TAMING OF THE SHREW

"Taming of the shrew."

No, we are not discussing shakespeare here. No Andrew Bradley quotes either. There is nothing academic infact.

The focus is on an aggressive rat-type creature called  shrew. To be precise it is the Asian shrew. This species (of shrew) is called chuchunder (छछूंदर) in India and is mentioned in Rudyard Kipling's Jungle Book, as a nocturnal inhabitant of houses.

We were living a perfectly peaceful P.G.Wodehouse type life  when one fine morning I found that the telephone cord from the wall to the our telephone instrument

  had been badly chewed. In the following days tell tale signs of other things ravaged came to notice - a curtain, a shoe, a rubber hose. Then one day as I sat on an easy chair next to the telephone  watching a  crow outside on the compound wall pecking at something, I caught the movement of a shrew scampering on the floor along the wall as it prepared to go back to whatever place he lived after his reconoissance mission in the house.

"Hello shrew " I whispered, turning my attention from the crow to the shrew.

A shrew has very sharp hearing power.

He stopped and turned back and tried to locate the source of the sound that greeted him. I tapped with the walking stick close to him so that he would go away  but he attacked the stick violently. Good God, here was a combatant. I was taken aback. I am a non violent person.

As I neither moved nor made any further sound,  he turned back and quietly went out of the room.

I called an urgent meeting of all the stake holders. We decided  to use a non violent  rat trap - a wooden box that slapped shut as soon as a rat entered the box and pulled at the bait.

We set the rat trap near the door and went to sleep. Sometime during the night the shrew was imprisioned in the rat trap.

" I will take the trap in my scooter and open it far away from our house " I declared.

" This chap will come back " was the rejoinder.

That was indeed a possibility. Then someone gave a brilliant suggestion.

"Why not bathe it in a bright colour. If we see a coloured shrew  we will know that he has  come back. "

I had a few bright water colours and I gave the shrew a liberal bath in bright yellow colour as he jumped and squeaked.I kept the trap in the sun to dry. The poor chap would otherwise catch cold.

My fun loving brother-in-law was with us on a visit from USA. He said he would accompany me to watch the shrew-liberation-show.

We scootered a good distance and came to the cantonment area where it was quiet. I saw a Colonel's house across the road on the right where a uniformed guard stood at the gate.

My brother-in-law suggested that it was a good place to set the chap free as there was an open field on the left. We expected the shrew to scurry into the shrubs in the open field.

The shrew had different plans. He crossed the road as we set him free , collided at the gate of  colonel's house with the guard's boots and then rushed  along the driveway into the  house. The guard noticed him and ran after him, his shoes making much noise.

The colonel came out.

" what is all this noise ? " he enquired .

" Sir a bright yellow shrew has entered the house."

" Did you say bright yellow?"

" yes sir. A bright yellow shrew"

" Did you, by any chance,  have a morning dose of rum, just a little?"

" No sir. Definetly not sir"

There was a bemused expression on colonel's face as he  went back into the house.

Mission accomplished we came back home.

I waited and waited for the yellow shrew for a long time but he never came back.

May be, he  preferred army life in cantonment to the mundane life in the house of a civilian! After all he was a combatant !

***

THE GOOD OLD DAYS

"GOOD  OLD  DAYS"

HARAKIRI  is the name of this new game,
and we all, without any exception,  play,  the same.

We have abandoned glass and have adopted plastic,
It is a incedious material but to it we now stick.

Coir, wool rubber and cotton are no longer in furnishings,
we have embraced poisonous polyurethane in pillows, mattings.

milk we do drink but with a new thing mixed,
Yes it is OXYTOCIN  with which the cows are fixed.

We are now increasingly open to radiation's pernicious fog,
exposure to mobile towers, TVs , smartphones do the job.

In the past our food was entirely natural
it is now full of so many chemicals.

There seems no turning back, we are caught in a vice,
Those days are over when life used to be nice.

***

THE WHITE HORSE

"The white horse"

GS, as we called him, was getting  married.

When his marriage date drew close he  started getting  nervous.

GHUR CHARHI (riding a horse) was an essential  part of the ceremony and he was ill prepared for it. He  dreaded   the very idea of  riding a horse . The question was : how to avoid it !

He had never in his life played any outdoor games.  He never ever did any cycling. Riding a horse was simply unthinkable and yet now seemed so unavoidable.

The marriage was in the town of  Unnao, an hour's drive from lucknow. A friend of ours offered to take me to Unnao in his  car.

