by Sonu Bhasin
‘Dekho kismat kaisi hoti hai [see how fate plays out],’ said Pritpal. I was surprised at the sudden sombre tone of his voice. ‘The same doctor moved to Delhi and stayed in Golf Links,’ he continued. It was the same Dr Santosh Mehta who operated on Kartar Singh’s brother—Niranjan Singh—for appendicitis.
The room suddenly felt colder. A chill ran down my spine. I looked at Pritpal, speechless.
Pritpal broke the silence, lifted his head as if looking at his God above, and said, ‘Kismat bhee kya cheez hai. Ek bhai ki jaan leni thee us doctor ne. Kartar Singh to bach gaya magar Niranjan Singh ki jaan le gaya [Look at fate. The doctor had to take one brother’s life. Kartar Singh was saved, but Niranjan Singh lost his life to the doctor].’
Four
Taking Charge at Age Ten
With Niranjan Singh’s passing away, his young widow had to take stock of her life. There was the factory in Najafgarh, the shops in Delhi and Amritsar and the four children.
‘My mother was in a state of complete shock and business was the last thing on her mind,’ said Kuldip.
The responsibility of the four children was her priority. Among the first things she did was to call back both her sons from Kharagpur and Ajmer respectively. She needed her entire family around her in this time of crisis. Sohan and Kuldip came back without a murmur. The Dhingra family ethos prevailed; Kuldip’s uncles helped their sister-in-law dedicatedly in both personal and business matters.
While the family was deciding the future of the business, Surjit Kaur decided to send her eldest son back to IIT. ‘Mummy realized that her eldest son needed to complete his education at IIT and so he was sent back,’ said Kuldip. He, on the other hand, was not sent back to Ajmer but to Delhi Public School in Delhi which, in 1957, was functioning out of tents.
After Sohan Singh went back to IIT, his mother dismantled the Delhi business. ‘She had no idea about how to run the business,’ Kuldip said. His uncles helped sell their factory at Najafgarh to National Chemicals and wound up the Delhi shop. The fledging export business was also wound up. The proceeds from the sale of the business were invested in other people’s companies for regular interest income. Prem Nath Motors, a well-known motor dealership, had a good reputation, and in the late 1950s, took fixed deposits from the general public. Private companies typically gave higher rates of interest on deposits than banks. Since Kuldip’s uncles knew the owners of Prem Nath Motors, they believed that the capital would be safe. A large sum was invested there and it enabled Surjit Kaur to get a regular interest as income for the family.
Kuldip’s uncles rallied around the young widow and helped her to manage the financials, legalities and other matters. They helped her rent out one floor of their house to the Romanian embassy. The rent added to the family income. The family was not wanting financially, but the business that Niranjan Singh had assiduously built came to an end.
While Kuldip’s mother sold off the Delhi business, the Amritsar shop continued to be close to the family’s heart. They could not, and did not want to, sell that shop as it was a piece of family inheritance. This was the shop from where Niranjan Singh’s father had started his business in 1898. ‘My grandfather and great-grandfather had set up their business in 1898 through this shop. It was the original legacy of our family,’ Kuldip explained.
The shop was managed by two managers. All the Dhingras followed a policy set up by their father of letting professionals manage the businesses. The professionals were usually partners and were called ‘working partners’. Niranjan Singh had, however, tweaked the policy before his death and had employed professionals as managers in Amritsar. ‘These employees were not working partners with profit-sharing but just managers,’ Kuldip said.
The question before the family was how Surjit Kaur would manage the business in Amritsar and manage her young children in Delhi. An added concern was that she had no experience of running either the shop or the business. To solve this problem, the family fell back on their culture and values.
‘My mother went to Amritsar and took the managers with her to the Golden Temple. There, in front of Babaji, she made them swear that they would work honestly and will not cheat,’ said Kuldip. The two managers bowed before the Granth Sahib and took an oath that they would work hard with honesty and will not cheat the family. The two managers were made profit-sharing partners after they swore to work in the interest of the family. ‘Each of them was formally given a 25 per cent share in the profit,’ Kuldip shared. As the shop was owned by the Dhingra family, the business paid a rent to Surjit Kaur. After netting off all expenses, the profits were shared between the two working partners and Surjit Kaur.
