The five tyre manufacturers, one an American, an Englishman, a German, a Frenchman and a Japanese sat huddled together in a hotel in Mumbai looking quite lost and confused. “Friends,” said the American, “we are gathered here today to pool our ideas to overcome this terrible crisis that has hit our tyre industry.”
“There is nothing we can do,” mumbled the Britisher who was the president of the Indian unit of a major Tyre company from the U.K. “The roads are so bad over here that even our best tyres don’t last for more than six months.”
“My tyres were on the lunar module that explored Mars,” said the American, “where they had to face the roughest terrain and yet in this country they burst like balloons at a Christmas party.”
“We have made tyres thicker than the heads of the English footballs fans, whose heads we’d like to break” said the president of the French tyre manufacturing company bitterly, “but same tyres are worn thin within a few weeks after they have been used.”
“My German tyres,” nearly won the second world war,” said the German “but in India, we lose every street fight.”
“I don’t think you need refer to World War II,” said the Britisher stiffly, “remember we finally won the war.”
“What is the use,” said the German, “when you can’t even win against the Indian roads.”
“And it was you British who built these roads in India,” said the American accusingly, “Thank God we kicked you out before you taught us all this wrong technology.”
“We built the best,” said the Englishman, but no roads in any country can withstand the ravages of telephone line digger, a sewage line digger, a cable line digger or an electric cable digger and then come the monsoons and the roads look like we’ve landed on the moon!”
“I agree with you,” said the German. “To be a millionaire here you just have to be a road contractor, and fill the potholes everyday as it empties the next day!”
“What do we do?” cried the American wishing that all problems could be solved by just popping a pill.
“Friends,” said the Japanese getting up and bowing to the others, “We have found a solution to the problem and we have already started marketing it from today. Tell me which is the vehicle which goes over every hill and bump and crack and crevice?”
“A tank,” said the German.
“No,” said the Japanese triumphantly, “In Rome do what the Romans do, in India…” and his colleagues from across the world clapped at the ingenuity of the Japs as he opened the door and wheeled in a big bullock cart wheel. “Friends this is the only wheel for these Indian roads…!”

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