AMW MOTORS: AN EX EMPLOYEE'S PERSPECTIVE

Introductory

When I joined AMW Motors on Aug 24, 2012, I felt on top of the world literally. I reached Mumbai on a day before, flying directly from Srinagar non-stop--till now the longest time I have spent on board a flight--full of excitement and joy, for I had secured a job in an automobile OEM, after having worked at dealership levels for almost a decade. As I entered the office, I was welcomed with a bouquet in one hand and a folder in another. This way of greeting new joiners was not only new but an extremely refreshing experience.
My subsequent induction at the plant at Bhuj in Gujarat and RO at Gurgaon was more than I had dreamt of.
As I started working in the field, trying to set dealers and sub-dealers in my territory, though it was a bit difficult, I enjoyed the challenges. Everyone seemed ready to help to achieve the goals, demonstrating true team work. The system worked so well that no one sounded unhappy. Perhaps the pioneers of the organization had inculcated this culture of unity and team work into the workforce which evidently resulted in it's skyrocketing growth in initial years. 
I soon fell in love with the company.

Customers' perspective

I have worked with Ashok Leyland(AL) for more than three years. I can write with some authority that AL is the most difficult brand of CV to sell in North India. We tore many of our shoes running after potential customers, failing more often than succeeding. I remember a customer whom I followed for more than three years to sell my vehicle--it is another matter that I did sell a vehicle to him towards the end of my stint with AL. Many customers would disappear when they heard we were going to meet them to sell our vehicles, many would not answer the phone calls and many others switched their phones off to avoid meeting us. Sometimes some customers abused AL in such harsh words that we felt extremely dejected. I was anticipating similar hostility from customers when I started working for AMW, for both were underdogs in my respective areas of operation. But to surprise me pleasantly, customers' response was extremely opposite to what I had expected. The only thing the prospective customers wanted was a workshop, a basic prerequisite for any auto company to succeed in any area otherwise too. The lone customer in Kashmir till then, came calling asking for one vehicle more ( he had purchased the first one from Jammu). A builder from Ganderbal came to our dealer asking for five numbers. Another builder from South Kashmir too wanted certain number of a particular model. Later when I was transferred to Jammu I met customers who waited for months to get an AMW vehicle. There was one Gulzar Ahmad from Udhampur who was willing to order a vehicle and wait for six months if it took that much of time to get one; this happened towards the days when the production had declined steeply. This response by customers infused an unprecedented confidence in me and I wondered why our dealers were not investing heavily in their dealerships. Many a months we took 100%  market share practically denying our competitors to sell any numbers, in some segments of vehicles.I have given all these instances to give an idea of the confidence that customers had in AMW.

Vehicle performance

Almost all the models produced by AMW performed exceptionally well. No other CV company in India can boast of the success of it's products as can AMW. Initially the company was known for it's heavy duty tippers but later when it introduced long haulage trucks they too were loved. There were some initial problems with 40-tonner articulated trucks but soon that became a history. We sold nine articulates to a single customer while all our competitors put together didn't sell that number for the entire year. Model 3116HL was another promising product which could have taken the company to a new level but for the financial crises that was soon to plunge it to a never ending depth.

Vehicle performance

Almost all the models produced by AMW performed exceptionally well. No other CV company in India can boast of the success of it's products as can AMW. Initially the company was known for it's heavy duty tippers but later when it introduced long haulage trucks they too were loved. There were some initial problems with 40-tonner articulated trucks but soon that became a history. We sold nine articulates to a single customer while all our competitors put together didn't sell that number for the entire year. Model 3116HL was another promising product which could have taken the company to a new level but for the financial crises that was soon to plunge it to a never ending depth.

When the crisis began

No one knows how the company which once looked in the eyes of the biggest players in the industry fell so steeply. The staff members at the lower levels were never aware of the financial crises that had crept into that organization and had been on a dangerous steady upward course. Ever since I joined I never received my salary on the last day of the month except for once in all these five years. We initially thought the it was because of the work load on the payroll section, but soon we came to know that company was struggling to pay to it's employees. This became worse with every passing month, till they stopped reimbursing the traveling expenses. Then they begun giving only part of the due salaries, initially seventy percent and then fifty percent and later stopped paying at all, though the salary rolls were prepared every month without fail. The result for the employees was devastating, no money at the end of the month means one fails to fulfill all the monetary commitments like loabs, credit cards, personal loans, loans from the grocery store, school fees of the children and taking care of one’s aging parents. I personally was hit by the worst I have seen ever.

