The Dishoom King’s Cross story

ONE JANUARY MORNING in 1928, a young Irani – not long arrived in Bombay – was waiting to collect a parcel at Victoria Terminus. Unusually, the train was running late. The Irani waited, patiently; then, growing hot and bored, he decided to stretch his legs. He wandered amongst the station crowds and then down a side track, off the main terminus.

Quickly, he found himself in a vast, airy shed filled with the hubbub of a thousand industries crossing paths: freight trains pulling in with a squeal, wagons being loaded and unloaded, men and machines labouring with their cargo. Railway workers shouted to one another in a dozen languages: Hindi, Marathi, Gujarati, Bihari. Goods of every conceivable sort ebbed and flowed through the station, a veritable artery linking the Indian subcontinent to the Western world via the trading port of Bombay.

The Irani was of an astute business mind. He had come to Bombay with almost nothing, and he was always seeking an opportunity to strengthen his toehold there. He also understood how this city could be hard on her people. That day, standing there in the vastness of that old godown and watching the men at work, he felt a keen sense of opportunity. These men, weary from their toil, should surely be able to quench their thirst and sate their hunger.

The very next morning, he began selling his Irani chai and a few baked goods from an impromptu stall in an inconspicuous corner of the godown. The railwaymen came in their dozens to sample his offerings. The news spread, passed on from worker to worker, supervisor to babu, and the little stall flourished. The Irani introduced a few additional items here and there: a rickety table, some chairs, a shelf displaying plump fresh pau, a wooden bench to sit on. It wasn’t luxury by any means, but all who spent a moment there were glad of it.

Although at first wary of being ousted from his borrowed corner, he soon became bolder: the station guards were grateful for a ready source of chai, and would happily take their baksheesh in spicy keema. The Irani ‘café’ inched outwards appropriating its own space in the large transit shed, buoyed by the burgeoning number of loyal patrons. In almost unnoticeable little steps, it gradually started dominating the godown.

Decades later, the Irani’s hair has turned from jet black to grey, his jacket is cut from better cloth, but his smile is just as it was. His beloved India has changed dramatically. She has fought for her independence and has been torn asunder by partition. The gora sahibs are long gone, and a young nation is forging its identity. And from a small corner of the shed, the humble stall has grown into an established café – in truth, even something of an institution. The renown of the Irani and his hospitality has spread far; everyone – labourers, smartly-uniformed train supervisors, well-heeled sahibs – comes for a cup of cutting chai, a quick breakfast, a hearty meal. Railwaymen, angadias and passengers meet there and dawdle together, reading their newspapers, loudly exchanging jokes and political opinions, mopping their plates clean with the Irani’s hot pau. And at the end of a long hot day, a refreshing beer (discreetly passed from a hidden box of ice) is a most welcome reward.

Even after so many years, the Irani never fails to greet each one of his guests with a nod and a smile. Whether it is an omelet at daybreak, a big bowl of Nalli Nihari at lunch, an afternoon snack or a sly peg of liquor from a bottle before home-time, his welcome is as warm as the chai is hot, and every guest goes on his way feeling that he has found a small source of solace and joy in the old godown behind the great Victoria Terminus.

Read the café stories

Suggested Reading

See the journal

Ayesha Erkin shares one of her delectable date recipes

We’re turning page after page of Ayesha Erkin’s recipe book Date of the Day, featuring 30+ recipes for the modest date – timely for breaking fast and after. Our dear friend Ayesha has now kindly shared a recipe for you to make at home. Try it this Iftar or any time you need a salty-spiced sticky treat.

Celebrate Iftar with Dishoom

The holy month of Ramadan is upon us, when Muslims around the world fast daily from dawn till dusk. It is a time of private worship and spiritual discipline, but also of shared joy and abundant feasting. Families and communities come together at suhoor, the pre-dawn meal, and at iftar, the evening meal, to break their fasts with copious, delicious dishes. Join us on 7th April for our own Iftar celebration – for an evening of feasting and live music.

Caring hands at Ramadan

Ramadan

We often find it too easy to hurtle through the days, in an attempt to outpace the bustling city – be it London or Bombay – which always seems to be running away like a steam-engine train on a rickety track. Occasionally, it does us good to pause for thought, to disembark the carriage and sit on the platform awhile.

Dishoom's Cheese & Masala Sticks Recipe

The month of Ramadan may be a period of fasting but it’s equally synonymous with feasting. Iftar – the evening meal with which Muslims break their fast – is an occasion for eating favourite dishes and indulging in the naughtiness of moreish snacks after a day of abstaining, and these cheese-and-pastry twirls make the perfect snack.