For over 40 years, I would call Ratan Tata on the 28th of December, his birthday, and he would answer in his inimitable dulcet voice. Ratan never made a big fuss of his birthdays, in much the same way that he lived his life. Instead, he would prefer to spend his birthdays at his beach house and, in his later years, at home, enjoying a quiet dinner with his sisters. The only fuss he would allow were flowers and so I would send him a large bouquet every year.
However, on the 28th of December 2024, there was a celebration of a different type – a type with tributes, yes, but with Ratan smiling down from the heavens. If Ratan were present, he would most likely have shied away from the celebrations as he was an unassuming man. With his statesman-like presence, many across the globe and in India may remember him as the Chairman of the Tata Group, as ‘Boss’ or ‘Sir’. But to me, he was simply my friend Ratan. We can all be sure that it will be a long time before such a rare jewel – his name ‘Ratan’, meaning jewel in Hindi, somehow encapsulates the boundless breadth of his character – walks the earth again.
Over 40 years ago, I met a tall, young, broad-shouldered, and handsome Ratan Tata at a dinner on a trip back home from London, where I was interning in shipping and finance. The dinner was an informal gathering of Tata bigwigs, known as satraps (a name whose origins lie in the satraps of old, governors of the provinces of the ancient Persian Empire). The dinner was at the home of Russi Mody, one of the satraps who reigned over Tata Steel out of Jamshedpur. Russi was a jovial, exuberant and ebullient man with a personality larger than life, and a wicked sense of humour. Educated in England at the prestigious Harrow School and Oxford, he loved playing the piano and was a friend to many world-renowned figures, politicians, captains of industry, much of the British royalty and aristocracy including Queen Elizabeth II herself and the Earl and Countess Spencer – Princess Diana’s parents.
Russi was a Tata family insider and loyalist, and at the time was Managing Director and Vice Chairman of Tata Steel. Tata satraps other than JRD and Ratan Tata (who was a relatively unknown Tata executive at the time) included: the brilliant legal and tax luminary Nani Palkhivala; the gentle and trusted Tata Sons Director (and brother of the illustrious artist Jehangir Sabavala) Shahrukh Sabavala; the cultural czar who, amongst many things, gave Mumbai the NCPA (and was brother to the groundbreaking atomic scientist Sir Homi Bhabha) Jamshed Bhabha; and the vivacious yet tough Punjabi Pathan Darbari Seth.
It was a fascinating dinner with plenty of good food and even better jokes, and I, a fresh-faced nineteen-year-old, was spellbound. At the small round tables laid out for four, I was seated next to Ratan Tata. His humble, polite demeanour (despite carrying the Tata surname) and impeccable manners struck a chord within me. We hit it off instantly and this was the beginning of what was to become a wonderful and warm friendship.
Although I felt that Ratan would take over the Tata Group one day, I had no inkling of the impact that he would make as not only as a household name in India, but globally, and would be able to juxtapose that with his ability to connect with the average person. His untimely death sparked an outpouring of grief across India that has been unparalleled and has, in the past, been reserved only for our politicians.
Our friendship started during a time of no instant communication, and so remained quiet and private which grew warmer and closer until his dying day. Ratan was a deeply private man with a great sense of in-built integrity and ethics, possessing an elephantine memory and rarely forgetting people or places. He was a great mimic and possessed a razor-sharp wit, all delivered with a deadpan face, which could have you in peals of laughter if you were quick enough to understand his turn of phrase.
Over the years, we had many conversations which traversed an uninhibited range of subjects, ranging from philosophical values, relationships, and life as a whole to business, his dreams for the Tata group, and his vision for India. I always felt that he was completely at ease talking to me, perhaps because he felt I never sought to take advantage of his friendship or generous nature. Although there was a time when he did ask me if I was willing to assist him by joining the Tata group executive office – or GEO – I politely declined as of paramount importance to me was his friendship, and not the gain I could possibly derive from it.
