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Respected Asafuddaulah Nawab,

Your messenger must have been astonished to find this letter in your letterbox. Travelling all the way from earth, the letter must be in tatters by now while changing its hands from one angel to another. I type this letter on my laptop sitting in my room in your city, Lucknow, watching the twilight giving its way to a clear sky moonlit night as I ponder upon, when the messenger of heaven will deliver this letter to you. Your ministers initially, I presume, were a little disrespectful to me. As I walked on the streets and discovered new lanes in turns, I received offensive stares. Too much of freedom is being curtailed here, I concluded. I eulogized the descendents of Shivaji. I thought some exchange programmes can be organized between both the groups. Many a times, the shadow of claustrophobia tried to entangle me as I walked alone on the streets of some beautiful evenings. Back home, criticizing lucknowi adaa and its ways of life was a usual business to do. Two years were spent in sneering at the dwellers and their city. Now the time has set in to move on to some other city leaving the shadows of my footsteps in your guard. I write to inform you that your ministers do administer well in your absence and they deserve to be applauded for still being able to guard the Nawabi traditions. Your forts, Bhulbhulaiya, Bada Imambara, Chota Imambara are still in good shape and have not lost a bit of their charisma. Not to mention, I took real pleasure in trying the Nawabi delicacy and they later on entered my regular menu. My world has been broadened. Perceptions are amplified. I plan to retrace my footsteps perhaps after a score of years spending some beautiful Lucknowi shaam as I will walk down alone in quest of discovering new lanes. I duly apologize to you for being biasedly critical before I could experience Lucknow in its full glory.

Regards,

Arpita Chakrabarty

Lucknow, Hindustan (now India)

2008.