By 
There are some stories that feel less like business journeys and more like acts of quiet rebellion against destiny itself. They do not begin with strategy decks or investor slides; they begin with a feeling -irrational, inconvenient, almost dangerous. On a rain-washed evening in Bangalore, as glasses caught the light and conversations softened into anticipation, Rati Dhandhania sat across a man whose life had been shaped by exactly such a feeling. A man who walked away from certainty into obscurity, from Silicon Valley into the soil of Nashik, and in doing so, altered the taste of an entire nation.
The Day India Didn’t Know It Needed Wine
In the early 1990s, India did not drink wine. It is difficult to explain this to a generation that now casually orders a glass with dinner, but at that time, wine was neither culture nor conversation. Grapes were eaten, not transformed. Nearly all of India’s vineyards existed for the table, not the bottle. Into this void walked Rajeev Samant—not with a blueprint, but with a question that would eventually become a revolution.
He did not arrive in Nashik with a grand plan. In fact, as he openly admits, he had no plan at all. After leaving Oracle Corporation, he returned to India uncertain, almost drifting, until a visit to a modest piece of family land changed everything. The land was unremarkable to most – valued at a mere ₹30,000 an acre -but to him, it carried an inexplicable pull. Something about it felt alive with possibility.
In that moment, instinct defeated logic. And India’s wine story quietly began.
A Country Learns to Taste Itself
The birth of Sula Vineyards was not just the creation of a company; it was the introduction of an entirely new language. Wine, after all, is not simply consumed-it is understood, felt, and slowly absorbed into culture. Samant did not merely produce bottles; he cultivated experiences. He built spaces where people could walk through vineyards, where the unfamiliar could become intimate, where the first hesitant sip could turn into a lifelong affection.
Today, more than three and a half lakh visitors pass through Sula every year, an astonishing figure that speaks not just of tourism but of transformation. For many of them, it is not just a visit—it is a first encounter. A first understanding of wine. A first memory tied to it. The kind of memory that lingers far longer than the taste itself.
Wine as Emotion, Not Just Craft
As the evening conversation unfolded, the wines themselves began to tell their stories. Each pour carried within it a philosophy, a response to what India wanted, and perhaps more importantly, what India did not yet know it wanted. A tropical rosé emerged not as imitation but as adaptation-lighter, fresher, suited to a climate and a palate that leaned toward brightness rather than heaviness. A Chenin Blanc reserve revealed a deeper ambition, a deliberate move away from sweetness into complexity, texture, and quiet sophistication. A Grenache rosé spoke of Provence but in an Indian accent, proving that inspiration need not erase identity.
And then came Rasa, a wine that seemed less like a product and more like a declaration. It asserted, without hesitation, that India could produce red wines of character and depth, wines that did not seek validation from elsewhere but stood firmly in their own right.
What became clear was that these were not just wines. They were milestones in a nation’s evolving relationship with itself.
The Courage to Be Indian
What sets Samant apart is not merely his success but his refusal to hide behind borrowed identities. There was a time when Indian wines wore European names like borrowed suits, hoping to be taken seriously. He rejected that instinct entirely. Instead, he leaned into India-its geography, its language, its story.
He named wines after places like Dindori, not because they sounded exotic, but because they were real. He built experiences rooted in Indian soil, not foreign templates. He chose authenticity over aspiration, and in doing so, created something far more powerful than imitation could ever achieve. As he himself puts it, there was never any doubt: these were Indian wines, made from Indian grapes, and there was pride in that truth.
The Brutality Behind the Romance
Yet, beneath the romance of vineyards and sunsets lies a reality that is far less forgiving. Wine is a patient business in an impatient world. It demands years before it gives anything back. It tests resilience through unpredictable climates, regulatory complexities, and evolving consumer behavior. It is as much about discipline and financial acumen as it is about taste and craft.
Samant does not shy away from this truth. He speaks of cash flows, of working capital, of the necessity of understanding business as deeply as one understands wine. There is no illusion here, no poetic denial of the grind. The beauty of the product does not soften the hardness of the process.
And yet, he remains optimistic.
A Future Still Waiting to Be Poured
The world may be changing, with shifting attitudes toward alcohol and wellness reshaping consumption patterns, but India stands at a uniquely early stage in its wine journey. The market remains small, almost fragile, but within that fragility lies immense potential. Growth here is not about replacing something old; it is about creating something entirely new.
Perhaps that is why Samant speaks not of acceleration but of slowing down. He invokes the philosophy of the slow food movement, reminding us that wine is not meant to be rushed. It is meant to be savored, to be experienced, to be woven into the rhythm of life rather than forced into it. In that sense, wine becomes more than a drink. It becomes a pause. A quiet rebellion against the noise of modern living.
The Legacy of a Feeling
In the end, what remains is not just a company or a category, but a shift in consciousness. Rajeev Samant did not simply build India’s most iconic wine brand; he taught a country how to discover a new dimension of itself. He proved that industries are not always built on strategy. Sometimes, they are built on instinct, on curiosity, on the courage to follow a feeling that makes no sense at the time.
From five acres to thousands, from obscurity to global recognition, the journey of Sula is not just a business success story. It is a reminder that revolutions do not always arrive loudly. Sometimes, they arrive quietly, in a glass, waiting to be noticed.
And when they are, nothing ever tastes the same again.
Rati D. Mundrey is a Committee member of the Bangalore Wine Club. She is a wine enthusiast, qualified at WSET level 2. She can be reached at ratimundrey@gmail.com
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