notes from a fort2012-03-24T23:14:57+00:00lifetype-1.2.12_r7211http://blogs.fullhyderabad.com/rss.php?blogId=786&profile=atomCopyright (c) Arizaspeaktag:blogs.fullhyderabad.com,2012-03-24:6068Why I dont own a Bentley2012-03-24T23:14:57+05:30
Once I loved spotting birds. That must have been long ago from this wednesday when I spotted one on the begumpet road and then again at cinemax. Only this bird was called THE Rolls Royce with a ...Arizaspeak
Politics
Once I loved spotting birds. That must have been long ago from this wednesday when I spotted one on the begumpet road and then again at cinemax. Only this bird was called THE Rolls Royce with a spirit of ecstasy on it.
It was a mythical bird once, long back when I was still a kid. It was the kind of stuff fathers told sons, a generational itch that passed on. As a kid I was told about its engineering, about how exclusive it was - no really - how very exclusive & subjective it was and then how, perhaps NO ONE in India owned it. If you have heard such a story, you will understand why I am writing about spotting two in a day.
I told my colleagues about it and they, carrying perhaps similar mythologies in their individual (sub?)consciousness, were happy for me.
- "Two! Is it!" One of them asked.
- Yes
- I wonder who owns the other one?
- Do you own one? I asked at the familiar "other-one" joke.
- Ha...ha very funny. I know Chiranjeevi owns one.
- He does.... is it?
- Yes.
So the mythical bird nests here too now. Is that better? Perhaps now I can catch it too. My friend showed me a picture of Chiranjeevi in his Rolls Royce. Perhaps this is what I saw?
Years ago, I would have given anything to see Megastar Chiranjeevi. Now, it was his car - my father's dream - a Rolls Royce.
I wonder if he, Chiranjeevi, knows what he owns? Does he really really know? Or is it an enlarged ego that is on display? Sir, get a Rolls Royce. No one will think you small then. Amitabh's got one. Sir, you are THE MEGASTAR.
What about the engineering? The exclusivity.
Then again, perhaps thinking like that has ensured I only talk about spotting a Rolls Royce. The pressure of knowing how bloody great that damn machine is, has made me idealize it - grow in awe of it. Any crush you have ever had will teach you such idolizing is bad. But, Chiranjeevi doesnt care and thats why he's got it. I would care too much and so I dont have it. It is a perfect equation. What use is god if I cant pray for a Rolls Royce to him. He'd be useless to me. He is keeping his usefulness this way. Yes.
Unfortunately, I extended my mythology. Oh yes! Greedy greedy Ariza thought about Bentleys, Mercedes, Audis and the Buggatis. Thats why, perhaps I'll never own a Bentley.
tag:blogs.fullhyderabad.com,2011-11-15:5905Eat Salt only2011-11-15T23:09:14+05:30 We live in a country
soaked in taxes. Ever notice how much you pay in taxes?
Take a normal day in
anyone’s life.
Wake up and brush: VAT
on tooth brushes & pastes ...Arizaspeak
Politics
We live in a country
soaked in taxes. Ever notice how much you pay in taxes?
Take a normal day in
anyone’s life.
Wake up and brush: VAT
on tooth brushes & pastes
Take a bath: VAT on
soaps / shampoos
Cook a breakfast: Tax
on Gas / ingredients of your sparse breakfast
Drive to work: Tax on
Petrol / Road tax on car
Slog-your-heart-out at
work: Tax Deducted at Source
Drive back home tired
: House tax on the home
May-be-have-a-drink:
Excise duty (or customs depending on your taste)
Browse the net for a
while: VAT on telecom
Sleep: Service charge
on doctor’s fees if you cant!
I get worried summing these
random scraps of tax. How much will they add up to? Because it doesn’t end
there – does it? I haven’t visited a restaurant / or even contemplated flying
to Delhi to see my mother. They’ll
charge your brains out for thinking of doing something sinful like flying.
For, it is a sinful
indulgence to think of living. Long long ago... when our country was young...
the idealistic old men who thought up laws in spare time decided that the
country must be responsible for its less fortunate. Nothing wrong with that!
