Everybody in Hyderabad is a Nizam – Desi Lifestyle Stories

Hyderabad is a great city. Unlike say the more robust citizens of saddi Dilli, Hyderabadis never befuddle you by questioning you about their parentage – ‘tu janta hai mera baap kaun hai’. Plus life is slightly less rushed than say in our maximum city, Mumbai and eating out is more affordable and yummy; who hasn’t heard about (in my view a tad over rated), Paradise Biryani?

 It is the city of pearls (Jagdamba Pearls, Ive been given to understand, gives a 50% discount to faujis), the beautiful tank bund with the world’s largest monolith Buddha statue; which if you recall, decided for no particular reason in 1990, to go diving into the waters of Hussain Sagar. It needed all the kings horses and all the kings men to make it rise from the water.  It has the fantastic Salar Jung museum, yes the one with the little man who springs out every hour or so. Pedestrian as per me, but the crowds ooh and aah – so who am I to belittle the ‘sab jaan ne waali public’. It has the architectural marvel Charminar, and also houses the Charminar cigarettes maker (VST) – a cigarette made famous by the ‘ruggedly masculine’ Jackie Shroff who exhorted you to ‘Relax – Have a Charminar’. To digress a bit, how one yearns for the simple days when cigarette Ads were all about asking you to invite cancer in style – ‘Red and white peene walon ki baat hi kuch alag hai’, or ‘made for each other – Wills’, or even ‘Charms – the way you are’. Today’s world of cigarette packs with shots of cancerous growth has sucked the joy out of smoking!

But back to Hyderabad. If a hoarding near the airport is to be believed, it is the city with the second highest number of HNIs. Hyderabad now also boasts of, for some strange reason, a fully ‘ Vaastu Compliant’ spanking new Vidhan Sabha. But what I would like to talk about here, is the Hyderabadi/Nawabi tehzeeb – which can best be summed up for want of a better phrase, as ‘laid back’.

Post retiring from the Navy, we chose Hyderabad as our abode for precisely the above mentioned reasons. Having landed here however, I sometimes feel that what Hyderabad needs, is less of the Nizami tehzeeb. ‘Laidbackness’ while an endearing quality from afar can get a bit trying once you experience it.  You will agree that moving into a new city and into a new house entails a certain amount of administrative work. You know that pesky plumbing work, minor carpentry, getting a gas connection, DTH installation – you get it right?

Well, these minor things are confusingly difficult in Hyderabad. No wonder people like Satya Nadella and Santanu (CEO Adobe) jetted off to America.  A call to a plumber would yield an earnest promise along ‘kal aayega 10 baje’ lines. On the morrow, self is washed, shampooed, scented by 0955hrs; ready to enjoy the benefits of a new tap or two. I wait at the door expectantly. Ten o’clock – no show. Give benefit doubt considering traffic conditions and wait patiently. 1030 hrs – no show. Decide might as well have a chai. 1100 hrs – scent has started to wear off, but no show. By 1130 hrs The Wife starts posing useless queries such as ‘didn’t you say ten?’. At 1230 hrs I decide to call him. The conversation usually goes as follows:-

He – Hello

Me – (Authoritatively) Kya hua, aap aaye nahin

He – Kaun boltu

Me – (Less authoritatively) Main Rakesh bol raha hoon (followed by address and a synopsis of the work needed).

He – (After a pause trying to recollect his promise made just yesterday). Aah achha achha. Sham ko aayega.

Me – (Shampooing and washing wasted, I add, and I am not ashamed to say a bit plaintively) – Par aapne bola tha ki aaj savere 10 baje aayega?

He – Bolo toh, doosra kaam hai mereko, aana nahin hota. Sham ko aayega na, pakka, phikar nako. Nahin to aap parsu leke chalo, final. Kaiku bolo toh, kal chutti hona.

Me – (the authoritativeness turning into an as obsequious a tone as is feasible). Kal nahin aaj hi aana, pleeease.

He – Aapka location kahan hai

Me – (Trying to manly mask my frustration) Kal aapko bola tha na aur location pin bhi bheja tha

He – Ek baar phir bhejo.

I call him again after sending location with the intention of confirming/imploring. No response but am treated to Keervani’s catchy naatu naatu caller tune. Call him four more times. No response- and by now I’m fervently damning naatu naatu. (Incidentally, I’ve been given to understand you north of the Vindhyas types, that naatu naatu DOES NOT translate to nacho nacho)

I thereafter decide to call the electrician only to go through the same rigamarole. Evening comes but no electrician or plumber. So one more day without the joys of water spouting from a new tap or for that matter an urgently needed extra plug point.  Meanwhile The Wife, wanting to be helpful of course, does not make things easier with an absolutely infructuous  ‘he still hasn’t come, call him na, call him’.

Laidback Hyderabadis are. And Nizami too. But they tend to forget their Nizami ancestry quickly when it comes to ‘chai paani’. Any work – gas delivery, gardening, plumbing will see the individual just stand at your door after he’s done whatever he had to do, gaping at you expectantly. Chai paani is the accepted norm. So, taking one brilliant friend’s advice I started keeping a flask of tea and some paper cups near the door. Offered chai (literally) to the next gas delivery guy. Then took quite some time to soothe the affronted man. Damn my friend. Fortunately, being polite and generally at peace with life, they are content with 20-30 bucks.

Aah Hyderabad!!!