“Whee! A heritage and food walk… How fancy!” said Taran. They were waiting outside their hotel in Lucknow, which looked like a haveli. The brochure said the place was over 100 years old.
Amma smiled. She looked quite fancy herself in her new pink chikankari kurta. Chikankari was the famous embroidery of Lucknow; white thread in delicate designs of flowers and paisleys over muslin and chiffon cloth.
“Is everything in Lucknow old?” Taran asked.
“Well, Lucknow has a long history. It was a part of the Delhi Sultanate and Mughal dynasty and the capital of the Awadh dynasty. It played a huge role in the First War of Independence. It was known for its opulent nawabs and kebabs, art and culture. So, yes, old is everywhere,” said Appa.
Heritage walk
Their guide arrived. They started at the Gol Darwaza. True to its name, it was door shaped like a semi-circle. Enroute, the guide made them taste Nimish, a sweet from the time of the nawabs. They walked through many by-lanes with grand architecture tucked away. They looked at the buildings: a Unani hospital, similar to an Ayurvedic centre; a traditional housing society called tolas with maze-like interiors; and kothas, once the hub of Kathak and Urdu poetry. Several stores that looked ancient sold ittar, the traditional perfume. One man beckoned Taran and sprayed a perfume on him. “Guess the scent,” he smiled. Taran felt he knew it but couldn’t put his nose on it. The man laughed. “It’s a biriyani smell!”
“That’s brilliant,” laughed Taran. “What else you got?” The shopkeeper had a treasure trove of scents but said his favourite was the one that mimicked the smell of the Earth after the first rains. Taran sniffed at the glass bottle he held out. “It’s my favourite too,” he said, “Amma, may I buy a small bottle?”
Amma nodded. As he packed the ittar, the shopkeeper said, “Cheap and best chikankari, shop ahead. My brother’s.”
“Already bought too many,” said Amma.
“Buy for friends,” he insisted.
They made a beeline for food: tunday kebab, yakhni pulao, basket chaat, sheermal and kulcha nihari. And the sweets: black carrot halwa, phirni and malai makhan.
“I am stuffed,” said Amma. “I think I will go look for some chikankari kurtas.” Amma ambled up to the store the ittar shopkeeper had recommended and was shocked at the prices. “Oh! It is much cheaper here,” she said, crestfallen.
“It’s all right,” said Appa. “Buy for friends.”
Amma laughed. Finally, they headed back to the hotel with bags full of chikankari and bellies equally full.
