In the days gone by, the traditional Puneri Maharashtrian wore it with as much pride as he spoke his chaste Marathi. Sitting pretty on the head, the pagdi had a life of its own. The tilak and the pagdi went hand-in-glove. Something was surely amiss if either was missing.

The fire-brand Bal Gangadhar Tilak looked a true lion when he wore it. He had it placed firmly on his head even in England when he fought the Chirol case. That wizard of mathematics Wrangler R.P. Paranjpepatronised it. Other frontline leaders, Gopal Ganesh Agarkar and Justice Ranade, never crossed their threshold without wearing it.

From its vantage point, the pagdi lets us take a peek into the past and its place in history -- a deep bond with the Marathas and then the Peshwas who wore it during both war and peace times. The original turban transformed into the pagdi. At the Parvati temple, patronised by the Peshwas, paintings of the eight Peshwas show each with a different pagdi.

The tradition was carried forward -- by the Puneri intelligentsia -- till the 1930s when it died a sudden death. Till then, it was the order of the day. The use declined and died when the Swadeshi movement was born. The Gandhi topi caught the public imagination, fired as we Indians were by the Mahatma. Once out of season, the Puneri pagdi sank back into gentle repose only to wake up, once in a while, for the big-wigs.

Walk into many of the crumbling wadas where the old-line families live andframed on the wall will be a photograph of an old-timer sporting a Puneri pagdi. The proud descendants are sure to tell you that a pagdi denoted intellect and knowledge. The man who wore it was expected to know the Vedas. Once they let you in on this, they will drag out an old-fashioned tin box and pull out the famous headgear that these knowledgeable men wore -- kept as much for posterity as for remembrance, a silent proclamation of emotional ownership. Perhaps it is here that the past and the present are more agreeably fused.

Many words and idioms have stemmed from the pagdi. Like pagdi phiravli (to change hats) means to change affiliation and pagadi a sum paid as a non-refundable deposit by a tenant to the landlord. People engaged in the booming business, earlier, were called pagad bandh. But a decline in the use of the headgear saw many go out of business. With them, died a true art.

The pagdi is wrapped layer after layer, 11 in all and the projectionis called a koki. In vibrant colours -- golden yellow, purple, sky-blue, magenta and wine red -- with dangling beads and fancy zari work, it gave the wearer an extra celebrity edge.

Going international, the pagdi travelled with the cast in Ghashiram Kotwal, the internationally-acclaimed Marathi play. Today, only the kirtankars (those who perform kirtans) use the pagdi. A website that provided information on the Puneri pagdis had hardly anyone clicking. For the artiste who takes two days to stitch one pagdi, it is a hopeless situation as the economics of demand are grossly against him. With them will die a tradition. The Puneri pagdi has had its hey-days. It has effectively ceased to exist except in a sentimental sense. But, it remains another passing reminder of the lingering quality of the Pune's history. That's the upshot.