Corner of comic cakes, the whole thing

BUSINESS IDEA

It’s a bakery business. And since there are so many bakeries around the city, it’s tough to survive. So the main idea of my C3 is to sell products and services that are clearly comic themed, such as, selling cupcakes, bread-sticks  pastries, and chocolates which are in the forms of comic characters or resemble them in some way in a very artistic and aesthetic manner.

MISSION AND OBJECTIVES

The objective is to create a niche market. The bakery industry in India carries stiff competition and due to recent price hikes in raw materials the barriers to entry have increased making it difficult for the non-differentiators to survive. So with a niche market our business will be able to grasp some of the share in the market and rule in it afterwards.

The mission is also to provide adolescents, young adults and adults with a different meaning and experience of bakery, different from what they have known until now.

The theme is simply comic, based on comic characters of DC and MARVEL comics. Collaboration with them also brings much sponsorship helps them gain their image in India.

Main emphasis is on locations or shops so as to make people realize that they have entered a comic world rather than a commonly perceived bakery.

CURRENT MARKET SITUATION

Pest ANALYSIS

POLITICAL FACTORS   

-high import duty for machinery, preservatives, raw materials

-strict government regulations for providing shelf life products

- Government through Public Distribution Scheme (PDS) distributes and sells wheat all over and Food Corporation of India (FCI) provides the major storage and infrastructure facilities.

-But FCI storage system is age old and inadequate and many studies indicated that there a significant loss and pilferage takes place from FCI run storage go downs.

ECONOMIC FACTORS 

-due to low shelf life issues 20% of daily breads are thrown out resulting low margin of profit for most of the bakery business.

-therefore, resulting in product extensions

- India being the second largest producer of wheat, saves the cost of importing high quality wheat and flour.

- Entry barrier into this category is quite high

- Indian bakery industry slowly adapting the western culture of going away from artisan bakers and towards more wrapped and specialty products in the categories like breads, cakes and biscuits, which have now become an important fixture in modern retail outlets. 

- The total bread production in the country is estimated to be 3.75 million tonnes annually growing at a rate of about 6 per cent although the organized sector is said to be growing a little higher rate of 8 per cent.

- Bakery industry growth- 10-12% within the last decade. But industry structure remains same.

-Industry going more investment in production of bread and rolls due to more and more introduction of middle class consumers.

SOCIAL FACTORS

-Using consumer insights, businesses have started to bake more and fry less. Health products are a key USP for most businesses.

- Most of the innovations in this category are focused upon the development of healthy or functional variants such as natural, functional, light or low carbohydrate and organic breads.

- Key factors contributing to the growth of processed food industry are change in socio-economic environment, newer raw materials, additives, packaging materials, indigenous availability of plant & machinery, and import polices.

-more introduction of middle class and young consumers in this category.

TECHNOLOGICAL FACTORS

-High import duty on machinery

- Bakery equipment are available locally. Also bakery ingredients manufacturing business is flourishing primarily for the reason that there are many small scale operators require technical support and these ingredients manufacturers offer total solutions to them to improve their quality. In bakery industry therefore, we have a few big and many small businesses.

-More implementation of innovation due to usage of atta in place of maida, resulting to upgradation of machinery and production facilitates.

SWOT ANALYSIS

Strength

-The USP itself. Consumers always expect for something different and out of the box, especially from monotonous industries like bakery

-comic shaped cakes and breads skillfully manufactured out of healthy wheat flour, fully baked.

-the idea of a C3 shop is more of a corner of comic characters and less of a typical bakery shop. Giving it a unique edge over competitors

-more employee friendly environment of business

-a special sector for chocolates (Brown Heroes), which is beyond any target market.

-more like a comic world the “cake” way..

-use of whole grains for making breads.

-much unique environment, employees dressed as comic characters.

