My gramndma remarked today, "How far is that?"
My uncle repeated, "6o km".
She said, "Haan sattar to hai, nai time kitna lagta jaane?"
And that is how we (my grandmother and I) measure distances! No kilometer/mile crunching for us, no sirree! It has to be in simple chew-able bite sizes of information that don't take too much effort to process! Like saying, "XYZ is a 2-hr driving distance away". Never mind if logistics like volume of traffic on the roads, consequent speed of vehicles etc affect the time taken to reach a place! We just process all of the external factors (subconsciously in my case at least because I don't think I'm ever aware that I'm thinking it out so much!) and bam! - we know! We get a fairly accurate (or wait - now I'm starting to doubt if it's accurate!) idea in our head of how far a place is and we can even nicely compare distances between places by referring to one fixed barometer we have.
It's the same with the more farther off places - is it a day's journey by train? Is it a 4-hr flight?
Believe it!
The same exceptions apply - no taking into account stopovers, changing trains/planes and certainly no going by the route taken to get there (circuitous or as the crow flies). The time taken to get from place A to place B is good enough for us!
Sigh, women!...ok - girls!...or females, perhaps! (Alright, feminists and equal-ists - no offence meant!)
Sunday, 29 August 2010
Saturday, 21 August 2010
Onwards and Upwards
And then there's picking yourself up...piecing back the dream bit by shattered bit. An uphill road again, the familiar potholes on the way, and learning to be prepared for the unexpected ones.
'There's still hope' - and there always will be because you keep it alive in your heart, your being. A sliver of light guiding your way; the silken, radiant rope you hold onto on your climb up the mountain.
'Climb every mountain, search high and low,
follow every by-way, every path you know,
Climb every mountain, ford every stream,
follow every rainbow, till you find your dream...'
I'm not resting till I find mine.
'There's still hope' - and there always will be because you keep it alive in your heart, your being. A sliver of light guiding your way; the silken, radiant rope you hold onto on your climb up the mountain.
'Climb every mountain, search high and low,
follow every by-way, every path you know,
Climb every mountain, ford every stream,
follow every rainbow, till you find your dream...'
I'm not resting till I find mine.
Thursday, 12 August 2010
That's Life
It starts with a thought, doesn't it? Or rather - thoughts - which snowball into plans, determination and finally action. There's effort and sincerity... genuineness and integrity...diligence and dedication... and optimism. A single-minded trudge through the long, twisting, winding way to where you want to be or where you've planned to be. The plan - yes. Little triumphs and unexpected disappointments, sometimes a clear way and sometimes a haze like looking out at a blurry world through a window smattered with raindrops where the clean beam of a streetlight is smothered to an obscure smog as it makes it's way through the fumes of vehicles busily passing by. A window...a memory...a tempo...a spring in your step...elusive 45s. But through it all, an endless, tireless journey and a just-there-rose-tinted destination.
There's also - 'That's life'. The not-factored element. That one element that sneaks its way through your carefully worked on plans and hits at their very root, making your dreams come crashing down in front of a helpless you or just swooshes down and knocks over all your hard work like it were as weightless or valueless as a castle built with a pack of cards that come fluttering down with a gust of wind unfairly targeted at it. That's life. And the meaning hitting home after nearly two decades of hearing the much-bandied about phrase. Coming of age happens so late?
And also reflections and looking back...was that the way it should have been done? Giving in to room for superstitions and a lot of whys.
'Mist and shadow, cloud and shade...'
A ramble, a faltering like these rambling disconnected words...and starting with a thought...all over again...
That's Life, Indeed.
There's also - 'That's life'. The not-factored element. That one element that sneaks its way through your carefully worked on plans and hits at their very root, making your dreams come crashing down in front of a helpless you or just swooshes down and knocks over all your hard work like it were as weightless or valueless as a castle built with a pack of cards that come fluttering down with a gust of wind unfairly targeted at it. That's life. And the meaning hitting home after nearly two decades of hearing the much-bandied about phrase. Coming of age happens so late?
And also reflections and looking back...was that the way it should have been done? Giving in to room for superstitions and a lot of whys.
'Mist and shadow, cloud and shade...'
A ramble, a faltering like these rambling disconnected words...and starting with a thought...all over again...
That's Life, Indeed.
Wednesday, 2 June 2010
One for the family
The slices of history you stumble upon in the narrowest lanes of Hyderabad, I tell you!
Yeah! I just had to upload the pictures asap on facebook and comment with that line on the precious piece of history my uncle, mom and me had accidentally come across on one of our characteristic days out in the city (lol, more like trying to get errands done, driving through insane traffic and in this case, oppressive heat! gawd!) But the gem in question that made everything so worthwhile was spotting Sir Nizamat Jung's library...like a vista which opened up at the end of this cute, tiny and absolutely charming lane.
