Lucknow is a city that’s enveloped in itself. A 400-year-old tradition of style and panache is frozen on the walls of its monuments, but it is still flowing in the hearts of its wonderful people.
When the Mughals lost control of this region, the Nawabs of Avadh took over. Patrons of all forms of art, they were particularly generous when it came to architecture, dance, music and the culinary arts. There’s a curious story regarding the last of these arts. It’s said that one of the last nawabs was extremely fond of kababs. He would have them for breakfast, lunch and dinner. But as he aged, he lost his teeth and couldn’t undertake the rigours of chewing. Feeling bad for the old man, the master chef Haji Murad Ali invented a master recipe of a kabab that doesn’t have to be chewed; it merely melts in your mouth. It’s called Tunday Kebab and is served even today at a traditional restaurant called Tunday Kababi run by the descendants of Murad Ali on Aminabad Road.
The unique sights and smells of Lucknow can best be experienced on this road. Here you will find crowds milling about, and cycle rickshaws deftly slicing them into two without spilling a single drop of blood. Here you will find no general store. Everyone is a specialist. So you have shops that sell only attars, only pickles, only silverware, only chikan work, only zaris, only masalas, or only flowers.
It was outside my hotel that I met a man who stood for all that Lucknow stands for. He was wearing a shirt that had weathered many a summer; yet he had a royal demeanor. He welcomed me with a disarming smile and said, ’Aadab!’ I returned the greeting and was about to walk away when he asked me if he could take me somewhere. I replied that I don’t go by cycle rickshaws as I felt it is a cruel way of transportation. He calmly told me, ’Just change the way you look at it. Don’t see me as an animal pulling a man, but as a man carrying another man on his shoulders in the time of need.’ Looking into the dire need in his eyes, I relented.
For the next two days, he was my charioteer. He decided the places I should see, and he decided my itinerary. The more I saw of him, the more he reminded me of Balraj Sahni, the legendary Indian actor.
Bada Imambara was the grandest of them all. Built by Nawab Asaf-ud-daula in 1784 to provide relief to his subjects during a calamitous famine, it’s a true architectural wonder. Colossal in size, it has a large central hall that is 170 feet long and 50 feet high. The beauty of the construction is that there is not a single pillar supporting this structure and marring the view of this grand spectacle. My charioteer-cum-guide told me the secret of how this structure was made cyclone-proof. Bada Imambara has a network of labyrinths called ’bhoolbhulaiyas’. These are built all along the periphery of the structure. When you enter one such passage, it takes you to four passages: one of them is right, the other three are dead-ends. And every right passage takes you to four more, and so on. Chances of finding the right way here are as high as the sun rising in the west. Open to the outside world through small windows, these passages are actually ’air passages’ that disperse the cyclonic winds when they hit the structure.
Chhota Imambara is more ornate in design. And replete with coloured chandeliers, gilt-edged mirrors and the royal throne of the Nawab. But sadly a misplaced coat of paint had been applied to this structure that had aged so gracefully with time. In the compound you will also find the replica of the Taj Mahal, and an immaculate structure with black and white calligraphy.
The other wayside beauty as Satkhanda, a perennial work in progress. Originally conceived as a 7-storeyed watchtower, the work was stopped half way after four storeys were constructed. Next to it is a red-brick structure that epitomizes the beauty of British architecture: the Husainabad Clock Tower that stands 220 feet tall, and is said to be larger than the famed Westminster Clock Tower.
The Char Baug, along with the Railway Station in Jodhpur and our own Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus in Mumbai, stands among the most beautiful of all railway stations in India. And the Council Hall among the finest government offices anywhere in the world.
The fact that Lucknow is cut off from the rest of the world is so beautifully illustrated in a short story by Premchand. It’s a story about the last Nawab of Avadh, Wajid Ali Shah, playing a battle of chess with his friend when the British were engaged in a battle with his army for taking over Lucknow. While Wajid Ali concentrated on winning on the chess board, his kingdom was taken over by the British and he was summarily exiled to Kolkata. Such were the vagaries of Indian rulers.
After my supper on Aminabad Road I left for my hotel room. And in a matter of seconds a man started running through the overcrowded lanes, brushing aside people and cycle rickshaws, looking for a bearded man with long white hair. When he did find me, he handed over my cellphone that I had forgotten on the restaurant table, and said ’Khuda haafiz’. And with deep gratitude in my heart, I said ’Shukriya’.
And from that moment till I left Lucknow two days later I kept looking for two faces in the crowd: my own Balraj Sahni and the man who returned my mobile. I didn’t find them; and I’m sure I won’t find them again on Facebook or Twitter or LinkedIn. But they will stay with me forever, in the recesses of my heart.