But they decided that this support can only be funded by taxing the rich. Tax
the rich and distribute it to the poor. Robin-hood and all that.
So are you and I rich?
I am not. May be the folks who own fullhyd are. But back when laws were as new
as the fresh paint on Titanic rich was someone who earned a few thousands. It
was a time, ask your grandmother, when Jalebees
cost 10ps. But something happened. Most of the country – for no fault of theirs
– grew up and like any grown-ups they began to earn more than their parents. But
parents never grow up. Government – the ultimate parent didn’t – and did what any parent would do - punish deviant children It means anyone who
earns above 3000 a month is rich and hence must be taxed.
Now most decent chaps wouldn’t
even complain at being squelched under taxes. IF they had something to show for this! Look
around you. Roads, electricity, food, water, petrol, gas etc etc none of these justify the taxes we pay.
One of the problems of
democracy is that while it apparently seems to benefit ALL, look closer and you’ll
find that ALL is almost never anyone. Let me demonstrate. So your taxes are
supposed to pay
FOR ALL EDUCATION OF CHILDREN BELOW THE AGE OF 14.
Who is this ALL? The rich will send their children to schools with ACs that
charge taxes – so they are ruled out. Middle class emulates the rich so they
are ruled out. Poor class / the have-nots whose children are supposed to be
attending municipal schools – schools that have no roofs / whose teachers are
never paid on time / whose play grounds are encroached / whose text books are
mis-appropriated and finally whose mid day meal schemes are rife with
corruption. So now lets revisit the statement. Education for ALL. Who is ALL?
None. Next time you assuage your
conscience by paying taxes – think again!
Ever heard those stories
with tyrant kings who taxed their populace to plagues / hunger and death? Ever
heard of Gandhiji’s Salt Satyagraha to not pay taxes on essentials? Our tyrants are many. They are elected every 5
years but never change. Gandhiji’s salt is perhaps the only commodity left
untaxed. Eat salt! Only!
tag:blogs.fullhyderabad.com,2011-10-17:5870Plugged In2011-10-17T19:45:25+05:30
I feel lost without my iPhone. Then when I have satiated
myself with the incredible touch-screen, I feel lost without my laptop, this
writing device I am currently using. When spent here I ...Arizaspeak
Internet
I feel lost without my iPhone. Then when I have satiated
myself with the incredible touch-screen, I feel lost without my laptop, this
writing device I am currently using. When spent here I will feel lost without
the television, the internet, the music player, the DVD player, the wireless
transmitter in my car, my tablet. Each one calls to me, each undressing itself
in the dark and drawing me with the promise of unspoken elementary
delights.
I am not alone.
Sitting around on a Saturday night, a group of friends are having a good
time. There is liquor, munchies and a pleasant conversation relayed around.
Tune in closer and you’ll notice a pattern. All our cell phones – touch phones -
are drawn. One of them reads aloud his
observation:
“A Sierpinski Gasket is a fractal endless triangle. You can write an algorithm to create a
Sierpinski Gasket. It was used by the writer David Foster Wallace as the
pattern for his famous book Infinite Jest ”
Isn’t it clever? A purely
intellectual undertaking! But look closer… and try getting into the mind of the
person who is reading this detail. An accountant by profession – what is he
doing talking about a Sierpinski Gasket?
Just then he sheaths back the touch phone and forgets all about this
Sierpinski Gasket. Yet for a brief while there he was the master of fractals.
Whats wrong with that?
In the natural world some creatures live for briefest of
times. Perhaps a butterfly only lives (as a butterfly ofcourse, not pupae or a
caterpillar) for a couple of days. And who cares how long love-birds live? An
inventory of such animals might just reveal that 90% of the world lives for
less than a day. Yet Humans value eternity – the idea that things should last
forever. This includes knowledge. We demand that knowledge should be permanent.
Why?
Here is a random list of things from anyone’s day.
1.
News
2.
Gossip
3.
Facebook posts
4.
