Some like it hot: India's invader - An article on the Tata group

When Jamsetji Tata, perhaps India's most revered industrialist, aired the idea of starting the subcontinent's first steel mill in 1907, Sir Frederick Upcott, the British commissioner of railways in India, seemed to think it was no more than hot air. He is said to have remarked at the time that he would "eat every pound of steel rail" the plant produced.
So executives at the Mumbai headquarters of Tata Steel, the country's largest steel producer, could be forgiven a chuckle after the board of Corus, the former British Steel, recommended Tata's audacious £5.1bn bid last week. If shareholders back the offer, the deal will be worth more than three-quarters the combined value of all previous foreign acquisitions by Indian companies.
Yet Tata Steel is just a small part of the massive empire of Tata Group, which numbers more than 100 companies and is now pursuing an aggressive push beyond its domestic borders. It is virtually impossible in India to get through the day without somehow adding a few rupees to Tata's coffers. Cup of tea? How about a drop of Tetley, which the company bought in 2000, served in a mug made by Tata Ceramics? How about a holiday? Try a stay in one of the five-star properties run by the Taj Hotels and Resorts, the country's largest luxury chain and also part of the group. The heaving streets of Mumbai are clogged with cars and trucks made by Tata Motors; the new skyscrapers puncturing the city's skyline are built with Tata Steel.
The group, which was started as a trading firm by Jamsetji Tata in 1868, today accounts for 2.5 per cent of India's GDP. It is majority owned by a Tata family trust that funds a range of initiatives including hospitals, universities and disaster relief.
Yet for all its ubiquity at home, Tata is still relatively unknown abroad. Until now. If the purchase of Tetley, once famous for its Yorkshire "tea folk" marketing campaigns, was its coming-out party in the UK, the offer for Corus, a company four times the size of Tata Steel, is its coming-out to the world.
Under the 68-year-old Ratan Tata, who took over as chairman in 1991, the group has been an active buyer of businesses, but these have generally been small. Now, fuelled by an economy that Standard & Poor's predicts will grow at 7.5 per cent annually for the next few years, and by a sudden willingness on the part of international banks to lend to acquisition-minded Indian enterprises, Tata is looking beyond its borders like never before.
None of the group's sprawling portfolio of companies encapsulates its growth and ambition more than Tata Consultancy Services (TCS). Already the largest of India's booming information technology outsourcing companies, it writes software, runs call centres and manages back-office systems for an array of big international names, including Virgin Atlantic and Alliance Boots in the UK, and Lehman Brothers and retail giant Target in the US. It accounts for roughly half of the group's $49.1bn (£26.1bn) market value and has set itself the goal of growing annual turnover from $2.9bn last year to $10bn by 2010.
To do so, TCS is in the midst of a massive recruitment drive. Within the next 12 months, it expects to hire 30,000 engineers - more than a third of its current workforce of 78,000 - at a rate of around 100 people every day. While some critics worry about such breakneck expansion, bigger rivals such as IBM and Accenture are pushing into India and domestic competitors Infosys and Wipro are growing at similar rates. And for now the market loves TCS, giving it about the same market value as Accenture, though the latter has six times the turnover.
S Ramadorai, the avuncular chief executive, who started at TCS over three decades ago as a trainee engineer, acknowledges the scale of the task but exudes complete confidence that the plans will work. "Our biggest challenge is managing growth," he says in an interview at his 11th-floor office in the Air India building in Mumbai. (JRD Tata, an aviation enthusiast who led the company for five decades after Jamsetji died, started Air India. It was later nationalised by the Indian government.) "It does get harder day in and day out, but then good companies will always attract the numbers."
Much of the growth will come in the city of Chennai, a technology hub where many international and domestic firms have set up shop. After a job fair earlier this year, TCS received over 26,000 applications in one day. Using the kind of automation software it sells to clients, it whittled down the pool to 13,000 candidates, who were then tested. A week and a few thousand interviews later, it offered jobs to around 1,000.
Wages for Indian engineers are on the rise and the number of companies providing similar services is increasing. As that happens, the cost advantages enjoyed by TCS and its ilk will erode. So the company is betting that the future lies in a shift of focus from low-cost outsourcing to hi-tech innovation and consulting, which can be sold at a premium to Western clients.
Like much of Indian industry, TCS is in transition: instead of making someone else's widgets, it wants to design them. For example, it is putting the finishing touches to an airline innovation lab in Chennai, where executives can walk into a room mocked up as the interior of a commercial jet and test-drive new software or any other ideas the company is coming up with.
Ramadorai says TCS is open to more acquisitions "when it makes sense", but that it will not buy companies that might dent its chunky 25 per cent margins. TCS looked at Vertex, the call-centre business now being auctioned by United Utilities in the UK, but walked away because its 3 per cent margins were too low. Instead, it is scouring low-cost markets such as South America and Eastern Europe.
Analysts expect TCS to list in either the US or London within the next couple of years as a way of increasing its profile and beefing up its balance sheet.
Yet looking out from the top floor of one of TCS's innovation centres on the "IT highway" - a road through Chennai that houses numerous technology companies - one can't help but be struck by the obstacles that stand before it. The IT highway, for one thing, looks anything but.
Across the street from TCS's sleek brick-and-glass building, which would not be out of place in Silicon Valley, a naked, emaciated child squats defecating on the side of the road. The highway is flanked by thatched huts and open ditches, while motorised rickshaws jostle among the tangle of cars and cows on the potholed road. The government promised years ago to improve the thoroughfare, but roadworks lie abandoned. Criss-crossing the city is an unfinished elevated railway system, the empty stations serving as temporary shelter for the homeless.
In contrast to China, where big infrastructure projects are relentlessly pushed, things here move at a glacial pace. "In the next few years, they need to build a lot more roads, a lot more ports, a lot more everything," says Standard & Poor's analyst Ping Chew. "When they build new highways, they're almost coming to capacity as soon as they are done."
Whether or not such projects get off the ground, Tata is used to the government being more hindrance than help.
Consider the story of the Taj Mahal Hotel in Mumbai, a palatial building on the waterfront. In the early 1900s, Jamsetji Tata was already a successful businessman, yet he was, so legend goes, denied entrance to a British hotel because he was Indian. So he decided to build his own. When it opened in 1903, the Taj Mahal was the first hotel in India to have electricity; it remains the group's flagship property.
"There is a very strong pioneering sprit here," says one TCS executive. "We all grew up with Tata soap and Tata shampoo." And if the group has its way, Tata will become a hosehold name in the rest of the world too.

