No more Iranis

My wife and I often go out early mornings on Sunday to this small “Irani” restaurant at Shivaji Park called “Cadel Corner”. Its been there ever since I remember and maybe from much before I was born.
For those who do not know, it is hard to describe exactly what an Irani restaurant is. It was obviously an eating house but with a distinct culture of its own. Its clientele is a mixed bag of office workers, shopkeepers, students, itinerant salesmen, the unemployed, the dead-beats, the great unwashed and may young college going couples.

Yet it is not really downbeat and to go to an Irani restaurant is not considered slumming. The dicor is usually simplicity itself. Armless, bentwood chairs, and tables sometimes with a cheap marble top. There is usually no tablecloth, nor any napkins. You wipe your hands as best as you could or use a stained washbasin near the kitchen. There was no printed menu. The waiter, if one could describe him as such, rattles off what was available as if he was reciting a mantra and it all comes out as one word, 'keemabahajiacutlasskorma'. (Kheema, Bhajia, Cutlets and Korma)
You need to think hard and pay attention to decipher it. All business transacted is oral. Your order is taken and it is bellowed to the kitchen and thus the entire restaurant knew that one has asked for 'aek adha keema, aek paon roti'. Or it could simply be 'aek adhi cha, aek slice sadha (no butter)'. When it came time to pay, the amount owing too was bellowed out and each customer is usually identified, viz. 'Khaki pant wallah, lal kamiz wallah, topi wallah sabib, ainak wallah.'

The cashier is the Irani himself seated on a high chair behind a counter (gulla) near the exit like a sinister godfather or a king cobra guarding a treasure. Nothing that happens in the restaurant escapes him. He was constantly on the lookout for those who might sneak out without paying or members of his own staff who may try and short change him.
His credit policy is “No credit”.

We used to frequent this small Irani restaurant atleast once a fortnight for “breakfast”.
The breakfast used to be egg omelets with pav “(Indian puffy uncut bread) and tea followed with “bun-muska” (a sweet bun with butter) and more chai (tea).

Last Sunday, when I went there, I saw that the shop had closed down and a sign board said “Yes Bank – Opening soon”.
I felt as if a part of my daily (or fortnightly) life had suddenly been taken away from me.
Over the past few years, I have seen a numerous Irani Restaurants giving way to Banks, Consumer Showrooms, offices etc.
I guess its more lucrative for the owners to get a montly rental from these new shops rather than try to make living on small bills (the maximum my wife and I could potentially spend in the restaurant would be Rs 100).

I often wonder, if after many years, when there are no authentic Irani restaurants around, would one be able to get a premium to start one ? Would you pay Rs 1000 to go and have an omelet-pav for “old-times-sake ?