhile, two little girls manage to get nearer him.
Although some of those present try to dissuade them not to disturb him, as
he looks tired enough, Russi asks them to let those two lasses be: “Saab, we
haven’t met you before, but we have heard so much about you that we
thought it is you only who could save our mother’s life.” The older of the
two sisters who manages to say all this at one go is almost breathless with
anxiety. “What’s the problem with your mother, is she not well?” he asks.
She briefs that her mother has been bed-ridden for quite some time and now
awaiting her end. So, if he would make a recommendation for her treatment
to the authorities at Tata Hospital, they could take their mother there, and
make a last effort to restore her back to life. Disturbed by their state of
distress, he tells them, “I am no longer associated with the Tatas, so my
recommendation for her treatment would be of no consequence in the
hospital you have mentioned. But I must do something for you. It is my
moral responsibility to stand by you.” He asks Ashok Tomar to jot down the
necessary details. As these two girls leave the room with tearful eyes,
Russi’s remark says it all: “Times change so fast, today I cannot
recommend anyone’s case to Tata Hospital that grew before my eyes brick
by brick.”
Russi is on this visit to Jamshedpur, in fact, in search of a bungalow
where he could spend the remaining years of his life, perhaps, sitting and
staring out of its windows to see the smoke spiralling out of the chimney of
Tisco plant, and visiting his mother’s grave regularly. After not-so-happy an
exit from Tisco, what brings him back so often to Jamshedpur? is the
obvious question. “I come back to Jamshedpur and not to Tisco. My dentist
Naushir Piroshaw is in Jamshedpur and my mother is buried here. I have an
attachment to this place and will continue coming here, no matter what
others might say. Here people love me and I also try to reciprocate the
abundance of their warmth and love.” Having seen the city grow from a
rocky, bushy terrain to an industrial hub, and that he has considerably
contributed to alter the living standards of its inhabitants, Russi’s heart still
beats for them. “Look, I have never had any plan as such to live my life.
Rather I learnt to live my life, confronting it face to face, as that would be
the only way to enjoy it in this world, where change is the only constant.”
But what never changes is the universality of emotions, and he is a very
emotional man: “Yes, I get myself driven emotionally at the sight of a man
dying a death without care, and a child starving for days, a woman being
forced to live a shameful life to fill the tummy of her children. We all feel
pain, we have nerves; we burst into tears at the death of our relations. After
all, it was our emotion that prompted us at the dawn of our civilisation, to
build the wheel and set it into motion. Emotion taught us to cover our body
with clothes.”
Is there room for emotion in this cut-throat, rough-tough world of profit
and loss? Relays Russi: “Whatever you are doing, you are doing for certain
country and its people. So to serve a country and its people you have to feel
for them. And unless you can feel their pulse, you can never succeed in any
business. Business is not only a few figures and a few takeovers. But I
would never suggest being emotional at the cost of values and morals in
life. Even I had to sack so many employees in Tisco. I had no other
alternative; I could not have ignored the rules of discipline. Whenever I
would talk to young people in the old days, I would tell them, ‘Work hard
and play hard, the future belongs to you.’ However, I don’t say that
anymore. Now I tell them, ‘The present belongs to you. For God’s sake
work hard and do something for the country. In every action that you take,
big or small, just allow one thought to pass your mind, as to whether you
are helping your country and its people, or not. And, if you are not, then
desist from that action’.”
In this ruthless pursuit of targets and turnovers, his final take on the
modern-day aggressive drive is: “The world has to change; and it would be
foolish to think that all changes are for the better. But change has to take
place, otherwise what’s the point of having history. I didn’t live in the times
of John I.” But one thing, he feels, would never alter: “There are people
who give orders, and there are people who carry orders. Whether the world
progresses, new ideas come in, and new standards are set, this is one
fundamental thing that shall not change, irrespective of jargons, or whatever
terms you may be penning down on the personnel. That is why I never read
a book on management ever in my life, though many of them kept lying on
my shelf, because whatever I did, came naturally to me.”
Those were the days: with his brothers Piloo, Kali,and wife Silloo on a
holiday
With Silloo: separated but best of friends

Life is all about living it up

  

I me and myself
 
Moments of introspection
With a royal friend: His Majesty Duke of Edinburgh

Citations and trophies galore: worldwide renown

 The polka-dotted Frisco with his benign master

Still at work as Chairman of Mobar India Ltd: “Even if six people

mourn my loss,I would have led a successful life.”
  
