Adhi Potoba

Kaathi Kabab Roll is a relatively new food to Pune and the first time I had discovered it was while interning for an industrial design company way back in 1991. We had just designed a sexy, stand-alone Dollops ice-cream parlour that stood outside the original Chinese room on East Street in Camp. It was a really boring job, having to supervise the labour with little or no contribution from yours truly. Just the way I like it. My then boss asked me if I was hungry and then suggested that we should get a Kathi Kabab roll. I didn’t know what it meant, but anything with the word kabab in it was cool with me. We got onto his cream coloured, fairly dented Bajaj Super with broken indicators and flew past Kayani Bakery to the corner of the block right opposite Victory talkies. A journey that took all of 30 seconds. As a rule, in Pune, walking is not only frowned upon, but ridiculed, too. At the corner of Central Bank stood a rusty, old, overloaded cart that was clearly a traffic violation in nu

I remember of a simpler time when there was no flyover on Deccan Gymkhana, no Stock Exchange above the P.M.T bus stop and Chitale Bandhu was just a milkman. That’s right, Chitale bandhu had just a humble little store selling milk and milk products nestled snugly between Hong Kong lane and an HP petrol pump. Living in Pune, Chitale Bandhu Mithaiwale is an integral part of life, especially on holidays and during festivals. The smiling face of the 'kobra" Chitale behind the counter is still fresh in my memory. It has been in the family for many generations, but recently they have branched out into franchises. It was inevitable with the vagabond younger generation of Chitales. (They are friends of mine so I can say that). I remember that the line for sweets would stretch from Chitale all the way up to Lucky restaurant the day before a festival. Young and old alike would stand in the sweltering heat with tins to take home a litre of Basundi. I also remember celebrating the mediocr

Long before Bhandarkar Road was mauled by malls, there was only one block with any commercial activity on the entire 1 km strip. It was the block opposite Sane Dairy and consisted of 6 completely unrelated stores. A food store named Ruchira. A tea house the name of which escapes me. A store that was split into two smaller businesses: M/s Joshi (the granary) and Snacks (the grocery). The Prince laundry. And then there was a bicycle repair shop and a car garage. In spite of this weird juxtaposition they all served the community in perfect harmony. Ruchira was the new kid on the block and had added a few extra items to his daily inventory to compete with the older, well known Snacks. The owner of Ruchira was a generously proportioned man with pitch black skin (and only partially visible at night), with an extremely cheery disposition. He would wave to you from behind the register whether you knew him or not. His offerings in terms of fresh ready-to-eat foods were very humble. A tray each

I just returned from a short trip to Pune. It had been a long three and a half years since my last visit. No matter where your life takes you, it’s always nice to come back home, even if it’s for a short visit. Of course, having to pass through Mumbai traffic makes you question your return immediately. This time, however, I was shocked and disappointed to come home. Pune has changed beyond recognition and is no longer the city where I grew up. Huge buildings have replaced the small bungalows. And a lot of the infrastructure is in a state of disrepair. The air is intolerable, the noise unbearable and the traffic situation — let’s just not go there. And what is up with the ringtones people? Isn’t there a phone that rings like one? I guess we can’t go back after half a decade and expect things to be the same. But it would be nice, wouldn’t it? In spite of all the change I tried to visit all my favourite spots — at least the ones that are still standing. But no matter how much it changes,