The Charminar on Ramzan eve

The Charminar, Hyderabad’s trademark monument, is unlike other iconic monuments you have seen elsewhere.  Serving as a rotary around a U-turn in the middle of a heavily congested predominantly Muslim locality – it presents an explostion of experience on the Ramzan eve. The intermittent showers had kept my camera indoors. Pictures or videos would not have captured the platter of delight – words are needed anyway.

The evening prayers had just finished when I landed there. The street leading to it were adorned with two lanes, totaling four rows, of makeshift stalls selling almost everything the visitor might buy on the festive eve: from haleem to underwear, surma to beef, lime soda to buckets, jewellery to banana chips. The new shops are in addition to the two rows of permanent shops along the street. Nobody was idle – and huddles of entropy swarmed chaotically, jamming everything else. The parking attendant was auctioning parking slots.

The mild drizzle had not made any difference. Till a brief spurt of heavier shower made the place almost vacant in less than a minute. A thela of chocolate wafers was lying across one of the streets when the owner, a lad of 13-14 ran back to cover it.  The rain was gone already – he swore and slapped his forehead. No one noticed, as he was in business in a few minutes.

There were unusually high number of burquas today. Burquas were more common around sellers of clothes and leather items. A bevy in all black, probably wives or daughters of one man, with just slits to see, carried exact replicas of pink shining vanity bags. They tried cheap jewellery at the street corner, with a middle aged bearded man in guard. A fair and tall Middle Eastern man with sharp features, wearing a traditional white robe roamed around, accompanied by a strikingly beautiful fair woman in a colorful attire, covering everything but her face. They behaved like European tourists,  keeping a safe distance from anything filthy.

It must be a paradise for Pickpockets and shoplifters. Petty snatchers made hay in the gloom and crowd. More organized schemes involve fake Haleem delivery boys with a fake badge with a fake name and ID number. A gentleman shouting at the shop owner had paid the tout real money – to avoid the fistfight at the queue for haleem. A real delivery boy does not earn a salary – he earns only the tip – about 5 rupees for a hundred rupee portion, from every second customer. After some futile bargaining, I bought a knit skullcap, to feel as one with the everything else. With my skullcap on, I savored some Haleem after generously tipping the sweet and honest delivery boy. He was keen to go but I asked him how it was so tasty. His master rears his own goats, feeds them with his own hands, and before cooking the recipe, butchers them himself. “That is what makes it so tasty”.

An old beggar woman on a walker repeatedly reinforced the frown on her face. She has made hay too. Unlike practicing Muslims fasting for the month, she fasts for 10 months.  And unlike practicing Muslims who enjoy goodies for a day, her whole month of evening goodies has climaxed today. I don’t know why I enjoyed watching this circus of man’s most profound invention – and perhaps his worst. I may crib about it, but I cannot ignore it.

Srisailam

Warning: Not for the strong faithed
This piece only discusses the magic of the Srisailam temple. There is a scenic dam and reservoir too. But all that is too clichéd.

In Hyderabad it is widely accepted as the ‘only good place’ in the vicinity worth visiting. A ride to this abode of Shiva takes about 5 to 6 hours from Hyderabad and is pretty scenic. And you will ride through plains, forests and hills over State Highways which are pretty well maintained by Indian standards.

We had pre-booked the APTDC hotel which is a few blocks from the temple. It had uniformly unmaintained rooms with nice views of the adjacent building on all sides. They will leave you to yourself and will not disturb you with room service or cleaning, as long as you stay. The attached ‘restaurant’ serves ‘complimentary’ breakfast of the holy trinity of idly, vada and upma. The lunch you may buy is also the classic South India thali prepared with an extra touch of salt and red chili powder. Veg of course, that’s implicit! There is a Canteen near the temple – which serves much better food. But get your food packed – unless you want to witness how hygiene is ravished.

Srisailam overflows with the typical Hindu obsession with cows and cow dung. It is just not possible to walk without stepping on one of those blackish heaps. I could see cows even inside the temple complex. If you somehow manage to dodge a cow you will bump on a beggar; or someone selling overly colourful overpriced booklets of Bronze Age stories in various languages. The sidewalks are cluttered with the vastly popular fortune tellers who otherwise look like hippies, and have a wingless parrot crammed into a 4 inch cage, which pulls out a dirty brown card of fate from a stack. We surely need more beef eaters; and since I cannot possibly ask for more cannibals, a serious drive on vasectomy.