WEAKNESS

-       High differentiation may lead to non-acceptance by many

-       Shelf life issues may hamper profits

-       High innovation leads to more investment in machinery and raw materials, more costs

-       The firm’s strategy to provide high quality low price, may hamper the brand image.

OPPURTUNITIES

-again the USP helps in grasping a huge opportunity in the market

-high differentiation may lead to more consumer favoring and market leading

-the out of the box, trendy, comic look would appeal to youth highly.

-high range of merchandise will lead to more attraction hence more sales and increase brand value

THREATS

-hike in the prices of raw materials like sugar, vegetable oil, wheat flour and milk, may hamper profit margin

-more followers of the same concept may arrive and provide stiff competition

- The government’s import duty policy for bakery machinery, preservatives and raw materials is also a cause of concern

CONSUMER INSIGHT ANALYSIS

As I visited one of the bakery shops few days earlier, they told me that customers expect new varieties every day or same product categories with variations. With a recent survey in omegele.com, it was we came to learn that people are more likely to welcome unusual and interesting ideas like this, as the business has so many product varieties to offer. But some feel that the comic theme is a bit geeky. With further research it was also learned that people would like to come for the comic feel, as they think it’s a great idea to portray comic characters through breads and pastries. People will love it when they would see a comic stripe coming as a pastry to them, and we came to know about these from the survey itself, as one of them said, “You better make pastries in comic book shapes”.

TARGET MARKET

Although our main target is the age group of 10-24, we are mainly thinking of appealing to the comic lovers’ society and who are also mad over pastries, breads and cakes. So it clearly appeals to the youth who like to think and act different.

MARKETING MIX

PRODUCT/SERVICE

The products we offer are different from other bakery products. Here, cakes, breads, brownies, breadsticks, chocolates are in the shape of comic characters and comic stripes.

Customers can literally read comics on cakes or pastries that are the differentiation we provide.

We use high quality upgraded machinery for producing the food products, high use of innovation makes us do this.

We are against the use of more preservatives; we use healthy vegetable oil and whole grain wheat flour and even atta for producing the food varieties.

We also provide merchandises such as T-shirts, C3 special addition comic books, cups etc.

-employees in the shops dressed and serving as comic characters, to provide more liveliness of the theme to customers.

PRICE

Our pricing strategy mainly leans towards quality leadership. We are mainly planning to sell the theme and the quality to the target market and gain advantage.

We will have a value based pricing.

We would like to provide an excerpt from the menu

Blade of brown (chocolate brownies in shapes of batarangs)-Rs 150, one box

Bread of steel (breads in shape of superman)-Rs 40 each

Faster than light (pastries in shapes of Flash)- Rs 55 each.

So it clearly defines that we are selling nothing else but the value, quality and the theme.

PLACE

For market testing, the first month we are opening up with two stores across the city and then slowly we are going to scatter.

We are mainly emphasizing on our shops by not naming them or identifying them as shops but corners, where the creamy world of comic lies.

We are not adopting the franchisee concept as we are not big enough. Though we are saving on the transportation costs by attaching the production plant with the cake shop itself, to avoid messiness we are also allowing customers to come and take a look at how the superheroes are being produced.(exclusive distribution)

PROMOTION

We are likely to use print and OOH advertising tools and unlikely to use TVCs as we find it is irrelevant in this context.

Although we are planning to have pamphlets distributed from the stores, and have a facebook page of the business.

The USP itself is also enough to lead to word of mouth advertising.

Competitions like, “to be continued” welcoming the customers to tell what happens next in the comic stripe, or they who they want to eat next...

INVESTMENT

-as we are focusing more on exclusiveness, money is going to be needed for the shop and machines in lots.

-we would be specializing in or licensing in a unique bakery machinery system, having their plates separately made.

-we are planning to open only one store across the city. The size of the shop would be approximately 10,000 square feet, so that is around Rupees one crore for Pune.

- investment needed for the interiors.

