While retaining its old-world charm, the evergreen Ripon Club is drawing in the younger generation from the Parsi community with its timeless menu and memories of an era gone by.
Image: Yash Shinde.
Where would you expect to find a time machine? In the pages of a Sci-Fi novel. The laboratory of an eccentric inventor. Perhaps in a world 100 years into the future. But certainly not in the hustle bustle of Mumbai’s Fort on a busy Tuesday morning.
Give it a try, however. Walk past the socks-sellers and pirated-book-purveyors and turn into one of the old, substantial buildings that stand along Mumbai’s MG Road.
Step into the golden age at Ripon Club
This particular building goes by the rather mundane name of NM Wadia Building. Wait for the old-fashioned lift which bears the stern admonition, “Lift not available for going down. By order.” Step inside the gleaming cage and sail up, past busy lawyers, preoccupied visitors, and a handsome wooden staircase (that you will no doubt be using on your way down).
Then, when the lift stops on the third floor, walk through wooden swing doors and step into another age. An era of antiquated telephone booths, even more antiquated rules, and post-prandial siestas. For no matter how hard you try to resist the cliché, the vast dining hall of the recently-renovated Ripon Club is a place where time stands still.
A bust of Sir Pherozeshah Mehta surveys the room from its pedestal. Other benevolent and forgotten visages look down from the walls. Outside the wide windows, the Gothic beauties of South Mumbai dose under the noonday sun — the sloping roofs of Mumbai University, the spire of Rajabai Clocktower, the crumbling skeleton of the former Watson Hotel where Mark Twain once spent many mornings getting acquainted with the wily Bombay crow.
Ripon Club’s old-world charm
Inside the dining room, empty easy chairs wait for gourmands who, after a heavy meal totter across for a nap and a desultory perusal of the newspapers. There are marble-topped tables surrounded by heavy teak chairs. And solicitous waiters, waiting to recite the menu of the day, loaded with Parsi and virtually-Parsi specialties like Wafer-par-Edu, Liver on Toast, Kashmiri Mutton Pulao Daal, and Akuri Pattice.
For my father, who was a Ripon Cub member for many years, the arrival of the monthly menu was occasion for much anticipation and discussion. “There is Chicken Soti Boti on Thursday,” he would announce gleefully. “And Bheja Cutlet on Friday. Shall we go?”
I regret the times that I turned down the offer — and the fact that I never did muster up the courage to sample Apple Jalebi. But there were many unforgettable occasions when I did take eager friends to Ripon Club for a meal after my father had tormented the caterer with a dozen calls and instructions: “Are you sure that the Bombay Duck will be fresh? And can you do Chicken Farcha as well? And make sure you have enough coffee ice cream.”
The Boomla was always fresh. The Chicken Farcha was always made available. And marvellous coffee ice cream was always sufficient. And my friends invariably enjoyed their lunch at Ripon Club — not just because of the rare Parsi meal but because of the eccentric atmosphere and the fact that Ripon Club lunches happen only when your stars are aligned.
A platform by pioneers
To be part of a Ripon Club repast you need to be invited by a member. Which means that you need to know a Parsi who is both hospitable and a member of the club that describes itself as a “quaint, ‘Old English-style’ establishment for professionals such as Lawyers, Businessmen, and Chartered Accountants to meet and enjoy their lunch”.
Ripon Club was founded in 1884 by three stalwarts — Sir Pherozeshah Mehta, a founder member and president of the Indian National Congress; Jamsetji Tata, pioneering industrialist; and Sir Dinshaw Petit, who founded the first textile mill in India. It was a club created by Parsis for Parsis club. And although it was named after Lord Ripon, the viceroy of India, Britishers were not welcome.
“When it was first established the prospective member had to be male, prominent, and British-returned (in other words he had to have been to Britain),” writes Tanya Luhrmann in The Good Parsi: The Fate of a Colonial Elite in a Postcolonial Society, adding that the club was meant as a space where Parsis with both nationalist and conservative political views could meet and have discussions without having to look over their shoulders.
An evergreen institution
Today, members don’t need to be prominent, “British-returned”, or even male (women are allowed a pale version of membership called “associate membership”). The membership fee is rather reasonable to encourage younger members of the community. Private events are also hosted through members. No wonder then that the dining room is softly abuzz with the hum of quiet conversations on some days… Specially over the Egg Chutney Pattice, Khurchan, and Jelly with Ice Cream.
Wednesdays and Fridays are the most popular days at the Club, as those are the days when the famous Mutton Dhansaak and Pulao and Daar are served, respectively.
Even those who are unfamiliar with Parsi cuisine are likely to recognise dhansak. The dish — which is achieved by simmering meat, lentils, and vegetables and is usually served with caramelised rice, tiny kababs, and heaps of kachumber — is the pizza of Parsi cuisine. It has made its way into five-star buffets, school canteens, and innumerable eclectic menus (alongside Shakshuka and Thai curry).
Delicious though they might be, none of those dhansaaks can compete with the meal offered at Ripon Club and consumed amidst South Mumbai spires, marble busts, glasses of Raspberry, planter chairs, whirring fans. And, of course, the cheerful greetings of friends who have been meeting at this particular buffet table and consuming this very meal every fortnight for decades.
Photos by Yash Shinde.
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