Pune is famous for the best-est eating joints, more famous than any of the eating places in Bombay. You can sample a variety of cuisine in all ranges – from the cheapest to the most dearest of menus. Sadly for me, there were fewer instances where I could go out and sample and savour the delicacies of this tasty place. But then whatever places I ate, I shall be talking about them – most of them would be unattractive mess places , but still most of them had a character to themselves.
Lunch on weekdays (as well over weekends) would always be with the Three Musketeers – Srinivas, Gopal and Kumar. No no no... these are not my office colleagues or lunch mates – these are there iconic figures who run the Vishnu mess in Bavdhan area of Pune. One cook, and three polymorphic guys who’d double up as the cleaner, the waiter as well as the manager. A wide variety on their menu, but a safe bet was to eat whatever they suggest and thought you could eat. A thali with dahi at 30Rs per plate was a whole wholesome meal and it was one which would only aid Post Prandial Lethargy.
There were days when we used to work hard, and be late for lunch .. and be disappointed with no curd as a part of the thali. One complaint, and then two watis of dahis were always preserved for us. Just in case we were to be late for lunch.
Food always used to fresh and great. There was this lesson I learnt from these guys out there – “Never say No to a customer” .. being the moody person I am, used to order for any weird dish from their menu. This would lead to a small hushed discussion between the cook and Gopal or Kumar, and in sometime I’d get an affirmative response for my request – then be it Hara Bhara Kebab Masala, Veg Bhuna ??? or Mushroom and Onion Soup , lol. And mind you, all these dishes were good enough. No complaints.
Sometime later, these guys got a full time manager cum cashier for themselves. Sadly, the manager spoke an unpuneish language called as Telegu and was slower than 8086 microprocessor (in this PIV ka zamana) when it came to preparing the bill and calculating the change for your bill. Sadly, Gopal or Kumar had to assist him in the task and they soon donned the hat of a translator, decoding our language to the ‘manager’ along with serving the thalis with as much gusto.
*To be updated
Monday, June 22, 2009
Sunday, June 21, 2009
Pune Traveler
Talking more about travelling in Pune, thankfully I was spared of a major part of it because the lucky dog I was, I was allowed to live in the office (which was housed in a 1BHK apartment in a residential society with t he much needed eateries just downstairs) itself by my internship company boss. So it went more beyond the oh-so-convenient “Work from Home” .. Mine was more like a “Home at Work”. A daily day at office was more on lines of an algorithm
1. Wake up
2. Wash and wear clothes :P
3. Office starts
4. Office ends (by around 7 PM everyday)
5. Home starts
6. Sleep
7. Goto Step 1
It did save a lot of travelling time and trauma associated with it, but I never experienced the numerous joys of travelling to work, jostling elbows in the fifty percent women reserved PMT buses, or shuddering my way in a six seater or getting fleeced by autorickshawala ....and am thankful to God for that. Amen !!!
Traveling in a PMT bus
Having friends interning in Pune as well is a good way to spend evenings .. but sadly all the action lies in the core of Pune and the place I lived in was more dead than a dodo. This led to some interesting journeys to the core of Pune – FC road, JM road, Deccan using various means of transport.
PMT buses and their signboards just make a mockery of common sense and play with the conceptual models of a regular BEST traveller from Mumbai. How in the world would I know where a “Ma Na Pa --> Ma Na Pa (Circle route)” bus is headed? Or where a “NDA --> Shivaji Nagar --> NDA” bus is headed. Plus to add to that the bus number is written in between the origin stop and the destination stop name (if they are , but different). So you have bus boards which say “Ko De Po --> 164 --> Hadapsar” (Ko De Po = Kothrud Depot) and mind you, this guideline is regularly flouted and you have buses with weirdest of boardplates possible.
There is a mystery about travelling in PMT buses .. Travellers and people who ask questions to fellow bystanders about the destination of a freshly arrived bus are usually invisible. No one bothers to give you a look or take heed of your inane question. You have to get into the bus to find out where it goes .. otherwise, you’d be left alone at the bus stop, asking the same question all throughout the day.
