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I was born into a Marwari family in Kolkata, one of four children brought up in a vegetarian household. I travelled a lot with my parents, so was introduced to Italian cuisine rather early in life. I was barely 10 years old when I went to Italy as a student of Convent of Jesus and Mary in Delhi. That one-month trip was the foundation of my love for Italian food.
I cooked my first “proper” meal when I was 11 years old. It was a three-course meal. My brother taught me the commercial aspect. He would give me Rs 50 for cooking breakfast for him. Despite having a knack for cooking, I never treated it as anything more than a hobby. I didn’t train as a chef. I never even thought I’d take up cooking as a profession. I wanted to go to Wharton School of Business and become a big industrialist.
Destiny played a big part in where I am. My father was in the marble business. I went to work for him after passing out of school in 1990. My family was very upset, but I was determined not to study further. My work often took me to Italy, and I would either be entertaining buyers or be entertained by others. This exposed me to fine dining, fancy restaurants and wines. I still remember being rebuked by a friend for sitting in a Michelin restaurant and ordering a Coke. I was completely fascinated by food. While people would bring back imported goods like Levi’s jeans from their trips abroad, I would get knives and exotic ingredients.
By the time I was 20, I was financially independent. I had made a decent amount of money, and I was ready to retire. Bookshops appealed to me for the lifestyle they offered: reading is next only to cooking in terms of my passions. I started thinking about opening a bookshop, which became a bookshop and a café, and finally, a café. So, in 1993, I opened a fine dining European restaurant in Hauz Khaz village in Delhi, called Mezza Luna. I thought I would convert it into Delhi’s very own SoHo with bohemian restaurants. But nothing worked for us. We had no power supply; there was a lack of trained staff; we didn’t get a license to serve liquor; I couldn’t buy most of the ingredients here. Villagers would put sugar in the generator and blow it up. I would take an order, go up and cook it, and then serve it. We struggled. Within two years, not much was left of my “lifetime” savings.
I loved London and thought it was the gastronomical capital of the world. So, one evening, during a “crib” session with fellow restaurateur, Andy Verma, I decided I had had enough, and that I will go to London and open a restaurant. Andy and I were going to be business partners.
So I just left. Within a month, I knew I had to come back. I hated the weather. I wanted the basic comforts I was so used to in India. I wanted my breakfast in bed. I was not used to taking the bus, so I would take a taxi everywhere. My local travel budget for the year was over within three months. My annual living expenses were gone in three months. But I had my pride. I knew I couldn’t come back yet. So, we struggled and Vama was opened.
It was empty for the first three months. I didn’t know where my next five pounds would come from. Then, one Sunday, a gentleman by the name of AA Gill walked in. I didn’t know then that he was the biggest food critic in UK. Like all my other guests, I bullied him into ordering what I thought he should order. I forgot all about it, till I got a call at midnight, just before closing. It was the Daily Mail asking to send a photographer for a photo-shoot. The article was published, and we had a full house.
Thanks to Gill, we never looked back. Vama was my Harvard Business School. It taught me how to do business. In the early days, I would wipe 180 glasses after closing to save the £20 I’d otherwise pay for four hours of work.
I came back to India in early 2000, after four years. I tried many things but the only thing I was good at was food. Mezza Luna was still fresh in my mind, so I didn’t want to burn my fingers with a restaurant again. But somehow, I landed up opening Diva in the same year. It worked from day one. Delhi had changed a lot while I was gone. I had seen so many failures before, so I guess I put all my learning in it.
I am very hands-on with the restaurants. All our menus are changed every three months. I still plan the menus and do the specials. But I don’t sit in the kitchen all day. Earlier, I would spend 80% of my time in the kitchen, now it is about 50%. It is an exhausting business – the heat in the kitchen, the seven-day work week, no family life, the most anti-social hours, no festivals and holidays. But I love the thrill of it. It is an addiction.
The only reason Diva did well was because I loved doing what I was doing. I’ve always depended on my gut. I don’t believe in project analysis. I’ve two more units in the pipeline and I haven’t made a financial plan for either. My biggest strength and weakness is my impulsiveness.
I don’t know what I will do when I stop enjoying the kitchen part of the business. I really enjoyed writing the book, Italian Khana, because it took me to local markets in India to find ingredients. I like to experiment with formats. My next restaurant will be an entire floor in a Good Earth store.
I know what I won’t do. I won’t do a fine dining restaurant again and I know that I won’t be going out of Delhi any time soon. But then, as they say, in business, never say never.
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