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Shows respect where respect is due
“Girte hain shahsawar hi maidan-e-jung mein. Woh tifl kya gire jo ghutno ke bal chale – Mirza Azeem Baig (Only the horseman falls on the battlefield. How can that child fall who crawls on his knees!)
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Horses, elders, Ustaads
The stories we hear mould us. Not all of them need to come from our parents. It is the variety and diversity of life experience which is the foundation to build a lot of skills. This comes from adults who have led interesting and challenging lives. We learn through their stories; we see with their…
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Last of the Generation
Monsoon began always on June 7, and we went to buy fish as it was believed that it was good for health to eat fish on the day the monsoon set in. My father would take us to the Monda Market in Secundrabad, and we would gingerly tiptoe through the slush of the fish market,…
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Of dogs and boys
I believe that the commercialization of medical care and education are the two major causes of social corruption and breakdown of values in our society. How we were unable to transfer the wonderful values we grew up with to our own children, remains a mystery to me. It is not that there were no corrupt…
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Hyderabadi Nostalgia
We did not have telephones. Only those with ‘pull’ could get a phone. For ordinary mortals, a phone connection took fifteen years to materialize. If you paid Rs. 15,000 (an absolute fortune) you would get a telephone connection in three to four years. We had to either go to the post office to make a…
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Half a century of memories
That morning, I was sitting on the steps leading up to the front door, lost in my grief that I would never see Aunty Mohini ever again, when someone came up behind me and said, ‘Yawar, I think I know what Mohini meant to you. Will you allow me to take her place?’ I looked…
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East Coast Express
There was one solitary policeman at the main entrance with a zillion mosquitoes to keep him company. I spoke to him and explained my predicament and he was most understanding. Having gained access to the terminal building, I asked him where I could sleep. “Sleep anybhear,” he replied. I told you he was helpful. Anywhere,…
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Hyderabad Public School and other matters
We were taught to distinguish fact from fiction and allegory and to draw lessons. We also learned to laugh at ourselves and to have a good sense of humor. This seems to be in short supply currently with people taking themselves far too seriously and carrying their sense of offence on a hair trigger. Such…
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My dear friend MP
Today was the first day in my life when I received the news of the passing away of two of my childhood friends. One was Chandramohan Agarwal, my classmate all through school in the Hyderabad Public School and the other was Mohammed, the son of Nawab Habib Jung. Mohammed (we called him MP) was a…