PMT bus conductors are a breed apart. They usually have nothing personal to do with the fellow passengers and are basically cool with people climbing into the bus from any entrance and getting off anywhere from anywhich door. Now couldn’t the BEST bus conductors learn some cool lessons from their PMT fellowmates? They usually are not bothered by the rush in the bus and cooly move around trampling the toes of the standees in the bus like Godzilla goes around crushing little dimwits in some ill-fated city.
Question : “Nal stop kadhi yenaar toh please sangnaar ka?”
Answer : “Ass Aynd Dee Tea (that’s SNDT pls) chya stop nantar”
As if, I knew where the SNDT stop is in the first place. Ask a stupid question and get a stupid answer. From that day, I asked fellow passenger who managed to communicate with me after some coaxing and some determination from my end.
Buses in Pune usually don’t take you completely to your destination. You have to get off at some Naka / Chowk / Bridge and pursue another excruciating wait for another metal container to come by, take you in and thankfully leave you at least a kilometre from the place where you left for originally.
I prefer to walk in Pune. Walking is good for your heart, mental health and emotional disposition.
1. Wake up
2. Wash and wear clothes :P
3. Office starts
4. Office ends (by around 7 PM everyday)
5. Home starts
6. Sleep
7. Goto Step 1
It did save a lot of travelling time and trauma associated with it, but I never experienced the numerous joys of travelling to work, jostling elbows in the fifty percent women reserved PMT buses, or shuddering my way in a six seater or getting fleeced by autorickshawala ....and am thankful to God for that. Amen !!!
Traveling in a PMT bus
Having friends interning in Pune as well is a good way to spend evenings .. but sadly all the action lies in the core of Pune and the place I lived in was more dead than a dodo. This led to some interesting journeys to the core of Pune – FC road, JM road, Deccan using various means of transport.
PMT buses and their signboards just make a mockery of common sense and play with the conceptual models of a regular BEST traveller from Mumbai. How in the world would I know where a “Ma Na Pa --> Ma Na Pa (Circle route)” bus is headed? Or where a “NDA --> Shivaji Nagar --> NDA” bus is headed. Plus to add to that the bus number is written in between the origin stop and the destination stop name (if they are , but different). So you have bus boards which say “Ko De Po --> 164 --> Hadapsar” (Ko De Po = Kothrud Depot) and mind you, this guideline is regularly flouted and you have buses with weirdest of boardplates possible.
There is a mystery about travelling in PMT buses .. Travellers and people who ask questions to fellow bystanders about the destination of a freshly arrived bus are usually invisible. No one bothers to give you a look or take heed of your inane question. You have to get into the bus to find out where it goes .. otherwise, you’d be left alone at the bus stop, asking the same question all throughout the day.
PMT bus conductors are a breed apart. They usually have nothing personal to do with the fellow passengers and are basically cool with people climbing into the bus from any entrance and getting off anywhere from anywhich door. Now couldn’t the BEST bus conductors learn some cool lessons from their PMT fellowmates? They usually are not bothered by the rush in the bus and cooly move around trampling the toes of the standees in the bus like Godzilla goes around crushing little dimwits in some ill-fated city.
Question : “Nal stop kadhi yenaar toh please sangnaar ka?”
Answer : “Ass Aynd Dee Tea (that’s SNDT pls) chya stop nantar”
As if, I knew where the SNDT stop is in the first place. Ask a stupid question and get a stupid answer. From that day, I asked fellow passenger who managed to communicate with me after some coaxing and some determination from my end.
Buses in Pune usually don’t take you completely to your destination. You have to get off at some Naka / Chowk / Bridge and pursue another excruciating wait for another metal container to come by, take you in and thankfully leave you at least a kilometre from the place where you left for originally.
I prefer to walk in Pune. Walking is good for your heart, mental health and emotional disposition.
Six Seater ???
There is a shudder going through my body, I sit meekly at one place .. am surrounded by seven or eight other people, some looking directly into my face. Looks ranging from surprise .. to contempt and to plain boredom. I look at my watch ... and wonder how much more time has to pass. There are people coming along from different directions. I am squeezed between the already seven people, but I still want that pan-chewing kaka to stop waiting in vain for the PMT bus and step foot into the “The Six Seater”, than am being a part off.
