Social Interactions
Rain, late this evening, reminded me of one of my favourite pastimes, walking in the rain.
One rainy evening, I gestured a courteous salaam to Fahim bhai as I crossed his mutton shop at Shivaji Market. I bought some fish instead. Later, however, when I went for a chat with him, he immediately started looking for the portion of tenderloin that he saved for me since Bak-r-Eid as a qurbani ka gosht ka hissa. We talked for a while about this and that and of course, mutton.
The first and lasting impression that Fahim bhai made on me while chopping chunks of mutton nalli was when he said, “...yeh Poona hain babu, yahan bach ke rehna, sab Poona mein choona lagatein hain.” Over several such socialising sessions on the pretext of buying mutton, Fahim bhai became a good friend. He talked to me about the successes and failures of his business. He talked about his home in Mathura. He also told me about his contacts in Bangalore as he exported raw material to factories that manufacture badminton racket strings, pacemaker outlets and surgical thread. He showed me the raw material, goat intestines fermented in salt, to kill my curiosity.
He was really sorry for the missing tenderloin portion even after several visits and assurances that it was okay. He treated me to several Suleimani chais at Nayab Hotel (now, Nayab Hotel is famous for its Achari Gosht). Over tea, he used to talk about himself and Kondhwa, the area where he lived. He called it a mini-Pakistan. He abhorred alcohol, and had a weakness for girls. There was a boyish joy when he told me this. He told me about the changing trend of his business, how mutton shops around housing complexes were making his life somewhat easier. He no longer opens shop at 4:00 AM in the morning and no longer tends to a huge queue of customers. He was glad that I was among the shaukeen enough to travel a lot and buy mutton from him, in almost a tone of gratitude.
Usually after taking leave of Fahim bhai, I would buy country eggs from Akbar chacha, the old man. He always said that it felt good to see me after a long time. He sells only country eggs outside Shivaji Market, squatting on the crowded street undisturbed by the din of the vegetable sellers.
When I was leaving Poona, I wondered if I would meet either Fahim bhai or Akbar chacha again. Although I met Fahim bhai during my visit and had tea with him, Akbar chacha wasn’t around. His daughter who sells fried liver and boiled eggs next to him had the tray of country eggs next to her.
One rainy evening, I gestured a courteous salaam to Fahim bhai as I crossed his mutton shop at Shivaji Market. I bought some fish instead. Later, however, when I went for a chat with him, he immediately started looking for the portion of tenderloin that he saved for me since Bak-r-Eid as a qurbani ka gosht ka hissa. We talked for a while about this and that and of course, mutton.
The first and lasting impression that Fahim bhai made on me while chopping chunks of mutton nalli was when he said, “...yeh Poona hain babu, yahan bach ke rehna, sab Poona mein choona lagatein hain.” Over several such socialising sessions on the pretext of buying mutton, Fahim bhai became a good friend. He talked to me about the successes and failures of his business. He talked about his home in Mathura. He also told me about his contacts in Bangalore as he exported raw material to factories that manufacture badminton racket strings, pacemaker outlets and surgical thread. He showed me the raw material, goat intestines fermented in salt, to kill my curiosity.
He was really sorry for the missing tenderloin portion even after several visits and assurances that it was okay. He treated me to several Suleimani chais at Nayab Hotel (now, Nayab Hotel is famous for its Achari Gosht). Over tea, he used to talk about himself and Kondhwa, the area where he lived. He called it a mini-Pakistan. He abhorred alcohol, and had a weakness for girls. There was a boyish joy when he told me this. He told me about the changing trend of his business, how mutton shops around housing complexes were making his life somewhat easier. He no longer opens shop at 4:00 AM in the morning and no longer tends to a huge queue of customers. He was glad that I was among the shaukeen enough to travel a lot and buy mutton from him, in almost a tone of gratitude.
Usually after taking leave of Fahim bhai, I would buy country eggs from Akbar chacha, the old man. He always said that it felt good to see me after a long time. He sells only country eggs outside Shivaji Market, squatting on the crowded street undisturbed by the din of the vegetable sellers.
When I was leaving Poona, I wondered if I would meet either Fahim bhai or Akbar chacha again. Although I met Fahim bhai during my visit and had tea with him, Akbar chacha wasn’t around. His daughter who sells fried liver and boiled eggs next to him had the tray of country eggs next to her.