Annspiring MMA discussion revisits Ratan Tata’s life, highlighting leadership rooted in integrity, compassion, and the courage to
choose wisely.
Mr. Harish Bhat
Former Brand Custodian, Tata Sons | Bestselling Author
I was also deeply moved to see, as I walked in, a photograph of Mr. Ratan Tata right outside this hall — receiving the MMA Business Leadership Award. And in looking at MMA’s history, I found that the very first recipient of that award, many decades ago, was none other than JRD Tata. There is, quite evidently, a very strong Tata lineage associated with this institution.
Now, let me tell you the story of why I wrote this book — because I think that story matters as much as the book itself. Ratan Tata passed away on the 9th of October, 2024. Around 11 that night, I received the news in Bangalore and felt deeply saddened. He had been on the interview panel that recruited me into the Tata Group in 1987, and over the following decades he was a constant source of inspiration in my life. The next morning, I took the first flight to Mumbai to pay my last respects at the National Centre for Performing Arts, where his body was kept in state.
On the flight itself, I met a man who had been a packaging vendor to Titan for many years. He too was heading to Mumbai. He told me he had never met Mr. Ratan Tata personally, yet he felt he owed his entire career to the Tata Group. At the NCPA, there was a queue several kilometres long. People raised slogans — Ratan Tata amar rahe — the kind of outpouring you associate with statesmen, not industrialists. The last time I witnessed anything comparable was when President APJ Abdul Kalam passed away. I saw people breaking down and crying as they paid their respects. I received a message from a lady entrepreneur who had arrived late and missed the viewing — she asked simply: could she at least see Bombay House, so that she could go back feeling she had paid her respects somewhere?
When I returned to Bangalore and spoke with people, so many told me: we never met him personally, and yet when he passed, we felt a personal loss. That question stayed with me. Was it because he was a successful businessman? He grew the Tata Group from $5.8 billion in revenues in 1991 to $100 billion by 2012 — remarkable by any measure. But there are other successful businesspeople who do not inspire this kind of love. Was it his philanthropy, the cancer hospitals, the charitable trusts? Was it his graceful humility despite holding the most powerful private sector office in the country? Was it that he had championed startups in his final years? Each reason, by itself, seemed insufficient. You respect and admire business leaders — but love and affection are not terms commonly associated with them.
So I decided to research more rigorously. I spoke to 20 to 25 people who had worked very closely with him — managing directors of Tata companies, senior leaders at group headquarters: R. Gopalakrishnan, Ishaat Hussain, B. Muthuraman, R. Mukundan, Kishor Chaukar, KRS Jamwal, H.N. Srinivas, and many others. And one common thread ran through every single conversation: he always tried to do what his conscience told him was the right thing. Then I came across an interview where an internal Tata Group magazine had asked him about his legacy. He said — and these are his words — ‘I hope I will be remembered as a person who always tried to do the right thing in whatever I did.’ That is where this book was born.
This is not a biography of Ratan Tata. It does not recount his life chronologically. It examines some of the most difficult decisions he ever faced and looks at them through the lens of doing the right thing. The book contains more than 35 stories from his life — each one carrying a lesson that any of us can take forward. I chose stories deliberately, because frameworks fade from memory but stories do not. That is how we are built as human beings.
Q&A
Mr Vinay Kamath, Editorial Consultant, The Hindu
BusinessLine
The book is full of stories that illuminate Ratan Tata’s character. In a nutshell, what did ‘doing the right thing’ actually mean to him — what is the essential takeaway?
Mr Harish Bhat
The back cover of the book carries a quotation from Ratan Tata himself: ‘At all times ask yourself if you are doing the right thing.’ But if you go deeper, doing the right thing meant several distinct things to him simultaneously. First, it meant putting the nation first — above the interests of the Tata Group itself. Everything in his career, every major decision, placed India above industry advantage. Second, it meant being a custodian of the Tata legacy. He once told our group legal head: ‘Don’t talk about my legacy — I am the custodian of the Tata legacy. I received it when I became chairman. My job is to leave it stronger.’ Third, it meant doing what was ethically right, and sometimes that meant walking away from business opportunities if the ethics were not sound. Fourth — and this is a crucial nuance — it meant going beyond what was legally required to do what was morally correct. Fifth, and perhaps most fundamentally, it was about care and compassion for people — and for animals. His mantra, as shared by Ishaat Hussain, was consistent: ‘Protect the dignity of the person on the other side. Never make anyone feel small.’ And finally, it meant keeping every commitment, however small. Once he gave his word, he was restless until he had honoured it.
People often asked him why doing the right thing mattered so much. His answer has stayed with me: ‘I would like to be convinced that I have not succumbed to doing something wrong, and I can go to bed peacefully at night.’ That nightly reckoning with his own conscience was, for him, a non-negotiable practice.
Mr Vinay Kamath
Can you share a story from the book that best illustrates his care and compassion — and what is your personal favourite story in the entire book?
Mr Harish Bhat
The story of the 26/11 attacks on the Taj Mahal Hotel is one that most people know in outline, but the details that came to light when I spoke to those who were present are extraordinary. Within 40 to 45 minutes of the attack beginning, Ratan Tata had reached the Taj. The police would not let him enter. So he remained on the pavement outside, near the Gateway of India, throughout that night — feeling helpless, but determined to be present in solidarity with the people inside. The real heroes of that night were the Taj’s own staff, who formed human chains to guide guests to safety, and 14 of whom lost their lives in doing so.
When the commandos finally neutralised the situation after three days and Ratan Tata was permitted to enter the hotel, he was already thinking about rehabilitation — not just for Taj employees but for every family across the city of Mumbai affected by the attacks. He made a public commitment before anyone had even counted the casualties. A senior executive standing nearby whispered a concern about the scale of financial liability. Ratan Tata whispered back: ‘How does it matter? Let’s get the data and find out. The city of Mumbai has given us so much over the years — now the city needs help, and we will do whatever is required.’ The Taj Public Welfare Trust was established within 15 days, with contributions from across the Tata Group, and it provided medical care, livelihood support, and educational assistance to hundreds of families across Mumbai — not only those connected to the Taj.
My favourite story, though, is one that Mr. B. Muthuraman — Managing Director of Tata Steel for many years — narrated to me, and when he told it, he had tears in his eyes. Muthuraman and Ratan Tata had opposing views on a significant business deal. They had to reach a decision by 10 p.m. Ratan Tata was travelling back from Delhi and said he would call from the car. He did call — they debated, reached an impasse, and Tata finally said: ‘If this is what you want, go ahead — but leave me out of it.’ And then the phone went dead. Muthuraman was distraught. Had his chairman banged the phone down on him? Within five minutes, however, the phone rang again. It was Ratan Tata. ‘Muthu, about the deal — you decide and do whatever must be done. That is not why I am calling. I am calling to tell you that I did not bang the phone down on you. My car went over a bump, and the signal dropped.’ Muthuraman told me: ‘Can you imagine the chairman of the Tata Group calling back only to say he had not hung up on you? All the way from the car, he put his hand on my shoulder.’ He said even today, years later, that story makes him want to cry — because it captures the essence of Ratan Tata’s respect for every single person he worked with. That, to me, is the finest lesson in this entire book: before he was the chairman of the Tata Group, he was a human being. And he acted like one, always.