-employee dress

-sponsors from marvel and dc

IMPLEMENTATION

-The first step is to create an employee friendly collaborative environment aiming for cultivation

-Employees need to be trained well to handle to new born innovative machineries to produce goods

-More focus on interior designs and uniqueness of the environment

-Separate audit and finance department to handle the finance of the business

-Daily survey and monitoring of the shop activities to bring changes in strategy or improve them

-the advertisements would focus more on the liveliness of the comic characters, or making customers feel that the characters are brought to life.

-the shop would have its production plant attached to the shop itself, clearly visible to customers, saving costs of transportation and removing issues of freshness.

-more focus on efficiency. The strategy is to employee more and more people, so as to make people see them as more and more comic characters…this will bring efficiency and save time.

-customer feedback boxes at the shop (corner)

- eliminating the concept of shop and naming it as a corner.

MONITORING AND CONTROL

-website designed to continuously monitor customer feedbacks, facebook page as well.

-employees will also be questioned about their experiences with their customers and vice-versa.

-

Maa, I can't sleep

Maa, I can’t sleep.

A pain crawls up my spine, the loneliness shouts aloud

And the abrupt commotions in my head

Keep me from closing my eyes,

Keep me from peace

Maa, I can’t sleep,

The bulb on the wall flickers,

I turn it off and it’s too dark around,

Fear rides my nerves

And I am awake all night,

Remembering my deeds and my sins.

Maa I can’t sleep,

The dark lids of my eyes

Have imprinted her face; she smiles

And reminds me of the good old times.

But I broke her twice, all the way down;

And so I can’t sleep.

Maa, for my lost love and her broken heart

I can’t sleep.

Eyes

I never can look into your eyes again,

Those serene and drowsy eyes

That asked the brain, to wear a smile;

Big and dark eyes,

They once left me stunned for awhile

I never can look into your eyes again,

Those falling and rising eyes

That spoke of the buried ache;

Restless and wandering eyes,

They shone like the moon on the lonely lake

I never can look into your eyes again,

Those angry and revolting eyes

That showed me the end of our time;

Oblivious and eluding eyes

They no more pine

The Lost Home

I lost my home,

A home that was not mine;

A sweet and lovely home

A home so bright

The September breeze brought me there,

From a far distant land;

It took time to fall in love

With the home even loved by the ants

The day was her friend and the night was her wine,

Which I spilled on her womb

In the blue winter shine;

And which gave birth to warmth and rhyme

Her tainted, distorted skin showed

She was not a maiden, on them

Lovers of the past lay their marks;

The jealous me roared, “She must be washed”

So the days passed me by

As I groomed her white,

She smiled and embraced me with love;

Her arms, perfumed and bright

But soon came the summer and I am away

Lone she was left behind,

Frantic for her face I came back running,

But in her arms a new lover I could find

I lost my home

A home that was never mine.

My night and I

Since long, I am colored yellow;

Hanging from the sun, I make a girl smile

And her black eyes remind me of night

For years I have been so busy,

I have been to places at the same time,

Here and there, grey and white,

I think I have lost myself

In her hope and her celebration

I hate when the Sun shines for long,

My tired eyes have always looked

For the lady who shines in black;

My head aches and I need her shoulder

And I weep bright

But yet she is nowhere to see

I have seen bleeding knees and wet eyes

And leaves going dry

And so I seek for my night

To make my sorrows blind

-          Shouvik Rryan Roy

See you soon...

She had bright eyes, which could speak volumes, which could reflect a sense of pure affection, care, love and wisdom. She often used to take me away from Ma to a place which I hated initially, but started to love gradually.  She would make me sit on her lap, beneath the dim orange light bulb on a cold cemented surface and melodise my soul with her enthralling voice. My grandma said she sounds horrible but I found her no less than a nightingale.

