The city lights light up your horizon as the plane circles around for its final descent. They look starkly different from the familiar densely packed Mumbai lightscape. The lights in Hyderabad are well spaced, clearly delineating the roads, the suburbs and the old city. The road leading to the airport is straight, long and wide, setting a benchmark that I hope the rest of the city will be able to live up to.
I am in Hyderabad for a fixed period of six and a half months, for my training stint in sales. Then I can head back home to Mumbai for at least three months if not more. Then I can be amongst friends, family and that comforting feeling of being in a place that has accepted you. That is but a distant dream. For now, as I tighten the seatbelt that I never once opened during the entire flight, I get ready for the Deccan. For the next few weeks, Hyderabad and I will get to know each other, like boxers circling the ring and sizing each other up.
The airport terminal does not disappoint. It is well-built, modern and welcoming in a way that reminds you of the staid, thick-mustachioed doormen of 5-star hotels. It does not seduce you with its marketing gimmicks or fancy artwork. Rather it makes you feel secure and valued.
The view of Hyderabad through the windows of the AeroExpress bus in the late hours of the night is comforting. Open spaces, large towering structures and huge water bodies characterize the ride from the airport. On a Friday night such as this, most people flying in are the ones coming back home. They wait in a very civilized manner for the last leg of their journey to end. Middle aged men, uninterested in the scenery, gaze blankly ahead with the only movement being the occasional peeping into their mobile phones to note the passage of time. Young women busy themselves in phone conversations so soft that they melt into the background. Such people ignore and ask to be ignored. And everyone chooses to turn their backs. On each other.
A newcomer to the city, on the other hand, is instantly recognized. He looks around intently, partly with awe, and partly with the anxious anticipation that often ends up in pointless conversation between strangers. I too came to Hyderabad with absolutely no idea of the city. As I gazed attentively to every detail of every road that the bus took me along, I hoped to find some conversation with a local. Someone who would give me some gyaan on what it takes to survive in Hyderabad. In the first few days here, I looked everywhere for a heads up on the place. And the people.
And I was lucky. The girl in the next seat was pretty much open to conversation. She had noticed my IIMK tee and she looked at me with the look that moms give we are up to mischief. She may not exactly know whats in our minds, but she knows that we don't mean serious harm. "First time to Hyderabad?" she asked, and then sat back, knowing very well that she had done what was required from her. From here on, the conversation would flow. That point on, baring the basic introductions, it was all about Hyderabad. Me asking, she replying. The weather, the roads, the localities, the rent rates as well as the best places to have Irani chai and biryani. And 30 mins later, I was ready to face Hyderabad. Only later did she tell me that she was from IIM Indore.
Nights in Hyderabad are a little funny. Unlike Mumbai, this city seems to actually sleep. People disappear from the roads and life seems standstill. You find yourself talking in a soft whisper lest you wake someone up. Even the autowallahs seem to be shutting shop! On one such quiet night, I came to Hyderabad.
I am in Hyderabad for a fixed period of six and a half months, for my training stint in sales. Then I can head back home to Mumbai for at least three months if not more. Then I can be amongst friends, family and that comforting feeling of being in a place that has accepted you. That is but a distant dream. For now, as I tighten the seatbelt that I never once opened during the entire flight, I get ready for the Deccan. For the next few weeks, Hyderabad and I will get to know each other, like boxers circling the ring and sizing each other up.
The airport terminal does not disappoint. It is well-built, modern and welcoming in a way that reminds you of the staid, thick-mustachioed doormen of 5-star hotels. It does not seduce you with its marketing gimmicks or fancy artwork. Rather it makes you feel secure and valued.
The view of Hyderabad through the windows of the AeroExpress bus in the late hours of the night is comforting. Open spaces, large towering structures and huge water bodies characterize the ride from the airport. On a Friday night such as this, most people flying in are the ones coming back home. They wait in a very civilized manner for the last leg of their journey to end. Middle aged men, uninterested in the scenery, gaze blankly ahead with the only movement being the occasional peeping into their mobile phones to note the passage of time. Young women busy themselves in phone conversations so soft that they melt into the background. Such people ignore and ask to be ignored. And everyone chooses to turn their backs. On each other.
A newcomer to the city, on the other hand, is instantly recognized. He looks around intently, partly with awe, and partly with the anxious anticipation that often ends up in pointless conversation between strangers. I too came to Hyderabad with absolutely no idea of the city. As I gazed attentively to every detail of every road that the bus took me along, I hoped to find some conversation with a local. Someone who would give me some gyaan on what it takes to survive in Hyderabad. In the first few days here, I looked everywhere for a heads up on the place. And the people.
And I was lucky. The girl in the next seat was pretty much open to conversation. She had noticed my IIMK tee and she looked at me with the look that moms give we are up to mischief. She may not exactly know whats in our minds, but she knows that we don't mean serious harm. "First time to Hyderabad?" she asked, and then sat back, knowing very well that she had done what was required from her. From here on, the conversation would flow. That point on, baring the basic introductions, it was all about Hyderabad. Me asking, she replying. The weather, the roads, the localities, the rent rates as well as the best places to have Irani chai and biryani. And 30 mins later, I was ready to face Hyderabad. Only later did she tell me that she was from IIM Indore.
Nights in Hyderabad are a little funny. Unlike Mumbai, this city seems to actually sleep. People disappear from the roads and life seems standstill. You find yourself talking in a soft whisper lest you wake someone up. Even the autowallahs seem to be shutting shop! On one such quiet night, I came to Hyderabad.