Roads from all sides to the temple complex are blocked by low gates to stop all vehicles, leaving only the pedestrian ways free on both sides. The guard was confronting a brand new car which had just been administered some holy scribbling as well as paintings of various gods on all its windows including windscreen, rendering them virtually opaque. The barefooted guard ultimatey prevailed, and saved the temple from that car. One bystander asked him something – and he nodded – it was clear no car is allowed. He had barely seated himself that he stood up again in a salute. Lo! A white Mercedes with a beacon was waiting on the temple side of the gate. After he attended it, I asked if that was ‘an aircraft’. He nodded again. I do not know why.

On both side of the roads there are shops of various sizes, but all of them selling exactly the same items, which are used to bribe deities. There is a strong positive correlation between how much you spend and how much of luck you can earn. No wonder the Mercedes people are so lucky. Finding a grocer or medic will be tough; his shop too will be selling the bribe-ware on the front row.

It was worth going inside the temple – to experience the real connect. A group of devotees, about 50 in number, unkempt except for their newly made white clothes, were seated on the ground around the gate – and infinitely repeating a devotional sentence. Most of them were enjoying it, in fact, having fun. While howling on, they were keeping tab on the aunties and sisters around. Some played with their mobile phones.

At the temple you may buy privileged darshan at a cost which allows short cuts to the deities, and a free one which requires you to stand at least for a few hours in a stenchy filthy zigzag queue guided by a mesh of metal nets.

We took neither – and bribed our way in. As a result we got a Nepalese guard who guided us through. During the entry to the narrow pathway overlooking sanctum sanctorum, you will be fitted into the longer queue. Then onwards you need not bother about moving – the mass of humanity will guide you. Shrieks, cries, shouts, moans, pushes, punches, smells and gasps will drown your sanity. Children barely understand the magic this peril will bring to their lives and were uniformly uncooperative. Except for one I saw sleeping – probably she has passed out in this magic spell.

I felt like one with the world.

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To address the most obvious question that you may ask: Why did a filthy atheist like me go there?

1. Someone had to write this up. Devotion overlooks details. Ain’t the details funny?
2. To see more clichéd stuff too
3. To see a lovely rainbow on my way back
4. To drive 500 km in 3 days

Guesstory

We love to anticipate. You must have read this remarkable article about Starbucks’ entry to India: http://wapo.st/zht8bA

When Indian fashion jewellery major “Bodylove” decided to open their first series of stores in the United States, we too wondered what they will offer to suite the taste of the Big Apple. And our survey and experts came up with this awesome list of suggestions:

• Cool n Funky: For the fashion conscious – Platinum eyebrow nails, with complimentary Ribbed Gold lip rings. Also available on special request – miscellaneous unprintable piercing jewellery.
• Underground: Targetting the rich liberated juvinile, real Gold plated guns with silver bullets
• For the Gamers: Gold plated football helmet with “This ain’t no soccer” embossed
• Dirty stuff: Various unprintable clothes with gold buckles and weapons dedicated to the Gods of the Blue
• Nirvana: Gold plated dispenser needles, with complimentary snuff spout
• Stake: This one’s a surprise entry – a model of a golden F-16 Hornet with 2  lines written below: “Duniya ka Theeka” written in Devnagiri script, and “We love America” in English
• And lastly for everyone: A celebration of pure racism – black and white … er… Gold and platinum striped special edition of the star spangled banner

Oh yes! We all knew great America is all about racism, guns, drugs, and paedophiles.

Hyderabad

This is my second stay in Hyderabad. Thanks to my wife and daughter, this time I really got to know the city.

Hyderabad is one of the least xenophobic cities in India. In addition to the native Telugu speakers, the presence of a large Urdu speaking population creates an all pervading balance. Tolerance after all is a learnt phenomenon – not  seen in two types of people. Those who could not learn it. And those who cannot. The first is of course caused by extreme  statistical homogeneity. The second is called xenophobia. Hyderabadis are none of them and this makes settling here  much easier. Albeit, peace in recent times has been injured by some divisive political hunters.

Chandrababu Naidu mapped Hyderabad to the global IT map about a decade back. While fortune has since turned tables on him, the IT revolution has made a profound global impact on Hyderabad, at least on the names here. Cyber, Tech, Silicon and International comes up in almost all contexts, be it localities, malls, residential societies, hotels, restaurants or schools. But they seem to follow the old adage: “What’s in a name …. “. If you see foreigners, the whites I mean, in other parts of India, a good bet is that they will be tourists. In Hyderabad, chances are that they live here with their families. They huge presence of  global technology giants is the only reason, since the rest of the parameters of living fail to impress.

