In Pictures | Hyderabad, a trip down memory lane

I did some of my growing up in Hyderabad. I was little but not so much that I couldn’t put together a few memories over the three years that I spent there.

My father on the other hand, was born and brought up in Hyderabad. And although we haven’t lived there in a very long time, every now and then my father talks about making a trip to his hometown, meeting old friends and visiting the college he studied at.

So when I decided I wanted to see Ramoji Film City, I knew just the right person to make my travel buddy. (And also kind of sponsor the trip. Well just a part of it. Okay, a big part of it.)

One public holiday, one day of paid leave and one weekend came together to be what was one of the most cherished trips I’ve had with my father.

Here’s a look at my trip down memory lane in Hyderabad.

Mandatory picture from airplane window. You can roll your eyes but you can’t deny how beautifully fluffy those clouds look.

This giant fish-shaped building was one of the first things that caught my attention in Hyderabad. I asked my dad what it was, assuming he would know for sure since this is the city he grew up and all. He told me it was a restaurant. How intrigued I was, already imagining us dining there. Naturally, I decide to Instagram it so I did a quick Google search to learn the name of the restaurant. This building is not a restaurant. I repeat, this is NOT a restaurant. It is the National Fisheries Development Board. Thanks a lot, dad! On a less almost-embarrassing note, interesting looking building no?

We stayed with our ex-neighbours – now old friends – who still live in the same apartment building that I grew up in. This is in an area called Begumpet. I lived in the blue building but it wasn’t blue back then. Walking through the corridors brought back so many memories of running around and playing here. Like the time my mother made me scrub the walls because she thought I was a vandal. I still remember this because it wasn’t my “work of art” that I was washing off. Mine was elsewhere. I was also reminded of all the lizards that frequently visited our apartment and made my brother’s life hell (not laughing at all).

We went pearl shopping although not in any of the main markets. This was at a small shop near where we were staying, where our host usually buys her pearl jewellery. I didn’t buy anything for myself but I did get to hold a crore’s worth of pearls in my hands. This is a string of super-rare Basra pearls.

My dad had a chance to relive some memories too. Here he is standing outside the college he attended for his Bachelor’s Degree in Commerce. I don’t know why he’s standing like a good boy but this is where he was up to no good. He once sneaked a stray dog into the classroom and let it loose. This is the man who’s never let me have a pet, ever.

We were enjoying a nice cup of chai (tea) at daddy’s old college (obviously I had to take a picture of it first) when this professor walked up to us and began questioning who we were and what we were doing there. Who looks at a father and his daughter and thinks of them as a trouble-making duo! Teachers, they’re always so suspicious. Pssht!

Then we visited my old school, which is in an upmarket locality called Banjara Hills. I studied here from grades 1 to 3. These were my most shameful years as a student – I was every teachers’ pet, I was even – and I do not exaggerate – the principal’s pet. All the older kids loved pulling my cheeks. So did some of the school bus conductors much to my disgust and dismay. I acted in plays and learnt to dance the Bharatnatyam. (I never finished learning, I now have two left feet.) Once I left this school, it was all uphill. I became the back-bench sitting, dozing in class, never taking notes miscreant that teachers told my best friend to stay away from and not many kids wanted to befriend anyway.

Our visit to Ramoji Film City was… well it wasn’t what we expected. At all. Watch out for the post on that experience. Anyway, at the Film City, there was a butterfly park (used while shooting romantic/pensive scenes?) where I saw this sign and for some reason, it cracked me up. Then again, it doesn’t take much to crack me up. So maybe you should continue scrolling. P.S. My mother says the same thing about boys, and some kinds of dreams. Haha, just kidding. Or am I?

Charminar (meaning four towers) is one of the most important historical landmarks of Hyderabad. But apart from, or should I say because of, its historical significance, it’s also what the area around it is called. This is an area that is famous for street shopping in Hyderabad, mainly meenakari bangles and Indian outfits. Shopping in Charminar is a must on your list if you’re visiting Hyderabad. Charminar is also, unfortunately, the name of a popular and really old Indian cigarette brand manufactured by a Hyderabad-based company. When my father uses the word relax, it’s usually followed by “Have a charminar” which was what the ad said. My father only means the relax bit, the rest is for illustrative purposes only. Trust me, I know.

