![]() ![]() As new customers enter, they exchange loud greetings with a wizened Irani sporting a prominent moustache and thick steel-rimmed glasses. In a corner, a well-dressed businessman reads The Bombay Chronicle, while a ‘modern’ woman opposite coolly waits for her breakfast. Students (chatting more loudly than they need to) tuck into their plates of omelettes. Families enjoy their morning tea and talk. He takes a sip of his strong chai and studies the character of the Irani café and its patrons. ![]() Slightly away from the scene outside, a smartly dressed Englishman with pomaded black hair and a lantern jaw, sits on a bentwood chair in Café Excelsior, an Irani café on Ravellin Street. Women in saris sit on flower-shrouded mats preparing garlands of roses and carnations and men in white kurtas dash around on errands. Barbers deftly wield razors, while the chappal-seller unpacks neat baskets of shoes from the shoemaker. The roads are thronged with bullock carts, cycles and pedestrians and there is bustle and noise all along the pavement.
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