How Pune’s Railway History Helped Chiwda Travel Across India is, in many ways, the story of one handcart and two very important stations: Rewari and Pune.
It all began in 1930, when Laxminarayanji Data started selling snacks on a handcart at Rewari railway station in Haryana, serving hungry passengers between trains. Years later in Pune, that same spirit travelled on the Deccan Queen, where he would send tins of chiwda on board, ask regulars for feedback, and quietly refine a recipe that would one day come to define a city.
What looks today like a neatly printed packet of chiwda from Babus Laxminarayan Best Chiwda is actually the result of decades of experiments that happened on platforms, in crowded compartments and along the old Bombay–Poona line.
From Rewari Platforms to a Life on the Move
Before Pune ever tasted that iconic chiwda, there was Rewari.
In the early 1930s, Rewari was an important junction on the railway network of North India. For travellers, Laxminarayanji’s handcart was a small but reliable landmark, offering affordable snacks that could be eaten on the move.
Then came a turning point. Stories preserved in brand and family history describe a confrontation with a British officer that forced him to shut the stall and leave Rewari in a hurry. That single moment pushed him onto a series of trains which, over time, took him through multiple cities and regions. On this long detour, he watched how people ate on trains, what they packed for journeys and which snacks survived heat, crowds and time.
This travelling apprenticeship would quietly shape the chiwda that Pune now takes for granted.
Pune Joins the Railway Map
Pune’s connection to the railways began long before chiwda became a household word.
In the second half of the 19th century, the line from Bombay climbed over the Western Ghats and reached the Deccan plateau. The Khandala–Poona stretch opened in the late 1850s, turning Pune into a proper railway city. The difficult Bhor Ghat incline became an early symbol of railway engineering, but for ordinary passengers it simply meant this: Pune was now only a train ride away.
By 1930, when the Deccan Queen was introduced as a fast passenger train between Bombay and Poona, the route had become a busy corridor of commuters, students, officers and families. The Deccan Queen quickly turned into a status symbol of sorts, known for its punctuality, comfort and dining arrangements.
Into this world walked a man with a new recipe and a habit of listening very closely to what passengers said about their food.
Pune, a Handcart and the Poha Chiwda Idea
Once he settled in Pune, Laxminarayanji began again from scratch.
Family and brand accounts describe a hand-pulled cart in the cantonment area where he sold ice cream, sweets and early experiments in namkeen, including a poha-based mix that gradually began to stand out. What made this chiwda different was not just the ingredients, but also where and how it was tested.
Pune was already a junction on the trunk line that connected Mumbai to the south and east, which meant a steady flow of people who judged food with their eyes, fingers and first mouthful on the move. Instead of waiting for word-of-mouth to spread only through local neighbourhoods, Laxminarayanji treated the railway itself as his tasting ground.
Deccan Queen, the Moving Taste Panel
The Deccan Queen was special from the day it was introduced. With its smart coaches and reputation for keeping time, it attracted regular passengers who travelled between the two cities week after week.
For a snack maker in Pune, it offered something unique: a captive audience that included office-goers, students, traders and families, all sharing a few hours together in a train compartment.
Once the poha chiwda recipe had taken shape, tins and early packets found their way onto these trains, often through regular customers, friends and acquaintances. The idea was simple:
- Send chiwda along with trusted commuters
- Ask them to share it with co-passengers
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Listen carefully when they returned with comments
Too spicy for some, too mild for others, more peanuts, fewer raisins, less oil, a little more crunch — all of this came back as feedback. At a time when “market research” was not yet a formal concept, the Deccan Queen and other trains functioned as a moving focus group.
Slowly, the chiwda that people liked best emerged from this process of trial, error and listening. That style, refined in real time on the rails, would go on to become the signature Pune-style chiwda that people recognise today.
Trains as Invisible Distribution Partners
As the recipe stabilised and demand grew, Pune Junction and its outbound trains quietly became a distribution system, long before there were supermarket chains or online orders.
Passengers used the railway in three main ways to move chiwda out of Pune:
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Travel food
People packed chiwda in tins or paper packets for long journeys because it was light, non-messy and stayed crisp. -
Gifts from Pune
Like famous sweets or regional snacks from other cities, chiwda slowly became “that thing you bring back from Pune”. A visit often ended with one or more packets tucked into luggage. -
Student and posting routes
Students studying in Pune, and officers and employees temporarily posted there, took the taste back to home towns and new postings. In many families, the first introduction to Pune chiwda came not in Pune itself, but from a relative arriving by train with a packet in hand.
The major lines running through Pune — toward Mumbai, toward the south, toward the interior — effectively became taste corridors. Every time a train pulled out of the station with a few extra kilos of chiwda in bags and dabbas, it quietly extended the snack’s reach.
A Railway City with a Snack Reputation
Pune’s own food culture helped reinforce the story that the railways were carrying outward.
Over the decades, the city built a reputation for light, savoury snack foods: chiwda, farsan, bhel, misal and teatime namkeen. College canteens, old-city lanes, small farsan shops and family kitchens all contributed to that identity. For many visitors, Pune became the place where you taste certain snacks for the first time.
When someone tasted chiwda during a stay in Pune and then took it back on the train, they weren’t just carrying food. They were carrying a compressed piece of that experience: the station, the city, the chai, the evening light over the ghats.
In countless homes across India, “that chiwda from Pune” became a phrase loaded with both flavour and memory.
From Platform Story to Everyday Packet
In 1945, the chiwda that had been refined on carts and trains was formally registered as a brand. Over time, it grew into what people now know as BLBC, with a modern production setup, consistent quality and a presence far beyond the city where it began.
What started on a handcart at Rewari, and was shaped by the passengers of the Deccan Queen, finally settled into a packet that sits in kitchen cupboards, office drawers and travel bags across the country.
Even today, trains leaving Pune often carry packets of chiwda in bags and boxes, just as they have for decades. The logistics may have changed — with road transport, flights and courier services now playing their part — but the idea is the same: a local flavour using every available route to travel further.
Tracks, Tins and a City’s Flavour
If the railway line from Bombay had never climbed over the ghats to reach Pune, the city might never have become the hub it is. If a young snack vendor at Rewari station had never been forced to leave, he might never have experimented in Pune. If he had not used the Deccan Queen and other trains as his rolling taste lab, the recipe might have stayed a local curiosity.
Instead, the pieces fit together.
Pune’s railway history gave chiwda the tracks it needed. Laxminarayanji’s handcart and courage gave it a beginning. The feedback from compartment conversations gave it polish. Together, they turned a station-side snack into a travelling taste that now opens in homes across India every day, with the simple crackle of a packet and the crunch of that first handful.
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