Twitter posts
5.
Work-Deadlines
6.
Orgasms
And this is the percentage of time
I spend chasing these?
1.
News – 10%
2.
Gossip -
15%
3.
Facebook posts – 10% and increasing
4.
Twitter posts – I do read about Amitabh Bachchan’s
Twitter post – 5%
5.
Work-Deadlines – 70%
6.
Orgasms – J
Yes most of this stuff dies on
touch. But isn’t it pleasurable to reach
out and feel them there? That they exist? That is why I need my iPhone, iPad,
my lap-top or even my TV! That is why
they draw me everywhere – at work, at home, while driving, in the lift and heck
– even in the toilet. Not plugged in means I am loosing knowledge – about something
that just happened in the world, something that happened with Priyanka Chopra,
with my friends, with my colleagues as they chip away at yet another daily
deadline and with the world of erotica that is being augmented everyday in
geometric proportion.
And then suddenly they all stopped
working. Together! For no particular reason I was cut off from the rest of the
world. Condemned to exile! How could I ever catch up on 24 hrs??? How can I get
back the chance to be most commented on face book posts again – catch up on all
the new stuff that Reuters, New York Times, The Hindu published. I was lost,
lost….
But I live…. Time’s ticking. Steve
Jobs died that day, and the world – without me reading or commenting on it - moved
on.
tag:blogs.fullhyderabad.com,2011-10-09:5857Any Old October2011-10-09T01:40:59+05:30
There is a dull candor around town now-a-days. It is the color of cement. And its been painted on the sky, hiding the bright blue skies of any other October.
Last Sunday an ...Arizaspeak
Hyderabad
There is a dull candor around town now-a-days. It is the color of cement. And its been painted on the sky, hiding the bright blue skies of any other October.
Last Sunday an Aunt (who settled) in Guntur called. I asked her why she wasnt here?
"Werent you supposed to be here a week ago?"
Brief silence and then "You Telangana folks dont want us!"
What?
She had started and had been stalled somewhere en-route and the scared bus driver decided to turn back. I told her that we in Hyderabad are absoutely fine - working normal days. It was a class lie used by someone who doesnt need need the RTC-Bus.
"Thats because you are a local!" she said. We are bad people there.
I felt the line, not as the boundary between Telangana and Andhra but between you and us. But this is a sign of times, a will of the majority, a change inevitable - my aunt must accept it and so should I. That doesnt mean we shouldnt feel sad about it. When did movements become this unkind - that they should rob us even the feeling of genuine loss?
But that was last Sunday. Today we were with a real estate agent. I needed a flat I asked him in the local language. We laughed and spoke, he warming up to a business idea and me wanting to bargain. Thus far any normal business transaction. Until amidst some jokes he asked me:
"Where are you from?"
"Born and brought up in Hyderabad."
Did I not understand the question "I mean" he insisted "where are your parents from - Andhra or Telangana?"
How did it matter? I thought and said so. Later, outside, I wondered if I really was that naive! Ofcourse it mattered to the agent and thats why he asked me. I blew my chances by not committing. But then again wouldnt my answer depend on which side he is on? Shouldnt I be Andhra origin for Andhra folks and Telangana for people from here. But then again - why did he want to know? Does he maintain a list and will he mark my home with a cross - to be burned by the 40 thieves. How can I blend in?
These are tough days to be a Hyderabadi - striked against, boycotted, hounded in and bullied. Perhaps it is a time of a revolution - but if it helps remember that the sky hasnt been cemented in. It is still blue, still any old October.
tag:blogs.fullhyderabad.com,2011-10-01:5836Where have all the leaders gone?2011-10-01T23:32:30+05:30
Is it just my wish
a memory of my naive heart
Sepia tinted heroes who walk out
of ancient forgotten words
Where was ever such a time
When one stepped ahead of many
Herded the ...Arizaspeak
Hyderabad
Is it just my wish
a memory of my naive heart
Sepia tinted heroes who walk out
of ancient forgotten words
Where was ever such a time
When one stepped ahead of many
Herded the flock and
Corrected the awry
Where has he gone?
