Biryani Tales 101
Moving cities and writing a story are very gut wrenching experiences. Ask anyone who is not young anymore!!!. Not to say that the nameless one was old, but the nameless one was not that young either. It was way past the ideal time to move from the comfort of home and the home city that loved and cared (still does) like a mother cradling its baby gorilla.
The nameless one packed away the bags and went about the way the road too along. Drama was a high fetched one, but it was there on the day home was left behind.. That is a different story now.. Moving back, the cities are just cities. Yet, one was home. Any positives and negatives were just a farfetched thought against home. Cricketing loyalties and companies were all due for only one city—Home.
Then again the mind realised the value of families, friends and universality of human nature.. Indian nature to be more precise..
The journey began with the populist festival of Ganesha Chaturthi. The nameless one had a beautiful headache and the body had just about got bored the nameless one throwing up more than one ailments to be dealt with, with a smile. The journey started taking in all the sights and sounds of this new city. Sure it lacked sanitary requirements at laces, but it had its charm, it had its own way of laid back lifestyle revolving around movies, timeless stillness and an acute sense of visionary opulence with sheer lack of amenities and blended like a masala in a biriyani (veg only!!).
The public transport had its own charms, not as much like a BMTC (Bangalore’s native transport service). But the prices were less, so Hyderabad scored points there. The conductor with a paan stained grin and a simple harmless smile won hearts over.
Asking directions still helped all around. The driver, when spoken in telugu also threw in a special discount of stopping at a bend as against a bus stop 500 meters behind. A healthy dosage of directions also were given away during the course of the drive as well. All throughout the time there, the nameless one always had a habit of never looking up to the sky, whatever the time of the time it was. Bad or good health all inclusive, the sun never failed to greet the nameless one. Sometimes in more abundance than home. Then again, that was a beauty of the place, adding to its charm and beauty.
The bus journey over, the nameless one as always started walking while filled with thoughts.. food however, had excused itself away from the thought process. Thankfully, the stomach had fought hard for this new arrangement (although secretly, it was asking for the same for years). The walk continued across by lane after by lane. The bus driver although had given right directions, the nameless one’s legs as usual took an incorrect turn. Walked and walked and walked,,, and kept walking as if that was all the nameless one was to do in this new city now being called home.
After a hour or so, and watching a lot of ganesha’s the nameless one finally found some courage to speak (that was a luxury now). Speaking to people who listened was a rare luxury anyway. The quick talk resulted in getting the right direction, the walk began again. This time stopping over for a small stop at a juice centre. Small dosages of fruit juices and life continued. The walk ended in front a Ganesh. A Ganesh idol literally towering over everybody. Faith is really a funny thing, people throng to the deity as that would be the last of the vision that would be received of that symbolic idol representation. Yet, the sheer experience of walking through a jam packed crowd to see a glimpse of a towering ganesha was enough. Yet, the nameless one never looked up to the sky. No photos either, so the spectacle that the nameless one saw were two: one was the towering ganesha.. the other the selfie crazed populace capturing their moments of posterity with the divine.
Yet, amidst all the throngs of people, amidst all the beautiful multitude of colours that dotted the street, the railway line across, the jam packed traffic circle where people over powered vehicles from their right to way, the nameless one felt it. Felt that one odd feeling that the nameless one belonged.. belonged as part of human existence, yet could not speak to any, could not write about it, but just feel it and pass the motion o further through the towering Ganesh. A silent prayer for everyone’s safety and a few laughs at kid s haggling away smartphones from parents to try their photographic expertise on the divine idol, the nameless one continued. Continued to the journey back to existence.
A small walk ensued toward the railway line.. the streets full of hawkers hawking their wares was nothing new. The sales being done under ad boards and warning boards of “ no hawking zone” was not new either. The boards were just there for their own purposes. The hawkers, served their own purposes. Little children crying and making a scene for their parents to buy them toys, young adults in awe of the advantage that their compatriots had been to the place of a festival and above all adults losing all inhibitions of religions, caste and creed in celebrating a public festival that united more people than divided many. The nameless one went about the train station, searched about for quite a while for the ticketing counter, saw the usual skirmishes of line cutters with plain clothes policemen and other line adhering citizens. Finally procuring a ticket the nameless one starting the wait for getting onto the right train.
Little children, obviously high from the festivities were looking to get around by practising for their physical education class the next day. Daily commuters had begun their usual talk about how bad the economy was, how the train was late s usual and how they loathed working on such a day as when the public festivities were in full swing. Yet, all through this conversation, they placed themselves at strategic positions where they knew they can get the right place on the long awaited train. The deluge of artificial lights all but blinded the nameless one, yet despite the peeling of layers and layers of thought within the name less’s ones mind, the sight above was failed to be see. Even the display of fireworks was barely seen.
The nameless one finally got on the train, started counting stations than look at the beautiful sights outside. Sounds of a rhythmic train coach movement always helped in practising normalcy. And once getting off the train and getting home.. the nameless one out of sheer instinct looked up to the sky and saw the moon. The same moon that shone like the sun over him. So, all that there was here as well. The nameless one realised that the oyster that was being searched for was within and not without. The nameless one was finally HOME..