Maruti Suzuki’s sex change

Maruti Suzuki’s honchos have, after two years of repeated misdiagnoses, finally figured out what was wrong with their Manesar plant. It’s negative energy trapped inside. Well, that there was a lot of negative energy at that plant was well-known. So what’s new? The correct identification of the cause of the evil energy.

The negative energy came from the evil spirits that were angered by the razing of certain structures at the plant site a few years ago. To make matters worse, the plant did not have doors and windows at the right place for the negative energy to go out and for positive energy to come in. Fortunately, Maruti Suzuki’s leaders are blameless; the workers have nothing to do with it either. They are victims of this evil energy.

Once the cause was correctly identified, cure was simple. According to news reports, astrologer-cum-Vastu expert Deivajna K N Somayaji has already started the treatment. In three to four weeks the plant can function again without any problem.

This is a brilliant move by Maruti Suzuki’s management. You may accuse them of many things, but stupidity is not one of them. I congratulate them on this strategic decision and confidently predict absolute success.

My reason for such certainty, however, is not the correction in Vastu but the quiet sex change Maruti Suzuki will have undergone in the meanwhile. The plant that reopens will have a new management, a new set of workers, and the new location. No, I don’t mean Mamta Banerjee’s Paschim Bengal or Narendra Modi’s Gujarat. The plant will stay back at Manesar. Then what do I mean by a new location?

The environment around the plant has changed so much that it’s like a new location. The villages that supply workers to the plant have changed. The local politicians have changed. The Haryana government has changed. Within the plant, the workers have changed. The managers have changed.  The root cause of such a dramatic and widespread change is the horrible death of Maruti Suzuki’s HR manager, Awanish Kumar Dev.

Just as the self immolation of the Tunisian vegetable vendor Mohammed Bouazizi sparked the Arab spring, Dev’s murder within the plant altered everyone’s calculations fundamentally. Maruti Suzuki’s management realised that they couldn’t keep the plant open and risk another manager’s death. That would bring down the company. The workers realised that the game had gone from their hands. It was no longer a labour dispute that they could handle. They couldn’t expect support from the usual quarters. The panchayats around and the state politicians realised that the giant goose that had been laying golden eggs was in danger of dying. The public wooing from two chief ministers added a sense of urgency to everyone.

Maruti Suzuki has had a sex change. Deivajna Somayaji’s puja and architectural corrections will provide a huge fig leaf to hide it. The return of peace and productivity to the Manesar plant will be attributed to it. Our faith in the power of buildings to determine our fate will be reaffirmed. Everything will be well with Maruti Suzuki and Manesar. Everyone can go back to work pretending that they haven’t changed.

I think hiring Deivajna Somayaji was the best ever decision Maruti Suzuki took apart from the original decision to produce cars in India at a time when the only alternative Indians had were road boats called Ambassador, Padmini, and Gazelle.

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The photograph was retrieved from:  http://businesstoday.intoday.in/story/maruti-suzuki-union-leaders-in-custody-over-manesar-violence/1/186913.html

Rajesh Khanna’s (un)lucky home

What is the secret of Rajesh Khanna’s miraculous rise to unparalleled superstardom in the 1970s? No one knows. According to a July 24 Mumbai Mirror report, “Aashirwad was haunted,” however, the actor knew. It was because of the bungalow he had bought from fellow actor Rajendra Kumar.

The sea-facing bungalow on Carter Road had had a terrible reputation. Everyone in the neighbourhood knew it was haunted. Naturally, there were no buyers although the owner was willing to sell it below cost. That is when Rajendra Kumar bought it in the 1960s for just Rs 60,000 because he couldn’t afford anything better. Once he moved into the house, however, there was an inexplicable change in his fortunes. Every film in which he starred succeeded at the box office; he became ‘Jubilee Kumar.’ Rajesh Khanna was closely watching this success story from the sidelines. He believed that if he moved into the house he would be equally successful.

Rajendra Kumar did not seem to have attributed his spectacular success to the bhoot bungalow which he named Dimple, after his daughter. That is why, once he made enough money, he got a bungalow built at Pali Hill and moved there.

Rajesh Khanna bought the Carter Road bungalow and moved in. He knew success would follow him. And he was right. Every film he touched turned to gold. He got everything an actor could dream of – millions of adoring fans, astronomical fees, superstardom... 15 super hits in a row. All because of the lucky house.

Rajesh Khanna was sure of the role his house played in his miraculous rise. We don’t know if he changed his mind when, staying in the same house, he lost everything including his family. Perhaps he didn’t change his mind; he explained his reverses away as a temporary setback. Perhaps he believed that he would soar back to astrosphere where ownership and occupation of the Carter Road bungalow had taken him.

What has one’s house to do with one’s professional success or failure? Plenty if you believe that there is a causal link.

Was Rajesh Khanna superstitious? Do we have such superstitions influencing decision-making in the corporate world?