‘The two managers worked honestly through the years,’ said Kuldip. Once a year, the two working partners would come to Delhi to meet his mother. They would present the books of account to her and hand over the cheques for 50 per cent of the profit.
This could only happen in a family business. It would be unthinkable for a professional CEO to take a couple of his senior people to the temple and make them take an oath of honesty. But it worked for the Dhingra family and the new working partners kept the business going and growing.
While Surjit Kaur was focusing on cleaning up the financial and other aspects of their life, Kuldip took it upon himself to manage his siblings. Since his elder brother was in IIT Kharagpur, completing his engineering studies, Kuldip saw himself as the man of the house. He was only ten years old but he did not let his young age come between him and his duty.
‘I was the eldest at home as my elder brother was not there. There was no question in my mind. I had to look after my younger brother and sister—they were just kids,’ he said matter-of-factly. ‘They were told to listen to me, and my word was law. And whatever my elder brother told me was law for me,’ he said.
‘We used to be terrified of Kuldip bhapa [elder brother]. He was the one who took it upon himself to discipline us,’ laughed Ashi.
Looking at the confident woman, who later handled Kuldip’s Russia business from Moscow, it was difficult for me to imagine her being afraid of anyone or anything. But she was!
‘He had come back from his Army School, and Babbi [Gurbachan’s pet name] and I used to look at each other and say, “Ab army se aa gayen hain nah, to ab disciplining shuru hogi [Now that he has come back from the army, our disciplining will start].” It was almost as if he was practising on us what he had learnt at the Army School,’ chuckled Ashi talking of Kuldip.
‘He always used to be bossy and strict and say to us, “Enough of play, park tho vapas aao te padhai karo [come back from the park now and study],”’ remembered Gurbachan. ‘He used to keep telling us to study as we had to make our lives,’ he added. Even today, the easy relationship between the two brothers does not cross the line into total camaraderie.
Gurbachan’s daughter, Sunaina, agreed. ‘I have rarely seen my father joke with Bade Papa [loosely translated as father’s elder brother]. There is always a level of seriousness between them,’ she said.
Kuldip continues to regard Gurbachan as chotta phra, younger brother, with a mixture of protectiveness and fondness.
Back then, Kuldip was also the timekeeper for his siblings. At times there would be guests at home and all the children, along with the elders, would be in the drawing room. ‘And when it was time, he would look at us and with his eyes do an ishara [gesture] and tell us to go to study,’ said Ashi. What rankled the younger siblings was that the rules were only for them. ‘Khud to woh khelte rehte the magar humko bolte the ki padho! [He would tell us to study but would keep playing himself]. But he set a good example by being a good student himself,’ shared Ashi a bit plaintively.
Kuldip, however, was a benevolent dictator. ‘He used to read to us very often at night before we went to sleep. He wanted to inculcate in us the habit of reading,’ said Ashi. Through Enid Blyton’s books, Kuldip would take his brother and sister to faraway lands of wishing trees, enchanted forests and the adventures of Noddy and his frie
nds. The siblings would look forward to the stories.
But all the stories Kuldip read out did not prevent Ashi and Gurbachan from complaining to their eldest brother when he came home from Kharagpur!
‘As soon as Sohan bhapa would reach home both of us would run to him—each of us would hold one arm of his and start complaining. “Kuldip bhapa did this and he told us that and he does not let us play when we want to . . .!”’ said Gurbachan. The litany of complaints went on and on. Sohan was the genial, affable big brother. He was tall and handsome and had blue eyes. He would laugh and crack jokes with his younger siblings, whom he dearly loved. And when he heard the complaints about Kuldip, he would call him and tell him to stand facing the wall, with his both hands outstretched on the sides as punishment. Ashi and Gurbachan loved it! ‘But jadon Sohan bhapa wapas IIT chale jaande si teh pher shuru ho jandi si same kahani [But when Sohan bhapa would go back to IIT, the same story would start again],’ rued Gurbachan albeit fondly.