In the early years of our friendship, we met in India (at dinners at his place or at our homes in Juhu, Worli or Colaba – he happened to be my neighbour in Juhu) as well as overseas, bonding over our mutual love for music and the arts. He was a great friend of Dr Amar Bose, the academic and inventor who redefined sound systems, and Ratan would often use the very first speakers that Bose had presented to him.
Ethics aside, I learnt a lot from Ratan about his passions for technology and innovation, engineering (be it aero-spacial, automotive, or biotechnical), science and research, the arts and architecture, and so on. I learnt that Ratan was concerned more about the wellbeing of the workers at the Tata group and was happiest when walking the shopfloor, talking and listening to them and learning about their lives. This was his extended family.
As Ratan grew in stature within the Tata group and finally ended up as Chairman, the number of engagements he was required to attend increased exponentially, and consequently we met less frequently. Over the years he shared with me the stories of the various Machiavellian attempts to not only oust him but also to derail his efforts, but his resolve never wavered. Despite these machinations and a manic work and travel schedule, he would continue to make time to meet and would always answer my phone calls personally.
In all the years that I knew Ratan, there was never a hint of arrogance, and the unassuming, impeccably mannered-person never left his persona. Whenever I went to see him, he would always see me off to the car and then spend a minute or two chatting to my chauffeur – who he knew by name. When Ratan passed away my chauffeur had tears in his eyes as he recalled these memories. Ratan made everyone feel comfortable and had the ability to make kings and commoners alike feel special.
Ratan’s home for most of his working life as we all know was a modest flat in South Mumbai’s Bakhtawar building and not the grand Tata mansion where he had spent his childhood, and which now houses a European Bank. I had grown quite accustomed to Ratan’s modesty, and we would often drive off to the U.S. Club in Colaba in my Maruti Gypsy or little Esteem, his dogs in tow. When Ratan invited my wife to dinner at his home for the first time, she left bewildered and inquired on the way home: how could such a wealthy man employing thousands and with the Tata name be living such a modest life? On another occasion, my then three-year-old daughter ran amuck in his house and started playing staccato notes on his antique grand piano. My wife and I were mortified, but Ratan sat there, unperturbed and calm, and asked us to let her explore her curiosity.
On another occasion I was asked by an old friend and a senior member of the British Conservative Party Michael Spencer, now Lord Spencer, that the newly elected leaders of the Conservative Party David Cameron and George Osborne were keen to visit India to meet Ratan Tata and Mukesh Ambani privately, and re-energise India-UK business ties; could I set up a meeting? I spoke to both Ratan and Mukesh Ambani and the meetings took place at the Taj Chambers with Ratan and at Mukesh Ambani’s office at Nariman Point. Cameron, Osborne, Spencer and I flew back to the UK by private jet. On the flight back to the UK the conversation revolved around India and how impressed both Cameron and Osborne were with these two fascinating Indian businessmen.
A few months later Gordon Brown’s Labour government collapsed, and David Cameron won the general election and was elected Prime Minister. Cameron would later go on to recommend to Queen Elizabeth II, the highest British civilian award ever conferred upon an Indian, The Knight Commander of the Order of the British Empire, for Ratan Tata.
Despite being one of the most internationally recognized figures of Indian business and sought after by Presidents, Prime Ministers, politicians, and rulers in India and beyond, Ratan did not think it necessary to have a retinue of assistants or bodyguards for his personal protection whilst in India or during his travels. In my eyes, this made him not just unassuming but also incredibly brave.
On one occasion in the 1990s he called and suggested that the two of us go out to dinner at the Taj Mahal Hotel, Mumbai. I arrived in my Premier Padmini 1100 at his home and found a large police security detail not only outside but also inside his home. He saw the puzzled look on my face and said that his life was under threat from the ULFA militants of Assam, and the Government had sent in security. Nonchalantly, he then proceeded to get into my car and asked me to drive to the Taj. The police wanted to follow, but he leaned out and politely asked them to go home, which they reluctantly did. Over dinner, he told me the entire story about him being caught up in a story made up in the press about him being anti-national. He seemed upset, but throughout the evening was more concerned about the well-being of the Tata employees who were in Assam, rather than the personal threat to his own life.
