The year was 1979, Janta Party was in power and Morarji Desai was our P.M. Morarji was a man of spartan lifestyle which included self urine therapy and abhorred alcohol. Prohibition had been initiated in random districts of Uttar Pradesh, Lucknow being an unfortunate sufferer.
We had contacts in the army and managed meagre supply of rum at premium rates. However, resources soon dried up, liquor becoming out of common man's reach.Those were troubled times. We greatly missed our weekly catharsis sessions catalysed by the spirits. Liquor granted a strange warmth to our hearts and made us eloquent. In the company of friends we used to wash away our worries and woes but now the incitation was missing.
One gloomy Saturday evening,I was sitting alone in the residents' room when Dr. Pradeep Bharti walked in and sat besides me. We were both posted in R.A.L.C. and had got accustomed to a life of comforts. After a brief lull he exclaimed,"Boss, something needs to be done urgently, its beyond tolerance now. " I explained that I had exhausted my means and suggested that we drive up to Sidhauli ( District Sitapur, a wet district)and buy some stock. Pradeep recounted an instance of a resident getting caught by excise people, the liquor being confiscated. I had also heard many horror stories of inhuman excisemen at the Lucknow- Sitapur border.So, Sidhauli was out! "How about Faizabad boss?", chirped Pradeep. "Boss, Faizabad is THE place.Its open there." Now there was light at the end of the tunnel! We opened up the railways time table and found trains to take us to and from Faizabad. The schedule gave us enough time to visit the holy city of Ayodhya and a trip was hastily planned for the morrow-a Sunday.
Sunday morning was bright and sunny and two daredevils started for Charbagh. An air bag with a couple of towels for packing the precious booty was slung on Pradeep's shoulder and the world seemed so pretty.
On reaching Faizabad, we took a rickshaw to Ayodhya and enjoyed the darshan of the imprisoned Ram lala, Hanuman Garhi, Kanak Mahal and the holy Saryu. Came back to Faizabad and met my batchmate, Dr. Arvind, who was doing well in private practice. We purchased four bottles of rum which were tightly cushion packed with the towels and proceeded to the railway station to have refreshments in the canteen and then wait for the train. We were beaming with joy on our possession and the wait was interminable.
The train rambled in and we ran to secure seats in a general, unreserved compartment. Our booty- the air bag was reverentially placed on the luggage rack above. With elated hearts we kept gossiping and the train moved outward towards our destination. Soon we were exchanging telltales with our co-passengers, enjoying tea whenever the train stopped at stations.
Somewhere, sometime the topic of conversation veered to the prevalent liquor ban and smuggling of alcohol to Lucknow from adjoining districts. We were stupefied! It seemed that the entire conversation was directed at us. We were eyeing each other and also our cache perched above. Stories of police barbarity on liquor carriers at Lucknow railway station were being recounted, much to our unease and alarm. Talks of police searches of railway compartments were also narrated and we listened with extreme discomfiture.
Bharti exclaimed,”Boss, if this compartment is raided, we’ll discard all claim to this Godforsaken air bag and allow it to be seized as unclaimed”.The suggestion was flawless and was instantly agreed upon. But what about disembarking at Lucknow station? The fear of getting caught by the excise police was frightening and intimidating. Getting roughed up by the police and then landing behind the bars seemed the most logical outcome of our misadventure.
Suddenly the train started losing speed and soon came to a screeching halt. Fearful, as we were,our hearts pounding, apprehending the arrival of bulky, sinister policemen, we sat shrunken in our seats. Some co-passenger proclaimed that the train had halted at the outer signal of Lucknow Sadar and the solution to our travails flashed in an instant in my otherwise numbed brain. I whispered,”Bharti, come on, lets get down here fast.We can trudge to Sadar Bazaar and avoid getting caught at Lucknow station.” The idea went well, we collected our booty and disembarked hastily onto the network of rail tracks with moonlight guiding us towards habitation.
Soon we were finding our way to the main road from the bylanes of sadar bazaar. Lady luck finally smiled upon us as a lone rickshaw approached us and was instantly hired at the demanded price. We sat in hushed silence till we reached the portals of residents’ hostel, where we gave out a war cry. Oh! What a price we’d paid for four bottles of rum!
