Bombay Pav Bhaji Center

The sound of the flat iron tawa is what you hear first when you walk toward our spot on Anand Mahal Road. I’ve been mashing vegetables on that thing for so many years that my wrist knows the rhythm by heart. It’s a small space here at 5/A, so things can get a bit tight when the dinner rush starts around seven. We don’t have much room for a lot of tables, so people often stand around or eat in their cars. Adajan is a busy area and there are plenty of places to eat, but folks seem to find their way back to us. The smell of the butter melting on the hot pav is something you never really get tired of, even after working here all day. My shirt usually smells like spices by the time I go home to my family. We don’t try to do anything too complicated. It’s just pav bhaji, done the way we learned a long time ago. Sometimes we run out of bread earlier than expected if the crowd is bigger than usual, and then I have to send someone down the street to get more. It's those little things that keep us on our toes. The lights from the other shops on the road stay bright until late, and we usually close up once the last bit of bhaji is scraped off the pan. It’s hard work, but it’s what we know. We aren't trying to be anything fancy.