Yes, I am currently sitting in “The legendary Six Seater of Pune city” and am waiting for the driver to make a decision and arrive at the conclusion that the vehicle is now perfectly full and that he could proceed with the ride .. but till that time, the engine goes on, with the now familiar shudder through my bones, the loud rattling noise of the six seater chassis against other humans and spare parts residing inside it. Five minutes have passed, and by that time .. my heart has switched places with the right lung and the kidney is shoving it’s way up the oesophagus. Gawd !!! Let this goddamned contraption get going and save me from being a “jumbled up” human being.
These Six Seaters (or SS, as I would prefer calling them through the rest of the blog) are God’s gift to Pune – the perfect folly to rude and insolent rickshawalas. These majorly ply in the outskirts of the city, where our majestic rickshwalas refuse to drive on – or refuse to charge by the meter. But there is catch (I know it can’t be all that good and yet be good), these contraptions come with an unlimited seating capacity and probably at an average seat a dozen people at any given time. The question still haunts .. Why the f*** are they still called as “Six Seaters” ???. But still – no issues with it as they charge standard rates (ranging from 5 Rs to a maximum of 8 Rs for five to eight-nine kilometre ride), pretty cheap, eh ? But not at the surgery cost of rattled bones and organs ... am still looking out for my pancreas. :P
Yes, I am currently sitting in “The legendary Six Seater of Pune city” and am waiting for the driver to make a decision and arrive at the conclusion that the vehicle is now perfectly full and that he could proceed with the ride .. but till that time, the engine goes on, with the now familiar shudder through my bones, the loud rattling noise of the six seater chassis against other humans and spare parts residing inside it. Five minutes have passed, and by that time .. my heart has switched places with the right lung and the kidney is shoving it’s way up the oesophagus. Gawd !!! Let this goddamned contraption get going and save me from being a “jumbled up” human being.
These Six Seaters (or SS, as I would prefer calling them through the rest of the blog) are God’s gift to Pune – the perfect folly to rude and insolent rickshawalas. These majorly ply in the outskirts of the city, where our majestic rickshwalas refuse to drive on – or refuse to charge by the meter. But there is catch (I know it can’t be all that good and yet be good), these contraptions come with an unlimited seating capacity and probably at an average seat a dozen people at any given time. The question still haunts .. Why the f*** are they still called as “Six Seaters” ???. But still – no issues with it as they charge standard rates (ranging from 5 Rs to a maximum of 8 Rs for five to eight-nine kilometre ride), pretty cheap, eh ? But not at the surgery cost of rattled bones and organs ... am still looking out for my pancreas. :P
Day One in Pune - "The Puneri Rickhawala"
It all started off with the phone call that confirmed my internship in Pune. Ahead of that is what you would read in this blog.
Had heard a lot about Pune, the culture, the people, the mannerisms and obviously was excited to be in amidst all of it. To make lives simpler for the reader and not go on and on with my daily experiences, I shall categorize my experiences.
Lets start off with the quintessential rickshwalas from Pune.
The date: 18th May 2009, I ease my way into the of Pune. A friend volunteers to drive all the way from Kothrud and pick me up at University and drop me at Pashan at my relative’s place. Till that time, all places and locations and direction are as alien and difficult for me as for a Martian wanting to go to Kings Circle station, standing bewildered in the queue at ticket window number 12 at Andheri railway station on the Eastern side.
I politely decline the offer saying that I have a huge bag with me and that it’d be difficult for me to manage the bike sitting on the pillion. Forewarned about the moody and the princely rickshawalas of Pune (by the friend itself), I step foot on Pune soils. Confidently I approach a rickshwala and ask him to take me to Pashan, near NCL.
