In the 1980s, my grandfather — the Lala everyone knew — lost his business overnight because someone he trusted betrayed him.
He never got the chance to rebuild.
He didn’t even get enough years.
My father was 16–17 when he left school to stand where his father once stood — learning how to judge walnuts by grain, saffron by fragrance, almonds by soil.
Life hit him too.
The shop shut down.
He took a government job, raised us, and kept going — quietly, stubbornly.
But he never forgot the hills.
Even today, he travels to Jammu, says his prayers, and returns with walnuts, almonds, and saffron not for convenience, but for memory.
When I once asked, “Why bring so much from Jammu?”
he said,
“Bhakk re budbak! Jammu se mere baap ki yaad aati hai.”
And that one line built this brand.