The day I bought a harmonica - Part Three

Melody Mart is a small store that sells musical instruments. It has showcases that display guitars, harmoniums, and weird enough, torn tablas and dholaks. I walked up to it to find the proprietor attending to two ladies who had gone there to inquire about sitar prices. I made a humble but firm hand gesture at him to indicate that I was there for business. "Panditji, zara dekhiye inhe kya chahiye..", he said to the man called 'Panditji' who worked there.

I remembered him from my visit there about two and a half years ago. "Panditji, aapke paas harmonica milega? Mouth organ?", I asked. He shook his head. "Nahi humare pass toh filhaal nahi hai.." "Accha. Waise kya daam hota hai mouth organ ka lagbhag? Aap bechte toh honge..", I asked him. "Ab dekhiye saada wala toh adhai-teen sau tak mil jayega, aur changer wala char-saadhe char sau tak."

"Ye changer kya hota hai?" I really didnt know, so I asked.
"Woh iscale change karne ka button hota hai. Suron ki jo iscale hoti hai, usko thoda aage dhakelta hai bas. Aaj kal koi mouth organ hi nahi leta hai..changer wala toh door ki baat hai", Panditji explained.
"Accha mujhe mil toh jayega na aas-pass? Suna hai yahaan toh kaafi dukanein hain."
"Mushkil hai, par aage woh Shaukat sahb ki dukaan hai; sadak paar kar lijiye yahaan se dayein mod ke, udhar pooch lijiye", he suggested.

I followed Panditji's directions and went to Shaukat Ali Musical Instruments where his employees were busy tuning tablas, beating their edge with a special hammer. I spoke to a man who I assumed must be Shaukat Sahb, for he was dressed in a crisp kurta and was in a seat that appeared to be placed where the owner would place his. I asked for a harmonica, but he didn't have one either. Panditji was right, it seems. Not many people seemed to be interested in buying harmonicas. Let alone buying, people weren't keen on stocking them either. I scratched my head. I knew that there were some more shops a block or two past Melody Mart .

So I walked a bit down Latouche Road and took a right, and found what I wanted. There were two shops, separated only by a wall, and both sold the same items. Neither seemed to think that this was bad for business.

I walked into the one on the right that had a glass door; seemed neat. Guitars, mandolins and what-nots were hanged from the glass panels at the entrance. Boxes with pictures of keyboards, amplifiers, were stacked in one corner, which had a little stairway that led to the upper floor of the shop. The shop seemed impressive. A kid not older than sixteen or seventeen was sitting on a stool holding an acoustic guitar, staring blankly at the wall as he plucked strings at random.

"Dost, mouth organ hai kya?", I asked. He turned his head to look at me, but an old man's voice replied "Bagal mein dekh lijiye, humare pass khatam ho gaye hain." I hadn't noticed this man, who was standing in the dim right corner of the shop. A bit shaken, I replied "Shukriya" and went out the door.

The tiny shop on the left didn't have a door. On both sides of it, cartons and cases were placed to form a 'V' that extended onto the street. Shabby. A paan-chewing man who appeared to be in his fifties sat at one tip of the 'V'. More men were seated inside, dusting the items for sale. I didn't think much of this place, but thought it was worth a shot.

For the fourth time that day, I asked the same question, this time to the paan-chewing gentleman. "Kaunsa wala chahiye, saada ya changer wala?", he asked. I was relieved to know that at least these guys had harmonicas. "Dikhaiye changer wala.."

The man said loudly to one of the people inside, "Beta inko mouth organ dikhao, changer wala!" The man inside searched a couple of big cases, and pulled out a little cardboard case. "Ye dekhiye", he said. I held it. "Ye baja ke dekh sakta hu?", I asked. "Bilkul, tasalli kar lijiye.." It sounded decent. Not bad for a beginner. I decided I was going to buy it. "Kitne ka hai ye?" "Saat sau rupaiye."

