Highlander in Hyderabad

Old city in Hyderabad gave me life. It was like a breath. It had spread inside my body without my knowledge and consent. Once it took over my soul, I realized how blissful it was to live here. A romance happened. I loved the city so much or the city gave me everything I needed. When I was lonely, it gave me company. I could not feel that I was stranger in the city. Everything seemed my own.  A city of love, respect and life.

There were houses with small windows and narrow balconies. Inside them were many men, women and children, all loud, talking in distorted Hindi or better to call Hyderabadi Hindi.  

I had no friends in the city. I was born and brought up in the hills that had Himalyas on the front and forest on the back. I made friendship with the city. Irani Chaiwallas and Biryani houses were my addas. Muslim Chacchas were my companions. 

When I moved to other city , Hyderabad accompanied me in all my stories. I could never depart from it. I had realized that I had become dependent on the memories of the city. I longed to be in Hyderabad and spend my time sipping tea in old city or roam without any purpose near Hussain Sagar. There were memories all around my head and they refused to leave me.