Oh! Where has he gone!
Now the hyenas roam the naked night
Bare, baying and tearing my flock
The lions are gone –they are dead
It is the time of the scavengers now.
tag:blogs.fullhyderabad.com,2011-08-13:5791My Disillusionment with Dr. Manmohan Singh2011-08-13T19:52:31+05:30
In
the first year of UPA-I I received a mail from an admirer of Prime Minister
Manmohan Singh.” Look at this resume” it said and went on to list his unbelievable ...Arizaspeak
Politics
In
the first year of UPA-I I received a mail from an admirer of Prime Minister
Manmohan Singh.” Look at this resume” it said and went on to list his unbelievable
series of achievements. Professor, Delhi
School of Economics, and Governor, Reserve Bank of India was amongst them. “He
is your prime-minister” it said down at the end, “most qualified man for the
job!.” Remember, this was when America had elected George W Bush once and was all
set to elect him again. It made me feel proud in comparison and somewhere
unsaid was this feeling that in its own bungling way the Indian Democratic
system worked well. Which Board of Directors wouldn’t employ Dr. Manmohan
Singh? The miracle was that most of our country, including folks who couldn’t
read, somehow democratically ended up with a man best qualified to be the
prime-minister.
And
yet if we were to have elections tomorrow, I would gladly vote the
prime-minister out. This is in part a about my own disillusionment.
It
couldn’t have been a better equation. An economist, the scholar, would be
prime-minister and take care of running the country. Behind him, keeping him
away from the rot of politics would be madam, a generational politician from
the country’s most political family. He would draft us laws perfect and
balanced and she would ensure they pass through the labyrinth of political
motivations/demands. He would choose qualified ministers and she would get them
the political backing. How ideal it all seemed! And like ideals it possessed a
way of screwing reality in, painfully twisting it on its way down. There was never a neat division of labor,
instead a muddled force of ambition and intention. For example:
Do
we really know who – madam or PM – was behind the fateful 9 th
December 2009 T-decision?
Why
do ministers talk to 10 Janpath when they resign?
Yes
we know it was the prime-minister who decided to go through with the nuclear
deal but did he also decide the political implications – of left leaving UPA I?
There
is enough commentary to argue one way or the other but isn’t confusion a rule
than just an extreme exception?
What
is surprising is that even the council of ministers seem just as confused. Who
grants favors?
This
is the result of confusion, not the reason and any first year graduate will
tell you that confusion at the top of management means muddled mess at the
bottom.
Walking
into the mayhem of Lehman brothers in 2008 I, along with the rest of the
country, was secure. India’s collective consciousness recognized that an economist
was the prime minister: His team – Montex Singh Ahuwalia, Dr. C Rangarajan,
Chidambaram etc.
In 1930’s FDR had to appoint JM Keynes to help solve the economic mess of his country. India in 2008, didn’t need to, because our JM Keynes was the prime minister! I expected us to weather the storm, yes, and perhaps even to assert ourselves on the global map. If we could escape the recession we can also teach the rest of the world something about economics – how to manage expectations and needs with limited resources. For a while it seemed like a success story. But dig a little deeper and you will see the contradiction
–
Yes,
we grew even when the world was shrinking, but isn’t that expected from a
country a billion strong? –
Why
couldn’t we assert ourselves as an economic model to be emulated by other
developing countries?
–
Why
are we still dictated by worldly whims? Money in when their economy is booming
and out when it is downgraded?
–
And
who is counting the inflation? Is our growth only a result of conspicuous
consumption? Or is there any real improvement in efficiencies? Where is the
infrastructural growth to support high GDP?
It
is our best economic team at the helm. Very much like the Indian cricket team –
the best team in the world who can lose an entire series. Best teams simply don’t
do that.
