PRAKASH BHALERAO: I was born into a financially comfortable and traditional extended family in Indore. My maternal uncle was quite the patriarch. My parents used to pay heed to what he had to say — that nearly cost me my higher education. He didn’t think it was a good idea to send me to IIT Bombay, even though I had got through. His argument was that students picked up “habits” (read: smoking) if they stayed in hostels. I fought and lost, and settled for a college degree. Like my peers, I was interested in computers. So, I enrolled in an engineering course. Though I have been living in the US for the past 30-odd years and respect the country’s idea of the ‘American Dream’ (nothing is impossible), my graduation days in India taught me valuable lessons as well. One of them was to make do with little: what is called the jugaad principle nowadays. At college we resorted to jugaad a lot — for instance, early digital computers used punch cards, often prepared using keypunch machines, as the primary data point. Students would prepare punch cards as a part of the curriculum. But our college, having only one computer, had to send off the cards to IIT Bombay which had the expertise (and computers) to decipher them. We had little exposure, but great professors who made sure that we had a strong grasp of theory. I am really grateful to one such teacher — Professor Iyer. He had just come back from a stint in the US and here he taught a large class of 120 students. He would divide the class into 60 groups and give each group a problem. After the problems were solved, solutions were swapped around. He would let us decide whether a solution worked or not. This exercise stayed with me through my entrepreneurial days — it helped me think out of the box, be open to several ideas at the same time and not get too engrossed in the ‘immediate’ or ‘me’. It was Professor Iyer who egged me on to do more with my life. I applied and got through the Worcester Polytechnic Institute, Massachusetts, for a Masters’ degree in Electrical Engineering. In the US, my reality changed so much: as a student I had access to several of the latest computers and the best libraries. After completing my Masters’, I applied and was employed by Digital Equipment Corporation (DEC) in Palo Alto, California, in the year 1975. It was already a successful company. DEC focussed on new-line, low-cost computers (minicomputers) especially to be used in labs and research institutions. Kenneth Olsen and Harlan Anderson, both electronics engineers from the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, founded the company in 1957 to build low-cost computers that could receive and analyse data from a wide array of scientific instruments. I joined them as a small fish: a CPU designer. But this was an instance when the success stories that people imagine actually happened to me. When I quit, I was the general manager of its semiconducter business. I had started with a small team of 50 and when I left, I had 2,000 people working for me. The company employed more than 120,000 people worldwide at its peak in 1990 and earned more than $14 bn in revenue, till Compaq Computer Corporation bought it in 1998. My lessons in entrepreneurship began in DEC. When entrepreneurs say that they “immediately know” when an idea works, they are deluding themselves. One can never be sure if an idea will work. As an entrepreneur, I take a workable idea and toil on it. If it doesn’t work, then I tweak it. I believe that there is a difference between a founder and an entrepreneur. An entrepreneur is one who fights till an idea takes shape. It doesn’t matter to him (or her) if the idea is his. But he is responsible for spinning and positioning the value of the idea. On the other hand, I see a founder as the main visionary. A successful entrepreneur is a better administrator than visionary. Take Steve Jobs, for instance. His best move was to put in place a team of great managers and ideators, and then oversee the whole operation. The best possible compliment to any entrepreneur would be that he’s tenacious. The founding directors of DEC were great administrators and tenacious as well. The company encouraged workers to constantly think innovatively: pitch an idea and make it work. I helped DEC build four businesses. As I grew, my comfort level in the company, and in the position, also grew. Finally, I was rather too comfortable. All I was doing was picking up the phone and calling people (by then I had a quite a network) and asking them for favours. People say that Indians hit a glass ceiling at Silicon Valley. I would not agree. The only reason that I called it quits was because the work was getting predictable. One of my friends suggested that I “detox” myself for a while, and I took his advice. But I am an Indian after all, and couldn't stay away from work for too long. I soon joined C-Cube Systems, a smaller set-up. A life lesson from my time there was to look at the company’s vision. I became a venture capitalist and an angel investor because of selfish reasons. I am an entrepreneur; I get excited when I am introduced to a new idea and love to see it to its end. Or tweak it till it becomes perfect. And I believe that Indians have what it takes to be successful entrepreneurs — intelligence and tenacity. When I compare them to Americans, I see a difference. I have understood we are sometimes resistant to diversification. The young newlywealthy entrepreneurs need to learn what to do with their money a bit better. Because stock markets crash. Paper or money can disappear overnight. I have watched too many Silicon Valley ventures razed to the ground pre and post the 2001 market crash. Though we have a tendency to scoff at people who buy vineyards, luxury cars, yachts or islands when they make a lot of money, I believe these are assets. Even if the price of the Ferrari drops tomorrow, there’s a certain price tag that it will carry. Selling it off would get some money, instead of putting all of it in the share market. I have always tried to dissuade people who come to me for financial advice from putting all their eggs in one basket. It is a mistake — make sure that if you are a business owner and especially a smart first-generation one, you diversify, whether in your business or in assets. I learnt this the hard way when, overnight, I lost $9 mn in stocks and shares. My wife Sujata, a doctor, panicked. She literally forced me to consult what was known as a ‘financial technician’. I remember that the meeting lasted two hours. By the time he was done with me, I was sweating and my list of savings was nearly non-existent. He made us keep aside a portion of our earnings in municipal bonds and treasury bills. Though the returns on these are really very low, conversely they are the safest options available to a VC or angel investor. I have always stuck by his expenditure diet since then. As an Indian investor in the US, I thought that it was imperative that I hold out a helping hand to my fellow countrymen. Have I been partial to Indian entrepreneurs? No. But I have been partial to interesting ideas that managed to excite me. I will admit that. Our problem is that usually most IT people still don’t hail from business families. They don’t have the background, expertise or mentors who could help them out. That’s where people like me have to step in. As an angel investor, there are four questions that I try to work out in my mind when I am looking at an entity. Let’s say the entity is an automobile manufacturer looking for investors. Is its market confused? Does it have a massive opportunity? Is the product differentiating? Does the entity have a strong team? Mostly in this order. If there is no demand, there’s no need for a product. If you can’t create sufficient differentiation between your product and someone else’s, then there would be a confused market. Finally, dysfunctional teams don’t make any wonderful, original idea work. People often ask me when I will retire — I can’t. My wife has long retired and she’s enjoying herself. My children are doing well for themselves. Honestly, there’s no sane reason that I should be working. But I am addicted to work and entrepreneurship. Recently, I was introduced to an entertainment distribution company focussed on interactive information and saw tremendous potential in it. Thus, my interest in avaniTV Solutions Pvt Ltd began. The company wants to provide passengers branded, live television and movies on demand, along with internet music and video service in the comfort of their cars. The idea was developed by a Verisimo Networks team in a Bengaluru lab. There’s potential in the concept and for now it’s set my blood rushing. This is the high that defines my work as an entrepreneur. So here I go again.

