by Sonu Bhasin
The parting was not dirty, but it was not easy either. Since the partners owned a stake in the business, they also owned a stake in the factory. The working partners demanded their pound of flesh from the brothers. They asked for the 1898 shop along with its inventory, customers and workers.
‘It was very painful,’ remembered Kuldip and added, ‘We were also very angry. How dare they demand our heritage?’ Kuldip was ready to take a lathi and stand at the heritage shop, daring the working partners to come near it. ‘I was very angry and ready for a fight,’ said Kuldip.
Sohan Singh, the elder brother, calmed the heated emotions and agreed to give the partners the original shop with the permission to use the name for a period of five years. In return he ensured that the partners relinquished their claims on the rest of the business.
Sohan Singh had good reason for calming his hot-headed brother. He had seen the business grow in Delhi. The account books for the financial year 1971–72 were still to be closed as 31 March was still a month or two away.
‘Sohan bhapa knew my sales figures and knew at the time that I would easily cross Rs 10 lakh of highly profitable sales just from Delhi. But the working partners did not know that!’ Kuldip said, grinning wickedly. ‘If they had known then they would have increased their demand as they were 30 per cent partners of all business. That’s why my brother told me to cool down and agree to the split before the end of the financial year.’
Twenty-three
‘Maal Nahin, Kuldip Ki Personality Bikti Hai’
‘KULDIP SELLS HIS PERSONALITY, NOT HIS MATERIAL’
Now that it was a Dhingra family business once again, the brothers worked out the division of work between themselves. Sohan Singh concentrated on producing the paints in Amritsar and Kuldip Singh focused on selling. Gurbachan, by then an economics graduate from Punjab University, managed the Amritsar shop and the formulations at the factory. With Sohan Singh as his guru, it did not take young Gurbachan long to learn the intricacies of chemical engineering. Though he was still treated as the baby of the house, Sohan Singh was slowly giving him more responsibility at the factory. With Kuldip as the salesman, the factory could not produce enough to keep up with the demand. Competitors in the market could not understand how a novice like Kuldip could ramp up the business so fast.
‘It was not easy but it was not difficult either,’ said Kuldip. He used his understanding of people’s behaviour, something that he had picked up on his long hitch-hiking trip, in business. He realized that selling goods on credit to the dealers was part of the business. If he wanted to sell more he would need to extend credit, but then he would need working capital to continue business till the money was paid. The credit period could vary between three and six months in the traditional Amritsar business. Working capital remained a problem for smaller businesses. Kuldip was a man in a hurry and kept telling his brother to increase production but funds remained the constraint. So, Sohan Singh told Kuldip, ‘Yeh aise hi tuk-tuk karke chalega [Business will grow slowly].’
Not willing to have the business grow slowly, Kuldip devised an innovative method to get money in advance. He launched a deposit scheme for his dealers. Dealers could give money to the company as a deposit and earn FD rate plus 2 per cent on it. The same deposit was also deemed as a security and an equivalent amount of credit extended to the dealer to enable him to buy more paint from Rajdoot Paints. Further, at the end of the year Kuldip would give the dealer 1 per cent extra material on the net purchases of the dealer.
‘The scheme was a big hit,’ Kuldip said, laughing with delight. The dealers saw the opportunity to use the surplus family money in their business while at the same time keeping the family happy. ‘It was a win-win for everyone, and money started pouring in as deposits.’
The scheme enabled Sohan Singh to invest in more plant, machinery and raw materials on the one hand, and on the other, the dealers started ordering more as the amount of deposit was the credit extended. So, if a dealer kept Rs 1 lakh as deposit, he found that he could order more on credit. And then, at the end of the year he got material worth Rs 2000 as bonus. ‘And then at the end of the year he got material worth 1% more on his purchases in addition to FD rate + 2 per cent rate of interest on his deposit. It was an excellent “secured” return for the dealer. I told my brother to just keep signing cheques for new machines and I would take care of the funds,’ said Kuldip.