I had seen my friend Vineet bargain and he's a real hardass, so I decided to put some of those observations into practice, and try my hand at bargaining. I placed the harmonica in the case, kept the case on one of the cartons, turned away saying "Rehne dijiye" and started to walk.

"Arey arey rukiye toh..chaliye six hundred de dijiye", the paan-chewing man offered. I shook my head "Nahi nahi chhah sau bahut zyada hai, main itne paise de hi nahi sakta", and took another step.
"Toh kitne denge, aap bataiyen?", he asked.
"Maine waha Melody Mart me puccha wo toh chaar sau bol rahe hain..aur aap chhah sau..chhodiye rehne hi dijiye", I dismissed.
"Chaliye na aapka na mera, four-fifty de dijiye, aapke hath se bohni karwa raha hu aaj ki", he made his final offer.

Now that was more like it. Four-fifty was a decent bargain. I mean, it may be a lot cheaper at other places; I may have been duped anyway but getting duped for four-fifty wasn't as bad as getting duped for seven hundred. I took the offer and bought the harmonica. "Is me koi problem toh nahi ayega na?", I asked him as he returned my change. "Bilkul nahi bilkul nahi quality piece hai..aap bay-fikr rahein. Aur koi gadbad hui toh hamare paas le aiye..National Harmonium" he said, and pointed to the signboard.

He took the assurances too far. I mean he obviously didn't give a damn what happened to the harmonica anymore, but that's normal. I put the case in my pocket, and walked back towards Latouche Road to get a ride home.

July the twenty third, the day I bought a harmonica.

The day I bought a harmonica - Part Two

Next I walked to Shalimar building a few blocks from the crossing, where I had to go to the bank. It was just an in and out visit. My errands were finally done. While i was in the queue at the GPO, being free this quick seemed like a bleak possibility.

I knew I couldnt walk to Aminabad in the heat: It was noon and a clear July sky. So I asked a rickshaw-wala, "Bhaiya Aminabad chaloge?" "Aminabad kahan jayenge?" "Umm..Safed Masjid." "Chaliye." "Baith jayen?" "Haan baith jaiyen." These rickshaws are pedal driven.

I was going to Aminabad because I'd been there earlier to buy my guitar. It didn't turn out great, but I had no other leads on music shops in Lucknow. The driver turned left from Mayfair Square, into Lalbagh and we passed by Novelty Cinema where a three-headed Ajay Devgn was staring into the circle from a height. In a few minutes we were at the Kaiserbagh Roundabout.

"Ji Safed Masjid jana hai na?", he asked. "Humein pata hai ye wali gully hai", I said, pointing to one of the roads that spun out of the Circle. "Hum bata rahe hain, Safed Masjid.." "Aap idhar se hi chalo, humein yad hai", I said. He followed my direction and we went down the crowded lane. The place didn't look like it did a couple of years ago when I'd last been there.

"Woh bandookon ki dukaane kahan gayi?" I asked the driver, and I realised I had directed him onto the wrong road. "Woh toh doosri wali gully hai saheb." "Arey gadbad ho gayi yar..Chaloge waha? " I asked him. He was visibly tired from pedaling in the sun, and I didn't want to insist. "Chalenge, kyu nahi?", came his reply and he u-turned the rickshaw on the spot. 

One thing I've observed in Lucknow is that there is little or no traffic discipline here, so it was apparently very normal to turn anywhere, cut past any vehicle, in a narrow street at least. Even the vehicles trailing behind us found this normal: they just went ahead around either side of our rickshaw, whichever was easier. No offense given or taken. In a couple of minutes we were back at the Roundabout.

This time we went down Latouche Road. This is again quite a narrow road, bustling with activity: at the start there's a vegetable market, miscellaneous shops and a lot of people. Just people. Doing their stuff, living out their lives.

As we went past the market, I heard a screech. A car had sped past us and as it did, the axle of the rickshaw had scraped it nice and proper on the outside. Again, this seemed normal. The car guy didnt seem to care, and the rickshaw guy was the least bothered. "Ye gaadi-bike walo ko itni bhi kya jaldi lagi rehti hai?" I got to talking with him. "Pata nahi saheb, chalaate toh aise hain jaise khudahi ki sadak ho.. Chhodiye ye toh aise hi hain."

