Long before the contemporary resurgence of nationalistic economic slogans such as Atmanirbhar Bharat and Make in India, and the pervasive discourse around import substitution, two pioneering engineers operating from the bustling industrial heartland of Bengaluru were diligently addressing complex manufacturing challenges that many believed could only be resolved by overseas expertise. Their remarkable narrative, conspicuously absent from mainstream textbooks and unadorned by public accolades or media recognition, unexpectedly resurfaced in the most unlikely of settings: a railway station in Germany. This compelling tale, shared by Bengaluru-based entrepreneur Manjit Singh Mogewala in a poignant post on X, offers a profound lesson for students, illuminating the enduring power of engineering ingenuity, the spirit of innovation, and the indispensable value of trusting and nurturing local talent.
A serendipitous encounter in Germany unexpectedly brought to light this extraordinary memory. In September 2017, Manjit and his wife, Preeti, found themselves awaiting a train in Hannover, Germany, when their path crossed with three fellow Indian travelers who approached them seeking directions. Following a brief exchange, one of the men posed a question that instantly stunned the couple: “Dashmesh Engineering? Pritam ji? Your neighbor Jain Saab?” The sheer astonishment stemmed from the inexplicable knowledge a stranger in Germany possessed regarding the identities of two engineers based in Bengaluru. This surprising query served as a conduit, transporting Manjit and Preeti back over three decades to a pivotal moment in India’s industrial history.
The incident in question, as recounted by Manjit, dates back to the period of 1984-85, a time when Hero Honda was in the process of establishing its manufacturing plant in Haryana. The company had commissioned specialized machinery from Bengaluru-based BFW. However, a particular critical fixture presented an insurmountable obstacle. Engineers from Honda reportedly conveyed their conviction that this specific component could not be manufactured within India and strongly advocated for its importation from Japan. This predicament eventually landed on the desks of BFW. The solution, as shared in the X post, was remarkably straightforward: “Take this concept to Pritam ji. If he says yes, he will make it. If he says no, import it from Japan.” These precise instructions led the detailed drawings to Dashmesh Engineering. Pritam Singh Mogewala, who had pursued his engineering studies at BMS College in Bengaluru after relocating from Moga, Punjab, established Dashmesh Engineering in 1979, subsequently moving its operations to the Peenya Industrial Area in 1981. After meticulously examining the technical drawings, his response was unequivocal: “Yes, it is possible. Give me 15-20 days.”
During the period of the component’s development, the visitors from Hero Honda remained in Bengaluru, making daily visits to the factory over those crucial 15 days. Yet, what etched itself most deeply into their memories was not merely the demanding engineering challenge, but the profound camaraderie that blossomed. Pritam Singh and his close confidant, fellow industrialist B. K. Jain of Accuspirals, shared a daily ritual of lunch. This tradition soon expanded to include their visitors, for whom they began packing extra meals. These shared lunch breaks evolved into vibrant discussions centered on machine building, intricate engineering challenges, manufacturing processes, and the unwavering pursuit of indigenous solutions to problems that often appeared insuperable. One of these visionaries hailed from Moga in Punjab, while the other originated from Khandwa in Madhya Pradesh. In an era predating the internet, smartphones, and the sophisticated manufacturing ecosystems we know today, their collective endeavor was characterized by a relentless dedication to creation and innovation.
Pritam Singh’s passing occurred in December 2015, and B. K. Jain, his esteemed colleague, recently departed. Nevertheless, their inspiring narrative continues to resonate. For contemporary engineering students, this story transcends a mere nostalgic reminiscence from the 1980s. It serves as a powerful testament that genuine innovation is not exclusively confined to the hallowed halls of multinational corporations or advanced research laboratories. Frequently, it originates within the unassuming confines of a modest workshop, propelled by the spirit of two engineers audacious enough to challenge the prevailing notion of impossibility. Today’s students are immersed in a world defined by burgeoning startups, artificial intelligence, and global technology giants. However, stories such as this provide an essential reminder that the very bedrock of India’s industrial advancement was meticulously laid by countless unsung engineers who confronted and resolved real-world problems with limited resources, an extraordinary reservoir of determination, and an unshakeable faith in the transformative potential of indigenous innovation. Certain narratives possess an inherent quality that demands their preservation and recollection, and this one unequivocally belongs among them.
