Society

Who Moved My Shrikhand?

Competition from fast food chains is killing Mumbai’s iconic eateries

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Who Moved My Shrikhand?
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A little after 9.30 pm, when Prakash Wagle quietly slips behind the cash counter, two old men enter his eatery and walk up to his desk. “We read about you in the papers. Is it true?” Wagle, the owner, simply nods, without even looking at his two patrons. Over the past few weeks, staff members confirm, Wagle has made it clear to everyone entering Dattatreya that any conversation about the restaurant’s future will not be entertained. “It will be very sad,” say the two customers, and wander off to find themselves a corner table. Wagle continues to stare at the bill book on his desk. The eatery established in 1953 will be shutting shop by the end of this month, days after it celebrates its 60th anniversary on May 4.

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Vishwa Mahal is dead

For Mumbaikars who dig authentic Maharashtrian food, Dattatreya’s closure will mark the end of a way of life. Ask anyone bustling around the modest wooden tables of the eatery, seating six on each. The older residents around Shivaji Park in Dadar say the area has lost two of its most iconic symbols: Balasaheb Thackeray late last year and Dattatreya now, which incidentally was a favourite of the Shiv Sena supremo. In fact, Dattatreya’s fame shot up after it became known that Thackeray loved their batata vada and kotambir vadi. No wonder then that eight years ago when Wagle had to shut shop for eight weeks after trouble with a local politician, Thackeray intervened personally to get his old haunt going again. in fact, until recently, one could see pictures of Wagle with the former Shiv Sena chief on the walls of the restaurant and old staff members say he shared a long and old relationship with Thackeray.

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On a week day, tables start filling up around 8.45 pm for dinner. Children escorted by grandparents, teenagers with friends, individual office-goers clutching laptops on their way home, working mothers looking for a quick takeaway for dinner at home and families out for an evening. Fifteen minutes here or there, and finding a table beco­mes a struggle. However much the rush, service remains prompt and warm. Ever-alert waiters in uniform keep an eye out for anyone who might need att­ention. An extra helping of chutney or dahi? Before you know it, it’s there.

Hard times have befallen not just Dattatreya. Across Mumbai, local cuisine restaurants are fighting to keep the pot hot in the face of snazzy fast food chains with their war-like operations. The venerable Mahabhoj in Matunga is slated to turn into the fast food joint Cafe Greens and Beans. The shutters at the old eatery are already down and renovation work for the new one is on. The south Indian family restaurant has been leased out and will soon be serving international cuisine. Old-timers can only lament its demise. “I would catch at least two meals a week,” says Aadi Nair, a regular. “The food was delicious and affordable. This falls on my way to office and now when I walk past this building it brings back to mind the taste of the rice plate here. I am going to miss it forever.” But Mahabhoj’s owner Sachidanand Shetty says the restaurant was running into losses. “I couldn’t go on. I served `50 a thali for long, struggled to keep it going and realised that it bled me. Everything counts. Gas prices are higher. Labour and prices of food items have shot up. It’s difficult to run the place like this.”

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Long live McDonald's

Vishwa Mahal, another restaurant serving simple vegetarian fare in Mulund, is headed towards a certain demise. Says Manohar Shetty, its owner, “People came up to me and said they would miss the food at Vishwa Mahal. But the truth was the business had become a headache for me. I tried my best to keep up our ancestral business but the returns were poor.” In desperation, Shetty even introduced Punjabi and Chinese dishes to keep the fires burning. But when even that didn’t spice up things for Shetty, he decided to take the dreaded step and leased out his eatery to McDonald’s in June last year. 

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Even at Dattatreya, the tables might look like they are all taken, but it’s nothing like the old times. That was when the bustling eatery would be serving 250 thaalis at one go come lunchtime. Today, it struggles to sell 50 meals a day. You can’t exactly blame Prakash Wagle then for leasing out his space, unappetisingly enough, to a bank. It just makes better business sense. So old Dattatreya soon will be an hdfc branch.

In Dadar, many such finger-licking home-style Maharashtrian food eateries are finding it difficult to keep pace with fast food and Chinese joints that have mushroomed in its lanes. Dattatreya too tried to join them since it couldn’t beat them. Waiters in the restaurant, mostly hailing from small Maharashtra towns like Ratnagiri and Kolhapur, recall serving spring rolls and noodles. But Dattatreya was too much of a homebody to become something it was not. Even an air-conditioned avatar in another part of the city failed to lift the already waning demand. An old wooden clock in a corner of the restaurant is marking time. The sole idol of the Dattatreya deity in the front of the restaurant silently watches the guests having their last few meals here, asking no questions. 

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