I
wouldn’t be a true Hyderabadi if I didn’t mention the T- problem. Don’t get me wrong, at this point I am
neither for nor against the T- decision. What I am against is uncertainty. I
believe the problem would never have defaulted to national government had YSR
been alive. He was a decisive leader and his fateful death and the subsequent
vacuum it created meant that bickering local leaders, like school children,
looked north, to the teacher, for a settlement. But any good teacher would know
that without an intrinsic acceptance of a resolution, any decision is just an
excuse for further bickering. Dr. Manmohan Singh was a professor and by all
judgments a very good teacher. Any scholar will tell you that the absolute
worst thing to do in a state of confusion is vacillate. Yet, our PM, an eminent
scholar vacillated first by granting and then refusing T-state.
It
gets worse. Now there are two sets of congress-men for every issue. One for and
the other against. Who needs an opposition when such perfect balance exists
within the government?
Here
is my analysis of the situation: The situation is a political problem and the
prime-minister is not (political). We knew this limitation when he became PM
but we hoped that years of being a bureaucrat had taught him an instinctive
understanding of politics: lessons that require deft sidestepping of minefields
while decisively handling cattle. A leader must be able to carry his team
through tough unacceptable decisions because in the end a team divided is a
team dead. By allowing the festering of two opinions in the same arena he has
armed both. And any good teacher will tell you that giving two children knives
to solve their mutual differences can never have a single winner.
There
is absolutely no doubt that our PM is a clean man. And yet it is also true that under his
premiership the country’s corruption numbers have gone out of the page. And
both are not mutually exclusive. Let me illustrate in a different way:
In
the movie On the Waterfront Marlon Brando confronts his older brother in the
car in a memorable scene. This brother had asked Marlon to lose a boxing match
because his boss has money riding on Marlon’s opponent. Shocked and hurt Marlon
looses the match and is a broken man ever after.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eeVq1e6JKlw
“You
were my brother Charlie… “he rages in the car scene “I could have been
something.” Left unsaid is the question of responsibility. Wasn’t the brother
more responsible to Marlon than be loyal to a boss? In the end what was the
right thing to do – be loyal or be right?
I
have heard the PM talk of coalition dharma
in terms that suggest loyalty even if it means backing the corrupt. But what is
more important – loyalty or country?
I
still think the PM is a great man. If I ever get a chance to meet him, I will
tell my grand-children about it. But despite that impressive resume I believe
that he is not the right man for the job anymore. This is my disillusionment
and it is a sad story.
tag:blogs.fullhyderabad.com,2011-07-17:5767The Hyderabadi Actress Factory2011-07-17T00:46:55+05:30
Even beyond the first glance there is
nothing in common between the nice lady who sells tea near my house and Ileana.
This particular nice lady selling tea on
a kerosene stove is ...Arizaspeak
Hyderabad
Even beyond the first glance there is
nothing in common between the nice lady who sells tea near my house and Ileana.
This particular nice lady selling tea on
a kerosene stove is short, dark with broad shoulders strengthened in the rigors
of hardship and a quick mouth that could snap any smart talking man while
Ileana is…well…Ileana. Yet if ever a
Telugu film was to be made celebrating the life of my tea woman, it probably
would star Ileana.
Don’t get me wrong. I am not here to write
yet another critique of Telugu Cinema. No, I am here to celebrate it: For no
other film industry, anywhere in the world, can claim the honor of taking so
many gawky teenage girls and transforming them into stars. Here are my facts: From
Vyjayantimala / Hema Malini / Sridevi to Asin / Genelia. It seems to me that without Telugu cinema most
of these girls, if not all, would have been glorified extras in Bollywood.
There is little written information about
the intentions of those first directors who started this trend. For example, it appears that the only reason Jayaprada
was chosen to be in Sargam (1979) by director K.Vishwanath was because she
starred in its original – Siri Siri Muvva (1976). Perhaps it made practical
sense to work with someone who knew the role well, or perhaps it was just a
psychological comfort of having a familiar face on the set in an alien world? However,
it is revealing that no-one stopped to worry about such pedestrian matters as
language. In this first age of actress
export it was south Indian girls who conquered the north. At one time Sridevi, Jayaprada and Hema
Malini were bigger stars than Zeenat Aman or Parveen Babi.