Biscuits at Karachi bakery. When you go to Hyderabad, you must eat/buy biscuits at Karachi bakery. Buy the fruit biscuits – those are the best. I also like the moon shaped ones you can see in the picture. They are called Moon biscuits. So apt, and convenient too. Karachi bakery is an iconic establishment in Hyderabad. It dates back to 1950s when the first store was opened in Mozamjahi market, which is where we went. Today, there are many branches across the city. It’s bustling with people buying all kinds of baked goods, dry fruits and tea. Chocolate tea is quite famous in Hyderabad too. I wish I had some fruit biscuits with me now.

The great thing about Indian cuisine is that we not only have so much variety in our food but we also have many different versions of one particular type of food. Biryani is a classic example of that, and Hyderabad is one of the cities in India that is renowned for its biryani thanks to the Mughal influence. Now, the time that dad and I were there, was during Eid and biryani is to Eid what turkey is to Thanksgiving. Since we were in the land known for its biryani, on a day celebrated with biryani, the only sane/right/honourable thing for us to do was eat biryani. We chose a restaurant called Bawarchi, which dad and I heard was the new “it” place in town then. Getting there wasn’t easy. We were stuck in a jam for over 40 minutes, in the pouring rain, after having spent the day in the hot sun at Ramoji. But distance only made the heart grow fonder, and eventually we made it. Oh there are few things in the world that can compare to the feeling of eating mutton biryani on a rainy day. As you can tell from the picture, Bawarchi’s fame has caused many counterfeit branches to open up. Ten second review: Was the biryani good? Yes. Was it the best? No. Was it worth the trouble? Yes. Portions? Big. Value for money? Yes.

Okay, here’s where the pictures go from bad to worse. I blame poor lighting , and my dad. He’s always tch, tch-ing because I’m clicking pictures of food (what are you going to do with all these pictures!) or whatever else he thinks pictures don’t need to be taken of. So I have to take some sneakily or really quickly before he has the chance to react.

Another highlight of my trip was the dinner we had at one of Hyderabad’s oldest establishments for Chinese food – Nanking (It’s not haunted like it looks, promise). We went here with friends of my dad, friends he’s known since long before he was married. I love meeting people like this because they are always full of stories I want to hear. They also turned out to be some of the nicest people I have ever met. Now, Chinese food in Hyderabad is like it is almost everywhere in India – it’s nothing like Chinese food. We call it Indo-Chinese and it is bloody delicious. Hyderabad has quite a few well-known Chinese restaurants that have been running for donkey’s years. Nanking is one of them. Blue Diamond is yet another (and apparently better). We ate a ton of food, I can’t even remember what we ordered but there was pork and chicken and noodles and rice (that’s precise!). I wish for a better memory as much as a bigger appetite.

Dinner was followed by something that you would eat after Chinese food only in India – paan. Paan is the Betel leaf wrapped like a samosa with a filling of Betel nuts, lime paste and some other types of spices. But there are so many varieties, with and without tobacco, that I’d rather not explain because I simply won’t be able to do justice. Paan is sold in small shops around street corners in India. It is also served at weddings and other occasions after a meal, as a mouth freshener of sorts. It’s also supposed to be good for digestion. I’ve eaten paan from a small stall on the road to a big wedding but never like I did in Hyderabad. The man you see in the picture is the security guard cum server at a paan shop that looks like a tiny store. It was air-conditioned and this is a big deal, because it was mentioned on the store sign. You can walk up to the store and order your paan, and this man will bring it to your car, in a tray that is covered with that fancy dome shaped lid – this was a first for me. The paan was yum but what it was the service that took the cake. He even let me take a picture of him from the car. I’m sorry he looks like a paan ghost but I swear, he was such a nice guy.

Here’s another terrible picture. This is the paan shop. Again, so sorry for this picture quality. I clearly caught the security guard unawares which is why he looks like he’s been denied paan for life.