Luckhnawi Dastarkhwan

Title: Luckhnawi Dastarkhwan

12 July, 2024. Dopahar ke 2:30 baje.

Arre yaar... aaj phir wahi khidki se dhool ki kirne andar aa rahi hain. Woh choti si khidki jo meri kitchen se lagti hai — jahan pehle 40 logon ki awaazein aati thi. Ab sirf ek kauwa baitha hai, jo mujhe ghoorta hai jaise pooch raha ho, "Ab kya banayega, Nazeer Chacha?"

Main hoon Nazeer Bhai. Saath saal ka ho gaya. Mere baal safed ho gaye hain, haath mein arthritis hai, aur yeh kitchen — yeh kitchen ab sirf ek museum hai jisme khana banne ki badboo aati hai, par koi nahi aata khaane.

Mere abba hua karte thay — Tajuddin Bawarchi. Arre, naam toh suna hoga! Nahi? Theek hai. Zamana badal gaya hai. Par unke zamane mein, Chowk ki galliyon mein log unka naam lete thay jaise koi dua padhte ho. "Tajuddin ki dum biryani," "Tajuddin ke galouti," "Tajuddin ka shahi tukda..."

Abba kehte thay, "Nazeer, beta, khaana sirf masala nahi hai. Khaana yaadon ka silsila hai. Har nawab ke khaane mein uski taqdeer hoti thi. Hum toh sirf unki taqdeer banate thay."

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Flashback: 1985. Eid ka din.

Garmi thi. Lekin haveli ke aangan mein nimbu paani ki sharbatein thandi thi. Humara haveli — woh purani, teen manzila haveli Aminabad ke beech mein — us din zinda tha. Zinda!

Mere bade bhai, Akbar Bhai, unhone naya kurta pehna tha. Unki daadhi mein itr ki khushboo thi. Hum sab — chaar bhai, teen behnein, unke bachche, humare bachche, chachere, mamere — sab ek hi dastarkhwan pe baithe thay. Woh dastarkhwan... yaad hai? Woh safed chikankari wala, jo abba ne apne nikah pe banwaya tha? Aaj bhi wohi chadar bichi thi, aur uspe ek poori duniya sajji thi.

Dum biryani. Abba ki special dum biryani.

Log kehte hain biryani bas chawal aur gosht hai. Arre! Biryani toh dum hai. Dum! Woh aag ka jaadu. Woh deghchi ka dhakkan, uske upar atta ki lakeer, aur andar — andar ek duniya simmer ho rahi hai. Main ab bhi woh din yaad karta hoon jab abba ne mujhe pehli baar dum lagna sikhaya.

"Nazeer," unhone kaha, "haath rakh degh pe. Feel kar. Yeh garami sirf garami nahi hai. Yeh teri nani ki yaad hai, yeh teri dadi ki dua hai, yeh un nawabon ki amanat hai jinke liye mere dada kaam karte thay."

Maine haath rakha. Garam tha. Lekin sach mein... sach mein woh kuch aur tha. Woh connection tha. Woh silsila tha.

Aur phir galouti kebab. Oh! Abba ke galouti kebab toh mashhoor thay. "Galouti" — iska matlab jaante ho? "Gal" jaana, mtlab melt hona. Woh kebab jo muh mein gal jayein. Lekin yeh sirf meat aur papaya ki recipe nahi thi. Yeh toh technique thi. Woh mince ka texture — itna fine ki paani ki tarah feel ho. Woh masala ka balance — itna perfect ki ek bhi cheez dominating na lage. Woh seekh pe lagane ka tareeqa — itna gentle jaise kisi bachche ko sulana ho.

"Tez nahi, Nazeer," abba kehte thay. "Dheere. Dheere. Jaise mohabbat karte hain. Jaise dadi ammi ki daastan suna rahe ho."

Eid ke din, jab woh kebab tawa pe rakhe, poori haveli mein khushboo fail gayi. Hum sab baithe — chaar peedhiyaan! Chaar! — ek dastarkhwan pe. Bachche daud rahe thay. Buzurg namaz padh ke aaye thay. Aur khana... khana toh bas bahana tha. Asli cheez thi woh saath hona. Woh "sab ek saath" wali feeling.

Lekin usi din... usi Eid ke din... mere bhai Akbar Bhai ne kaha, "Nazeer, haveli ka hisaab karna hai. Abba ki death ke baad yeh property..."

Maine kaha, "Bhaijaan, aaj Eid hai. Kal karte hain."

"Nahi," unhone kaha, "aaj hi karte hain."

Aur woh hua. Woh dastarkhwan pe hi, kebab ke plate ke saath, property ka jhagda shuru ho gaya. Ki kaun rahega kaunse kamre mein. Ki dukaan kiski. Ki abba ki recipes kiske paas jayengi.

Main chup raha. Main toh hamesha chup hi rehta tha. Mujhe sirf khana banana aata tha. Property nahi.

Dheere dheere, woh chaar peedhiyaan ek ho gayi do mein. Phir do se ek. Phir... phir main akela reh gaya. Akbar Bhai chale gaye — apni alag dukaan leke. Chote bhaiyon ne Mumbai shift kar liya. Behnen shaadi kar ke ghar basa liye.

Haveli ab khali hai. Sirf main hoon. Aur yeh kitchen.

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Aaj. 2024.

Meri beti aayi hai. Zara. Mumbai se. Corporate job karti hai. "Marketing head" hai kisi company mein. Mujhe nahi samajh aata yeh title, lekin woh bahut proud feel karti hai. Aur shayad thik bhi hai. Zamana badla hai.

"Papa," woh aayi toh pehli baat yeh boli, "yeh kitchen... yeh kitchen Instagram pe hit ho sakta hai!"

Maine kaha, "Instagram?"

"Haan, social media. Aapke recipes, aapki story, woh purana haveli... log pagal ho jayenge! 'Authentic Lucknowi Food,' 'Last Royal Chef,' 'Hidden Gem' — aise hashtags lagayenge. Aur phir monetize..."

"Zara," maine dheere se kaha, "chai peeyegi?"

Woh ruk gayi. Shayed usne expect kiya tha ki main excited hounga. Lekin maine usse kitchen mein bulaya. Woh purani deghchi nikali. Woh masala ka dibba jo abba ne banwaya tha — lakdi ka, teen manzila, har darwaze pe ek alag masala.

"Baith," maine kaha.

Maine usse dum biryani banana sikhana shuru kiya. Pehle, chawal bhigoye. Basmati — purana, ammi ke zamane wala variety, jo ab market mein nahi milta. Phir gosht ka saalan. Onion slow fry karna. Yeh woh technique thi jo main samajhna chahta tha ki woh samjhe.

"Papa, yeh kitna time lagega?" usne pucha. "Mere paas sirf do din hain. Phir presentation hai Mumbai mein."

"Do din?" maine pucha, "aur dum biryani?"

"Haan, woh toh pressure cooker mein..."

Maine haath uthaya. Rok diya usse.

"Zara," maine kaha, "tu jaanti hai dum kya hai?"

"Dum? Woh... steam?"