A brisk walk in that park next to you, drinking in the crisp morning air and then a stroll to an Irani cafe for the garam chai ki pyaali is a ritual for many Hyderabadis. And most of them would concur—Irani chai and Garden are inseparable entities. Located opposite the Secunderabad clock tower, Garden restaurant is a landmark generations have grown up with.
But, a spoiler alert! As the Hyderabad Metrorail snakes on, Garden—famous for its thick Irani chai, tie biscuits and, long addas—is going to be sacrificed.
Set up in the 1940s by Iranians Ghulam Reza, Ghulam Hussain and Haji Abbas, Garden has remained what it started out as: an aam aadmi’s teashop. A cup of tea costs `10 and there are bakes such as bun muska, coconut cream bun, egg and veg puffs, Hyderabadi chhota samosas, Japanese cakes, cream rolls and the like—all at modest, aam aadmi prices.
Besides, Garden has been patronised by the great—M.F. Husain would stroll in barefooted and order one cup after the other. “At a table, he would fish out a pencil and sketch at extraordinary speed. He’d indulge some regulars in gossip and even hand out signed copies of his sketches to customers,” says Garden owner Mohammed Kazim (57). Hussain’s presence at Garden would announce his arrival in Hyderabad, a signal the media invariably picked up.
Of course in those days of unfettered smoking, the number of cigarettes lit would far outnumber the cups of tea ordered; lively table-talk and debate contributed to the atmosphere. Significantly, even now, Garden is one place where class isn’t a barrier. Newspaper hawkers, real estate brokers, college students, and travellers jostle cheek-by-jowl. At a loss for a table, many customers just have their chai and biscuits standing outside, watching the traffic go by.
Irani tea is made by boiling the milk and condensing it to 30 per cent. Tea dust and water are boiled separately and then the two are added. This is the secret of the unforgettable taste of Garden chai. Around the ’50s, Garden started serving biriyani; today even its chicken and mutton biriyani are quite popular. But Kazim worries that the rising content of fertilisers and chemicals in food that could rob his menu of its inimitable taste.
The sense of loss at Garden’s demise is felt keenly. “The comfort of seeing Garden open at 5 am and closing at midnight is something many loyal customers will miss now,” says Anwar Ali, a student who frequented the cafe often.
During the Telangana agitation in 1969, Garden was a centrifugal spot for meetings, planning of rallies and political debate. It was repeated again from 2009 onwards when TRS leader and current CM K. Chandrasekhara Rao went on a fast. Garden was a common meeting point for many, especially Osmania University students.
Unlike other popular outlets like Paradise, Bahar, Bawarchi and Shadaab, Garden cafe—spread over 500 square yards—does not have any other outlet in the city. And now, it has to make way for the Metro line. “I earlier felt that the whole thing was unfair but have realised that it is for a greater good. Kuchh bhi abaad hona hai toh pehle barbaad hona,” says Kazim philosophically.
Happily, this is not a final goodbye, says Kazim, who is scouting for land around the same area for setting up Garden cafe afresh. “We will even open a fine dining restaurant while retaining the charm of the Irani cafe,” he says.
Two cups of tea and some Japanese cakes made of cream, chocolate and cashew arrive. The crunchy taste lingers on, triggering old memories. Hopefully, this garden will stay abaad elsewhere.
