A Ride Through My City's Changing Soul

By Aarohi Srivastava

I watched a group of teenage girls clicking selfies outside Janpath, hardly glancing at the weathered The auto sputtered to life with a rattle, I tucked myself into the backseat just as the morning sun painted Lucknow in amber and dust. As we jolted into motion, I could see people already beginning with their daily chores. Some wore huge smiles — “holiday,” I guessed — while others looked tired and frustrated, likely school children just rolled out of bed.

I wasn’t expecting this ride to be anything more than a shortcut through traffic. But somewhere between the honking horns and the fading scent of morning chai, I realized — I was riding through the soul of a city quietly learning how to change. As we passed through the streets of Hazratganj, once a home to quiet, peaceful bookshops and stalls of fresh kebabs, I could see that the place still stood proud with a hint of Lucknow’s royalty still hidden in it but this time it was covered with neon signs and billboards advertising shops and restaurants that were sure to catch the attention of impatient tourists. There were weathered and rusted benches beside them which their grandparents once sat on, humming songs of their favourite movies and whispering poetry to the skies above. Further ahead, I saw a rusted post box hung in an old alley, still waiting eagerly and patiently for a letter. “This is a new generation, child. Everything happens with a click now,” the auto driver said, as if reading my mind. Through Aminabad change was clearer, one man read a newspaper; another leaned against a bike, glued to his phone. One vendor sold handmade diyas, another LED candles, a group laughed over tea at a street stall while a man walked out of Subway with an extra-cheese sandwich — all in one frame. Finally, as we crossed the river, I turned back to catch a last glimpse of the Imambara domes resting like old kings soaking under the sun. No matter how much Lucknow expands or evolves, the past doesn't vanish — it simply folds itself quietly into an envelope of the present. This ride gave me a chance to take a small look at the peaceful and lively lives my parents and grandparents would have lived, and I admit, the old time was one where life was worth living without those machines around you and just the company of your loved ones, times when life had a different meaning— when families laughed over evening tea and grandparents told young children stories of their parents’ childhood, where instead of being glued to phones, youngsters would listen to songs on a radio and dance freely rather than watching a Netflix show. If I could ever get a chance to do time travel, I would love to go back to this period when life was far more peaceful, laughter was endless and smiles were pure happiness, when games like ‘sampoliya’ and ‘gilli danda’ occupied children rather than subway surfers and temple run.

In this part of the city, the skyline is still learning to speak two dialects — one of aspiration, one of memory. That auto ride was more than an experience for me, it was a learning, one that made me realise the value of both, modern life and the old, satisfying life.

  “The sky was bright and the wind was light in Lucknow that represented an awesome sight”

By Aarohi Srivastava