Funds in the shape of deposits continued to pour in. Dealers even started taking out their bank fixed deposits to give the funds to Kuldip as the net return was significantly higher. Soon there came a time when Kuldip did not need more deposits from the dealers. The business was set and banks were open to looking at extending credit.
‘But the dealers refused to take the deposit back,’ laughed Kuldip. ‘They wanted the money to continue to earn above-market interest and they wanted the extra bonus as well at the end of the year.’
The deposit scheme was not the only reason for the growth of the business. Kuldip worked the market tirelessly. He met with the traders and the contractors and made sure that he visited his valuable customers regularly. He also realized that the small-scale unit running out of the Golf Links house could not sustain the growth of the business. It was time to invest in a proper office.
Ajmeri Gate was an area that had many wholesale shops and the brothers looked for space there. An entire first floor was identified and money had to be paid for the pugree. In the 1970s, landlords did not charge market rent because of rent control. Instead, they took a large security deposit, typically close to the value of the property, from the tenant. This deposit was called the pugree. Kuldip needed to pay the pugree amount in order to take the space on rent. He asked his uncles for a loan.
‘We were still the poorest in the family back then,’ said Kuldip. The uncles refused. Kuldip was hurt but he took the situation in his stride.
Sohan Singh and Kuldip Singh were determined to succeed. ‘My brother told me, “So what if we have nothing? We will work hard and grow our own business,”’ said Kuldip. The spirit of their father was truly alive in the sons.
They scraped together the money, had to borrow from professional financiers as well, and took the space on rent. The place alternated between an office and a store. Kuldip had a table in one corner and the rest of the space was filled with the stock. ‘It was on the first floor with a narrow stairway, with the typical old Delhi construction. The spiral stairs were steep. If you were to see it today you would wonder how we took all that stock up to the office,’ said Kuldip. Not only had the stock to be taken up the stairs, but it also had to be brought down when the sales orders had to be delivered. ‘But we were young and full of enthusiasm and it did not bother us then,’ said Kuldip.
Kuldip’s enthusiasm was infectious. The market loved him. ‘People used to say “maal kahan bikta hai? Yeh to personality bikti hai ji [Kuldip sells his personality, not his material],”’ laughed Kuldip. His forceful and friendly personality created almost instant bonds with the trade.
‘But our product was also good,’ Narendra, the first employee of Rajdoot Paints in Delhi, cut in. ‘If the product is not good, if people return the product, no matter how good the personality, maal nahin bikega [material will not sell],’ he said. ‘Rajdoot Paints was a quality product. It was not the top end of the market but in its segment it was among the best.’
‘The other thing is that from day one, KS [Kuldip] told me that we had to do things according to the system and order. No hera-pheri,’ said Narendra. ‘Also, he worked very hard. He was the malik [owner] but it made no difference in his behaviour. If there was a delivery to be made he would make it himself. You could see the difference even back then. His cousins were just about maintaining their business and he was growing fast,’ said Narendra. ‘The cousins would go to a club and play there. But KS would not even look in the direction of the club. Obviously, Rajdoot had to do well,’ continued Narendra.
‘The 1970s were not the years of the me
dia . . . media as we know it today,’ he continued. ‘That media came only in the 1980s.’
Kuldip, the one with the ideas, came up with various initiatives that would get him publicity. ‘I would put boards for Rajdoot Paints on the buses,’ Kuldip said. He would coax traders to get their name boards painted again and incorporate Rajdoot Paints on it. He also put up large umbrellas, branded with Rajdoot Paints, outside the shops. ‘Whatever I could do, I did to get more and more visibility for my product,’ he said.
Spin bowler Bishan Singh Bedi, Kuldip’s friend from Amritsar days, had made a name for himself in the Indian team and was an integral part of the cricket lexicon. Kuldip used his connection with his friend to organize dealer cricket matches at Feroze Shah Kotla stadium. He even got Salma Sultan, Doordarshan’s popular newsreader, to be the master of ceremonies for the day. ‘The dealers were delighted as they would get to rub shoulders and interact with Bishan Singh Bedi during lunch. The dealers felt important and they were impressed,’ Kuldip said.
