Ganga-Jamuni Tehzeeb: Why Lucknow still offers finest lessons in coexistence

Some cities impress you. Some cities entertain you. Some cities feed you. And then there are the rare cities that educate your soul. Lucknow is one of them. It does not shout its greatness. It does not market itself into magnificence. It does not demand admiration. It simply lives its values. And in a century increasingly addicted to division, that may be the most radical act of all.

My first lessons about Lucknow came not from the city itself but from my grandmother. Dadi came from Kurwar, a town not far from Lucknow and carried Awadh in her heart long after she had left its soil. From her, I heard stories of courtesy, compassion, conversation and coexistence. Stories of a place where faith was cherished but humanity was sacred.

Long before scholars coined phrases and politicians discovered slogans, Dadi spoke of what we now call Ganga-Jamuni tehzeeb. To her, it was simply life. Lucknow had understood something profound. Before religion, before language, before caste, before politics, there is humanity. The city was practising this philosophy long before it was written into poems, speeches or manifestos. Today, when much of the world seems determined to shrink itself into smaller and smaller certainties, Lucknow remains gloriously expansive.

During a recent visit, I encountered that conversation again in the remarkable SP Singh, founder of Lucknow Public School and Lucknow Public College of Professional Studies, Member of Parliament from Pratapgarh, and an educational visionary of modern Uttar Pradesh. Here is a man who emerged from a village in India carrying a dream large enough to transform a region. Tens of thousands of students now pass annually through institutions shaped by his vision. Entire generations have been given opportunity because one villager dared to imagine beyond circumstance. There are people who inherit privilege. There are people who create possibility. Singh belongs firmly to the latter category. And yet what stayed with me was not merely the scale of his achievement but the spirit of his table.

The finest arbi I have eaten in years. A lauki ka raita of such delicacy and depth that it could have been served in any grand dining room in the world. Simple food. Soulful food. Lucknow food. Because here, elegance is not dependent upon extravagance.Grace needs no gilding.

Then there was Vijay Mishra. How does one describe a man who moves through languages the way great musicians move through ragas? One moment he is quoting Shelley and Shakespeare in impeccable English, and the next he is invoking Ghalib, Zauq, and centuries of Urdu wisdom. Moments later, he is singing bhajans composed in devotion to Maa Sharda. Not performing. Not showing off. Simply being. His mind is a meeting place. His conversation is a crossroads. During a drive through Lucknow, I realised I was not merely travelling through a city. I was travelling through centuries of accumulated wisdom. As I departed for the airport, Vijay sent me a poem. “Aastha vishwas pushpit ho raha hai,Prem ka aakash surabhit ho raha hai.” Faith and trust are blooming into flower. The sky of love is filling with fragrance.

I have rarely encountered a more beautiful description of Lucknow itself. Because this city blooms where others harden, it perfumes where others polarise and it invites here others isolate.

I stayed at Saraca, the heritage hotel once known as Lebua, owned by my friend Abdullah, a son of Lucknow whose impeccable taste reflects the refinement of the city itself. At Aazrak, Chef Mohsin serves Awadhi cuisine that deserves international acclaim. Every meal felt like memory plated with precision. Every dish felt like history translated into flavour. Yet what moved me most was learning that Chef Mohsin descends from a lineage of cooks, who prepared food for the courts of Nawab Wajid Ali Shah. One tastes that history. One feels it. The food arrives carrying centuries.

But what fascinates me is that Lucknow’s greatness is not confined to royal kitchens. Its genius resides equally in family homes. In vegetarian tables. In humble recipes. In everyday hospitality. Because food here is not simply nourishment. It is philosophy. It is diplomacy. It is memory.

It is love made edible. Perhaps that is why UNESCO recognised Lucknow as a Creative City of Gastronomy. The honour is not really about recipes. It is about relationships. The cuisine reflects the culture that created it. And Lucknow’s culture remains one of the finest arguments ever made for coexistence.

Today the world finds itself standing at a crossroads. Everywhere there is noise. Everywhere there is certainty. Everywhere there is suspicion. Communities retreat behind walls both real and imagined. People increasingly seek comfort in sameness rather than growth through difference. The planet is connected digitally and fragmented emotionally.

Against that backdrop, Lucknow feels almost prophetic. It offers not nostalgia but instruction. Not sentimentality but strategy. Not weakness but wisdom. It demonstrates that cultures become stronger through exchange, not isolation. That faith flourishes when it is secure enough to coexist. That dignity expands when shared.

My hope is not merely that Lucknow survives. My hope is that Lucknow spreads. May its generosity become contagious. May its curiosity become viral. May its courtesy infect the world. May policymakers learn from it. May leaders study it. May governments recognise that social harmony is not a slogan but a daily practice. May they understand that cities become great not when they eliminate difference but when they teach difference how to dance.

Most of all, may Lucknow never become what so many places have become. May it never surrender its softness. May it never lose its soul. May it never trade conversation for confrontation, complexity for certainty, or compassion for convenience.

Because the world does not need Lucknow to become more like everywhere else.

The world needs everywhere else to become a little more like Lucknow. And if we are wise enough to listen, this old city by the Gomti still has much to teach us about how to live, how to love, and how to belong.

In an age of walls, Lucknow remains a door. In an age of noise, it remains a song. In an age of division, it remains a prayer. And what a magnificent prayer it is.