Subject Name: Marketing Management (105)

Case No. 1
TIC- A Haven to Fun & Frolic

Thakur was very happy, ecstatic in fact, choked with emotions, he flashed the bank draft of Rs.
5000 he was holding in the right hand and told all the young students sitting on the concrete slabs
strewn all around TIC and enjoying their CNN (twin pleasure of caffeine and nicotine), “Do you
know Pant? That lamboo got confirmed posting in Pune in TELCO… Arre yaar, the same tall
lanky fellow who strummed the guitar… the one always trying to impress the Lucknow BT girl
from CBSH…arre yaar all those angrezi gaane wala, what u call them… yes, yes… arre yaar…
Dhillon songs.” Thakur had cultivated this habit of saying ‘arre yaar’ before every sentence he
spoke and well, students had by now deciphered the Morse code … Thakur wanted to convey…
‘Dylan’ not ‘Dhillon’ songs. Most of the engineering students knew which biotechnology ma’am
of College of Basic Science and Humanities was being referred to.

It was routine affair at TIC; the young students knew what exactly Thakur meant… their
Mechanical Engineer super-senior Manish Pant, the one who loved to strum Bob Dylan songs
probably cleared his khaata (balance money to be paid) with Thakur. Thakur knew that they
would always pay even when they left the campus… often substantially more than they owed
him. Their existed an unwritten rule between Thakur and his beneficiaries, of course within
tacitly agreed boundaries, for final year students, if your campus interviews were on, you could
practically have endless udhars, for others you were supposed to pay upfront the moment you got
your draft or your parents transferred the money in your ATM at the start of the month. And well
well well !! Pant Sir had formally proposed to Alpana Ma’am of biotechnology department and
she had smiled. Of all the people in the world, these youngsters knew Thakur was the one to be
told first, he was the ultimate confidant for all souls residing in the campus.

Nobody knew where Thakur came from; nobody really cared… all they knew was that he meant
a lot. He was a friend, philosopher and guide to almost every student there. The junta (junta was
the term used by all students for every other students who studied in the hallow portals of G. B
Pant University of Agriculture and Technology, Pantnagar) knew how he would console first
year students who suffered from various demons in Ist Semester: ragging to top it all, pressures of
studies, cut throat competition to excel and worst was the sultry weather and those power cuts.

Lots of students had faced this question during ragging: What does TIC stand for? It was a pet
question asked with we-know-it-all arrogance and certitude by seniors while they sipped tea and
circulated fags amongst themselves. Not knowing that TIC stood for ‘Thakur Inter Continental’
would be further extending your ordeal of getting on your haunches to become a murga.
Students, especially the freshers, often wondered why such a modest establishment with thatched
roof, open air kitchen, eggs and maggi packets hanging from the rafters in makeshift hangers, a
bluish white display stand where Wills and Gold Flake King size cigarettes would temptingly be
placed, a running tap in the corner where an omnipresent chottu would be washing utensils, in
full public view, over a concrete slab strategically placed below the tap was called TIC. Well the
answer lay in knowing the fact in 1981, Thakur had accompanied a Professor of computer
engineering for 15 days to AIT, Bangkok; it was summer vacations time and an unmarried
professor Prof. Singh had asked him to come along, probably to cook Indian food for him there.
Well, when Thakur returned, he once began to cook fish and possibly declared it as Thai curry,
and from that very moment onwards, students Thakur dhabha as TIC.

Today, everybody, actually everybody, be it faculty, staff, housewives, school going kids,
shopkeepers, students for whom TIC is the raison d’être, everyone knows TIC like they know
their own home. In fact for all the 2 lakhs inhabitants of the Pantnagar, the intersection of road
lending from machine shop and hostel connecting Tagore hostel (1st year hostel) to Badi Market
is TIC… a prominent landmark- a permanent fixture of Pantnagar, more often than not used by
the residents to give directions to the visitors.

This university was no exception and all the students were exposed to quintessential ‘hostel
food’… especially harsh for teenagers who would join the university after being dog pampered
by mothers at home for years… the staple diet of watery dal and rotis that would decapitate a pig
if thrown at the correct angle and the cafeteria version of the veggies… that glob of sticky stuff
that went by the generic term ‘subzi’. It was a different matter thought that every day a daily a
menu was put up on the door of the mess that gave the Glob a different and pretty creative name
to compensate for the lack of taste. One day the subzi appeared as Alu-Gobhi next day it would
appear as Gobhi Alu. On that day when the amount of red chillies was too much for an average
student to handle, the menu would term it as shahi gobhi. On 'Saturdays the menu served ‘non-
veg’ dinner, unless the guy puts an alarm of starting time of mess i.e. 8.30 pm and then acted like
a cross between Carl Lewis and Ben Johnson sprinting towards the mess, they would have to
deal with long queues and only ‘chicken flavored curry.’

Pantnagar University was opened in 1960s under collaboration with few leading US universities
and students had heard how the great Prime Minister Nehru and lots of phirang scientists had
initially joined the university as Vice-Chancellor and Professors. Thakur knew each and every
detail and regaled students with the anecdotes liberally livened with the imagination; he was the
unofficial encyclopedia Britannica’ of Pantnagar University, University geographically spread
across 12 kilometers or more.