Source:The Independent [22 Oct 2006]

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Why should we welcome the stock market crash

Economics assumes that human beings are rational. But human reactions to stock market movements are utterly irrational. When markets rise, everybody cheers. When markets crash — as has been the case for two weeks — everybody moans.

A hunt for culprits often ensues. No such hunt is ever announced when the markets are rising. In past scams, when manipulators like Harshad Mehta and Ketan Parekh sent share prices through the roof, they were hailed as geniuses and became celebrities. Some market experts cautioned that the markets had shot up to insane levels. But this plea for sanity was widely dismissed as stupid, and ordinary housewives and college kids bought frenziedly in the belief that share prices could only go up.

However, when the markets inevitably fell, the hero-manipulators were suddenly denounced as villains. They were accused of the dreadful sin of rigging markets, and thus misleading small investors. Ironically, no investor complained as long as the manipulators rigged prices upward.

The complaints began only when the manipulators were unable to rig markets any more, and prices crashed. Truth be told, the real public complaint against Harshad Mehta and Ketan Parekh was not that they manipulated prices upward, but that they failed to manipulate it upward forever. For that, this could not be forgiven.

The underlying assumption of small investors is that share prices should rise forever. Now, if the price of rice, sugar or petrol rose forever, the small investor would complain bitterly. Yet he seems to think it perfectly fair that share prices should go up forever, and very unfair if share prices crash. How greedy and hypocritical humans are!

Consider the current moaning over the stock market crash. The fall of the sensex from 12,624 to 10,400 represents a sharp 20% decline within two weeks. But few people seem to remember that sensex was at just 9,390 at the start of 2006. So, even after the crash last Monday, the sensex was still up 10.5% since the start of the year. No bonds or fixed deposits could give such a high return within five months. This point escapes the CPI(M), which sees the market crash as reason enough to stop pension funds from investing in equities.

