Amitabh Shukla
Lucknow has changed and keeps changing
like all other cities but the basic character, linguistic uniqueness and
cuisine along with its famous tehjeeb remains
an integral part of the Uttar Pradesh Capital
Travelling
by train invariably has a charm and attraction associated with it, the larger
picture being a laidback journey and the beginning of an unwinding exercise. I
always look forward to a leisurely train journey in which you can slip into
slippers and shorts, pull out the snacks or home cooked food from the upper
layer of the backpack, put your phone in the charging sockets, drink the
occasional khaki water which often passes off as tea, put one foot over the
other and relax looking outside the sealed window.
This
train journey was necessitated due to a cousin’s wedding in Lucknow, the city
of the Nawabas and where the “pehle aap” (you first) culture is the
legend of folklore, instead of “me first” as is believed to be the norm
everywhere. I got a hint of this later while de-boarding the train at Lucknow
station where my co-passenger, insisted that I get down first and I insisted he
gets down first. He prevailed and I got down.
Anyway,
boarding a night train from Chandigarh to the Capital of Uttar Pradesh was
eventless and so was easing into the AC compartment and catching a sleep,
hoping to be in Lucknow by the time I woke up in the morning. That was not to
be. The train was late by 3 hours as I checked the mobile app for updates early
in the morning. “You are spending an extra three hours in the comfort of AC in
the same price of the ticket,” a fellow passenger, who appeared to be a marketing
professional as his phone conversations suggested, told me, when I informed him
about the status of the train. “Was I amused?” No, for sure.
Just
before Lucknow, the Capital of erstwhile royalty of Awadh, the train made an
unscheduled stoppage at Kakori, a small station which is a part of the legend
of revolutionaries who fought for the freedom of the country. As I came near
the coach door, I could see a red signal at some distance and got down at the
station, hoping to run and catch the train again when the signal turned green. It
was here at this station that one evening on August 9, 1925, the
revolutionaries led by Ramprasad Bismil stopped a local train and looted the
money which the guard was carrying to finance their struggle against
colonialism in the country. The plaque
which has been put up at the station says that revolutionaries boarded the
Saharanpur passenger from this station. The moment, the train started from
Kakori, Bismil pulled the chain which stopped it a little ahead of the station.
Chandra Shekhar Azad, Asfaqullah Khan, Rajendra Nath were in this train,
besides others. One person was inadvertently killed in the incident. “They took
the government money in their custody and challenged the British empire by this
act,” the plaque at the station said.
History
books have it that in the Kakori trial, which assumed nationwide importance and
caught the attention of the entire country, Ram Prasad Bismil, Thakur Roshan
Singh, Rajendra Nath Lahiri and Ashfaqullah Khan were sentenced to death and later
hanged. Some of them were sent to Cellular Jail in Port Blair in punishment then
called Kala Paani. Chandra Shekhar
Azad, who was never caught, shot himself dead in Alfred Park Allahabad, now
known after his name when he was cornered by the British a few years later. “Kakori
was a landmark in Indian freedom struggle as it catapulted national
consciousness and gave a definite direction to the movement for overthrow of
the British regime,” historians have a consensus on this.
After
a stoppage of half an hour or so, the signal turned green and the train started
moving again and I caught it after surveying the station, people and the disinterested
railway officials, who were hardly aware of the event. The Kakori memorial, in
memory of the revolutionaries, has been built close to the station and you can
see it from the train window if it is moving at a slow pace.
Soon,
the train entered the outskirts of Lucknow and then the crowded station itself.
I could see a big crowd at the platform through the window. As co passengers
collected their luggage and moved towards the exit doors, I waited for a while
before exiting where I came face to face with the tehjeeb (cultural and behavioral norms) of the city where a
co-passenger, the marketing professional who had asked me about the train
timing earlier, asked me to get down first. We couldn’t get introduced to each
other but smiled as we headed for the exit.
