The Open Door of Destiny

A Kashmiri Pandit parable of fortune and faith

In the early 1990s, when the Kashmiri Pandits were driven out of their homeland, the Koul family from Habba Kadal landed in Jammu with nothing but a few clothes, some ration, and a heart full of fond memories.

Life in the migrant camp at Muthi, Jammu, was miserable: cramped tents, tin roofs that baked in the sun, and nights when rainwater seeped through the floor like tears from the heavens.

Among them was Shiban Koul, a tall, soft-spoken man who once ran a small handicraft shop near Dal Gate in Srinagar.

In exile, he tried his luck at everything: selling sweaters, driving a taxi, even hawking apples at the bus stand. But misfortune followed him like a shadow.

His struggles continued and, in this process, he would gamble with almost any trade wherever he thought he could earn more and more.

This approach to his struggles continued in his migrant life, but he never grew tired.

His luck never made him a winner of fortunes, yet he did not stop. He would toss the coin again and again in the hope that someday it would finally be his day.

Years later, when his son Ravinder grew up, he too inherited not wealth, but his father’s razor-edged, apparently gambler’s spirit, and that desperate hope that maybe, just maybe, tomorrow would be better.

The Fall

One summer, while visiting Nepal with a few friends, Ravinder entered a casino for the first time.

It began harmlessly: a few chips, a few wins. But as the night deepened, luck turned its face away.

By midnight, he had lost everything – not just the little savings he carried, but also his confidence, his smile, his reason to hope.

Dejected, he staggered toward the restroom to wash his face and gather his wits.

There, he found a strange rule: the toilet door operated only if you inserted a one-rupee coin.

He checked his pockets. Empty.

Not even a coin left to open a door.

Standing helpless before that locked door, tears welled up in his eyes.

It was not about the rupee; it was about dignity, about the long line of misfortunes that began the day they left Kashmir.

At that moment, a gentle voice right behind him said,

Lagta hai, bhai, kismet ne darwaza band kar diya hai. Yeh lo, khol lo.”

(Seems like fate has shut the door on you, brother. Here – open it.)

The voice belonged to yet another Kashmiri Pandit, Mr. Mohan Razdan, a fellow Kashmiri originally from Nagam, Chadura, Budgam, who had migrated years ago and was now working in a hotel in Kathmandu.

Ravinder looked at him, stunned by the kindness. Mohan handed him a one-rupee coin.

“Please, let me take your name and address,” Ravinder insisted. “Someday, I’ll return this rupee. I will not forget this.”

Mohan smiled.

Bas dua dena. Kaun jaane, ek rupee se kisiki kismet badal jaaye.”

(Just bless me. Who knows whose fate might change with one rupee.)

The Twist of Fate

When Ravinder tried to slot the coin into the machine, he discovered the door was already open; someone before him had forgotten to shut it properly. He chuckled, slipped the coin back into his pocket, and went inside. When he came out, he saw the casino floor again – flashing lights and ringing bells, as if mocking him. Almost on impulse, he took that very same one-rupee coin and tossed it on the smallest bet allowed.

And that is how the miracle began.

That one rupee turned into fifty. Fifty into five hundred rupees. Five hundred into two thousand. By dawn, Ravinder had recovered all the money he had lost earlier.

Now he earned more and more, and by sunrise, he was worth seven and a half lakh rupees.

The Rebirth of a Dream

Back in Jammu, Ravinder used that money to start a tiny fast-food corner near the bus stand.

He named it “Daali Bata Restaurant” – a Kashmiri food point for lentil and rice, the humble meal that had kept them alive in the camps.

It was a hit. People loved the homely flavour, the clean service, and the warmth with which the Koul family treated every customer.

From one stall came another, and then another. Within ten years, this famous and very popular “Daali Bata Restaurant” became a chain of restaurants across India.

Soon, the family entered the hotel business – the Daali Bata Group of Hotels – known for their motto:

“Where Struggle Meets Grace.”

They opened this chain of hotel–restaurants, with properties in Jammu, Delhi, Pune, Bengaluru, and even Dubai.

The Full Circle

Decades later, when Ravinder Koul was an old man, the chairman of the Daali Bata Group, he addressed his board of directors in a glittering conference room overlooking the famous Dal Lake, where he had now returned after thirty-five years.

In a choked voice, he said, “Friends, people call me a visionary, a lucky man, a self-made businessman.

“But the truth is, this miracle happened because of one man, just one man.

“If I meet him today, I would weigh him in gold and jewels.”

One of the directors, Rahul Razdan, asked curiously,

“Sir, do you mean the man who gave you the one-rupee coin outside the toilet in Nepal?”

Ravinder smiled and shook his head gently.

“No, not him. I have his address. I sent him a lifetime membership of our hotels long ago.

“The man I am still looking for – is the one who left the toilet door open.”

Moral of the Story

Sometimes, destiny does not need grand gestures – just a small act of forgetfulness, a kindness unseen, a door left ajar.

Often, the open door you leave behind becomes the gateway to someone else’s fortune.