There were obvious advantages: Telugu films
(South Indian films generally) are male centered. This meant that the girls could
get away being bad for a long time…. only….only they HAD to look good. Then there was the question of discipline.
The fast turnaround time of Telugu films meant that discipline was not just
appreciated, it was demanded. To beleaguered
Hindi film producers of 70’s/80’s reeling under the pressure of temperamental
stars this must have been almost magical. They must have wished that they could
send their girls over to Hyderabad on a strict training regimen. For this is
exactly what they did!
And so in our era Hindi girls travel south.
Some have flops behind them (like Nagma) while others are brand new. But, they
all look good and none of them can speak Telugu. If lucky they have a quick hit and are offered
more films for extra cash. Just keep looking good, they are told and while here
in Hyderabad they keep chipping away until at an opportune moment they jump to Kollywood or Bollywood as an accomplished actor. Everyone’s happy – right? Yes, except that now
we have, for eternity, our favorite Telugu films of the last decade perfect but
for the heroine miming gibberish while a dubbing artist is delivering relevant dialogue.
Again, if I had to guess, I would say that
these satin white north Indian girls represent a projection of us: the Telugu self. It means that while the nice
lady near my house is serving tea and filling into her red saree, she has a
mental image of herself as Ileana. Now
only if she could expect her man to look like Salman, this equation can be
balanced.
tag:blogs.fullhyderabad.com,2011-07-11:5760The Lost Lakes of Hyderabad2011-07-11T00:17:52+05:30
If ever written, an obituary of Hyderabad
will have one entire chapter dedicated to the loss of its lakes.
No one knows if it was a deliberate strategy,
but by the time the kingdom ...Arizaspeak
Hyderabad
If ever written, an obituary of Hyderabad
will have one entire chapter dedicated to the loss of its lakes.
No one knows if it was a deliberate strategy,
but by the time the kingdom of the last Nizam acceded to the Indian Union there were no less than
900 lakes in Hyderabad. They made perfect sense for a city built on a large
plateau which must face the inconvenience of finding potable water in its rocky
underground. Yes, they provide an access to drinking water and yes, they are a
source of fresh fish in a land locked city, but most importantly they provided
a relief to the eye. Like Mr. Melville said, there is magic in it.
Say you are in
the country; in some high land of lakes. Take almost any path you please, and
ten to one it carries you down in a dale, and leaves you there by a pool in the
stream. There is magic in it.
- Hermann Melville
from Moby Dick
I should know, because even years later I
still remember that grey monsoon morning when a friend and I set out on a drive
around the AOC centre. It was one of those mornings that only a Hyderabadi will
know, the kind that comes after a long dry summer that makes your body crave
cool air. Such days make you feel adventurous and as we drove around my friend
noticed an un-laid ( kuccha) road that
seemed to go no-where. “Take it” she said “let’s explore!” and we drove inside
past a service railway line and were just about to give up when right up in
front of us was a large peepal tree,
a small temple and a tiny lake. I think it was my atheist friend who said: “Thank
God for the temple. It will ensure this lake never gets encroached!”
Sometime before 1573 Sultan Ibrahim Qutb Shah
ordered digging to commence on an artificial lake. It was to serve the irrigation
needs of his capital and would store drinking water brought from the Musi. The
lake would be called, after the king, Ibrahim Sagar who entrusted the
responsibility to his Son-in-law Hussain Shah Wali a direct descendant of the
famous Gesu Deraz of Gulbarga. Spreading across 8 Sq Kms this lake would be the
largest man-made lake in Asia. Hussain plunged into the work with dedication
and watched over an army of workers dig out a ditch whose sheer size became legendary
as hundreds of citizens came over in their caravan’s to watch. No wonder that
by 1578 many nobles considered its completion a feat of singular importance and
admired Hussain’s unwavering dedication. In deference to this popular opinion Sultan
Ibrahim did something unthinkable of kings – he decided to name the lake
Hussain Sagar.
