Discussion on Liz, Arun & a blast in Mumbai

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by saad ali on Mar 10, 2007 06:22 PM

Palaces. Champagne delivered in refrigerated trucks. Orchids flown in from the Netherlands, a specially rolled square for a "bride" team versus "groom" team cricket match ... and finally, yesterday, a wedding parade with white horses, camels, elephants and a banquet with 80 dishes prepared by 50 chefs.

What a fitting finale to the week-long Bollywood blockbuster marriage celebrations of Arun Nayar and Liz Hurley. And we haven't even mentioned the Learjet hired to take 24 guests from one continent to another, or the chartered plane to transport them on the last leg of the journey from Bombay to Jodhpur, which pushed the final bill comfortably past the ?1.5 million that Hello! magazine reportedly paid the couple for exclusive rights.

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%u2022 Hurley marries her Indian prince...on a horse

Of course, a few extra noughts here and there must be small change for Arun Nayar, a man with a bank balance the size of Bombay. Or so we have been led to believe.

For if Liz Hurley is for ever associated with that Versace dress (no, not her wedding gown but the one held together with safety pins which announced her arrival all those years ago) then Arun Nayar is a name that has become synonymous with money.

Those who have read about his jet-set lifestyle, wouldn't doubt it for a moment. Miss Hurley, 41, on the other hand, has been cast in the role of arm candy for the Indian businessman who speaks three languages and runs a supposedly booming software company in India.

The picture which emerges here in his native Bombay, however, is rather less flattering. Arun Nayar is not listed in the Forbes List of Indian millionaires, and it was rather summed up by a recent editorial in the Bombay Times asking readers if they thought Nayar, 43, should call himself Arun Hurley after the wedding. A majority thought he should.

"No one has heard of his business in India," says editor Mark Manuel. "He is not known as a businessman. His claim to fame is marrying a British celebrity."

Before the most extravagant nuptials in living memory got underway at Sudeley Castle in Gloucestershire last week, his own mother told a friend: "I can only say that Arun is not such a rich tycoon as the Press is making him out to be."

In Bombay, the rumours are that she paid for much of the celebrations. In fact, it seems, Arun has been "subsidised" by his wealthy parents, who have extensive interests in the textile industry, for most of his adult life.

So it is Miss Hurley, not her husband, who is the "self-made millionaire" in this marriage - worth an estimated ? 13million.

Indeed, by common consent, Arun Nayar's main "claim to fame" in Bombay, throughout his 20s and 30s, was womanising and partying.

"He was very promiscuous," said someone who moved in the same circles. In between the sex and champagne, and a failed marriage to an Italian model, Nayar set up a software design company with his younger brother Nikhil.

It is this venture which - outside India, at least - was thought to be the source of much of his wealth. The marketing literature for the firm, Direction Software Solutions, boasts an international clientele and a staff of hundreds.

Arun holds the grand-sounding title of chief executive officer and chairman of the board. Under his leadership, he boasts on the firm's website, DSS has "experienced tremendous growth and has increased its employee base to over 250 employees in less than six years".

He "actively involves himself", he says, with "providing the company with vision, effecting managerial direction and control, implementing company directives and policy..."

Yet sources in Bombay say he has visited the city a handful of times in the past six months. The website description conjures up an image of a buzzing office with state-of-the art equipment. But the headquarters of DSS turns out be a converted and modest first-floor flat in a building in Bombay owned by his father, and contains a handful of desks.

Apart from the young woman at "reception", it was deserted when the Mail paid a visit. "Staff have finished work for the day," she informed us when we called shortly after 5pm on Wednesday.

Financial information about DSS is not publicly available, but among the clients listed on the firm's website is Patchetts Equestrian Centre in Watford, which is news to staff at the centre itself.

Another client is said to be The Otto Group, a mail order distribution firm for textile and clothing companies. The head of the Indian bureau of The Otto Group is one Gunnar Nayar - Arun's mother.

