Mango Mania Turns to Mayhem: Lucknow’s Tehzeeb Takes a Fruity Fall

TEHZEEB LUCKNAVI  I LUCKNOW

In a city famed for centuries for its tehzeeb—the refined etiquette makes Lucknow the Paris of the East—the grand finale of the annual Mango Festival turned into a riotous spectacle that left the Rajdhani of RamRajya looking more like a Bollywood heist comedy than a bastion of Lucknavi ada. The event, meant to celebrate the king of fruits, ended with citizens looting mangoes with a gusto that would make even the most seasoned nawab blush.

Held at the sprawling Aam Aadmi Park (the irony is thicker than mango pulp), the festival was a love letter to Uttar Pradesh’s pride: the succulent mango. Stalls brimmed with Dussehri, Langra, and the aristocratically named Chausa, drawing thousands of fruit aficionados, foodies, and influencers chasing #MangoMagic clout.

The air hummed with the sweet scent of mangoes and tales of Lucknavi ada—stories of nawabs who’d offer guests the choicest mango with a poetic flourish, or hosts who’d rather starve than let a visitor leave without a fruit-filled farewell. A local MLA, never one to miss a photo-op, declared mangoes “the soul of RamRajya,” linking them to Lord Rama’s utopian rule.

But as the sun dipped on the final day, Lucknow’s storied tehzeeb took a backseat to raw mango mania. It started innocently: a free mango-tasting session to showcase the state’s horticultural glory. Organizers, clearly unfamiliar with the chaos a free Dussehri can unleash in a city where mangoes spark family feuds, were caught off guard when a crowd larger than a free biryani queue surged forward. Chanting “Aam Zindabad!” with cricket-match fervor, attendees abandoned all traces of ada for a full-blown fruit frenzy.

What followed was a masterclass in mayhem. Men in kurtas, women in sarees, and kids clutching mango-shaped balloons dove into stalls, grabbing armfuls of the golden loot. One uncle, channeling his inner nawab, stuffed mangoes into his pockets, muttering about “preserving heritage.” A viral X video showed teenagers juggling mangoes while dodging security, a far cry from the delicate ada of yore.  Even the MLA, who’d waxed lyrical about mangoes’ divine unity, was spotted with a suspiciously bulging bag, claiming it was for “official inspection.”

The police, armed with lathis and nostalgia for Lucknow’s genteel past, were powerless against the mango-mad mob. “This is Lucknow, saab,” sighed Inspector R.K. Sharma, wiping juice off his uniform.  “Tehzeeb is for kebabs, not free mangoes.” By dusk, the stalls were emptier than a nawab’s treasury post-British rule, the grounds littered with peels and shattered dreams of decorum.

X exploded with memes, one dubbing it “The Great Mango Mutiny of 2025,” another lamenting, “Lucknow’s tehzeeb lasted centuries but fell to a free Dussehri.” Organizers, blaming “overzealous fruit lovers,” vowed tighter security next year—perhaps with mango-sniffing dogs. Yet, in this city of ada, the looting was less greed and more a testament to Lucknow’s undying love for mangoes, where even the politest nawab might trade tehjeeb for a perfectly ripe Chausa.