What does seeing Mallya at a London event say about the elephant in the room?
Rarely does life offer a writer the opportunity of experiencing, first-hand, irony that is so sublime it is near impossible to capture it in words. But words are always worth the effort. So here goes. On the evening of June 16, I was at the London School of Economics’ Old Theatre, in the heart of central London.
Marketing man Suhel Seth’s book Mantras For Success - India’s Greatest CEOs Tell You How To Win was being launched, in an event co-hosted by the South Asia Centre at the LSE and the Indian High Commission.
At the entrance to the launch I leafed through a copy of the book on display. There were chapters full of tried-and-tested advice and commentary on the Indian business scene, each assigned to a well-known Indian CEO.
There was a reasonably long roster of names, ranging from Ratan Tata to Mukesh Ambani to Kiran Mazumdar Shaw to Kunal Bahl. A few years ago, I thought, Vijay Mallya would have been in such a book. Now, he’s the elephant in the room. The event, a talk between panelists on the intricacies of doing business in India and the UK, relations between the two countries and the big picture on growth reforms, began.
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| Vijay Mallya. |
Mukulika Banerjee, anthropologist and director of LSE’s South Asia Centre, was chairing. Other speakers were Indian high commisioner to the UK Navtej Sarna, UK’s minister of state for universities and science, Jo Johnson, and, of course, Seth.
Things seemed to be going rather well when, suddenly, Sarna appeared to wear the look of a dignified gentleman who had just realised his lunch didn’t agree with him. He got up shortly after and, after quickly murmuring apologies to his co-speakers, made a speedy exit. Busy people, high commissioners, I thought. Not even enough time to sit through an event they’re speaking at.
It was only at the end of the event, as I turned to leave, that I spotted the elephant in the room. Mallya, dressed in various shades of pink and purple cut an imposing figure and was hard to miss. But his looming presence was uncomfortable for more reasons than are immediately obvious.
At the start of the event, Seth spoke about the need for highlighting positive stories about Indian business “not for a PR spin, but to inspire people”. The event was doing a good job of following that noble objective. Until, that is, Mallya’s whirlwind arrival swept out the dirt from under the carpet, bringing back into focus some disturbing counterpoints.
The speakers on stage spoke of the altruistic role businessmen could play in an economy, in the way Ratan Tata backed startups, for instance. Mallya was listening. Johnson spoke of India being the second biggest investor in the UK, after the US and of the close ties between India and the UK. Also, about how he had gotten close to many warm and hospitable Indian CEOs in his time as a business journalist in Delhi.
Mallya was present when he said this too. The speakers discussed the democratisation of business and how much the Indian government was doing to create a level playing field for new entrants. Mallya was definitely listening while Seth spoke, over and over, about how for the first time the current Indian cabinet was incorruptible and policies could no longer be influenced by lobbyists and middlemen.
From the audience John Elliott, author and journalist with the Financial Times, asked Seth for specific examples and he chose to speak about reforms in the airline sector. How this government was not susceptible to bullying and ready to do away with the 520 rule.
Mallya sat through all of this. It is, frankly, quite ridiculous to imagine that any of the hosts had actually invited Mallya to the event. You may or may not buy into the – sometimes wild – accusations, from Twitterati, of state and private collusion.
But even if an academic from a leading education institution, a British minister, the Indian government and Suhel Seth – or any one of them – were conspiring to make someone the media calls a “proclaimed offender” get away, it is highly unlikely that they would invite him to a public event glorifying “India’s greatest CEOs” and their victories.
But then, coming back to where we began, the mystery of why Mallya was there was hardly as interesting as the irony of him being in that room — a reminder of all the hard questions that don’t come up during polite conversations such as these.
A reminder of all the reform that is yet to be delivered as also a reminder of how the system remains opaque and biased towards the mighty, despite reforms. On stage, Seth, when asked what distinguishes Indian CEOs, said they have “PQ — a passion quotient, not just IQ.” Mallya, who decided to show up, wittingly or otherwise cocking a snook at authorities apparently fretting over his fleeing India, sat there as a stark reminder of how passion is a value-free word.
The consensus and bonhomie at cosy conferences such as these tends to dull the mind. But in the end, as I watched Mallya being avoided by the speakers and embraced by some attendees – who are frequent on society pages but whose names I don’t recall – the echo of unanswered questions grew louder. Unfortunately those questions, along with Mallya, got into a stretch limo in the end. They were driven off all too quickly.