Gole Bazaar 1960s - Screw Drivers

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Another corner-landmark on the High Street was this huge hardware shop owned by a corpulent Marwari, short, stout, swarthy, ever in dhoti and banian sitting on a metal folding chair in the verandah and presiding over the proceedings and keeping a keen lookout on his half a dozen sales boys and customers with a hawk-eye.

Somehow I always wanted a screw driver those days. I think the 1960s were full off screws of all sizes. And since I was perennially hard up, I used to buy screw drivers from handcarts and pavement shops.

First I bought one with a wooden handle and then a transparent hard plastic handle. They just cost about a rupee each. And when I go home and try screwing or unscrewing, the metal driver would ease out of its handle. And then I try hard in vain to turn the thin long metal rod with my hand and recall whatever I read in Class X of the moment-arm, lever and mechanical advantage...these bookish gobbledygook is really true man!

And if I buy one with a strong glue, it would then turn out that the nose of the screw driver yields...I mean it gets twisted out of shape and useless. And then I buy a really hard-nosed one. And find that its nose is too thick to fit into the groove of the screw. And then I hunt for one with a nose as sharp as the proverbial thin end of the wedge. And it turns out to be so sharp that one of the labia on either side of the groove of the screw head would chip off and fall down.

THEN s**t hits the fan and I feel as foolish as Uncle Podger.

After several of these adventures I decided to ask my wise friend N about it. He laughed and said that the only screw driver that is calamity-proof is of the Taparia Brand:

http://www.hmdoyal.com/products/taparia/screwdriver/sd1.htm

And he said the only place I could get one is that Corner-Mawari shop.

The next time I visited Gole Bazaar I walked timidly to the rotund chap on the folding chair and asked for a Taparia Screw Driver. He then almost smiled and shouted:

"Arrey Oh Ramoo! Bada Babu ko Taparia Screw Set dikhao...jaldise...saalah!"

And in a minute Ramoo fetches a dozen Taparia things and asks me to choose the size. They looked so cute that I wanted to buy them all. But, you know, I selected one that the Marawari Babu suggested and asked how much.

"Keval thees rupia (Rs 30 only) babu"

By then I was in a false position and had no retreat that didn't demean the prestige of IIT...IIT ka tempo high-high!

So, I pocketed it, emptied my purse and had to forgo the default chai in Sweet India...

But the Taparia thing is still in my tool kit...as good as new after screwing and unscrewing hundreds of recalcitrant screws.

Right across the road from the hardware shop was this Anarkali Hotel. In and out it looked dingy but full of customers. It was owned by an atypical Sardarjee...he was short and dark like the object of racist remarks by that US Vice Consul Lady who had to quit ignominiously:

http://www.ndtv.com/article/india/racist-remarks-row-us-vice-consul-leaves-chennai-posting-129217

And if anyone asked him why his joint is so dark, he would have answered that it was the in-thing then...'concealed lighting'.

My friend V once took me as a parasite to Calcutta in 1967...he was going to get his US visa and needed moral support. And in celebration of his success, he took me for lunch to a high-end joint called Amber Restaurant near Paradise in Waterloo Street. I was dumbfounded...it was not at all like our Harrys...so very ill-lit that I couldn't make out my neighbor. The thing I liked best were those unlimited number of onions pickled in vinegar...never tasted anything like them before or after.

Reverting to Anarkali, it was a nice enough watering hole around, but with this delicate hazard that there would be a couple of third years smiling goofily and saying:

"Hello Sir!...hic..."

I mean if you are a prude...

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