Lall Kwatra

When we try to sum up Lall Kwatra’s life, it’s hard to know where to begin—because his story didn’t begin with comfort or certainty. It began with survival, and it grew into something luminous.

Lall was a child of Partition. When India and Pakistan became two nations, he and his family were swept into the upheaval as refugees and endured what no family should ever have to endure. That history did not harden him. It deepened him. It shaped the quiet strength people felt when he entered a room, and the tenderness that surfaced whenever he sensed injustice or saw someone in trouble. He carried an unshakable gratitude for life—and a lifelong instinct to protect, provide, and build.

And build he did: a life, a home, a community, a legacy.

An immigrant from India who arrived during the early 1970s wave, Lall first came to Canada before continuing to the United States, where he pursued his Doctoral Studies at the University of South Carolina. A civil engineer by training and calling, he devoted 20+ years to the Port Authority of New York & New Jersey, helping shape the infrastructure that keeps this region moving—airports, bridges, and tunnels that millions travel through without ever knowing the careful minds and steady hands behind them. He took pride in work that lasted.

But Lall was never only one thing. After retirement, he began again—this time as an entrepreneur, creating “Curry King,” his pioneering curry sauce brand in the late 1990s, an offering that blended heritage, hustle, and the deep belief that food is one of the most beautiful ways people find one another.

His love of culture and community also took him to Carnegie Hall, where he produced several concerts for Ravi Shankar—another signature Lall chapter: quietly ambitious, impeccably executed, and rooted in the joy of bringing people together.

Yet even these achievements don’t fully explain who he was, because the heart of Lall’s life lived in the everyday ways he showed up for others.

Husband. Father. Grandfather. Brother. Uncle. Friend. Neighbor. Engineer. Entrepreneur. Cultural producer. The life of the party.

He was all of these—and somehow, even more than the list can hold.

Lall was dutiful in a way that redefined what responsibility looks like. He was old school—truly, they don’t make many men like him anymore. Tough. Strong. Often the strong and silent type. And yet beneath that exterior was a soft emotional core: a sensitivity that appeared the moment someone was hurting, the moment something felt unfair, the moment help was needed. Taking care of people wasn’t something he occasionally did; it was who he was. He didn’t make you feel like he was lifting you up. He didn’t announce it or talk about it. He simply did it—and then moved on to the next person in need.

He respected hard work and hustle, and he saw himself in the hard-working immigrants of Jersey City and Bergen County. He helped them in big ways and small, and he befriended them. He treated this new generation of fellow immigrants with dignity—thoughtfully and respectfully—through small but powerful gestures: helping with taxes, encouraging them to become landlords and property owners, nudging them toward stability and pride. And when the recent ICE raids began, he checked in—quietly, personally—making sure his buddies and their families were safe. That was Lall: always scanning for who might be scared, who might be at risk, who might need steadiness.

He was also whip-smart—curious, quick, and wonderfully opinionated in the best of ways. He seemed to know a little about almost every subject, and if he didn’t, he’d learn it. He loved his newspapers, and in doing so, he seeded a lifelong love of news and knowledge in those around him simply by example. He was a gentleman and a scholar—a true renaissance man—equally at home talking engineering, politics, and world history as he was talking about food, music, culture, and people.

And above all, Lall loved life.

He didn’t just live it—he tasted it. He soaked it up. He worked, laughed, drank, and ate his way through more than ninety years, and he truly enjoyed every part of it. He knew how to have a good time, and he knew how to make sure everyone around him was having one too.

His home in Wyckoff, New Jersey—the home he built and designed himself—became a living reflection of his spirit: a place of welcome. A place where friends felt like family, and strangers didn’t stay strangers for long. There was always a plate, always a drink, always a story. He loved working the grill—tandoori chicken, shrimp, and the dishes that tasted like celebration. He was also a legendary bartender, and an even more legendary host. He was the life of the party, but more importantly, he was the reason so many people felt they belonged at it.

Whether it was exotic trips around the world with his best friend Roger, or quick jaunts to his favorite local restaurants, Lall pulled the nectar out of life in ways few of us ever will. He had that rare gift of turning ordinary moments into celebrations—and making celebrations unforgettable.

Lall is survived by his beloved wife, Pam Kwatra; his son, Neal Kwatra; his daughter-in-law, Katie; and his cherished grandchildren, Anjali, Dev, and Priya. He was a father figure to many, and the patriarch of his family in more ways than one.

He leaves a deep and unmatchable legacy. And if he were here to offer one last instruction, it would not be to mourn only—though we will miss him fiercely. It would be to gather. To eat. To laugh. To tell stories. To take care of one another.

Because he knew—better than anyone—how lucky he was, and what a privilege this journey was.

And if we honor him the way he deserves, we will carry that forward: not just by remembering that he lived, but by choosing, again and again, to live the way he did—fully, warmly, and with our hearts, minds, and homes wide open.

To send flowers to the family or plant a tree in memory of Lall Kwatra, please visit our floral store.