I love “south india”.
Really. It may be the incessant head shaking or the filter kaapi or the fact that no one uses “behen chod” as a vowel. Or maybe it is because if you scan the classfieds, you will inevitably come across a decent offer for a marutHi 800. They tend to use the “h” a fair bit around here.
The people of Hyderabad (the few I have encountered) are incredibly friendly. And slightly mental. And they love their food. Which means I lub them. Midnight biryani at Shadaab and interesting chutney at Chutneys and sitting in the Old city digging our spoons into the incredibly cheap Mashoor ice cream wala. Or sipping Irani chai near the Charminar and watching this city breathe. Superb.
One night was spent in a tiny village about 60 km from the main city. Think old, rustic house with a smallish courtyard where we all sat and drank and laughed and tasted the sweet leaf. Think clear skies where the moon shines so bright and you can see the stars and you lie down and stare at the sky and wonder a little dream.
The bon fire and the flames waring your hands and your feet in the cold night air. If you stare long enough you will understand why some think Fire to be a living being. Beautiful.
Apologies are always a little hard for me. Making them that is. But I did and it went fine and I have found a little bit of the friend I had so cruelly cut away. There is only so much you can put away for another day. That rhymes.
Basvangudi is another interesting part of bangalore. This is where the smell of freshly ground coffee fills the air and you can taste the best dosa in the world. Or you can dig into the massive rava idlis at Adigas or just sit by the side of the road and watch the old ladies decorate their hair with the flowers. It reminds me of a slower, easier more relaxed place. Like Deewars.
Something reminded me of you today.
I wonder what it could have been.
Such are the things which not to be said,
Nor touched, nor felt nor seen.