Investigating the Maruti fiasco

 

"Maruti's Manesar plant GM(HR) burned to death, 91 workers arrested"

"Violence at Maruti Suzuki's Manesar plant: Workers used shock absorbers to damage cars"

"Maruti Suzuki’s Manesar plant violence: Time to bring trade union leaders of under graft law"

Here was one headline I found hard to ignore. It caught my eye thanks to two reasons. First, I love this sector. If you have visited this blog before, you would notice that most of my thought process has been limited to automobiles, roads and such things. Second, I have seen this industry real close thanks to my father. He has been in this sector even before I realized that my thumb had functionalities other than satiating my toothless mouth.

So it really saddened me to read of the demise of a HR manager and that too in such a manner. The other managers were robbed off their dignity when they were assaulted with automotive parts, suspension rods and what not.

What just happened here? Was it a management failure or a natural outcome of the suppressed class that had been wronged all these years? Or is it an act of by socialist propogadists enticing people or worse: was it the the reds? Or had the Nazis resurfaced after all these years from their hiding?

To make a fair start, and more importantly to ensure that I am not assassinated by the radicals, let us admit that Suzuki does not come out 100% clean. I have seen the way my father deals with labor issues. At times I've complained that he's being too slow or not acted fully in the guise of being 'careful'. At times I even wonder why trivial issues are brought to his office. But now I see the difference. Our countrymen at leadership positions do understand the dynamics of our country. India is a case of wrong people empowered, politically connected and a legal system which contrary to the public opinion is biased to the supposedly weak and oppressed. The Japanese on the other hand regard employees as individuals who are paid to do their jobs: period. If there's any problem with your job, expect consequences. Which is fair but then this attempt to confront the traditional Indian way of things may not go down very well. Also there's an article from a friend in economic times showing the wage percentage (of total cost) increase graph of suzuki lagging behind that of Hero Honda.

Having said that, nothing justifies what happened. Inspite of all its aggressive and to the point management style, I'd still give Suzuki a clan chit. So who is to blame??

The way I see it:

1. The People

2. Real Estate bubble

3. Political games

1. The People 

First the people. Let's start with their demands. Check out this article. Even if the numbers here are exaggerated, let us accept the fact that the workers want a salary increase beyond 20 k a month. Let's get some clarity by putting things into perspective. 20k is the amount that an average software engineer makes when he\she has graduated and just joined. He\she might just have an education loan and would be posted in a city that boasts of a higher cost of living (Bangalore is more expensive than Manesar or Bhiwadi for sure). 20k or less is what an engineer makes in a decent production firm. I wonder where the blue collar gets the idea of such demands. One fact I can present to you is that the worker body has learnt to read the balance sheets. Though they are more informed, the mentality is yet to evolve. I heard a manager in my dad's circles who was telling me how hard it was to shake the workers of their socialist mentality. According to them, the entire profit was rightfully theirs and ought to be distributed to them without any delay. Investments, maintaining a cash pile and any form of reserve and surplus accounts are all bull for these guys.

2. Real Estate bubble

The second factor I would like to bring forward is the real estate bubble. Though the impact is not direct, its impact is quite significant in the long run.

The population in this region has seen many amongst their own become rich overnight. Those labor intensive fields have been handed over to builders for truck loads of cash, flashy houses and SUV's. The consumption pattern has changed drastically. The workers residing here are dissatified seeing their kin, their neighbors moving up in life. Hence, they feel money has got quicker and their employers are depriving them of the above mentioned lifestyle. Why, my mother's driver is unhappy with his phone and his vehicle. As a matter of fact, upon inquiring I found out that the phone and motorcycle on his wishlist are the same or beyond my wishlist.

3. Political games

As we are clear about the rising desires, we need just a match to set a firestorm. And that spark was provided by the political clergy. Of the little I have conversed with union leaders: be it directly or indirectly, one thing is crystal clear. They are politically connected. Imagine an average worker who has a family waiting at home, who has moved up in life compared to his fellow village-folk after completing basic education and managing to get a job in a company everyone back at home loves to talk about. Now imagine the same fellow trying to instigate violence knowing very well of the consequences. Nope. Not happening. A person who would charge would be someone who knows that come what may, there's someone backing him (his backer did abandon him later, but he did not know this earlier). Politics is everywhere: in parliaments, in corporate offices and even in houses. However, the cronies chosen by our political class are the ones who are notorious enough to be carry out their deeds. These cronies are the most dangerous lot. They have fewer brain cells than you would find in a mosquito and they are stupidly reckless. Try stopping a lane jumper at the gurgaon toll plaza. 'Jaanta nahi main kaun hoon? Yeh XYZ MLA ki gaadi hai.'

Though I have little proof, by virtue of my vicinity to this sector- I have no doubt that it is creatures of this kind who started this. I've seen this plenty of such creatures to be talked out of my judgement.

Having said that, I still blame the rest of the workers for blindly following these idiots and not standing up against a few.

My suggestion to Suzuki:

Please uphold your decision to suspend the entire lot. Sometimes, it is fair to give a jolt to ensure that people wake up to reality.

More importantly, if it does not have enormous financial or strategic implications, stop investing in Haryana. Start disinvestment if possible. You do not have to be nice enough to care about a state after all this.

Sure, if you guys still think Suzuki is evil: you are welcome to join my new soon to be founded car company. To cater to the price sensitive Indian market, I will build cars from mud houses and scrap metal. To motivate people to work better 20 hours a day (and keeping costs low at the same time), I would use whips, boiling oil and the oriental torture techniques.

So the choice is with you people: embrace the MNCs or come work with me or worse: with those crony capitalists. 

