Tag Archives: sightseeing

On the Biscuit Trail, Sightseeing (Notes on Hyderabad)

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“I have orders for fruit biscuits from Karachi Bakery,” said my friend, as we set off from the guesthouse to the venue of S’s midnight wedding. “So do I,” said the third member of our party. By then, yours truly was torn between curiosity and the need to feign awareness.

“Karachi Bakery? I can tell you where that is,” said the otherwise reticent man who drove our car, suddenly becoming loquacious in describing the location of the apparently famous shop. So I was the ignorant one. But only for a minute longer. My friends soon told me how S used to bring those biscuits to their hostel whenever she came back from home, and how they all used to “just love it.” The next day, these two friends skipped a part of the post-wedding puja in order to trace Karachi Bakery and buy huge quantities of the said item. All this was why I decided to stop there on my way later from Salarjung Museum to Begumpet.

On Nizam Shahi road, the huge blue and pink signage of the bakery stood out, and the crowd in the store, engrossed in Christmas purchases, reminded me of Mumbai. The matter-of-fact way in which I was handed a sealed packet of fruit biscuits and a piece of the same to taste was a mild letdown: I had expected, quite unreasonably in hindsight, that such a famous item would evoke a sense of awe in its handlers. Nevertheless, I could see that customers in that particular section of the shop were reassuringly enthusiastic.

The welcome that the biscuits – square shaped cookies with tutti frutti and cashewnut– received at home was little more than lukewarm, perhaps because they were poor competitors to the thick home-made jaggery pudding prepared the previous day. The tales of visits to Golkonda Fort, Charminar, Birla Mandir and Salarjung Museum found more enthusiastic audiences.

To whoever would listen, I repeated stories that the guide had narrated, of the intriguing history behind various features of Golconda Fort, including how sound was transmitted from the gateway at the entrance and the reason behind the name of the fort. We could see that although large parts of the fort were destroyed by Aurangazeb, the existing structure was deemed worthy as a film setting, for we came across a full-fledged team shooting a movie and two youngsters repeatedly trying to record a short amateur dance video.

At Charminar, it was the apparent lack of functional purpose of the building that bothered our party initially. A little like the Gateway of India, said one of the viewers. But the bangles and pearls at Laad Bazaar made up for that.

At Birla Mandir, I was amazed by the devotion shown by the crowd as everyone chanted “Govinda, Govinda” in a peculiar and catchy rhythm. The whiteness of the structure stood out in stark contrast to my memories of temples in Kerala made of dark granite. The art exhibition at the adjacent Birla Science Centre complex was worth seeing but hardly attracted visitors, who were more interested in watching the show at the planetarium and the huge skeleton at the dinosaurium, and in exploring the interactive science exhibits.

Salarjung Museum was huge and well-maintained. The various forms of Arabic calligraphy caught our attention, including the Tughra style where the letters are used to form the shape of an animal, bird or object. We stood captivated by the Veiled Rebecca, a life-like and delicate depiction of a demure woman, sculpted in white marble. In several rooms, the utility items and ornaments of the royal family reflected taste and indulgence, craftsmanship and lavishness. We returned from the museum having covered only the central block, leaving the eastern and western blocks for another visit.

Back home, most of the Hyderabad saga was forgotten amidst the holiday season. But I was in for a pleasant surprise when I casually offered the fruit biscuits to a friend. “Karachi Bakery!” he exclaimed, in instant recognition, although the biscuits were no longer placed in their original box. Here, now, was a very memorable brand! Going on the biscuit trail in Hyderabad was worth it, after all.

A Land Uncannily Like Kerala!

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There is something very intriguing in the view from the aeroplane as it descends over Udaipur. The sheer greenery of the land below makes me wonder whether this is a verdant hillside of Kerala. And the roadsides bear a sight so familiar on the roads of Thrissur – wild creepers growing complacently on electricity poles and on the stabilizing steel wires joining the poles to the ground!

It is difficult to believe that I am in the state of Rajasthan which I have associated with deserts since learning about the Thar desert during standard 3 in school. Clumps of multicoloured lantana (kongini in Malayalam) on the roadside, an abundance of wild grass with yellow and violet flowers, fresh foliage on trees – the rain seems to have worked magic on the land!

I notice that shop fronts are covered with writing in Hindi, so is the wall space between shops, possibly because hoardings are yet to make their way into this place. Is this a land where people don’t talk much? And if they do, they perhaps speak in full sentences? I wonder, because the typical shop sign reads “groceries and household items are available in this shop” instead of the ubiquitous laconic “groceries and household items” that you see elsewhere.

While Udaipur is known for its lakes and palaces, there is more to the place. On our trip to Kumbhalgarh Fort, we pass roadsides so scenic that I have seen them only in old calendars: a gentle river meandering its way over stones rounded by years of flowing water, flanked on both sides by flowering shrubs and trees, and green mountains in the distant horizon. Knee-high man-made walls of weather-hardened cut rock crisscross the area, reminding me of some of the last scenes in ‘The Shawshank Redemption,’ and young shepherd boys guide their goats to grazing land. Schoolgirls wave at us as the bus passes; I remember reading somewhere that we are obliged to wave back, if only to keep hope alive in the minds of the enthusiastic children.

The Fort itself is well-maintained, its 36 km long wall stretching out ahead of us, encompassing several Hindu and Jain temples. Our guide is a small boy who goes to school in the morning and leads tourists through the Fort in the afternoon, regaling them with stories of the seven-and-a-half-foot tall king who reigned in the Fort’s heyday. We gasp and pant, our knees rebelling, over the rock-paved incline at the beginning, and wish there were banisters to hold while descending steps, but the boy is lithe, almost impatient, as he waits for us at the next interesting spot.

We sit on the stone steps in front of a temple and the mild breeze cools down the weary tourists. After a picnic lunch by the riverside, we are on our way back to civilization and pollution, honking horns and dusty air. But the enchantment stays with us, and before we leave Udaipur, we have all, with varying strength of intention, contemplated visiting the place again. I, for one, would like to see again this land in North-West India that uncannily reminded me of Kerala!