Can this new concept help communicate and collaborate at the office? Or will it become a victim of workplace culture?

Years ago, a concept was born. In the past three years or so, it began to slowly grow. In 2011, it gained traction. And in 2012, it’s said to be poised to take off. In fact, it is thought there will be a battle for this space by large providers. The concept is fondly called Enterprise 2.0 — and less fondly called Failure 2.0. We’re all familiar with failure, but what in heaven’s name is Enterprise 2.0? If you want to go the complex route, it’s Web 2.0 technologies applied to the workplace. If you want to keep it simple, it’s an organisation that is collaborative. The term was first used by Harvard Business School professor Andrew McAfee in 2006 and is also called Social Enterprise, Social Business and a bunch of other things — but it ultimately boils down what you can think of as collaboration on steroids. Of course, all workplaces collaborate — or think they do. What an organisation does if it embraces E2.0 is to make a special point of communicating to work together on common goals so that there is an open non-hierarchical system of employees engaging with employees to get information, knowledge, expertise and creative ideas. In a way, it’s like internal social media, though experts warn against thinking of E2.0 as the Facebook for the workplace because then you end up with a focus on the platform rather than the goal at hand. A Wikipedia fits into the definition. So does a blog. So does group messaging. But we all know how it is with some of these: they start off with much enthusiasm from employees but within a space of three months become neglected, causing senior management to frog-march someone or the other to make sure updates are done frequently. Service providers say that truly collaborative enterprise needs special tools — and they come in and install them. IBM, which has long been in this domain, has complex tools that combine content management with internal social communication for organisations. More recently, it has launched tablet apps for Enterprise 2.0. Microsoft has a suite of tools centering around its SharePoint collaboration platform, Office 360, and the software we use everyday, such as Outlook. Cisco, which has been in the collaboration space for a long time, also offers technologies to enable the adoption of communication Enterprise 2.0 style. Many smaller companies are active with such tools too. Qontext, for instance, has a Facebook-like solution that integrates externally with customer-facing solutions. The E2.0 promise is that using these tools to communicate will make an organisation more efficient, innovative and rich in talent. Imagine, for example, how much of a waste it would be if one division of an auto company devised a new solution to a problem with some vehicles. When presented, it is found that another division in another city already solved the problem. People just omitted to communicate. Think of how often someone wanted information and spent days getting it together only to find it was available a step away. Situations like these would be avoided because of proper E2.0 adoption. Collaboration could be generated or be “emergent” when a specific need arises for small groups working on a project, or be used organisation-wide for best practices, processes and HR initiatives. The logic is seductive. So why would it not work? In a word: culture. Clearly, the technology isn’t what makes an Enterprise 2.0. Unless a culture that is wholeheartedly conducive to communication is in place, it really could be Failure 2.0. We all know, for example, organisations where the top management isn’t fond of communication. They believe in a strong and silent style and don’t necessarily give internal communication much importance. There are some companies which run in an authoritarian manner and communication between controlled silos may be actively discouraged. And more commonly, there could exist a culture in which employees don’t want to share information or even ask for it. Currying favour with senior management or positioning oneself as the one and only indispensable expert on something has been part of the way employees manage others’ perceptions of themselves for years. There are many other culture and process issues to tackle before a company can go ahead and implement Enterprise 2.0 tools so that they actually work instead of just costing the company rather a lot in financial and time wasted experimentation. The size of the company also counts. Large long-time companies could have a problem changing their ways to keep pace with internal social media, especially if they have branches in far-flung places. And they’re the ones that need collaboration most. Startups could have a problem with E2.0 because their basic processes may not yet be in place — and they may not want to communicate in a totally open environment because their business is not yet wholly certain. And yet they need collaboration because the early days are the time they need great ideas. This year we’ll hear a lot more on the subject of E2.0 as companies try to get their heads around the culture vs technology clash. But one thing is for sure: the workplace needs to move out of the top-down approach that it often employs to its people. Marcel LeBrun, CEO of social business company Radian6 (now with Salesforce) has a dire warning for us: if we don’t adopt social media and Enterprise 2.0 methods and concepts, we could soon have a “CEO Spring” along the lines of the 2011 Arab revolutions.

Have citizens lost faith in government bodies?

