When Madhavi Kuckreja moved to Lucknow from Karvi, a religious town in Bundelkhand, in 2004, she wanted to experience first-hand the immense cultural wealth of the Uttar Pradesh capital she had heard so much about, especially its array of handmade crafts.
But as she began to explore the city , she was left a little disappointed. She felt the city lacked a navigator, an instrument that connected the dots and showcased its culturally rich places and traditions. The cultural space felt stagnant: the programmes were mostly controlled by the State and the entire history of crafts was locked up in people’s sandooks (trunks), says Kuckreja.
“And there was so much to the city,” she recalls. “We explored the traditions of Muharram. And I found a very strange thing: for instance, how Basant used to be celebrated, but not any longer. People would tell us qissas (anecdotes) about traditions that endure. But not all of this was accessible, especially to the regular visitor.”
Rich diversity
Kuckreja then decided to introduce people to the cultural layers of Lucknow, and 13 years ago opened a crafts bazaar to showcase handicrafts the city was so famous for. Then was born the idea of the Mahindra Sanatkada Lucknow Festival, an annual cultural festival that showcases Awadh and Lucknow, its array of crafts, cuisine, art, tales, literary discourse and much more. Today, Sanatkada, meaning the ‘house of craft’, offers a glimpse into the rich diversity of culture and art in Awadh.
“I don’t know the ‘voila’ moment but we realised that [the festival should be] like a traditional mela (fair), and something the people can own and be involved with,” says Kuckreja, who is CEO of Sanatkada. The century-old Budakki ka Mela on the banks of River Gomti, was a model she wanted to emulate. “Everyone wants to eat, maro adda (gossip), dress up, watch a performance, shop, hear kahanis (stories) — and we knew that qissa goi (storytelling) would happen under the trees here,” she says.
So is she now the navigator for the city? “Yes. In a way. I was like the khoj (scout),” she replies.
The venues of the Sanatkada have been the Safed Baradari and the Salempur House in Lucknow, chosen as much for their proximity to the heart of the city as for their historicity and architectural splendour. The themes are based both on the pluralistic and inclusive traditions as well as the lesser-known thrills of the city: shama (candle), Basant, pehnava (clothes), bazaars, feminists of Awadh, Filmi duniya mein Awadh (Awadh in the world of cinema), Lucknow ki rachi basi tehzeeb (Lucknow’s composite culture) that breaks the Hindu-Muslim binary myth by showcasing Parsi, Chinese and Bengali traditions) and Francisi Awadhi ta'alluqaat (Awadh’s French connection).
This year, the festival theme was Awadh ke qasbati rang , the life and culture of the provincial Awadh, beyond Lucknow. If husn-e-karigari (the beauty of artisanship) showcases the crafts of the general folk, reha’ish (abode) is about affluence: bade logo ke bade ghar (the big homes of big people), as Kuckreja puts it. The nankhatai wala, barf ka gola wala (ice candy) and the sikke wala (coin seller) have been part of the festival from the days of the crafts bazaar Kuckreja launched.
The outsider
Kuckreja takes pride in the taur-tarike (manners and modalities), lihaaz (consideration) and the bariki (detailing) while looking at Awadh, be it food, embroidery or etiquette. Kuckreja has played a role in taking Lucknow beyond popular perceptions, pulling out visitors from the tourist circuit hovering around the Imambara and Nawabs, and exposing them to the people’s cultural roots and contemporary realities.“The myth we broke was that Lucknow was just about Nawabs and kababs,” she says.
While she jokingly admits that she continues to battle the outsider tag, ‘the Punjaban in Lucknow’, she nonetheless feels rooted in Lucknow, a city to which she is deeply linked through the feminist and cultural movements. “I mean, my tallaffuz (pronunciation) is always wrong. My adaabs are right and wrong and sometimes I get the jeete raho (a blessing) right. But the thing is, I feel rooted. I feel like I know more about the gali kochis (nooks and corners).” But what does it mean to be rooted? Kuckreja has a simple answer: rishtas or relationships, the inter-personal links she draws with everyday people. It could be the gali (street) rickshaw wala, who will ask where I want to go, she says.
In Lucknow, she also encountered the famed Ganga Jamuni tehzeeb but found that communal identities co-existed with traces of this syncretic culture. “I had heard a lot about the Ganga Jamuni tehzeeb . But when I came to the city in 2004, it had become very superficial. I could see a lot of polarisation,” she recalls.
For instance, she has been told she has ‘too many Muslims’ in her office. But then there is also this other side, stories of co-existence. In old Lucknow’s Chowk area, she observed that both Hindus and Muslims celebrate Dussehra and Muharram by leading elephants and horses in processions in a very similar fashion.
Then there is Rudauli, the town near Faizabad where a certain Gupta once performed nohas, the Shia lament during Muharram, and the Hindus of the entire village would wear green and peacock feathers and hold a parikrama (circumambulation) for Ali. Then one day Gupta could not find a page of his noha; he eventually discovered it hidden in his copy of the Gita . “That is also a reality, as is the polarisation,” says Kuckreja .
Over the years, lit fests have proliferated in many cities, pulling in corporate sponsorships and popular authors. The Mahindra Sanatkada Lucknow Festival is dedicated to industrialist Anand Mahindra’s mother, who was from Lucknow. An emotional connect is important for any lit fest, or else it gets reduced to just another event, Kuckreja says, but adds quickly that she is not an event organiser. “I’m a social cultural activist,” she says.
omar.rashid@thehindu.co.in