Our car gave some hiccups on the way. we  reached  there a bit late in the evening,  just in time as the bridegroom's  barat had already started moving out for the bride's house. I

When we arrived, GS was busy pleading with his elders if he could cover the distance to the  bride's place  in the  ceremonial car, skipping the mandatory horse riding. They were horrified.

"No no , how can you " they said shaking there elderly heads of wisdom,  "it is a part of the ceremony.  you cannot skip it.. you have to cover this distance to the bride's house on the horse.".

The white horse was standing there, fluttering his ears, as if  listening intently to this conversation on the general issue concerning him..And the horse was  apparently getting agitated by this crass talk. He was a healthy white horse  not used to stupid discussions by timid riders. 

GS was eventually escorted to the horse, lifted up and deposited on the  horse back. He clumsily sat on it, fearing an impending disaster.  The horse twitched his nostrils,  to assess  the rider. A horse is a very sensitive animal and he doesn't like inept riders.

whlle GS was still trying to grapple with the reins and ackwardly shifting his position,  the horse took a major decision. He suddenly neighed loudly, fluttered his ears, turned around and bolted in the opposite direction away from the bride's place, carrying his hysterical baggage.

There was a mighty uproar. People gave out  shouts and started running after the horse. There was a whole lot of people  chasing it..

we also turned the car and followed the horse down the street.

It was like a scene straight out of  a comic hollywood film
like "Fransis the talking mule"    From our car we could see GS in a crisis situation. He had. now grabbed the horse's  neck,  lyiing flat on his stomach  on the horse's back and shouting for help.

The horse was moving   fast and the frantic cries of GS were heard  all along the road. People stopped and  watched in dismay. The horse was trying to throw GS off his back but  he managed to stick and cling to it, albeit precariously. Somewhere on the way, in this struggle,  he lost his new nagaraa  ceremonial slippers.

Obstructive traffic  on the road made the horse slow down  after a distance and some dare devil  in the lane managed to grab the reins and stop the horse.   GS now slid down the horse back and landed on the road. He hurriedly crawled to the pavement.

GS  was now thoroughly shaken  with fear  as he squatted on the pavement. His family members and friends arrived and took control of the situation.

0urs was the only car available at the spot. So they decided to use it for the grooms journey to the venue of marriage..  It got decorated with a few flowers. It was done  in hurry.  GS was transferred  to the car.  Another person occupied the seat at tbe back with him,  trying to restore the dress, the headgear, the face, the shoes of the bridegroom.

GS was repeatedly muttering "Maine pahle hee kahaa thaa " (I had told this in advance).

The rest of the ceremony was all smooth and without any incident except that GS constantly kept muttering " maine pahle hi kahaa tha" during the entire ceremony !

After this event GS decided to bycott horses. So he stopped using horse drawn tongas .

It is said that years later, while unwrapping a gift from a friend in  Britain he screamed . When his family members rushed to the room they found him staring at the unwrapled whisky bottle.

It was the famous British scotch whisky -  WHITE HORSE !!

***

"Then and now"

THEN  AND  NOW

There  was a time when there were no #BallPens.

There used to be #FountainPens. And these were expensive. Those who could afford it bought #Watermans, #Parker or #sheaffers. Others settled for the much cheaper locally manufactured pens pens costing Rs 5/- of the fifties (over Rs 500 in today's value) .

All school desks had #inkwells on the right hand top corner. These were used for the other pen - the holder pen- that had to be contantly dipped in ink pot for writing. For these cheap holder pens one had to regulàrly buy nibs. The most popular nib was the pink coloured #Geenib  made of pure copper.

Schools had three types of students. The studious, the michivious and the 'none of the above'. The mischief mongers provided entertainment in the class such as wrapping up frogs in the cloth duster (meant for cleaning black board), fixíng ball pins (आल पिन), with sharp point upwards, on teacher's chair or bringing a street dog inside the class room.

Teacher were creative. They found new ways of punishing the students. But the most popular ageless punishment was making a #MURGA of the student.

We are in a different world now . No holder pens, no fountain pens, no Murga.

***



Fast Food

Fast food

He arrived at his assigned spot in the market carrying a big bundle on a brass tray on his head and  a wicker stand under an arm. Then he  placed the wicker stand on the footpath and the brass tray on top of it.

 this brass plate he arranged an assortment of eatables. There  was a heap of fried corn too

I had been waiting for his spicy fried corns. He used to come in the afternoon and remain till shops closed .