And ahead of it, it all happens in slow motion. I get in .. the rickshwala’s hand goes towards the meter, simultaneously asking me more details of the place I want to. This moment, I commit the worst mistake that one could do in the lands of this Asian Oxford. I ummm....errrr...gulp, say that I need to call and get more details. The hand goes down back to the rickshaw handle and a smug look evolves on our friendly rickshawala’s face and he says with a shrug “Chalees rupaye hoteel” (It’d cost my 40 rupees) and voila, am taken for a ride the moment I step into Pune. I dish out fourty bucks for a then later 5.65 minute drive from University to Pashan. I feel more cheated than a cow that’s been milked ... and you know what.
Moreover I must admit that the rickshwalas out here are more honest than the ones in Bombay. They do openly admit that they are charging that 15-20 Rs more than the regular fare. (which actually is a good 40 Rs more than the meter would calculate). Ahh, don’t I love honesty in a man. Am totally bowled over by the rickshwalas out here.
That man walks around (actually drives around) with the arrogance and pomp of riding a Rolls Royce Phantom in the dingy lanes of Kurla. That impudent look, that display of conceit all add to the already up stuck attitude of the rickshawalas in Pune. This species would reject a fare in the noon, just because it gets in between them and their afternoon siestas or even not be willing to drop a lady home late in the night, just because the lady’s destination is not the same as their destination for the night. Such chivalrous are there three-wheeler riding public servants of Pune.
Needless to say, after a few days of being cheated, and being made to feel like a loser, I prefer to board the infrequent buses of PMT (Pune Municipal Transport), walk all the way or step foot into another wonderful three (or is it five) wheeled wonder called as “The Six Seater” , but then that is another story.
Had heard a lot about Pune, the culture, the people, the mannerisms and obviously was excited to be in amidst all of it. To make lives simpler for the reader and not go on and on with my daily experiences, I shall categorize my experiences.
Lets start off with the quintessential rickshwalas from Pune.
The date: 18th May 2009, I ease my way into the of Pune. A friend volunteers to drive all the way from Kothrud and pick me up at University and drop me at Pashan at my relative’s place. Till that time, all places and locations and direction are as alien and difficult for me as for a Martian wanting to go to Kings Circle station, standing bewildered in the queue at ticket window number 12 at Andheri railway station on the Eastern side.
I politely decline the offer saying that I have a huge bag with me and that it’d be difficult for me to manage the bike sitting on the pillion. Forewarned about the moody and the princely rickshawalas of Pune (by the friend itself), I step foot on Pune soils. Confidently I approach a rickshwala and ask him to take me to Pashan, near NCL.
And ahead of it, it all happens in slow motion. I get in .. the rickshwala’s hand goes towards the meter, simultaneously asking me more details of the place I want to. This moment, I commit the worst mistake that one could do in the lands of this Asian Oxford. I ummm....errrr...gulp, say that I need to call and get more details. The hand goes down back to the rickshaw handle and a smug look evolves on our friendly rickshawala’s face and he says with a shrug “Chalees rupaye hoteel” (It’d cost my 40 rupees) and voila, am taken for a ride the moment I step into Pune. I dish out fourty bucks for a then later 5.65 minute drive from University to Pashan. I feel more cheated than a cow that’s been milked ... and you know what.
Moreover I must admit that the rickshwalas out here are more honest than the ones in Bombay. They do openly admit that they are charging that 15-20 Rs more than the regular fare. (which actually is a good 40 Rs more than the meter would calculate). Ahh, don’t I love honesty in a man. Am totally bowled over by the rickshwalas out here.
That man walks around (actually drives around) with the arrogance and pomp of riding a Rolls Royce Phantom in the dingy lanes of Kurla. That impudent look, that display of conceit all add to the already up stuck attitude of the rickshawalas in Pune. This species would reject a fare in the noon, just because it gets in between them and their afternoon siestas or even not be willing to drop a lady home late in the night, just because the lady’s destination is not the same as their destination for the night. Such chivalrous are there three-wheeler riding public servants of Pune.
Needless to say, after a few days of being cheated, and being made to feel like a loser, I prefer to board the infrequent buses of PMT (Pune Municipal Transport), walk all the way or step foot into another wonderful three (or is it five) wheeled wonder called as “The Six Seater” , but then that is another story.
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