Kuldip was aware that if the trade felt good about being associated with Rajdoot, they would sell more. The Oberoi Hotel in Delhi had opened for the public in 1965. By the early 1970s it was the only premium private hotel in Delhi. Its competitor today, the Taj Mansingh, opened its doors for the public only thirteen years later, in 1978.
It was considered grand to be seen even in the lobby of the Oberoi! Kuldip organized dealer meets in this hotel, something not even established companies were doing. Rajdoot, a small company by any standards, projected a larger-than-life image by inviting its dealers to the Oberoi.
‘The dealers would all wear their best suits and ties and polished shoes and come to the Oberoi,’ Kuldip grinned. They would be impressed by the sheer cachet of the setting. ‘We were a small company but we behaved like a big one,’ said Kuldip.
Rajdoot Paints benefited greatly by the association with premium-ness. This reflected directly in the sales on the ground.
The association and building engagement with the dealers also continued at Golf Links. The Romanians were still there on the first floor. By then Meeta and Kuldip had become good friends with the tenants, and they did not object when Kuldip wanted to set up an office on the barsati floor of the Golf Links house.
Kuldip converted the barsati, a small room on the terrace, into an informal office. The garage continued to be used as a store and the backyard was used as a mixing ground for material that came from Amritsar.
‘I know that what I was doing was not quite legal,’ said Kuldip, ‘but Golf Links proved to be a very good address to be running my office from.’
The small-scale unit from Golf Links was about to diversify its business.
‘One day I had got a call from Arun Nehru, who was the branch manager of Jenson and Nicholson and used to sit at Asaf Ali Road,’ said Kuldip. Arun Nehru wanted Kuldip to come over to his office for a discussion. ‘It was close, so I walked down,’ said Kuldip.
Jenson and Nicholson had their factory in Calcutta. The finished goods would take a while to come to Delhi from there. A large contractor had wanted material at short notice. The Calcutta factory of Jenson and Nicholson would not have been able to send out the material on time. Arun Nehru knew Kuldip and was familiar with his work. He asked if UK Paints would make the synthetic enamel for that order for Jenson and Nicholson.
‘I jumped at the offer!’ said Kuldip with a broad grin. ‘If Jenson was asking us to supply material to them it meant that we were good.’
The boxes were supplied by Jenson. The stencils for the name approved by the Delhi sales office were supplied by Jenson & Nicholson. The experienced workers of Golf Links now started producing paints for Jenson and Nicholson as well!
‘Later I realized that this business was very good. Payment was almost immediate. But most importantly it gave us great confidence,’ said Kuldip.
Meanwhile, Meeta had grown to become a confident wife of an ambitious businessman. She took care of the house and her daughter. She also started going to the office to manage the account books.
‘Kuldip had told me categorically, “I don’t want you to be like those women who play cards every day,” but I was never that kind of a woman anyway,’ she said a bit peevishly! She was a creative person; her creativity found a manifestation in decoupage, the art of decorating an object by gluing coloured paper cut-outs on to it and combining it with special paints effects, gold work, and other decorative elements.
Her interest—later to become a business as well—in decoupage started on an American holiday. Kuldip and she were staying at a friend’s house in New York. Opposite their apartment was a notice for decoupage classes. While Kuldip was in meetings, Meeta would go to the classes and learn various techniques. She later experimented with decoupage and made some table lamps for the Golf Links home.
‘One day some friends were over for dinner. They were the owners of Kapoor Lamp Shades,’ said Meeta. Kapoor Lamp Shades is a Delhi-based company set up in the 1940s. By the 1970s it had created a name for itself in luxury lighting and lamps.
Deepak Kapoor was at Golf Links for dinner and a lamp caught his attention. ‘Meeta, where did you get this lamp from?’ he asked. ‘Get it? What get it? I made it,’ bristled Meeta.
‘What? You must be joking,’ said Deepak, who dealt with lamps every day as they were his business.