Suggestion to job seekers
To those who are thinking of seeking a job in this company, I would suggest to be careful. No one cares two hoots about you when you run deep into debt. Better look for a stable placement where one gets one’s salary at the end of the month, no matter size of it. People should not forget that one bird in hands is worth a dozen in the bush. Also, HR department of this company has become nothing short of a government office where no one bothers about what the employees are going through. No one will reply to your mails, not even if you take the matter up with the senior management. I am told that some of the previous employees had sent legal notices to recover their dues but that too went unheard. My simple advices of now: if this company offers you a job, give it a pass.

For prospective buyers

For all those thinking of AMW vehicles, you are lucky that the company does not produce vehicles on mass scale, otherwise you would buy them and repent later as the dealers have shut down their shops and services and spares have almost disappeared from the markets.

Tail piece

Although I am no longer part of AMW Motors, I feel being a body part of it. I always feel proud when I see an AMW vehicle rolling on the road, as if I were myself rolling. Hope someday comes when the company restarts it's full operation and I associate by becoming a dealer.

The Day I Returned Home

"So, what is your name, lala?”, the old woman asked. “Mushtaq Dhar” , I replied, replacing Dar in my  name with Dhar, a surname used by Kashmiri Hindus. I used Dhar to mollify my Muslim identity.

“Musta Dhar” what kind of name is it?, which caste?” The woman enquired, bewildered.

I said, “no caste, Ama. My father is a Hindu and mother, a muslim. We don’t mind caste and religion in our family”.

The other woman, who was silent till now, jumped in,”Whatever may be your name, we will call you as Raju. Is that ok?”

“Yes, very ok, I don’t mind”, I replied.

“Ok, you are Raju to us, henceforth. Go now, Raju”, the woman seemed to be interested in my going away.

As I came downstairs, and sat in the newly rented room,  worried  that my muslim lineage had been disclosed. Though I had not revealed myself as an exclusive muslim, but then I could be considered a muslim because of my muslim mother! It was already evening and I sat thinking for a long time whether I had committed a mistake by telling them that my mother was a muslim. Should I have told them I was a pure Kashmiri Hindu? After all, who would have checked my papers of identity! I kept thinking, cursing the moment I had gone to the terrace. I was now thinking how to leave this place in case  any ominous incident. This was a complete Hindu area and the owner of the house Bhim Singh, was from a low caste and such people can do anything! The only solace: I had told them my father was a Hindu.

For some more time, I kept sitting in my room till there was complete dark outside. The other woman, who had given me my new name, meanwhile came down. She came near the small window of my room that opened into the corridor and asked in a low voice, “ what did you say your name was?” “Mushtaq Dar” I replied in a higher voice, by now I had resigned to my fate, thinking come what may, let them do whatever they want with me,  let them kill me if they want, many people had suffered in this country for being muslim.

“It sounds like a Muslim name!” she whispered again.

“Yes, I am a muslim” I replied as I had already decided to face whatever was in store for me.

The night came but I could not sleep. This was my first night in this house.

I had come to Agra two years ago, to study engineering. After having lived at hostel for six months, I decided to move out of the hostel as I thought (as many other students did) that the authorities charged us more than we would incur if we lived outside. Monthly expenditures of the hostel were Rs 650 (Rs 250 for rent and 400 for mess; Rent had to deposited for six months in advance). I was looking for a room mate and was thrilled when Parvez Alam, a colleague who hailed from Kanpur told me he was ready to live with me. We moved out together but he proved to be a crook very soon and  I started disliking him so much  that I hired another room three kilometres away, in Kakretha area, near Amar Ujala press. This house belonged to one Mr Mittal. The rent was Rs 300. I had decided to cook for myself but  Bina Aunty,  the landlady, offered to treat me as a paying guest. I gladly accepted, on payment of Rs 400 per month for two meals and unlimited tea.

During my living with Mittals, I got completely absorbed into the family and they would seldom ask me for the money, which I nonetheless paid albeit late every month. As I narrated my wonderful experience of this living with my colleagues, they informed me that I was treated well because the Baniyas (the caste to which my landlord belonged) were more interested in money rather than any religion or caste. . I was also informed by my friends that it usually were the people from the lower castes that indulged in voilence for other communities, particularly muslims and that upper caste people were always comfortable with muslims.

Oh, the reason for my good treatment by Mittals was because of the money they were earning from me! The great secret of my life. Having come from a conservative Muslim family of Kashmir, I had been educated enough about the hatred that hindus had for muslims. Now this Baniya had been befooling me! Hindus could not be so sympathetic to a muslim, unless they had some ulterior motives and it was the money in this case that was the driving force for the purported love. Otherwise, Hindus had all along been an anti-muslim mass and they left no chance to hurt a them. I could not forget that it was the Hindu India that had been suppressing the Kashmiri muslims. Hindus could not be trusted in any way.

I continued living pretending to be a faithful tenant but believing in the heart of my hearts that Mittals treated me only as an earning tool.