AS INDIA enters 2012, the country is at an important crossroads. At one level, the expansion in the quantum and breadth of economic activity remains impressive, and reflects the ways in which sections of the country’s population are transforming their lives for the better. Despite this, 2011 heard a cacophony of voices raising questions about the tenuous character of India’s growth story, repeatedly flagging concerns about systemic inertia, policy paralysis and leadership weaknesses. What accounts for all this? We should start by recognising that the scale of changes in India over the past few decades has placed an extraordinary amount of pressure on governmental institutions that were created in the period of the licence raj, and some, even earlier. Many of these institutions are characterised by attributes that they inherited from the colonial period, when the state’s priorities were different from those that came to be articulated in the Indian Constitution in 1950. Many of these postcolonial inertias and inefficiencies, instead of going away, ossified in the early years of independence, through to the 1980s. A product of such a past, branches of our government are clearly feeling the pressures of keeping up with a globalising India with all of its attendant energies — an information economy, accelerated migrations, the widening gap between rich and poor, and so on. Simultaneously, the distinctions between the state, private sector and civil society are becoming fuzzier than in the past, posing serious questions about the character of India’s democratic culture. Without underplaying the importance of economic growth, it is clear that for the majority of citizens to experience the benefits of a growing economy in their liberal democratic polity, institutions of the state — the legislature, executive, and judiciary — have to tread a fine line. They have to perform in ways that are aligned with their economic context, while simultaneously remaining true to the principles enshrined in the Constitution. To achieve this balance, institutions have to perform efficiently and consistently, but also retain their legitimacy in the eyes of the citizenry whose interests they serve. It is a truism of political theory that political legitimacy is considered a basic condition for governing, without which a government will suffer legislative deadlocks and collapse. It is in this context that we must look at the events of 2011. There is a widespread consensus that 2011 should be seen as year in which dissatisfaction with the status quo manifested itself in unexpected ways around the world. The Arab Spring and the Occupy Wall Street gatherings merely serve to punctuate what has been a much more widespread phenomenon globally, over the past decade. Closer to home, the climactic (or, anti-climactic, depending on your point of view) denouement of one phase of Anna Hazare’s movement in December serves to vindicate the views of many who feel that India’s governmental apparatus, especially the legislature and executive branches of the state, are failing to meet the expectations of an India witnessing the heightening of social and economic divisions. When the winter session of Parliament recently ended unsatisfactorily, a collective groan of disenchantment spread through the country. This sense of disappointment grew out of a growing realisation that India’s institutional arrangements are not only finding it difficult to function effectively; but more troublingly, that they are disconnected from the majority of Indians, in a quixotic land of their own whose internal turf battles have little meaning for most of the country’s people. How has this played out? Let us list some of the issues that were centrestage at the national level this past year: corruption, food security, land acquisition, foreign direct investment — the list is long. A glance at the ways these issues were debated reveals that by and large, the political class expressed themselves along party lines, and the country’s policy establishment predictably built on these debates by going deeper into the operational challenges posed by the proposed reforms. As in the past, the flurry of excitement surrounding the arrival of each of these issues was succeeded by a period of passivity, and worse, of condescension about people’s expectations. Where 2011 was different, however, was in the way that citizens reacted when they were confronted with governmental indifference. The events of 2011 reveal how far Indians feel skeptical about the ability of the many existing institutions of the state to deliver on what they have been mandated to do. Anna Hazare’s movement, in this sense, touched a chord of popular disenchantment against the apathy of governmental institutions; the ‘corruption’ issue was largely a subplot. This reading of the events of the recent past raises questions for the current discussions on the challenges of ‘institution-building’. It is relentlessly argued that India today needs better institutions, ideally those that are professionally-run. One agrees with this claim (with the caveat that the meaning of ‘professionally-run’ is debatable) — but matters do not end there. I say this because one’s interpretation of this exhortation — that we need institutions — depends largely on one’s definition of an ‘institution,’ why it exists, towards what end, and most importantly, for whom. Fundamentally, the successful implementation of rules and systems is tied to their legitimacy in the minds of those who are expected to follow them. What are the determinants of such legitimacy? Start with the tasks and outcomes that a citizenry expects its institutions and systems to deliver, and then work backward from there. Is the mail reaching on time? Do schools successfully educate kids? Does the garbage get cleaned up? Rather than counting post offices, ensure that the mail is getting delivered. Instead of tallying the numbers of enrolled students, find out if they’re learning anything. Do not tout the amount the government spends on the Jawaharlal Nehru National Urban Renewal Mission, make sure that roads are free of potholes. In a nutshell, find ways of making institutions accountable to citizens in ways that have a tangible impact on their lives. This is the bare minimum people expect of their government. Such outcomes earn institutions their legitimacy. The legitimacy of our existing institutions has taken a battering this past year. Let us hope that in 2012, the good sense that sustains any good democratic polity reverses this pattern. Such reversals have occurred in the past, and there is no reason that this cannot happen again.

When the Indian Cabinet cleared the deck for Foreign Direct Investment (FDI) in the multi-brand retail sector after years of discussion, there was joy in many quarters. The government called it ‘another revolutionary leap’ after the IT revolution and liberalisation. But the euphoria was not shared by those who saw it as a step that could crush the ‘little guy’

Once the announcement to allow FDI in multi-brand retail was announced, the Opposition Bhartiya Janata Party (BJP), an advocate of FDI in retail when in power between 1999 to 2004, opposed the move and created a ruckus inside and outside the Parliament. Some of the alliance partners of the ruling United Progressive Alliance (UPA) government also went with the Opposition’s argument. Under intense pressure, the government had to put on hold the decision to allow 51 per cent FDI holding in the multi-brand retail trade and raise the FDI ceiling from 51 to 100 per cent in the single-brand retail trade. However, the cap on the cabinet decision has uncapped a new debate about the merits and demerits of FDI in the retail sector. The proponents of FDI claim that it will have a positive impact on farmers, give a fillip to post-harvest infrastructure like modern warehousing and cold storage, and give growers a competitive rate for their products. It would also free farmers from the clutches of middlemen who deprive them of their share of profits. For the believers, FDI in retail is all about rural upliftment and reform in a market-driven manner. It is also claimed that the massive investment in trade and supply chains will reduce and stabilise prices of food grain, thereby taking care of seasonal inflation. The argument goes that FDI provides better choices to consumers in terms of pricing and the experience of shopping. Another persuasive argument put forward is that the entry of big international retailers will create at least one billion jobs. Supporters of the move don’t buy the argument that traditional small retail shop owners, the neighbourhood mom-and-pop stores, will be impacted. But opponents discount these virtues as corporatesponsored propaganda to sell an idea under pressure from multinational companies and the western world. They claim that the presence of the Walmarts et al will eat up traditional grocery shopowners. They fear that farmers with small landholdings will be reduced to penury as big retail houses target only big farmers. On the possibility of food inflation coming down, critics argue that the inflationary phenomenon has to do with shortages on the supply side and distribution bottlenecks, which fall in the government’s domain. Anti-FDI groups counter the ‘increased employment’ factor with the query that when more than 500,000 traders will be displaced in a single metro like Delhi by the advent of big retail houses, how would the creation of a few thousand jobs compensate? Some doubts are valid, like the issue of farmers with small landholdings; around 85 per cent of the farmers have small agricultural lands. But it is also unfounded to think that farmers’ conditions will deteriorate. The farmers in Medak district of Andhra Pradesh have been selling their products to Metro, the German wholesale brand, since 2003. They are happy to be rid of middlemen and glad to have ready customers. Therefore, both opponents and proponents need to debate the issue with an open mind. DW spoke to Dr Rajiv Kumar, Secretary General of the Federation of Indian Chambers of Commerce and Industry and former Director of the Indian Council for Research on International Economic Relations. We also discussed the issue with Devinder Sharma, a food and trade policy analyst.

