pav wala (bread seller) to fish, mutton and bhangaar
wala (scrap collector) come to the doorstep to sell
their wares. There’s also the old Parsi uncle who lands
up every now and then to sell bhakras (hard cakes) and
other Parsi snacks.” Interestingly, doodh wala bhaiyas
(milkmen) and the Parsi-Times-distributing bhaiyas all
hail from Uttar Pradesh but speak fluent Gujarati.
It’s a place where everyone knows everyone. A child
playing in a garden can run up the stairs to a nearby
building and ask to use the bathroom, and neither party
would flinch. “The best part for me is being so close
to other Parsis,” says Patel. “I don’t have to teach my
kids how to be Parsi — they learn it through osmosis.”
At the heart of community socialisation is the Dadar
Parsee Colony Gymkhana, where people of all ages
unfailingly land up every evening. “For many, coming
to the Gymkhana is as much part of their daily routine
as brushing their teeth is, and, as an outsider, it’s just
amazing watching how deep these relationships go.” The
more time I spend with the people here, I recognise that
this is a place with porous membranes. It’s possible to
spend hours wandering in and out of doors, in and out
of social spaces, and in and out of doctrines of thought.
Something entirely evident at the newest hang-out
in DPC, Café 792; partners Jahan Nargolwala (whose
father owns Colaba staple Leopold Cafe and Bar
and Cafe Universal in Fort) and Zubin Zaveri have
converted an old home into a tony alfresco cafe. They
don’t have a licence to cook food, so they supply home-
made food made by 14 different locals. The home-cooks
are sent orders weeks in advance, and the daily menu
consistently changes. On some days, there’s fish cutlet
and sali chicken, on others there’s dhansak and diced
steak with pepper sauce. Their bestseller, though, is
the chocolate eclair. At evening time, the (three) tables
are churning with conversation. People pull up chairs
around each other and order tall glasses of iced tea.
Some are on their way back home from work and want
to pack a rus chawal to take home for dinner, others just
saunter in to use the toilet. “I know what it’s like to be
walking around on a hot day and really needing to pee,”
says Nargolwala good-naturedly. “My husband jokes