He told them how every senior position in this country, in any large employment sector of India
had Pantnagarian at the top … one could barely argue with him. Otherwise he would parrot out
names, he beared to remember them all… their designations and their hostel room numbers when
they studied there.

It seemed that the Pantnagar was some kind of KaalaPani, as only two kinds of people
constituted the population here which was very systematically organized as township: either you
were a student or were working to improve the intellectual lot either a Professor or Lab assistant
or else you worked in support departments like electricity, gardening, and water section.
Pantnagar University was contained with its own cinema hall, international-quality stadium,
swimming pools and gymnasiums. The library was a tourist attraction not because of its
magnificent 4-storied building and great collection of journals, periodicals and books but also
because invariably every student would take his parents or relatives there on a sight seeing trip
and then in return expect a compliment ‘Did you see what a great place our son studies.’ The
University was lush green… vegetation and gardens all around. Wasn’t it a historical fact that
University was the harbinger of the Green Revolution in this country? Didn’t it bring pride to all
of us when we could face the world and see straight in their eyes? Thakur knew all these stories;
he even knew how Shastriji, our late Prime Minister felt crassly humiliated when he went to
USA asking for food grains when there was an acute drought in India and how we (as he
passionately thumped his chest) toiled day and night to fulfill his promise of ‘Jai Jawan Jai
Kisan’.
Pantnagar University had 6 professional colleges viz. Technology, Biotechnology and Basic
Sciences, Fisheries, Agriculture and Forestry. About 4000 students would be studying here at
any point of time and living in over 12 hostels (design of girls’ hostel was inspired by Roman
Fortress, seniors always told juniors). However the place was isolated in terms of its geography
and distance from anything that would be called city- it was a world cocooned in itself- every
inhabitant had resigned himself or herself to the monotony of life there and over a period of time
cultivated his or her own world of fun, pleasure, hopes, insecurities, love, hate, pride and win all
around the campus; this was the place where everybody knew everyone, didn’t you bump across
the same faces wherever you went- to the college or library or Badi market (a shopping centre of
some 50 odd shops was called so). Incidentally, Badi market had a few coffee houses and ice-
cream parlors which facilitated breeding of nascent friendships and burgeoning romances in
Pantnagar.

How Thakur landed in Pantnagar is an apocryphal story but most students believed it for
whatever it was worth. However Thakur seems fiercely protective about it and never discussed
the same. It is sad that Thakur’s father, a poor peasant in Bihar, came with some relative in
search of a job as farm laborer in Pantnagar in early 1960s. His two kids apparently died of some
unknown disease in Pantnagar and he found his mental state and income too unsporting, when he
pleaded before the Vice-Chancellor to give him a permanent job in 1967. The VC, who was very
humane and emotional gentleman, instead offered him a small plot of land at a nominal rent near
engineering college hostels; probably he too was fed up of students’ complaints about food, but
one is not too sure if he thought of the dhabha beyond tea and some occasional snacks at that
time.

Mahatam Singh, better known as Thakur today, was mere young 7 years old then. The rest they
say is history, at least for the students.
Thakur took the defacto charge of the dhabha pretty young; his father did not maintain good
health and left for his native place in Bihar leaving the whole business in the hands of an 18 year
old boy. Well he did go back off and on for few days but he went for a relatively longer stretch
of 15 days in 1985 and got married. His wife was even more enterprising… the couple would
stay up late till well past 10 pm everyday, 7 days a week, making tea and serving fags for night
birds of the hostels. By 6 am the couple were up again making tea, coffee and tilk (an indigenous
preparation of tea made in milk was called as tilk in junta’s jargon) Didi (as Thakur’s wife was
lovingly called by the students) encouraged him to keep adding new stuff to their menu. One day
they made some samosas, the students loved and lapped them all… they demanded more of it.
But Thakur was strictly quality control guy; he was very fanatic about cleanliness and crispness
of the stuff that he served. Once when it was Ramnavmi, they decided to try and make some
jalebis… the hot samosaa and jalebis were like ambrosia to the gourmet starved students and
were devoured in no time at all. The eternally hungry and ever appreciative students kept
encouraging Didi to try something new.

Since students had limited influence over the mess food, they concentrated on getting to Thakur
to extend the menu beyond samosas and jalebis which by now along with sambhar vada, idli and
dosa being perfected by Didi. Students, when they came back from vacations vouched that one
got better South Indian food at TIC than at the leading restaurant in Delhi and, obviously, at
highly affordable price. Somewhere in late 1980s, someone had picked quick noodles on a trip to
Delhi. Thakur was not sure whether they would be able to dish it out, they tried it couple of times
but Thakur was not in favor of serving it to students till he could make it as good as you get it in
Delhi. Didi was very persuasive and took a few cooking lessons from some Mrs. Mehta a newly
married Professor’s wife who apparently had studied from some leading convent school in
Defraud and had also done her F&B training in Taj during her Hotel Management. Student
relished it this time and Thakur was lifted in arms amid loud cheers, due accolades were also
give to Didi for her culinary expertise… and why not, she had become a surrogate mother to all
the students in this god-forsaken isolated place, where all one had to do was slog… and slog
more to relax.
No matter what TIC made, it was huge improvement over the mess food but more important than
that TIC was a place for students to hang out at, just to get away from the maddening medley of
pontificating professors, hourlies, quizzes, lab tests and taxing syllabi, it was place to relax and
listen to Thakur play the mouth organ. TIC was witness to innumerable heated discussions,
arguments and confessions… Bill Gates to Brain Lara to Brazilian Hanks to Bryan Adams to
American- Iran imbroglio—they were all animatedly debated, shredded to pieces and put
together again into packages of optimum solution- if only the people concerned would heed these
young Turks.

