Oceans apart and hundreds of miles away in Manchester, England, a street is busy bubbling with activity as well as jalebis, pakoras and nihari
SIZZLING jalebi. Bubbling nihari. Lustrous saris. Bulging meetha pan. Blaring Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan. Welcome to Manchester. Welcome to Rusholme. Welcome to the Curry Mile; the home away from home.
Who would have thought that Manchester, a city once renowned for its cotton mills and an increasingly ubiquitous industrial workforce, a city in which local gang-wars were chronic and where the phrase ‘advent of technology’ was deemed derisory, would one day become not only UK’s third brightest tourist spot, but also the curry capital of the nation.
Curry, a generic term used in the promised land, to refer to the gravy (salan), has become a conversation starter, from the search for adjectives used to describe what one had the night before, to the amount of water one had to gulp down after what one had the night before. Amongst many other honours bestowed upon it, a day in the week is usually set aside where families and groups pay homage to the ‘Wonder’ of the food revolution and spend their money wisely.
The Curry Mile, a half-mile stretch of road in Manchester, is not just about sitting in restaurants with dishes; not many have ever even been heard of and are often as hard to pronounce as Greek surnames. It is classified as a mission; the preparation and the pre-visit excitement, the drive, or a walk, down the neon-lit ‘corridor’, while inhaling the spices, and the BBQ smoke, that has escaped the beckoning restaurants while dhols beat and heavily modified cars, continue to provide free audio entertainment.
And in case a prolonged walk is desired to build up the appetite, Curry Mile has the makings of a mini-Tariq Road. There are music shops providing strident audio samples from within their glittering interior with exhaustive collections ranging from Jagjit Singh, Noor Jehan, Mehdi Hasan, NFAK to Junoon, A.R. Rehman, Daler Mehndi and EP. Their window posters, bearing female-Asian models dressed in skimpy outfits also plays its part in attracting attention, even amongst the older generation.
Asian boutiques are rapidly making their presence felt in Rusholme as well with sparkling displays of ladies’ shalwar kameez and saris, a syndrome yet to entertain the non-Asians’ desires but settling in well with the vibrant ambiance. Where there are clothes, there are jewels. And the tradition is not lost here either; glittering demonstration of gold and silver pendants, rings, bracelets and earrings often results in a stop-and-stare through the spotless glass windows.
A mini-Asian supermarket, a pharmacy and a few travel agents saw it as a good investment and have recently moved to amongst the blessed food sellers. Be it the residents’, of which there is a big number of students, laziness to find alternatives, albeit distant ones, or the availability of everything from Rooh Afza and Shan Masala, to kalejee and gurday, these businesses have registered searing profits. For the star and crescent lovers, a board bearing ‘PIA’ always attracts throngs for a visit to Motherland on its flag carrier. Manchester’s weather is never too keen on giving people something to cheer about either. And that is how the pharmacy owners get their share of the wealth. In simple terms, there is something in everything for anyone and everyone.
And then comes the moment of glory; time to eat! Papadums, gol gappy, seekh kebab and chicken tikka. All served with mango chutney, achaar and raita. And that is just the starters. A glossy menu, bound and filled with impeccable and remarkably life-like illustrations and spice levels is then handed for one to choose from. Dare you try the Chicken Jalfrezi? The waiting staff and management, aware of the competition that exists, would visit every two minutes to offer their services with a hope to increase the average customer-spend on the side. Be sure to get a royal treatment while you are there because they sure are keen to keep their customers.
Before heading down to the car park, or jumping on a bus, a visit down to ‘Moonlight’ for a strawberry faluda, mango lassi or a shahi kulfi is also a necessity. Such is the importance of this part of the mission that even in sub-zero conditions with pelting rain, queues are often witnessed outside this shop, be it because of their love for the offerings or the fact that the shop barely holds ten people. For the younger and rebellious generation, ‘Rusholme’ offers more exciting alternatives; pan, sheesha, mint-tea and that is where the student-resident segregation often occurs. While the youth heads off smoke-blowing, the elderly are content at spending their money on the traditionally acceptable garma garam jalebis and the sheera-drenched rasmalai. Yum!
Be sure to have supplies ready in the car or in your bag if travelling by bus, because rush-hour in ‘Rusholme’ is deadly! Crawling single-lane with double-parking on either side; are we still in England? And if fate decides to play ‘Who’s the Daddy?’ you might end up trapped in the middle of the horde at Eid or the 14th of August. And that truly is tragic if you happen to be an innocent passerby. Abandoned vehicles, windows down, sub-woofers pumping blood, the ‘Proud Pakistani’ youth dancing to Indian bhangra in the middle, the flags, the fireworks, all that and more to the annoyance of the grieving residents. It is not the same as Tariq Road or any of Pakistan’s streets for that matter. However, this is when Curry Mile becomes truly desi, and as desi as it can get. Lights, decorations and the atmosphere and suddenly nobody cares about the racket. Well, except for the police officials of course; the unlucky ones who happened to be stationed in that place on that night. At least it is free amusement if nothing else. Never is any part of Manchester so full of energy and people, as on Eid and Independence Day, Pakistan’s that is. A photograph of the scene and the phrase ‘party like there is no tomorrow’ is explained in depth.
The British public loves it. They call it ‘wonder land’. Some even go as far as labelling it the ‘heart and soul of Manchester’. And why would they not. Experiencing a totally different culture at their doorstep, the sights, the sounds, the people, the frenzy. If it was not for ‘Rusholme’, fish and chips, bacon and sausages and tuna sandwiches would have still been popular. The word ‘bhangra’ would have sent locals into a daze and desperate search of a dictionary. And Manchester would still be known for its cotton mills. If not for the Curry Mile, the past would be the present.
And thus the Curry Mile positions itself alongside the Seven Wonders of the World. To the majority of the readers, that is just the norm. To Mancunians, who see less of the Sun than what Karachiites see of the rain, a bit of dazzle, spices and the music works wonders in the marathon to the sanity-world.
Personally, Curry Mile is to me what Disneyland is to Mickey Mouse lovers; full of life, colour and the thing I love: food. It is something that must be seen to be believed.
Oceans apart and hundreds of miles away in Manchester, England, a street is busy bubbling with activity as well as jalebis, pakoras and nihari 