He might have taken certain impulsive decisions, but it was “only a
learning process”. For him, “Those decisions, some right, some wrong,
some madly implemented, some well implemented, were the moments that
came and passed on. We can remain humane and retain our ethics even
while we are pursuing our targets or turnovers. You win some, you lose
some. But in life, you must adhere to certain standards. No matter how the
pace of life changes, you must never lose sight of those standards.
Sometimes it may work out well, sometimes it may not, but you should
continue to conform to those yardsticks.”
And his undying veneration for his father Sir Homi, respect for JRD
Tata, or admiration for the industrial giant Henry Ford, is more in terms of
their nobility than just the material success. “At the end of the day,
regardless of the millions you make, its how you emerge as a human being.
That remains the bottom line for me, though others may differ. We have
played our part in transforming India from a backward feudal country to a
progressive industrial state. I have always tried throughout my life, no
matter what positions I held, not to put on any airs, or consider myself
particularly important. I have loved human beings, and I think it is to their
blessings that I owe any success I may have achieved.”
The man-manager, for whom progress could be manifested only
“through the ever-increasing happiness in the lives of the people”, Russi
would like to leave the world a little happier, and, for sure, he would be in
hell of a hurry to come back, “because I have really had a lot of fun living
once”. As what? “As a good human being and a great artist!” With an
abiding faith in the Almighty, he believes that God takes into account your
good and bad karma before deciding on your next birth: “I feel whatever
wrong one does in life, and I must have done many, but some of the good I
might have done would work in my favour. One has to have a clear
conscience. If I had to live my life all over again, I’d go through it the same
way.”
Such an eventful and enriching life, and having given back so much to
life, any dream that he still craves for? Quoting a Persian verse, says Russi,
“Even if six people mourn my loss, I would have led a successful life.
When we are born, we cry and the world laughs. If we can laugh when we
are dying and leave the tears for others to shed – that is the ultimate dream.”
The one who would like to be remembered as a good man, not particularly a
great man, his epitaph, he says, should read: “He lived life to the fullest and
wanted everyone to join him.” Perhaps, that would also reinforce the words
of his eternal hero Napoleon: “A throne is only a bench covered with
velvet”. Amen!

 
  

ANNEXURE
 

Positions Held by Russi Mody

 
 