This uneven city’s infrastructure is mostly makeshift. There is no standard common man taxi service like the bigger metros, although costlier private ones are available in plenty. Pesky autoriskshaws also ply, usually too overloaded to board, each wearing a meter which was never used. The dirty government bus services frequently – and recent additions have been cleaner AC services. Hyderabad does not have a Metro but it seems to be coming up – as I often  see hoarding boards declaring acquired land.   Most of the city’s roads are of low to moderate in quality. There are  a lot of  flyovers already in place, and some waiting for the right political moment to be inaugurated – sometimes for years altogether. The elevated fraction of Hyderabad is inhabited aptly by the rich – the politicians and film stars. And obviously the roads are nicer.

The traffic police is usually very touchy about vehicles registered in other states. You may buy your innocence with that  occasional bribe, or more legibly by paying a life-time road tax for your vehicle. The toughest problem you will face while driving in Hyderabad is the result of the compulsive obsession of the random pedestrians to cross roads. They appear any time and everywhere, even on flyovers, ignoring  vehicles, or may be the road altogether. Some are gracious to show some heavenly hint of a raised hand which they believe will magically save them from anything untoward. Few who care to notice you display a signature jerk, another heavenly gesture hinting at their intention to cross over. They repeat the gesture with an increased frequency … until you are past them, or give in. Among my other niche driving experiences has been a guy  who was tying his shoelace in the middle of the road – exactly the middle of the road. You cannot just blame the pedestrians for being irresponsible. All the city’s roads are devoid of any fenced divider which will discourage this, or enough footbridges or pedestrian crossings which will encourage good habits. Though wearing helmets is most probably banned in Hyderabad, you will find a very few bikers flouting it.

The new state of the art airport has a surprisingly innovative name and is connected to the city by a ring road with as much innovative a name. No wonder us Indians are so obsessed with idol worship,  in  Hyderabad idolatry reaches epic proportions.  Tollywood idols or  politicians often have followers immolating themselves at the slightest pretext. The explanation is most often: “You people will never understand!”.

You will have two water supplies at your apartment. The strange tasting borewell water is meant for common use, and the treated Manjira water is always in short supply. Most apartment have gas banks and nice piped gas supply. Power outages are frequent, and there is a very predictable one in the early morning hours in my locality. The backup generator in my society takes about 15 minutes to get started – the same time the security takes to wake up the guy who turns it on.

Malls are the most common hangouts in Hyderabad, and till date we have liked Inorbit the most. Hyderabad probably has the highest density of jewelers in India. Pearl is the specialty which outsiders buy more often, while relatively massive gold jewelry is more popular locally. The sludgy and stenchy Hussain Sagar Lake has a number spots of public interest along its necklace, though most of these are prohibitively over-visited. The Hyderabad zoo has relatively healthy looking animals, if you compare them with the Delhi Zoo, for instance. For some reason, most of the zoo visitors are from poor Muslim households, and there will be a flood of Burqas around you. The zoo has a nice drive-in and ride-around options. While a 70 km drive to the airport and back is the best long drive available, a relatively unspoiled visitors-delight is the Osman Sagar or Gandipet, accessible from the same road.

The Old City around the Char Minar is an old world delight. It is already very congested – and Ramzan makes it even more congested. 24 hour makeshift stalls, six rows of them, come up on the narrow adjoining streets, selling everything from jewellery  to chocolate wafers,  sherwani-s to beef korma. It was raining lightly the evening I went there, and it was an utterly overwhelming experience, deserving a dedicated description which I am yet to complete.

Our driver being a Muslim makes it much easier to communicate with him. A young lad in his early twenties, he knows the city like the back of his hand. But everything comes at a cost – he is overtly religious, and requires a compulsory break on Friday afternoons. The service workers available for household work are mostly Telugu people and it is only gestures which comes to our rescue in dealing with them. Some speak very accented Hindi, which is as good as my Telugu. We have experienced six of them in six months. While most of them work exceptionally costly, fast and dirty: one used to steal, another was lazy, and another was a mentally unstable clean maniac – once cleaning my fridge with sand paper.

Non-vegetarianism is more prevalent here than in most parts of India. The ethnic Telugu cuisine – tangy with tamarind, spiced with curry leaves and hot with Guntur chillies is a treat. People here have an affair with salt, like Bengalis with sweets. This may be the reason of the huge number of “Salt Monster” Ads I see around the city. My real culinary delight came from the cuisine influenced by Hyderabad’s Islamic past – the fusion formula for the Biryani, with some  Telugu influence. There are plenty of restaurants serving every pocket – but be sure to expect a mild Telugu flavor in almost everything. For a pure Islamic preparation try the awesome dish called haleem, available only during the Ramzan in Muslim localities.