DR RAJIV KUMAR// Foreign Direct Investment in retail means investment by foreign companies and multinationals, in the retail sector in India, either as single undertakings or in joint ventures with domestic partners. Actually they will have to team up with the Indian partners to build mega stores because only 49 per cent is allowed to foreign partners. FDI will assist in modernising the retail sector in India and help the sector keep pace with growth in the economy. This is the general benefit. The most specific benefit is that big retailers help to reduce the cost of all the products that they bring in, and therefore consumers have to pay a lower price. So there is a direct benefit to the consumers who also get a better shopping experience because of the increased choices in the stores. For the farmers, the benefit is that the big retailers do away with the intermediaries between them and the final consumer. This raises the price of products. With their removal, the farmers can get a better price and consumers pay a lower rate. Moreover, farmers will also benefit from newer varieties of products and technologies that the retailers will bring. This is what happened in the case of Pepsico. It gave newer technologies to farmers. Or in the case of farmers growing potatoes for McDonalds, who also have been given new technologies that have improved yields and, therefore, increased their income. And finally, the big retailers will also make investments in logistics, like transporting the goods from the farm gate to the final consumer without much waste. The airconditioned chain, trucks, warehouses — all of that will reduce wastage of agricultural products, which at the moment is about 30 per cent. Because of this reduction, extra products which in turn will get added in the market, will help food security. With the intermediaries eliminated, prices will be brought down and this will ease the food inflation. The opposition to the move is political. There is no logic behind the strident voices raised against it — it is simply opposition for the sake of opposition. The main resistance is also coming from the small retailers and intermediaries who think that the entry of the big retailers will cut into their profits and reduce their share in the market. This is only to be expected. But as we have tried to explain many times, while the share of the small retailers will go down, since the trade itself will expand rapidly, the overall size will not reduce. Perhaps the real opposition comes because a large part of the retail trade at the moment is in the cash economy, and will be transferred to the organised, bankable economy which will mean a big change for all concerned. The growth in the economy has to permit the entry of large retail stores. You already have Indian retailers like the Big Bazaar, Reliance Fresh, etc., operating in India. German brand Metro is already a player in the wholesale segment. The only difference will be that with Foreign Direct Investment this process will be accelerated and the growth process boosted. Without the FDI the Indian businessmen, who don’t have any experience in this process, will take time to mature. They will get there in any case; it’s only a matter of time. The attempt by small retailers, the mom-and-pop stores, to prevent the entry of large retailers or organisations is bound to fail. The Left parties demand that the government build its own stores without bringing in multinationals. The Left has used this argument to rule West Bengal for 35 years, and I don’t think I need to expand this point and explain any further. The government is not in the business of running retail stores. The government should be in the business of providing law and order, providing security, providing education, and organising healthcare and basic infrastructure. So, to argue that the government should be running retail stores, hotels and restaurants, is stupid. I am simply being honest about this. I am very optimistic and believe that this is an idea whose time has come. It cannot be stopped. Having said that, I don’t know when all this will become a reality — it is tough for me to predict. I do believe that people could be informed better about these reforms. There is no discussion on the need for reforms and about the benefits in any language other than English. That used to be sufficient some 20 years ago because the elite (who read English) were able to undertake the reforms. Now the reforms affect the lives of general people and because of information explosion, the masses are now better organised. We need to have this discussion in all the regional languages and in Hindi, otherwise awareness will not increase.

DEVINDER SHARMA// There is a misconception that this move will uplift the condition of the farmers. This is a failed model elsewhere and can’t be successful in India. If the idea is to just get involved because it involves big corporate houses, then I think such an idea is not in the larger interest of the country. If socialism or communism could not do any good to the world, then why replicate a failed model in such a big and complex country like India? The government is under tremendous pressure politically. The first head of the state to visit India after the 2009 elections was the British Prime Minister, followed by the heads of states of Germany, France, America, Canada and so on. And all of them have been pressurising India to open up the retail sector. The other thing which is little known in India is that the G20 has also, under an agreement at the last meeting in Toronto, made it mandatory for all member countries to open up to FDI in retail and remove all obstacles. At the same time, they are also to report the development to the International Monetary Fund (IMF), which is coordinating this process. India is one of those members of the G20 which has not been able to comply, so is under tremendous pressure. Unfortunately, the Indian government is preparing a fake analysis to justify the entry of FDI into India. That is why there was protest on this by the Opposition, some parties of the ruling alliance and the general public.Secondly, the argument that it will help in the development of agriculture is certainly not based on facts — it is based on biased studies done by the government to justify the move. Let’s try to analyse where it has been helpful, if at all. If you look at the original paper which has been produced by the department of Industrial Promotion and Policy and the subsequent studies done by the Indian Council for Research on International Economic Relations (ICRIER) and so on, these are basically faulty studies. Let me question a couple of assertions. The first is that it will create employment. Walmart is the world’s biggest retail company now and its total turnover is around $420 bn; it employs 20 lakh people. In India, ironically, the total turnover of the retail industry is also about $420 bn. There are 120 mn shops and it employs 40 million people. Now the question is, how will they create more jobs by destroying such a big market and rendering so many people useless? When you look at British firms like Sainsbury’s and others, they were supposed to create 24,000 jobs between themselves in the last two years, which is what they promised to the government. Instead, they have actually offloaded 820 people. So if they have not created jobs in the UK, how can you think that they can come and create employment for us? So the employment creation has to be seen in the light of how many jobs are being displaced. In the final analysis there would be more victims and less survivors. The other argument is that this will help farmers get a better price. This is again a flawed thesis based on wrong analysis. When you talk about farmers’ welfare people think, “why oppose it?” But look at America — the birthplace of Walmart and grooming ground for Tesco and other big retailers. In America, the farmers definitely benefited because on the one hand you have Walmart and on the other hand you have the commodity exchanges. Commodity trading is a popular practice there. Despite all this, USA is providing farm subsidies, which include direct income support to farmers. A recent study shows that if the Green Box subsidies or farm subsidies are withdrawn in America, there would be a fall of 42 to 45 per cent in agricultural production. So is the income of farmers going up because of Walmart or because of factors like commodity trading and subsidies? In the past five years the American government has pumped in more than $300 bn in subsidies. In Europe, too, despite the presence of all these multinational retailers, governments provide huge agricultural subsidies. And even then one farmer quits agriculture every minute there. If you look at the Latin American countries, where over 65 per cent of the retail industry is in the hands of FDI, a large number of farmers are being forced to leave agriculture. So what kind of model are we bringing to India? The third argument is that it will help in removing middlemen, and therefore, provide more income to farmers. But look at things in perspective. If Walmart, for instance, is really squeezing out the middleman, it is also becoming one. It is not a consumer, it is a retail giant and the definition of middle-man is somebody who is between the producer and the consumer. The only difference is that it is a very big middleman and it keeps small middlemen out of the process. The impression we have in India is that the traditional middleman is somebody who gobbles up lots of profit. This is true. But with multinationals come a battery of other people which include the standardiser, the quality controller, the processor, the retailer, the packaging man and so on. That is why a number of studies show that in America the farm income has come down over the years, since the number of middlemen actually multiplies when the supermarket comes into a country. So where is the advatage? Allowing FDI in retail is going to be suicidal for Indian agriculture. Nowadays anything that comes with bags of money is an idea whose time has come. Business bodies are not concerned with national interest — their only motive is profit. They are concerned about their own collaborations and joint agreements. According to a disclosure, Walmart alone invested `52 crore between 2007-2009 in India on lobbying. That money has gone somewhere. The revelation is only about the money spent by Walmart; what about the expenses by the other 10 big retail giants? This is a passing phase where all political parties’ popular agenda is driven by corporate interests. But it will be tragic if we allow this because we are actually destroying our own capabilities and letting things go into the hands of foreign companies which will repack the profits to their own countries. It is basically a system of recolonisation of the country. I think we need to improve infrastructure and provide farm incomes. To borrow these failed models and then think that we are trying to help Indian farmers is not going to help them.

