To Toto’s, with sobriety and love

To understand a bar, as a scene, rather than a place, in toto—you have to go beyond the booze

Okay, trivia Q for Bombayites: Exactly where would you be in the city, if standing before a Volkswagen Beetle, number-plate BLI 1196? 

Easy. Inside Toto’s Garage Pub. Specifically at the corner of a congested Pali Naka, slightly atop Bandra, the empress of Bombay’s suburbs.

That Beetle is for real. It was physically rolled in to hang over the bar, I’m told, by Bollywood set-designer Bijon Das Gupta, for the pub’s motor-garage look. By the Beetle is the front of a Maruti Omni, jutting out of a wall, with the number-plate, 1992—that’s when Toto’s was born; Dec 29, to be precise. 

A year after that, in Dec, 1993, Ghetto came up in Breach Candy—as if it was an outpost/answer to Toto’s in ‘town’. It’s an unrelated bar, of the same vibe/genre, playing western rock, pop classics, to thirsty ‘faithfuls’, forever. 

In fact, the vintage, half-Omni on Toto’s wall houses the resident DJ (Colin), who I didn’t even know existed, until I found out two nights ago. And I’ve been going to Toto’s for almost 20, of its 30 years! 

What do you need a DJ for, when the playlist is the same—and why shouldn’t that be, anyway? Is your preferred drink, the bizarrely tall bar-stool, or bar-tenders in ‘non-besharam’ saffron overalls, any different?

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Even Kamlesh, the ‘cigarette guy’, off the gate, set up his stall, about six months after Toto’s opened its doors. It’s the same old-man at the Toto’s door too, who walks across to check if I’ve been fine. 

I’d fallen sick. Haven’t been drinking lately. He knows that—a bit like an unobtrusive guardian. Supreme comfort in such sameness. 

Also, do the relatively no-frill bars survive for longer, because the music they play is equally ageless? It’s certainly true for ’80s hits at On Toes, in Juhu—that’s even older than Ghetto, and Toto’s. 

Same with Café Mondegar (Mondy’s), their contemporary, in Colaba, WTF, in Versova, touching 14, is getting there, too. Most of their far-off or neighbouring bars/rivals have come and gone since. 

I was at Toto’s on its 30th birthday. It was like any other night. The immortals, it appears, don’t make a deal of landmark anniversaries. 

Toto’s founder, Ashok Totlani, an elderly, sober gentleman, familiar to regulars, passed away on November 18, 2022. His son, equally quiet, well-read, Aloke, has replaced him professionally. There is a plaque, ‘Toto Uncle’—between European, American, Indian car number-plates—by the loo-door, to commemorate Mr Totlani, on whom Toto’s is named.

The Totlanis are also the reason CAs of Toto’s frequent customers have wondered, over years—what is this asset their clients keep parking into Totlani Investments Pvt Ltd for, every other day/week, that’s never seen any returns? Totlani Investments is on the bill you pay for drinks at Toto’s.

Don’t go by the looks. Between the door, dilapidated Beetle and Omni, Toto’s is the size of a basic, Bombay bedroom. The bill on your lap could be heavy still. As with all bars in Mumbai, priced the same as Manhattan, and at least twice/thrice more than rest of India.  Because real-estate’s a killer. Worse are alcohol excise rates by the city/state govt—that’s determined to overtax, plus over-regulate, any kinda outlet/entertainment for overworked upper/middle-classes. Artificial inflation to make up for the pandemic’s losses has made drinking/eating out worse still. 

Toto’s, of course, could make even more, if it turned into a chain. “One heart. One Toto’s”: that’s what you will overhear its co-founder Laju Bhatia say—usually hanging in the open-air section, in Hawaiian shirts, and dark glasses. He’s declined offers to expand into malls, other sites/cities. 

Laju Bhai, or Mr Bhatia, is the poet; Aloke, like his father, Mr Totlani, a proper proprietor. These two personality-types probably make for the best business pair. 

It’s commercially prudent to leave alone/untouched a (gravy) train, cruising on its ‘patri’/tracks. People, over generations, with families, and homes in other cities, show up at Toto’s, like college alumni, all the time. Along with usual suspects, and daily tourists.  

Kingfisher on tap is the same everywhere. Maybe they eagerly return for staples on the food-menu: chicken in (edible) wire mesh, keema pav, bun-omelette... Hell, yeah! But, really? No. 

Toto’s is a ‘scene’. What determines that? Chiefly, crowds on weekdays. Toto’s is packed, Monday onwards. Also, people—who come not just with old friends, but to make new ones; on occasion, starting with Mr Bhatia, or Aloke, if you may. 

Such neighbourhood institutions are rare in India. Still, more in Bombay than elsewhere. Restaurants can’t replicate that vibe. Coffeeshops come close, but they often appear like workplaces. 

Where else, that feels like home, can you silently, if in solitude, casually riff off the energy of others, from a distance, as if at a cinema, or concert. Usual nightlife scenes change, of course, especially among the young. 

How do you know a scene has evolved into an institution, though? When the more recurring last-names, saved on your phone are: WTF, Wong’s, Woodside, etc! 

I’m thinking all this, sipping warm water, with friends, at Toto’s—like Harivanshrai Bachchan, who wrote Madhushala, the ultimate ode to a watering hole, while a complete teetotaller himself. It’s not the booze, silly. It’ll always be about the bar.

Mayank Shekhar attempts to make sense of mass culture. He tweets @mayankw14
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The views expressed in this column are the individual’s and don’t represent those of the paper.

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