Remember that the sensex was around 5,000 during the last general election in 2004. It then slumped to 4,282 on panic selling. From that low point, the sensex tripled in two years to 12,624 on May 10, 2006. That has been a bonanza, fuelling speculative frenzy. So, the 20% correction is to be welcomed. Stock market valuations remained stretched by historical standards, though not by developed market standards. If the sensex falls all the way to the 9.390 level at the start of the year, the market would still have yielded enormous gains to investors since 2004.

The long run prospects of the economy are excellent. So, some investor exuberance is understandable. Yet such exuberance needs to be tempered by sharp corrections from time to time. This sends the valuable message that exuberance is no substitute for judgement.

Human beings quote many aphorisms that they seem to forget when they enter the stock market. All that glitters is not gold. Don’t be penny-wise and pound-foolish. Look before you leap. There is no such thing as a free lunch. Better safe than sorry. A fool and his money are soon parted.

All who invest in markets must remember these aphorisms. Risk and reward go together. If there were no risk, there would be no market reward. Share prices represent subjective judgements of the day, so bouts of euphoria and depression will necessarily drive share prices up and down.

Marxists find this terrible. They deplore “casino capitalism”, and lambaste foreign institutional investors (FIIs). Marxists cannot bear to acknowledge that FII pressure has sparked capital market reforms that have made Indian markets among the best in the developing world, far ahead of China or South Korea. FIIs were earlier reluctant to invest in a market where one-tenth of all paper share certificates were forged, settlements were delayed for months on end, and thin turnover facilitated rigging by big brokers (and by companies before every public issue).

But after capital market reforms, FIIs have flooded in. They have invested in all emerging markets, but disproportionately more in India. They have favoured companies with good governance and transparent accounting, rewarding these traits for the first time (earlier, the ability to rig markets was rewarded most). Stock market reforms and FII inflows have hugely improved the ability of Indian companies to raise equity finance for expansion. This has reduced their dependence on debt, thus reducing interest rates as well as over-leveraged balance sheets.

The CPI(M) can see none of this. It believes only that foreign devils are making millions and paying no tax. So it demands a capital gains tax and an end to the Mauritius treaty that has been used as a tax loophole by FIIs. The CPI(M) seems unaware that Mr P Chidambaram is in fact taxing dividends and capital gains in ways that have made the Mauritius loophole irrelevant, and so ensured that FIIs are indeed taxed.

Dividend tax is now paid by companies rather than recipients; so FIIs cannot avoid it. A transactions turnover tax is being collected in lieu of capital gains tax. This brings all investors including FIIs into the tax net, and the Mauritius route has been rendered irrelevant. Domestic crooks used to avoid capital gains tax through benami small accounts, but now cannot escape the transactions tax. Thus Mr Chidambaram has ended tax avoidance and evasion, brought FIIs and Indian crooks into the tax net indirectly, and created a level tax playing field between domestic and foreign investors. That is a considerable achievement.

So, our problem today is not untaxed FIIs. It is the notion that markets should rise forever. They will not, and should not. We need sharp dips, not Marxist controls, to remind investors from time to time that stock markets have risks as well as rewards.

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You've got to find what you love

This is the text of the Commencement address by Steve Jobs, CEO of Apple Computer and of Pixar Animation Studios, delivered on June 12, 2005.

I am honored to be with you today at your commencement from one of the finest universities in the world. I never graduated from college. Truth be told, this is the closest I've ever gotten to a college graduation. Today I want to tell you three stories from my life. That's it. No big deal. Just three stories.

The first story is about connecting the dots.

I dropped out of Reed College after the first 6 months, but then stayed around as a drop-in for another 18 months or so before I really quit. So why did I drop out?

