Ganjing

Lucknow is the chaotic yet laid back capital of UP the most populous state in India. Stacked up, UP is the fifth largest country in the world. Phew!

Took us forty minutes to fly in from Delhi and two chaotic hours to travel the 15 km stretch to our office in Harzratganj. Wading through the turgid stream of tempos, rickshaws, buses, animal carts and pedestrians moving in all directions at the same time. Apparently BMW was holding the mourning rally for her political mentor Kanshiram. Thats Behan Mayawati. The subdued allegations that she had held him captive for the last few years as she completely took over the party of the lower castes Bahujan did not stop her from making political capital from his death.

In these days of Shoe-bombs, Toothpaste bombs and Hair-gel bombs, at which other international airport in the world would you be able to leisurely stroll across the tarmac to board the aircraft. I really enjoyed the sleepy pace of Lucknow International Airport. And it is an International Airport. Gets a few flights from Sharjah and Nepal. The terminal itself is very basic and has very few people. There are a few shops for the really dumb international tourists. The departure terminal has a restaurant on the first floor with cold, dim, white lighting and a smiling waiter with only tea and coffee to offer. There is also a Pepsi visicooler stuffed with mineral water.

Hazratganj is the Style District of Lucknow. Everyone who is anybody and even those who are nobody come to Hazratganj for everthing. Ganjing is about being in Hazratganj. Like all such terms Ganjing evolved from some young people wanting to create a slang, to get a yuppy feel.

So we also did Ganjing, though staying put inside the safety of our car.

It has a Janpath for really low budget shopping a la Delhi. Its a dark alley really with clothes hanging from shop fronts. From the outside all you can see is a sea of heads bobbing up an down like rain drops falling on a placid lake. So many people. The narrow lane has rickshaws, bicycles and motorbikes weaving in an out. Pedestrians jumping around to save their feet from getting trampled under their wheels.

The women here will mostly have their heads covered with corners of their sarees and a ubiquitous infant on their hips. The bawling baby will have a small pastel coloured towel covering his head from the mid-day heat, riding pillion on a scooter delicately balanced clinging to the husband's waist. It is quite a feat, the modesty as well as the saree will not let them sit astride either.

Then there is a Love Lane. The story goes that during the british days the Whites would come here for a stroll with their girlfriends. The Brits have long gone. The paan stained dilapidated buildings remain. All corners look like they have been the dart board of a spitting contest. The lane is infested with hawkers, beggars, stray dogs and cows. Then there are the real Ganjing enthusiasts, local louts, school drop-outs and other ornithologists. They are there to see and appreciate.

The watering hole is Shukla Chaat opposite Kapoor Hotel. Almost everyone comes here. Girls take a detour while returning home from school or from their tuition classes in the evening and the boys are just there, waiting always. The chatter is intense, excitement brimming over. As the snack is over couples, kind of wander away for a brief moment together before the time to catch the tempo home comes.

The nawabs of Lucknows were real gourmets. Wanted to enjoy the best of mughlai cuisine even after losing all their teeth. Carrying on the tradition of fantastic tradition of indulgent geriatric toothless nawabs and their amazing chefs was Tunda mian. He treated the people to Lucknow to some outstanding Kebabs. He passed away quite some time ago but like all successful ventures, his entire blood line has opened separate kebab outlets. There is one at the very end of Hazratganj too.

All of these Tunda Kebabs, none of them authentic. But then neither are the epicure anymore.

Phir Se

This has been the year of sequels and remakes in India. Krrish, Munnabhai have done really well. Don, Dhoom II, Sholay are eagerly awaited. The promoters of Delhi half-marathon seem have been inspired by these as well. They must be hoping that the promotion campaign will be as successful as the movies.

