Yeh ‘Vada’ Raha…

 Feeding Mumbai, since 1967…

I was born and raised in Madras (now Chennai, of course), a city of exceptionally hardworking and intelligent people who speak the same language: Tamil. Like millions of others, my quest for identity and work brought me to what was Bombay at the time, and is now Mumbai. This place was a melting pot of languages. A vast, fast-paced sea of humanity! I had never seen so many people in motion together… It was rhythmic.

Bombay was perpetually in motion, bursting with energy and expanding. It was growing not just in the number of people, but also in terms of landmass. The suburbs were bustling; the city’s limits were stretching and the pressure on its ecosystem was going through the roof (it still is!). This city was feeding more mouths than it had the wherewithal for.

But no one slept on a hungry stomach here. That’s what charmed me about this place when I arrived, aboard an express train at Dadar TT. Years later, when I started my company, Bharatbala Productions, I had people from every corner of the country working with me. They all went on to scale great heights in their respective fields. Everyone comes to this city with an appetite,  and this city has something for every appetite!

Over the next four decades, it became ingrained in my system that if you have the desire and the willingness to do something, Bombay will make sure you make a living and eat stomach-full. When I came to Bombay, I was probably 22 or 23 years old. That’s when I first made the acquaintance of vada pav,  a staple and a Bombay-favourite. It has been more than 30 years, but the flavour of that first vada pav still lingers in my mouth: the mixed chutney, the piping hot vada and the soft pav, and that deep-fried hari mirch. I had landed from a medu vada in Madras Central into a batata vada + pav at Dadar TT! It was a delight. My stomach was full for just about a rupee. Only a rupee! People who think a rupee has no value should know that Bombay could give you a lot in just that much. I would travel the length and breadth of Bombay in crowded local trains,  and my go-to food was vada pav. I could grab it at any time, in any pocket of the city, and it would seldom disappoint. My mother, sitting in Madras, gradually stopped worrying about my meals. I was always full when I called her.

Over decades, more stalls sprang up; the vada pav became expensive, hitting almost Rs 20–30 a piece, and the mouths eating it multiplied at the speed of light. And yet, what hasn’t changed in these years is the love people have for this snack. It’s undying, relentless, and in some cases, even bordering on religion. The vada pav continues to feed and satiate its consumers without discriminating between them. Whether you pay hundreds for it at a five-star hotel or a few tens by Chowpatty or Marine Drive, you’re assured contentment. It’s an understatement to say that vada pav runs in Bombay’s DNA. Suffice it to say that you don’t have to worry about your growling stomach, because you’ll never be too far from a vada pav.

Over the years, I’ve continued to grab vada pavs. I relish it just as much as I did on my first day in this city, wrapped in a crisp newspaper page. I am eternally grateful that this city found such a unique and economical quick-fix to ensure its people earn independently, and sleep on a full stomach. So, when we decided to do our hats off to Ashok Vaidya, the man who invented vada pav, it became a deeply personal film, one that felt like I was thanking him for giving thousands like me the taste and joy of biting into a steaming hot vada pav!

What has left me a tad shocked is that Mumbai gobbles up 2 million vada pavs a day! No wonder the city feels like a gas chamber during peak hours!