Latouche Road is known for its gunshops. A good patch of the road is lined on both sides with gunshops. Their signboards make them look just like your everyday gunshops. You know, you step in, you buy a gun and you leave. "humare yahan sabhi prakaar ki riflein aye-vam pistaulein milengi"

As I saw Safed Masjid approaching, I said to the rickshaw guy, "Bas Bas bhaiya yahin utaar dijiye humein." I got down, reached inside my pocket and asked him, "Kitne paise dein?" "Jitne theek lagein de dijiye aur kya.." "Arey aise nahi, aap boliye toh", I said. I was feeling a bit guilty about earlier. The least I could do was pay him what he expected. "Chaliye bees rupaiye de dijiye." I held out thirty and said to him, "Ye lijiye bees sawaari ke aur dus hamari galati ke." He smiled.

The money exchanged hands and I started walking towards Melody Mart.

The day I bought a harmonica - Part One

Sunny day, last saturday was. I had a couple of errands to run so I left the apartment at around 11. My first stop was the GPO opposite the Hazratganj crossing. About 10 minutes by foot. It is housed in an old English, presumably very early 20th century building. It has a clock tower too. Picture perfect. People stood smoking at the gate and along the footpath surrounding it, amongst many others sat a certain kind of people I hadn't seen too often: typewriter scribes!

They sat on the ground, each with a placard that read 'hindi' perched against their ancient typewriters, reading out of a sheet of paper and typing into another. One of them had set up his office right next to the gate, and was typing away, stopping at times to twirl his moustache as the middle-aged woman who was dictating to him paused to think. As I approached the building I saw a dustbin placed next to one of the columns at the entrance. The dustbin was red on top. Not originally, I observed, but by community service. It had red lines coming out of it and onto the ground around it, like rays from the sun.

I walked into the great hall which had endless counters, and seemingly endless queues at them. As I tried to find my way around I saw a signboard that read 'A10 MONEYORDER/SPEEDPOST/INSURED->'. I went to A10, which had about five or six people in the line waiting to be served. I was talking to the old man with the salt-and-pepper beard who stood at the end, "Speedpost ki line yehi hai kya?"."Ji", he replied.

There was muttering. "Kitna samay lagaate hain ye..zyada packet bhejne ho toh alag subidha honi chahiye na. Alag se counter khol do yar..ab ye dekhiye time barbad kiye ja rahe hai humara toh ek hi speedpost hai". Apparently the man at the start of the line had 10 speedposts to send, which irked everyone else. I saw more counters with the same labels (MONEYORDER/SPEEDPOST/INSURED) and asked the old man why these counters were not functional.
"Neeche timing dekhiye. Ye bara baje khulte hain..sarkari naukar niyam ke pakke hain janaab!", he said with sarcasm and a smile.

At long last it was the turn of the old man. I took a peek at his staple-sealed envelope. He was sending it to some "Varisht Safai Adhikari, Jaipur". As he reached the counter, he gave the envelope to the clerk. The clerk threw it back at him: "Ye nahi chalega.. staple nikaliye" and asked him to step aside and seal it with glue. I panicked. My envelope had two pins stapled to it. Luckily, mine was already glued too. I hurriedly ripped the pins out, and handed it over. "Ye kahan..Goa bhejna hai?", the clerk asked. "Ji", I replied. "Pacchis rupaiye dijiye."

I dug the cash out of my pocket, placed it on the counter, took the receipt and left.

A few things that happened (while I was trying to become an engineer):

• The communists were ousted from West Bengal after 34 years.
• Osama bin Laden was killed.
• There was another revolution in Egypt.
• India won the cricket world cup for the second time after 28 years.
• The first double-hundred in one-day-internationals was scored.
• The 168-yr old News Of The World shut shop.
• Many more that I can't recollect at the moment.

          I'm still trying.