Hyderabad Blues - Part1

Hyderabad Blues - Part1

Hyderabad has undergone a sea change from when I had last visited it; back in the early 90s. Now its huge malls, world class pubs/discotheques putHyderabad on the 'must-see' map of India. If you think I am trying sound like a feature writer you're wrong. I really am not able to find the words to describe the city. This piece is an attempt to freeze my rollercoaster diwali weekend in Hyderabad.

Pune to Hyderabad

The bus started from Pune (I live in Pune now if you don't know it already) at 20:00 hours on Thursday night. There was a forgettable Hindi movie playing on the video in the bus and I slept for the remainder of the journey. Hindi movies are fantastic! I mean I normally struggle to sleep. I woke up around 6:30 a.m. to find the green-brown landscape of the Medak district passing by. The signs in Telugu made me nostalgic. I learnt that it'd be another hour before my journey would end. Thanks to the Afro-Asian games happening in the city, the roads were clean; the traffic islands were green; and the traffic wasn't as chaotic as I had thought it would be. I got down in Banjara hills circle and rendezvoused with Kicha - my good friend and my guitar god. On our way home we stopped for chai; it was heavenly. If you're from Chennai you'll know what I mean.

Friday Frolic

Kicha parked the car with alarming dexterity and we hit the lift. The apartment wore an 'I was young once but the rain and sun screwed me' look. That was from the outside. Inside Kicha's apartment it was a completely different story. It was a two-bed duplex apartment. The bedroom upstairs opened up to a spacious balcony that allows you to drink in the breath-taking view of the city below. The Golconda fort stood like an experienced bouncer in a bar; unobtrusive, fearsome and stoic in its silence. Aunty - Kicha�s mom - shook me away from my reverie and hinted that I needed a bath. I badly needed one! By the time she left for work, Kicha was fast asleep; poor bastard was doing a night I guess (god knows where, now that's a different tale). I attacked the idlies that aunty had prepared for us and indulged in some TV.
When I woke up Kicha it was almost 1600 hours. I was excited about the Friday night; it is not often that I get to spend a weekend with my best friend you know? After a late lunch Kicha and I got out in his car. I booked my return tickets; the guy at the counter said 'no seats, do you want to sit next to the driver in the cabin?' I said 'yes'. I had little choice. Kicha had some work at the Viceroy; we finished that and we headed to Sparks - a happening pub. We hadn't even finished half of the pitcher when Kicha's friend Madhu called. She invited us over for a get-together. After a few drinks (read: Bacardi white, Old monk, and beer) the girls (he he I forgot telling you about them!) and the boy wanted music. So off we went to Avik's place to get the guitar. At Avik's place I defied gravity and made a sailor look normal with my gait. To top it all, I emptied my guts by puking in the parking lot. The worst was over; well, for the day. We got back to Madhu's and Kicha and Avik started jamming. We (er I did some back-up singing ;-) ) did Extreme, Eric Clapton, Whitney Houston, Euphoria (Indian band), and some Cranberries. It was magic. Kicha's guitaring was incendiary, even on an acoustic with the missing G-string. :-D Avik amazed me with his range and power singing (ok Avik relax). By the time we decided to go home it was 5a.m.
We sneaked into Kicha's room at 5:30 a.m. I was guilty that we had to wake aunty up. I hit the bed thinking 'how is the Saturday gonna be? More on that later people. Here's a piece of advice. Don't eat masala peanuts in Sparks. It is disgusting. I blame them for my puking.

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Pune here I come

As the train dragged its lazy self into the Pune Junction, with its guts in cacophnous symphony, I stood by the door; excited, anxious and a bit nervous. I wasn't really sure what Pune had in store. My first impression was 'it is clean and green!'. I struggled with my luggage, only to be wooed by a coolie. I paid him 20 bucks to carry my suitcase. Only in India we can afford this luxury. The auto guy demanded 100 bucks. I was not in a mood to argue with him; I am used to highway robbery by auto guys in Chennai.
Sitting in the auto I watched Pune as she unfolded to me with her clean roads and greens; sober and chilled out people going to work or school. The town didn't disappoint me. What appealed to my nomad heart were the hills around Pune. They wore green and on one I spotted a flock of sheep grazing. It appeared as if a god with a weird sense of humor had stuck them there with glue.
The auto pulled over outside my hotel. I checked-in and had a hot bath and ordered coffee. The coffee came with his best friend the news paper. I ignored the obscenity that is the best bakery case (obscenity courtesy the Gujarat government) and dove into 'Pune Times'. Looks like they got an IMAX or something similar to that here, got to check that out. I finished coffee and got out of the hotel. I hailed an auto and asked him to drop me at my work place that is a good 15 KM away. The road to work helped Pune unfold her mystic self more. I was stunned by the hills, the curved roads (yea, I love curves) and the little eat-outs tucked away almost as if they were too shy to present themselves. You know, nothing is out place in Pune and that's what makes her the elegant beauty that she is. I hope to have a good time here. If you are a blogger from Pune-no-if you are from Pune, you know how to reach me. Reach me. I need friends to have a good time. Sayonara folks. This dingy Internet cafe is scaring me. I am already guilty of killing a bee that charged at me from inside the CPU. And it looks like his kin are devising an attack strategy in the womb of the CPU. SO far so good. So long!
Write to me: suman 'at' sumankumar 'dot' com

