The girl who grew up in a bakery

Memories of Hearsch Bakery

Memory Keepers Of Bandra is a project that documents oral history of the senior generation who live or have lived in Bandra, Mumbai. Through their lived experiences, it pieces together history, geography, culture and community, and offers an insight into the neighbourhood.

I was talking to the D’Souza family at El Doardo on Covent Road (you’ll find the chat with them on my substack homepage under Finding Sunshine On Convent Road) , when in passing Aunty Crystal who is the matriarch of the house, happened to mention that she grew up in a bakery. Not just any bakery, but the Bandra icon, Hearsch Bakery.

The bakery with its J Hearsch signage

My earliest childhood recollections are associated with the smell of freshly-baked bread.

We used to see the bakers kneading the flour, making it into dough. We had wooden vats in which the dough was kept to proof, to rise and double up. Then they would bring it out, again knead it, then put it back in the tubs. We used to watch that. Then when the oven was heated up, the bakers used to allow us to throw in leaves. They were very indulgent with us.

For Holy Thursday, we used to make a lot of buns, I think it used to be about a thousand that we used to make. And the buns were lined up on Wednesday, in the hall. We used to put a Satrangi and they were lined up there. The whole house used to smell of buns, hot cross buns. And in the morning, they were taken to the various churches in Bandra, sometimes even out of Bandra.

Pao coming out of the oven. This is a Bandra bakery, but not Hearsch.

But before we talk about Aunty Crystal’s memories of the bakery, I’m curious about how her family ended up at Hearsch bakery.

Turns out Hearsch bakery was owned by a Mr Jacob Hearsch. He was a jew, and when the Second World War was imminent, he decided that it was safer to leave the country and move to Australia. So he sold the bakery to a Parsi gentleman called Mr. Bamboat. Who in turn sold it to Aunty Cystal’s grandmother from her fathers side. And in time her father and mother took on the responsibility of the bakery. Actually, her father was an engineer, who would also take up contractual jobs, and so it was her mother who ran the bakery.

What is touching was how the name has never changed, and it’s still named after the original Mr Hearsch. In fact Aunty tells me about how Hearsch’s grand daughter traced the bakery and came visting. Listen to her talk about it.

I also tried to trace J Hearsch by trawling through old newspapers and here’s what I found.

The Bombay Gazette 19th March 1890

There was bakery opened in Falkland road by a Mr. M Hearsch in 1890

The Times Of India 30th April 1912

By 1912, it looks like he had a branch at Hill Road, Bandra. Going by the surname I am guessing M Hearsch and J Hearsch were related.

And finally the name J Hearsch of Bandra appears in 1921 with an ad for a bill collector for the bakery. Followed by ad in 1925, looking for a bungalow in Andheri, presumably to expand the business. The mood was probably still upbeat and the shadow of war did not loom large.

The Times Of India 29th September 1921

The Times Of India 3rd August 1925

While I’m chatting with Aunty, I remember someone who lives near a bakery at Bazaar Road telling me they’ve always woken up to the sound of the trays being stacked and prepared. I ask Aunty what does she remember.

The actual preparation would start in the afternoon, say, by about three or four. They would start kneading the flour, and it was all done by hand. It took time, because the bread had to be proved twice, it had to be allowed to rise twice. The first time it was allowed to prove, and then after two hours, it was brought out, and they used to knead it again, and it was put back inside to prove. Then in the evening, at about 7.30, they used to start preparing the trays. That was interesting, seeing how they used to do it. And you know, the bakers were so fast, and they used to also have to weigh the dough, because each loaf had to be a certain weight. So we had these old-fashioned weighing machines with scales, and they used to weigh it, then quickly make the bread . The rolls were those figures of eight. The hot dogs were different, the normal bread was different, and the Gutlis were round. That was interesting.

Then in the morning, after the bread was baked, and the oven lost its fierce heat, those who wanted their cakes to be baked used to bring them at about 7.30, and then they used to be baked. Piglings were also put in for roast and they used to come out sizzling, crisp. That was another good memory of being close to a bakery.

Another favourite memory is what Aunty calls our idea of heaven

We used to have fresh bread, especially the gutlis, hot, and we used to cut them. In those days, it used to be Polsons's butter. It was our idea of heaven.

Polson Butter ads in the 40's. Delicious beyond decription sounds about right.

Listen to growing up to the smell and sounds of bread and Polson’s butter in Aunty’s own words. (PS: I am now officially fascinated by Polson’s butter. Next newsletter will probably feature it.)

There’s also a fabulous article written by Aunty, which you must read.

But all good things eventually come to an end. And during the Indo-China War of 1962, there was scarcity of maida in the open market. Each bakery was alloted a fixed number of bags of flour. And it was difficult to get those bags on time.

So my mom was forced to buy it on the open market, and the price was higher. Now, in that case, you cannot raise the price of bread. You're supposed to deal with the losses. So that's why she gave it on leave and license. And then not one of my four brothers was interested in running it. Each of them, they took up their own trade. So that was it. But no regrets, because we enjoyed having all the benefits of having a bakery next door.

Aunty Crystal as she chats with me over tea. And the Hearsch Bakery signage.

Thanks for reading this. Aunty also ran me through all the old Bandra libaries and movie halls of her youth, but that’s for another newsletter. Till then, here’s something for you to watch. I call it How I met your mother - the bakery edition.

No part of this writeup, photographs or vidoes, can be reproduced or shared without permission. Thank you Aunty Crystal and Brian for talking to me and letting me write and record Aunty’s story. I ate many Brun pao’s with butter and tea while writing this one. A big thank you to the two people without whom I could never do this - Anirban and Huzefa for all the support, tech help, shooting and editing. And Brian, who is my offical no-procrastination chaser. And finally, all research and digging on J Hearsch was possible thanks to the digital archives of the Asiatic Society Of Mumbai.