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By:

Akhilesh Sinha

25 June 2025 at 2:53:54 pm

Nadda's strategic meet signals urgency for chemical sector

New Delhi: As war simmers across the volatile landscape of West Asia, whether in the form of a direct confrontation between Israel, United States and Iran, or through Iran's hybrid warfare involving groups like Hezbollah and the Houthis, the tremors are no longer confined to the region's borders. They are coursing through the arteries of the global economy. India's chemicals and petrochemicals sector, heavily dependent on this region for critical raw materials, finds itself among the earliest...

Nadda's strategic meet signals urgency for chemical sector

New Delhi: As war simmers across the volatile landscape of West Asia, whether in the form of a direct confrontation between Israel, United States and Iran, or through Iran's hybrid warfare involving groups like Hezbollah and the Houthis, the tremors are no longer confined to the region's borders. They are coursing through the arteries of the global economy. India's chemicals and petrochemicals sector, heavily dependent on this region for critical raw materials, finds itself among the earliest and hardest hit by this geopolitical turbulence. It is in this backdrop that the recent meeting convened by Union Minister for Chemicals and Fertilisers J. P. Nadda at Kartavya Bhavan must be seen not as a routine consultation, but as a signal of strategic urgency. India's ambition to scale this sector from its current valuation of $220 billion to $1 trillion by 2040, and further to $1.5 trillion by 2047, will remain aspirational unless the country confronts its structural vulnerabilities with clarity and resolve. India today ranks as the world's sixth-largest producer of chemicals and the third-largest in Asia. The sector contributes 6-7 percent to GDP and underpins a wide spectrum of industries, from agriculture and pharmaceuticals to automobiles, construction, and electronics. It would be no exaggeration to call it the backbone of modern industrial India. Yet, embedded within this strength is a paradox. India's share in the global chemical value chain (GVC) stands at a modest 3.5 percent. A trade deficit of $31 billion in 2023 underscores a deeper issue: while India produces at scale, it remains marginal in high-value segments. This imbalance becomes starkly visible when disruptions in West Asia choke the supply of key feedstocks, shaking the very foundations of domestic industry. Supply Disruption The current crisis has laid this fragility bare. Disruptions in the supply of LNG, LPG, and sulfur have led to production cuts of 30-50 percent in several segments. With nearly 65 percent of sulfur imports sourced from the Middle East, the ripple effects have extended beyond chemicals to fertilisers, plastics, textiles, and other downstream industries. Strategic chokepoints such as the Strait of Hormuz have witnessed disruptions, pushing shipping costs up by 20-30 percent and adding further strain to cost structures. This is precisely where Nadda's emphasis on supply chain diversification and resilience appears prescient. In today's world, self-reliance cannot mean isolation; it must translate into strategic flexibility. While India imports crude oil from as many as 41 countries, several critical inputs for the chemical industry remain concentrated in a handful of sources, arguably the sector's most significant vulnerability. Opportunity Ahead A recent report by NITI Aayog outlines a pathway to convert this vulnerability into opportunity. It envisions raising India's GVC share to 5-6 percent by 2030 and to 12 percent by 2040. If achieved, the sector could not only reach the $1 trillion mark but also generate over 700,000 jobs. However, this transformation will demand more than policy intent, it will require sustained investment and disciplined execution. The most pressing challenge lies in research and innovation. India currently spends just 0.7 percent of industry revenue on R&D, compared to a global average of 2.3 percent. This gap explains why the country remains largely confined to basic chemicals, even as the world moves toward specialty and high-value products. Bridging this divide is essential if India is to climb the value chain. Equally constraining is the fragmented nature of the industry. Dominated by MSMEs with limited access to capital and technology, the sector struggles to compete globally. Cluster-based development models offer a pragmatic way forward, such as PCPIRs and the proposed chemical parks.

