India, July 5 -- Caught at the crossroads of a fading Nawabi era, the lingering influences of colonial rule and the birth pangs of a newly independent India, Lucknow witnessed a cultural and linguistic shift after 1947. While Urdu and English held their ground as the dominant languages of the time, 'Hindustani' (modern Hindi) began its steady ascent in the daily lives of the city's residents. This evolution was most evident in the everyday vernacular of the era, much of which has since faded into obscurity. For example, the word 'saikda', once the standard term for 'one hundred', is now rarely used. It was a time when humble denominations like the 10, 25 and 50 paisa coins held tangible buying power. Rooted in an older system where a single rupee was divided into 16 annas, the 25-paisa coin was universally known as a 'chawanni' and the 50 paisa coin as an 'athhanni'. Even local markets possessed their own distinct vocabulary; daily provisions were available at the 'parchuniya' while traditional indigenous medicines were strictly the domain of the 'pansari'. Fast forward to the present year of 2026, which was marked by a prolonged and torrid summer. Yet, interestingly, the mercury hovered around 41 to 42degC mark. This stood in stark contrast to the unforgiving summers of decades past, where soaring highs of 45degC were a regular occurrence, inevitably accompanied by 'loo' - the fierce, scorching wind blowing from the deserts of Rajasthan that once defined a true Lucknowi summer. The city's prominent roads would then be watered manually after sunset, by 'bhishtis' carrying water in their 'mashaks', courtesy the municipal authorities. For children, life was simple, with 'gubbare wallahs' selling balloons and plasticky toys. 'Budhia ke baal' or candy floss was very popular, due to its extreme sweetness and pink colour. It is available even today, but the peculiar name is gone and its preparation is mechanised. The origin of the pink colour remains a mystery. Another kind of confectionery, wound on top of a bamboo pole was also sold, this time white in colour. The seller would pull a strand of the elastic material, mould it into different shapes and present it to giggling children. The latter also remained busy with kites ('patang', 'kankaiyya'), tops ('lattu-latti') and marbles ('kancha'). The central pit in a marble game was called a 'guchhuk' - a very interesting term indeed. All these pastimes required skills. 'Gully cricket' was not so popular in those days. 'Box wallahs' selling cosmetics, laces, crochet and embroidery material, together with a jumble of items related with ladies' day-to-day trousseau continued to enamour the women folk; the latter bargained incessantly with the sellers, who were already burdened with their heavy wooden, glass panelled boxes balanced precariously on their heads. 'Choodi wallahs' exclusively sold glass bangles from their wooden display boxes. The 'bioscope wallah' carried a garishly coloured, multi-sided contraption, with several circular viewing ports. Women and children would gather around its sides and peep through the viewing ports, as painted slides and moving images came alive inside the box, accompanied by a squeaky soundtrack - an early experience of cinema. Those were the days of gramophones and single-screen cinemas, but gramophone records could be scratchy and speeds unreliable; the cinematic experience was expensive. The radio was a cheaper option since it played songs from local radio stations and even stations from across the world (MW for local stations, SW for stations such as Radio Ceylon, BBC and VOA) free of cost. One could even request songs to be played as per one's choice by means of a postcard. The heavy, electrically operated valve radios with wooden cabinets were soon displaced by sleeker transistor radios, which were portable and battery operated. The march of technology into our lives had begun. But be it the radio or transistor - both had mandatory government 'licenses', which had to be renewed annually after paying a token fee. In the days of yore, medicine shops were called pharmacies or chemists & druggists having the services of a qualified pharmacist, who could literally prepare a 'mixture' based on the doctor's prescription. This 'mixture' would be presented in a glass bottle with a strip of paper on the side, indicating dosage. It was effective and children loved its taste. Among the many shops and showrooms that existed and vanished in our favourite Hazratganj, a medical shop called M/s Solomon & Co still stands strong, which provided this service to customers. Its 'tincture benzoin' and 'tincture iodine' were equally effective for treating cuts, wounds and minor abrasions. During the 1971 Indo-Pakistan War, the Hazratganj police station (demolished in 2009) sounded a loud siren daily at 9am, to keep the public alert. Next to that exists the Rajya Soochna Kendra which is a toned down version of its original form. Half a century ago, it boasted of an exceedingly rich library; it periodically screened films in the main reading room for its members. Interestingly, Soochna Kendra had an extremely powerful loudspeaker system mounted on its front facade, facing main Hazratganj. The loudspeaker blared out the evening news, with a sizeable number of bystanders listening to the announcements. This practice might have started during the 1971 war, but it continued for several years, like the police station's siren. PC Sarkar, a former scientist, has authored several books on the forgotten heritage of Lucknow...