All of us are familiar with neighbourhood corner shops that supply us with all essential items of daily use. These days, perhaps these shops have become quite posh looking and are stocked with items other than necessities . However, there was a time when these shops had just the basic things like atta, dal, chaawal, cooking oil, bread, butter and eggs besides a few other things like notebooks, ballpoint pens and some toffees. Refrigerators were not within the reach of such small shopkeepers and they could not keep perishable items. Nevertheless , these “corner shops” were a boon for the residents as they did not have to go to the far away bazaar to fetch everyday supplies for their kitchens.
While I was in Class VII, we were staying at Race Course in the Doon valley. Race Course had several of these little shops in those days as it is a rather sprawling colony. The most popular of these shops was one owned by a middle-aged man called Bhola Ram. let me mention here that Race Course, even today, is a place where you will find a large number of Sikhs — many who came here as refugees in 1947, some are from Kashmir and some from Kabul. All in all, it is inhabited by Punjabis who have created an air of comfort, warmth and informality that stamps this locality and can be felt by any visitor.
Race Course grows on a person and never fails to charm people. It has an unhurried atmosphere even in this fast-paced world. And the times that I am talking about were not fast paced at all! Bhola Ram ji had all the time in the world to talk to his customers, ask after their well-being and discuss his own troubles with them. With each person who came to his shop, he was on very familiar terms. They would address him as “Chacha ji” or “Taaya ji”, “Uncle ji”, or “Bhai sahib”, depending on their age and the equation they had with him. He knew all by their names and behaved like a magnanimous gentleman whom people loved to visit and chat with. And much like it happens at such shops, they would speak with each other while buying the groceries and update themselves on the latest information starting from the colony level and going up to international politics. Women who came up to pick atta or cooking oil would share their woes with Bhola Ram ji , who would address them as “Beta”, “Bahu” ,”Bahan ji” ,”Bhabhi ji” or even “Chachi ji” or “Maa ji”. He lent a sympathetic ear to all and a visit to his shop may have been a great stress-buster for many.
Bhola Ram had a Charlie Chaplin type moustache and jet black hair (I think it was dyed). He always dressed in a white Kurta Pajama , wearing a black sweater over it in winters. When my mother sent me on my bicycle to fetch a loaf of bread from Bhola Uncle, I would feel really grown up and responsible. He would ask me how my parents were and also about the landlord’s family. He would send messages through me that were meant to be given from some resident to my landlady or some neighbour.I would gladly deliver all messages as in those days, not many people had telephones at home.
On one of my visits , a naughty little boy came to buy eggs and bread and as soon as he received these in his hands, he started walking away without paying anything to Bhola Ji. When asked by him about this, the boy laughed and said the money would be given in the evening by “Chidiya’s Bhabhi”. The boy vanished and Bhola Ram kept wondering who Chidiya was! Of course, there was no such person.Bhola Ram was true to his name and had a perpetually innocent look on his face . He was a good sort and often gave us toffees free of cost alongwith a generous smile. I think everyone had great love and regard for him.
Some years ago, I went to Race Course and saw that a stylish bakery had replaced that old shop.When I asked about Bhola Ram ji, one or two people could remember him and I was very sad to know that he had left his home due to some family dispute years ago and nobody knew of his whereabouts.Whenever I see a corner shop anywhere, I always think of my childhood and of Bhola Uncle.