Phir se, Again. This prosaic line is the fulcrum of the Half-Marathon promotion campaign this year. The exhorting of different areas of the city to run is nice but it is somehow difficlut to relate to Phir Se. Its not as if they only wish to talk to people who ran last year. For them it may be Phir se but for all others its the first time. Still it does not take anything away from the mass movement that the event has now become in Delhi. It is steam-rolling across the city. I heard from friends in Chandigarh who had registered.

My tryst with the half-marathon is upon me. I am still unable to run any longer than I did last year, but I am now able to walk a bit longer. On week-ends I have been going for long walks. Since a month this has become a satisfying twenty in a stretch of three and a half hours.

Noida roads are not made for long-distance walking. If you try this early morning you will need to contend with road sides dotted with endless rows of men sitting patiently like crows. Arms dangling over knees, a PET bottle of water perched next to his foot and a constipated expression on each face. And a stink strong enough to make you walk faster.

In the evenings the roads are owned by buses. The bus drivers think blowing horns is a symbol of virility and that the traffic lights are basically meant to make the roads look festive. In the maddening noise of diesel engines and pressure horns they still find enough lung power to hurl abuses. Thankfully they all drive on the left side of the road. I try to walk on the right so as to make sure I can see the guy who finally runs over me.

The rickshaws must be giving nightmares to guys who make up traffic rules. Noida seems to have more of them than pedestrians. They really do not know which side of the road they should be on. You can see a chattering bevy of punjabi women, carrying basket of vegetables and stuff climb laboriously on to these. The bangladeshi on the rickshaw will then just turn in the direction he wants to go and pedal on. I try my best to keep one eye on the tri-cycles and one on the buses bearing down on me.

I have preferred evenings for my walks, have a small FM radio plugged in my ear to drown the noise. Seem to have survived everyone's attempt to kill me. So far. The stretch on the Toll-bridge is really nice with the setting sun and relatively safer.

And twenty is something worth boasting about!

Gandhigiri

The whole country is singing praises of how Munnabhai has made Gandhi relevant once again. How it has become cool to follow him. Some are sending flowers to liquor vends asking them to shut shop, some others are stripping in public to get work done in govt. offices. It does require courage to do what the hero does in the movie.

Before I begin, let me say that I have been an unabashed fan of MKG since many years. His prophet-like ability to connect with the people of that period, his ascetic approach to life and his being ruthlessly honest with himself have been awe inspiring to say the least. What began as an innocuous off-loading from a first class compartment on Pietermaritzburg train station in 1893 ended up creating a Mahatma to nearly the whole world.

I would like to put forth a contrarian view though. I think what MKG achieved was made possible because of two sets of people the Indian and the Englishmen. The British considered themselves to be running a just and fair empire. They were moralistic, believed in being righteous and played cricket. At the same time they believed in their right to rule India. They suffered from the white man's burden of delivering an inferior race.

They felt challenged that there was someone of an inferior race who could be more of everything. His Satyagrah way of seeking and championing for truth was unique. It showed them in their face that an occupational force could never be morally right. In the new world order freedom from occupiers was a given.

On the other hand were the Indian people. By nature we avoid physical conflict. He gave them an option where they could fight for their right to freedom by not doing anything. Non-cooperation was the mantra. Imagine, you could sit all day at home sing bhajans, not do anything and be actually working to get India free. Easy!

These two mindsets gave the Indian freedom movement the momentum it needed.

I am not sure if this would have worked with the Taliban or with the barbaric gangs of central Africa. Could the balkan ethnic cleansing have been resolved any differently? Could the Vietnamese have done anything different against the napalm attacks? Could India itself have handled the Punjab extremists differently? or can we do anything to fix the Kashmir issue? I have serious doubts. It did not work even then, a million people trans-migrated after India's partition. His influence over the world was at its peak when the world went into the second World War.

Despite the contrarian thought, he remains a star of India's independence movement. He showed the world an alternate path. Whether people follow his principles or not the standards of personal discipline and rectitude are daunting enough even to read through.

I congratulate the the film for the attempt.