Walking by the side of road, I heard someone greeting me with ‘Aadab’. It was the spectacular memories of Roomi Gate, initiating a conversation with me.
I suppose, this ancient door had tales to narrate. After all, it had witnessed centuries roll over. Quiet overwhelmed, the door continued it’s silent talk.
It took me back into the time when tongas and vintage cars crept on the road with subtle modesty. The time when lush green baghs in it’s surroundings, with their vivid colours, enhanced the charm of the city ride.
The time when women draped themselves in heavy gararas, with antique jewelry complimenting their royal attires and peeped out of the purdah for mere glance of the happenings in the world.
It had witnessed the Nawaabs settle their seat of power in the town. It had witnessed the serenity of the captivating evenings on the banks of river Gomti. It had witnessed the sophisticated and extravagant lifestyles, that inspired art, literature, music and dance.
It stood all these years capturing the glimpses of delicate urdu mushairas, soulful sufi songs, heart winning kathak dances and remarkable architecture of monuments.
I realised, in every walk of life, the city encouraged traditions and culture. It still thrives for the polite way of speaking, mouthwatering mughlai dishes and lavish celebrations. It is well known for it’s chikankari and zardozi works. It has been a birthplace to great artists.
The Lucknawi culture is inspiring with all it’s amazing forms. This is what runs through our veins. This is what flows in the air of this city. This is what we have inherited from our ancestors. This is what we will pass on the world!