HIDE DESIGN It’s love of leather, not business, that shapes Hidesign’s success story, says Dilip Kapur

I was born in New Delhi to a post- Partition refugee family. But my parents soon moved to Agra where my father set up a shoe factory and stores. Obviously the love for leather is genetic! We moved to Puducherry when I was six. The reason was the Auroville Ashram. My parents sold every asset — factory and stores — and donated the money to the ashram. I loved the ashram school. Its free schooling system allowed me to do what I liked and I think it gave me my defining characteristics: curiosity and search for individual growth and identity. The system was the philosophy of the Mother and a Frenchman called Pavitra, who have influenced me profoundly. The school also defined my sense of beauty: our notebooks had a motto etched on the cover, “There is great beauty in simplicity”. The clean lines of Hidesign come from there. The love for beauty must also be from my mother who loved to paint and was known as the finest embroiderer in the ashram. And I absolutely loved the sea. Swimming in the ocean and playing on the beach would be among my greatest pleasures in life! My first full-time job was when I was finishing my PhD in international affairs. Running out of scholarship money to complete my dissertation, I took on the first job that paid enough to take me through the nine months it took to finish. It was a job in a leather goods company where I learnt to hand-dye, cut and glue leather together and make a bag out of it. The intellectual in me loved working with my hands. But what was getting shaped was my lifetime affair with leather. When I returned to India, I kept making bags as a hobby, never realising that this would end up being the focus of my working life in a few years as it grew into what is now Hidesign. It started off with one artisan. We made one bag a day. The first bags I designed and made were gifted to my family. Through a friend of mine, a German man saw my creations and ordered 1,400 bags. I had just started this and had one cobbler working for me. After six months, I managed to supply just 200 bags. Around that time a friend who was staying at Auroville returned to Australia to work in a car factory. When he broke his back, he got $12,000 from his company. He came back, bought my bags, and sold them in Australia. He was quite successful and that was how we reached Australia. One of his cousins living in England saw my bags and was impressed. She started buying them for the UK market. Then, somebody who visited Auroville from California saw my bags and started selling them there. Interestingly, I didn’t see what I was doing as ‘business’ the first 10 years. I couldn’t even read my PnL accounts! We just enjoyed what we were doing and that’s pretty much how we operate even today. We never feel we are even close to having ‘achieved’ a goal. Being an entrepreneur is only one aspect of what I would want. I still teach in Auroville, I would still like to continue to learn (thoroughly enjoying learning how to draw right now), be involved in the community at Auroville and Puducherry (heritage especially). On the way there were several peaks and troughs. My lows have been more psychological. Twice I came close to giving up Hidesign. First time was in 1985, when it was going from becoming a hobby into a business. I didn’t want to become a businessman and even thought of giving up the hobby. Then again in 2000, just before I started selling in India. India was starting retail. I found it exciting to be in touch with the final person who was using my product. Since I have not studied business, my approach is more instinctive. I work on short-term goals and have learnt, over and over again, that being unique and innovative is the greatest strength. Think through problems and don’t just take the easy route. From the time when I designed our first handbag — Toscana — till date I play close attention to every aspect of the creative and operational process. Even with a strong design team it is tough to come up with a collection that is new and relevant every season. Hidesign’s future lies in becoming a self-confident brand with its own unique identity. One that learns to relate to people of different cultures and heritage across the world. My son Vikas Kapur has joined us, but I see the future of Hidesign as being in the hands of anyone who is committed to it and talented enough to drive it. There are a few that I have my eyes on within the organisation.

I Wish I Could Be

Who else would I like to be? I am quite comfortable in my skin. If I change the question to who I admire, I would say anyone who has successfully bettered lives through their innovative thinking. Could be a Nelson Mandela, Ho Chi Minh, Steve Jobs — the list of supermen is actually quite long. That’s comforting to note. (As told to Rohini Banerjee)