You know how it is - you feel for something that means a lot to you. We were like an excited bunch of kids. And that's because my granddad, who was quite a scholar, gave an almost biblical credence to Sir Nizamat Jung's interpretation of the Quran and he passed on that quality of intellectual insightfulness to his children who in turn taught it to the present generation - my cousins, my siblings and me (oh, and I love family legacies!). Seeing and discovering stuff about someone and something we'd literally grown up on was quite a treat.
My uncle wanted me to write about Sir Nizamat Jung, his life and work here (that's so sweet) but I think he'll be able to a better job of it. I think I'll write about the rest of our day. It's one of those days - simple, humble, very 'everyday' - that leaves a lingering delicious flavour even when it comes to an end and which you know will make for great nostalgia down the years.
So, there we were, back home after our day's jaunts, sipping gratefully on Roohafzah and complaining about the hottest summer our city had seen in 9, 20 and 100 years according to different newspaper reports! Weather is, really, the greatest conversation starter ever! And then leap frogging to Sir Nizamat Jung, granddad, reliving old memories, a unanimous call for tea (yeah, tea time!), back to heat, a reading by mom from a newspaper article on the 'shoals of language' - the use of the formal and pristine 'aap' and 'hum' (that we completely identify and agree with, and use) compared to the rather 'uncouth tu and tum' and another sprinkling of memories.
The heavy dose of memories is almost always injected by grandmom into the flowing conversation with such exuberance and a loud tone to match that we have to stop midway and listen (sometimes reluctantly!) to days gone by. Here, she recalled to memory some ancient incident where she and her merry band of relatives were left high and dry on a sojourn during one of their adventurous travels across the country. The accommodation they'd arranged (a relative's relative's home, that's how it works!) was unavailable at the last moment leaving them with nowhere to go in the middle of the night! "Nikalna khund se aadam ka sunte aaye the leykin, bohot beaabaroo ho kar tere kuuche se hum nikle", she spontaneously remarked with that Ghalib's sher! Room or no room, the group of travellers broke into 'wah, wahs' and enjoyed the comedy of their situation, she remembers.
And that sher set the tone for the rest of the evening...it's just one of those days...one with the family.
Tuesday, 4 May 2010
The charm that is Charminar
Life goes on quite normally and mundanely, I'm sure, in the streets of Charminar but oh, the charm that place holds! Especially for someone used to a sanitized uniformity of nouveau-urban life complete with those ubiquitous glitzy 'malls'.
Yeah, as with all things, there is an inevitable 'underside' to it as well (not to mention quite a dark underbelly) like that of having to wrestle your way through a crowd that jostles and pushes and even slices your handbag making away with your precious bills if you're not careful.
But still, I think no other place in Hyderabad compares to 'sheher' as it was known back when it was the Nizams' Dominion and in my grandmom's colourful recollection of the dominion's pulse.
Having to walk down the narrow lanes which are brimming with vehicles and a multitude of people all trying to make their way, seeing crumbling walls of old 'deodis' and palace walls and shops flanking either side and hearing a chorus of noises from the automobile engines, the chattering and sometimes yelling crowd and the boisterous shopkeepers is reason enough to put you off from visiting Charminar. Ironically, it's all of this that also makes it such an incredibly charming place. The streets have a vibrancy that rubs off on you. All the noise and the crowd and the sights make the place 'alive'. You can't help but wonder at the dynamism of the place - everybody's moving, everyone's busy with something.
Half the charm is because of the grand old buildings that dot all four cardinal directions from 'the' Charminar that lend an 'awesome' characther to this place! They've stood there for years (and many more to come, I'm certain. That's a hallmark of great architecture - built for the fourth dimension). Their staidness, so diametrically opposite to the life teeming all around them, adds to the charm of Charminar.
And you find goods and products that you'd never find anywhere else in the city. This is from a shopaholic's perspective though! Things are just so conveniently available within a foot's distance! Like the time when on one of our tiring shopping sprees, Mom and me were fretting over finding a shop that sold the last buy, a bunch of safety pins, on our list even as we were walking out the door of another shop when bang! a hawker who ambushes us on the sidewalk has the stuff we're looking for right there in his little tray of goods that he's expectantly holding out to us.
The traditional eats you get here are a whole other chapter in themselves!
A study in contrasts, Charminar is also a great study in lively, usable urban public spaces like the public squares across Europe. The streets are bustling, the built spaces are always occupied, there's zest in the air. It's a perfect example of mixed-use zoning and how successfully it serves the purpose that any city or part of a city should - being enjoyably livable. All it needs is a little effort from the powers that be to improve the infrastructure and amenities, bring an order to the business process that happens here which would bring the much-needed improvement in the standard of living of residents here and encouraging businesses in this area to retain their old-world charm by promoting Charminar as the place to be to get an authentic and traditional feel of the old Hyderabad.
Yeah, as with all things, there is an inevitable 'underside' to it as well (not to mention quite a dark underbelly) like that of having to wrestle your way through a crowd that jostles and pushes and even slices your handbag making away with your precious bills if you're not careful.