Hence begins the life of one of Hyderabad’s
oldest lakes. For over 400 years it crops regularly entwined with the history
of the city, with its fate. For here on its banks the generals of Aurangzeb set
camp during that fateful seizing of Hyderabad and here on the opposite side
would be built a new city by yet another new conquering breed - Secunderabad. Hussain
Sagar was here when 17 inches of rainfall inundated Hyderabad in September 1908,
remembered in the history of the city simply as the “Great flood” and which
prompted the damming of the Musi and construction of two other reservoirs:
Osman Sagar and Himayat Sagar. Then in 1930 it stopped being a source of drinking
water to the city and became what it still is – a recreational spot.
From 1948 on the story of Hussain Sagar is
the story of every lake in Hyderabad. Now the new capital of a large new state,
Hyderabad began to attract inevitable industrial attention and prosperity. Drainages
crept underground and began to snake through the city carrying their waste into
the docile waiting lakes – as the city looked the other way in that in typical
Hyderabadi fashion. At one point about
one million liters of industrial effluents flowed into Hussain Sagar every day.
In 1989 divers blamed low visibility of the polluted lake for not finding the 72
foot large Buddha statue lying drowned in the waters of lake!
In 2000, a new city, a
triplet to Hyderabad and Secunderabad cropped up with the unveiling of Cyber
Towers. It was called Hi-tech City. Somewhere near this new city was a lake the
locals called Durgam Cheruvu. Driving through an inaccessible road one summer
morning in 2001 I was surprised by the size of the lake: large, serene and
smiling at the summer sky it seemed everything Hussain Sagar was meant to be 400
years ago. Then came the rock blasting as Cyberabad carved itself out of the
rock and Durgam Cheruvu became prime property. Now, I drive past this lake every-day,
gone is the gleam in its water and shrunk by the incessant reclaiming of land
underneath it nevertheless sits decked as an attraction. It reminds me of a bride
who, knowing her new husband only sees her as an investment looks sad & lost
in glorious bridal attire.
tag:blogs.fullhyderabad.com,2011-06-26:5747The Favors of Autodrivers2011-06-26T08:45:55+05:30
What would we do without the genorosity of kind autodrivers? They
who accept to take us around the city sometimes dropping us
right at our house. If you have ...Arizaspeak
Hyderabad
What would we do without the genorosity of kind autodrivers? They
who accept to take us around the city sometimes dropping us
right at our house. If you have luggage to tug around they might even help you
out by carrying your luggage with you. IN THE SAME AUTO! So what if they charge
a modest fee for these services, you musnt mistake this to be business, it is
public service for a fee!
Many of us misunderstand auto drivers. Take for instance this
incident I saw yesterday.
Four foreigners come out of a famous institute in Hyderabad. They
look around and approach a line of autos in an auto stand. One kind man is busy
with his gutka, a pre-occupation that is of singular importance. The girls
(didnt I mention these foreigners were girls!) wait for him to finish the
ritual of crushing the gutka and placing the powder between his stained teeth.
He then agrees to listen to them and replies with a number. The girls look
shocked. They approach another man in the line. At this the first man, his
sensitivity hurt screams to his peers who laugh. Those mild natured foreigners
are worried. They unnecessarily sense trouble and begin to move away. A beggar
approaches the auto-driver. He directs him to the foreigners - rich bastards
that they are. Last I saw the girls were being chased away by our insistent
beggars.
Such avoidable misunderstanding! Why dont passengers see that the
"for-hire" on the auto is just a legal necessity. No one, not the
government, nor the legal system takes it seriously. Then why do passengers?
Why assume such a thing and get hurt? It is best to petition the kind
autodrivers. The exchange should be something like this:
"Kind sir Autodriver... Is it ok if I approach
you?"
"Sure"
"Sir Owner of the yellow automotive, thy vehicle is all
powerful. Kings Pay obsequiousness to it... knights in time past would die to
ride such a powerful creature... your kindness is immeasurable.”
“Such is true. That is why everyone from Balakrishna to Rajnikanth
has portrayed us.”