A big birthday as the capital city celebrates a re-emergence

INDIA HASN’T really known quite how to mark the first centenary of the founding of its modern capital city, Delhi, by the British in 1911. It is not quite politically correct to celebrate things done by former colonial masters, even though many of the country’s elite continue to polish their English accents, and relish their links with long-dethroned maharajas and lesser royal families. Times change of course. India is no longer a struggling underdeveloped nation but an internationally recognised economic power, albeit with many problems of under-development. Britain on the other hand, no longer rules the waves and has become an island of declining economic and political importance, located geographically and emotionally offshore from the European continent. Rather like India’s old maharajas, it still carries some clout internationally, even though its current Prime Minister, David Cameron, likes rather obsequiously to underplay its importance when on foreign visits. Strong ties remain between the two countries, strengthened by the councommon language of English that has become Britain’s most enduring worldwide colonial legacy. The young flock to the US for university education and most parents aspire for their children to become Harvard graduates and US investment bankers, rather than British equivalents. But the UK is more accessible, and it has become fashionable for the rich to have a flat in London, especially in Mayfair where businessmen such as Anil Agarwal of Vedanta and Subrata Roy of Sahara have set up kudosseeking camps — Agarwal by buying a palatial former Rothschild’s house and Roy by buying the Grosvenor House Hotel. But India still could not be expected to celebrate a British century so, after much debate and procrastination, it was eventually decided early last year to mark not the anniversary of King George’s mela, but the historical ‘re-emergence’ 100 years ago of Delhi as the capital. Re-emergence of course was a neat word, making the celebrations a sly dig at the British who had earlier moved the capital from Delhi to Calcutta in the late 18th century. Last month, I drove to Coronation Park in the north-eastern outskirts of the capital, where statues of King George and other dignitaries were dumped on brick plinths in the 1960s by a government that was unsure what to do with these embarrassing relics of a not-sodistant past. Totalitarian regimes such as the Soviet Union and China (plus the US more recently in Iraq) demolish such statues, but the world’s largest democracy has been more self-consciously caring, and instead of carting King George’s statue off from the India Gate canopy on Raj Path to a stone breakers yard, planted him along with his peers in the distant park. The forsaken location was an apt choice for the statues — not only was it largely hidden from view, but it was also the site of three imperial British durbars. The third of these huge celebrations of colonial pomp and power was the one in 1911, when King George visited the councommon try with his wife, Queen Mary, to mark his coronation a few months earlier. Addressing some 100,000 spectators of varying grandeur on December 12, he announced the new capital, which was eventually built in the 1920s and 1930s. While Delhi was growing into a conurbation of approaching 20 mn people, grass grew around the crumbling imperial monuments, encircled (as I discovered when I last went there a decade or so ago) by a wall and rusty gate with a padlock that a bored attendant would sometimes open to curious (usually British) visitors. Several statues vanished, leaving topless plinths that added to the desolate symbolism. Some went to welcoming destinations in the UK, Ireland and Australia — Rufus Daniel Isaacs, the first Marquis of Reading and a Viceroy in the 1920s, for example now stands in the English town of Reading where he was taken by his family. At the park last month, I found 200 or so labourers shifting earth and chipping stone walkways to mark the re-emergence’ anniversary with new ornamental gardens. King George’s statue, and a ceremonial column with a plaque that he unveiled in 1911 to mark his coronation a few months earlier, will be the notable features at the revived park along with four other remaining British statues. Conservators have sometimes tried to clean up the site in the past, and eventually Delhi authorities agreed that the park should be renovated and expanded, and that is what is now happening, with the main part due for completion in August. “It doesn’t matter if it was the Moguls or the British. We are interested in conserving history and we can’t not do it just because it’s King George the Fifth”, says A.G. Krishna Menon, who heads the Delhi branch of INTACH, the conservation organisation that is running the work with Delhi authorities. The Delhi of today is a proud city of immigrants, notably people who fled from Pakistan after Independence in 1947, and who have turned it into a major business centre as well as a seat of government. Now it is a home of millions who throng here for work, especially from the poorer states of Bihar and Uttar Pradesh, as well as multi-national companies and others that have helped build the chaotic under-resourced satellite city of Gurgaon and the neater satellite of Noida. It is a city of energy, vibrancy, resourcefulness and skills — all more evident in old Delhi than the wide and elegant but rather antisocial Lutyens bungalow zone of the 20th century city. And it has a rapidly growing and efficient metro railway. But there is also worsening pollution, corruption, illegally dangerous buildings, poverty and the brash selfishness of the newly rich. But though often condemned by its residents, with the best-off usually saying they would prefer to live somewhere else, it is a place that people always come to with hopes and dreams, and that will continue, as will the links with the British. The views expressed in this column are of the author alone.

Dasra is changing the wayIndia looks at the business of giving

Those of us who did not pay attention in our Sanskrit classes would hardly understand the meaning of a word which struck a chord with Deval Sanghavi and Neera Nundi, Co-founders of Dasra. ‘Enlightened giving’ (or Dasra) is both the meaning and the motive of the organisation run by the investment bankers-turned-social entrepreneurs. After graduating from Austin, Texas, Sanghavi was working for Morgan Stanley (MS), where he met his future wife and partner, an NRI from Canada — Neera Nundi. While at MS, they would often sit and discuss ways in which they could put their banking experience to better use and help their home country. So we know it’s the banker in him doing the thinking when Sanghavi outlines the three principles his organisation follows: “understanding the various sectors in which they might want to direct their focus; figuring out the ground realities; and then helping the organisations with their three to five years management plan.” Dasra, which is a strategic philanthropy foundation, started in 1999 under the name Impact Partners, with the aim of helping social entrepreneurs start and eventually scale-up their endeavours. But later on, as they got ‘older and wiser’, they realised that greater impact would come if they also helped established NGOs scaleup, by providing them with managerial support and funding. “There are more than three million NGOs in India and only a handful of them are able to sustain themselves,” says Sanghavi. But this matter-offact tone changes to a happy one the moment he tells us that “Dasra has already directed over `54 crore from high net-worth individuals (HNIs) to fund and scale-up more than 200 NGOs and 50 social businesses in India.” But why would an NRI, raised outside India, start an organisation like Dasra? Sanghavi tells us that his parents belonged to Mumbai and therefore he would visit India quite often. He would notice the difference between his neighbours in the States and his neighbours in India. This stark contrast between the two countries and the lessons he learnt from his parents in his formative years had a huge impact on him. After finishing college and before joining MS, Sanghavi took a break and worked for an organisation helping street children in India. There he not only understood the plight of such children but also got inspired by their “resilience, motivation and aspiration.” This close contact with the harsh realities of life resulted in a shift in perspective and he returned to the States and joined MS. But the itch to work more for the not-for-profit sector made him start Dasra. From nine members to a 30-member team, the growth in scale has happened over the past three months. But even before they scaled-up, Dasra’s portfolio boasted of organisations and companies as diverse as Saher (a Mumbai-based NGO involved in youth empowerment and community cohesion) and Lotus hospitals (a social business that works on a low-margin, high volume model to provide affordable health services). But Dasra’s journey had its road bumps — it was a completely unique model for India and its philanthropists. A strategy-based model which asked people to invest in organisations and not individuals was completely unheard of and getting HNIs to invest in the sector was a big challenge initially. Sanghavi says that they would ask the HNIs to “spend 10-15 per cent of the their funding to this model and the rest 85 per cent remaining on whatever they were currently doing and see in a couple of years which created a greater impact.” A “learn as you grow” kind of model, Dasra is more focussed on impact than profit. They invest effort in an organisation after doing a complete background research and looking at its work strategy. Then they ask the HNIs to fund them to generate a field report, which is then presented to the philanthropists who finally fund the selected organisations. A percentage of this funding also goes into training personnel and setting the organisations’ managerial strategy for the next couple of years. The duo started Dasra with just USD 25,000 in their pockets and it’s been working for several years on a ‘shoestring budget’. Even today, though they have helped more than 200 NGOs scale-up, they are not making big profit. Yet their aspirations are bigger than ever. “Five years from now, we hope to have worked with 1,000 philanthropists and 1,500 social entrepreneurs,” says Sanghavi. Wanting to make philanthropy fashionable in the country, they are ready to set a new benchmark in the sector. And their fondest wish? Sanghavi says, “In a few years hopefully philanthropists and entrepreneurs would have started building teams, plans and executive models, without having Dasra do that for them.”