This
was my second visit to the city, the first being almost a decade and a half
back and that too only for an evening. So practically, it was my first visit as
I had seen nothing then, except the airport, transfer to a hotel and then
catching a morning flight back to Delhi.
Courtesy
a friend placed in a high position in Uttar Pradesh government, a vehicle was
sent to fetch me from the station to the government guest house where my
lodging arrangements had been made. “I have been waiting for the last four
hours, train services are so unreliable these days,” said driver Sarfaraj
Ahmed, who had been sent to receive me at the station. “Yes,” I nodded in
agreement, as the government driver from the Rajya Sampati Vibhag (government property department) of Uttar
Pradesh helped me with the backpack. The number plate of the vehicle in Hindi
script too had the name of the department engrossed boldly in Hindi so that the
cops do not stop a government vehicle even if it violates traffic rules.
Strangely,
it was named VVIP guest house and was indeed located in an area close to the
place where who and who of UP resided—Governor, chief minister, former chief
ministers, present ministers and Judges. For the first time I realized the
limitations of the bureaucracy and the netas
as they had failed to name a guest house properly. They could have named it after
one of the greats from the state which has given most of the Prime Ministers to
the country. Curious about the name, I enquired about it from the reception and
was told that it was actually called Ati
Vishist Athithi Griha and nothing else and its English translation Board
too was put up proclaiming it to be a “VVIP Guest House”. Anyways, it was a two
room well maintained and comfortable suite with a drawing room, bed room and it
also had a small office table with chairs separately in a corner.
Getting
to the wedding venue of my cousin Aditya in the evening was easy as it was in a
five-star hotel and the driver knew the entire city like the back of his hand. Now,
there is a striking similarity in weddings all over north India, be it Punjab, Haryana,
Himachal, Delhi, UP, MP or Bihar. There are hardly any regional differences
when it comes to playing the DJ, hiring a band, lighting arrangements, dancing
to the same tunes time and again and then the food which is becoming common in
all weddings despite geographical differences.
Here
also, the baraat or the groom’s
wedding party came from their home in vehicles and stopped 50 meters from the
wedding venue, the lawns of the hotel. Heavily dressed men and women assembled,
some of them poured perfumes on themselves, saw one last time in the mirror
which they had brought in from their homes and then the moving DJ started
playing the typical wedding songs. And it was dance all the way for the 50
metres to the venue of the wedding. No one for sure had danced anywhere except
in weddings of relatives. But here, they were up to it—freestyle dancing, no
rhythm or synchronized movements but hands and feet were moving in all
directions.
Usual
video making exercise and still photo shoots, ritually going up the stage and
pose for the photo, waiters forcing snacks and drinks at you—all the rituals
you associate with an Indian wedding was there. You could simply sit there and
close your eyes. If you have been to one north Indian wedding, you need not go
to any other. It has become so standardized that it is the same everywhere,
right from clothes, food, dance, rituals and what not. Only the faces change,
nothing else. But I still remember the stuffed Tikki and the Chaat,
exceptionally well made, the only items I had for the wedding dinner, besides
some fruits.
I
always prefer morning walks in a new place to explore the area, feel its pulse
and vibration, talk to the people to understand and assimilate the accent and
their thought process and also to rejuvenate myself for the day. So, there I
was, at 6 am sharp, clad in sneakers T-shirt and track pant, I was on the
deserted street. I passed through the road in front of the massive Raj Bhawan
where the Governor lives and was in a park near the colonial building of the
General Post Office. The architecture of GPO, an imposing colonial structure in
White colour is indeed impressive. It was built in the 1920s and used for various
forms of entertainment by the British even as entry of Indians was banned here
in those days. Now, the residents of Lucknow use it for postal services. The
outer façade had been well maintained and prima facie suggested of a glorious
heritage. The trial of the famous Kakori conspiracy case, which I mentioned
earlier, took place here apparently due to security reasons. I took a round in
the park near it, had a look at the GPO Clock Tower located here and recreate
the past in my mind.
