Three Marketeers Page 6

  The twenty-five-floor hotel in New Delhi was a twelve-year-old five star property of Mayford Ritz Hotels India Limited, a subsidiary of Mayford Ritz Hotels Asia Limited headquartered in Hong Kong. The hotel was one of the twenty-three luxury properties at various locations in the world. Two more were under construction, one in Mumbai and the other in Manama.

  The property that stood like a symmetrical hillock in Connaught Place had 502 deluxe and executive rooms, 51 suites, and 147 clubrooms. The organising body of the summit rated its seventeen restaurants and bars, which served Indian and international cuisines and rare liquor, as the finest in India. They also rated its hi-tech business centre, tennis courts, shopping promenade, and mini putting green as world class. Even then, it was not an easy task for Paresh Menon to sign the deal to host the event at Mayford. It took him two years and five visits to the organiser’s headquarters in London to convince them of the hotel’s capability. That was another medal round the GM’s neck. Shigeru wished he had more people like Menon around him.

  Shigeru Yamazaki was the chairman of the parent company in Hong Kong as well as its Indian subsidiary, which had twelve directors on board. A high percentage of the subsidiary’s capital was held by shareholders, financial institutions, and banks. Though Shigeru was its largest shareholder, a few whales on its board could sway decisions in their favour. Through his sources, he had found out that Jaggi Balraj had been trying to influence the board members for their show of hands in favour of his buyout offer. Balraj had already given presentations to the creditors about his interest, and they had not opposed his move.

  Shigeru dreaded that one day the builder would reach his goal and dislodge him from his position. The increasing rifts with the board directors about the operations disturbed him. He was aware they wanted him out, but under no circumstances, did he want to lose his position on the board. He had grand plans to replicate his previous feats on his voyage to India.

  The only way Shigeru had been thwarting Balraj in his designs was by repeatedly shoring up his own stake in the company. Lately, he had understood there was not much business sense left in doing so, as there were other areas too that needed his money. He felt that improving the financial health of the hotel was the only way to win the trust of the board and prevent a takeover. He was hopeful that the summit would increase the share value on Dalal Street and may put an end to the problem.

  It was the first day of the summit.

  A session on ‘Mitigating Cultural Barriers and Establishing Better Communication Systems’ was underway in the Stellar Hall on the third floor of the hotel. The distinguished panellists included the minister of foreign affairs, Italy and the president of World Bank.

  ‘Aren’t we the odd ones here?’ whispered a visibly uninterested Vidu to Rishi. The three men were seated at the centre of the hall. While Karan and Rishi were in suits, Vidu was in a pair of jeans and a formal shirt—its sleeves casually folded. He had never worn a suit in his life.

  ‘Without you, Vidu, we could be mistaken for World Bank execs,’ said Rishi.

  The keynote speaker—head of a global travel company—summarised the views of the panellists. ‘Prejudices must be set aside before initiating a dialogue with a party in a foreign state …’

  ‘Hey, Karan, I’m going out for a smoke,’ said Vidu, as a mild ovation ensued in the hall.

  A woman representing the French delegation raised her hand and stood up to submit her viewpoint on building cross-border emotional ties for mitigating cultural barriers.

  Karan dropped his head sideways towards Vidu. ‘No. You sit through till break, and then we’ll go hunting. You get it?’

  ‘What’re we up to here?’ mumbled Vidu disappointedly, sliding back in his seat, fluffing the puff in his hair.

  ‘That brochure in your hand is where you’ll find the targets,’ said Karan. ‘Go through the damn thing. The profile of each speaker, along with a pic, is there in it.’

  ‘Read the profiles and judge who all could part with their bags of money for us,’ said Rishi.

  ‘And pounce on them during the networking breaks,’ said Karan. ‘Does that make sense, partner?’

  ‘What do the two of you plan to do in the meantime? Watch the birds around?’ shot back Vidu, turning his head in the direction of a small contingent from Hungary mostly comprising female business executives.

  ‘Grow up,’ chided Rishi.