She always would sing me songs of self-belief and hope, “Amra korbo joy, amra korbo joy akdin” (We shall overcome someday) and “purano shei diner kotha” (good old days) were one of her favourites and mine too. Every time she sang she filled life in those songs, gave it a new meaning every day. I preferred her over the television, as it never pulled me closer to its heart, hug me and make me feel heaven as she used to, although it sang the same songs. I always used to ask her one question “Mamuni, when is the war going to end?” and she would answer with a smile “Soon”. She was different, than the rest, than everyone.

She begun to move away from me as we both grew older, the only difference was she grew wrinkles and I grew more skin. The so called daily life tore us apart.

 This time when I came to meet her, I saw her sitting on the same place and singing the same songs. But I found I was too heavy for her laps; they have grown too weak to carry me. She welcomed me with a smile, the smile which masked loneliness and pain. I asked her to show me the reports; she refused at first but finally showed; now the mask was down. I asked in nervousness with my eyes on her “This is going to get better, this will end wouldn’t it?” tears rolled down my eyes. She wiped it off and answered “Soon”, she wore a smile as I looked at her…age didn’t snatch away her beauty. “Never lose hope my child, always be strong” she said holding my right hand, “everything happens for good, I have a journey to make, I will see you soon son”. I asked her about the journey in complexion but she refused to say, but said I will come to know of it soon, I smiled. While I left, she asked me not to look back, I kissed her cheeks and walked away, I didn’t look back.

I doubted her when she uttered the word “soon”, always have, until my parents got a call at 8 PM of the night. They seemed to be in a hurry after that, they just told me it’s related to Mamuni. I gathered my strength, I was doing what she had asked me or rather told me to do, “Be strong” I said to myself.

We reached there by 8.45, and all we could hear was the croaking of frogs coming from the backyard, no songs this time, the veranda was alone; it was all silent.

As I stepped in I saw people sitting on the floor with their heads down, some of the heads looked familiar. But as I advanced I saw more people surrounding a lady who was lying on the floor and wrapped a brown sari around her, she was my Mamuni. I kneeled down, I was stunned. I could hear cries from behind, but I didn’t look back. My eyes were not ready to move from the smile that she still wore, they were intact, both of them.

Now I believed the word “soon”, she was always right. It ended; she is free, from all her pain. Now I came to know the journey she was talking about. I didn’t cry, as I thought not to be that selfish. I pushed back my tears, bend down and with a broken smile kissed her cold cheeks and said

“I will see you soon Mamuni, goodbye for now”

-SHOUVIK rryan ROY

ROBERT MICHELLE

Last night I dreamt I was back in the cemetery again. Every night I close my eyes, I see myself dropped in that same hellish cemetery which would scare me out of my wits. The place is filled with deep grey darkness making the graves made of black stones barely visible, not so far away I could see a beam of light focussing on a couple of graves. I take my footsteps ahead to reach near them and I see there remain two graves purely visible, not a particle of dust could be seen on each of them. I get closer to read the names, desperately. One of them reads ‘Marcos Miller’; a name unknown, but the other one would have a name that is known and yet scary, the name which would wake me up in fear every day, and that name would be mine, ‘Robert Michelle’...known and yet scary.

They say that dreams are nothing but exaggerated visions of your reality while you remain unconscious. I agree, but never in my life did I have any experience with graveyards, except the time when my mother was buried, but I hardly can recollect the scenes as I was too small. And never have I had a thought of killing myself, and never did I meet any vicious accident, then why such dreams every night? The answer remains with the heavens.

Though every night the dreams would scare me in my unconscious, the consciousness that follows would always be beautiful...every day.

I wake up, and then see my wife waiting beside me on the bed, carrying a cup of tea, like every day. She smiles at me; one which I never saw before...beautiful, I return the favour by smiling back. I sit up and take a sip of the tea. And then suddenly I hear a voice... “Robert...Robert, come over here son, we need to talk”, this would be my Dad. I pass through the common hall to reach the dining room where he awaits me.