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One Road, Two Restaurants

One Road, Two Restaurants

1998. Chennai. TTK Road
It was a sultry Chennai evening; Sweat trickling down the back of your neck, your side-locks and adding an incredible amount of irritation to your already tough life. I stopped outside Jolly �our hang out, a teashop, and glanced at the profane opulence that is Park Sheraton, Chennai�s renowned five-star hotel. I shook myself away from the brief reverie and walked into the cacophony of Jolly. The gang was already there. Prabhakar and Suren (my brother) were debating on Linux, despite the fact that both of them knew as much of Linux as George Bush did. Esa was hanging by the table, his frame totally on the table and his legs were limp. His demeanor more than suggested that he was content with his joblessness. Kumar and Thiru were discussing women, alcohol, education and so on. Kumar was telling us about his dreams of driving down in a luxury car to Fish cove � with a girl- and getting drunk and having fun. Prabhakar laughed at the dream. He said �Machaan otha single tea ku lottery da! Fish cove kekkudhaa?� We finished smoking, tea and laughing and emerged out. The scene outside stopped us in our tracks. Three beautiful girls were walking into Sheraton.
Prabha said �The difference is the road da!� I couldn�t agree more with him. Only a road separated a bunch of ambitious (not Esa oh hell no!) young men hanging out in a dingy chai joint; and Park Sheraton: the place where the cr�me de la cr�me of Chennai hung out.
Thiru said, �Do you guys think they�ll let us in?� Honestly, I had my doubts about that. A pall of gloom engulfed us. We started our bikes �read: my MAX-100, Kumar�s TVS-Champ and Prabha�s RX-100- and went home, not even dreaming that a couple years later we would talk about the same thing, but in a different setting.

2002. Chennai. TTK Road
The Tata Indica swerved into Park Sheraton. After hading over the keys to the valet we walked into the plush lobby. The guard gave us a bow; his turban almost touched my nose. Thiru ducked for cover thinking the guard was about to ram us with his head. He was so sure that they would throw us out.
We parked our behinds in the bar. After a few beers, Prabhakar almost fell on Kumar�s feet and said �Machaan I never dreamt I would be drinking in Park da!� Kumar laughed and said �It is nothing da! Watch out fore more!�
Prabhakar looked at me and said �One road. Two restaurants. Life is funny da!� Yes Prabha, it sure is. Suren and Prabha are �don�t laugh- network engineers. They play with Cisci switches and routers and install complex network stuff on a day to day basis. Kumar owns a business (profitable mind you) and a Lancer. Thiru runs his own financial services business and claims he is always busy. I�d be joining India�s leading IT company as a senior technical writer soon. Esa is the only thing that hasn�t changed. Some things don�t I guess. And yes, life is funny.

Write to me: suman 'at' sumankumar 'dot' com

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Narendra Modi on BBC

Narendra Modi on BBC

"Our phocus eez development development development" is the same answer that Modi gave to the startled BBC correspondent, who launched right into questions on riots and its victims. Our man simply took off the collar-mic and walked off. I cringed. If this is the image we impress upon the world why won't America or any western country call us 'under-developed' and point to security concerns for NOT visiting us?
Modi is guilty. So are we. For making it all (read: All=killing senior citizens, kids, foetuses; raping pregnant women and cutting open their bellie and throwing them into fire...) look like nothing as if it were a minor riot. God save us from these repressed people. How can a CM be so gauche on TV tell me? Unless he's suffering from a delusion of power. You tell me!
Write to me: suman 'at' sumankumar 'dot' com

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