Pico Iyer‘s tribute to the great English writer, Graham Greene, coupled with his own story, is a great read

THE FIRST dilemma that arises in one’s mind while reading Pico Iyer’s The Man Within My Head is how to classify this book. It would be unfair to call it a travelogue even though Iyer talks extensively about his escapades in countries starting from Bhutan to Bolivia; and from a war-struck Sri Lanka to Cuba and Vietnam. You cannot just call it a biography or memoir because it’s more than that. It could be called literary criticism but, wait! There certainly is more to this book than mere criticism. Then where exactly does it fit and what is it all about? It is the story of Pico Iyer told through the man within his head — Graham Greene. It’s a tribute of sorts to the great English author and playwright, who, as Iyer puts it, is his “adopted father”. Iyer ponders over the strange similarities between him and Greene. Greene and the author both went to English public schools, both saw their houses burn down in a fire, both got defined as restless souls, both refused to settle down at a place and call it home and, most importantly, both were fascinated with the complications of faith. Despite the striking similarities, and the obvious admiration that Iyer has for Greene, he writes that he never “wanted his work to resemble Greene’s writings”. Yet a clear influence is visible through Iyer’s body of work. Iyer’s relationship with his adopted father is examined against his fraught relationship with his biological father, India’s first Rhodes scholar, philosopher and polymath, Raghavan Iyer. “Fathers who create us are much harder to forgive than the ones we create, in part because they’re much harder to escape” writes Iyer. Escape — a word whose fascination he shares with Greene — from himself and the people around him, the restlessness he feels within, everything is like a string that attaches him to Greene. Those not familiar with Greene may find it hard to understand some of the references in the book. Though Iyer is mostly a non-fiction writer, while penning down his thoughts and drawing the connections with the man within his head he uses the fiction writer’s ink in this book. The images that emerge are thought-provoking. Though the book may largely appear to be a tribute to Greene, it actually is Iyer’s own story — narrated in a stylised tone. It is a thoughtful, eloquent and honest book by one of our most resourceful explorers

The magic of Sherlock Holmes recreated! The game is afoot once again as Holmes is back with his most gruesome case ever

THE NEW Sherlock Holmes novel — The House of Silk — is not a tribute to the great man’s work, it’s not a continuation of his stories and it’s not an imitation. It is a brand new Sherlock Holmes novel, set in Victoria’s England, with familiar characters spouting similar lines and sporting familiar characteristics. Visit 221 B Baker Street yet again. Inside the house there’s the usual bunch — “Baker Street Irregulars” (remember Wiggins?), with Mrs Hudson and her scones, the rat-faced inspector Lestrade and the almighty Mycroft Holmes (brother to Sherlock) — all present in this new novel which received the nod from the Conan Doyle Estate, giving it a familiarity and tone which manages to strike a chord with the reader accustomed to Doyle’s creations, yet again. The setting of the novel is certainly age-old, and yet, the reader will also feel the difference of pace in Anthony Horowitz’s The House of Silk. Sherlock Holmes first made his appearance in the year 1887 in Beeton’s Christmas Annual, a paperback magazine printed in England annually between 1860 and 1898, founded by Samuel Orchart Beeton. The series was created by Scottish author and physician, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. Soon after the first story came out, the fictional ‘consulting detective’ — famous for his astute logical reasoning, his ability to take on almost any disguise, and his use of forensic science skills — became such a rage that fans from across the globe would write to the detective ‘living’ at 221 B Baker Street. Several of these letters were from children, seeking Holmes’ help. With such a loyal and dedicated fan base, it’s not erroneous to suppose that Holmes’ deerstalker cap is more talked of than Cleopatra’s nose in modern literature. So how does a new author manage to bear the burden of such a legacy? The answer is simple — by writing a fantastic detective novel, which is neither different from the old ones nor very similar. Horowitz manages to do that with great finesse. It is a Holmes adventure at its best. A wellwritten story with carefully etched characters and a plot knitted beautifully. The best bit is that Horowitz makes Sherlock his own, creating a story with a bit more action than Conan Doyle gave us. The story unfolds with two unrelated threads, the action builds and Horowitz captures your imagination. As is often the case, the chronicler is Dr Watson, narrating the story of one of “the most dangerous cases” taken up by them. A case which, as Watson puts it was “too shocking to be revealed until now”. It’s 1890 and Watson’s wife is out of town; so he is boarding yet again at 221 B Baker St with Holmes. At that time, a Mayfair arts dealer pays them a visit. He alleges that he is being followed by the only surviving member of an infamous Irish gang in America. Holmes recruits the newest member of the Irregulars — Ross — to guard the place where the gang member lives. After he leaves the scene, Ross is found brutally murdered, and thus begins the most challenging case in the history of Sherlock Holmes. Why did Ross die? Why were the dealer’s paintings burnt? Will Sherlock survive a case where every little step taken will take him closer to doom and destruction? The danger involved in the case is such that we see the great Mycroft — never known to pull himself out of his armchair at the Diogenes Club — pay a visit to Baker St with a warning: “stay away from the case or suffer a fate from which even you cannot be saved”. Soon enough, Mycroft’s predictions come true in more ways than one. For the older readership, the adventure saga will bring back the memories of a childhood spent solving mysteries with the great detective. For those reading Holmes for the first time — it’s not a bad start. If one likes mysteries at all, this is not one to miss. If you love Sherlock Holmes, this is a must read. Horowitz is already being considered the true heir of the Conan Doyle heritage. And this fast-paced, gripping and spine-chilling novel is proof that he is fit to follow in the famous doctor’s footsteps. So, wander in the dark and dingy lanes of fog-covered England, as the game is afoot, once again.