Kuldip and his siblings remembered the years at Golf Links after their father passed away with fondness. They had many friends and cousins in the neighbourhood and their days were spent in each other’s homes, playing together and even having meals together. ‘One of my maternal cousins, who lived in Old Delhi, could not speak English. But we could,’ remembered Gurbachan. ‘So when I would go to their house, he would show off in front of his own friends. He would tell them, “Eh mera phra hai. Innu vadiya English bolni aandi hai [He is my brother. He knows how to speak English well],”’ laughed Gurbachan. The cousin would turn to Gurbachan and request him to speak in English in front of his friends. Gurbachan would say, ‘Hello, how are you? I am fine and hope you are too.’ Simple things like this. But it made the cousin proud.
Kuldip and his siblings knew that their cousins and uncles had more money than they had, but it did not bother them. ‘We had to sell our car after our father died but our uncles took care of us. Any time Ashi and I had to go to the club for swimming, we would accompany our cousins in Chachaji’s (father’s younger brother) car,’ said Gurbachan. ‘We also went on holidays with Chachaji’s family a couple of times,’ he added.
As a child, Kuldip was bright and the natural leader in his group of his friends. ‘He was hot-headed even then but everyone looked up to him as he took command of any situation,’ his cousin, Pritpal, shared. Kuldip had a large group of friends and some of the girls had a massive crush on him. ‘He had a good personality even then,’ Ashi declared.
Ashi was the one in demand in Golf Links as the girls saw her as their route to her handsome brother! She was pampered by Kuldip’s friends. ‘I remember that there was a fancy dress competition for the kids in the colony,’ said Ashi. The organizer, a girl Kuldip’s age, came to Ashi and told her to come dressed as Lord Krishna. ‘I wore some normal clothes and took a flute and went to the competition. Of course, I got the first prize!’ she laughed, ‘and it was all because of Kuldip bhapa.’
Ashi did not remember a time when Kuldip did not command respect. ‘From a very early age he was the wise one. Everyone respected him,’ she said. While Gurbachan and she joked and laughed with their eldest brother, they could not take any liberties with Kuldip. ‘He was serious. Mazaak-mazook kam kar sakte the un ke saath! [We could not laugh and joke with him],’ said Ashi of Kuldip.
Kuldip managed his siblings and an active social life with aplomb. He did not let any of his extracurricular activities affect his studies. ‘I was a topper in school and like my brother liked to play games,’ he said.
‘He is the carbon copy of his father,’ said Pritpal, another cousin, ‘fond of the outdoors, passionate about swimming and horse riding.’
‘I could have joined the IAS if I had wanted to,’ Kuldip shared with me. ‘Maybe if my father had been alive, I could have studied on. Who knows?’ he added.
Five
Back to Our Roots
When Sohan Singh was getting ready to graduate from IIT, his classmates were sure that he would be among the first to get a job. Sohan himself wanted to work as he wanted to supplement the family income. He had the comfort of knowing that the Amritsar shop was being managed by the working partners.
Pritpal, their cousin, and Sohan were a year apart in age and were good friends. ‘Sohan bhapa and I used to talk about a lot of things,’ said Pritpal. Sohan also talked to Pritpal about the options he had on campus. ‘There was this big foreign company that had called him for an interview,’ remembered Pritpal. Sohan went for the interview at the multinational. The interview went well and he was offered a job. The starting salary was about Rs 600 per month. That was a good amount in 1960.
Sohan accepted the job offer, thanked his interviewer and got up to leave. The interviewer, a senior officer of the company, leaned back in his chair and asked Sohan to sit down again. A bit nonplussed, Sohan sat down and waited to hear what the senior person had to say.
‘During the interview Sohan had told the interviewer his personal background. So, the officer knew about Niranjan Singh, the sold factory, the closed shops, the running shop and everything,’ said Pritpal.