  Half-heartedly, Vidu opened his copy of the brochure.

  Karan took out a stapled document from a folder. ‘Here. This list has the names of all the participants with their pics, titles, organisation names, and profiles. Go through this as well. Rishi, you too.’

  ‘Where did you get this from, chief?’ asked Vidu, as though it were a contraband item.

  ‘Sameera passed it along this morning.’

  A few members of the Malaysian contingent in the front row looked back at them, annoyed by the disturbance. A soft laughter erupted in the room as one of the panellists made a satirical comment about the outlook of governments on cultural exchange.

  After the session ended, the attendees exited the hall and joined others from parallel sessions for a thirty-minute break in the Windy Hall. Freedom’s directors stood in the high-ceiling hall for some time, watching the delegates—business leaders, entrepreneurs, investors, ministers, academics, and journalists—help themselves to biscotti, croissants, and beverages. Present among the leaders were the heads and promoters of a major shipping company in Denmark, a South Korean chaebol (a conglomerate in South Korea, generally owned and managed by a family), a mobile phone manufacturing company in Finland, and an aviation company in the United Kingdom. Those representing the Indian contingent, and matching the sheen of their global fellows, included heads of leading organisations in various sectors, whose objective was only one: cultivate fruitful associations and grow.

  Sameera Bali scanned the hall to spot Karan and his colleagues.

  ‘Looking for someone?’ asked Leena, who was in a sari that was a mélange of chestnut brown and black hues.

  ‘Watching the crowd. Quite a turnout.’

  ‘Paresh is going to have a cosmic orgasm,’ commented Leena.

  Not without you, thought Sameera. By now, like many others in the hotel, Sameera was aware that her colleague was in a relationship with him.

  Standing at the centre of the hall, holding a teacup and saucer, Rishi focussed on a flabby, white-skinned man sipping coffee.

  ‘Hi,’ he said, as he neared him. ‘Rishi Verma, Freedom Marketing.’ He presented his card.

  ‘Hello.’ The man squinted at the card, holding it at a distance, and placed his coffee on a table by his side. He took out a small leather cardholder from his jacket and pinched out one for Rishi. He was Ralf Kramer, the managing director of an investment company in Hamburg, Germany.

  ‘I agree to what you proposed in the session,’ said Rishi.

  As a speaker, Kramer had strongly proposed that to redress the impasses, a separate forum must be formed for organisations facing cultural impediments in cross-border expansions.

  ‘It’s time we confronted the problems head-on,’ said Rishi.

  ‘Ignore them and see the situation worsen,’ said Kramer. ‘What business are you in?’

  ‘We’ve recently started a marketing company,’ answered Rishi and sipped some more tea. ‘Is this the first time you’re attending this summit?’

  ‘Yeah. But I am a regular one at many others in Europe. Flying around in search of an opportunity.’ He chuckled.

  ‘What kind of investments do you do?’

  ‘Very diverse—energy, real estate, technology, consumer goods … But it’s not what it used to be. Recession has bruised the sentiment. I’m turning to Asia now. The markets here seem to be in better health, and anyway, Europeans like me aren’t left with many options.’

  ‘The Indian economy is healing fast. There is a growth in the foreign direct investment, and the remedial measures taken by the government a
re restoring consumer confidence.’

  ‘Not without the negatives,’ argued Kramer. ‘The latest reports tell us the country is coping with inflation. There has been a fall in the manufacturing sector. Even the technology sector, which has been India’s forte, is down.’

  ‘The reforms should put an end to these problems. Foreign investment is going to be one of the biggest factors contributing to India’s recovery.’

  ‘Reason why people like me are here. To invest and make the most of it.’ The German smiled. ‘So what’re you people up to?’

  ‘We are trying to purchase the sales and marketing rights from a beverage company.’

  ‘Where’s the facility?’

  ‘In Delhi itself. Okhla.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know much about this city or the country. But I’ve heard Delhi has an endless potential for consumer goods.’

