It began with Sushmita Sen and Aishwarya Rai, and Miss Universe 2000, Lara Dutta, is definitely not the last of Indias beauty queens. Thousands of small-town girls are rearing to trace their catwalk steps. Photographer Prashant Panjiar and Sutapa Mukerjee attend the Miss Lucknow contest where PYTs jostled for a space under the sun.
Newly-constructed Hotel Deep Palace would hardly be the kind of place where one would expect girls-walking-the-ramp kind of show. The road leading to it has vegetable and fish vendors crying out lazily for their wares in the mid-May afternoon heat that hangs heavy in the air. But the energy displayed by the Miss Lucknow contestants inside the hotel is unbelievable and is in stark contrast to the humid languor outside.
With four hours to go for the show, the contestants practise rigorously under their choreographers keen eye. Their test of diligence over, the girls now have to give evidence of their patience-its makeup time. Escorted by their mothers, aunts and sisters, they bustle into the green room.
Little Sameeksha is literally pushed into the room by her mamma. "Its important to get a headstart with the makeup man," the mother explains to the daughter. And this piece of motherly suggestion does come in handy, for the makeup man from Lucknow Doordarshan spends at least one-and-a-half hours to do her up.
Chatty and excited, Sameeksha finds it rather difficult to keep her poise. The 13-year-old is only too excited to share her experience in Chennai. "I loved walking the ramp there, and imagine I also won a title. All my classmates will be very happy about it." Her aunt pitches in to make up for the important point that she has missed: "Our daughter has been trained under Kaushik Ghosh." Her mother quickly explains the mans credentials: "He is the one who had trained Sushmita Sen." Suddenly, the green room is full of only Sameeksha and her doings.
This is too much to bear for Navleens mother. She retorts: "I think Ms Baby Lucknow is more befitting for your daughter." Her vitriol boomerangs because Sameekshas guardians also know how to handle such comments.
They smile back and respond: "That sounds interesting." Navleen, however, is deaf to the conversation in the room. Her college in Chandigarh has helped her develop a sense of maturity wanting in most Lucknow girls. She sits still like a statue and allows the makeup man to do his bit. As for the other contestants who wait for their turn, there could be nothing better than discussing outfits.
Finally, its curtains up. Eight of them get chosen for the final round. Save their common aspiration, they barely have anything they share. They come from vastly different backgrounds. While some are from ordinary middle-class families there are a few daughters of rich fathers and mothers who pamper them with exclusive wardrobes. Here again Sameeksha heads the list. Boasts her aunt: "We even ordered her clothes from Korea." Her mother is a mite disappointed that "they dont have a swim-suit round here, she would have been terrific in it."
While makeup artist Girish is through and done with Navleen, his companion Prem Singh is faced with a more daunting proposition-transforming a teenybopper into a woman. And with time ticking away, patience soon gives away in the little room. Screams Komal: "This is unfair. Its high time we are attended to." Their mothers almost surround the only two men in the room. Forcing them to give up their patient toiling for a more mechanical process-the foundation, the compact, the liner and the lipstick; all of its applied in quick succession.
Tension also hangs heavy in the air at Utsav, the banquet hall hired for the show. All the 122 seats are filled. The organisers have taken care to issue special invitations only. Says Pratap Chandra, the man behind the show: "Ticketing means inviting unwanted people and that can be risky." Most of the people in the crowd were the contestants relatives, save a few local vips, including a minister and a senior police official.
Meanwhile, last-minute preparations are on in room number 226 (the green room). Assistant choreographer Neeraj Sharma suddenly peers in. "There are a few gowns if you want them," he offers. "Wow!" is the response. But suddenly all spirits are dampened, "You have to pay Rs 400 as hire charges," he adds quickly.
There were six rounds for the girls to flaunt their attires. The show begins in true Lakhnawi style, the compere welcomes all by reciting Ghalibs couplets. "This style is to be seen in every contest here," says Kiran Gupta, who makes it a point to attend most of these shows. In Lucknow itself, there are at least 20 such contests taking place every year since Miss World and Miss Universe in 1995. Small-time organisers who cant afford to give titles like Miss Lucknow prefer to hold contests for titles of their mohallas. And there are scores of beauty queens going around town-from Miss Indiranagar and Miss Sadar to Miss Purana Qila. Some organisers add a dash of nawabi nostalgia to their titles-like Miss Anarkali.
According to Pratap Chandra, anything between Rs 50,000 and Rs 1 lakh is spent organising a fairly big event in Lucknow. The money primarily goes into publicity, hiring makeup men, choreographers and even auditoria and hotels. These contests are a good way to earn some publicity and promote ones business interests. Mohammed Humair acknowledges: "We earn from the sponsors who use the shows for publicity."
The profile of these contests might be low, the competitive spirit of the participants is definitely not. Vanity seems to be the name of the game in these events. Nervous waits for ones turn behind the wings has been replaced by bitter rivalry. They sometimes try to nudge their way ahead of the others.
But once on stage all emotions fade to give way to professional catwalk. The girls flutter their eyelashes, tilt their heads, swing their hips and finally flash that well-rehearsed smile with a perfect combination of coquettishness and elan.
The final round of Miss Lucknow has the girls walking in sarees. They try to carry themselves in perfect style while walking down the ramp in their brocades and silks. And while most girls have selected their sarees from their mothers wardrobe, Sameeksha flaunts an embroidered Satin silk worth Rs 18,000, bought specially for the show. The glamour exhibited by the 13-year-old has its spell on the four judges.
Tensions runs high among the guardians in the audience during the question round. Sameekshas seven-year-old cousin is praying hard: "Om nama Shivaya," he carries on as instructed by his mother. His prayers are answered because his sister, having failed to come up with an impressive answer to: "what did you want to become as a child?" still wins the crown.
Compared to her, the other two finalists are more articulate. Sameekshas crowning has tempers running high. Some of the participants even break own. They even lose all their grace. One sobs aloud: "Sali, she has definitely rigged the contest by bribing the judges." Others standing by hurl filthy expletives at the judges. And amid all this ruckus, wearing her crown, with a bouquet in her hand, Sameeksha poses stylishly for photographers.
Around her, stand her relatives, craning, elbowing and trying to get into the frame.
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