Anyone who has grown up in and around the Chowk locality of Lucknow is well aware of the Nakhas Bazaar. Sunday/Nakhas Bazaar is not only a weekly market; it is pretty much an identity of the area. With lanes and by-lanes buzzing with people and roadside vendors, the Nakhas bazaar is a one-stop shop for all things ‘sundar-sasta aur tikau’ in the heart of purana Lucknow.
When I was little, my mother being a working woman, would plan her Sundays around the weekly Nakhas bazar visit to tick off her shopping lists. Whether it was about the matching dupattas or the household items, she had fixed places and people of the trade in that Nakhas bazaar.
We would wait eagerly for her return and start turning over shopping bags soon to put things down after coming back. It always got tricky if she wanted one of the three of us (my sisters and I) to accompany her to the market. We would be looking at each other’s faces in anticipation that someone would volunteer before mamma picked out a name herself.
Keeping a track of the packets and struggles of keeping up with her pace, dodging and ducking the never-ending mountains of women and children, such were these visits. For me, the one and only attraction was the food. Lassi at Akbari gate in summers and Malai Makkhan at Gol Darwaza in winters were my trade items, and obviously, mamma was more than willing to oblige.
Years have passed, I don’t remember the last time I went to the Nakhas Bazar, especially since 2013, when I moved out of the city. Occasional home visits then mostly meant staying indoors and catching up with the family. However, this is not to say that I didn’t cross the market all this while. Every time I took that route and looked over the market stretch, it somehow felt reassuring that my childhood was intact somewhere in that buzz. In all these years, even amidst the quickly changing landscapes in the city, Nakhas market has always looked the same. Until today.
Due to the imposition of Section 144 in the city, the market was obviously an unusual business. In the wake of the restricted public assembly, just a handful of vendors showed up. Somehow the street lights on the road weren’t working either. Everything screamed abnormal. For the first time on a market day, I could accelerate my two-wheeler over a speed of 30 km/hr to get home in no time.
Despite the roads being clear, the distance seemed the longest. Another childhood memory was scarred in the city that has widespread stories of peaceful coexistence—a city that never made me stop and think about my identity growing up. And here I am, being cautioned at every step I take outside my house; to be careful of how I look or talk—because suddenly, I am being made an outsider in my own home.
The leisure hate games that seem to be our government’s full-time occupation will not determine my becoming or unbecoming a citizen of my country. In the end, the implementation of CAA+NRC may or may not alienate me with my land, and that will be true for a lot of people. However, it definitely is alienating me from people, places, culture, and emotions and relationships that I identified with over the years.
And nobody, NOBODY deserves that loss.