German-born Mrs Nayar and her former husband Vinod have amassed a fortune teaming up buyers in the West with clothing and garment manufacturers in the East. Their own business recorded a recent turnover of $20 million (more than ?10million)

His parents split up shortly after Arun was born but are still understood to work together and have a string of lucrative properties in the city; one day it will all belong to their eldest son, but not quite yet. As Mrs Nayar is fond of reminding everyone: "I hold the power in the [textile] company."

Arun's position in the family hierarchy can be gleaned from a visit to an art deco block of flats on Bombay's seafront. The five-storey building is owned by the Nayar family and three generations of the dynasty, including Arun's grandmother, still live here.

The most sumptuous apartment - a 10,000 sq ft penthouse occupying the entire fifth floor - belongs to Arun's father, Vinod.

Arun's more modest abode is on the third floor. It is here he plans to stay with Miss Hurley when they are in town; one suspects, however, Liz may have something to say.

First, despite being among the most prestigious addresses in Bombay, the building is in a sorry state. The plaster is peeling, outside walls are crumbling and cracked and some of the flats leak.

In recent years the Nayars have failed to carry out repairs. "There are problems, but I don't want to say anything," says one of the few residents whose surname is not Nayar. The building could fetch around ?2.5 million if it was ever sold. Nevertheless, some might think, the contrast between Arun's lavish wedding celebrations and the lack of money spent on the building, for whatever reason, says rather a lot about the Nayar family.

Another reason Miss Hurley may not wish to grace the apartment with her presence, apart from scuffing her heels on the potholed paving stones, is Valentina Pedroni - the first Mrs Arun Nayar.

Arun and Valentina were married in a lavish ceremony in Italy followed by an equally lavish one in Bombay more than ten years ago; they also lived in the third-floor apartment now being prepared for Miss Hurley.

As you might expect, there is no love lost between the two women. "I have absolutely nothing to say," Valentina declared when contacted a few days ago. "I am far too busy working to be bothered about Arun and Liz's silly wedding."

One claim - denied by Miss Hurley - is that Valentina was the person who introduced her to Arun in 2003 and she ran off with him.

In a recent interview with an Italian magazine, Valentina was more forthcoming: "I open the papers now and when I see him with her I don't get upset any more," she said. "But the first time I was so offended. We had only been apart for ten days and they were all over the newspapers. We had only separated to see if we could resolve our differences. Instead it all happened without any respect or delicacy.

"Those two, Arun and Liz, were in photos laughing, dancing, shopping. But he wasn't a trophy to be put on display, he was my husband."

Was his infidelity the only reason for the break-up of his first marriage? Sources in Bombay say there were also other pressures, and one in particular: money. Valentina's divorce settlement hardly suggests a marriage awash with wealth.

Friends say she received just over ?600,000, a relative pittance for a "multi-millionaire".

Stories circulating in Bombay suggest money has also been an issue between the newlyweds, typified by an embarrassing incident on a British Airways flight to Barbados when Miss Hurley suddenly realised that the only person allowed into First Class with her was her young son Damian (by American millionaire Steve Bing).

Her boyfriend, it is claimed, was in possession of a Club Class ticket acquired using frequent flyer points.

Miss Hurley reportedly informed airline staff that there must be some mistake ("Don't you know he's a millionaire?") Shortly, afterwards he was upgraded.

Can it be true, the man whose wedding celebrations spanned two continents, travelling on Airmiles?

Yesterday, the wedding celebrations culminated in a mehndi marriage ceremony inside historic Mehrangarh Fort in Jodhpur when Miss Hurley, wearing a red sari and emeralds and rubies given to her by her mother-in-law, requested the name Arun be inscribed on her ring finger in henna ink, and he had Liz inscribed on his palm.

The newlyweds were taken to the fort in a custom-built palkhi (a carriage supported by four bearers) and showered with petals.

"We should not forget that Liz did not inherit wealth, but made it all by herself, every penny, and is therefore entitled, I think, to respect," says Sudeley Castle wedding guest Rosemary Trollope, mother of bestselling novelist Joanna, and a friend of the bride's mother.

The same, it seems, cannot be said of her husband.

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