An Accountant Writes
Vol 1, Issue 5 | May 2026
CA Nithya Aravindakshan
From the Editor's Desk
Last month, two Indian companies were trending on social media for controversial corporate policy decisions. Two CEOs with starkly different styles of communication – one doubled down by dismissing a training policy document as “outdated”, while the other issued a cautious corporate response - yet neither response succeeded in reassuring stakeholders. It’s in moments like these that leadership communication becomes a fine art: balancing a legally correct message while addressing stakeholders’ concerns.
The permanence of words becomes a liability when performance does not match promises. When a company files an IPO prospectus, every projection, every risk disclosure, every promise becomes part of the permanent public record. “We will achieve 30% revenue growth” is no longer a line in a pitch to venture capitalists in a closed room; it becomes a commitment to retail investors who will measure performance against that benchmark.
Contrast this with Boroline—a brand that made a promise 90 years ago and has kept it ever since. “Effective antiseptic cream for cuts, burns, and skin irritation.” That promise, made when India was still under British rule, remains the same today. The formulation hasn't changed. The packaging has barely evolved. It simply keeps the promise it made nine decades ago. In a world of constant pivots and rebranding, Boroline's constancy is radical.
The lesson: words create obligations. Companies that treat words as disposable discover that markets have long memories. Companies that treat words as binding commitments, like Boroline, discover that consistency compounds into trust.
Food for Thought
“We will rebuild. We will recover. We will prevail… The Taj Mahal Palace will open for business in one month’s time.” A full‑page ad by the Tata Group carried this promise across the country after the devastating 2008 terrorist attacks in Mumbai. It was an almost impossible feat – to reopen a heavily targeted hotel in one month – yet nobody really doubted it. The nation had seen a determined Ratan Tata standing outside his hotel for days, personally overseeing rescue efforts and promising help. Powerful words backed by an even more powerful, present Ratan Tata.
Contrast this with the standard boilerplate response we are used to. “We are committed to our stakeholders. We value transparency. We will engage in dialogue. A committee has been formed.” It ticks all the checkboxes for perfect corporate communication. Technically correct. Legally sound. Strategically vague. It also sounds hollow.
Template language signals that you are managing optics until the storm passes. Specific commitments signal that you intend to solve the problem.
Is it harder to communicate in specifics when the problem is internal rather than external? Almost certainly. When the crisis is a terror attack, leadership can rally everyone against a common enemy. When the crisis is your own policy failure, specificity requires admitting fault. That discomfort is precisely why template language exists—it preserves deniability. But it also destroys credibility.