Tossed in olive oil and served with a smile, that’s the recipe for Ritu Dalmia’s robust cooking

Often the mention of an aura is pooh-poohed. But if there is indeed something of an energy around a person, then Ritu Dalmia has an impressive amount of it. Hers is a positive one which makes her look ahead, rather than meditate on the past. Perhaps that’s why standard questions about life and her journey so far are met with protests. “I believe mine has just begun. I have so much more to learn, see, taste and do,” Dalmia asserts. There are dos and don’ts when you are around one of the best-known celebrity chefs of our time. A major don’t is to refuse food: “Are you sure that you won’t even taste it, the dessert is freshly made,” she offers thrice during the course of our conversation. However, if one is persistent there are insights into the roads she has travelled down. “Ten years ago when people asked me about my journey, I used to feel like such a young genius. A cool kid, an untrained, self-taught chef. As I get older, I realise I have had many years behind me to get better. Has there been a journey? Yes, indeed. And it has been a fabulous one. I don't know what I would have done if I hadn’t become a chef. It’s so much fun and I even get paid for it.” Truly, it has been quite a ride for the untrained chef who owns three restaurants and has two books and telly shows in her kitty, and the Italians love her Italian khana, also the name of her first book published by Random House. So much so, that they presented her with the Order of the Star, a great national honour. Dalmia runs a small but packed café at the Italian Cultural Centre in New Delhi. The story of this Marwari girl from Kolkata, visiting Italy on a business trip (her family was in the marble tile trade), has been written several times over. It is well-known that young Dalmia was moved enough by the country’s farm-fresh food and the joie de vivre of its citizens, to return home and replicate the cuisine she had grown to love. Today, she has a long list of admirers, thanks to her style and flair. Several of them, such as journalist and food critic Vir Sanghvi, have penned robust testimonials which almost beat the Italian Pecorino (a particularly robust cheese, I am told). But that version leaves out the real spice in the story. Dalmia’s culinary journey began much before — at the age of nine. In good humour she credits her early start to the fact that she often had to fend for herself in the kitchen. “My mother’s a terrible cook. She knows that and is completely nonchalant about it. In her opinion she can’t be perfect always.” Jokes apart, Dalmia knew the saté from the sauté simply because she devoured recipe books as a child. “I had read every cookbook in the house. They were my comic books, and I would scan the recipes and pictures. I remember being more fascinated by Pak Pranali, a popular Marwari book on Continental cuisine, than Phantom.” Then there were the numerous “pacey” paperbacks by the Queen of the Indian Kitchen, the matronly Tarla Dalal (no Marwari kitchen is complete without them, Dalmia tells us.) When her parents would come home from tours (they are avid travellers, a gene that they’ve passed on to their daughter it seems), the young Dalmia would present a seven-course meal with the table set right, cutlery and crockery in place. As Dalmia says, “My pretensions were in place, even as a child. My mother says that half of what I cooked wasn’t edible. Or they would be too tired at that point to care about eating. But they knew I had toiled, so I was always praised.” Her parents still get the seven course meal once a month — at Diva. Dalmia, too, takes a break with kadi-chawal once a month in her mother’s kitchen. We had to ask Dalmia what the first dish that she ever served was. “I was nine. I made rice with baked beans and vegetables.” Quickly she adds that at nine one could be pardoned for thinking that baked beans were “the thing”. Despite these culinary forays, being a chef was not on the agenda at that point. “At 21, I made money working with my father. In the folly of my youth, I thought I would retire and start a restaurant. I clearly remember arguing with a friend who said that one needed to be a chef to start a restaurant. I believed one needed to have flair and taste.” (She still believes that and employs people who are more eager to learn than being trained.) “At 22, I started Mezzaluna, which flopped brilliantly.” That was in 1993, after Dalmia had come back from her Italian business-cum-pleasure trip and seen a famous countess, who ran a cookery school for American tourists, at work. Dalmia struggled with Mezzaluna and was forced to sell it after running at loss for two years. Perhaps India wasn’t ready for Mezzaluna and its mistress then. So, she crossed the seas to set up a successful fine-dining Indian restaurant, Vama, in London, with a friend. Though Vama did phenomenally well, home is were the solid Indian hearth is. Dalmia sold off her Vama stake to come back to Delhi in 2000. She struck gold the second time around with Diva, set up with an investment of `48 lakh (“I was cautious this time”). By then Indian palates and perceptions had changed considerably. Indians were not only eating out, they were treating food as the new entertainment. They cared if dishes were being plated right — quite a flip for a nation that didn’t really care as long as it tasted good. Books on cooking, though omnipresent in desi kitchens, were no longer just about the recipes; they were about the larger experience, ingredients and the joy of cooking. India was ready for Dalmia, and Diva, which began at the posh Greater Kailash in New Delhi. In India, there are only a handful of stand-alone restaurants that survive the long haul. Diva has. And, it has even thrived and grown to include a smaller café for the quick in-between meal. If you like your food to be pretentious then this is not the place for you. Dalmia’s signature style is fresh and wholesome ingredients plated piping hot, to be eaten with friends, family and a bottle of good wine. Obviously, this is a recipe for success, as one food blogger devoted quite some space to rhapsodies on Dalmia’s “shrimp, scallop skewer with a fennel and apple slaw”. Having travelled a winding path, resting ever so often to eat a hearty meal, one wonders what’s next? The usual stuff — start a new branch of Diva at Hauz Khas and an NDTV GoodTimes show on The Travelling Diva (her second book published by Hachette India). But the real fun starts when Dalmia gets to pack her bags and head off to New Zealand for 14 days. On her map are various eateries and wineries, but the French Café in Auckland tops her must-visit list. The café will host Dalmia the very evening she lands in the country. One can only hope that in between all that sipping and eating, she gets hit by a new recipe or her next Diva moment.