(Extracted with permission from Sahara: The Untold Story by Tamal Bandyopadhyay published by Jaico Publishing House.)
Uttar Pradesh, where Sahara Pariwar is headquartered, has a culture of charansparsh, touching the feet of an elder. This is reflected in a big way in the Sahara DNA. In fact, bowing and touching the feet of elders or gurus is more reverential in Indian culture than a pranam or a namaste.
In Indian politics, it finds a place more as a gesture of submission. As a corporate ritual, it naturally draws criticism. To outsiders, the practice smacks of a cult — scores of employees greeting Subrata Roy and other senior executives by bowing to them and touching their feet.
The entire Sahara organization soaks in this culture. Many Sahara group employees, though, defend the rituals. For them, these are part of Indian etiquette, transcending language, cast, creed, religion, gender, and age.
The theme song of the Pune Warriors team, which was the Sahara franchise in the IPL cricket tournament until the group pulled out in May 2013, revolves around this theme:
Sahara Saharaa, Sahara Sahara Sahara Pranam
Bharat Ki Mitti Mein, Jinki Basti Hai Jaan
Bharat Ki Mitti Mein, Jinki Basti Hai Jaan
Sahara Saharaa, Poorey World Mein Hai Naam
Sahara Saharaa, Poorey World Mein Hai Naam
Sahara Saharaa, Sahara Sahara Sahara Pranam
Sahara Saharaa, Sahara Sahara Sahara Pranam
Roy revels in such efforts at emotional bondage. In the early 2000s, Roy asked some 80 people — friends from school and college in Bihar and UP — to leave their jobs and join his group. It had taken him nearly a year to gather information about them. All 80 joined him. That’s quintessential Roy: driven more by emotion and call of the heart than anything else. At least, that’s the impression he likes to give.
I watched his amazing connectivity in January 2013 at Sahara Shahar in Lucknow during his 39th wedding anniversary celebrations. Thousands of employees of the group, as well as many of the others who had come to wish the couple on 18th January, touched his feet. He addressed most of them by their first names. A big photograph of the couple adorned the wall of the octagon-shaped pavilion at Sahara Shahar. Two plasma TVs played Soul Sleigh, a musical dance drama, with two Santa Clauses superimposed with the faces of Roy and his wife Swapna.
For the guests, there were two 50-kg cakes, chocolate and strawberry flavoured. Rows of food stalls in the stadium adjacent offered freshly made samosas, jelabis, and other snacks as well as milk and buttermilk in pouches. The helpings were liberal. An in-house bakery made the cakes. It also produced Roy’sberry chocolate. On the pack was written: “Fruits of Love — Nuts of Surprises. A fine blend of sweet and nutty celebrations.”
Guests didn’t need to buy flowers to present to the couple. The event managers had placed counters at the entrance to the hall for the guests to pick a rose or a small bouquet to present to Roy and his wife. The arrangement was similar to that outside temples, where stalls sell flowers to be offered to the deities. The only difference at the Sahara event was that no one needed to pay for the flowers.
The couple stood at the centre of the pavilion for hours.
Roy, 65, with dyed hair and a tilak on his forehead, dressed in a cream tweed jacket; and Swapna, in a pink-yellow-green saree — surrounded by relatives and friends. People touched their feet. Roy put his arms around some, shook hands with others, and picked up children for a cuddle.
The ritual ended before noon. Roy took a break to have lunch with the two “queens” of the Sahara empire, his nonagenarian mother and his mother-in-law, both of whom live at his white marble residence, called Chhabi Roy’s Swapna Kuti, modeled on the White House. Chhabi is Roy’s mother.
In Roy’s walled city, there are no restricted zones. “He is our guardian; anyone can walk into his house,” the driver told me. We drove into the compound of his residence. The guards watched but did not stop our car.
Post lunch, we met at his secretariat for an interview for this book. I had chased him for months for this meeting. We had met the previous day in the same room that boasts a big black-and-white photograph of Roy holding the hand of Mother Teresa. “When she held my hand there was something going inside my body; something really difficult to express,” Roy says. He had asked me to stay back for the anniversary celebration. It was agreed that we would have an on-record chat in the afternoon.
The Sahara boss appeared to be relaxed. Roy is an inch shy of 6 feet and weighed a trim 79 kg, down from 115 kg a year ago. He said he lost weight by drastically cutting down on carbs and evening snacks. He smoked Davidoff cigarettes, although he had quit the habit for about three years (he used to smoke Benson & Hedges before), but resumed because he “felt like” it. Roy, a staunch believer in astrology, wears precious stones recommended to him by his astrologer Pandit Krishna Murari Mishra of Gorakhpur. He says he draws mental strength from these but is not dependent on them. I believe him.
Settling for the interview, we had tea and spoke while he munched on homemade kucho nimki, a tea-time snack in Bengali households, salty and crunchy.
