And right ashamed I am too, seeing how I have whimpered into silence. I've been meaning to give this post a wee bit of time but a wicked, wicked reviewer (yes my dear, this means you!) and my own prodigious sloth have contrived to delay this post. But no more, yes?
Before all else about Hyderabad, I should like it to be noted that on neither of my train rides were there encounters of the bizarre kind with my tribe. Nope, non, de nada! No Gujarati people - men, women, or children - giving me any grief about being a disgrace to the name Gujarati.
However, both experiences leave me with the lurking suspicion that the source of my trauma may just have shifted from my community to the Telugu. But I am going to hold the jury out on that one - just until my next trip.
Hyderabad was... as I remembered it in the winter. Dry and swinging desperately from hazy, searing days to crisp, frozen nights. The main roads stretching out into curves, trees and the distinct realization that Hyderabad was, for the first time in five years, a distant home. I don't know if it was something taken away, or something I've had to leave behind or mayhap... a bit of both.
But this trip was about more - so much more.
It was about...
... copious quantities of beef biryani, bangles, and girlie conversations.
... stupefying encounters in the University Admin block and the Department of English.
... indulgent smiles at the Charminar and the unmitigated beauty of the University campus.
... as the elder sibling liked to tell me, "becoming an adult" and my unbearable lightness of being.
... and lastly but most importantly, an astonishing four rolls of film!
As always, many stories to tell and even more post-promises to keep. See you at my next, yes? :-)