In Search of My Missing Chevy Logo

India At 60

In search of my missing Chevy logo

Bishal Thapa

I knew that I had to get a new car when on a lonely stretch near Vasant Kunj (a South Delhi locality) a sambar deer darted out of nowhere and landed on the bonnet. In the bustling Delhi metropolis of 15 million people, a sambar deer on your bonnet is like a message from the heavens.  But there was more than a metaphysical reason for wanting a new car – a simple physical reason. The deer had busted my radiator.

My Hyundai Accent, now with a punctured radiator, was eight years old. I had owned it for five. It had faithfully ferried me around the madness in Delhi and bore the scars of the city’s traffic. I had vowed never to repair the dents. You were likely to get a new one faster than you could fix the previous one. Over time I had almost become superstitious about it, fearing that a fix would almost be a dare to the dent gods. A few dents should be par course when you share the road with pedestrians, cycles, rickshaws, autos (three-wheelers), other cars, motor cycles, trucks, tractors, construction equipment, bulls, cows, roadside vendors and a few sambar deer. And when everyone drives with an authoritative sense of impunity from traffic violations you can’t get too sullen about these things.

I decided to purchase the Maruti Swift Dzire – a compact four-door car priced on the Delhi road at just under US $15,000. I was to later discover that half a billion other Indians were also trying to the buy the same car.

More than 30 years ago in 1982, when India was still guarded by red tape and a hostile attitude to foreign investment, Suzuki boldly went on to form a joint venture with Maruti – the company that now manufactures the Swift Dzire. While other international companies viewed India with suspicion, Suzuki’s move turned to out to be spectacularly prescient. Exactly ten years later Suzuki went on to acquire a controlling stake in the company after the Indian Government began to disinvest as part of its liberalization drive. The Indian market is today of one Suzuki’s lifelines. Maruti Suzuki accounts for half of the Indian automobile market.

This January automobile sales in India increased 32% posting the highest monthly sales ever. Even through the recession last year, as vehicle demand plummeted worldwide, automobile sales in India grew by 25%. With 500 million Indians in the middle class and with one of the lowest automobile ownerships ratios in the world, you could probably sell a cardboard box with wheels if you stuck the right emblem to it.

After negotiating the price and selecting the color of the Maruti Dzire, just as I thought we were done, the dealer said it would be a six month waiting period. Six months! They have been making this car for a while now, so why the wait? Can’t they just make more of it? “There is a long waiting list,” he replied and added, as if in consolation, “we could try to push it for five months.” I couldn’t wait that long. The thing about the middle class is that it’s all about instant gratification. And that’s the double edged sword of India’s burgeoning middle class. 500 million middle class – 500 million needs for instant gratification. Great for car sales, not so great if you are trying buy a car.

Further down, I walked into another auto showroom tucked behind a street lined with refurbished second hand cars. The hoarding outside suggested he was a dealer of all makes, not just the Maruti. I asked him if he sold the Dzire. Everything from the Nano to the Mercedes, he replied.

Nano, the cheapest car in the world ($2,200) debuted in the 2008 Delhi Auto Expo to much fanfare. It is being produced by India’s most famous industrial conglomerate, TATA and is half the price of India’s cheapest car at that time, the Maruti 800. When the vehicle had its commercial launch last April, over 200,000 orders were received in the 15 days for which pre-booking was open. TATA had to implement a lottery system to select the buyers. Most people fortunate enough to buy the Nano were simply selling it on for a premium. This was the only second hand car market in the world where the used car price is higher than for a new car.      

This dealer was quick in getting to the most important point about the Dzire. “There is a long waiting list. About 5 to 6 months wait,” he said.

“Is there no way to get it quicker?” I prodded. 

He shook his head. “There is a long waiting list.”

I stared at him not wanting to give up so easily. After a moment’s silence, he offered a solution.

“If you pay twenty thousand Rupees ($400) extra, I could get you one in four days.”     

“How will it work,” I asked.

“You have to pay twenty thousand extra,” was all I got back in return.

“Yes, but how will it work,” I insisted.

He was silent a moment, then looked directly at me with the sincerity of the Buddha himself and said, “You just have to trust me.” I left instantly.   

I had been in Delhi for five years, long enough to know that the two words you absolutely stayed away from were “trust me,” especially when loaded with Buddha’s look of sincerity. These were not the only words you stayed away from, but were certainly close to the top.

In anguish and frustration, I walked into a Chevy dealership that incidentally was next door. An hour later when I emerged, I had by then bought a Chevy Aveo LT that was to be delivered within a week. This was better – much closer to the instant gratification that the middle class desires. Not a six month wait. The Aveo LT was much like the Dzire, compact and similarly priced.

Two odd things happened a month after I had acquired the Chevy Aveo.

First, I got through a whole month in Delhi traffic without a dent. Touch wood. Perhaps the sambar deer was indeed some sign from the heavens. Maybe I was the chosen one to have a dent free car in Delhi.       

Second, somebody flicked the Chevy logo from the back of the car. Took a screwdriver (I assume) and ripped out the Chevy emblem clean from the centre of the trunk door. It did leave a little scar but the whole thing was quite professionally done. I was surprised by how easily it appeared to have come off. Perhaps the Chevy engineers hadn’t really been tested in this department.  

Why would someone want to steal a Chevy emblem? I can understand if it were a fancy luxury car – a Porsche, Mercedes, BMW or any of those. I had seen plenty of cheap cars with emblems of luxury makes stuck on them. BMW and Porsche were particularly popular. Sometimes stickers instead of the actual emblems were used. I have often wondered why sticking a different logo would appeal to the car owner – did they believe that onlookers would mistake the Nano for a Porsche? Could it fetch you a better price in the second hand bazaar?

As I searched for the meaning of my missing Chevy logo, I spotted within the week a Ford Ikon – another similar compact car – with the same fate. Its emblem appeared to have been removed just as effortlessly. Recognizing that both Chevy and Ford were American brands, I reckoned it might be a political statement in opposition to the US.  

That seemed unlikely though. Even at the height of Bush’s unpopularity, surveys showed Indians had almost a 70% favorable rating for Bush. The communist party of India lost badly in last year’s general elections partly because they took a hard line anti-US stance when the Indo-US civilian nuclear pact came up in parliament. It didn’t seem likely that there might be communists loose in Delhi stealthily removing logos of American brand cars as a political statement. This anti-US hypothesis was not going to hold.

I would like to get the logo back if I could. I am still on the lookout for a misplaced Chevy logo. But how do I begin searching for a lost Chevy logo in a nation of a billion and half, where everyone is in need of a car, where every global auto producer has come to town and where a second hand car can cost more than a new one? If you do happen to spot a cardboard box with wheels and a Chevy logo, let me know, that emblem is probably mine.     

With love from Delhi on Valentine’s Day 2009.

Heavy traffic in New Delhi

Photo by Shruti Narayan