  Rishi nodded and took the opportunity. ‘We are in search of an investor, maybe someone like you who—’

  An over-zealous businessman appeared and interrupted their discussion. ‘Saar,’ he sang. ‘What a plajhaar to meet you!’ He introduced himself as a gem exporter from Jaipur, violently shaking the delegate’s hand.

  ‘Oh, nice … to meet you,’ said Kramer.

  Miffed, Rishi quickly finished. ‘I will mail you our business plan and look forward to your reply. Pleasure meeting you.’

  ‘Wish you the best,’ said Kramer.

  An anguished Rishi left the German delegate with the garrulous exporter, who had begun a persuasive discourse on why investing in his company would be an astounding idea.

  ‘Oops!’ Karan seized his cup in time.

  The woman, who absent-mindedly brushed past him, turned round. ‘I’m so sorry. Hope I didn’t spoil your suit.’

  He inspected his clothes. ‘Not to worry. Not a spot anywhere. Hi. Karan Jaani.’

  She was Annemarie Schega. Karan knew that the elegant woman with auburn hair was the chairperson of Schega Hotels in Austria. He had read her profile in the brochure. Adeptly, he said, ‘Well, I am one of the promoters of a company.’

  ‘Which is into?’

  ‘We are a marketing company, venturing into beverages.’

  ‘We too have diversified and launched our organic beverages last year,’ she said merrily.

  ‘Are you looking at India?’

  ‘At present, no, though India does have the appetite.’

  ‘Is it a pan-European venture?’

  ‘It is.’

  ‘You should try Japan and Singapore. There’s enough excitement there.’

  ‘We hope to do so the next year. Let’s see. And where’s your excitement?’ asked the hotelier.

  ‘Delhi, the first market of India. If volume is the word in consumer markets, there can’t be a better place, which has a population thrice that of Austria. We are going to associate with a local brand here and are, at present, looking for an investor for the endeavour.’

  ‘I see.’

  Karan remained discreetly silent.

  She understood what he meant. ‘Umm, Karan, you can mail me your plan. If it fascinates us, you’ll get a response from my office. Here’s my card.’

  ‘Thank you. It’ll be in your mailbox tomorrow.’

  ‘Don’t want to dishearten you, but I am not a regular investor.’

  ‘I understand that, Miss Schega, but tomorrow you could be one. Things take time to blossom.’

  ‘Poetic, but true.’ She cracked a smile. ‘Nice to meet you, Karan.’

  ‘The pleasure is all mine.’

  ‘Sameera,’ called Leena, almost running to her in the foyer.

  ‘How are things?’ asked Sameera, her eyes on the guests arriving.

  ‘What is Vidu doing here? I saw him with two other men. How did he manage an invite?’ Leena was frantic.

  Sameera frowned. How did he manage an invite? Is that her only concern about him? ‘Maybe he’s representing a company he’s recently joined.’ She showed disinterest.

  ‘Joined as what? This summit is for business leaders,’ said Leena.

  Hesitatingly, Sameera told her briefly, how she helped Vidu after he quit his job.

  ‘You helped him? Why didn’t you ever tell me?’

  ‘I’m telling you now. Karan needed a business partner and Vidu an opportunity. I let the twain meet.’

  ‘Let the twain meet,’ mimicked Leena. ‘Anyway, you helped a jobless man after all. That’s okay, considering the humanitarian streak you have in you. Who’s this Karan?’

  ‘Karan Jaani. He’s my neighbour.’

  ‘The one with hooded eyes?’

  ‘Yeah. Why?’ Sameera felt a little uncomfortable.

  ‘Just asking, baby,’ said Leena naughtily. ‘Who’s the other one?’

  ‘Rishi Verma.’

  ‘And what’s the name of their company, you said?’

  ‘Freedom.’

  ‘Freedom?’ Leena laughed. ‘Suits Vidu,’ she said and adjusted her gaze on the guests coming in.

  A man in a flashy suit, with an attractive woman on his side and an old man in tow, entered the foyer.

  ‘Maple Hall?’ enquired the woman.

