From Topaz in the 1970s to Supermax through 2023, RK Malhotra, the mastermind behind India’s most iconic razor blade brands, now shares his story in ‘Ace of Blades: The Life Story of the Blade King of India’ (Jaico Publishing House)—an electrifying account of a man whose obsession with the perfect edge built an empire, challenged a global titan, and became part of millions of daily rituals.
Written by his daughter, Reenita Malhotra Hora, the book blends business history with a gripping family saga, offering a rare look inside the rise of India’s FMCG industry, revealing the obsession, ambition, rivalries, and sacrifices that shaped both the empire and the man behind it.
From factory floors to personal turning points, the narrative exposes the price of greatness with remarkable honesty. With its mix of entrepreneurial grit, cultural insight, and dramatic storytelling, ‘Ace of Blades’ is a raw, revealing portrait of leadership, legacy, and the personal cost of greatness.
Perfect for readers who love biographies, business histories, and real-life family sagas.
‘It is next to impossible to build up a good business. If you have the good fortune to do so, cherish it and look after it. It probably will not happen again.’ – RK Malhotra.
Born into a powerful Punjabi family, RK’s journey was defined by contradictions—whiplash volatility, merciless edge, and a family pulled in different directions by ambition and greed. What began with humble Panama blades expanded into an empire that Gillette tried—unsuccessfully—to acquire for over a decade. Yet, RK’s obsession with the perfect edge ultimately shaped everything he touched.
But as his empire rose, so did the personal and professional sacrifices that would test him at every turn.
‘Ace of Blades’ is a raw, real account of RK’s life and leadership, narrated by his daughter, Reenita, and validated by interviews with family, colleagues, and associates. This is not just the story of one man, but a coming-of-age story on three levels: RK’s transformation, the rise of India’s FMCG industries through the lens of the blade industry, and the cultural revolution of every Indian man who shaved with his brands.
Reenita Malhotra Hora is a Mumbai-born, California-based novelist and screenwriter, whose stories spotlight the South Aian experience. Her award-winning historical love story ‘Vermilion Harvest – Playtime at the Bagh’, set against the 1919 Amritsar massacre, won the Overall Grand Prize at the Chanticleer International Book Awards.
Her YA rom-com ‘Operation Mom’ has also earned acclaim, with recognition from the Sundance Institute Development Slate, The Writers Lab, the Eric Hoffer Book Award, the Indie Reader Discovery Award, and more.
LA Weekly hails her as a top indie writer redefining Indian culture and comedy for global audiences.
She is a former journalist for Bloomberg and RTHK, with work in The New York Times, CNN, and Bloomberg.
To delve deeper into the success story of the ‘Blade King of India’, Sonakshi Datta of GoaChronicle had a detailed conversation with ‘Ace of Blades’ author, Reenita Malhotra Hora.
‘Ace of Blades’ Author Reenita Malhotra Hora
What led to the births of Topaz and Supermax?
The idea of launching razor blades was not a dream. It was a calculated engineering obsession. RK didn’t just want to make blades. He wanted to build India’s first stainless-steel razor blade and create a grooming industry that didn’t exist at scale.
He approached Wilkinson Sword for a collaboration. They quoted him a price that made no sense for India. So, he did what only RK would do: if you can’t partner with the best, hire the best away. He brought on ex-Wilkinson engineers to help, and in August 1970, Topaz was born. The name came from Sumana, his brother SN’s wife, a small detail that speaks to how intertwined family was with everything the Malhotras built.
Topaz immediately stood out. Superior performance, sharpness, durability. RK knew he needed visibility, so he tapped into his film connections. Through Yash Johar, Topaz appeared in films long before product placement was an industry buzzword. Next, he built a sophisticated direct-sales army, the Malhotra Sales Organization (MSO), which visited stockists every two weeks with military discipline. That consistency built trust, brand recall, and dominance.
