PRITHVI RAJ SINGH OBEROI aka BIKKI OBEROI

The Legacy of the Luxury Hotelier

It is a sunny winter afternoon when my taxi rolls into the sprawling seventy-acre Oberoi Farms in Delhi-Gurgaon’s Kapashera area. After a long and winding tree-lined drive, I am courteously led into a well-appointed study; the study of a man whom the world knows as, and calls, the last ‘larger-than-life hotelier’: Prithvi Raj Singh Oberoi aka Bikki, executive chairman of the iconic Oberoi Group of Hotels. 

I take in the immediate setting and notice each photo frame, the large globe placed on the plush carpet, the shining mahogany desk, softly and elegantly whisper perfection; the hallmark of the Oberoi Group. I gaze at the outside from the veil of windowpanes and marvel at the sprawl, the well-manicured landscape, and the peacocks that are busy searching for their afternoon worm, unmindful of a visitor observing them, whose mind is ticking faster than a hummingbird’s heartbeat. And the flurry of thoughts is deliberate. They are there because soon sitting across from me will be the instinctive hotelier, Bikki Oberoi, the reasons for which I would discover soon. 

A bearer, all-impressive in regalia, comprising a turley wala safa, black achkan, spotless white churidar pyjama, a cummerbund and impeccably polished black shoes, serves me a hot cup of Earl Grey. And just then, the door opens and in walks the suave and dapper eighty-nine-year-old Bikki Oberoi to share with me first hand, the story of a Sikh family that redefined elegance, style, service, and luxury of the hospitality industry the world-over. A tad frail with the side affects of age and good living, Bikki, however, even at eighty-nine stands tall as inarguably one of the most stellar figures of world hospitality. 

‘I am a proud Sikh,’ Bikki announces as he stokes his mind to narrate the winding journey of the Oberoi Group, which before turning into one of the most successful hospitality stories, was arduous and had to endure much. 

The beginnings were humble. Bikki’s father, Mohan Singh Oberoi, founder of the East India Hotels (EIH), the parent company of the Oberoi Group, and his mother Ishran Devi had to flee their native village Bhaun (now in Pakistan Punjab) in 1922 to safeguard their first-born from the outbreak of plague. To shield their infant daughter Rajrani from the deadly disease the trio headed towards the cool climes of Muree, (a hill station in Pakistan), where Mohan intended to live for some time and support the family by doing odd jobs. He came from a meager background, his father Attar Singh passing when Mohan was an eighteen-month-old infant, his mother compelled to raise him with her father’s limited resources. 

Muree was not what Mohan had expected and the lack of even odd jobs forced him to search for employment elsewhere. As he was versed with shorthand and typing, he believed there would be an opportunity for a government job in Simla (now Shimla), the glittering capital of the erstwhile Raj. The urgent need for work was what made Mohan leave behind his family in Muree and head for Shimla, where he stayed at a friend’s place employed by the Public Works Department (PWD). 

Mohan Singh Oberoi’s destiny, however, had different plans for him. And under the umbrella of that plan, there was no way he could have managed passing the babudom test he appeared for. He failed, for his fate lay elsewhere. And that was in carving out a hospitality empire for himself. However, before Mohan could hurtle in the big league, the same fate ensured that he started at the bottom of the barrel. Allured and enchanted by the glamour that the Faletti Cecil Hotel, (owned by John Faletti) on the Mall exuded, which he would encounter and soak in while marching back from the government secretariat, Mohan vowed that he would not return home without picking up a job at the Cecil.

Cecil

 It wasn’t an easy dream to chase, as the following incident proves. After having confidently walked in through the impressive doorway, he was promptly thrown out by the hallway porter with the words ‘No vacancies.’ With the Sikh spirit of not giving up in every core of his body, as he had grown up on the enigmatic tales of the first Sikh Guru and the valorous ones of the tenth Sikh Guru, Mohan soon strategized to meet the hotel manager on his way home for lunch one day. 

‘I’m looking for a job, sir. Do you have a vacancy at the Cecil? I’ll be glad to take any job,’ said Mohan looking into the eyes of D.W. Grove, for that was the manager’s name. Impressed by the young man’s confidence, his perfect knot of tie, shining shoes and the well-ironed (though not expensive) suit, Grove called him at three the same afternoon. Yes, Mohan Singh Oberoi, the biggest Sikh hotelier and India’s pride began his career as a mere clerk at the Cecil. His pay, a mere fifty rupees a month on which he would soon call his wife to Shimla to stay with him in the one room quarter  allotted to him. Called Band Quarter 4, it was just ten feet by nine feet, and at the bottom of the hill or khud. 

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