When Neil Armstrong reached the moon, he saw some friendly-looking people there, with strange headgear. His conversation with them went something like this:

Armstrong: “Who are you and what are you doing up on the moon?”

Aliens: “We are Sikhs. Assi te Partition de baad hi aithe aa gaye (We came here after the Partition)!”

This is one of the many jokes about the ubiquitous Sikhs, found today in almost all parts of the world, running a variety of businesses, from small food joints to massive manufacturing industries. Nine out of ten businesses run by the Punjabis today are by the Khatri Punjabis (found both among Sikhs and Hindus because of their common ancestry) who really landed on the business map of India after Partition. Arriving as penniless migrants from what was then called West Punjab, their enterprising nature and legendary capacity of hard work, fuelled by adversity, made them the formidable component they are today of the India growth story.

The Khatri Sikhs are the sweet-talking, non-confrontationist businessmen hailing from clans like Bedi, Bhalla, Arora, Ahluwalia, Pahwa and so on—many of whom trace their ancestry to the 10 Sikh gurus. The industrial hubs of Ludhiana, Jalandhar, Yamunanagar and Delhi, of course, grew on the back of Khatri enterprise. The Pahwas of Avon cycles, Kapurs of Atlas cycles and Munjals of Hero Honda pioneered the bicycle industry in Ludhiana; just as the Sondhis, Chadhas and Wassans established the Rs 2,000-crore Jalandhar sports goods industry, which grew around the hundreds of sports goods craftsmen and traders fleeing Sialkot in Pakistan in 1947.

Akshay Bector, Cremica Group	Anand Mahindra, Mahindra & Mahindra

Most of them still speak the sweet, west Pakistani dialect of Punjabi that differentiates them from their loud and somewhat brash Jat Sikh brethren. Though the post-Partition years saw several Khatri families growing from small-time traders to big business interests, every decade has spawned absolutely new success stories. Like the Rs 300-crore Doraha (near Ludhiana)-based Kashmir Apiaries, started by Jagjit Singh Kapoor, son of an impoverished school teacher from Mirpur in Pakistan-occupied Kashmir. “When my father came here,” Jagjit tells Outlook, “he began inviting other fleeing Punjabis to Doraha, and soon all of us were into small businesses. After graduating in 1971, I also tried my hand at several small ventures, but most failed. In the early ’80s, I did a course in beekeeping, began selling boxes for beehives and soon began buying honey from people who had bee colonies.”

Kashmir Apiaries is today the largest Indian exporter of honey, selling a variety of honey products to 48 countries, and Jagjit is proud of being able to adhere to stringent international standards. Displaying the quintessential Khatri trait for hard work and risk-taking, he says, “I used to travel third-class to find buyers for my honey and saved on hotel bills by sleeping on night trains, and bathing at railway station waiting rooms.”

Deepak Pahwa, Bryair Asia	Pawan Munjal. Hero Honda

Unlike the ever-cautious Jains and  Banias of north India, taking risks comes naturally to the Khatris, an instinct honed possibly by centuries of survival in the invader-prone northwest. So, in 1953, when nascent Chandigarh was just a cluster of a few houses and government offices, Darshan Singh, originally from Rawalpindi in Pakistan, started Aroma hotel, the city’s first commercial property. “It didn’t make much money initially,” says his son Manmohan, “and the Punjab government made it into a resthouse to enable us to get by.” Over the years, though, Aroma’s become a Chandigarh landmark, and the family has recently added a four-star property, besides interests in the hospitality business in the US and video distribution.

In the same mould is Gautam Kapur, who established Radisson hotel in Jalandhar some eight years ago, at a time when opening a five-star property in the city was considered foolhardy. But the 57-year-old had started his hugely successful hand tools manufacturing business also in adverse conditions, in 1985, when militancy was at its peak. “It was a time,” he recalls, “when businessmen were moving out of Punjab, but my father who was a leading motion picture distributor of north India said we should not leave a town which had given us so many good decades.”

Onkar Pahwa, Avon Cycles	Satish Wassan, Wassan Exports

Risk-taking comes naturally to Punjabi Khatris, a trait possibly honed by centuries of survival in invader-prone northwest.