“Kind sir... could I be bold enough to ride in this yellow chariot.
I wish to go to the secunderabad station.”
“Isnt it a little out of my way?”
“Of-course it is... dear sir... but off-course it is.... such
imprudence on my part. Thy exalted feet could not possibly stray towards such bourgeois
locations. No. Never.”
At this, like with every conversation with an auto-driver, you
must bow and walk away. Take care never to show him your back. If you are
lucky, he will call you.
Blessed be our autodrivers.
tag:blogs.fullhyderabad.com,2011-06-10:5734What's wrong with a Biryani?2011-06-10T20:54:59+05:30I am sitting here waiting for my order to arrive: slow cooked chicken marinaded all night long in curd and tossed into a bowl of warm rice and served with the leg sticking out. It arrives in a ...Arizaspeak
Hyderabad
I am sitting here waiting for my order to arrive: slow cooked chicken marinaded all night long in curd and tossed into a bowl of warm rice and served with the leg sticking out. It arrives in a copper bottomed vessel, I take a swoop of rice, tear a piece of chicken from the bone and mix it with the Mirchi Ka Salan tasting its dry peanut taste over the spices taking care never to wash it down with cool drinks. No, for the Hyderabadi Chicken Biryani, its just ice cold water sweating it out on the table.
I can never hurry through a Biryani. Perhaps its the effect of reading, years before, of the soldier's meal. During those days when wars were separated by yawning days of long marches, waiting for the enemy to make the first move or laying siege to an unfortunate citadel, the troops carried with them large cauldrons simmering with slow cooked biryani. If it was the traditional dum style, for we can never be sure of this, the cauldrons must have been sealed shut by large rings of dough. Under this dome was piled alternatively a layer of meat followed by a layer of rice half boiled in saffron infused water, until it touched the top. The cauldrons could never be heated directly because too much heat could burn away the subtle infusions, they were inturn placed in larger vessels. If the army was on move, this entire contraption was placed on an elephants back.
I pour out a little bit of the raita in my plate and let the rice soak it in. The curd in the raita cuts the sharpness of the spices. For folks with less sturdy bellies I have often recommended this way of enjoying a Biryani. However, I would never visit any over ethusiastic restaurant that was easy on spices in the Biryani. That’s often the case in places that serve westners: as if that race of mankind ever spiced up their cheese burger for a visiting Indian in Dallas. We need no apologies, neither does our food.
Perhpas the authentic hyderabadi biryani is long lost. But if it isnt, it is hiding somewhere in the old city where I have tasted the Biryani of the nawabs. In it is the right balance between spice and moderation that could never have been a sell out. Perhaps a legacy of the Bidari Bahamanis or the Bijapuri Sultans whose fat portraits can be understood by the Biryani, or may be the pakwaan from the house of one of those 10,000 courtesans who apparently dotted Qutub shahi Hyderabad. In the old city the Biryani must never be had without this inquisitiveness.
The one I am having in Paradise is a product of Secunderabad. There is the taste of the working class, rice more plain at top and the mix stronger at the bottom. I am here for nostalgic reasons but if you accuse it of being the McDonalds of Biryani, good but impersonal, I'll have to agree. But hell... is it good! The other representation of this kind is at Bawarchi, Biryani made purely for lust - with too much rice and too strong a mix. This is the Biryani for adolescents.
Its tough to be away from this taste. Once on a visit to New Jersey I was told of a "Paradise" there that sold Hyderabadi Biryani. Its my experience of a mirage in the desert. I should have known what to expect when I saw Amitabh Bachchan and Tabu argue about Cheeni in Asli Hyderabadi Zafrani Biryani. Either I have never had biryani properly or the taste of sugar is so faint that only a masterchef and his girlfriend can zero in on an argument about it.
Its done now. In tough times of choice I have defined a good Hyderabadi Biryani as one that finishes just ahead of your appetite. The slender chicken bones must be cleaned of meat, the Mirchi Ka Salan squeezed out and the bowl of rice double checked for remnants. That is when you have done good by the Biryani.