He proceeded to attend to me. On a large leaf he placed half a cup  of fried whole corn and mixed it with a few masala powders and pastes . Then he squeezed a few drops of lemon over it and handed me this garlic flavoured concoction. It was inexpensive and quite tasty.

That was one of the fast foods of my childhood days. There was no maggi or burger or pizza then. Peanuts,  Roasted chana , puffed rice Laiya or fried or roasted desi pop corn called makki were popular with roadside venders. Some of them sold pani Puri (golgappas) too. 

Fast food joints, loaded with chemically treated food, have since cut into the livelihood of those poor venders. . . . . In the west too the traditional local food is getting threatened by the growing popularity of the likes of KFC and Mcdonalds.

PLASTIC POISONING

"Plastic Poisoning"

We are in an age of synthetics  now. Clothes are  made of chemicals. Bottles, crockery and cutlery  are  made of chemicals which are progressively replacing glass and steel. Food products are packed in plastics. what we eat has chemical flavours, chemical preservatives, chemical taste enhancers ! Furniture is being made of plastics. Most of the electrícal appliances have lot of plastic in them and so have vehicles.

Yes. Plastics are slowly poisoning the planet and its inhabitants.

Life was quite different not very far back. Cotton was then not a rich man's fabrics as it is now. Food was all natural without a trace of pesticides or fertilisers.  Milk and sweets were adulterated with edible cheaper sustitutes and not urea and detergents. The word "organic" was coined later when the poison of chemicals got into food stuff. Packing material was cardboard or wood.

It was a differnt society then. We don't anymore see a traditional Dhobi (washerman) with his donkey. He used to visit houses, his donkey carrying both washed and dirty cotton  clothes.  Most of the clothes in a household  were then washed, starched and ironed by the dhobi. Detergents for home washing  came later.  That was the time when Lalitaji ads took the advertising world by storm flooding the media with motivational message for home washing of clothes. The detergent revolution made dhobi obsolete. Donkeys disappeared and detergent appeared. All the detergent ultimately getting washed down into rivers, polluting them wuth chemicals

All sorts of dreaded diseases are gaining epidemic proportion. We have to stop the use of plastics to save us from disaster. France has already banned plastics totally - from carry bags to crockery and furniture. Other countries are also in the process of banning the use of plastics. It appears to be an almost impossible task in India where people have come to totally depend on plastics.. A Wake Up call is necessary to build public opinion, to galvanise the government.

***

The Flood

The flood

The city was Lucknow. The year was1971. It was monsoon time.

It had been ominously raining for days on end.

Water level in river Gomti had been rising rapidly and alarmingly for sometime. An embankment was protecting the low lying area of the city in the east.

One morning the enbankment could not withstand the onslaught of river  and breached in the area of the Butler Palace colony. The river rapidly spread over  the low lying areas . Panic spread as waters came surging in to inundate  houses and roads.

At the moment when a portion of the embankment gave way, a jeep was moving towards it in Butler palace area. The driver saw the water rushing towards the jeep  and  had barely the time  to reverse and race away from the approaching flood waters. "It was  race against time. We saw a high wall of water chasing us as we managed to escape" said an occupant of the jeep later.

In the nearby Butler palace officers colony a father was taking a bath when his children shouted him to come out. He wrapped a towel and came out to find water rising everywhere. He had no time to dress up. In his towel he rushed up to the upper flat as the ground floor was rapidly  inundated.  All the ground floor  occupants had to shift to first floor flats to save life. 

Authorities swung into action. Army evacuation boats came to the first floor flats of Butler Palace colony and elsewhere to move the occupants to safer places.

I had arrived from Allahabad the  day after the floods and was staying in a safe locality near clay square colony. I set out to see the havoc brought by floods 

The low lying areas in Hazratgunj and beyond were now under water.At Hazratgunj crossing

near the Allahabad bank the road was under water but the pavement at the corner shop of Benbows was  dry.

I sat in Benbows for sometime, sipping tea and eating buttered toasts. I could get the view of the entire area outside from here. The low lying area of Narhi was now under deeper waters. There was lot of water on the road to GPO too.

I paid my bill and came out. skirting the watery road at the crossing I managed to walk along the long corridor of the Indian Coffee House building and then hired a rikshaw  to arrive at Nishatgunj  river bridge.