Then,
I moved towards the Christ Church, the gates of which were closed at this time
of the morning. Initially built in 1810 with additions later on, in the Gothic
style of architecture, the style used in most of the European churches, it has
a great history of its own and has braved many a storm in the last two
centuries of its existence. It houses so many things now—cemetery, educational
institution and also a Church and is witness to the evolution of the British
empire in Awadh, ruled by the Nawabs
before the colonial power came to the region and annexed it in 1856.
Next
door is Hazratganj, the market initially built by the Nawabs of Awadh and later
by the British in their own style and taste. Now, construction of a Metro is on
and it has disrupted the normal movement of traffic and business, but still the
signage having the same black and white pattern, the rejuvenated colonial style
street furniture and railings, added an old world charm to the place.
I
got into a by-lane of Hazratganj and found a tea stall which seemed to be
popular given the number of people wanting to have their morning sip here. I
looked for its name but it did not have any but was frequented by the
proletariat—from rickshaw pullers to sadhus to small shopkeepers of the area as
it still sells good tea for only Rs 7 a glass.
“Once
the Metro is built, business for all would increase,” said Raju, the teenager
with the hint of a beard and moustache, who was collecting cash. A middle aged
man, perhaps his father, was boiling tea in a big vessel and continuously kept
it on the boil in a low flame. Whenever, a customer ordered tea, he simply
dipped his small steel container with a long handle, brought out the required
quantity, poured it in a glass and passed it over. He did not reveal his
business details and turnover when I asked how many glasses of tea he sold in a
day. “Bas, guzara ho jaata hai”
(somehow I manage), he said, and got busy in his work. There was a certain
pattern in which he carried out his work, you could see a rhythm and he seemed
to be enjoying what he was doing. Decent taste of the tea with the right amount
of tea-leaves, sugar, milk and perfect boil coupled with flavor of cardamom, suggested
that he indeed was doing a good job.
Summer
afternoons in Lucknow could be hot, forcing you either indoors or in one of the
malls which now form an integral part of the city skyline. Being outdoors even
though it’s a mall, is better any day than staring at the TV screen in your
guest house room. So, there I was, at one of the malls of the city. Malls are
gradually become one place in the country where everything looks similar
whether you are in Delhi, Lucknow, Kochi, Kolkata or Mumbai. The outer facade of
the malls could be different, but from inside, they are all more or less
similar. They could be bigger or smaller in size, but you will find the same
brand shops everywhere, same pattern of interior design, escalators, elevators,
multiplexes and of course the food court. And yes, the only place which
differentiates one mall from the other is the food court to some extent. Here,
if you are lucky, you may find some local cuisine, different from the fast food
outlets of the multinationals which have cropped up everywhere.
I
found myself drawn towards the food court and there I saw the outlet of famous
Tunday Kababi of Lucknow. Every foodie must have heard of the kababs of the
outlet which claims to have served the Nawabs of Awadh for generations. I
checked the menu, boldly painted inside the outlet as aroma of the Kababs being
grilled and prepared invaded my nostrils. The signature mutton snack of the
franchise—Galawati Kabab—was there, boldly painted on the menu list besides a
lot of other typical food from Lucknow. “Start with Galawati Kabab, this is a
bestseller,” the counter in-charge advised me, when I took a little longer to
settle in with the dishes which I wanted. “How is Shammi Kabab?” I asked. “Of
course, it is good but we use a lot of pulses to mix it with minced mutton so
try it only after Galawati,” he advised again.
I
ordered Galawati Kabab, which simply melted in the mouth leaving a strong
flavor and taste. One after the other, I
kept having that till I had a fill and my stomach had no space for any more.
There were four in a plate and I had ordered two plates. “How was that?” the
middle aged counter manager with gutka stained teeth, asked me after I had
finished. “Why don’t you open an outlet in Chandigarh,” I questioned back, even
offering to help him find a rented space. He smiled, showing his gutka stained
teeth again and said, “I will talk to the owners”.
