Guess what comes to my mind when I think of Belgaum?
Not the clean,
well-paved roads, not the lush greenery, not the ecclesiastical quiet, and not
even the much-talked-about rain. What I miss more than anything else is the
heady smell of freshly baked bread. It might sound silly to some, but hey don’t
we all live to eat!
I guess I have turned into something of a bread snob, but
I’d say that’s what Belgaum does to you. You’d be in for a hard time, if you
went looking for Belgaum-quality bread here in Pune. There are very few places
that stock freshly baked bread. Most places you’d get bread baked
God-knows-when, wrapped in plastic, and crumbling in your hands. It’s enough to
put one off bread! Didn’t Julia Child say- How can a nation be
great if its bread tastes like Kleenex? True indeed.
Pune has got to do something about its bread! Really!
As kids we used to take morning walks only to walk past Swamy’s
and gorge on fresh quiches and pastries. Evenings we often cycled to Akbar’s
, on Mom's errands, to buy our daily bread. White
or brown, both were equally delicious. There are many such bakeries in Belgaum.
Small establishments handed over from generation to generation, baking only so
much bread, so that it never goes stale. Back then, bread was always wrapped in
paper, and tied together with a thread. No expiry dates either, because they
never sold stale stuff anyway.
The bakers usually had a personal equation with their
customers. I remember this one time, when our oven had broken down, and it was
my birthday. My grandma couldn’t bake my birthday cake. But we couldn’t break
the family tradition and buy a birthday cake. Could we? So the bakery pitched
in. My granny gave them the unbaked cake and they baked it for us. That way I
got grandma’s home-made cake just like I used to every single year. Wasn’t that
sweet?
That’s the kind of thing that happens only in a small town
like Belgaum. Everybody knows you, just as you know everybody. Everybody helps
everybody else. Everybody from the baker to the mechanic is your dad’s
schoolmate or childhood buddy. So if your cycle gets a flat tire, there’s
always the friendly mechanic to help you out.
Years after we moved to Pune, I visited Belgaum and I made
it a point to buy some of Akbar’s delicious bread, buns and biscuits. Surprisingly,
after all these years, the baker recognized me. After the inevitable – “Oh you
were so little then!” , we had a pleasant
chat, and he showed me his newly revamped bakery. Amidst the fragrance of hot baking
bread, sweet memories of childhood wafted in.
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