Roy’s key argument in his fight with SEBI is that Sahara, being unlisted, does not come under the purview of the market regulator. Two former chief justices and two additional solicitor generals have given affidavits in favour of Sahara’s argument, and former law minister M Veerappa Moily, too, said that the Sahara group was right, Roy stated.
In April 2010, SEBI forwarded some OFCD investors’ complaints to the registrar of companies in UP and Maharashtra, saying these Sahara companies were unlisted and had not filed a prospectus for raising funds with it. It requested the two registrars of companies “for examination (of the complaints) and necessary action,” Roy said.
His argument is on the question of whether the OFCD offer to more than 50 people is a public issue. The Supreme Court had recently ruled that they came under SEBI's jurisdiction, but in 2007, Sahara had reported 19.7 million investors for its first issue and none had objected. Moreover, post this disclosure, two registrars of companies allowed Sahara to issue fresh OFCDs. “Why SEBI is not initiating actions against registrar of companies?” he asked.
He remains unfazed by SEBI's determination to target the group, because, he said, he was sitting on a massive 36,631-acre land bank, possibly the biggest held by any corporate entity in India. However, Roy doesn’t want to sell this land. “We are an unlisted company. We don’t need to take care of EPS (earnings per share). Why should we sell?” he asked.
Giving me a feel of the Sahara group, Roy said that turnover wasn’t relevant for the group as it had a string of financial and non-financial businesses. Overall, its assets spread over 4,799 establishments, have a market value of at least `1.52 trillion; the group employs over 1.1 million workers.
Our conversation meandered through a range of issues. Here are some edited excerpts:
Author: You look so trim and fit.
Roy: I had put on a lot of weight and started hating myself. I felt breathless while walking at the Delhi airport... I stopped eating carbohydrates; evening snacks.
Author: Is the suit that you wore this morning specially stitched for this occasion?
Roy: No, no... An old one.
Author: Your hair is jet black. Do you dye your hair?
Roy: Yes, I dye my hair.
Author: Do you wear the tilak on your forehead every day?
Roy: No. It’s for today.
Author: What happened in 2005? You seemed to be terribly unwell. Nobody knew what happened to you.
Roy: There was no health problem. It was created by the media. I had developed (high) blood pressure, which used to shoot (up) and come down in 15 minutes. The fluctuation continued between 200 and 100/110.
The doctors said only a change in lifestyle would help me; overwork for 28 years and little sleep have created the problem. They advised me to follow a routine at least for three months — I was advised to get up in the morning, go for a walk, do yoga, stop travelling, etc.
I wanted to consolidate all group activities. That gave me an opportunity to stay back at home and plan. I was not even aware of the problem till one day, my wife showed me two magazines carrying nasty things about me and my health. I spoke to all (TV) channel owners. I gave one statement.
Author: Why was former RBI governor Reddy after you?
Roy: It was a problem in Delhi — I am 100% sure; beyond that, I cannot say anything.
The RBI first told us that the disputed IT amount could be part of the directed investment — they asked us to give them at least two examples of refund — but later withdrew the directive. We had to bring in `1,400 crore — that too in the form of capital, not debt. We could put up only `600 crore.
The RBI first issued a show cause notice, and on the third day, they clamped down a prohibitory order. We had to go to the (Allahabad) High Court; they ran to the Supreme Court. They had to change that order — such a thing never happened in the RBI’s history.
They took it with vengeance. We were investing `500 crore in the State Bank, but the bank refused (at the instance of the RBI). The RBI threw our directors out.
(HN) Sinor (who was on the SIFCL board) once said if anybody should get a bank licence, Sahara should get it. He was positive. Nobody was willing to hear positive things.
Out of 100% (deposits), if 80% of investments are done as per the RBI directive, and there is an RBI inspection, (then) where is the problem? They gave us time till 2015 (to close business); we completed by 2012 — only `700–800 crore is (now) left to be paid. We are tracing some depositors... It will take a while.
Author: Does Sahara make money by forfeiting people’s deposits?
Roy: I can only say one thing and you can record it ten times — I have never done one wrong thing in my life. That’s how I can fight. People can make all sorts of stories. I call them chandukhana ki kahani (tales from the opium house). We read (things) about ourselves which we don’t know.
Author: Does Sahara keep politicians’ money?
Roy: Never. In fact, a few years back two big politicians — both good friends of mine — came to me and offered (to keep with) me big money. They said they had full faith in me and they wanted to keep `10,000–15,000 crore with us.
I told them, I am thankful to you that you have so much trust in me, but I will never keep your money. In 1978–79, when there was a question of existence for us, my chartered accountant in Gorakhpur told me if we could just make an entry of `10–15 lakh, we could earn a few thousand rupees, but I said no to it.
I told these politicians, if I didn’t do it then why should I do it now?
I challenge you to prove (that we keep politicians’ money).
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