Thakur very soon realized that if he has to get more business, he cannot go on with TIC being an
all-boys joint all his life. He noticed that boys would spend more time when there was a girl
along; the entrepreneur in him started thinking of innovative ideas. He realized that the ultimate
mark of customer confidence would be demonstrated when couple start making TIC their
preferred stop-over rather than those ice-cream parlors at Badi Market. Some guys suggested that
Thakur why he did not constructively utilize a shallow but around 3 feet wide canal and two
huge peepal trees that were just these at the backyard of TIC. This area was virtually littered with
leaves and other dead plantations. In summer 1989, Thakur got the place cleaned up, grew green
soft grass, cultivated a hedge along the boundaries and put lots of plastic chairs. The canal was
also cleaned up and in turn gave TIC a chilled, cool fun look. A bevy of girls also started joining
the refreshing the relaxed environment of TIC, Thakur cashed in on the popularity by extending
the range of cuisine- from just samosas, jalebis, idlis, dosa, sambhar-vada to chowmein, burgers,
finger fries, momos, chikkan (chicken as spelt on TIC’s handwritten menu cards) and mutton
tikkas to vegetable and chicken fried rice- to keep evolving with changing food preferences.
Slowly the students started going there for lots of activities- and they all knew what it meant.
Going to TIC was not all bout food; it was an experience to shares, the enjoyment of thrill, fun,
freedom and camaraderie, and few minutes of breathing space from never ending grind of
routine, academic life.

Soon, Thakur opened a PCO also in TIC as he noticed students shouting to each other to rush s
they would exhort each other to go to Badi market, which was 4 kilometers away, just to make a
phone call. Thakur also notices that in every paper in every semester, students wrote 3 hourlies
(sessional exam of 1 hour) and 1 lab practical before they wrote their final exams. During these
days, most of the students would burn midnight oil. Sensing an opportunity Thakur opened TIC
till 2 am serving tea, coffee, haldirams and lays kurkure and peanuts, maggi and of course
‘nicotine sticks’.

The astute observer in Thakur also noticed that during chilly winter nights, student wanted to
remain in their cosy rooms, moreover some student found it stylish to get aluminum foil wrapped
food in their rooms, a starting of ‘home delivery ‘ within University Campus. Getting food
‘room-delivered’ when pariahs would go to the well to drink, was a conspicuous symbolism to
flaunt your ‘first-among- equal’ status. Thakur had a couple of times sent alu-paranthas to hostel
when someone was not well. Thakur would personally go and meet the students who was not
well, offer him lift to the University Hospital on his old Yamaha Motorcycle… it never looked
like he was doing it with a business motive; he seemed a very caring, sensitive soul who felt
from his heart that it was his predained duty to help these youngsters who lived away from their
families- a self appointed foster father. But even foster father have expenses, hence Thakur
started charging one rupee extra over and above the bill for room services and it became a major
hit with some students, the ghotu (the typical nerds in junta’s parlance) the types who thought
leaving their book for even a second, will diminish the ‘fundas’.

Very soon, Thakur started keeping basic medicines like Paracetamol, Combiflam and ORS
solutions at TIC. Soon the product range at TIC widened to include chocolates, Reynolds pen
and rough notebooks. It also ensured increase in business per student because any student who
came to buy a notebook would more than often end up drinking tea and feasting on bread pakora
atleast. In summer of 2000, Thakur installed two major equipments at TIC which most students
found revolutionary: one was a freezer to store Amul ice-cream and those 5 rupee cold drink
bottles of Coke and Pepsi and second was an OTG to start serving hot patties too…..

These were the days of Alumni meet in 2005 in Pantnagar, we all friends, around 20 of us from
Delhi decided we will there in September. We all attended the formal function, listened to lots of
speeches about the progress the institution has made… increasing number of selections in IES,
IIMs, PSUs, Infosys, TISCO, L&T, Civil services and blah, blah….But no prizes to guessing
where our heart lay. As soon as some decency permitted we all rushed to TIC, we danced,
partied all along. It was a journey down the memory lane with gratitude and affection for our
self-appointed guardians, during our college days, a token of which was a sari for Didi and a pair
of jeans and T-shirt for Thakur from all of us. And yes, Mahatam Singh aka Thakur too swayed
with peppy numbers, buoyed by our invigorating presence and some spirit (pun unintended).

Question

What do you think: was Thakur ‘marketing’ or ‘selling’? Defend your answer