{Kalbadevi, Est. 1932}

For my grandfather and then my father, this was his home, this was his business, this was his everything…we will go too, one day. There’s nothing more to it than that.

PHEROZE JAMASPI, May 2008

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I’m Pheroze Beheram Irani - actually Jamaspi is the real family name. My grandfather Merwan started this place, and my father Beheram and his brothers came also from Yazd, Iran, and they made a life in India here at Sunlight.

My father had come illegally from Iran, in those days, I don’t know, you could do it I mean even now there are those ships, you know, with unregistered migrants. So, yaar, they had trouble in Iran, life was not easy. My grandfather started the business in early 1930s, my father and others came in early ‘40s. They had agricultural land but there was not enough water then to cultivate land in Yazd.

For my grandfather and then my father, this place became home, this was his business, this was his everything. I mean, you know, during those times we didn’t have to pay, we didn’t have to buy, this is a rented place, Ok. See, before the war, the landlords found it very difficult to get people to take their places on rent. They used to literally beg people – to run the show then pay them afterwards, pay the rent afterwards you know. The situation was that bad. They signed-into an agreement based on trust, you know, with the landlord. No money was involved, the rent was paid after they earned it. Rents were very, very cheap in Bombay back then.

My father and my uncles they used to sleep here, make a cushion and sleep here, on the first floor, sleep, work, run the business. Then they had a small place nearby, they would come and my mother used to cook food for them. They would wash here and sleep here only, they used to come to eat there. We didn’t sell any real food, we just had a provision store and tea at that time - tea, biscuits, bun maska, hard bread – brun, omelettes, just snack foods, that’s all.

So, they used to heat up the milk, that used to take them half an hour or more, in those vessels they’d heat up the milk, those tins that were also measures – one for sugar and also one for tea. So they had this big vessel you know and they used to heat the water and add the sugar and the tea so it was measured out properly. So they’d heat that, strain it and the tea was ready, They used to have those samovars you know like in Iran. And for that they had to get up very early, ‘cause the milkman used to come with the milk very early, then they had to get ready with the bun butter, get them ready and sort them ready for the first morning customers when they came early. The buildings opposite they used to be places for people, people who used to work on ships, especially people from Goa, to stay.

They’d sleep there, the lights used to go out by 8.30, 9 o’clock in those dormitories so they used to come here, read their books, write letters, have tea, chat with people, and go. That was at night. Morning they used to come for breakfast. But now, that has stopped, those people have gone from there now, that is all over. Finished.

During my school vacations my father and uncles used to make me come here and do things like fill up the glass jars, the burnies, I didn’t like to come here but I was forced to come and help. I mean, in those days there was no TV. There was just playing cricket, flying kites, doing marbles, innocent days and games. I’d have to leave my friends and come here and arrange those biscuits and sweets and then the provisions which used to come from the companies I had to sort them into small, medium, large size and weigh everything because my uncles were busy with customers so I would write down the price on each packet and arrange them, display them ready to sell. That was my work here as a kid. In the vacation. Not during school time. I used to hate it [laughs]. Then, when it became my livelihood, I liked it [laughing]. I began liking it. Never ever in my dreams I thought that I would have to come here. I was doing stenography, and I applied for a job and got it, but my father said don’t go there, come and work here, so I had to, to feed the family.

That was the early 1970s, my uncles, some went to Iran and other places, and the next generation, my generation, took over. Maharashtra started giving beer licenses, so we took up the beer license, which meant we had to get rid of the provision stores, anyway that was not very profitable, the beer business started being very profitable, so we continued with the beer then we took up the permit room, maybe after 10 years or so we took up the permit room. We remodelled the place. And that is the only reason we are still here.

See now, after myself, my brother, my cousin, there is no one to take up the shop. No way our kids would. So, this is the last. During my father’s time they would all be here all the partners at the one time. There was no sense of timing, of taking time off from work and enjoying life away from work you know. They were always tired. Why wouldn’t you be? This place, it is a small business, we were not like the Maharajas (laughs), but just like the Maharaja’s we will go too, one day. There’s nothing more to it than that.

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From an interview with Pheroze Jamaspi, May 1, 2008

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IMAGES, top to bottom :

PHEROZE JAMASPI, Mumbai, 2020, photographer Bruce Carter, copyright Bruce Carter

JAMSHED JAMASPI, Sunlight Restaurant & Stores, Kalbadevi, ca. 1965, courtesy Pheroze Jamaspi

KALBADEVI, BOMBAY, ca. 1920, photographer unknown, courtesy Pheroze Jamaspi

JAMASPI BROTHERS, Bombay, ca. 1950, photographer unknown, courtesy Pheroze Jamaspi

JAMASPI BROTHERS, Kalbadevi, ca. 1955, photographer unknown, courtesy Pheroze Jamaspi

JAMASPI FAMILY members visiting Chak Chak, Iran, ca. 1968, photographer unknown, courtesy Pheroze Jamaspi

NOWRUZ, Persian New Year prayers, Sunlight Restaurant & Bar, Kalbadevi, March, 2017, photographer Bruce Carter, copyright Bruce Carter

PHEROZE JAMASPI, Bombay, ca. 1967, photographer unknown, courtesy Pheroze Jamaspi

SUNLIGHT RESTAURANT & BAR, Mumbai, 2019, photographer unknown