Biki Oberoi and luxury hoteliering in the age of Airbnb

When the prevailing zeitgeist is to adapt to a "new normal", sometimes it is appropriate to let things be because they are just right. 

When I met the reclusive PRS 'Biki' Oberoi for my book four years ago, I was aware of the legend. The chairman of the eponymous hotel chain was said to be a fastidious sybarite obsessed with details. At his hotels, bedsheets had to be snow white and the flowers in the vases were measured for length.

When I met him, Oberoi was 87 years old and I wondered if reality would match the hype.

It did. Biki Oberoi's office insisted I meet him at his farmhouse because of his age. Since a cab would be lost finding the address, they picked me up from a mutually convenient place. A chauffeured limo with a strapping driver, formerly with the President's Bodyguards, took me in stately splendour to the sprawling farmhouse where peacocks roamed the lawns and a white gloved butler served tea.

Oberoi met me, a little frail but erect, nattily dressed in a jacket and cravat, pocket square perfectly in place. Small talk done, he asked me if I minded, and lit a cigar. Legend and reality coalesced seamlessly as we spoke about luxury hoteliering in the age of Airbnb.

Popular posts from this blog

Europe leisure travel tips for Indians

Eating with your hands - or not

Middle class apathy