Shruti, the niece of Bina Aunty, came several times to stay at the Mittal’s home. She was called for a full week when Bina Aunty was operated in Asopa hospital. She was the only adult person in the home during all those days, besides me. I started falling in unilateral love with the girl. Before she left for her home, I had gone mad after her. I waited for next visit and it came; I wrote a love-letter on full 32 A4 pages and secretly handed it over to her. She left very soon and very soon after that Bina Aunty told me that my letter to her niece had been seized by her brother and that the man and his entire family was very furious about it. Aunty advised me not to write such letters to the girl thenceforth. The same day, the brother  also came to Mittal’s home on a motorcycle. I was on the terrace. He had a young and stout pillion rider behind. The two looked at me from below simultaneously. My conclusion was simple: they were planning to kill me, or at least thrash me. Why otherwise should two have come and looked at me as they did?

The frustration occupied me so much that I thought it necessary to do something about it. I went out and started looking for a new room. Luckily for me, I got one in Nagla Padi near Bhagwan Talkies. I usually ran short of money, but this time I was  lucky enough to have it in my pocket. I paid the advance rent and came back to tell Bina Aunty that I was leaving Agra for good and that I was leaving that day itself. She was surprised but I was to go. I loaded all my belongings onto a rikhshaw and landed straight at Bhim Singh’s house. Afetr setting the things in order in the room, I went to terrace to have a look of the area. The two women were sitting there chatting. One, the eldest was the landlady and the other, a tenant living in a room adjacent to that of mine downstairs.

 And now I was here.

This first night was a torture. I could not sleep for a minute. I got up very early in the morning, went to Bhagwan Talkies footpath and met my newspaper hawker to inform him about the new location for delivery of the paper; this place was the hub of all the newspaper distribution activities and all the hawkers took their loads from here. I collected  the days copy of the paper and went to a tea-shop to read it there, returning home after almost two hours.

The woman came to my door after some time. All the inmates of the house, including an old man who lived with this woman in her room, had left for their daily courses. This man spotted grey but very thick and pulsating moustaches, similar to those of some Indian militarymen.

“So you are a Muslim?” she asked again.

“Yes, I am one” I replied, the pressure seemed to have ebbed since yesterday.

“You are telling the truth?” she annoyed me.

“yes, yes, yes, she this is our holiest book, the Quran” I pulled out the Holy Book it to show to her.

“Can you read it?” she asked.

“Yes, very much”. I opened the Book and read some passage from it.

The woman had by now, come into the room.

“But you don’t keep roza?” she proceeded with another question.

The month of Ramzan had been going on for some days now, though I didn’t know how many.

“Don’t tell anyone you are a muslim. Its not safe. See, I too am  a muslim and have been living in this locality for fifteen years now. But no one knows about my religion. Todays is thirteenth roza and I have not missed even a single. I hastened yesterday to call you Raju lest these people might come to know about your being a muslim. I had understood from your name what you were” she told me everything……………………………….shocked I was, but happy also.

“But what about the old Hindu man whom I saw coming out of your room?” the thick mustached man could be a Hindu only, so I thought.

“Oh no no, he is not a Hindu. He too is a muslim, a father figure to me. He saved me when I went to commit suicide. I am from Gorakhpur basically. I fell away with my in-laws and went to commit suicide and this man saw me, took me off the railway track and brought me here. I have been living with him ever since serving him as my daughter. His real name is Babu Khan but is known as Babu Ram here.” She whispered.

More and more surprises had surprised me like never before!

The next morning, I was introduced to Babu (Khan or Ram?). He asked me to come with him to the Mandir. I replied that I could not because of my faith. But he insisted that it was not a Mandir in its true sense and that I would enjoy. I did go.

We reached the mandir, almost one and a half kilometers away from our home in fifteen minutes. I followed Babu in touching the feet of the Swami. Swami, after I had touched his feet, said, “ come son. Kashmiri? Muslim?” he asked the two questions in a single breath. “Yes, Swamiji” I replied. “name?” he asked further. “Mushtaq, Swamiji” I replied. “Very nice” he said and asked his men to get breakfast for me and Babu. We went to the side of the temple and sat on a wicker table to have our breakfast of samosas and tea. It was an Ashram, I learnt, not  a mandir.

Bina Aunty had somehow come to know about my presence in Agra. She sent Anil, a class-mate,for me. I was asked to at least meet her as she had something important to tell. Go I did. The fisrt line that greeted me “why have you started living in a Chamar’s house? Are you not ashamed of having lied to me. I want you back today into my house. You will not pay anything to me henceforth.”

“But Aunty, I have no money to transport my goods back and to pay the off the debt”

Together Aunty and me went, liquidated all the debt and together we returned to our home that day.