Among the Punjabi Khatri enterprises which have ‘arrived’ in recent years is the Rs 700-crore Cremica group of companies started by Ludhiana housewife Rajni Bector in 1989. From making ice-cream and bakery products for friends, the group’s become a household name in confectionery, condiments and sauces in north India, with an annual growth of almost 30 per cent. Bector, as her son Akshay informs us, is probably a distortion of the subcaste Bakhtiars, hailing from a few villages around Ludhiana. In 1996, when McDonald’s was entering India, the Bectors beat several established players like Britannia and Bakeman’s to get a contract to exclusively supply buns to the American chain’s restaurants in India. The family has been in business since 1880, mainly as commission agents in the mandi town of Ludhiana. But Akshay attributes much of their present success to the opening up of the Indian economy, as their enterprise coincided with the increase in consumption and their products found acceptability in newer geographical areas and rural markets.

Though the Khatris believe they are warrior Kshatriyas who took to trading, there is some ambiguity about their place in the varna system, as they have for centuries been in mercantile occupations. Their children received solid education; many found their way into the army, banking and judiciary. In recent decades, though, many Khatris from service backgrounds have given in to their merchant genes and entered business. Deepak Pahwa of Bryair Asia, for instance, is a first-time entrepreneur. His grandfather was a renowned eye surgeon of Punjab, his father was in insurance while numerous uncles and cousins of his were in the army. Deepak himself began with a small air-conditioning unit some three decades ago to grow into a Rs 500-crore engineering giant with a presence in 40 countries.

Sharp hotelier Gautam Kapur in Jalandhar

“Yes, we are a docile community,” he observes, “who will never be found protesting and sitting on dharnas, though we may talk a lot.” Avinash Chopra of the Rs 500-crore Hind Samachar group of newspapers, first established in 1948, is more direct about typical Khatri traits. “We are basically ‘darpok’, not given to taking strong stands, and get a high from making money. Other communities are jealous of our success and influence, but do not see the hard work behind it.” Kishie Singh, a Jat Sikh journalist and keen observer of Punjabi culture, sees Khatris as “the politest people I know, great networkers, though not necessarily very honest in business”.

Vijay Chopra, Hind Samachar Group

Despite their financial clout and proximity to New Delhi, the Khatris, oddly, have not made it big in politics. Traditionally landless, the community has always survived on trade and business, due to which they got marginalised in the agrarian-based politics of north India after Partition. “There is a feeling,” says Avinash, “that it is better to fund political parties and use the influence to prosper rather than join them.” Unlike other media barons, his father Vijay Chopra has refused offers from mainstream parties to join politics. Even those who do join—like Gautam Kapur who flirted with the Amarinder Singh camp in the run-up to the Punjab assembly elections this year—beat a hasty retreat because, as he says, “Politics put me off. We Khatris have never had a helping hand from the polity because of our minimal presence there, but we have still made it.”

Everyone is hugely proud of Prime Minister Manmohan Singh, their best known political face, but freely acknowledge he is not a typical politician who can be counted on for “favours”. The Punjabi Jat Sikh, it’s often said, is known for agriculture and litigation (from never-ending disputes over land). The Khatri Sikhs, on the other hand, are not hobbled by either. Their business philosophy is best illustrated by the phrase, ‘sanoo ke lena ji (how does it concern me)’. It means minding one’s business.

Defining Khatri-Ness

• Unfailing politeness: Avoid disputes; if there is one, sort it out cordially with minimum fuss
• Compromise formula: Never, ever, rub a government official the wrong way. Even if one has to do something unethical, clench your teeth and do it.
• No taboos: No enterprise is hands-off. Even take on trades meant for certain castes, if there is money to be made there.
• Show wealth: Love big cars and grand mansions—make sure everybody and their neighbours know when they ‘arrive’.
• Love family: Prefer to operate within joint families, though times are changing. Extremely religious, conservative and god-fearing.
• Stay out of trouble: Will never fight for a cause, opting instead to instigate others to do the same.