Anu Aga’s quiet triumph over tragedy at Thermax

In February 1996, Rohinton Aga, her husband and the driving force behind Thermax, died of a massive stroke. Within 48 hours, the board thrust the chairperson’s role upon her even though her only experience was a decade heading human resources at the energy solutions company. Just 14 months later, before grief could even begin to heal, her 25-year-old son Kurush died in a car accident.

But even as she coped with her sorrow, there was a company that needed her urgent attention. Thermax, set up by her father A.S. Bhathena in 1966 as Wanson India, but assiduously grown by Rohinton, confronted an existential threat with its share price plummeting from around ₹400 to ₹36. Even as its losses mounted, an anonymous shareholder’s letter arrived, accusing her of letting investors down. For the Aga family, “letting someone down” was, as she would later say, a dirty word.

Nerves of steel

Anu Aga had the option of giving up and retreating into private life. But the former St. Xavier’s College graduate, who had trained at the Tata Institute of Social Sciences in psychiatric and medical social work, was made of sterner stuff. This mild-mannered, soft-spoken woman with close-cropped silver hair and a preference for simple cotton saris decided the best tribute to the people she had loved would be to ensure their work didn’t go to waste.

It wasn’t an easy task. The Asian financial crisis of 1997 had compounded India’s economic downturn. Key industries like capital goods, textiles saw declining demand with currency fluctuations adding to the volatility. Anu Aga started the revival with an act of humility rare in Indian corporate circles. “I realized I wasn’t capable but was only pretending to run the business,” she admitted.

One of her first decisions was to reconstitute the board entirely, removing even her daughter Meher and son-in-law from executive positions, placing them instead as board members.

Under the guidance of Boston Consulting Group (BCG), Thermax divested non-core businesses, including IT, electronics and bottled water, all the ventures that had added to the top line but eroded profits. The company refocused on its six core competencies of boilers, heaters, absorption chillers, water treatment, air pollution control, and chemicals. Employees were pruned, investments cut, operations right-sized. It was a brutal, necessary surgery.

These moves placed the company well on its way to future growth. For someone who once joked she “wasn’t good with numbers”, it was a triumph of character over circumstance and proof that willingness to learn is more useful than the pretence of expertise.

By 2002, Thermax announced turnaround results with a net profit of ₹24 crore. In August that year, it declared a 50% dividend, the highest since going public in 1995. By 2004, when she decided her job was done, Thermax registered its highest-ever profit of ₹54 crore, and the share price was on its way to recovery. Today, the company is a global powerhouse with a market capitalization exceeding ₹35,000 crore (around $4 billion).

Her job done, she stepped down in 2004 to make way for her daughter Meher Pudumjee. A retreat from business, though, didn’t mean she was done working.

Values-driven leader

Inspired by her son Kurush, who had insisted the family commit 80-90% of their wealth to philanthropy, Anu threw herself into social causes. Through the Anu Aga Trust, the family pledged 30% of Thermax dividends to education for the underprivileged. In partnership with the Akanksha Foundation, the trust manages several municipal schools in Pune and Mumbai, ensuring that the quality of education in government schools matches that of elite private institutions. She also co-founded Teach For India, with the aim of ending educational inequity by building a movement of leaders.

At 83, Anu Aga, a Padma Shri awardee and former Rajya Sabha member with a net worth running into billions, remains a role model not for her wealth but for her wisdom. A woman of quiet efficiency and understated energy, she embodies the Parsi entrepreneurial spirit tempered by social consciousness. Her trademark simplicity sits perfectly with a philosophy she learned through meditation and loss: That true leadership begins with acknowledging what you don’t know, and that business, divorced from social purpose, is not worth it.

In Anu Aga, India found not just a businesswoman, but a beacon of grace under fire.

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