The Charminar in Hyderabad |
Last week I used an invitation to the wedding of one of
Nivedita’s cousins in Bangalore as an excuse to do some travelling in South
India. On the first leg of my trip, a 22-hour train journey down the spine of India
took me to the city of Hyderabad, known in the past for the ostentation of its Muslim
rulers (the last Nizam had 11,000 servants, 38 of whom were tasked with keeping the chandeliers clean) and now reinventing itself as a technology and IT powerhouse. Following
a day and a half visiting its historical sites and loafing through the streets
of the Old City, I moved on to explore the ruins of the medieval Hindu city of
Hampi, scattered across an extraordinary landscape of granite outcrops strikingly
interspersed with green sinews of sugarcane plantation and coconut trees. So, after
approximately 1400 miles of train travel, multiple dancing-related
humiliations, 1 lost voice and 0 cases of sunstroke, here are a few thoughts
gleaned from my sojourn in the south.
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If you’re attending an Indian wedding, make sure you’re
neither the bride nor groom! Friends and family really have it easy; the only
entry requirements to a desi wedding
are a willingness to dance at any opportunity (age being no barrier) and eat an
inordinate quantity of rogan josh and
jalebis (ditto). By contrast, the lot
of the happy couple is to be spectators to their nearest and dearest’s capering
and gluttony as they endure the interminable rigmarole of religious ceremonies.
Despite my best endeavours to understand the meaning of these rituals, their
exact significance wasn’t always apparent even to those who did manage to tear
themselves away from the dancefloor or buffet to indulge my curiosity. By the
time Neha and Shivam had become man and wife – at an apparently auspicious 4am
on Monday morning – after four days of ceremony, and with most of the guests
having been whittled away by fatigue, over-eating or simple disinterest, I
could appreciate why they were sharing thousand-yard stares. Nevertheless, for
me – who only had to suffer the indignity of having to dance freestyle in front
of several hundred presumably pitying guests – it was a welcome and joyous weekend
of frivolity and gastronomic body abuse after a lean week backpacking (as I
write this I’m enjoying the sweets given to me by Neha’s mother the day after
the wedding). I wish Neha and Shivam all the best in their new lives together.
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'So what are you in for?' 'Picking flowers.' |
Many of India’s historical monuments seem to teeter between nurture
and neglect; Hyderabad – which I had learnt had already seen much of its
heritage lost forever in its rapid transition to IT hub– is a case in point. Extensive
restoration work was being carried out on the Charminar (Hyderabad’s premier
landmark) while I was there, yet it was easy to find other sites still to benefit
from the city’s belated conservation efforts.
Golconda Fort is one such place. Once the stronghold of the
Qutb Shahi dynasty, whose legendary wealth came from the diamond mines of the
region that spawned the Koh-i-Noor, any visitor today could be forgiven for
being underwhelmed by what is billed as one of India’s most spectacular forts. As
soon as I had passed through the fort’s gate (embedded with spikes to ward off
elephant charges), self-appointed guides eager to reel me in demonstrated the
acoustic capabilities of the portico by clapping: the echoes could allegedly be
heard on the distant hilltop citadel. It was a nice party-trick but, not
wanting to start my visit by haggling over payment for a tour I may have
regretted taking, I quickly peeled off, passed through the fort’s pleasure
gardens and began a steady ascent towards the citadel. Soon pausing to catch my
breath in the heat, I noticed that the fortifications rising above me were bolstered
and occasionally supplanted by massive boulders, making for some great photo
opportunities. As is so often the case with India’s lesser-known monuments
however, zooming in failed to bring reward.
Golconda Fort |
Having reached the acropolis, it quickly became clear that where
once there must have been beautiful and precise Indo-Islamic ornamentation, now
the citadel’s structures were crudely adorned with lovers’ graffiti, unerringly
gouged into fraying plasterwork. Most
pitifully of all, someone (perhaps an overzealous official who had got the
wrong end of the stick about conservation, or perhaps a well-intentioned but
still misguided visitor) had scratched ‘Remove footwear before entering’ into
the wall of a dilapidated mosque. Large areas of the hill had been given up to
weeds, shrubs and the detritus of tourists. Looking out beyond the walls of Golconda
and across the arid sweep of the Deccan plateau, the suburbs of the New
Hyderabad, ‘Cyberabad’, seemed menacingly close. As a fellow visitor who shared
my dismay put it, although the fort withstood multiple sieges it could not
escape neglect.
Golconda still seems to have sufficient gravitas for now. As
I wended my way down the path from the citadel, I spotted a film-crew shooting
what looked like a Mughal costume drama. But it can only be for the spectacular
backdrop. Ignorance, indifference and nature’s steady hand have long stripped
away the furnishings.
Virupaksha Temple, Hampi |
And finally, some wedding photos!
Not even in step |
The night of the wedding |
3am and it's still going... |