I
didn’t have any space left to try any other dish, promising myself that I will
be back again next day before catching my evening train back to Chandigarh. As the legend goes, Galawati Kabab was
invented by Tunday Kababi after the then Nawab almost two centuries ago lost
his teeth in old age and could no longer chew and eat traditional mutton
dishes. The Nawab could simply slip in the Galawati Kabab which melts in the
mouth and you do not require any chewing and teeth for it.
Stomach
filed with Galawati, I moved towards the customary visit to the places for
which the city is known—Imambara, Bhul Bhulaiyya and Chhota Imambara—all
imposing architectural structures, having a glorious history and they were full
of tourists as well as locals. The setting sun in the backdrop of the minarets
gave a perfect adieu to the evening and I captured that in my lens.
The
last tourist itinerary of the day was the modern day architectural
marvel—Ambedkar Park, built by Bahujan Samaj Party when Mayawati was the chief
minister. All the icons who, have worked and fought for Social Justice, have
been represented here in a beautifully landscaped and crafted stone structures
in the heart of the city, Gomti Nagar. Long time residents told me that it has
become a must in the itinerary of those visiting the city now. I also visited
the Gomti riverfront, inspired by several other riverfronts of the world,
including the Sabarmati riverfront in Ahmedabad. It is a poor replica of those
and there were hardly any visitors. What made matters worse was the neglect of
the project, even if it’s a good one, of one government by the succeeding one.
“The state has seen governments change every election on the last three
occasions and what is dear to one is clearly an anathema to the other,” said,
driver Sarfaraj.
My
bureaucrat friend, who had facilitated my stay with the guest house booking and
a car, came in the evening to pick me up for dinner in a five-star hotel. We
had a great time discussing the good old days in Delhi and Chandigarh. Food in
five-star hotels, particularly the Buffet variety is always welcome as you can
taste an item, discard it and move to the next one. Invariably you do find one
or two items which are nicely prepared and then concentrate on it. I found prawns
and Awadhi Biriyani exceptionally well made and that was what I concentrated on
after trial and error—tasting and discarding half a dozen other items.
Next
day, I was in the local markets again. In
a lighter vein, I was told by locals that Lucknow is famous for two
items—Chikan and Chicken—one for fashion and the other for culinary delight.
But gradually, in a globalised world, it seems people are looking for
uniformity in fashion which the multinational and the Indian brands offer. I didn’t
find anyone wearing Chikan kurtas or salwar suits in the malls I visited. “Have
the youngsters abandoned Chikan?”.
“No
Sir, Chikan clothes are a rage all over the world. Our orders come not only
from abroad but all over India. We sell online too through the popular shopping
apps,” said Sameer Khan, a seller in the popular Chowk area of the city. The
price varied as per the work done on the apparel. “These days, you even get
fake Chikan in which the work is done by machines and not supple hands,” Sameer
informed, handing out the real Chikan apparel.
Chowk
is a crowded area of the city, part of its heritage and culture, dating back to
centuries. Here, you could find the tahjeeb
of the city—at least I din’t find anyone quarreling during my short stay in
which I bought the customary souvenir from the city—Chikan Kurta—which I will
wear in the next wedding where I am invited. Chowk is full of whatever you need
but hot weather and little place to move in the market on foot forces you on
the back foot within an hour. But it was a pleasure just window shopping and
soaking in the atmosphere. The city has a typical language and sophistication
and the accent of speaking Hindi was entirely different from eastern part of
the state or its western part.
Evening
was again reserved for exploring the culinary delight of the city and the
driver guided me to the Tunday Kababi in Aminabad, old city. The outlet is
quite popular despite the number of outlets they have opened in other parts of
the city now. There could be nothing but another round of Galawati Kabab and
some Biriyani, topped with freshly cut onion and chutney. It was as good as it
possibly could be. Creamy Awadhi kheer was ordered for dessert and there it
was—my culinary expedition to the city was complete so was my trip. I soon
headed to the station, shook hands with driver Sarfaraj, thanked him for being
a good host and boarded my train back to Chandigarh. (June 4, 2018)