  ‘First floor, ma’am. She’ll help you,’ said a member of Hospitality, pointing to a petite usher standing beside her.

  Leena recognised the man in the suit. He was none other than Jaggi Balraj.

  The opening plenary began in the Maple Hall after the break. In all, at least two thousand delegates and representatives were seated in a theatre-style arrangement. Karan and his colleagues were at the back of the hall.

  The speakers, including heavyweights such as the president of Asian Development Bank and the finance minister of India, expressed their views on ‘Challenges and Opportunities in Eurasia’. Everyone agreed it was time the two continents came together and acknowledged the obstacles affecting growth in the region. One of them predicted that the euro crisis might not dissipate in the near future. The moderator, a professor from the University of Oxford, said that the Chinese and Indian economies had the potential to help many international firms suffering low-demand situations in their home markets.

  Later, during lunch, barring a few brief interactions, the directors of Freedom did not have much luck with the delegates. Vidu met the head of a Greek investment firm but the man was more interested in experiencing the magical charm of Indian women and asked a bewildered Vidu how that could be accomplished. Others they met included a builder from Barcelona, a casino operator from Macau, a diamond merchant from Antwerp, and a wine exporter from the Bordeaux–Arcachon–Libourne metropolitan area—the world’s major wine industry capital in France.

  Parallel sessions and workshops went on after lunch on different floors. Karan attended a session on ‘Raising Funds the Traditional Way’ and Rishi on ‘Private Equity in the Emerging Markets’.

  Damn these people, thought Vidu. He decided to loiter in the hotel for a while before escaping for a smoke. He strolled through a corridor and stepped into an elevator. He pressed a button at random and the lift went down.

  It stopped on the eighth floor. The doors opened and Leena stepped in. They faced each other. She decided to step out but the doors shut behind her. His heart pounded as his eyes met hers. Leena turned and pressed a button for the second floor. Standing ahead of him, she pretended to read messages on her phone, not even once acknowledging her ex-beau’s presence. Vidu gazed at the digital display of the changing floor numbers as the elevator glided downwards. It stopped after a while and she stepped out hurriedly, as though she were late for a meeting. The doors shut in front of Vidu and the elevator moved again at a speed much slower than his heartbeat.

  During the afternoon break, Paresh Menon gathered updates from his direct reports. ‘How are things?’ He turned to the head of Food and Beverages.

  ‘Everything’s in control. The day’s programme is going to end in one and a half hours. Many local guests will leave after that, but others will stay back for cocktails and dinner
.’

  ‘Leena, what are Balraj’s plans?’ asked Paresh, his lanky body fidgeting within one of his many ill-fitting suits. He had been apprising her of the task through the long nights at her apartment, within the confines of her bedroom.

  Much as she despised the task, she was aware that her survival in the company depended on how she handled it. ‘After attending two sessions, he has gone back as of now, but will return for cocktails,’ said Leena. Balraj’s office was at a walking distance from the hotel. ‘I’ll try to meet him then.’

  ‘Try?’ Paresh was a different person at work.

  ‘I mean … I will surely meet him.’

  ‘Take that on priority, Leena.’

  ‘He has booked a three-bay king suite for tonight.’

  ‘I know. That’s good for you. Isn’t it? Be a good host.’ Paresh winked.

  Leena was quiet while the head of F&B pretended she did not understand what she just heard.

  The delegates were in the Bovarian Grand, another high-ceiling hall, for cocktails and dinner. The participants clinked their glasses and as the spirits went in, the atmosphere turned feisty. Topics of conversation changed from business to Taj Mahal, Pushkar, and the beaches of Goa.

  Jaggi Balraj was back. A few Indian attendees had crowded around him, his servile CEO, and his personal secretary, either to reinforce an existing relationship or to strike a new one. The CEO collected business cards while the builder sipped on Hennessy, talking inattentively and watching the mirthful crowd. His secretary, seemingly, had nothing more important to do than posing beside him, enhancing his star value.

  Later, as the crowd around Balraj dispersed, Karan said, ‘This is our chance to follow up with him. Let’s catch him.’