By the mid-1970s, the Malhotras commanded 80–90 percent of the Indian blade market. That figure is so astonishing that people often ask me if it is a typo. It isn’t. Dominance attracted government scrutiny. The Monopolies Inquiry Commission came knocking. RK argued his own case, not out of ego, but conviction. The commission stalled and later dissolved, but the message was clear: RK had built something too big to ignore.
When the government froze prices on base blades, RK innovated around the blockade. He launched Bharat Silicon, a coated carbon blade that justified a higher price point. When you closed one door, RK built another door.
Stronger, sharper, and engineered in stainless steel. Supermax was born from betrayal and brilliant foresight.
After the family split, India had two Topazes in the market: one made by RK’s company, Vidyut Metallics Ltd., and another made by family competitors who held rights to the name. RK realized the trademark might slip away, so he made a surgical move: he started printing VIDYUT, the company name, on every Topaz wrapper.
Each print run, the font got bigger, and bigger, and bigger.
By the time the name Topaz left his hands, the market associated quality with Vidyut, not the word ‘Topaz’. This was intentional. Strategic. Surgical. So, when RK launched Supermax, the trust migrated with him. He poured everything into it and prepared Vidyut Metallics Ltd. to stand alone. Not as the heir to Topaz, but as the next giant of Indian grooming.
Then came the guerrilla phase. Dealers who wanted Vidyut Topaz now had to take Supermax too. One case of Supermax for every 15–20 cases of Topaz. They complained. They cursed. They still took it. RK shifted the spotlight away from product names and onto the manufacturer. If the market trusted Vidyut, then any new blade emerging from that house would inherit that trust.
When a container of Vidyut Topaz was seized in Dubai, he fought the case and lost. But the loss gave him ultimate clarity: he needed complete vertical integration. Control of steel, machinery, tooling, every inch of the supply chain. No one would ever choke his business again.
And slowly, defiantly, Supermax began to rise. Without Topaz, without family support, without inherited protection. A brand built from engineering, grit, and pure strategic aggression.
By 1998, Supermax dominated the southern market with over 90 percent share, and RK’s other brands had captured the north and east. Territories once considered his brothers’ domain.
What contradictions defined Rajinder’s journey to the cutting edge of perfection?
RK was a man of magnificent contradictions, and I say that with love and exasperation in equal measure. He was a visionary who revolutionized Indian manufacturing, yet he remained bound by the deeply patriarchal traditions of a Punjabi business family. He craved independence, fleeing to England partly to study, partly to explore new life opportunities at an early age, and then partly to escape the clutch of his formidable parents, Harbans Lal and Kaushalya, yet spent his life entangled in family obligations he couldn’t refuse.
He built an empire on precision and quality, yet made business decisions with his heart as often as his head. He believed success was ‘99 percent luck and 1 percent pure, bloody good luck’, which sounds like a punchline until you realize it is actually a philosophy.
Work as if everything depends on you. Accept that nothing is guaranteed. Keep going anyway. He taught Jindal Steel how to roll razor blade steel but never secured an exclusive contract, probably because he trusted too much, or was already building the next thing before he’d finished paying for the last. He was always short on cash, always reinvesting, always stretched thin.
When Gillette offered to buy Supermax in the early nineties, he was tempted. But his wife Veena and his sons said no. They believed the company could become a global powerhouse. RK was frustrated. But he deferred to family. Because that’s what he did.
The ultimate contradiction? His extreme traditional mindset was at once his greatest strength and his greatest weakness. It gave him the iron will to build an empire from Calcutta’s post-war scrap heaps. It also made him vulnerable to the very family structures he had spent his life navigating.
What were the obstacles that RK faced throughout his journey? How were they overcome?
Where do I even begin?
Regulatory battles: When the Malhotras controlled 80–90 percent of the blade market, the Monopolies Inquiry Commission came knocking. RK argued the case himself, because why hire lawyers when you’ve got conviction? He successfully stalled the commission until it was dissolved by the government anyway.
Price controls: When the government imposed a price freeze on base products, RK innovated around the obstacle, introducing Bharat Silicon, a coated carbon blade that justified a higher price point.