“Sit my son;” tapping on the chair besides him he asks, “I wanted to talk to you regarding that Greson’s Land contract theft”.

“Yes dad I am on it; I am very close to that thief now, another move from my side and he is grabbed...just need to get his name” I speak ardently. After a pause, “No son, I don’t want you to go after him,” dad speaks nervously, “whoever the thief is, he is much powerful...and I already told you not to take up Greson’s cases anymore, I smell mischievousness in his acts.”

“Then what do you want me to do dad? Sit and let that bastard steal more from him? Whatever he is, after all he is my childhood friend,” I speak irately, “I have to find him Dad, for the sake of my old friend” and stand up and go back to my room. Dad shouts my name from behind, but I don’t look back.

The whole day passes with me thinking over how to track down that thief, but firstly I need to get his name...and I feel pity for not having found it till now. With that acute amount of dismay, I go back to sleep.

 Darkness arrives...and then the dream follows again. But this time it’s unique, as I step ahead for the two lightened graves, I could see a man standing just between the graves, wearing a polished black coat with a pair of black trousers of silk which could easily reflect the dim moonlight. I go near him, and see him holding a couple of red files in his hand...he holds them tightly. I get closer; his eyes are red, and I can see blood stains on his coat, he gives me a devilish smile and prompts, “Poor chap” and then suddenly disappears behind the graves.

I run at the back of the graves to find him; and I see nothing but both the names again on each grave, one of them being mine...and then suddenly, I wake up.

A new day had been awaiting, this kind of weird dreams should always be succeeded by new days.

I see my wife sitting beside me, holding a cup of tea. I decide to sit up and be the first to give a smile, but then I look at her and see tears rolling over her cheeks and one drop would fall in the cup. I look down at the cup and see it has no tea...but blood. I look up at her in absolute perplexion, “Have it, this is the only thing left.” She cries. “Is this a joke Samantha?” I shout and in heavy fear I push away the cup away from me, it falls down on the floor and blood splashes everywhere around its broken pieces. I run away leaving her behind and get to the dining room where my father sits for me.

 Dad weeps as well; his silent cry draws me towards him and I put my hand on his right shoulder, “Can you tell me what’s happening over here? Why both of you are crying and acting so strange...Samantha just gave me blood to drink, what the hell is happening?” baffled I asked.

“I told you not to go after him,” Dad stands up and faces me, “but you didn’t listen to me...you never did,” he cries louder grabbing my shoulders with both hands, “now look what you have done.” He turns his head to his left and I followed him, and what I see makes my perplexion reach its highest level. Two dead bodies lie on the floor...each carried by a cadaver pouch of white, and one priest stands just between them with the Holy Bible in his hands.

I move closer to the bodies, and ask the priest anxiously “Who are these Father?”

“Check yourself son”, he answers with a weird smile. I sit down on my knees and unzip the pouch of the body that lies on my left; I stop till his neck, strange...the face looks very familiar and resembles very much to the man I saw in my dream last night, “What’s his name Father?” I ask eagerly looking up to the priest. By keeping the same smile he replied “Marcos Miller...son, your cousin”. A sense of horror chills up my spine, I gather up the strength to unzip the whole pouch...and then I see him wearing that same coat with bloodstains on it, the same pair of trousers and the same red files being held with his hands tightly...my cousin, impossible. I move  a bit back in nerviness, and then I look at the pouched body on my right, my sixth sense tells me that I know whose face remains beneath the pouch. Controlling my nervousness I slowly get my right hand closer to the face and unzip the pouch. I stand up and step back in terror, my sixth sense was right, the face is mine...it’s me. I don’t believe my eyes for what I am seeing; it all seemed strange and weird... “It’s purely a hallucination” I say to myself. “No its not son,” reacts the priest, “you both have surrendered your souls to Jesus...by killing each other, may your souls rest in peace...amen!” I look at him in complete bewilderment.

