Retail King of the Subcontinent

The Story of Ernst and Young’s Entrepreneur of the year.

Posted by Raghav Somani

Pantaloon’s Kishore Biyani has become India’s largest retailer, and has recently been names the Ernst and Young’s Entrepreneur of the year.

In India’s chaotic markets, Kishore Biyani is the unchallenged king of retail. He has the knack of catching rivals off-guard and striking where it hurts most.

And now that he’s set himself the task of retaining control of the largest retail space in the country, he won’t let anyone – suppliers or international promoters included – catch him slacking.

The latest to face the wrath of the 43-year-old is South African hypermarket Shoprite, which opened shop in Mumbai last month through a franchise agreement with local company Nirmal Lifestyle.

The hypermarket began retailing products from big boys Nestle, Unilever and Procter & Gamble at consumer discounts of 20-30 per cent, lower than even Biyani’s purchase prices in his Big Bazaar and Food Bazaar stores.

Instead of chewing his nails, Biyani turned confrontationist, asking why the multinationals were offering Shoprite better prices, even withdrawing Nestle products from his stores when the company did not respond.

Two days later the Nestle products were back, but not before the company had clarified its stance. Says Biyani, “Shoprite is involved in predatory pricing. There are rules against this in every part of the world.”

But as a result of his tough stance, the three MNCs have asked Shoprite to roll back the offers or face withdrawal of supplies, he says.

Linking to Rural India

Posted by Raghav Somani

Written by Simon Robinson

It’s one of the perennial problems of marketing in India: How do you reach the 700 million people living in rural areas who, though poor, would still add up to a big chunk of change if they only knew about your products? That’s something Satyan Mishra, 33, has spent a lot of time thinking about. Mishra is the founder and CEO of Drishtee, a six-year-old company dedicated to making services and goods found in cities available to country folk.

In Drishtee’s early years, the company focused on connecting government departments to villages. Using small kiosks outfitted with a computer hooked up to an intranet, it allowed rural dwellers to apply for a driver’s license or request a copy of a birth certificate online. The company charged a small fee–25 rupees, or 55¢, to apply for a driver’s license, say–but the applicant saved 10 times that amount by reducing the number of visits to a government office in an often distant regional center. The system worked well at first. “But we discovered that there was a lot of pent-up demand and that after some time that demand went right down,” says Mishra.

So Drishtee has been expanding demand by selling insurance policies, subscriptions to websites that match would-be grooms with prospective brides, classified advertising, an online health-advice service and even passport photos printed as you wait. The company has 1,019 kiosks in nine states and is aiming to open an additional 3,000 in the next two years. Each kiosk is run by an entrepreneur from the village, typically a man in his mid-20s. The cost of a kiosk package–computer, digital camera, Internet connection over a cell-phone line, and printer–is $1,500, which is paid back over a few years. Each entrepreneur also pays a fixed monthly fee of $11. For that, there is help if anything goes wrong with the hardware, special rural-focused online packages that Drishtee develops (like the matchmaking service) and regular visits from insurance-company reps. Drishtee and each village entrepreneur get a small cut for every new policy sold. Drishtee is also looking at cell-phone kiosks–essentially cell phones that will offer about half the services currently provided by a fixed kiosk.

The company is one of a few that have shown bigger firms that there is a market outside the cities. Indian banks and retailers are developing innovative systems to reach the provincials. The Indian government likes Drishtee’s delivery model and is looking at creating its own version with at least 100,000 centers across the country. Mishra, who has advised the government on how to set up such a system, says competition will be welcome. He believes Drishtee is perfectly placed to specialize in supply-chain management for companies hoping to reach the same market. “It’s all about empowerment and giving people the tools to uplift themselves so they can compete with the outside world,” says Mishra. “And we think there’s a profitable market in that.”

Livin’ on Easy Street

Posted by Raghav Somani

Written by Andrew Thomspon, for Time

Phil South relaxes on the deck as twilight descends on the French Riviera. The 22-year-old technician from Chelmsford, England, and his girlfriend, Gillian Fell, 26, are aboard easyCruiseOne, a no-frills, budget liner on its maiden voyage from Nice, the start of a tour of the French and Italian coasts that stretches between St. Tropez and Portofino. “There’s no way we could have gone on a cruise [before easyCruise],” says South. “This has opened barriers for people like us.”

Great; just as long as nobody expects luxury at low prices. Forget deck quoits, pink gins and white-jacketed stewards. The only extra on this voyage is a small jacuzzi perched at the stern of the ship. The trip costs as little as $50 a night, but food and drink aren’t included and most cabins are windowless. And they’re orange. Orange is everywhere. In the furniture, fixtures and staff uniforms. In the Sports Bar, bartenders struggle to lip-read orders against a soundtrack of thumping music and the high-pitched shrieks of revelers.

The cruise liner is the latest cheap-and-cheerful venture from Greek- Cypriot entrepreneur Stelios Haji-Ioannou. Ten years after U.K.-based easyJet — now one of the largest intra-European airlines — took off, there’s an easy way to do almost anything. In the last six months alone, the easy brand — owned by Stelios’ easyGroup — has lent its name to an online movie-rental operation, a mobile-phone operator and a pizza-delivery service. Expect budget motor insurance this month, and a bare-bones hotel in west London starting in July. To hear Stelios — as everyone calls him — tell it, easyGroup is the little guy’s champion. “This is not just about yuppies taking holidays in St. Tropez,” says Stelios. “This is about single mums staying at home, ordering pizza and watching a dvd with her kids.”

Maybe. But is easyGroup really changing everyday lives? Would anyone choose to use all of the easy services? Seeking answers, I headed for Milton Keynes to spend several days in easyLand.

I started by renting an easyCar. In a hardscrabble part of London’s Stockwell neighborhood, I met a satisfied customer; “If the only thing against it is where it’s located,” said Karl Anderson, a 32-year-old New Zealander who was returning his rental car, then the online booking system and cheap prices are “worth a little bit of inconvenience.” Having snatched a discount by booking online in advance, I paid $85 to rent a car for 24 hours (easyCar rewards early birds — had I just walked in, I would have paid around twice as much) and headed north.

Next stop: A weathered, squat building in Milton Keynes, home of the 10-screen easyCinema. At 2 p.m. on a Thursday, the place was almost empty. “It picks up during the evenings and weekends,” insisted one assistant, who represented half of the visible staff. Book your seat and print the ticket at home; scanning devices at theater doors mean you don’t even have to make eye contact with an employee. “It can’t be a bad idea,” says Emma Buckingham, a practical-minded 22-year-old job seeker. Buckingham made the 45-km trip from Luton to see the newly released Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, lamenting the cost of tickets closer to home. My ticket cost $6. Across the road at the staff-heavy Cineworld, we would have stumped up a third more for our seats.

Shunning popcorn, I looked out for the discount easyPizza delivery I’d ordered online more than a week earlier. Sure enough, setting the gold standard for brand synchronization, my pizza was driven to the cinema doors minutes after lights up. I drove back to London for an evening at home with a dvd rented from the online, pay-as-you-go easyCinema service. Price? Just $3.50. The picture? Easy Rider.