B. Merwan finally closes down
After serving bun maska and chai for 112 years, Mumbai’s iconic Irani cafe B Merwan & Co closes, leaving Grant Road without its morning ritual
Mumbai has a peculiar way of measuring time. Not by calendars or clocks, but by places. By the tea stall you stopped at before college. By the bakery where your parents queued on Sunday mornings. By cafés where generations quietly grew up over cutting chai and buttered bread. When one of these disappears, the city feels slightly unfamiliar. That is exactly what has happened with the closure of B. Merwan & Co, one of Mumbai’s most loved Irani cafés, which shut its doors on January 1, 2026, after 112 years of uninterrupted service.
A Café That Watched Mumbai Grow Up
Founded in 1914 by Boman Merwan, B. Merwan & Co was located strategically opposite Grant Road railway station. Over time, this became one of its biggest strengths. There was a period when trains were said to halt a little longer at Grant Road, giving passengers enough time to rush out and grab baked goodies from Merwan’s. Old-timers still recall Hack Victorias and early taxis lined up outside the station, drivers sipping chai while waiting for customers and inevitably reaching for bun maska on the side.
Long before food trends and viral menus, this Irani café mastered the art of doing simple things consistently well. There were no reinventions here. The menu stayed loyal to its roots, and so did the clientele.
What Made B. Merwan & Co So Beloved
Ask any patron what they ordered, and the answers rarely varied. Bun maska with chai was nonnegotiable. The mawa cakes, rich and crumbly, often sold out by early afternoon. Maska khari, plum cake, cookies and modest bakery staples completed the spread. The space itself carried the weight of memory. Glass-topped wooden tables, old Iranian chairs, red checkered tablecloths, and a rhythm that belonged to another time. It was also famously easy on the wallet, a rarity in a city where nostalgia often comes with a hefty price tag.
Trivia that regulars love to repeat is that if you arrived late in the day hoping for mawa cake, you were already too late. Shelves were often wiped clean by lunchtime, a quiet testimony to its loyal following.
The Closure That Took Everyone by Surprise
According to reports by Mid Day, the café officially shut business on the first day of 2026. The notice on the door thanked patrons for their support but offered no further explanation. News spread the old-fashioned way, through regulars calling regulars, through murmured conversations on station platforms, and finally through social media posts filled with disbelief.
This was not the first time Merwan faced uncertainty. In 2014, the café had temporarily shut for repairs, triggering similar panic. When it reopened, the relief was palpable. This time, however, there has been no reopening, no reassurance, and that silence feels final. Members of the close knit Parsi Irani café community too reportedly learnt of the closure only after patrons began discussing it. There were no public statements, just an acceptance that one more light had gone out.
Social Media, Memories and Missed Last Meals
As news broke, social media was flooded with personal stories. People spoke of morning rituals before office, of college friendships forged over shared plates, of parents introducing them to bun maska as children. Many lamented not knowing that their last visit was indeed their last. The regret was not about food alone, but about not saying goodbye. For many, B. Merwan & Co was a constant. In a city where restaurants open and shut with alarming speed, its permanence felt reassuring. Losing it feels like losing a familiar street corner.
The closure of B. Merwan & Co is not an isolated event. It reflects a larger, more worrying trend. Spiralling real estate prices make sustaining low-margin eateries nearly impossible. Staffing shortages have become chronic. Younger generations are often unwilling to take over businesses that demand long hours with limited financial reward.
Add to this changing tastes, regulatory pressures, and the simple exhaustion of running heritage establishments in a rapidly modernising city. Together, these factors have steadily pushed Irani cafés off Mumbai’s gastronomic map.
An End of an Era, One Less Table to Sit At
Grant Road remains one of Mumbai’s oldest stations, but without Merwan’s across the road, something feels incomplete. The fraternity of Irani café owners grows smaller, and with it, a way of life slips further into memory.
Food lovers will mourn the mawa cakes they can no longer buy. Regulars will miss their habitual chai stops. Mumbai, as a city, will be poorer for it.
As another café goes kaput, it is a reminder that heritage does not disappear overnight. It fades quietly, like butter melting into warm bread. Once gone, there is no recreating it. All that remains are stories, photographs, and the lingering taste of bun maska that once defined mornings at Grant Road.
Will be missing you immensely