Nagpur: “Paan khaaye saiyaan hamaaro… saanvali suratiyaa hoth laal-laal….…” Once upon a time, these melodious Bollywood lines were not just lyrics from a golden-era song, they reflected an entire culture, a lifestyle and a beloved post-dinner ritual deeply rooted in Indian society. Today, sadly, only the songs remain alive on the lips of music lovers, while the juicy, aromatic paan that once united generations is slowly disappearing from Nagpur’s streets and social life.
There was a time when paan was not merely a mouth freshener. It was style, status, hospitality and emotion wrapped inside a glossy green betel leaf. From common labourers to businessmen, politicians, poets and aristocrats, everyone had their favourite paanwala and preferred blend of flavours. Every street corner in Nagpur proudly housed a brightly decorated paan thela glowing under yellow bulbs late into the night.
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But today, the traditional paan culture appears to be gasping for survival as toxic kharra and gutkha have replaced the age-old delicacy among Nagpurians.
A decade or two ago, paan lovers, fondly called “paan shaukins,” would routinely gather at paan stalls after dinner. It was more than a habit; it was an evening social ceremony. Friends discussed politics, cricket and cinema while waiting for the paanwala to artistically prepare their favourite paan. The fragrance of gulkand, saunf, cardamom and rose essence filled the air as copper containers clicked open one after another.
The paanwala himself carried a regal aura. His tiny stall resembled a miniature royal court. Neatly arranged betel leaves, shining silver boxes, colourful ingredients, lime paste, catechu and sweet fillings transformed the humble thela into a cultural landmark. Some paanwalas even prepared customised frozen paans for special customers, wrapped in silver foil, chilled with ice and sealed elegantly with a cherry-topped toothpick. For many Nagpurians, resisting such indulgence was impossible.
Back then, paan was associated with celebration and refinement. Weddings ended with paan counters. Family gatherings were incomplete without meetha paan. Guests were welcomed with folded betel leaves as a gesture of respect and warmth.
Now, that elegance has largely vanished.
The rise of gutkha, kharra and tobacco mixtures has dramatically changed Nagpur’s chewing culture. Quick addiction has overtaken leisurely enjoyment. Traditional paan preparation, which once involved patience, artistry and conversation, has been replaced by instant sachets and harmful mixtures sold in every lane.
Many old paanwalas in Nagpur say the younger generation no longer appreciates the authentic taste of paan. Instead of sitting and enjoying a freshly made Banarasi or Kalkatti paan, people now rush through their routines, often preferring tobacco products despite growing health concerns.
Several iconic paan stalls that once remained crowded till midnight now struggle to attract customers. Some have shut down completely, while others survive only by selling cigarettes, gutkha and cold drinks. The colourful identity of the traditional paan thela is slowly fading from the city’s landscape.
Ironically, Bollywood songs continue to keep the nostalgia alive. Even today, music lovers smile when the legendary lines echo through speakers:
“O khaike paan Banaras waala,
Khul jaaye band akal ka taala…”
The evergreen song immortalised paan in popular culture, turning it into a symbol of carefree joy and desi charm. Yet outside the world of cinema, the real paan culture is struggling to survive in modern urban life.
Elderly residents of Nagpur often recall how paan once brought people together. Unlike today’s hurried lifestyles dominated by mobile phones and packaged addictions, paan stalls served as social hubs where strangers became friends and conversations flowed endlessly.
What is disappearing, they say, is not just a food habit, but an entire cultural experience.
As Nagpur embraces malls, cafes and fast-paced modernity, the humble paan, once the undisputed king of India’s street delicacies, now survives mainly in memories, old songs and fading traditions. The red-stained smiles, the aroma of fresh betel leaves and the charm of the paanwala’s artistry are slowly becoming relics of another era.
