The Hope Factory A Novel - By Lavanya Sankaran Page 0,59
variety of shapes, then to where they were further welded together into new shapes by the workers at the welding machines, and finally to the loading bay, where they were stacked in bright orange crates, ready to be forklifted onto pallets that would make their way in container trucks to the various automotive companies Cauvery Auto supplied.
“It’s like pieces of a three-D puzzle, isn’t it?” she said, inspecting a box of stampings that waited in the loading bay. “All of them eventually assembled into the body of a car, or a truck, or something …”
“I suppose so…. It’s not a very complicated product,” he said, “but we focus very hard on finish and quality. That’s what we have to achieve. A world-class finish, consistently, quickly.”
“That’s what the Germans and the Japanese have mastered, isn’t it? Is it difficult,” she asked, “to get Indian workers to do high-quality work?”
“It all depends on the training,” he said. He realized, with some surprise, that he had never discussed these matters with anyone other than Ananthamurthy and a few others in the factory. He had never dreamed she would be engaged by such matters, so curious, warm appreciation in her eyes. “We have to de-skill and multi-skill them…. We retrain them from scratch. Even if they come to us with experience. Then we train them to work across a range of equipment.” He took her to the charts that showed how they managed quality throughout the factory and their efforts to introduce elements of Japanese production systems through the factory. “The most difficult thing is to get our workers to follow preset processes in a disciplined way. They want to get creative, find shortcuts. Also, they don’t want to cause offense to their colleagues, so if one of their friends makes a mistake, they don’t like to bring it up…. But if we are to compete globally in manufacturing, we have to address these issues…. Plus, of course, quality inspection at every stage of the process …”
At the end of the tour, she glanced up at the tall yellow cranes that ran along the factory ceiling. “So, tell me, Anand,” she said, mischievously, “do you ever go joyriding on those cranes after-hours?”
“Kavika!” he said, laughing. “Do not even think of suggesting such a thing to Pingu…. He’ll give me no peace….”
Somewhere during the tour, he had forgotten to be awkward with her.
BACK IN HIS OFFICE, he had just pulled out his checkbook when the phone rang. Absorbed in their conversation, he did not look at the identity of the caller before answering; this was his mistake.
“I find your attitude utterly unreasonable. Hello, hello, can you hear me?” Harry Chinappa’s voice was sharp and loud.
“Sorry?” said Anand. “What?” He could feel his face flush; he could tell from Kavika’s face that she had identified the voice on the telephone.
“It is utterly ridiculous on your part. How can we even think of altering all these arrangements on the eve of the party? All the invites have already been sent out; everything has been finalized for weeks. I must say, I find this utterly irresponsible on your part. Utterly.”
“Sorry?” said Anand again, his voice cautious. Perhaps Harry Chinappa had raised one too many whiskeys to his mouth and blown a crucial blood vessel. “Please, what is this?”
“If you wanted a simpler, smaller affair, why on earth couldn’t you have mentioned it earlier? Any effort I put into these little matters is only to help you, m’boy. To help you and Vidya. Far be it for me to impose my point of view on others. I am simply not made that way. But to bring it up now, when it is too late … ridiculous! All the invitations have gone out; we cannot possibly call people up and disinvite them just so you can have reduced numbers. Never heard of such a thing! And when I have put so much effort into planning the guest list—we cannot think of serving our guests substandard fare. Simple, vegetarian food, indeed! What, I ask you, is wrong with prawns?”
“Nothing is wrong with prawns,” said Anand, flushing in embarrassment. He wanted his father-in-law off the phone quickly. “Sorry? No, Vidya hasn’t discussed anything with me about the party…. No, no problem…. Well, if you think it is important, go ahead. No, I have no problem with it.”
“That’s excellent, m’boy.” Harry Chinappa sounded entirely mollified. “Vidya must have misunderstood. Good, I’m so glad…. Such a shock to my system…. And what do you