It has been singled out despite the lack of hard evidence.

By Abhijit Roy and Jay Vikram Bakshi

Is the Rs 699.40-crore Tata Tea being victimised? That's the question corporate India is asking even as the Prafulla Kumar Mahanta Administration in Assam tries to make its accusations of funding militant organisations, like the United Liberation Front of Asom (ULFA), against Tata Tea stick. For, businessmen are arguing, the real question-mark hangs not over the company's actions, but over those of the Assam government's.

Their query: by targeting just one company for alleged sins that are virtually a tea industry standard, isn't the Asom Gano Parishad (AGP)--whose links with the ULFA, which was banned on November 28, 1990, were strong even a decade ago--serving its own cause, rather than that of the law or of national security? Moreover, they ask, does it seem plausible that Ratan Tata, the chairman of the Rs 31,471.25-crore Tata Group, would know that a group company was paying money to militants and still take no action?

On its part, Tata Tea, whose net profits of Rs 58.61 crore stand at 8.8 per cent of sales, has moved quickly, securing anticipatory bail for its ceo R.K. Krishna Kumar and its director S.M. Kidwai. And the investigators' inability to prove so far that the company handed over cash in any form to the ULFA has put them on the defensive already. That most companies operating in Assam do meet the militant organisations' demands for payment is well-known. On September 22, 1997, for instance, Mahanta declared that six tea companies were funding militants. But although his government claims to have found papers implicating the Rs 425.95-crore Williamson Magor Group, the Rs 122.28-crore Assam Company, the Rs 72.97-crore Assam Frontier, the Rs 122-crore Goodricke, and the Rs 73.76-crore Rossell, it hasn't taken any major action against them. After all, evidence unearthed by the Assam police as far back as January, 1997, following the arrest of a National Democratic Front of Bodoland (NDFB) activist, suggests that at least half-a-dozen companies had paid amounts ranging between Rs 50,000 and Rs 25 lakh to the militant outfit.

Just why, then, did Mahanta choose to train his guns on Tata Tea? While neither Krishna Kumar nor Tata--or their spokespersons--responded to bt's questions, BT learns that the reasons lie less in Mahanta's crusade against militancy, and more in the survival of his government. It has been under great pressure for failing to control law and order in the state--with the abduction and killing of social activist Sanjoy Ghose causing a nationwide hue-and-cry--which may have led to the imposition of President's Rule in the state. Says a Delhi-based political analyst: "Mahanta needed a diversion." What better decoy, then, than a controversy over the so-called funding of militants by India's largest tea company?

Mahanta was worried, too, that the Tata Group's furious lobbying in New Delhi--orchestrated by Tata's personal friend Nusli Wadia, the ceo of the Rs 989.60-crore Bombay Dyeing--could also harm his government. After all, the Tata Group would not find it difficult to establish that business in Assam is at the mercy of militants, with the state failing to provide security.

Of course, Mahanta was quick to seize the opportunity provided by the sensational publication of transcripts of conversations between Tata, Wadia, and, inter alia, Keshub Mahindra, the chairman of the Rs 3,024.80-crore Mahindra & Mahindra; Independent Rajya Sabha member Jayant Malhoutra; and Field Marshal Sam Manekshaw. For, these conversations, which came to light because Wadia's phone was being tapped, appeared to reveal not just the lobbying in progress, but also indicated the Tata Group's attempts to protect senior Tata Tea managers, including Krishna Kumar, from arrest.

Expectedly, Wadia and the others have disowned parts of the conversation. Declares the 59-year-old Malhoutra: "I did speak to Mr Wadia and Mr Tata, who are old friends, but certain portions of the tapes have been doctored. It is my duty as a Member of Parliament to help people who are in trouble." Adds a well-known Calcutta-based ceo: "In any case, the contents of the tapes were not nearly as dramatic as the fact that phones were being tapped."

But however strong the Assam government's motives for targeting Tata Tea are, pinning down the company hasn't been simple. The charges aired on September 7, 1997, by K. Hrishikeshan, 57, the Director General of Police, Assam, at a press conference provoked an exchange of open letters between Tata Tea and the Assam government, but had not been proved an entire month after they were made.

The first accusation concerned Tata Tea's supposed admission that it had several "forced" meetings with ULFA leaders. This was meant to be an indicator of a tacit understanding between the two. For instance, a letter dated January 4, 1996, written by the Calcutta-based S.M. Kidwai, director, Tata Tea, to Paresh Boruah, the self-styled chief of the ULFA's armed forces, refused to provide the 100 walkie-talkie sets that had been demanded by the outfit in its letter dated December 18, 1995, but ostensibly sympathised with the ULFA's cause.

True, a portion of Kidwai's letter to Paresh Boruah reads: "You (Boruah) have referred…to your movement which we sincerely believe is motivated by your desire to help Assam and its people achieve prosperity and well-being…" But the words were clearly an attempt at conciliation, not a statement of faith. In fact, documents available with bt prove that the state government knew that Tata Tea was constantly threatened by the ULFA.

The day after the ULFA demanded the walkie-talkie sets, Tata Tea executives met B.V.P. Rao, state home secretary, to seek "protection and help." But the state government did not respond, and Kidwai was forced to write the controversial January 4 letter. That Rao was kept informed of all the developments is evident from another letter dated January 9, 1996, written by Kidwai. It reads: "You will note that…we have regretted our inability to accede to the request made by the organisation (ULFA)…" It added that two senior officers of Tata Tea, B. Bordoloi and Brojen Gogoi, had been asked "to keep open the dialogue (with the militants) in the interest of security."

Importantly, Tata Tea is believed to have contacted the Intelligence Bureau (IB) in Delhi soon afterwards, pointing out that it was being compelled to keep in touch with the militants in the absence of protection from the state government--which was under the Congress-I till June, 1996--and asking for advice. The ib told the company that maintaining contact was acceptable so long as the bureau was kept informed. Knowing that the Tata Group had a direct line of communication with the Central government may have strengthened Mahanta's compulsion to target Tata Tea.

In any case, Tata Tea's defence states that "no money was ever paid to the militants," and that it had to remain in contact with them because of their stranglehold over the state. Says a senior manager in the company: "In the 1980s, we took a decision not to succumb to any demand of the militants." According to him, money was never paid even though one of the company's managers, P.C. Sikaria, was killed on March 13, 1990, and three others kidnapped by the militants over the last eight years. In fact, during the same time, over 12 executives have been killed, and another 40 kidnapped by militants.

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