Leaving Hyderabad has been one of the toughest things in my life and living away from it, tougher. As I packed my belongings in 8or 9 odd pieces of luggage, I wondered is that all? Six years of memories, good times, bad times, time spent alone, time spent with some wonderful friends, did those bags hold them all? I looked at the small little things that came out of my cupboard as I made the final haul- a silkworm cocoon that I had picked up during a visit to a sericulture factory, garish jewellery that I had picked up at Charminar, birthday cards that my room- mates had given me and a brown bangle which I and my friend had bought near the Secunderabad Railway Station after much haggling. The bangle suddenly brought before my eyes the whole picture of the Secunderabad station vicinity- the sea of people, the honking of bus horns, the cries of the hawkers and the persistent buyers, the sirens of the trains, a complete pandemonium. Initially, the station used to be a very happy place for us; the mere sight of it brought us much closer to home. We would stay awake whole night before our journeys, packing and talking, each unable to express how happy we would be once we were home. It was true. The joy of reaching home was always great. But, as time passed, Hyderabad seemed to steal the show. As the time of visiting home approached each time, I became more and more reluctant to leave Hyderabad. And I dreaded the visit to the railway station the most this time, as I did not know when I would come back again.
I often ask myself why I was so attached to that city. I had surely met some wonderful people there and some lovely friends, but I had had good friends before too, then what was it? The answer turned out to be quite simple. The city itself. The warmth and variety that it exuded. Frankly speaking, compared to other big cities, Hyderabad is another normal city. But, it was a city that I had seen, discovered and admired in my own way. I had rediscovered the silent serenity of The Ramakrishna Math there, the soothing tranquility of a Gurudwara, the intoxicating fragrance of the “bunch of peacock feathers” in a Dargah that lingered in your hair when the fakir brushed it on your head (the visit to the Dargah requires another post). I liked the sambar, loved the biriyani and relished every sip of the Irani chai that I had in some obscure roadside cafes. I braved the over packed buses and so called seven-seaters, ( the seven seaters of Hyderabad require another post, they are very interesting), sat on the blue benches in Necklace road and watched the first monsoons arrive making numerous pimples on the face of the Hussainsagar. I attended sessions of IREF ( Islamic Research and Educational Foundation) and traditional Telugu “ pujas”, with red and yellow “kumkum” on my forehead. I had my first taste of freedom there, my first brush with a boundary less world and I learnt that there are boundaries because we create boundaries.
I was a free bird in a wonderful paradise, taking each sight, sound and smell inside me. It was also the place where I found myself transformed from a shy, a bit nervous but determined girl into a confident, self efficient girl of the world. I had always regretted the absence of my parents in Hyderabad, but if I were not alone, I would not have met myself.
Actually, I can go on & on about Hyderabad. Sorting my thoughts about the city requires a bit of time as my minds gets flooded with so many indelible experiences. Though I no longer stay there, I know there will always be a Hyderabad seen and felt by a non-hyderabadi, a Hyderabad created in her world.
Shukriya Hyderabad!!!
Salaam Hyderabad!!!
I often ask myself why I was so attached to that city. I had surely met some wonderful people there and some lovely friends, but I had had good friends before too, then what was it? The answer turned out to be quite simple. The city itself. The warmth and variety that it exuded. Frankly speaking, compared to other big cities, Hyderabad is another normal city. But, it was a city that I had seen, discovered and admired in my own way. I had rediscovered the silent serenity of The Ramakrishna Math there, the soothing tranquility of a Gurudwara, the intoxicating fragrance of the “bunch of peacock feathers” in a Dargah that lingered in your hair when the fakir brushed it on your head (the visit to the Dargah requires another post). I liked the sambar, loved the biriyani and relished every sip of the Irani chai that I had in some obscure roadside cafes. I braved the over packed buses and so called seven-seaters, ( the seven seaters of Hyderabad require another post, they are very interesting), sat on the blue benches in Necklace road and watched the first monsoons arrive making numerous pimples on the face of the Hussainsagar. I attended sessions of IREF ( Islamic Research and Educational Foundation) and traditional Telugu “ pujas”, with red and yellow “kumkum” on my forehead. I had my first taste of freedom there, my first brush with a boundary less world and I learnt that there are boundaries because we create boundaries.
I was a free bird in a wonderful paradise, taking each sight, sound and smell inside me. It was also the place where I found myself transformed from a shy, a bit nervous but determined girl into a confident, self efficient girl of the world. I had always regretted the absence of my parents in Hyderabad, but if I were not alone, I would not have met myself.
Actually, I can go on & on about Hyderabad. Sorting my thoughts about the city requires a bit of time as my minds gets flooded with so many indelible experiences. Though I no longer stay there, I know there will always be a Hyderabad seen and felt by a non-hyderabadi, a Hyderabad created in her world.
Shukriya Hyderabad!!!
Salaam Hyderabad!!!
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