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The trouble I had with the KGP winter was not the cold as such but the shortened days. By the time I took my last period lecture class and came out, the sun would have already sunk below the horizon and that sort of depressed me.
If I had my way, I would have continually traveled from the Tropic of Cancer to the Tropic of Capricorn and back right beneath the sun and enjoyed eternal summer.
That reminds me...the other day Sourya wrote that they were soon going to have their winter break. I thought for a moment that it was a mistake...it ought to have been summer break, for I was enjoying the Longest Day (seen the multi-starrer war movie?) of the year. Till I realized he was in Chile, the antipodes nearly...oh ok...of Hyderabad. Just an earth diameter away...less than 45 minutes drive through the gravity tunnel.
Anyway my shift from KGP to Hyderabad was rather tectonic. They are as different from each other as bun is from bunny.
The story goes that our revisionist Buddha-da once traveled all the way from Calcutta to Hyderabad to see for himself how a placid languorous nawabi city was transformed in less than a decade into a major IT hub propelled among others by a swarm of Bengali probashis.
He was driven round and round the hi-tec city and was impressed like a babe on a merry-go-round in the lobby of a modern mall. But he made the cardinal mistake of taking a train back to Calcutta. And once back home he denigrated Hyderabad to his heart's content saying that as soon as the train left the Secunderabad Station, all he could watch was rocks and rocks sitting upon more rocks precariously...while as soon as the train entered Bengal (via KGP) it was all greenery and ponds and pukurs and maach jumping out of them.
He is right. Hyderabad is a surprise oasis in a rocky desert. It has about 15 major lakes and a hundred minor ones. And there are an equal number of major and minor parks. It is full of greenery. Trees which couldn't have been planted by men or mastans. And an Old City that has a charm and culture of its own once you get used to it.
But the drastic difference between Hyderabad and KGP is the moisture content in the air. KGP is relentlessly humid except for a few weeks in winter. The bathroom floors never dry up. The average rainfall is about 1500 mm. In some years it touched 2200. With the result that if you skip sweeping your cobwebs on the walls for a week so many spidermen would have grown big by the next week that the trouble is multiplied fourfold.
Hyderabad on the other hand is as dry as a biscuit. Pour a bucket of water on the bathroom floor and within ten minutes it is bone-dry. Spidermen are conspicuously absent on the walls. The average rainfall is as low as 900 mm. And it could and does go down to 500 mm. The city is at a height and is far removed from sea and cyclones. There is ample sunshine throughout the year except during the monsoon months when it is breezy and cool. There is no winter. You don't need sweaters and shoes.
In short it is an old man's heaven.
Except that there is a perennial thin film of dust that envelopes everything. I think it is due to the incessant construction activity that is going on everywhere here. Rocks are constantly pulverized to make them serve as bricks. And granite is continually ground. That makes us float in dust. But unlike in KGP, asthma is not a common complaint.
Oh well...this heaven has its flip side...you don't get water for love or money...but since you don't sweat, you don't need half a dozen baths everyday which was my norm at KGP.
And you get the cuisine you want.
The other day there was this Priti Bhojan (celebratory feast) on the final (13th) day of my wife's obsequies. My son invited 100 odd friends, colleagues, relatives and helpmeets. And they were all in for a pleasant surprise. For, he fished out a Bengali Caterer and gave a bulk order with a vegetarian menu sans onion and garlic (which is like ordering Kashi without Ganga):
No fish, no mutton, sir?
No.
No onion, no garlic, sir?
No.
No haldi paste, no mustard oil, sir?
No.
And then he caught his head in his two hands and had to be cheered up.
Loochi, alor dum, pulav, chana dal with coconut pieces, begun bhaja, rash malai, bengali paan...
I can get sambhar cooked sir!
Thank you, no!
Needless to say, it was a grand success...a complete change from the Southee stuff.
My son was taken out of Bengal but as the truism goes, no one can take Bengal out of him...he named his daughter Ishani. Whenever he mentions her name to one of his relatives or friends, they are flabbergasted:
Never heard of it...
