Being Pune 4 (Part 1)

 I am born and grew up (a significant part of my life at least) in an area widely pin coded (I just made that up) as Pune 4. 

Pune 4 may be just a part of the city's pin code for some, but for me, and I believe several others (at the risk of sounding jejune) it signifies a way of being.

So what does Pune 4 stand for, after all?

At the outset, its lush (well, once upon a time) canopy of gulmohars, bouganvillas, rainbow trees, and a myriad other trees whose names I do not know. The green canopy is a cynosure for the eyes and conjures up a sense of homeWe share an unspoken camaraderie -- the trees and I. We greet each other as 'familiar strangers' do -- the kinds you see on your way to work in the bus or train.
Pune has abysmally narrow 'gallee' 'bol' (lanes and bylanes) that are its virtual lifeline(s), anything wider than 10 feet (in the heart of the city) would probably be detrimental for 'effective commuting'. 
While Pune 4 boasts of shaded pavements, further inside, the Peths (inner city; Peths were demarcated based on weekly markets and/or popular trades practiced in these areas. Over the years the inner city has become highly congested) welcome you with a lone, but significant Peepul and of course a swinging Dalda (an erstwhile Palm oil brand) garden. Precious greens potted in empty Dalda tins are a hallmark of the Peths. 

Pune 4 also means this tidy mesh of colleges and popular eateries that have mushroomed around them. 
Fergusson, BMCC, Ranade Institute, Gokhale institute, to name just a few are brands unto themselves. From a demographic perspective, Pune 4 has never quite aged, it is always 18, if not 16. 
Santosh bakery is yet another popular landmark in Pune 4 and boasts of (once upon a time) delicious puffs, popularly known as 'pattice'.
The flaky treat was earlier available only on Sundays and its  stuffing of pungent, garlicy potatoes would clear the worst clogged noses.
Come Sundays and the hitherto obscure bakery would be swarming with 'pattice lovers'. Elderly gents returning from morning walks, people walking dogs, kids, teens, men, women would all lay siege over its small, decrepit counter, fighting for their share of the 'manna' before it ran out...which it usually did around 10 in the a.m.
Today pattice is no longer a Sunday treat, and one can get it almost on all days. Of course the cost of this popularity was borne by the stuffing. The pungent, garlicy potatoes have shrunk to minuscule proportions.  

Pune 4 also means that you had an easy access to the theatre and several cinema halls. Catching a play at Balgandharva Rangmandir (Theatre) did not call for a five year planning. One just ran through the daily happenings section of the newspaper, and if you fancied a play, or a talk, and tickets were not sold out, you could simply regale yourself with an evening of good entertainment.

And which self respecting Punekar would walk out of Balgandharva without eating his/her worth of delicious batata wadas? Intermissions in the play meant you were fighting tooth and nail over a plate of batata wada and chai at a counter that was already besieged by another hundred odd starved souls (who had probably eaten a plate of wada before the show started). 
As a child I remember catching several 'children's plays' at the theatre. I do not recall much of the stories in these plays except that they usually had titles which ended in alliterations like 'toon tanak doon danak’and what could not be alliterated was turned into fantasies that would put Tim Burton to shame like ‘Bham bham bhootaachi bhambheri goshta’. The best part of the entire play was that you could exchange your ticket for a cup of vanilla ice cream. Simply hand in your ticket to the ‘kaka’ (uncle, in this case a polite way of referring to an elderly stranger) manning the ice cream cart and he would nonchalantly hand you a cup of ice cream.
And while at Balgandharva, you could also wheeze your way up to the first floor ‘art gallery’ which was infrequently cleaned and had all manner of mould and other ‘wheezing’ inducing substances floating in the air.

Nondescript and extremely unassuming, it showcased not only local talent, but some very interesting pieces of work from the rest of the country as well. As an ‘earning adult’ I had once bought a handmade ceramics mug from an artist in Jhabua (an area in Madhya Pradesh) from this art gallery. Jhabua and ceramics were both unknown to me until then.