Mumbai is running out of Irani 'chai'

Mumbai’s 460-odd Irani restaurants housed broke collegians, struggling writers and bored shippies among others during the last century. However, as the 21st century advances, there are less than 45 restaurants in the city. It’s safe to consider them a part of Mumbai’s heritage. But they are fast vanishing to make space for swankier restaurants or coffee chains.

“What Baristas are to you, Irani cafes were to us! Bachelors would eat here, while there were family rooms where you took your girlfriend and the waiter would stare at you,” reminisces Rafiq Baghdadi, veteran journalist as he conducts a walk around Irani restaurants in South Mumbai in association with Alliance Francaise. “It is a part of our heritage but it won’t be conserved,” he says with a wistful laugh as we walk towards Kyani & Co.

Among teenagers cutting class to share bun maska, office-goers getting a quick breakfast, Aflatoon Shokriye guards a table by the counter. Every day since 1968, Shyam Parikh drops in to have tea and maska khari with Shokriye at his restaurant. “I take a break to come here, because it is familiar, comfortable and the service I get here is unparalleled,” says Parikh. Shokriye has been a Mumbaikar since 1948, and runs a restaurant started by his father in 1904. Ask him what has changed and he smiles. “We haven’t changed anything, except prices,” he laughs. As the owner of the oldest Irani restaurant that still stands, the 82-year-old thinks the biggest problem that Irani establishments face is lack of interest from younger generation. “Our children are educated and not interested in carrying forward the business. After all, as engineers and doctors they know they will always make a lot more than they can from running this.”

“We are the owners and managers of our restaurants,” says Afshin Kohinoor who runs Britannia & Co. Kohinoor buys meat, sources special rice from Pakistan and gets his friends in Iran to send him ‘Barberries’ that go into their famous Berry Pulao. “My day starts at 6am and ends at 6pm. I can appoint a manager, but quality will not be there,” says Kohinoor who refrains from opening for dinner for the lack of time. “The financial returns aren’t worth twelve hours of work. People are interested in buying and renovating it, but the charm will go away.” His father, Boman interacts with customers and takes orders. “He loves the restaurant and doesn’t want to sell, but we will eventually sell out,” says Kohinoor. “I hope I find someone who wants to retain the goodwill and the recipes,” he adds.

Is there no solution? Shokriye points towards the rusting shutters of Bastani across the street. “That’s the answer. If our children don’t want it, we can’t force them,” he shrugs. “They are only interested in the property.”

The nostalgia may have its charm but Irani restaurants are less lucrative today. “Licenses are expensive, taxes have increased and hawkers continue to eat into our business. They buy protection from those who are supposed to remove them by bribing,” says Sheriar Khosravi who runs Military Cafe in a lane opposite the high court. “If we revamp, I will have to increase prices and I won’t get customers,” he says pointing to the neighbourhood which swarms with salaried individuals who drop in for an affordable meal.

With diminishing returns, Khosravi wants to sell off the business but holds back for his father. “My father has spent his whole life here and he is emotionally attached to the business,” he shrugs.
Britannia remains open for the same reason. “Four years ago we had a buyer, but my dad refused to sign,” says Afshin who minces no words in saying that after his father the cafe will be sold off. “My mother’s recipes are precious, our masalas are special but how long can we keep going on like this?” he asks.

While South Mumbai restaurants survive on emotion, nostalgia and goodwill, the Irani hotels in around the city have found a way to sustain by converting their shelves into general stores that stock tooth-pastes, soaps, cereal and other daily essentials. However, they too are fighting for their survival as running costs continue to rise.

“Running the business like this is just not viable,” says Khosravi, verbalising a looming fear that Mumbai will lose one of its most celebrated culture — the Irani chai.