======================================================================
The trouble I had with the KGP winter was not the cold as such but the shortened days. By the time I took my last period lecture class and came out, the sun would have already sunk below the horizon and that sort of depressed me.
If I had my way, I would have continually traveled from the Tropic of Cancer to the Tropic of Capricorn and back right beneath the sun and enjoyed eternal summer.
That reminds me...the other day Sourya wrote that they were soon going to have their winter break. I thought for a moment that it was a mistake...it ought to have been summer break, for I was enjoying the Longest Day (seen the multi-starrer war movie?) of the year. Till I realized he was in Chile, the antipodes nearly...oh ok...of Hyderabad. Just an earth diameter away...less than 45 minutes drive through the gravity tunnel.
Anyway my shift from KGP to Hyderabad was rather tectonic. They are as different from each other as bun is from bunny.
The story goes that our revisionist Buddha-da once traveled all the way from Calcutta to Hyderabad to see for himself how a placid languorous nawabi city was transformed in less than a decade into a major IT hub propelled among others by a swarm of Bengali probashis.
He was driven round and round the hi-tec city and was impressed like a babe on a merry-go-round in the lobby of a modern mall. But he made the cardinal mistake of taking a train back to Calcutta. And once back home he denigrated Hyderabad to his heart's content saying that as soon as the train left the Secunderabad Station, all he could watch was rocks and rocks sitting upon more rocks precariously...while as soon as the train entered Bengal (via KGP) it was all greenery and ponds and pukurs and maach jumping out of them.
He is right. Hyderabad is a surprise oasis in a rocky desert. It has about 15 major lakes and a hundred minor ones. And there are an equal number of major and minor parks. It is full of greenery. Trees which couldn't have been planted by men or mastans. And an Old City that has a charm and culture of its own once you get used to it.
But the drastic difference between Hyderabad and KGP is the moisture content in the air. KGP is relentlessly humid except for a few weeks in winter. The bathroom floors never dry up. The average rainfall is about 1500 mm. In some years it touched 2200. With the result that if you skip sweeping your cobwebs on the walls for a week so many spidermen would have grown big by the next week that the trouble is multiplied fourfold.
Hyderabad on the other hand is as dry as a biscuit. Pour a bucket of water on the bathroom floor and within ten minutes it is bone-dry. Spidermen are conspicuously absent on the walls. The average rainfall is as low as 900 mm. And it could and does go down to 500 mm. The city is at a height and is far removed from sea and cyclones. There is ample sunshine throughout the year except during the monsoon months when it is breezy and cool. There is no winter. You don't need sweaters and shoes.
In short it is an old man's heaven.
Except that there is a perennial thin film of dust that envelopes everything. I think it is due to the incessant construction activity that is going on everywhere here. Rocks are constantly pulverized to make them serve as bricks. And granite is continually ground. That makes us float in dust. But unlike in KGP, asthma is not a common complaint.
Oh well...this heaven has its flip side...you don't get water for love or money...but since you don't sweat, you don't need half a dozen baths everyday which was my norm at KGP.
And you get the cuisine you want.
The other day there was this Priti Bhojan (celebratory feast) on the final (13th) day of my wife's obsequies. My son invited 100 odd friends, colleagues, relatives and helpmeets. And they were all in for a pleasant surprise. For, he fished out a Bengali Caterer and gave a bulk order with a vegetarian menu sans onion and garlic (which is like ordering Kashi without Ganga):
No fish, no mutton, sir?
No.
No onion, no garlic, sir?
No.
No haldi paste, no mustard oil, sir?
No.
And then he caught his head in his two hands and had to be cheered up.
Loochi, alor dum, pulav, chana dal with coconut pieces, begun bhaja, rash malai, bengali paan...
I can get sambhar cooked sir!
Thank you, no!
Needless to say, it was a grand success...a complete change from the Southee stuff.
My son was taken out of Bengal but as the truism goes, no one can take Bengal out of him...he named his daughter Ishani. Whenever he mentions her name to one of his relatives or friends, they are flabbergasted:
Never heard of it...
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