The brídge here was above water but the approach road was under more than  ankle deep water. we  crossed it in our rikshaw it and, crossing the bridge, we went through dry area of Nishatgunj market up to the beginning of Mahanagar. From here to the north, the entire stretch of mahanagsr colony was a vast ocean. we took a boat to row upto the secretariat colony where my relatives were then living in an upper flat. The lower flats here had disappeared under water. we rowed and I was level with the upper floors as I approached the flat of my relative. They stood in the balcony watching me and  told me that army boats were helping them get provisions from Nishatgunj market. . . . . .

. . . . . . . That was almost half a century back. Lucknow   subsequently got  far stronger embankments and river bed has also been desilted.   The city has further expanded into more low-lying areas and  has so far been spared another crisis of floods. The  memory of 1971 remains. . . . .!

***

The Haunted Monkey Bridge

"The haunted monkey bridge"

I started paddling the #bicycle furiously as the approach to the bridge neared.

Paddling thus, I sailed over the mild incline and levelled up at the #bridge.

The speeding bicycle shot across the bridge and went down the slope on the other side to cross the big iron gate of entrance to #Lucknow university.

What a relief ! I was safe ! It was the first time I had crossed the  haunted #MonkeyBridge in the gathering darkness of an evening. and nothing happened to me !

Yes ! Monkey bridge was #HAUNTED. Thats what everyone said when I joined the university. Suddenly an apparition would appear out of the blue to drive daylight out of an unsuspecting wanderer. There were so many horror tales. Here is one:

". . . . . . .He was moving on the road towards the bridge on a desolate winter evening when a begger accosted him.

" God will bless you sahib. I have not eaten anything today. bless me with a  small coin and God will bless you with a fortune."

He found and took out a two paisa coin from his coat pocket. The beggar was all wrapped up in a soiled torn blanket. Now he unwrapped and  extended his hand.

What came out of the blanket was the huge leg of a horse, with a hoof touching his hand.

He panicked  and started running away. He saw a tonga ahead.

He shouted at the tonga to stop.

The tonga stopped abruptly and he jumped to the rear seat. He asked the tonga driver to drive away fast. The tonga picked up speed.

"What is the matter #sahib ? you seem to be very agitated "

He narrated the frightening experience to the tonga driver.

" . . . and Í saw a horse's leg coming out of the blanket " He concluded.

" My God", exclaimed the tonga man, " was it like this .."

The tonga driver extended his arm towards the rear of the tonga where the man was sitting.

. . . And it was a huge leg of  horse  before him, the hoof prodding him. He looked up at the tonga man's face and saw a sneering horse's head there staring at him!

He shrieked and jumped out of the racing tonga, fell on the road and fainted . . . he was rescued  moments later by a #chowkidar (security patrol) on the night beat. . . "

That was one of the many stories going round when I joined the university.

Monkey Bridge, also know as #Bruce's Bridge, was built c.1866 to cross the Gomti River linking Lucknow University on the northern bank to the Chattar Manzil on the southern bank.
"There was formerly a bridge of boats here; the present bridge was built in 1865, and completed in 1866, under the superintendence of Mr. Bruce, the Municipal Engineer." (archive)

Towards the begínning of 1960s it was decided to replace this narrow, low, flood prone ageing Monkey bridge with a sturdy new four lane higher level bridge. The 'haunted' bridge was to be demolished.

Construction work started. The pillors of the new bridge, however, kept developing defects endlessly and there was no progress for quite some time to the utter desperation of  the engineer-in-charge. Then one night, as the story goes, the engineer was visited by a holy man in his dream and was advised to construct a temple of the monkey God Hanuman on the river bank at the site of the new bridge.

A small temple of hindu God Hanuman ji came up soon

and it was followed up successfully by a new imposing #HanumanSetuBridge.

The Ghosts of monkey bridge, if there were any, disappeared.
And the #GhostStories are no longer heard. . . .

*



LUCKNOW CALLING : The Ghazi-Uddin-Haider Canal

"LUCKNOW CALLING : The Ghazi-Uddin-Haider Canal"

A wide open drain runs through  the outskirts of Lucknow zoo and enters the Raj bhawan estate. Cutting across the north eatern edge of the estate,

it runs  along the back of Mall Avenue and Purana Quila. Then it turns south, cutting across the station road and going  to chhitwapur, further into the Charbag area and beyond. This stinking, slums infested, drain is famously known as Gaziuddin Hyder canal.