 “And Sorry Robert, we have to bury you at ‘St Vezoran’s Cemetery’, the one near to the war zone...sorry for not having you rested in a beautiful garden of remembrance...population, the one to be blamed.” Vehemently continues the priest looking at me, with the everlasting mysterious smile on his face. Everything seems and sounds so strange and incomprehensible...surely a hallucination.

And then suddenly, my head turns involuntarily to my left, dad stands there tranquil looking into my eyes brusquely, “You are the one who took away my son from me,” he speaks as he steps towards me, “you killed my son you scoundrel.”.

“Dad is right” Samantha comes from the right, “you killed my husband, you widowed me.”

Both of them slowly step towards me, I feel as I am going to get mashed in between the revulsion spawned from both the sides. Both Samantha and dad look utterly dreadful, I have no clue of what they were uttering. I prefer to run...run away from them, and I do so; everything that is happening out here would frighten me to death. Bizarre sights, bizarre occurrences, bizarre loved ones, my life has turned bizarre. I run swiftly and take the staircase to go down, and suddenly my right leg slips over a tread and I roll down the staircase.

All of a sudden, everything goes blank, darkness invades my eyes. And then a voice runs over my ears, “Wake up Robert, enough of dreams, it’s time for some reality” I open my eyes and see the same man...black court, a pair of silk trousers, and the red files in his hands...Marcos Miller. “Good time dreaming, isn’t it brother? Good time lying to yourself,” I try to grasp the inexplicable meaning of his words, as he speaks again “you look puzzled, don’t be, now you are safe back to reality...trust me.” I look at his coat again, the blood stains were gone.

“What do you mean I am back to reality? Am I not dreaming this? I don’t believe you,” I prompt as he looks at me smiling like the devil, “I need to get back to my family, and think I need to see a psychiatrist, I am so sure I have been hallucinating, something really bad is happening to me” I put my right hand on my forehead as I speak.

Marcos starts laughing, “Take it easy Robert” he gestures with his hand... “I want to ask you something,” he comes to my right, “Don’t you think dreams and reality are true siblings?”

I give him a bewildered look, “stop lying to yourself chap, look at you, this is your reality and those were your dreams, you were scared and never believed that you were actually dead” he quotes. I take a step away from him; and suddenly everything starts connecting, the two dead bodies and the two graves, the words of dad, Samantha and the priest...everything. “You were so afraid of your reality that you turned it into a bad and ugly dream, and thought your dreams were your reality, a great switch I reckon...you have been dreaming since long my friend” says Marcos.

Every word he just uttered contains a profound amount of absolutism and meaning. He is right; I had been lying to myself out of fear, now I remember everything, now I know who I am, now I know who Marcos is, and now I know what is real and which were dreams. But what have I been doing? Died to live again out of fear? Such a coward I have been.
I start weeping, not because I realise that I am no more alive, but for I have not only been lying to myself, but my family as well.

“So finally you get it, finally you get that we are nothing more than wandering souls,” he laughs “and see, there lies our graves,” he points towards the two graves, that now really belongs to both of us, “I forgave you for killing me, and I want you to do the same.” He pleased. “But why the hell are you buried beside me?” I ask him quickly. He looks down smiling and looks up again, and quotes “That was my last wish” I need not say a word; I give him a smile and move towards my grave that lies ahead, maybe Marcos has got his answer

‘Robert Michelle 1980-2011’ reads the black stone; and beneath it lies my other side. I look up and then see Samantha and dad coming from far, Samantha is carrying a bunch of roses, they have come to pay me a visit and the flowers must be for me. Now nothing looks appalling, everything seems beautiful, and there is no sign of darkness, even the black graves turn white...there is no fear but light everywhere.

Both of them carry broken smiles on their faces;  but they no more look dreadful, they put the bunch of roses on my grave together as I come and stand between them. I put my arms around their shoulders and feel their white pain, and I know they can feel me as well.

-          SHOUVIK rryan ROY