Saluting the Marwari trader

Harilal & Sons is a watershed book - finally spirit of Marwari trader gets a well-deserved salute

I ordered Sujit Saraf’s latest novel, Harilal & Sons, straightaway after some websites claimed it was the world’s very first Marwari novel. Mr Saraf had done a fine job with his earlier book, The Confessions of Sultana Daku, and the Marwari world had always held great fascination for me. 

The contribution of the Marwari community to big business is well documented. The life stories of the Birlas, Goenkas, Bajajs, Dalmias and others have been told and retold several times. Yet, there is another category of Marwaris: The trader/shopkeeper who sells staples all his life in remote villages and towns hundreds of miles away from his arid homeland in Rajasthan. He can be found in mofussil Bengal, Assam and even Arunachal Pradesh. Harilal & Sons is about one such trader. 

Those who belong to the pre-liberalisation era will remember that traders were much reviled in the popular media at one time. Most films would paint them as unscrupulous hoarders, those who always sided with evil. Their tenacity went unheralded. That is why Harilal & Sons is a watershed book — finally the spirit of the Marwari trader gets a well-deserved salute. 

Harilal arrives in Calcutta as a 12-year-old at the start of the 20th century and becomes a clerk with a leading Marwari firm. In his spare time, he speculates on, of all things, rain. He then relocates to upcountry Bogra where he sets up a grain shop. Over the years, he adds jute, cigarettes, textiles and oil to the family business. After Partition, he moves to another small town in Bihar, where, apart from other things, he becomes an agent for Lever Brothers. 

The book contains valuable insights into the Marwari psyche. There is in Harilal great readiness to speculate. There is also in him great courage that enables him to set up shop in a remote and unfamiliar town. He is humble and always underplays his riches. A Marwari, I learn in the book, will never say two thousand and two hundred rupees — he will always call it twenty-two hundred rupees. Only a fool enumerates his possessions for god to take away. That’s why Harilal names his sons Fakir Chand and Garib Das. I learnt that god looks the other way when a Marwari mixes stones in daal and chalk powder in flour. Also, the Shastras say that a Bania is not tight-fisted only on three occasions: Births, weddings and deaths. 

A Marwari is practical and sees no merit in confrontation. “A Bania sits on his gaddi and sells,” Harilal educates his son. “He does not notice wars, only prices.” Harlial worships the cow and is greatly distressed that cows are slaughtered for the kitchen of the Nawab of Bogra. This jolts his sensibilities, but he will do nothing that can harm his interests. He may invest in a cowshed or donate money regularly to those who want to save the cows from the slaughter house, yet there will never be any open defiance. 

An elderly Marwari advises Harilal that it is not in their blood to pick up fights. In Rajasthan, when traders were travelling home with gold hidden in their clothes and were accosted by bandits, they readily gave up the gold — it could be bought again, but if life was lost, the earning power was impaired forever. “What was honour? Life was granted by Raamji, honour by men.” 

When one of his sons says that he wants to enlist in the armed forces during World War II, Harilal tells him: “The war will end but you will still have a shop to open every morning.” The Marwari Jagat Seths had financed Robert Clive’s war against the Nawab of Bengal in the 18th century. That’s how they fought wars — by paying for it. And when there is the threat of the Japanese invading Bengal and others begin to contemplate leaving the province, Harilal reasons: “English or Japanese, both need grain, both need cigarettes and both need oil.” 

This may sound effete in these macho times but is practical to the core. This is how businesses got built. 

Gaurav Dalmia, who is one of the few who pause to think about the cultural underpinnings of business, wrote in Business Standard sometime back that Marwaris show “immense self-confidence about their abilities, yet they are sufficiently insecure to be humble. Their preference for investment over consumption is the key to wealth creation. Frugality has character-building implications. Avoiding temptations leads to focus, less dissipation of energy, and provides the grit to persevere.” 

A word must also be said about the strong Marwari sense of community. This has led to networks which a newcomer can use to launch into business. The Marwari success also owes itself to trust and loyalty. Harilal & Sons is a wonderful look into the mind of the community.