Fifteen years ago, in December 2010, the Munjal family took everyone by surprise by announcing the end of Hero Group’s 27-year marriage with Japan’s Honda Motor Co. For many observers, it sowed the seeds of doubt about the road ahead for Hero.

Hero Honda was not like any other company. It was a cultural institution in the manner of an enduring political figure. Even today, if you ask an elderly woman in rural Uttar Pradesh or Bihar whom she voted for, she might answer, “Indira Gandhi”, as if time froze in her memory.

Similarly, brand Hero got woven so intricately in the fabric of the nation that it became indistinguishable from the landscape. Buying a motorcycle would mean buying a Hero Honda.

Not surprisingly, Hero Honda continued to thrive among the debris of several other joint ventures between Indian companies and multinational corporations that fell apart after the turn of the century. Honda itself walked out of its venture with Pune-based Kinetic and took complete control of its car venture with the Siddharth Shriram Group. But it continued its partnership with the

That made the 2010 divorce all the more poignant.

When Bajaj Auto parted ways with Kawasaki, it was the quiet uncoupling of a technology tie-up—there was no equity partnership between them. Bajaj had already discovered its own engineering rhythm with the Pulsar franchise and no longer needed a Japanese technology partner to define its future. When TVS ended its alliance with Suzuki, it was a mutual release of two engineering-led companies. TVS, fiercely proud of its indigenous capabilities, already possessed the DNA to innovate its way out of dependence.
Hero was different. Its success was inseparable from Honda’s technology. The Hero Honda brand was a monolith where consumers often did not know, or care, where Honda’s engineering ended and Hero’s manufacturing began. The company’s supply chain, R&D, and product planning were deeply interlocked with Honda’s ecosystem. Hero was, in effect, a commercial execution powerhouse with the largest volumes, the deepest distribution, and the most loyal customer base. It was not a technology company.

When the joint venture dissolved, analysts predicted that Hero would bleed market share. They argued it had no viable future without the Japanese engine platforms, that it faced a steeper climb than any Indian automotive giant had ever attempted.

Fifteen years later, Hero MotoCorp remains the world’s largest manufacturer of two-wheelers. That is the story of how Hero’s magic has been kept alive by Executive Chairman Pawan Munjal, son of late Brijmohan Lall Munjal, founder of Hero Group. It is a complex narrative of resilience and the enduring power of the Indian rural economy mixed with a few missed opportunities.

Hero MotoCorp had not responded to questions for this story, nor to a request for an interview with Pawan Munjal by the time this story was finalised. The narrative is based on accounts from long-time insiders and individuals who have been associated with the company in the recent past.

To understand the trauma of the separation, one must understand the depth of the bond. It was not just about carburettors and pistons; it was about a shared culture of humility. During the golden years of the joint venture, the mutual respect between the Indian and Japanese teams created an atmosphere unlike any in the cut-throat automotive world. The relationship was so warm that Japanese executives often affectionately added “Munjal” to their surnames as a gesture of familial closeness. This camaraderie made the partnership feel less like a commercial arrangement and more like a shared mission.

The breakup, therefore, felt catastrophic. It wasn’t just business; it was a family splitting up.

The separation was not entirely Hero’s choice. Honda had entered India in the 1980s, when government restrictions made joint ventures the........

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