Memories of Poona-3

 Exotic Professions in Poona

Poona has long been known for its teachers, scholars, sportsmen, and other accomplished professionals. Yet, beyond these well-known occupations, there existed a fascinating array of lesser-known trades — humble livelihoods that gave the city its unique character.

As a school-going boy, I was often captivated by these people who offered their services in public spaces. I remember the ‘Nhavis’— barbers who set up their mobile shops under the shade of a tree. There were no chairs or fancy tools, just a pair of scissors, a razor, a small mirror, and skilled hands at work. They charged a mere two or four annas depending on the quantum of work involved.

At the Poona railway station’s third-class ticket counter, an ‘Attarwala’ would appear with a tray of beautiful glass perfume bottles. For a few coins, he would dab fragrant attar on your wrists or neck; if you wished, he would even give you a quick head and neck massage.

Then there were the ‘Kaan Saaf Wallahs’— traditional ear cleaners, a profession that likely dated back generations. They offered their peculiar street-side service with great pride, though I imagine their numbers have dwindled over time with the advent of modern hygienic practices.

On my walks from Poona station to school, I would often pause to watch fortune tellers. Some used a caged parrot that would pick cards foretelling a client’s future; others preferred to read palms through a magnifying lens.

Inside trains, young vendors would move briskly through the aisles selling ‘katta mitta orange’— colorful assortment of sweet-and-sour candies neatly displayed on circular trays made from discarded cinema film reels. During the hot months, they switched to selling ‘kaakdi’ — peeled snow white cucumbers, gently sliced and sprinkled with salt and chili powder, a refreshing treat for weary travelers.

Another unforgettable sight was that of the ‘Vasudevs’ — men dressed in strikingly colorful headgear who went door to door singing the Lord’s glory to earn a modest living. Sometimes, they were accompanied by a decorated bull, adding color and devotion to the scene.

Not all scenes were pleasant, though. I remember being horrified by a few men from a particular community who would publicly whip their own backs with knotted cords — a painful ritual performed to earn alms from onlookers.

But among all these, my favorite memory remains the ‘Usaa cha Ras’ shops that offered fresh sugarcane juice extracted by a wooden press turned by a circling bull inside a makeshift tent. The villagers who ran these ‘Rasvanti Gruha’ or stalls would sing Marathi folk songs while the bull moved patiently in circles, the rhythm of the song matching the turning of the press.

These scenes from Poona’s streets, though simple and humble, remain deeply etched in my memory — each a glimpse into the city’s vibrant and diverse way of life. Loved those good old days!