The terribly dirty NIMS is the most reputed hospital in the city. Try the Private OPDs in the afternoons when  you will  find  senior doctors of repute. The cleaner Apollo is more frequented by techies and Middle Eastern medical tourists, where you should be ready to pay extra for their jazzy advertisements.  Other than the salt monster, another noteworthy fact is that every second hospital in Hyderabad is a Dental Hospital. I am yet to know the specific factor which makes people living here so prone to tooth diseases, although I suspect it is salt. Too many dental colleges may be yet another reason.

Having stayed in Delhi for the last five years — I was relieved to be in a place where you may use public transport without getting molested, or graze someone’s car and not risk being killed on the road. Yes I am talking only relatively.  And again talking relatively, I do miss the grandeur of Delhi. There is a small town smell in the air.

Oh Calcutta!

One of my friends once asked me, “Is it true that there is a Bandh in Calcutta if the tram fares go up by 10 paise?”
This is what remains of the character of the soul City of the Bengali people. And this is not all propaganda.

From what was once “the Second City of the British Empire”, it has descended to a overcrowded unplanned chaos, strewn with shanties and black sludge canals, hawker encroached roads and sidewalks, shabby public vehicles, bumpy roads, ill-panned shaky humps (locally called “fly-overs”), effectively, a provincial capital of insignificant political, economic and even (ever diminishing) cultural importance.

And inhabited by mostly old and middle aged Bengalis whose children work elsewhere. Thanks to a political climate which breeds everything that I mentioned, and in addition works hard to repel the honest and hard working, the enterprising and intelligent. The stinginess has got imbibed into the culture because the City has turned into a old age home. People think twice before spending their hard saved money, in a place without ventures, opportunities and hope. Almost all business houses have left the turbulence. Post Offices dealing with deposits and monthly interest based income schemes have turned the most popular means of income.

A place where people have stopped dreaming, and having ambitions, this is a common sight: young people sitting at street corners doing nothing other than eve teasing and playing cards, day long. Some of the more enterprising believe in landing a job as the most important aim of their lives. Forget about working, they enjoy the gherao and Bandh culture. Who would like to work if it were perfectly legible to earn, whatever meagre, without working. People, in a way savor a Friday Bandh, if not a Monday one. There are no shortage of issues and there are no shortage of people to enforce the calls. Newcomers desperate to impress their political bosses ambush even ambulances and fire tenders.

There is not a single hospital of repute. And those which are there are heaps of filth, layers of protocols and infested with crooks. And of course the doctors readily see patients, but in his private chamber. At the hospital, the most brilliant suggestion would be “Referred to Vellore”. Means in plain language, “please take him away, or we will not be responsible!”.

Religion flows in a controlled stream. Godmen, squint or otherwise, are a little more popular, in daily terms, than Gods. It is true that fanaticism is less apparent in Bengalis than elsewhere in India. However, the religiosity is more intense than it should have been: the pragmatic young have mostly left. Religion comes with its own bonus of ills, which thanks to the steady decline in the intellectual caliber, is catching up. People are surely learning more charming stuff.

Tagore flows. Not in their hearts, but to the gutter of experimentation and misappropriation. Tagore is a lone hope, and with little of the talented intellectual left in these gutters, Bengalis love clinging to his beard. The way to demonestrate this is by arranging shoddy and makeshift evenings of Rabindra, Nazrul, Sukanta and what-not geeti. I always thought sharing Tagore with anyone else is sheer felony. Cheapness of His people caught up with Him after all.

Educational institutions and the Education system have been destroyed, with medical precision. Syllabi of the state boards have stagnated in the ’60s while Dilli boards (by the way, even Bihar board) has moved on. I marvelled why they never taught us the vacuum diodes at IIT, which had a heavy boring chapter in the HS syllabus.

A Bengali, who prides his language, culture, and cuisine, Calcutta often visits my heart. I was not born there, neither brought up, nor lived there long enough. But I could realize the central stream of my Bengali being passing through the City. Bengalis cannot be without the City. My bias to look as the darker side of things may be due to the fact that I did not give the sloth enough time to set in. The insiders have no idea how far things have moved on, elsewhere. Wake up Calcutta! We yearn to see Bengalis known in Delhi as bhadroloks, and not maids or drivers or rickshaw pullers.

The ruling communists have always whined about bias from the Centre. And the immature opposition have always blamed the communists, turning off any lights that caught their eye. If there is a political conspiracy for the plight of this great City, it must have been framed by each of those shoddy, shortsighted, hopeless and unscrupulous representatives that the people have elected at every election, communist or otherwise.