The race is on for a slice of India's fizzy drinks bonanza. Sources at the Department for Business and Trade confirm that at least two major British beverage conglomerates have dispatched senior delegations to Delhi and Mumbai this week for exploratory talks. The target? Partnerships with Indian firms capitalising on the so-called 'Blue Gold' market – a term coined for the surge in premium soft drinks and functional beverages.
This is not just about selling more pop. It's about strategic positioning ahead of a potential free trade agreement. Whisper it quietly, but Whitehall insiders believe a deal on food and drink tariffs could be announced as early as the autumn. The Indian market for bottled drinks is growing at 15% annually, according to leaked figures from the Office for National Statistics. For UK firms squeezed by Brexit red tape, it's a lifeline.
One name being bandied about is Shropshire-based Orchard Gold, a family-run producer of elderflower cordials and botanical sodas. Their CEO, a softly-spoken Tory donor, has been seen at two exclusive dinners at the High Commission. Another is the Brighton-based tonic water maker, Quinine & Co., which is exploring a joint venture with a Bengaluru-based mixer brand.
The politics is delicate. India's domestic drinks industry is fiercely protected. The country's largest producer, a conglomerate with close ties to the ruling BJP, views any foreign incursion with suspicion. But the British pitch is subtle: we bring premium branding; you bring distribution. It's the classic 'partnership, not takeover' gambit.
Downing Street is watching. A senior No.10 source told me: 'We want British businesses to benefit from India's growth. But we must be smart about how we play this. No gunboat diplomacy.' The source's wine glass, I noted, was empty.
The real question is whether the British firms can navigate India's labyrinthine state-level regulations. Each state has its own rules on sugar content, labelling, and even bottle sizes. One industry insider described the current patchwork as 'a nightmare for any centralised supply chain.'
And then there's the 'Blue Gold' hype itself. Critics warn the term is dangerously misleading. 'It's not a resource. It's a marketing category,' a former FCO trade envoy told me over a half-pint of bitter. 'We risk creating a bubble. Remember the cranberry craze in the 2000s? Endless warehouses of unsold concentrate.'
But the numbers are compelling. India's middle class is projected to reach 600 million by 2030. For every new gym, there's a demand for protein shakes and isotonics. For every new office block, a craving for artisanal kombucha. British brands, with their heritage and quality, are perfectly positioned to tap this aspiration.
The clock is ticking. The Indian government is expected to clarify its foreign direct investment rules for the food-processing sector in the upcoming budget. If the window opens, British firms must be ready. If it slams shut, they'll be left clutching bottles of flat pop.
One final thought: the term 'Blue Gold' may be PR spin. But in the corridors of Whitehall, where every deal is a battle, it's a useful rallying cry. As one trade minister murmured to me yesterday: 'It's not just about the fizz. It's about the future.'
Watch this space. The cork is about to pop.