Turn the Page: Mumbai to Delhi

All the same 'ole cliches: is it real? Is it done?
And you always seem outnumbered, you dare not make a stand,

But, make your stand.

There was a lot of thought process that went behind this trip. The same story again. Too impractical, too risky and too exhausting.  A lot many took this idea too seriously and tried to talk me out of it. But then, I have always found great humor in the fact that we take ourselves too seriously about things like career, certifications and social status. Here I am, thinking of wasting precious man-hours to ride from Mumbai to Delhi. No matter what I get out of this, I know I am not going to forget this. This has to be one of those times when I would let the heart rule over the mind.. So:

Day 1:

On a long and lonesome highway east of Omaha
You can listen to the engines, moanin' out it's one old song
You can think about the woman, or the girl you knew the night before

7:30 in the morning and I had almost escaped from Mumbai. Soon the UT of Daman came up. All that I’d heard about this place turned out to be quite apt: many shady places with the sole USP of cheap booze.

You and I have heard and read a lot about Gujarat and my; come noon: I was not disappointed at all.. The roads remain spectacular and the rapid industrialization is very apparent. Critics may say that I’m travelling on the NH8 and all that I see is the Centre’s effort. Agreed but then, Gujarat has managed to make use of the centre’s help and implement the projects better than others..

The capital: Ahmedabad is truly growing at a phenomenal pace and even the outer roads are brilliant. My only complaint is that bikes are not allowed on the Ahmedabad- Baroda (Vadodara) expressway. The sister city of Gandhinagar was avoided and as the sun tired out, even I could sense my concentration waning. So I stopped for a late lunch at a highway dhaba.

But your thoughts will soon be wandering the way they always do
When you're riding sixteen hours and there's nothing much to do
You don't feel much like ridin', you just wish the trip was through

A scary situation presented itself beyond the town Himmatnagar: a border town of Gujarat. There had been little inhabitation since a long time and miraculously, the fuel pumps had vanished. This was a matter of concern, since at that opportune hour, I had little fuel left. As I put my grey cells into use, the mystery unfolded. The obvious explanation was that I was nearing the state of Rajasthan which might have priced fuel a lot lower than Gujarat (this theory was confirmed sometime later). Hence the political & economic dynamics had wiped out all the pumps in this region; the regulars on the highway would prefer driving to Rajasthan to refuel. Some truckers even carry fuel in alternative storages from states where it is cheaper. However, I am not a regular; nor am I a trucker. Hence I was in a big problem. I changed my cruising speed to make the most out of every drop of fuel.

In what seemed like eternity, I finally saw a board welcoming me to Rajasthan. Sure enough, there were a handful of pumps offering fuel. I stopped at the first and filled my tank. However, I noticed a changed note of the engine. Closer analysis revealed a crack in the silencer.. Shoot..

I did a detailed check and figured out there was nothing much I could do besides allowing it to cool and then carrying on. The petrol attendant watched me and we struck a conversation:

A: Sirjee, Kahan se?

M: Mumbai..

A: Driving since yesterday? Bike?? !!

I gave my starting time of today and the fellow dolted like a rabbit. He came back a minute later with his buddies and a person who seemed like the manager. The gang got into a deep conversation about my journey and insisted that I join them for tea and ‘snakes’.

But here I am, on the road again
There I am, up on the stage
There I go, playing the star again
There I go, turn the page

The friendly banter had to be concluded as the shadows lengthened and grew fainter. I mounted the bike and gunned the engine in an attempt to beat the sun. Alas, the sun went down and the headlamps lit up the tarmac. More than the night, the erratic behaviour of the Rajasthan soil scared me. I had read that sand gains and loses heat quickly. Tonight, it was out to prove this. The temperature dropped with each passing minute and soon my teeth were chattering with cold. The exhaust system had totally given up and the engine sounded as if it were propelling a dirt bike. I finally made it to Udaipur at 7:30pm. After a quick shower, I drove around town to refresh my memories of the lake, palace and the Sukhadia circle (Tip: Never get conned into going to Sukhadia circle; it’s pathetic). May I take this opportunity to recommend the ‘Natraj’ hotel’s thali’ which is rightfully a local legend.

Day 2

The ride started at 6:15 am and my: it was chilly. Same ol’ story: hands shivering, teeth chattering and the body yearning  for warmth amidst the freezing wind. At 10, I couldn’t take it anymore and had to stop at a dhaba for something hot before Ajmer.

You walk into a restaurant, strung out from the road
And you feel the eyes upon you, as you're shaking off the cold
You pretend it doesn't bother you, but you just want to explode
And most times you can't hear 'em talk, other times you can

Within an hour, I was subject to the other extreme: the sun shone relentlessly and burnt quite some of my skin. Ajmer to Jaipur is the best of NH-8 and if you’re driving below 100 kmph, you run the risk of being labelled a slow-poke and being run over. Sadly, the Jaipur- Delhi stretch is a big mess. The 6 laning project is on and ensures that there are innumerous bottlenecks and craters. The last 200 kms really shook me up; and my bike as well. At 4:10pm, I reached the airport with a slightly dislodged tail lamp, front fender and of course: the broken exhaust system. For a wretchedly used 5 year old bike, I’d say its still aging gracefully.

Out there in the spotlight, your a million miles away
Every ounce of energy, you try to give away
And the sweat pours out your body, like the music that you play
Later in the evening, as you lie awake in bed
With the echoes of the amplifiers, ringin' in your head
You smoke the days last cigarette, rememberin' what she said
What she said

Another philosophical journey comes to an end. In the last 2 days, I got time to look into myself, view my life as an outsider: the events, agents and circumstances.. Come to terms with the past and most importantly, get myself ready for the next phase of life…