Archive

Ratan Tata: A Life by Thomas Mathew. Published in 2024 by HarperCollins Publishers India, 4th Floor, Tower A, Building No 10, DLF Cyber City, DLF Phase II, Gurgaon, 122002. Pp: xvi + 669. Price: Rs 1,499. 

Unusually for a much-awaited publication, this book emerged into the world surrounded by a whiff of controversy. It had been billed as an "authorised” biography as far back as 2022 after HarperCollins had reportedly purchased the rights to the work for a record Rs 20 million (USD 227,000). Originally scheduled to appear in November 2022, the release date was pushed back repeatedly, because Tata and his close aides were, apparently, unwilling to sign off on the manuscript.  But, eventually, a fortnight after Tata passed away (at the age of 86), the book made its appearance, albeit without any reference to its status as an "authorised” biography (instead, it adopts the rather anodyne sub-title "A Life”). Media reports accompanying the book’s release claimed that Tata had, on reading it in draft form, "distanced himself from the project” after being dissatisfied by its "overly flattering content” (e.g. Mint, October 28, 2024).

If that story is true, it shows Tata in flattering light. It points to a high degree of personal modesty which has been corroborated by many of those who had come in contact with him during various stages of his long and multifaceted life. It is also remarkable because not many people of his social standing, wealth and eminence are known to display such self-effacement, especially in countries like India where assertion of ego and narcissism often assume gargantuan proportions.

Was Tata right in taking the view that he is reported to have taken about the tenor of the book? Probably, because the book does, unfortunately, veer towards hagiography, though not of the cloying type which are frequently the staple of commissioned biographies on the subcontinent. It needs to be stated straightaway that Thomas Mathew, a retired civil servant, cannot be accused of any base or mercenary motive in adopting the tone and approach that he does (he is on record to assert that he undertook the project entirely at his own expense and, more importantly, that he did not take "any assistance, financial or otherwise, from Ratan”). What probably accounts for the eulogistic flavor of the book is that Mathew was genuinely "awestruck” and "overwhelmed” by his subject (two phrases that find mention in an "Author’s Note” appended to the book) which deflected him from the objectivity and detachment expected of top-tier biographers.

The book is voluminous, to say the least. Consisting of 35 chapters, it is arranged under seven parts titled: The Beginning; Becoming Ratan Tata; Firing on All Cylinders; The Empire Strikes Back; Serious Challenges; Looking to the Future; and The Man and His Legacy. There are evocative photographs and copious notes (although those notes can only be accessed on a digital device using a QR code, which is far from convenient). A glaring omission which discerning readers will quite legitimately complain about is a back index — which remains the bane of Indian publishing. With judicious editing — coupled with the use of a more optimum typeface — the size of the book could have been made more manageable. The author, however, appears unfazed by its length. Noting that the work "should have been in at least two volumes,” he does not rule out the possibility of a sequel. "It will depend,” he says, "on how the reader … receives this book.”

As can be expected, the book covers a life which was as complex as it was eventful. It details the triumphs and the setbacks, the achievements and the failures, the challenges and the easy wins of Tata’s career, with occasional glimpses into his personal life and mental make-up. For the most part, the narration is workaday, mostly descriptive with hardly any insightful reflections or perceptive analysis, let alone critical comments. There is no dearth of encomiums or paeans of praise for Tata’s "long-term vision,” transformative leadership, "never-say-die attitude,” unyielding resolve, "extraordinary aggressiveness,” or courage of conviction. Ratan was, gushes Mathew, "the leader who gave the group more prominence and status amongst a larger population of the world, even more than Jamsetji (Tata) did.” Even when something went wrong (as it did, for example, in the Tata group’s first attempt at acquiring Tetley Tea in 1994-95), it could not be termed a failure or wasted effort, just "part of a learning curve.” 

The spectacular failure of the Nano car, one of the most high-profile pet projects of Ratan, is also treated somewhat dismissively. The project collapsed, insinuates Mathew, not because of any shortcoming on Ratan’s part but due to a host of other factors which conspired to bring it down, including particularly the apathy — even hostility — of Cyrus Mistry, Tata’s successor as the head of the group, towards Nano.

Many may term the Nano as Ratan’s folly. Others may differ and describe it as a journey that put the spotlight on the Indian automobile industry across the world like never before. In reality, the project proved to the world that India could accomplish what the automobile pundits had dismissed as simply undoable and the utopian dream of a car buff.

Another example, perhaps, of the old adage: "Operation successful, but patient dead!”

Given such lack of objectivity, there are no prizes for guessing the drift of how Mathew would describe the epic battle which unfolded between Mistry and Tata in 2016. Taking it for granted that Mistry had made up his mind to "(run) down his predecessor” (an assertion which is by no means incontrovertible), there were, says Mathew, two theories to explain Mistry’s motives: the first, that "Mistry was determinedly working to dismantle Ratan’s legacy” and the second, that Mistry wanted to take over the Tata Group in stages. He was, says Mathew, "working towards the implementation of a grand strategy whose foundations were laid by his father, Pallonji Shapoorji Mistry (whose Shapoorji Pallonji Group was the single largest private shareholder in the Tata holding company).”

Then follows a long narration of the ugly spat in some detail, with sub-headings such as "An Unbridgeable Chasm,” "Ratan Rebuffed,” "The Denouement,” and "Mistry’s tirade” and couched in language that is, predictably, far from sympathetic to the Mistry cause and which paints him as the villain and Tata as the innocent victim of grave wrongdoing. Mathew’s verdict?

Ratan paid a huge personal price for the values he was sworn to and to safeguard the (Tata) Trusts. The personal attacks on him, a man who has no heir and no next of kin or relative to benefit from his legal victory, but only the marginalized and needy who benefit from the income the Trusts earn, was unwarranted and wounded him deeply.

What about the political controversies in which Ratan came to be embroiled, wittingly or unwittingly, during his stewardship of the Tata group?  Two in particular caught the public eye and dominated the news headlines for considerable lengths of time. The first related to allegations that the Tatas had dallied with terrorists in Assam who had been operating an extortion racket where the Tatas had their tea gardens. The second involved insinuations that a Tata company had participated in corruption relating to the allocation of telecom spectrum licences.  Although the companies in question — and Ratan Tata — were eventually exonerated in both cases, the scandals had the effect of denting their image substantially. In a move that raised many eyebrows, Ratan had, while the second controversy was on-going, written a letter to the chief minister (CM) of Tamil Nadu in which, as well as heaping encomiums on the CM as "a person of great equity and great vision,” he praised the minister named in the scam (who had to spend 15 months in jail as an undertrial before being acquitted) as a person who had brought "rational, fair and action-oriented leadership in the ministry.” While no one has accused Ratan of involvement in wrongdoing in these cases, his action in writing the fawning letter can be seen, at the very least, as a display of poor judgment from someone of his stature and maturity. This action finds no discussion in the book.

Any rounded assessment of a life as rich and action-packed as that of Ratan Tata deserves to be even-handed in its treatment if it is to enjoy credibility. Judged on that touchstone, this book is a disappointment. As noted at the beginning of this review, if it is true that Ratan had found Mathew’s exertions to lack the necessary objectivity, he was entirely justified in withholding his seal of approval for the book. Readers wishing for a less sycophantic approach to biography writing will, alas, have to wait a while longer.           VENKAT IYER

Iyer is a UK-based barrister and legal academic.