Martin Motel
Ashwin Patel: The Man Who Gave Everything, and Built Even More
Ashwin Patel was only seven years old when he left India for East Africa. His father, already working there, wanted better opportunities for his son—something bigger than what their hometown could offer. Ashwin went to school in Africa, but at the time, higher education wasn’t readily accessible. If you wanted to go to college, you had two options: India or London. His father, pragmatic and ambitious, pushed for India. Ashwin earned his B.S. degree there, with dreams of flying—literally.
He wanted to be a pilot, to soar above the clouds. He applied to the Royal Air Force in London, but a heart murmur kept him grounded. It was a crushing blow, but Ashwin pivoted. He was accepted into Imperial College London, one of the most prestigious universities in the world, and completed his M.S. in petroleum engineering.
His career took off in a different way. For over a decade, Ashwin traveled to 49 countries, working as a petroleum engineer in the oil industry. He lived out of a suitcase, navigating oil fields and international borders. He was successful—but also tired. Eventually, he settled in London as part of the company’s headquarters.
Then came Nigeria. His father was working there, and Ashwin followed, returning to the continent that had raised him. From Nigeria, he was transferred again—this time to Houston, Texas, in 1978, as an international trainer for petroleum engineering exploration.
That was the year everything changed.
Ashwin reconnected with an old friend from East Africa who now owned a motel in South Carolina. The friend saw Ashwin’s exhaustion and offered a new path:
"What I eat, you eat. You won't get paid—but I’ll teach you everything. Motel life, from the inside."
No fanfare, no fancy introductions. Ashwin learned the business by plunging toilets at 2 a.m. and fixing electrical problems with whatever tools he could find. He saw how people robbed from him—bartenders refilling mini bottles at home, restaurant cooks running a black market from the back door, and maids getting paid under the table with money managers skimmed off nightly earnings.
But the real heartbreak hit earlier.
Just as he was about to buy his first motel, the bank in London where Ashwin had all his savings went bankrupt. Overnight, he lost everything. Every dollar he had worked for over a decade—gone. He called a family friend, a man named Chaganbhai Gupta, from Lagos, Nigeria. Ashwin cried on the phone. Not from weakness—but from the weight of a dream falling apart.
Chaganbhai didn’t hesitate. He wired Ashwin $150,000, no interest.
“How much is the motel?” he asked Ashwin’s friend. “I’ll take care of it. Just go build your life.”
Ashwin only needed $125,000. He returned the extra $25,000 immediately and, within 18 months, paid back the rest in full. When he offered to pay interest, Chaganbhai swore at him—affectionately.
“You’re like my son,” he said.
This man—one of the earliest Indian hoteliers in Texas—had helped dozens of families immigrate to America, gifting many $10,000 to make the leap. He never asked for repayment. Just impact. He ran a shoe factory in Lagos and touched lives like ripples in water. Ashwin was one of them.
Back in Mullins, South Carolina—tobacco capital of the world—Ashwin’s motel thrived during the harvest season. Monday through Thursday, it was packed with buyers and farmers. On weekends, locals poured into the bar and restaurant. Business was booming—but not without its lessons.
He lost money before he made it. Employees took advantage. He ran a 50-room motel with a restaurant and a bar—three businesses, one man. But he worked. Hard. Slept a few hours a night. Made beds himself to avoid calling maids. Cut costs where he could, poured everything into learning. He built 4–5 motels across small towns in the Carolinas, ran each for 2–3 years, and then sold. None of his four children wanted to take over, but they grew up in those motels—helping maids, taking out trash, managing rooms during college breaks.
His wife, whom he met at college in London, became a public high school biology teacher in South Carolina. She was named Teacher of the Year for the entire state. She managed a full-time teaching career, supported Ashwin through the long, unpredictable hours of running motels, and raised a family that would one day go on to achieve more than either of them ever imagined.
Ashwin didn’t just build motels—he built community. Shortly after settling in South Carolina, he joined the Lions Club, a global service organization dedicated to helping those in need. By 1993, he became the head of the South Carolina Lions Club, overseeing operations across the state. He was later appointed a State Constable—an honor given by the Governor to individuals who support law enforcement during emergencies. He served for 15 years, trained in law enforcement procedures, and often helped during traffic stops and local raids.
Despite the losses, betrayals, and long nights, Ashwin calls his journey a blessing.
“When I lost everything, I thought it was over. But life—life always finds a way to surprise you.”
Now, in his 80s, he reflects with a quiet pride. Not just in the motels, or the money—but in the lessons. The second chances. The kind people like Chaganbhai. The resilience he built plunging toilets and pouring drinks. The family he raised. The country he built his future in, brick by brick.
Ashwin Patel’s story isn’t about easy success. It’s about hard nights, lost money, and starting over again and again. It’s about sweat, heartbreak, and the quiet strength of a wife who never gave up. This is the real American Dream—built on grit, failure, and relentless hope. His journey shows us that success isn’t about never falling, but always getting back up.