Chairman Mobar India Ltd.
Chairman,
IITian General Services Ltd.
Emeritus
Chief Patron Dr Graham’s Homes, Kalimpong
Turista India
National Finance
Mukta Shilpa
Ex-Chairman Mobar Engineering GmbH, Germany
The Tata Iron & Steel Co. Ltd.
Tata Limited, London
Tata Incorporated, New York
Tata Korf Engineering Services Ltd.
Tata Timken Ltd.
Tata MANN GHH Ltd.
Tata Metaliks Ltd.
Chilka Aquatic Farm Ltd.
Air India Ltd.
Indian Airlines Ltd.
Hotel Corporation of India Ltd.
Wellman Incandescent India Ltd.
 Lanco Steel Ltd.
Board of Trustees, Calcutta Foundation
Mishan Flora India Ltd.
Friends of Trees, West Bengal
Finance Commission, Indian Olympic Association
Engineering Export Promotion Council
Ex-Director Lok Housing Finance Corporation Ltd.
Lok Housing & Construction Ltd.
Tata Sons Ltd.
Tata Industries Ltd.
Tata Engineering & Locomotive Co. Ltd.
Bihar State Industrial Development Corporation
Housing Development Finance Corporation Ltd.
Council Director Sahara India Parivar
Hony. Life
National Institute of Personnel Management
Member
President Howrah Union
Jamshedpur Cricket Club
Ex-Member All India Organisation of Employers
Indian Chamber of Commerce
Academy of Fine Arts
Vice President Calcutta South Club
Ex-Vice
Indian Standard Institution
President
Former
Psort Trust of Calcutta
Commissioner
Ex-Chairman Xavier Labour Relation Institute, Jamshedpur
Board of Indian Institute of Technology, Kharagpur Xavier
Governors Institute of Management, Bhubaneswar
Member –
Himalayan Mountaineering Institute, Darjeeling World
Board of
Management Council (CIOS), New York
Governors
Trustee People for Animals, Kolkata
 Luminex Technologies, Kolkata People for Animals,
Advisor
Serampore
Member –
Advisory Antara Psychiatric Centre
Committee
Steering Group set up by Government to formulate the
Ex-Member
approach for Industrial Growth during the Eighth Plan
National Executive Council set up by the All-India
Village Development Council
All-India Organisation of Employers
Indian Chamber of Commerce
Associated Chamber of Commerce
Governing Body & General Body of Sports Authority of
India
Independent Board, Bihar
Industrial Reconstruction Corp. Ltd., Kolkata
State Planning Board, Orissa
Bihar Central Labour Advisory Board
Board of Trustees, Bhartiya Yuvashakti Trust, New Delhi
National Geographical Society
Global Advisory Board
Coal Advisory Council, Ministry of Energy
Member The General Council of Birla Institute of Technology
Engineering Exports Promotion Council – Member
Working Committee
Fellow of The Duke of Edinburgh’s Award Scheme
Fellow of the World Academy of Productivity Science
(WAPS), Norway
 
Awards & Recognition
 
Chosen Businessman of the Year by Business India (1983)
 •
Featured amongst the six ace industrial personalities of the world by
British Broadcasting Corporation for their television serial, Money Makers
(1986)
•
Adi Nargis Gandhi Memorial Award for Professional Competence by
Federation of Parsi Zoroastrian Anjumans of India, Mumbai (1988)
•
Award for promoting the cause of National Integration by the Indian
Chamber of Commerce, Kolkata (1988)
•
Conferred Padma Bhushan by Government of India in the field of
Private Sector Management (1989)
•
Declared India’s Best Chief Executive in an opinion poll conducted by
Business World-Marg (March-April 1989)
•
Steelman of the Year Award (1989)
•
Udyog Ratan Award as the Man of the Year by Institute of Economic
Studies (1990)
•
Shiromani Vikas Award for outstanding leadership of Tata Steel and
National Integration (1990)
•
Vijay Shree Award by International Friendship Society of India (1990)
•
HRD Award by the HRD Awards Committee of the National Network
for Outstanding Contribution (1991)
 •
Manav Ratna by Bharat Sevashram Sangh for Contribution to
Community Development, National Integration and Protection of
Environment (1991)
•
Rashtra Bhushan Award by the FIE Foundation, Ichalkaranji,
Maharashtra (1991)
•
Philanthropy Award by the Advanced Centre for the Study of
Philanthropy and Development Affairs (1990)
•
The Pride of India Gold Medal for distinguished services and
outstanding achievements by the NRI Institute, New York (1991)
•
Rajiv Gandhi Excellence Award for Corporate Management (1991)
•
Bharat Udyog Award by the Industrial Exhibition Committee (1992)
•
National Unity Award by the Advisory Board of All India National
Unity Conference (1995)
 
Membership of Clubs

Royal & Ancient Golf Club of St. Andrews, Brooks, London

Bengal Club Ltd., Kolkata

Calcutta Club Ltd., Kolkata

Royal Calcutta Golf Club, Kolkata

 Calcutta South Club, Kolkata

Royal Calcutta Turf Club, Kolkata

Cricket Club of India, Mumbai

Willingdon Sports Club, Mumbai

The Himalayan Club, Darjeeling

The Darjeeling Club Ltd., Darjeeling

Beldih Club Residency, Jamshedpur