When going out, food is but one of the factors on which the success or failure of the outing depends. Everything from the venue, to the seating, to the company, to the people who aren’t with you, but around you (what the younger generation calls ‘the crowd’), to the music, to the service, to the pricing, to the transportation, to the timing, to whether others enjoyed the time with us, all contribute in more or fewer ways to make up the whole score on one’s ‘happiness index’.
Running a hospitality joint is, therefore, fraught with risks of making everyone unhappy about something or the other, regardless of how good the actual food is. In short, you can never please everyone all the time. Managing the delicate balance of ensuring the guests are well-looked-after with giving people space and privacy is a tightrope walk few can pull off most time, leave alone nail it each and every time.
Is there a secret to this? Indeed there is, and that is humility. No, let me correct that: extreme humility. Regardless of how big you become, how tiny the cover, how rarely the guest comes, how little time they spend, or how much they care about you and your brand, humility in face of supreme odds can carry 99 days of 100. And when you are in Pune, this is one ingredient I have found missing, not just in restaurateurs and hoteliers, but generally in people, who once proudly dictated terms to the throne in Delhi. Humility, to a Punekar, is that strange skill they are unready, unwilling, and unable to even try to master.
And therein lies, in the modern world of hospitality, their downfall.
But there are notable exceptions. I am proud to say I know of 5 of them right here. Why did I say, ‘know of’ and not ‘know’? Because of one character trait these people possess in shiploads, and that is: making the person they are speaking to think that they are their BFFs.
Regardless of how rarely you see or speak to them, how infrequently you visit their place of business, how insignificant as a human you are, and how successful, celebrated, and feted as entrepreneurs they are, they speak to you, treat you, and offer you their hospitality like you are bum-chums. So, while prima facie, it would seem that I can claim to ‘know’ them, all I can actually say with a guarantee is that I ‘know of’ them.
The first is Swanand Bhave of Wadeshwar. He is now a very dear friend, but even when we weren’t close, I remember him for an incident where just because I had his number, I called him one fine morning when Tashuji (my wife) and I were breakfasting at their Market Yard outlet, then newly opened. Tashuji wanted to speak to him about the sambhar and how it tasted kind of off compared to what she was used to at their Fergusson College Road joint serving the same menu. I thought this was going to get awkward, because when she asked me to call him, I had assumed she just wanted to compliment him on the new outlet. I had no clue she’d launch into a complaint! But guess what happened? This man, the owner of one of the most well-known chain of Maharashtrian-South Indian QSRs in Pune, thanked her for her suggestion, and the next day, called me back, saying she should try it now. Apparently, he had worked since that call to ensure any glitches were smoothened and the taste was standardised! Who does that?
The second is Raj Mehta of Little Italy Group of Restaurants. he has an inspiring story of how he took over when his brother died suddenly and he had to come back to India to manage the business, and how he grew it not just in India but now in the UAE and Thailand. The food, without doubt, is brilliant. But that is not why it is a successful brand. Raj is perhaps the humblest person I have met. Whenever he speaks to a guest, his right hand crosses over his left breast and he bends slightly forward as a mark of respect. He speaks softly and never ever says no. Anyone meeting him for the first time will mistake him for a local floor supervisor or manager of the specific outlet one is dining in. And he never lets know that he is indeed the owner. He is superbly successful and yet, completely customer-driven. What a man!
The third is Priya Kripalani Mahtani of The Asian Box. She is such a superhero that I get tired simply thinking about what she manages to achieve in a day. She runs her salon, restaurants, dark kitchen, catering business, and manages all this through tremendous personal, financial, and emotional ups and downs. But does she let this show when you see her? Ha! She is the most fun person from this business I have ever had the pleasure of partying with. As an example, we recently got catered for my birthday party and she arrived with just 2 other people, took over the kitchen and dining, cooked, served, and cleaned up the place, and all the time, also being a guest at the party! She drank, told jokes, sang, but made sure every single guest got what they wanted, including mixing drinks, getting the ice out, cleaning up spills, and handing around cigarettes (and at one point, holding hands and pressing the head of someone who went on a bad trip) when needed. What a superhero! I have seen her in action at her restaurants and one would be hard-pressed to make out that she is the owner and not actually a guest at someone’s party. She circulates, she jokes, she laughs, she listens, she becomes part of your table and you think she is your best friend, until you realise that everyone at every table seems to think so too. Now, that’s some feat.
The fourth is Praful Chandawarkar of Malaka Spice. He is a dude I must admit I envy a bit. Started really really small, worked really really hard, cut zero corners, and most importantly, figured out what makes this business tick (other than food, which needless to say is genius-level at his restaurants): service. He invested (mainly his time, but also money) heavily into HR, found the right people, trained them, nurtured them, managed them, and let them shine. And boy, did they! Malaka Spice service is the gold standard in Pune today, if you ask me. He diversified into wines and other cuisines, holidays and hospitality, training and coaching, and dog alone knows what else. And he cuts a stylish figure with his glass of in-house wine and cigar, sitting as he surveys his fiefdom. But does he pick up the call should I dial him? 100% of the time. Does he go out of his way to help? No questions about it. Does he have airs about him that are indeed due to him because his success is now indisputable? Not the least. How does he manage it? How does he stay so humble and so customer-focused? I have no clue. But then, if everyone could do it, all of us would be Praful Chandawarkars!
The fifth and last (but surely not the least) is Karan Khilnani of Elephant & Co. He runs the most stylish watering hole in town, has people calling him in the middle of the night for tables, owns (at least) two outlets in Pune, has recently started brewing his own beer (the IPA is brilliant!), and is counted amongst the next superstar of the Pune industry. But if you indeed call him in the middle of the night requesting a table, what does he do? He answers the call, remembers your name, makes the table appear out of thin air for you, and then when you arrive, greets you at the door, leads you to the table, and hangs about chit-chatting as you order drinks. He will take your order, he will perhaps even bring you the beers himself, he will introduce his dog to you, he will take selfies and laugh at your jokes, besides continuously calling you, ‘Sir’ or “Ma’am’ (no, not at the same time, but you know what I am saying), and he will do this with EVERY table! If I were young and impressionable (which 50% of Karan’s crowd is), I’d be forgiven to think that he is my best friend. And he’d probably agree. Except I know I am not. I hardly know anything about him. I do not know his family. I do not know his likes or dislikes. I do not know where he stays. But Karan? He knows my name, my partner’s name, my dog’s breed, my favourite beer, the last thing I ordered on his menu, who I am related to within his other patrons, how often I come, and where I like to sit! A Gen Zoomer may be forgiven to think he is data-driven and is drawing this from some kind of an enterprisewide CRM. They’d be right. And wrong. Because as far as I know, his CRM is in his head, and he uses it not to drum up more business from his customers but to genuinely get to know them so as to serve them better. Business happens as a by-product. How do I know this? By the twinkle in his smile and the warmth in his handshake-hug when he greets me, his genuine laughter when we speak, his treatment of my guests and myself, and the fact that he doesn’t have to do all of this to get my custom. I am a lifelong fan of E Co. He can ignore me and still not lose a single paisa of business. But he does not. And for that, I am grateful.
There you go. An appreciation post for 5 people who I think are my friends, and who probably are. But they are also friends with 5,000 other people who come and eat at their restaurants. And that, I can assure you, is truly a superpower everyone wishes they had.
Spoons, and bottoms, up to you, mates. You are all rockstars!
