The Samajwadi Party alone has chosen to not base itself on Mall Avenue. Its office is on Kalidas Marg, a stone's throw away from Chief Minister Mulayam Singh's home.
Around a dozen television vans are parked on the road outside as many cameras are set up and waiting. Among the reporters, the buzz is that Mulayam Singh will, sometime this afternoon, drive to Raj Bhavan to tender the resignation of his government.
Till that happens, there is nothing to do but just hang around. On the opposite side of the road, there are half a dozen party booths set up. All of them have tables bearing heaps of party flags and posters, most of them still inside plastic covers. Five of them are empty of volunteers; in a sixth, a young boy and his even younger siblings lounge around in chairs. Keeping them company is one lone policeman, busy eating a plateful of fruit.
The area is so bereft of life that the sole commercial enterprise -- a roadside cart containing melons, papayas and assorted other fruit, which the policeman had just patronised -- decides to pack up and head off to more fruitful pastures.
Further down the road is the chief minister's official residence, and it is a no-go zone. We drive slowly through the barricades; I get out of the car hoping to take pictures of -- what? A desolate road, a tight shut gate, a lone pedestrian, a couple of dozen policemen sheltering under an awning...
I am immediately surrounded by policemen, wanting to know what I am doing there. Taking pictures? For which channel? Oh, Internet? Aapka shub naam? Rukiye zara. (What's your good name? Please stop.)
I wait in the blazing sun while two of the policemen vanish through the gate. The others ask me what the latest news is, and is it true that Mayawati will form the next government on her own...
Achcha hai, one of them tells me, abhi to in goondon ka raaj to khatam hoga! Saalon ne hamaara jeena haraam kar diya tha... (At least, the rule of the goons will end. They had made our lives miserable.')
Fifteen minutes later, the two policemen emerge; the gate shuts behind them. Andar koyi nahin hai (No one's inside), they tell me.
That's okay, can I shoot a few pix from here?
Nahin saab, mana kar diya hai. (They have refused permission.)
I thank them, and go about my business. Around me, on the roads of Lucknow, the locals are doing the same thing -- minding their own business, unmindful of the "momentous" events unfolding around them.
Image: Outside Mulayam Singh Yadav's residence. Mulayam has had to face a bitter defeat in this election.
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