1970s-80: My Earliest Memories of Lucknow

Playing in the front lawn of my grandfather's house in Mahanagar, Lucknow. I guess I must have been around three years old when this photo was taken

I was born in Lucknow in January 1973. That was half a century ago and compared with what it is now, Lucknow was a very different city back then. Quieter, calmer, less frenzied, with way less traffic and with a more laidback pace of life. The best part, perhaps, was that there weren’t any high-rise apartment complexes back then (at least none that I know of) and even middle-class families lived in row houses. Actual, independent, standalone houses, perhaps with a small garden up front, maybe a small kitchen garden at the back and an open courtyard somewhere where one could sit in the winter afternoons, or summer evenings. Compared with how things are now, most residential areas in Lucknow back in the 1970s and 1980s had relatively much lower population density, which I believe makes a very, very big difference to the living experience.

At the time when I was born, my parents lived in a ‘joint family’ (my grandparents, parents and my father’s brothers and their families) in a large, sprawling house, which my grandfather had built in the 1950s, in Mahanagar. The house was built on a 10,000sq.ft plot of land and there was ample space for children to play. While growing up in that house, my cousins and I would run riot in the backyard and in the front lawns, riding our tricycles, playing hide-and-seek, cricket with a plastic bat and a soft ball, sometimes football and, when it got too hot outside, board games in the large, airy verandah at the back of the house. Also, in my case, reading a lot of comics. Lots and lots of comics. Wherever we went, I pester my father to buy more comics for me. Phantom, Mandrake, Chacha Chaudhary, Fauladi Singh, Amar Chitra Katha, Champak, Chandamama, Lotpot and Tinkle. Later, there were also those Commando comics and Archie’s, both of which I loved. These comics helped me build a fantasy world that existed only in my own mind and I’d happily spend hours lost I in that world.

Apart from board games and comics, there wasn’t really all that much in the way of ‘entertainment’ back then. There was black-and-white TV, and Doordarshan on which you could watch a Hindi movie on Sunday evenings. There was also Chitrahaar once a week on the telly, for Hindi film music. And if you weren't happy with what was being shown on Doordarshan, you could always go to one of the movie theatres, where you could either find the latest Hindi movies or slightly older English ones. Sahu, Mayfair, Novelty and Basant were some of our favourite movie theatres.

Going out to eat usually meant Choley-Bhature or Dosa-Sambar at The Ritz, which was a local restaurant that was in no way related to anything run by the American Ritz-Carlton Hotel company. There was the Shukla Chaat House in Hazratganj, for aloo tikki, dahibade, fried matar and golgappe. There was also King of Chaat for, well, chaat, which was an excellent alternative to Shukla ji. For Indo-Chinese – chowmein, fried rice, chilli-something-or-the-other, manchurian etc – there was Chung Fa in Mahanagar, very close to our house. There was also (now-defunct) Ranjana in Hazratganj, the unique aroma of whose Chinese food I still remember after four decades. Some other names from that time, which I remember, where we used to go out to eat, are Chowdhury Sweet House, Kwality, and Royal Café in Hazratganj, and Netram ki Kachori and Prakash ki Kulfi in Aminabad.

My father enjoyed meeting people and going out, and my parents always had a rich social life. From as far back as I can remember, every weekend (and sometimes, on weekdays as well!) either we went out to somebody’s house for dinner, or we had one or more families coming over to our house for food and drink. In those days, unlike today, people did not hesitate to invite each other to come home – parties at home, get-togethers, picnics – those were all an integral part of my growing up years. I remember some of my father’s friends were very nice to me and my younger sister – sometimes we got chocolates from people who came to our house, and that was a treat we always looked forward to! I also remember the food my mother cooked when we had parties or get-togethers at our home – the aroma of that food remains unforgettable. Matar pulao, dum aloo, stuffed Shimla mirch, rajma, kadhi, tadke wali arhar ki daal, bhune aloo, matar paneer… For dessert there would be homemade kheer, fruit custard or kulfi. And for birthdays, there would always be pineapple cake, which we kids could never get enough of, potato-and-peas cutlets, chhole-puri and dahi-bade.

No Playstation in those days, but I did have my own car, which I was free to drive in the lawns or in the courtyard at the back of the house :-)

My grandfather had an HM Ambassador car that we occasionally used. But most of the time, for getting around the city, it was my father’s Bajaj Chetak scooter, which he bought in 1982. In those days, there used to be an 8-year waiting period if you wanted to buy a new Bajaj scooter (!!!) but you could get around that by paying for the scooter in US dollars. My father’s elder brother happened to have access to foreign currency and he helped my father pay for the Chetak in US dollars, so he did get the scooter immediately. It was his pride and joy and he used the Chetak for around 12-13 years, before selling it and getting a Kinetic Honda in the mid-1990s. In the 1970s-80s, most middle-class families did not have a car and it was not uncommon for people – for entire families of both parents and two children – to get around on scooters. Bajaj, Lambretta, Priya and Vijai Super scooters were popular with ‘family men,’ while the more adventurous/rebellious men rode Jawa or Royal Enfield motorcycles. There were also Rajdoot motorcycles but from what little I can remember now, those were looked down upon and were considered fit only for doodhwalas, who’d go around with their tin cans of milk strapped to the back of their Rajdoot motorcycles.

For those who could afford a car, you could have any car in the world as long as it was either a Premier Padmini (a rebadged Fiat 1100), HM Ambassador (rebadged Morris Oxford) or one of those ancient ‘Jeeps’ that Mahindra used to make in those days. Briefly, there was also the two-door Standard Herald from the mid-1960s, though those were apparently quite rare and I don’t remember seeing too many of those in Lucknow. My father’s friend, a certain Verma ji, had one of those cars and I thought it was very cool indeed! Many years later, Verma ji once came to our house in a new Maruti van and I remember being a bit shocked – how could someone sell the super-cool Herald and buy a van?! But, of course, the Maruti 800 had changed everything when it was launched in India in December 1983 and that Indo-Japanese van must have certainly been a 100 times more reliable than the old Herald, and at least twice as fuel-efficient. Sometimes, I guess ‘progress’ comes with a hefty price tag attached to it.

For those who preferred to take public transport, your choices in Lucknow were restricted to riding in a pedal-powered rickshaw, taking the bus, or riding in a shared three-wheeler that was referred to as a ‘Tempo.’ Definitely not luxurious by any stretch of the imagination, but it would get you to your destination without you having to spend too much money. Like most kids back then, I used to go to school – St. Francis College, near Hazratganj – in a rickshaw when I was very young, and used my bicycle in later years. From our house in Usman Enclave, Aliganj, school was 7km away and I used to feel very happy on my bicycle, pedalling away to glory regardless of the weather. That bicycle – a blue one from some brand called ‘Buke’ (I’m unable to find any details of this today, when I try to Google ‘Buke’) – was pretty basic by the standards of today’s modern bicycles. It had no gears, suspension or disc brakes. But it got me to school and back every day, without fail, and I loved it for that.

Coming back from St. Francis College on my trusty blue 'Buke' bicycle

To read about my memories of my school days in Lucknow, click here