Bachi Karkaria's Tales from TJ Road: A third generation jeweller's glittering story of upward mobility, gentrification

Read more columns in this series here.***And the streets are paved with gold shopsSewri is ‘Lowest Parel’. It has none of the mall-to-mall carpeting of Lower Parel, or Upper Worli as it was tarted up before it became aspirational in its own right. Gentrification is still a work in progress in Sewri, with much of its mill heritage still existing in the form of chawls, kirana, shops — and, yes, vada-pav stalls. If it is such a working-class neighbourhood, how come there are so many jewellers, some 20 of them within 100 metres? This thought struck me as soon as I came to live here in 2008. I was told, ‘Oh that’s because they double as pawnshops and moneylenders.’ This week I found out what should have been obvious. There are so many of them because, for the working class, there’s no investment other than gold.I’d never had reason to step into any of the four outside my gate but I did frequent one of the patwas who are a fixture outside jewellery shops to restring beads or pendants. So, I asked him which were the oldest jewellery shops of the locality. He named three. I picked one at random, and Bingo! Not only was it THE oldest, but also its owner had an interesting story — and the time, inclination and articulation to tell it.Sha Achaldas Amichand Shroff was started on TJ Road by the gentleman of the same name when he left his Rajasthani hamlet of Rani Station  in1935. ‘Sha’ was the title used by old-time jewellers. ‘Shroff’ is the surname which indicates profession; it’s the anglicised version of ‘Saraf’, meaning bullion dealer. The founder’s stern photograph in dagla, dhoti, pughree, moustache and tika is framed prominently at the entrance — above the day’s gold rate neatly written in chalk on a slate, with a silver puja tray beside it. Gold is the stuff of celebration, and those who trade in it are even more conscious of ritual than the other shopkeepers on this chaotic, hawkered street.Sanjeev Jain, 50, is the grandson now minding the store, his father having retired. His son Shub, 25, makes up the fourth generation to stand behind the periodically upgraded counter. Achaldas had only his Marwari genes; Sanjeev supplemented these with a BCom, while Shub went further with a Bachelor in Business Studies. His younger brother Deep, 20, is still at Lala Lajpatrai College, pursuing the same degree in preparation of continuing in the same shop. They also have a wholesale rose-gold jewellery business at Zaveri Bazar. Sanjeev’s paternal uncle, ‘Bade Dada’, as he describes him, branched into his own Purnima Jewellers some 50 steps away; cousin Kiran runs Abhushan Jewellers also in the vicinity.Chatting with Sanjeev in his dark patterned shirt pinned with a tiny ‘YSL’ logo, I discover that both owner and shop represent the change that this column seeks to track. Like the Gadas of Milan Hardware, whom I featured earlier, the paterfamilias, Achaldas, first lived in the tenement above his shop, the lumbering Mithibai building which wraps around two blocks on TJ Road and the arterial Acharya Dhonde Marg. The Mafatlals built it for the workers of their China Mill.[caption id="attachment_9754031" align="alignnone" width="640"] (L) A framed photo of the shop’s founder, Sha Achaldas Amichand Shroff. (R) Third generation jeweller Sanjeev Jain and one of his three helpers[/caption]Sanjeev lived in the chawl till he was 20, then, again like the Gadas moved to the nearby multistoried Veena Beena Cooperative Society which rose on the railway wagons workshop of Mackinnon MacKenzie. In 2009, with business — and the stock market — doing well, Sanjeev’s parents, his wife and two sons upgraded even more impressively to a three-bedroom apartment, 1,400 sq ft carpet, in the swanky Ashok Gardens, a brisk five-minute walk from the jewellery store.Of course, Sanjeev is proud of his upward mobility, a planet away from the cramped, common-bathroom life of his growing up years. But, prodded, he mistily recalls the camaraderie, the always-open doors, the neighbourliness, the ‘feeling’ as he calls it, of chawl living. It was ‘one big family that shared ‘sukh-dukh’. And of yes, the exuberance of festival time, with diyas in the doorway and kandeels in the corridors. There’s nothing that compares in his new deodorised, landscaped gated community.Festive time aka bonus time was also great business time for their jewellery shop, as it was for all the traders of TJ Road. Even otherwise, mill workers bought mangalsutras for wives and gold chains for themselves and their family.  Sanjeev regrets that most of those old residents have moved out, no longer able to afford the high rentals of the fast-gentrifying area. But, several of them still come all the way from Vashi, Panvel whenever they need a piece of jewellery. “Faith and trust are the pillars of our business, and, like a family doctor, people have jewellers like us on whom they have depended for three or more generations.”Old is gold, literally, but as Sanjeev says, “Change is always there.” Today’s great facilitator is the smart phone, “which everyone now has. Our younger clients come with a print-out of a ring, bracelet or even mangalsutra they have searched on Google, and want a custom-made design. We have our own workshop so we can copy it.” And, oh yes, courtesy his sons, he has his own Facebook page: achaldasamichand. Gentrification here too.