On 25th November 2008, I flew with Ratan from Abu Dhabi to Delhi. He wanted me to fly to Mumbai on 26/11/2008 to attend a dinner at the Chambers but I asked if I could be excused as I wanted to spend time with my ailing Mother in Delhi. Ever the kind man, he agreed that was far more important. Ratan flew to Mumbai and the 26/11 Mumbai attacks took place that
evening. Deeply concerned as I knew he was at the Taj Hotel, I called his mobile and he said he had just returned home, had heard of a shooting incident at the Taj and was heading straight back. Ratan was then seen on TV by every Indian, directing efforts to get people out who were trapped in the hotel; he would not leave until the security forces had to persuade him to do so.
Nothing fazed Ratan. He was the captain of the ship and was not letting it go down without making sure that lives could be saved. After the attacks he promised to take care of all the employees and the Taj hotel was rebuilt and reopened in record time. Ratan was there shoulder-to-shoulder with each employee, at one of the most moving ceremonies I have ever witnessed.
As soon as he gave up the executive reins of the Tata group, Ratan moved into a very beautifully designed, elegant yet simple house with a swimming pool and a garden designed entirely by him, overlooking the lighthouses and the bobbing ships passing by at the entrance to the Mumbai harbour.
This was to be his haven of peace, but in the words of Robert Frost’s poem – ‘I have promises to keep and miles to go before I sleep’ – Ratan had still much to do and everyone still wanted a part of him. He never stopped working and his travels only increased. Several years later I was sitting at his home one Sunday afternoon in 2016, when he said to me “Bobby I could either go and just retire and live in Alibaug or do something about the Tata group,” as he was concerned by the turn of events at the group and the path it was taking. I had known of his dissatisfaction for some time but as his trusted friend, never mentioned it.
However, I had also underestimated his willpower. He spent several hours mulling over the options available to him but had made up his mind to act. The following Monday morning, the news was all over the press. He took charge once again of The Tata Group, albeit briefly, appointed a new captain and handed the ship back.
The stress caused because of the emotional pain he suffered subsequently took its toll on his health for his remaining years.
Ratan Tata always saw himself as custodian of the Tata legacy and the Tata Trusts first and foremost, never seeing himself as purely an individual with immense wealth; the only use his wealth provided to him, in his eyes, was in furthering his philanthropic endeavours. The Tata group was a business that continuously needed to adapt to change and grow to give, and Ratan oversaw projects to donate, set up hospitals, conduct research in health care and science, further education and so on for the people of India. For Ratan, ethics was cardinal and so business was often lost because it did not fall in line with his ethical beliefs. Many examples of this have been written about in the press, such as his exit from the early privatisation licenses of the airline business and from the hydrocarbons business. Whenever Tatas exited a business, Ratan made sure that international investors were repaid in full. Over the years this helped build a formidable reputation for the Tata Group not only with Indian investors but with the global investing community.
In the past few months, Ratan seemed to have had a premonition of the end. During our conversations, he talked about his frustrations at not being able to travel or move around freely as he was fiercely independent and felt he was becoming a burden to others. I called him on Friday 4th October 2024, and he said he would like to see me. I called again on Sunday 7th October, and his old faithful said, Boss was back from Goa and was feeling unwell. On the 8th of October, I was at the Breach Candy Hospital seeing my orthopaedic specialist and he said to me, “Your friend is in the hospital”.
I was certain Ratan would be back home in a day or two – and knowing how well he did not like public displays, I did not wander up to his hospital room. Little did I know that I would never see him or hear that voice again.
Ratan was a true son of India and embodied the teachings of the Bhagwat Geeta and the Upanishads, and yet remained true to his Parsi origins. He seemed to have had a divine understanding of detachment from the material world and led a graceful life until the end. He left behind a Tata group in good hands and well-prepared for the next 100 years.
The founding fathers of the group will be smiling upon a son whose birthday deserves to be celebrated.
Bobby Saigal is a a non-resident Indian businessman engaged in the global shipping, oil and gas business, who is also well-known in theatre.
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