Lucknow was an insignificant place in north India until Asaf-ud-daula, the wazier Nawab of Oudh
moved his capital from Faizabad to Lucknow. And then a metamorphosis  started taking place.

A little later  Ghazi-ud-din Haider, the first Nawab Wazier, who had been  raised by Lord Hasting to the dignity of King of Oudh in 1818, assumed the reins of power. In his time Lucknow   became a great  Imperial city of the Nawabs. Gaziuddin Haider   facelifted the city with landmark buildings - among them being the majestic Chattar Manzil, the Mubarak Manzil and the Shah Manzil in the Moti Mahal complex . He also constructed the tombs of his parents, Sadat Ali Khan and Mushir Zadi Begum.  For his European wife, he constructed a European style building known as the Vilayati Bagh. Another creation was the Shah Najaf Imambara (1816),

his mausoleum, on the bank of the Gomti. This mausoleum was a copy of the fourth Caliph Ali's burial place in Najaf, Iraq.

The Canal was indeed the most ambitious project undertaken by Ghaziuddin Hyder. The idea was to construct a link canal that would  connect the river Ganga in Kanpur with the river Gomti in Lucknow. A canal was constructed across the heart of the city but had to be abandoned subsequently due to faulty engineering, the gradient being defective, defeating the purpose for which it was intended.

Having failed to link the Ganga,  the Canal came to serve the purpose of the main arterial drain into which smaller drains  from various colonies of Lucknow empty their muck as it flows into the river gomti. In course of time it accumulated lot of filth and acquired a distinct stink . Unauthorised hutments cropped up along the canal leading to sprawling dirty slums.

A few years back a drive to beautify the city took place. As a result  of this programme, a long stretch of area lying along  the back of Mall Avenue got face lifted.

Slums were cleared and  a neat wide flyover was constructed above the canal. The area was beautified with lamp posts , flowering trees and shrubs and side lanes. (see photos).  The idea was novel and besides transforming the dirty, slum infested, nala area into a nice neat stretch it vastly eased traffic congestion on the busy havelock road.

The legacy of Ghaziuddin Hyder has, thus,  acquired another, modern,  identity -The Ghaziuddin Canal Flyover - giving a fresh lease to the legend of the Lucknow Nawab !

**

The Tehsildar

"The Tehsildar"

The training had started.

It was some kind of a practical district training - getting attached to various functionries of the district administration  from the tehsildar to the district magistrate, to get a feel of the tasks they perform and getting an idea of how the government works at the cutting edge level.

I was attached to Tehsildar first and reported at 10 o'clock sharp at what was known as his 'Chamber'.

The  modest size 'chamber'  had a big green rexine topped office table there with a comfortable swivel chair on one side and four simple chairs on the opposite side.  The Tehsildar's chair was vacant.

I waited the whole day . Tehsildar did not come.

Next day I had some books with me - the various manuals like the Taqqavi Act, the Cr P C. I studied these.

The Tehsildar did not come.

In the next two days also, the Tehsildar's chair remained unoccupied.

On the fifth day as I was scootering down to the Tehsil office, I decided to visit the District Magistrate on my way. He was responsible to the central government for my training.

"So how is the training going? " He enquired pleasantly. He was an affable old chap.

" I am with the Tehsildar, Sir,  for the last four days, " I replied "reading the various manuals"

There was a note of disapproval in his eyes. "That you could have done in Delhi itself. No need to have come here. What is the point of coming to a district if you don't get practical experience" he observed sarcastically.

" That's exactly how I feel sir" I replied cooly, " but that is the only thing I can do to utilise time as the Tehsildar has not come to his office for the last four days".

The obvious happened next. He phoned the  tehsildar and gave him a thorough dressing down.

" you can go to his office now.", he said replacing the phone, "He will be there today" .

I found  the tall and hefty tehsildar in his chair as I entered his so called 'Chamber'. He had some kind of resemblance to the hollywood 'western' actor John Wayne.

I greeted him.

He ignored my greeting. I could see that he was seething with anger but could not direct it towards me.

He rang the call bell and the office boy rushed in.

" Where is the ameen? Useless fellow. Ask him to come immediately" he shouted.

When the Ameen came he barked at him for a few minutes, unloading his pent up wrath.

He then called the Naib Tehsildar and shouted at him too for quite sometime. He looked at me for effect. I gave a bored expression.

He called quite a few other subordinates and went on with the shouting game. He kept looking at me all the time to gauge my state of mind.