It started before I was born. My biological mother was a young, unwed college graduate student, and she decided to put me up for adoption. She felt very strongly that I should be adopted by college graduates, so everything was all set for me to be adopted at birth by a lawyer and his wife. Except that when I popped out they decided at the last minute that they really wanted a girl. So my parents, who were on a waiting list, got a call in the middle of the night asking: "We have an unexpected baby boy; do you want him?" They said: "Of course." My biological mother later found out that my mother had never graduated from college and that my father had never graduated from high school. She refused to sign the final adoption papers. She only relented a few months later when my parents promised that I would someday go to college.And 17 years later I did go to college. But I naively chose a college that was almost as expensive as Stanford, and all of my working-class parents' savings were being spent on my college tuition. After six months, I couldn't see the value in it. I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life and no idea how college was going to help me figure it out. And here I was spending all of the money my parents had saved their entire life. So I decided to drop out and trust that it would all work out OK. It was pretty scary at the time, but looking back it was one of the best decisions I ever made. The minute I dropped out I could stop taking the required classes that didn't interest me, and begin dropping in on the ones that looked interesting.

It wasn't all romantic. I didn't have a dorm room, so I slept on the floor in friends' rooms, I returned coke bottles for the 5¢ deposits to buy food with, and I would walk the 7 miles across town every Sunday night to get one good meal a week at the Hare Krishna temple. I loved it. And much of what I stumbled into by following my curiosity and intuition turned out to be priceless later on. Let me give you one example:

Reed College at that time offered perhaps the best calligraphy instruction in the country. Throughout the campus every poster, every label on every drawer, was beautifully hand calligraphed. Because I had dropped out and didn't have to take the normal classes, I decided to take a calligraphy class to learn how to do this. I learned about serif and san serif typefaces, about varying the amount of space between different letter combinations, about what makes great typography great. It was beautiful, historical, artistically subtle in a way that science can't capture, and I found it fascinating.

None of this had even a hope of any practical application in my life. But ten years later, when we were designing the first Macintosh computer, it all came back to me. And we designed it all into the Mac. It was the first computer with beautiful typography. If I had never dropped in on that single course in college, the Mac would have never had multiple typefaces or proportionally spaced fonts. And since Windows just copied the Mac, its likely that no personal computer would have them. If I had never dropped out, I would have never dropped in on this calligraphy class, and personal computers might not have the wonderful typography that they do. Of course it was impossible to connect the dots looking forward when I was in college. But it was very, very clear looking backwards ten years later.

Again, you can't connect the dots looking forward; you can only connect them looking backwards. So you have to trust that the dots will somehow connect in your future. You have to trust in something — your gut, destiny, life, karma, whatever. This approach has never let me down, and it has made all the difference in my life.

My second story is about love and loss.

I was lucky — I found what I loved to do early in life. Woz and I started Apple in my parents garage when I was 20. We worked hard, and in 10 years Apple had grown from just the two of us in a garage into a $2 billion company with over 4000 employees. We had just released our finest creation — the Macintosh — a year earlier, and I had just turned 30. And then I got fired. How can you get fired from a company you started? Well, as Apple grew we hired someone who I thought was very talented to run the company with me, and for the first year or so things went well. But then our visions of the future began to diverge and eventually we had a falling out. When we did, our Board of Directors sided with him. So at 30 I was out. And very publicly out. What had been the focus of my entire adult life was gone, and it was devastating.

I really didn't know what to do for a few months. I felt that I had let the previous generation of entrepreneurs down - that I had dropped the baton as it was being passed to me. I met with David Packard and Bob Noyce and tried to apologize for screwing up so badly. I was a very public failure, and I even thought about running away from the valley. But something slowly began to dawn on me — I still loved what I did. The turn of events at Apple had not changed that one bit. I had been rejected, but I was still in love. And so I decided to start over.

I didn't see it then, but it turned out that getting fired from Apple was the best thing that could have ever happened to me. The heaviness of being successful was replaced by the lightness of being a beginner again, less sure about everything. It freed me to enter one of the most creative periods of my life.

During the next five years, I started a company named NeXT, another company named Pixar, and fell in love with an amazing woman who would become my wife. Pixar went on to create the worlds first computer animated feature film, Toy Story, and is now the most successful animation studio in the world. In a remarkable turn of events, Apple bought NeXT, I retuned to Apple, and the technology we developed at NeXT is at the heart of Apple's current renaissance. And Laurene and I have a wonderful family together.

