The Paan-Beedi Shop

A minor but harrowing experience after landing in Delhi last year made me so grateful I belong to Mumbai. Despite the decision to travel light, my toothbrush was the one thing I forgot.

Thinking how I would not be able to sleep that night without brushing my teeth, I ventured out of the hotel (no, they didn’t keep toothbrushes), sprang into an autorickshaw (driver fleeced me, of course), and went to Connaught Circle. I am not familiar with Delhi at all.

It was evening, and most of the shops started shutting down (jeez, 6.30 in the evening is closing time???), so I walked around, looking for a paan-beedi shop. Not in sight. I went around in circles, in Connaught. ‘Indian-lady-wandering-alone-in-the-city’ got me capital stares (in Mumbai, I have walked alone from home to the Shiva temple, 10 mins away, at 4AM. Only dogs barked at me, and when I whistled at them, they stopped and wagged their tails). I didn’t care. All I wanted was to brush my teeth. At long last, I espied one. Horror of horrors! This paan-beediwalla had only that (well, he also had cigarettes).

Where can I buy a toothbrush, I asked the guy. From a chemist’s, he answered. That sort of blew me over. Did I now need a prescription for a toothbrush? And where would I find a doctor to give me one?

As he had no idea where I could find a chemist, I wandered down my lonely road, more determined than ever. I walked into a clothes store (actually open), hoping they might help me out. They gave me the same gyaan about chemists. They looked blank when I asked about bania-shops. Quite tired by this time, I pretended interest in their wares, and after about 15 minutes of looking at some ghastly salwar-khameez ‘suits’, I casually asked if they could send anyone to get me a toothbrush. Thinking they had a ‘bakra’, they were most helpful, and sent a gopher out. They did not ask me what brand, hard, medium or soft, what colour, straight or angled, etc., etc. I did not want to push my luck so I kept quiet about these intricate details. The guy came back with my toothbrush, mission accomplished, and I promised I would be back the next day to make my purchase of the ghastly ‘suits’.

That’s when I was so grateful I belong to Mumbai (told you I would get to that). I mean Delhi may be the capital and all that, it’s got stretches of beautiful road, and is a zero-garbage city - but compared to Mumbai, it is a hick place. Sorry Delhi-ites, this is war. Naana-naa naa naa-naa.

In Mumbai, chances are, if you close your eyes and chuck a stone in any direction, it will hit a mallu paan-beedi shop (OK, I exaggerate. Throw a vada-pau). Now when I say ‘mallu’, it means Malayalee. No disrespect or offence meant to anyone here, it’s not an insult, it’s just how we refer to different folks here in Mumbai, it being so cosmopolitan and all. Over the years, Mumbai has developed its own language (not to be confused with ‘Hinglish’). For example, Punjabis are ‘punjus’, Gujaratis are ‘gujjus’, Marwaris are ‘maadus’, Parsis are ‘bawas’, Sindhis are ‘vadi sai’, Catholics are ‘maakapaos’, Muslims are ‘mossies’, Bengalis are ‘bongs’, UP-ites are ‘bhayyas’, South Indians are also all clubbed together as ‘southies’, Sikhs are ‘serds’ (an English friend of mine calls them ‘turbanites’) and Maharashtrians are ‘ghaatis’ (that’s me). Despite this name-calling, and the occasional rioting (not necessarily connected), there is general bonhomie, and the bottom line is, we all forget communal differences, and are proud to be ‘Mumbaikars’.

The mallu paan-beedi stall is quite a phenomena, these guys have shown great enterprise and Mumbai cannot do without them. They have sprung up on the roadsides and there is no ‘pukka’ structure. Just a tiny counter with just about enough standing space behind for the mallu (wearing a shirt hanging over folded-up lungi), a wooden ‘cupboard’ behind. Here’s what you are most likely to find in a mallu paan-beedi shop (don’t ask how all these things fit):

Cigarettes (Indian and imported), may even have Havana cigars
Disposable lighters, re-fuelling service for ‘disposable’ lighters, matches
Biscuits
Chocolates and candy
Packaged and unpackaged snacks
Gum
Gutkha (though banned) and supari
Fresh bread and eggs
Soft drinks and club soda (kept cool in an ice-box)
Agarbattis
Soap
Condoms
Sanitary napkins
Stamps (including revenue stamps) and envelopes
Sachets of shampoo and conditioner
Talcum powder
Hair Oil
Crocin and other OTC medicines
Mosquito repellant
Toothpaste
And yes, toothbrushes - with a choice of brands, bristles, colour, angles, etc.

Don’t get confused. This is a paan-beedi shop (the signage says so)! For serious groceries, there are grocers. And for serious medical supplies, there are chemists.