Yesterday...

Years after having left the neighbourhood, once again I was walking these streets. Not that I had not visited this place in all these years. Somehow, in the hullabaloo of a rushing life, pausing to stop and look never happened. Or perhaps, it was a fear that one might become nostalgic. But the impulse to see - what remained of the place as it was years ago, struck me. It was the most well planned colony in the entire city, with bungalows, big trees, and roads criss crossing perpendicular to each other, and actually had street numbers. Quite unheard of in Hyderabad. But then this wasn't Hyderabad. It was a city in a city - and had its snob value - perhaps because it was once the residence of the British. And within this twin city, this colony had a greater snob value. You were somebody if you were living there.

Evenings were quiet and perfect to walk in the tree lined streets. Sometimes it was to the water tank in front of St.Anns and some times to Sangeet cinema: a treat never to be missed. For cinema at Sangeet meant sandwiches and cold drinks - an added bonus! Going to Sangeet itself was snob value - it showed only English movies! Night fell soon - by 8pm the streets were deserted, no one ventured except for the monkeys, which were in plenty. The State Bank training centre housed in Cricketer Jaisimha's old family home, was a constant for the monkeys - since the Canteen had an open verandah - so food was tasted by them before the guests. Our house with the mango tree branches hanging onto the balcony, was a constant hide out too. Each time we went out, we had to check whether the coast was clear or not. And if they smelled bananas in the house, that's it! Chasing a monkey out without getting scratched can be quite an experience!

The Mrityunjaya temple was a regular hangout for folks - with its breezy peepal trees, old stone walls and rough cut stone floor. Shiv ratri was special with full day rituals - and everyone spent the entire day at the temple. Then, there was the little circulating library on street no: 8, with its "rare" collection of Enid Blytons and Archie's comics and Sydney Sheldons, that was a hit with kids and teenagers.

There was a typical flavour here - of early morning coffee, smells of dosa and smabhar, and chants of muruga and shiva shiva at the temple. Like most places in the twin cities, this place too had its own specific culture. The way, Kacheguda was full of Maharashtrians, and Zeera Gujratis, Marredpally was quintessential Tamil. Name plates would read Janakiraman, Ranganthan, Mudaliar...etc...etc...with zari sareed maamis with jasmine flowered hairdos, flocking the temple early mornings. And then of course there were also people like the corner house Anglo-Indian auntie with her short skirt and shorter hair, a cigarette flashing from her hand, mouthing abuses to the milk man, which was our daily morning alarm. And then people like us, migrants, fresh from a small town in Telengana, finding all this absolutely strange, though we did live in Hyderabad before. But then that was a different Hyderabad. With its Telugu culture and Ganesh pandals, Chikkadpally was way different from Marredpally - as far apart as a C is from M.

But now, there may not be that much difference. The trees that lined the streets are gone, even the big banyan tree in front of St.John's church which marked the entry to the erstwhile Secunderabad Cantonment is now ousted - to make way for a dead politicians bust. At one time, the only busy traffic signal would be near Chikkadpally, but now even Marredpally is full of honking cars and traffic jams. Janakiraman our neighbour's house is now an apartment, though his name plate is still existent, as are many more houses. Yet, some die-hard romantics have retained their old homes. As has Dr.Raghunathan and his small garage clinic - quiet an odd thing in today's corporate hospital culture. The SBH training centre with its huge garden and old mansion has become State Bank Abode - ten storeyed multiple complexes - the beautiful garden that was tended with love and care by Balaiah the garderner, is gone completely. While Sangeet Cinema, a landmark for Secunderabad has finally succumbed to the pressures of commerce - it will soon have a new avatar as a Multiplex.

And what about my house? The little rented upstairs of Mudaliar House? As I walked past Dr. Raghu's clinic, I could see it from behind - it was still a two storeyed place and nicely white washed as well. With a sigh of relief, I turned the corner - "Green Trends" Family Saloon, the board read. On closer examination, I understood it was part of a multi-city chain store. Gone was the mango tree and in its place stood an extended glass front. The compound too was tiled with no soil to be seen. A lone watchman stood guard at the door. I enquired about the owners..."I don't know madam". "We used to live in this house", I told him, unable to hold back my nostalgia. "Oh! they didn't change the house only made some modifications". "Yes, true". "Only there was a mango tree here. Its gone now".

As have the monkeys, I noticed as I sat down on the black granite steps of the Mrityunjaya temple. Here too there have been changes - the entire old stone floor from centuries ago has been removed to make way for polished tiles. The mandapams have been painted blue and orange - they used to be totally white earlier. The navagrahas were sitting under the peepal as usual - only its top was gone - just the big fat trunk remained. Wonder if the devas are worried about the lack of shelter from rain and sun.

"Muruga, Muruga", an old lady in orange silk, was muttering next to me. She was far less bedecked than she would have been some time ago, but her mutterings and the familiar voice of MS Subbalakshmi from the loudspeaker, some how reassured me - may be all is not lost - not yet!