I'm pretty sure none of this would have happened if I hadn't been fired from Apple. It was awful tasting medicine, but I guess the patient needed it. Sometimes life hits you in the head with a brick. Don't lose faith. I'm convinced that the only thing that kept me going was that I loved what I did. You've got to find what you love. And that is as true for your work as it is for your lovers. Your work is going to fill a large part of your life, and the only way to be truly satisfied is to do what you believe is great work. And the only way to do great work is to love what you do. If you haven't found it yet, keep looking. Don't settle. As with all matters of the heart, you'll know when you find it. And, like any great relationship, it just gets better and better as the years roll on. So keep looking until you find it. Don't settle.

My third story is about death.

When I was 17, I read a quote that went something like: "If you live each day as if it was your last, someday you'll most certainly be right." It made an impression on me, and since then, for the past 33 years, I have looked in the mirror every morning and asked myself: "If today were the last day of my life, would I want to do what I am about to do today?" And whenever the answer has been "No" for too many days in a row, I know I need to change something.

Remembering that I'll be dead soon is the most important tool I've ever encountered to help me make the big choices in life. Because almost everything — all external expectations, all pride, all fear of embarrassment or failure - these things just fall away in the face of death, leaving only what is truly important. Remembering that you are going to die is the best way I know to avoid the trap of thinking you have something to lose. You are already naked. There is no reason not to follow your heart.

About a year ago I was diagnosed with cancer. I had a scan at 7:30 in the morning, and it clearly showed a tumor on my pancreas. I didn't even know what a pancreas was. The doctors told me this was almost certainly a type of cancer that is incurable, and that I should expect to live no longer than three to six months. My doctor advised me to go home and get my affairs in order, which is doctor's code for prepare to die. It means to try to tell your kids everything you thought you'd have the next 10 years to tell them in just a few months. It means to make sure everything is buttoned up so that it will be as easy as possible for your family. It means to say your goodbyes.

I lived with that diagnosis all day. Later that evening I had a biopsy, where they stuck an endoscope down my throat, through my stomach and into my intestines, put a needle into my pancreas and got a few cells from the tumor. I was sedated, but my wife, who was there, told me that when they viewed the cells under a microscope the doctors started crying because it turned out to be a very rare form of pancreatic cancer that is curable with surgery. I had the surgery and I'm fine now.

This was the closest I've been to facing death, and I hope its the closest I get for a few more decades. Having lived through it, I can now say this to you with a bit more certainty than when death was a useful but purely intellectual concept:

No one wants to die. Even people who want to go to heaven don't want to die to get there. And yet death is the destination we all share. No one has ever escaped it. And that is as it should be, because Death is very likely the single best invention of Life. It is Life's change agent. It clears out the old to make way for the new. Right now the new is you, but someday not too long from now, you will gradually become the old and be cleared away. Sorry to be so dramatic, but it is quite true.

Your time is limited, so don't waste it living someone else's life. Don't be trapped by dogma — which is living with the results of other people's thinking. Don't let the noise of others' opinions drown out your own inner voice. And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become. Everything else is secondary.

When I was young, there was an amazing publication called The Whole Earth Catalog, which was one of the bibles of my generation. It was created by a fellow named Stewart Brand not far from here in Menlo Park, and he brought it to life with his poetic touch. This was in the late 1960's, before personal computers and desktop publishing, so it was all made with typewriters, scissors, and polaroid cameras. It was sort of like Google in paperback form, 35 years before Google came along: it was idealistic, and overflowing with neat tools and great notions.

Stewart and his team put out several issues of The Whole Earth Catalog, and then when it had run its course, they put out a final issue. It was the mid-1970s, and I was your age. On the back cover of their final issue was a photograph of an early morning country road, the kind you might find yourself hitchhiking on if you were so adventurous. Beneath it were the words: "Stay Hungry. Stay Foolish." It was their farewell message as they signed off. Stay Hungry. Stay Foolish. And I have always wished that for myself. And now, as you graduate to begin anew, I wish that for you.

Stay Hungry. Stay Foolish.

Thank you all very much.