Firdaus in Hyderabad

It has been almost three months since I left Delhi, for the city of Nawabs, Hyderabad. I didn't see no Nawabs. But it was fun, this short period we spent here. It's a laid back city, where the paperwallah chats up on the Ambani split while collecting his bill, where early means 9 and late means 9, where someone once had the time to walk us to the not-so-near bank when we asked for directions. We didn't see the city's landmark, The Charminar, but there're no regrets. Infact, Hyderabad, for me, is to be remembered not for its commercial streets, or the Charminar, or the Salarjung Museum, but by the beautiful man made mass of water that lies at the heart of the city, the Hussain Sagar lake.

The lake hosted almost all of our weekends here, no matter how they started, we would eventually end up sitting for umpteen hours on the benches of necklace road, which just kisses the boundaries of the lake, then realizing that its too late to find an auto. And then cursing humanity for the better part of the 5 kilometres walk back home.

The mention of autos brings me to the the most amazing feature of the city. Traffic flows like water in Hyderabad, so if you're standing in the middle of the main road, you'll have scooters, bikes, cars, buses, trucks and autos passing around you, just as flowing water passes its obstacles. You may be grazed, might even lose a limb if you aren't lucky, but you won't be run over.

There is no concept of red lights, except for marriage decorations. If you need to cross the road, just start walking slowly towards your destination. The riders and god will take care of the rest.

Anyways, what I was missing the most about Delhi was the typical "punjabi" heavily loaded milk drink, with substantial quantities of badam, kaju and the rest mixed in the treat. I couldn't find that anywhere here, and had almost given up to the inevitable fate. Then, today, while passing paradise crossing, we spotted a brightly lit sweets 'n restaurant place. There was something heavenly about the way it looked. I had later realized that the cloudy sky had just broken up over it, letting through a bunch of rays to brighten the place's milieu. Everything was in place, it was a message sent from above. And as we entered the place, and sat down, and the waiter (who looked like he was floating, and had this strange bulge on his back that looked like two wings) brought us the menu, and there I saw the lines that almost brought tears to my eyes-

Cold Kesar Badam Milk ........................ Rs. 15

And the rest of it is too emotional to be described.

"Gar firdaus bar rue zameenast
hamiasto, hamiasto, hamiast."

(If there is heaven on land; its here, here, and here alone.)