The Green Tube and the Blue Jar: Why One Promise Lasted

Boroline and Afghan Snow were born out of the Swadeshi movement. Both personal care classics carried the same swadeshi spirit and made genuine promises to their customers — so why does one still sit in Indian medicine cabinets while the other has nearly disappeared? The answer lies not in the quality of their products or the sincerity of their founders — but in the nature of the promise each brand chose to make.

The Birth of Boroline – An Affordable All-Purpose Cream:

Around 1929, Gour Mohan Dutta watched Indians pay exorbitant prices for the British antiseptic Borofax. He decided to reverse engineer it — same quality, fraction of the price, made in India. He set up GD Pharmaceuticals in Calcutta where he prepared a concoction of boric acid, zinc oxide, and lanolin and simply named it Boroline. Though positioned as an antiseptic cream, it quickly found its way into homes as an after‑shave, a remedy for chapped lips and cracked heels, and a go‑to for light wounds and burns.

The Second World War caused a metal and tin supplies scarcity in India. Boroline’s tubes used metal for their packaging and their supply chain got hit. They improvised to glass and recycled tin with a specific label indicating that due to war, their packaging was modified but the product was original. In a time when everything became more expensive, Boroline chose to cheapen the tin, not the cream.

When India gained Independence in 1947, Dutta reportedly gave away one lakh tubes free to celebrate the end of British rule. Almost a hundred years after its launch, that classic dark green tube with an elephant symbol continues to be a staple in most first aid kits at home.

Afghan Snow – Vintage Luxury in a Blue Jar

A visiting Afghan King was given a gift hamper by an Indian perfumer and he remarked that the pristine white cream of one of the products reminded him of the pure, untouched snow of the mountains in Afghanistan. And that is how Afghan Snow was born.

Around 1919, E S Patanwala, a Mumbai based perfumer, decided to make a luxurious face cream fit for royalty, something that would find its place in the boudoirs of Indian princes and the British gentry he served. He had extensive knowledge of oils and perfumes and envisioned selling luxury in a jar – not just in any jar – in a blue jar imported from Germany with labels made in Japan. He created an exquisite face cream that would go on to be used by royalty and endorsed by Bollywood beauties.

Unfortunately, this branding backfired during the Swadeshi movement. The name and the imported packaging caused people to wrongly assume it to be a foreign product and boycott it during the Swadeshi movement. Sales plummeted, and Patanwala had to directly reach out to Mahatma Gandhi to help save the brand. Gandhiji had to publish a clarification in Young India that this was a Made in India product.

The endorsement reframed the brand and Afghan Snow too became a symbol of the Swadeshi movement. Afghan Snow put itself on the biggest stage of aspirational beauty by sponsoring the first international Miss India pageant in 1952. The company’s annual “Patanwala Ball” at the Taj Mahal Annexe hotel was famous among the elite. Afghan Snow lived in dressing tables and ballrooms, not in first aid kits.

Then arrived the era of fairness creams.

The Subtle Art of Brand Positioning

The 70s to 90s era saw a blitzkrieg of personal care products in the Indian market, ending market dominance that both brands enjoyed. Lakme, Ponds and Fair & Lovely challenged Afghan Snow in the beauty creams segment, whereas Boroplus, Borosoft, Vicco Turmeric competed with Boroline in the antiseptic market. Innovative packaging, modern formulations, lightweight textures, “fairness” ingredients, multiple product ranges under the same brand, different price points – it was truly a consumer’s market. The legacy packaging and thick cream composition of Afghan Snow and Boroline no longer held the same appeal.

Boroline expanded its packaging to introduce plastic tubes and tubs. It introduced mini packs, staying true to its promise of making the product affordable to the common man. Understanding that it could not compete with fairness or lightness, it pushed and reinforced its legacy branding – the “hathi wala” cream that your grandparents always trusted. Boroline’s hold on the rural markets helped it stay relevant despite competition.

Afghan Snow’s classic imported jars and label – the core essence of its premium feel – added to its production costs, making it difficult to compete in price-sensitive markets. At a time when beauty conglomerates, with heavy marketing budgets, were hitting the market with a wide range of products at competitive price points, these premium costs proved to be its undoing. The elites moved on to Lakme (then owned by Simone Tata), Shahnaz Husain products and imported Elizabeth Arden creams. Post liberalisation in the 90s, the market was flooded with international brands. The family-owned Afghan Snow, with its limited product range could not successfully defend its customer base.

When Needs Outlast Wants

Almost a hundred years on, both Boroline and Afghan Snow continue to be family-owned legacy businesses with no significant debt in their capital structure. Yet, Boroline reportedly has annual revenue of around Rs 200 crore (2025) and has a market share of around 20% to 25% (antiseptic cream segment) while Afghan Snow, which once catered to customers as far as Iraq and Burma, struggles to expand beyond Mumbai.

Boroline stayed true to what it set out to do: providing a quality product at an affordable price. And by doing so, it quietly embedded itself in the everyday life of its customers. Volatile markets and emerging competitors failed to dislodge its foothold as mothers across India handed Boroline to daughters for chapped lips and dry elbows.

Afghan Snow’s promise was luxury in a jar. The white cream in a blue jar was luxury until the next fad appeared on the market. It positioned itself as an aspirational product – an area where trends determine relevance. Afghan Snow could not evoke the loyalty that Boroline did. The difference between need and want was never so stark. Customers need Boroline. Afghan Snow was a want — and wants change with every new product launch.

And in the end, what we need is what quietly stays in our homes and memories. Afghan Snow and Boroline are popular classics from my dad’s era, yet, only one found its way into my childhood. Every time I open a tube of Boroline, I am transported back to being a six-year-old with freshly scraped knees and my Dad gently applying the fragrant white cream on them.