I sat there with an expression of intrigued disinterest. why was he behaving in this manner, I asked myself.

He had called another chap for his dressing down drama but the bloke was absent. As he sat there waiting, keeping himself in readiness to explode on the bloke , I got my chance.

" Do you have this combination of Sun, moon and mars in your horoscope?" I asked him suddenly , explaing the combination.

He was taken aback. This was the last thing expected  from me.

There was now a metamorphosis. He looked stunned for a while and then he gave me a disarming smile, relaxing.

” Yes I do have. But how did you know?". He was curious.

"I guessed.The way you were shouting at your staff meant that it was most likely" I replied in a friendly tone.

The bloke he had been waiting for, now entered. But the drama was already over.  No more shouting.

" You should come to office in time, son. " He said patronisingly to the nervous young man, "See, we have a guest here. "

The chap now noticed me and gave a resounding salute which I acknowledged.

" That's better. Now get some tea and good biscuits please" the Tehsildar instructed him, "and ask the driver to be ready with the jeep. We are going for inspection of a village in an hour"

I had a most lively and instructive practical experience of how a Tehsildar works, in the days that followed. He took me to neighbouring villages and showed me how he settled land disputes, how a field was measured, what crops were sown and how a green manure of fast growing DHENCHA weed is used in the interval between the two main crops to revitalise the fields.The tehsildar was an efficient and popular person and saw to it that he made up for the lost four days!

The district magistrate was very much pleased to see the progress of my training and attributed it to the way he had pulled up the Tehsildar.

I knew better ! (And you too now, don't you ! ).

The stars had a role !!

**

Once upon a time in Allahabad

"Once upon a time in Allahabad"

First came the musical chimes - one chime, loud and clear, for each quarter of an hour. Then came the powerful gongs that set the skies vibrating for miles around. Eight gongs in all, as I entered new katra colony at eight o'clock  on my first morning in Allahabad.  Welcome to the University of Allahabad !!

Yes that was the welcome note to my arrival at Allahabad university several decades back.  The powerful clock tower was on the top of the majestic, red roofed yellow stone Senate Hall in the Arts faculty campus. This clock had been supplied by the manufacturers of the London Big Ben and was a perfect copy of the famous clock.

As I look back through the mist of time I see the university road connecting the science  and the arts blocks. There were several shops on either side of the road, some were book shops and  there were at least two restaurants.

Towards the Sir Sunder Lal  Hostel side the last shop was a restaurant cum  bakery of Bhat ji. That was two shops after the barber's shop.A young man from there carrying a big tin  box in the carrier of his bike used to come to our hostel in the afternoon. There were fresh buns, butter, pastries and  loaves of bread in the box

. We either paid in cash or noted the amount in a long narrow book that he carried, to settle the payment at the end of the month.

Somewhere in the middle of that small market was the popular Jagati's restaurant, its owner, Mr. Jagati always in a Gandhi cap over the western dress.  It was usually fully packed at lunch time with students and others. I believe that it is no longer there.

The corner shop at the crossing towards the science block was a general merchandise shop run by two almost identical looking  young brothers.

They stored almost every thing a student required. When nylon was first introduced, this shop was among the first to sell somewhat expensive pure nylon socks which were tough enough to last for ever! The cotton socks used to wear out within weeks.

From this general merchandise shop crossing,  there was a road towards the Anand Bhawan. Right at the  beginning was H D Pant tailor's shop. At a little distance, close to the Diamond Jubilee hostel , was a corner tea shop run by an old woman.

The shop was popularly known as "Buria ki dukan"(old woman's shop. She offered some ready made snacks and good quality tea. A tasty, spicy "mixture" of puffed rice and various "dals" was popular with students, most of whom were on shoe string budgets.

The Arts block side had the stately grand Senate Hall.

The science campus  consisted of  yellow stone buildings of various departments and one could locate  the chemistry department by the pungent odors of various gases including H2S emanating from there !. The university's cricket ground, hockey and football fields as also the squash and tennis courts were located here in the  ample open expanses. There was also  that timeless stately Muir tower.

The campus was very  clean.Plastic desposable shopping bags and plastic bottles had not yet arrived and the menace of plastic garbage was blissfully missing. All  food in the hostels  was organic as the use of fertilisers and pesticides had also not begun. The air was  clean. The menace of smog came later.

That was way back in the past. But the gongs of London's big Ben at the start of  BBC news still keep resurrecting the  memory of my days once upon a time in Allahabad !

                            ***

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