But still, I think no other place in Hyderabad compares to 'sheher' as it was known back when it was the Nizams' Dominion and in my grandmom's colourful recollection of the dominion's pulse.
Having to walk down the narrow lanes which are brimming with vehicles and a multitude of people all trying to make their way, seeing crumbling walls of old 'deodis' and palace walls and shops flanking either side and hearing a chorus of noises from the automobile engines, the chattering and sometimes yelling crowd and the boisterous shopkeepers is reason enough to put you off from visiting Charminar. Ironically, it's all of this that also makes it such an incredibly charming place. The streets have a vibrancy that rubs off on you. All the noise and the crowd and the sights make the place 'alive'. You can't help but wonder at the dynamism of the place - everybody's moving, everyone's busy with something.
Half the charm is because of the grand old buildings that dot all four cardinal directions from 'the' Charminar that lend an 'awesome' characther to this place! They've stood there for years (and many more to come, I'm certain. That's a hallmark of great architecture - built for the fourth dimension). Their staidness, so diametrically opposite to the life teeming all around them, adds to the charm of Charminar.
And you find goods and products that you'd never find anywhere else in the city. This is from a shopaholic's perspective though! Things are just so conveniently available within a foot's distance! Like the time when on one of our tiring shopping sprees, Mom and me were fretting over finding a shop that sold the last buy, a bunch of safety pins, on our list even as we were walking out the door of another shop when bang! a hawker who ambushes us on the sidewalk has the stuff we're looking for right there in his little tray of goods that he's expectantly holding out to us.
The traditional eats you get here are a whole other chapter in themselves!
A study in contrasts, Charminar is also a great study in lively, usable urban public spaces like the public squares across Europe. The streets are bustling, the built spaces are always occupied, there's zest in the air. It's a perfect example of mixed-use zoning and how successfully it serves the purpose that any city or part of a city should - being enjoyably livable. All it needs is a little effort from the powers that be to improve the infrastructure and amenities, bring an order to the business process that happens here which would bring the much-needed improvement in the standard of living of residents here and encouraging businesses in this area to retain their old-world charm by promoting Charminar as the place to be to get an authentic and traditional feel of the old Hyderabad.
Saturday, 10 April 2010
Grandmom's words
Badi manzil jaana hai, Arey naadan pardesi,
Khuda ko muh bataana hai, Arey naadan pardesi;
Na chhaate ko tanaa kar chal,
Na mitti ko daba kar chal,
Khuda ko muh bataana hai, Arey nadaan pardesi;
Na ghairon ki shikaayat kar,
Na de miskinon ko taana,
Khuda ko muh bataana hai, Arey naadan pardesi,
Badi manzil jaana hai, Arey naadan pardesi
Wednesday, 31 March 2010
Slice of Life on a Hot Summer Afternoon
The sun's crackling down with its fierce March intensity. The heat forces a kind of dull inactivity. A couple of vehicles whiz down the road braving the heat.
Sitting by the pavement (sidewalk!) under his black umbrella for shelter, the 'chai-wallah' nonchalantly pours out cup after cup of piping hot 'chai' from his thermos flask for an unending stream of thirsty travellers stopping by. They'd rather quench their thirst or just have a drink of steaming hot tea in an already hot environment than move over to the 'ganna-wala' a few yards away. A couple of girls dressed in the fashion of the day - cotton kurtis and those famously popular leggings - trot by under the shade of their umbrella and gingerly climb down the rickety steps off the pavement into the lane below.
Standing in the shaded balcony of her home across the road, a girl impatiently fans herself with a folded newspaper while waiting for the power supply to be restored. A while later, the buzz of vehicles on the road has increased slightly. It's an hour to sunset and the state of limbo clamped by the sun ebbs as it sets. Down by the 'chai-wallah' an even larger crowd has gathered to enjoy an early evening cuppa and the relief from the heat...
Sitting by the pavement (sidewalk!) under his black umbrella for shelter, the 'chai-wallah' nonchalantly pours out cup after cup of piping hot 'chai' from his thermos flask for an unending stream of thirsty travellers stopping by. They'd rather quench their thirst or just have a drink of steaming hot tea in an already hot environment than move over to the 'ganna-wala' a few yards away. A couple of girls dressed in the fashion of the day - cotton kurtis and those famously popular leggings - trot by under the shade of their umbrella and gingerly climb down the rickety steps off the pavement into the lane below.
Standing in the shaded balcony of her home across the road, a girl impatiently fans herself with a folded newspaper while waiting for the power supply to be restored. A while later, the buzz of vehicles on the road has increased slightly. It's an hour to sunset and the state of limbo clamped by the sun ebbs as it sets. Down by the 'chai-wallah' an even larger crowd has gathered to enjoy an early evening cuppa and the relief from the heat...