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Food

Bandra Byes: It’s Shutters Down For The Bagel Shop And Santa Maria

When beloved neighbourhood cafés fade away, they take pieces of us with them. In Bandra, Mumbai, the closures of The Bagel Shop and Santa Maria’s feel like partings from old friends.

| Raul Dias
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As a lifelong Mumbaikar, the Queen of the Suburbs, aka Bandra, has always been my anchor. Its streets winding like old stories I never tire of hearing. Each corner hides a memory, a laugh, a meal shared. Which is why it feels especially cruel for nostalgists like me when places that once held those moments quietly slip away.

Rising Above All

The Bagel Shop on Pali Hill, which first opened its doors in 2006, was never just about bagels. For nearly two decades, it stood as a sanctuary, with its moss-green walls and leafy courtyard always carrying a gentle hum of life. It was one of the first cafés in Mumbai that opened its arms to pets, and for me, that was everything. I still remember the first time I walked in with my dog, Rei, and nobody frowned, nobody asked me to tie her outside. Instead, she was given water in a little bowl, while I sat with a lox and cream cheese shmear bagel that seemed to taste better than any other because I wasn’t eating it alone. That small grace note made The Bagel Shop a place of belonging.

It wasn’t just the food! Though who could forget the brekkie favourite of the open-faced truffle scramble on brioche or the sun-drenched afternoons that somehow paired best with their seasonal mango milkshakes? It was the conversations, the scripts scribbled on napkins, the way the café seemed to collect people like treasured mementoes, keeping them close. Over the years, it became one of those rare places where regulars slipped into familiar chairs. Our very own Central Perk from F.R.I.E.N.D.S., in a way.

So when the news broke recently that The Bagel Shop was shutting down, it felt like the end of an era. But then came the clarification: it wasn’t really shutting its doors, not entirely. Ownership was changing hands. The space would remain, and with it, perhaps, some of the spirit. And yet, anyone who has loved a neighbourhood haunt knows the unease that comes with such transitions. Will the bagels (if they’ll still do them that is!) taste the same? Will the staff greet you with the same warmth? Will the courtyard still hold its lazy Sunday magic? Or will it become just another cookie-cutter café with the same menu but none of the soul? For those of us who cherished the older management, these are questions that sting with uncertainty.

Double Whammy

And then, as though the heartache needed a companion, came the news of Santa Maria. A neophyte by comparison, it opened only in April 2024, tucked into Ranwar village like it had always belonged there. But somehow, in the briefest time, it rooted itself into our lives. Its menu was a map of the neighbourhood, sandwiches christened after people and places we knew — the meat feast that is the Ranwar Square, the pistachio redolent Markie’s Mortadella, or the cheeky Miss Rosella with the hint of sweet rosella jam melding with the intensely savoury fried chicken breast. Eating there felt like stepping into a story where the protagonist was always Bandra.

I often found myself there on unplanned afternoons, biting into a toasted Ranwar Square while overhearing conversations about music, art, or simply what the sea looked like that day from Bandstand yonder. It was the sort of place that blurred the line between customer and community. So when their latest Instagram post appeared — plain, almost apologetic — saying that August 24th would be their last day, it felt like a farewell letter written far too soon.

The reasons, of course, linger unspoken but obvious. Rents in Bandra rise faster than bread in an oven! Landlords see opportunity in shiny chains with deep pockets. Independent cafés, no matter how loved, fight battles they rarely win. And so, the quieter ones, the soulful ones, bow out. Or in The Bagel Shop’s case, hopefully transform into something that will still resemble the place we adored.

Pure Nosh-talgia 

But here’s what the glossy newcomers will never grasp: places like The Bagel Shop and Santa Maria aren’t just eateries. They are living rooms for strangers, chapels for dreamers, and backdrops for countless stories that don’t make it to Instagram. They are what make Bandra feel like Bandra.

And yet, even in parting, both have left us a sliver of hope. The Bagel Shop promises continuity under its new owners, and Santa Maria hints at returning in another avatar, somewhere down the line. Perhaps they will. Perhaps not. But I choose to believe them, because sometimes belief is the only thing that keeps nostalgia from curdling into despair.

For now, I hold on to the echo of bagels shared with my Rei, the satisfying bite of Miss Rosella, and the laughter of afternoons that stretched into evenings. Hope may be fragile, but it is all we have to go by, no?

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