Meeta took Deepak to her work room and with a flourish pointed to the lamps in the room, some of which were unfinished.
‘Deepak just looked at me and then went to one lamp and asked, “What do you call this lamp?’’’ Meeta said. ‘I said, “I don’t call it anything. It is just a lamp.”’
Deepak went from lamp to lamp and said, ‘OK, this one, 400 pieces, that one 200 pieces, and this particular one 500 pieces.’
Meeta was flummoxed. ‘I told him that I made one piece at a time. How could I give him that many pieces?’ she said.
Deepak replied, ‘Then maybe it is time you started doing it as a business!’
He agreed to take the lamps one piece at a time as and when Meeta finished making it.
The idea seeded by Deepak took root in Meeta’s mind. She soon had a thriving business of interiors, furniture and, of course, lamps.
‘My mother-in-law helped as she was living with us,’ said Meeta. The indulgent grandmother looked after Rishma, so Meeta could follow her own creative passion and to be the hostess to many business associates of Kuldip.
‘I would hold my meetings at Golf Links and would also invite clients at home. I provided them with good hospitality,’ said Kuldip. Calling the clients to Golf Links also sent out a subtle message that while Rajdoot may be a small brand, the family behind the brand was a khaandaani (aristocratic) one. ‘Yes, it was a marketing and image-building exercise. You can call it a gimmick if you want to. But it worked,’ said Kuldip.
All the various initiatives of Kuldip saw the business curve on an uptick in Delhi. The Amritsar factory could not keep up with the demand.
‘Most of the market I was developing was here in Delhi. So, transportation from Amritsar added to the cost and reduced our margins,’ said Kuldip.
Sohan Singh and Kuldip talked about the possibility of a factory in Delhi. Land was available in Sultanpur, an area on the outskirts of Delhi. The brothers liked the location and started the process of buying the land. The house in Golf Links was mortgaged for funds to buy land to set up a huge factory.
While there was talk of a new factory on the business front, there were murmurs in the extended Dhingra family about only one brother living in the big family home at Golf Links.
‘People talk without knowing, but the talk spreads,’ is how Kuldip explained the gossip. The uncles, aunts and cousins saw Kuldip and Meeta living at Golf Links; they also saw Kuldip using the house as his office and business unit. The rumours quickly reached Amritsar.
‘Maybe people thought that I would take over the entire house,’ said Kuldip.
Amrit Kaur told her husband that
it was time they moved to Delhi. ‘The factory was going to be set up and the children needed to go to good schools. The house was there and we could ask the tenants to leave,’ said Amrit Kaur.
The pull of the Golf Links house was strong. Sohan Singh and Gurbachan were building houses in Amritsar for themselves. These houses under construction were left behind.
Sohan Singh with his family moved back to Golf Links in 1974, the year the land was bought in Sultanpur for the factory. Gurbachan, twenty-four years old, was left alone in Amritsar to manage the business there. The Romanians left the Golf Links house fourteen years after they had started renting it. Kuldip and Meeta were living on the ground floor.
‘But when my brother and his family came back I decided to move to the first floor as they needed a bigger space for their family,’ said Kuldip.
Twenty-four
‘Vinu Ne Haan Kar Ditti Hai’
‘VINU HAS SAID YES’
Sohan Singh and family moving back to Delhi meant that the small-scale unit could not be run out of the home any more. The house was now filled with people—there were six children of various ages. Meeta and Kuldip were blessed with another daughter, Jessima.
The family believed that with five small girls in the family it was better not to have trucks and workers come in at odd hours at night. An office space was needed and this time it was decided to buy the office rather than rent one.
The Ajmeri Gate office and warehouse became the main office. Sohan Singh continued to focus on the factory; he made sure that the building was built according to his specifications and the machinery put in the right place. Kuldip was responsible for the office and all the sales activities. The Ajmeri Gate office had a couple of workers to load and unload the material and to manage the stock. A part-time accountant came once a week to check and maintain the account books. Narendra continued to be the salesman going out to the market every day.