The officer looked at Sohan and said, ‘Son, I am old enough to be your father. Will you for a moment forget that I am the officer? Think of me as a friend of your father and take my advice.’
Sohan had no choice but to listen to the officer! But he was also curious. He nodded.
‘Don’t take this job,’ the officer said.
The stunned Sohan could only stare at the officer.
‘You are applying for this job only because you lost your father,’ said the officer. ‘You come from a business family, and if your father had been alive you would have helped him grow the business, wouldn’t you?’
Sohan nodded.
‘Then my advice is to go back to your business and make it bigger. In fact you should also, at some stage, look at restarting manufacturing? That is where the future is,’ said the officer.
The advice resonated with Sohan Singh. The more he thought about it, the more sense it made to him. The thought of getting his father’s business back on track actually excited him. He realized that he had let the present circumstances colour his long-term thinking.
He leaned across the table and shook the officer’s hand. ‘Thank you for your advice,’ said Sohan Singh and gave back the offer letter.
Surjit Kaur was not happy. ‘What will we do? If you had to do business why did you go back to IIT?’ she said.
Sohan managed to convince her that this was for the better. ‘He told Mummy, “I can get a job but I have to think of my brothers too. What if I am in a job and they are unable to get one? I want to get the business running for them,”’ said Kuldip as he spoke about his brother.
Sohan Singh came back to Delhi in early 1961. While he was looking for options and taking stock of the small business in Amritsar, his uncles, Niranjan Singh’s younger brothers, invited him to come and work with them. The younger brothers, Chattar Singh and Dalip Singh, had a shop in Delhi and they distributed paints. Their business was doing very well and they were planning to expand it.
The uncles saw in Sohan a young, intelligent engineer who could be an asset for their own business. They also saw a fatherless boy who had no family business to fall back on. ‘The Delhi business had been shut down, the factory sold, and the Amritsar shop was self-sustaining,’ said Kuldip. Thus, if Sohan Singh wanted to get into business, he would have had to start something afresh. But his uncles offered him the option of joining hands with them. They wanted him to start a new line of business. Sohan would handle orders for painting large buildings.
Fate now intervened again. Niranjan Singh’s father had had two shops in Amritsar, one of which was inherited by Niranjan Singh. The other had gone to his elder brothers, Harbhajan Singh and Kartar Singh, who had shops in Delhi and Bombay as well. ‘In 1961, Harbhajan Tayaji was the richest in the family as his business was doing very well. I think he did not want the headache of the shop in Amritsar, especially since
he lived in Delhi,’ said Kuldip. Harbhajan Singh and Kartar Singh wanted to sell the Amritsar shop. The younger uncles in Delhi, Sohan Singh’s employers, wanted to get hold of that shop. They were powerful dealers and distributors of popular brands of paints, including Jenson and Nicholson, Nerolac, Snowcem and others. They did not have a distribution outlet in Amritsar and saw it as a god-sent opportunity to expand their geographical reach. However, the two working partners in Amritsar, who worked for Surjit Kaur, Kuldip’s mother, saw the situation differently.
‘They came to my mother and told her that if Chattar Singh and Dalip Singh acquired that shop in Amritsar, it would affect the business of their own shop very badly,’ said Kuldip. The working partners were sure that, as among the largest distributors, Chattar Singh and Dalip Singh would use their influence over the paint companies and would edge the other shop’s business out. The solution, according to the working partners, was simple. They wanted Niranjan Singh Dhingra’s family to buy the shop and thus have two shops in Amritsar.
‘The idea was good but it was difficult as we did not have enough money,’ remembered Kuldip. But the idea also resonated with Sohan Singh since he was not happy working with his uncles. An intelligent man, Sohan Singh had wanted to break out on his own and restart the business his father had left. The family decided to speak to the eldest uncle and ask him if there was a way they could buy the shop.
Chattar Singh and Dalip Singh were not happy and immediately offered a cash-upfront deal to their older brother. ‘But Tayaji really wanted to help us. He was very fond of all of us and also appreciated that we had no father and that we were young boys,’ said Kuldip.