The family split: His brothers VP and SN weren’t always aligned with his vision. They dismissed his Bombay factory as his ‘toy’. When their father, exhausted from refereeing, encouraged them to divide the business, what followed was brutal. Stolen files. Alleged strikes. Legal battles over the Topaz name. A price war so ruthless, it nearly destroyed RK’s business. His son Raju was sent to physically secure a factory in Calcutta, which is the kind of sentence that sounds like fiction but absolutely is not.
Losing Topaz: His brothers took the trademark. For a moment, it looked like everything might crumble. RK pivoted to Supermax and got scrappy. Guerrilla marketing, forced purchases, vertical integration. He taught himself to never be vulnerable again. The Steel Wars: VP launched a ruthless price war and seized control of RK’s steel supply. It almost ruined him. His sons secretly sourced independent steel. They found another way.
The Actis deal: In 2010, facing the challenges of scale, RK brought in a UK private equity firm as what he thought would be a temporary solution. Instead, it was an ending. He was edged out, handed the hollow title of ‘consultant’, and legally barred from ever making razor blades again. He tore up his first consultant paycheck. ‘I do not need to be paid to run my own company’, he said.
How did he overcome these obstacles? The same way he approached everything: by refusing to accept defeat as final. ‘When adversity strikes’ he used to say, ‘don’t resort to the rear-view mirror’.
What lessons could be learned by budding entrepreneurs through RK’s journey, its ups and downs, and his personal and professional sacrifices?
First: Vertical integration is survival. After losing the Topaz trademark and having steel supplies seized, RK became obsessed with controlling every step of the process. He taught Jindal Steel how to roll razor blade steel. He acquired blueprints to build his own cold rolling mill. The lesson? Never be at the mercy of a single chokepoint someone else can squeeze.
Second: Brand the company, not just the product. When RK knew he might lose Topaz, he shifted marketing to emphasize the manufacturer, Vidyut Metallics Ltd., so customers trusted the people behind the quality, not just the name on the box. When Topaz disappeared, Supermax slid right into its place.
Third: Pivot faster than your circumstances. RK never dwelt. When he lost his trademark, he built a bigger brand. When his steel supply was cut, his sons found another source. When regulators came, he argued the case himself. Entrepreneurship isn’t about avoiding disaster. It’s about surviving it and building something better.
Fourth: Family is complicated. RK’s story is inseparable from his family. The support, the betrayals, the partnerships, the price wars. The lesson isn’t ‘don’t go into business with family’. It’s: understand what you are trading when you do.
Fifth: Know when to let go, or don’t. RK never really let go, which is both his tragedy and his triumph. He built something extraordinary, watched others take the wheel, and spent his final years convinced they were running it into the ground. The question every entrepreneur must answer: Is control worth more than peace?
And finally: Success is 99 percent luck and 1 percent pure, bloody good luck. Work like everything depends on you. Accept that nothing is guaranteed. Keep going anyway.
What makes ‘Ace of Blades’ a must-read for all?
Because it’s true. And because true stories, the complicated, occasionally absurd ones, are the only kind worth telling.
Ace of Blades isn’t a sanitized corporate biography. It’s written by RK’s daughter, which means you get the fights at the dinner table, not just the office cabins. You get the price wars and the family politics. You get the Gillette offer and the family vote that rejected it. You get the man who built a five-billion-blade-per-year empire and was then banned from his own factory floor.
In an era captivated by stories of family dynasties, from succession to real-life corporate sagas, this book offers something rare: an insider’s view. Not the official history. The truth of it. The chaos and the triumph.
It’s also a portrait of India’s economic transformation, from post-independence entrepreneurship through the License Raj to globalization and private equity, told through one family’s extraordinary journey. If you’ve ever wondered what it actually takes to build something from nothing in a country that’s building itself, this is your book.
And the ending? At RK’s cremation, among the ashes, his daughter and two grandsons found a single double-edged blade. Unscathed.
Some endings write themselves.
