The land of the nawabs was left behind way back in 2000. As an impish 30 years old, Lucknow remained as a fresh
whiff of malai, with the sweetness of its paan, before the hurly
burly of Bombay took over and then other journeys across the country led
to Lucknow slipping further and further away into the recesses of memory
and time.
A providential call perhaps, or simply a wake up one, to
get back to where I once belonged, happened when a press council meeting got me
there. Getting into the city, one felt like the village boy who left and was
returning back, traversing country roads to a town he knew no more. Lucknow was
just that, or at least seemed to be.
There were flyovers and massive roads in place of the
small town ones, huge skyscrapers took over from little
bungalows, the new townships of Gomti Nagar and Mahanagar, had become the
fashionable ‘burbs’. But this was in the night. When morning dawned and the
Uber (yes Lucknow has Uber and Ola and local taxi drivers have not gone and sat
on a dharna before CM Akhilesh Yadav’s residence saying they will be
deprived of business) took this ex-Lucknow journalist to parts of town which
still swim in the mirth and grace of yesteryears, all seemed to be alright.
Hazratgunj, will remain the hub of cacophony which still
fails to hide the grace beneath. As the old coffee shop has turned into Cafe Coffee
Day, Bajpai’s kachori still exists and so does Prakash’s Kulfi shop which
I was told, still does rock. In the old areas of Chowk and Aminabad, nihari
and paya are still served with a respect meted out to family jewels.
The galavati kebab is still made near the Press Club, which we felt then and
feel now is the best in the world. It’s a kebab which melts in a manner in
which the teeth are insignificant and not put too much use. In fact kings and
commoners of Lucknow have mastered their cooking in the manner of their speech
and deportment – soft and melting.
The man with a broken arm (Tunday),
whose deformity became a unique selling proposition sending the kebab he made,
roaring into the sanctum sanctorum of culinary excellence. Over a 100 masalas go into the making of this royal
kebab. And yes, the little shop in the
by-lanes of Aminabad has now become a company called Tunday Kababi Private Limited. As more outlets have opened
all over Lucknow and elsewhere, it is at Aminabad, where it all began, which
has the flavour of the days gone by, and no spices can beat that.
And Wahid Mia and Idris Mia still
make the best Lucknowi biriyanis while Shukla’s matar chat hasn’t been toppled
in any ranking of this genre. The consistency of Lucknow’s street food has been
in direct contrast to the fluctuations and changes of its political landscape.
It was indeed a walk down memory
lane. At Havelock road, now filled with carts and rickshaws, the old home was
found and the family of the old landlord was met. 16 years later, it seemed
like just yesterday. In Lucknow, sweets and cardamom tea seem to be constantly
in the making for it is simply amazing that one can turn up unannounced after
16 years and get the same kind of sweets and tea, in exactly the same manner
within five minutes of arrival.
One spent a few hours one had
sitting on a rickshaw, getting a slightly elevated view of the old city as the
rickshaw man kept asking where I wanted to go. Apparently, “just keep going ” wasn’t
a good answer and yours truly was dropped off in the middle of the road.
It was 24 hours reliving a slice of
life which could have well been permanent if the Goa bug didn’t bite. But
connecting to Lucknow was connecting to the food, the streets and to some
people who will always be special. Adaab Lucknow.