We are all superstitious. But we make a distinction. Our beliefs are well founded beliefs; others’ beliefs are silly superstitions. Our beliefs vary, but our faith in the validity of our beliefs stays strong.

Our personal and professional actions are anchored around our beliefs although, unlike Rajesh Khanna, we are reluctant to admit the link. That doesn’t take away our resistance when ideas that are at variance with our belief system are proposed. We are likely to give a perfectly logical reason why the idea should not be adopted, but the real reason is that it goes against our hidden beliefs. 


Photo credit: http://www.istockphoto.com/

How to have your cake and eat it too

When you pick up a packet of pasta for a carton of milk from the ‘organic’ section of the supermarket or from a health food shop, do you try to find out how many non-organic substances it may contain? Very unlikely. You trust the label, ‘Certified Organic.’ There must be a government-approved process that makes sure that only organic things get that coveted certificate and license to charge a hefty premium. You don't have to think. You don't have to ask. Someone else has done it for you.

Well, there is a process of certification. We also know that certification as organic allows the use of certain non-organic substances such as baking soda, without which you can’t make organic bread. In the US the list of permissible non-organic substances, however, grew from 77 in 2002 to more than 250 in 2012. How come?

According to a report (“Has ‘organic’ been oversized?” by Stephanie Strom) in the New York Times of July 7, 2012, Big Food has quietly invaded and colonised the organic foods space. Gradually they have come to dominate the National Organic Standards Board set up by the American government to determine what can be certified organic and what cannot be. Thus, instead of fresh food produced organically in small farms and consumed locally, Americans are now treated to countrywide brands such as Wholesome & Hearty, Walnut Acres, and Healthy Valley – all owned by Big Food that has been drawn there by the premium which discerning customers gladly pay. Giant agri-food corporations including Coca-Cola, PepsiCo, ConAgra, General Mills, Kellogg, Heinz, and Kraft have driven out most independent organic farmers after buying their brands. Those big companies shape the average consumer’s purchase decisions through influencing the certification process .

The more than threefold increase in the number of permissible non-organic substances during the last ten years closely matches the growth of Big Food’s influence in the certification process.

Big Food has its own cheaper standard products side-by-side with organic products under a variety of pastoral-something brand names. They make money through both these channels. Consumers who are tired and scared of the business practices of Big Food may think that when they buy organic milk or pasta, they support small farms. What they buy may be safe; but they might not be willing to pay a premium for those products if they knew more about the certification process.

Companies and governments exploit our blind faith in certain processes and reluctance to ask questions. They persuade us gently to do many things that we would not want to if we knew the inside story. 


Photocredit: http://istockphoto.com/

Ignorance is Bliss

Recently I was sitting in a restaurant. I wanted to order the day’s special soup. One reason was laziness. I didn't want to evaluate the four or five soups listed on the menu card and choose one. In spite of investing all my investigative energies in the selection process, I might end up with a concoction that I didn't like. The second reason was the promise in the magic word, ‘special.’ I felt this was the soup the chef would devote special attention to while the other soups would be routine affairs. I quickly made up my mind and told my friend that I'd go for the day’s special.

To my utter surprise, he laughed. I detected a tinge of superciliousness in his laughter. Before I could figure out why he laughed at my sensible suggestion, he said very firmly, almost imperiously, “Never order the day’s special in any restaurant.”  Still dazed, I looked at him with a “Why not?” in my eyes. “This is how they get rid of their stale stuff,” he replied with the self-assurance of schoolboy.

I don't know where he got this information from. I don't know if there is any truth in this allegation. But it got me thinking. I won't be surprised if restaurants dress up their stale stuff and get rid of it in a fashion that makes the guests feel delighted and privileged. Sellers who get rid of unwanted stuff routinely use smart framing to make the buyers feel that they are getting something special.

I was reminded of my mother who fed us kids with limited resources during the late 50s and early 60s when we had no power and so no fridge at home, in a small Kerala village. She would put finely chopped onions, green chillies, and curry leaves into dosa batter and make uttappam on the third day (if any batter was left over by then) and present it as a special treat.  We loved it and looked forward to it. It took me years to discover that unrefrigerated batter would be so sour by the third day it would be no fun eating dosa made of it.

Uttappam was a way to save the overfermented batter.  Did it matter? Not at all. For us it was an improvement on plain dosa.

Both these incidents came to my mind as I read last week about a YouTube video showing two top Pakistani anchors (Mubashir Lucman and Meher Bukhari of Dunya TV) coaching controversial real estate tycoon Malik Riaz Hussain on how to answer their questions. The whole two-hour ‘live’ TV interview was, in essence, scripted like some cricket matches.

I wonder how many fierce looking media encounters are genuine. While we enjoy scripted fiction, we have trouble enjoying scripted reality. The framing just doesn't look okay. Perhaps the old saying is right: “Ignorance is bliss.”

Photo credit: http://www.istockphoto.com