The Soul of Bharat on the Big Screen

Mumbai: April 4, 2025, my heart feels heavier than it ever has. The news hit me like a monsoon storm—Manoj Kumar, the towering legend of Bollywood, the man who painted patriotism across our screens, is no more. At 87, he slipped away at Mumbai’s Kokilaben Dhirubhai Ambani Hospital, leaving behind a reel of memories that flicker in my mind like a projector that won’t stop spinning. As a movie fan who grew up with his films, I’m not just mourning an actor—I’m grieving the loss of a piece of my soul, a piece of India itself. They called him "Bharat Kumar," and oh, how he earned that name.


I remember the first time I saw ‘Upkar’ (1967). I was a kid, sprawled on the living room floor, eyes glued to our old TV. Manoj ji played Bharat, the farmer who gave everything—his dreams, his love—for his country’s soil. That song, “Mere Desh Ki Dharti,” wasn’t just a tune; it was a heartbeat, pulsing with pride and sacrifice. I’d hum it walking to school, feeling like I, too, could be that noble, that selfless. He won a National Film Award for that one, and rightly so—it wasn’t acting; it was living.

Then there was ‘Shaheed’ (1965), where he brought Bhagat Singh back to life. I’d sit there, popcorn forgotten, as he roared defiance against the British, his eyes blazing with a fire that could’ve lit up the darkest colonial night. It wasn’t just a film—it was a revolution on celluloid, a call to remember the blood that bought our freedom. Manoj ji didn’t just play the martyr; he became him, and every time I watch it, I feel that lump in my throat, that sting in my eyes. It’s no wonder it snagged three National Awards—his passion was a gift to us all.


Oh, and ‘Purab Aur Paschim’ (1970)—how do I even begin? He directed and starred as Bharat again, this time wrestling with the clash of East and West, showing us the beauty of our roots while the world tried to pull us away. I’d laugh at Saira Banu’s antics, then choke up when Manoj ji stood tall, singing “Hai Preet Jahan Ki Reet Sada.” It was a blockbuster, sure, but it was more—it was a love letter to India, penned in his signature hand-over-face style. That move, mocked by some, was his shield, his quiet strength, and I adored it.

And who could forget ‘Roti Kapda Aur Makaan’ (1974)? He directed and starred as Bharat—again, because who else could?—tackling poverty, injustice, and the gut-wrenching struggle for the basics of life. I’d watch, fists clenched, as he fought for the everyman, his voice cracking with raw emotion. It wasn’t just a movie; it was a mirror to our society, a cry for change. Seven Filmfare Awards across his career, they say, but this one felt like it carried them all—his heart bled through every frame.


Then there’s ‘Kranti’ (1981), the epic that had me on the edge of my seat. Manoj ji as the freedom fighter, leading Dilip Kumar and Hema Malini through a storm of rebellion—it was grand, it was gritty, it was everything Bollywood could be. “Zindagi Ki Na Toote Ladi” still echoes in my ears, a reminder of the battles he fought on screen, battles that felt so real I’d dream of joining the fight. He didn’t just direct that film; he sculpted a monument to resilience, and I’d cheer like a fool every time he outsmarted the British.


As I sit here, flipping through these memories, I can’t help but feel cheated. Manoj Kumar wasn’t just an actor or director—he was family. Born Harikrishan Goswami in 1937, he carried the Partition’s scars from Abbottabad to Delhi, turning pain into purpose. He gave us over 50 films in a career spanning four decades, snagging the Padma Shri in 1992 and the Dadasaheb Phalke Award in 2015—honors that felt too small for a man who gave India its cinematic soul. His last role in ‘Jai Hind’ (1999) might’ve flopped, but it didn’t dim his light in my eyes.


I’d read how he met Bhagat Singh’s mother before ‘Shaheed’, seeking her blessing—can you imagine the weight of that? Or how PM Lal Bahadur Shastri urged him to make ‘Upkar’ after the 1965 war, handing him “Jai Jawan Jai Kisan” like a sacred torch? That’s who he was—a man who didn’t just entertain but carried a nation’s dreams.


Manoj ji, you weren’t just “Bharat Kumar” to me—you were the uncle who taught me pride, the friend who shared my anger, the poet who sang my hopes. Your films weren’t movies; they were my childhood, my rebellion, my tears. I’ll miss you like I miss the India you dreamed of—flawed, fierce, and forever ours. Rest in peace, sir. Om Shanti.

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