Book review | In his memoir The Ambuja Story, entrepreneur Narotam Sekhsaria throws light on origin story of the company

Narotam Sekhsaria, the Chairman of ACC Limited, Ambuja Cements Ltd, and Ambuja Cement Foundation, has written a captivating memoir called The Ambuja Story. It reads like a masterclass for entrepreneurs who are keen to learn about risk-taking, innovation, relationships, ethics, and sustainability from an industry veteran willing to share glimpses from his long and exciting journey. The book has been published by Harper Business. Here are some of the questions that it tries to answer: Why did a cotton trader get into cement manufacturing? Why did the Gujarat government invest in a joint sector project with Sekhsaria when he had zero experience with cement? Who mentored him? How did he expand into Himachal Pradesh, Punjab, Rajasthan, West Bengal, Maharashtra, and Madhya Pradesh? How did he deal with bottlenecks, miscalculations, disagreements, and losses?   Apparently, Sekhsaria had resisted the idea of writing a book for a long time but his daughter Padmini, who has also written the afterword, urged him to take the plunge. He has produced a fine book, which is likely to be lapped up by business schools. Sekhsaria notes, “I realised that my reluctance was probably a cover for my lack of courage to take on the project.” He found a collaborator in Radhakrishnan Nair, who helped him pen down his life story.   Young entrepreneurs, who are not acquainted with the economic landscape in India before liberalisation in 1991, will find this book quite educational. It was a time when our country leaned heavily towards socialism. Everything from production to consumption was controlled by the state.

It was an unfavourable environment for entrepreneurs but there was a role for the cement industry in a newly independent nation fashioning a new identity after colonial rule.

Due to the License-Permit Raj that was prevalent in India, Sekhsaria was advised to buy an existing unused license from Bhagwandas Mehta, who had procured it three years earlier with the intention to set up a cement plant in Gujarat. It was in the name of a company called Ambuja Cement. Sekhsaria bought the company from Mehta in 1982. He considered changing the name but his father told him that Ambuja is another name for Goddess Lakshmi. Apart from following an auspicious sign, and respecting his father’s counsel, Sekhsaria was able to understand the importance of cultural resonances in building trust and credibility among Indian customers who wanted to embrace modernity and honour their traditions. While the playwright William Shakespeare said, “What’s in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet," names do matter when it comes to branding. When Sekhsaria began recruiting for his company, he decided to stay away from “super-achievers and professionals with fancy degrees from high-profile universities in India and abroad.” Attrition was a big concern because executives in cement companies were known to change jobs quite frequently for better salaries or designations. He planned to create a team of “hard-working professionals from ordinary Indian universities who were prepared to give their best in an environment that encouraged them to think creatively and dream big.” Setting up a cement factory often involves acquiring land from owners who obviously want a reasonable and fair price, which governments are not willing to give. Sekhsaria advises against this approach because, for many, losing the land amounts to losing their livelihood. He learnt this lesson while working in Gujarat, and understanding the local dynamics.   Sekhsaria writes, “The government never considers the fact that forcing people to sell their land has life-altering implications. In most cases, it is the only physical asset they own that often has been part of the family for generations. There is always a sentimental value attached to it. No amount of money is good enough to compensate for this loss. It is an important criterion that needs to be factored in when calculating the value of land being acquired.” Another significant takeaway from this book is Sekhsaria’s style of interacting with vendors and suppliers. He writes, “In our price negotiations, it was important not to squeeze them dry, but to leave something on the table that made them happy. They would never walk away feeling discontented if they made a profit that was commensurate with their effort.” His father taught him that doing so would incentivise these people to give their best.   He believes that people are more likely to cheat when they feel that the terms of a deal do not take their interests into account. He writes, “While we had to be strict on quality and deadlines, we made sure they were paid before time as a matter of routine. This was important for their cash flow and created a stress-free working environment for them.” Vendors were more efficient when they did not have to navigate red tape for their payments. Sekhsaria devotes many pages of this book to a topic close to his heart – the realisation that “environmental consciousness” is good for the planet as well as for business. He writes about setting up an effective dust control system, modifying machinery to conserve energy and increase productivity, cutting down electricity and coal consumption, running afforestation and desalination projects, and converting used limestone mines into water reservoirs. [caption id=“attachment_10281211” align=“alignnone” width=“640”]  Logo of Ambuja Cement[/caption] While the title suggests that the book is largely about Ambuja Cements Ltd, it would interest readers who are curious about Sekhsaria’s personal life. He writes about imbibing “baniya buddhi” from his elders, being adopted by his parents’ relatives who wanted a male heir, being bullied by peers, switching from a Marwari Vidyalaya to an English-medium school, and his fondness for reading comics. Batman, Superman, and Tarzan were his favourites.   He had a happy childhood filled with “tales from religious epics and mythology,” and family vacations in Kashmir, Nainital, Shimla, and Ooty. A college education in chemical engineering inculcated “a scientific temper and sense of logic, reasoning, and enquiry.” He liked frequenting restaurants like Venice, Bombelli’s, Volga, and a host of others that were famous for live bands and dancing as well as continental cuisine during Bombay’s “jazz age.” On a more sombre note, Sekhsaria writes about his experience with cancer, the primary cause of which was his “two-decade-long habit of chewing tobacco in the form of paan masala and zarda.” His wife, parents, friends, and doctors had warned him about the effects this could have on his health but he did not listen because he thought that tobacco would not affect him.   He writes, “When one is addicted to something, the mind always finds ways and reasons to continue doing it. I justified the use of tobacco, telling myself that I was trying to cope with my heightened levels of stress. On occasions, I was so busy that I would miss my meals, but paan masala would sustain me for hours.” This is a cautionary tale that many entrepreneurs can benefit from. It is generous of Sekhsaria to speak honestly about such a private matter.   Chintan Girish Modi is a freelance writer, journalist, and book reviewer.