I like this city. It has a romantic aura. The Mughal era buildings, a heart shaped lake (see it in Google Maps), a pair of pigeons outside our windows.
Unlike in the South, there are policemen with metal detectors checking you when you enter supermarkets and hospitals. Thankfully, Hyderabad is peaceful, and although shopping complexes do burn here sometimes, it happens because of neglect of electrical safety rules rather than bomb blasts.
Food here is cheap and delicious. We found a hotel that serves South Indian meals for eighteen Rupees. A bowl of chicken fried rice costs thirty. Ice-cream costs six. Bananas are also cheap and tasty. There are many bakeries and sweets shops.
Tea, however, is expensive. A small cup costs seven or eight Rupees. The same cup in rural Karnataka costs only four. Everywhere in Tamilnadu it costs five, and in Kochi — six Rupees. In Bangalore it costs ten, but that’s Bangalore — they try hard to make a profit from every drop of tea.
Both of our daughters are sick now so we are stuck in Hyderabad until they get better. We have to go to hospital every morning and every evening for their treatment.
It’s amazing how little paperwork they have in hospitals here. We didn’t have to fill any forms. We didn’t have to answer questions like ‘Did your mother ever have dental problems?’ (this was in one form in a dental clinic in New Zealand. My answer was: ‘Whose mum didn’t?’). They didn’t ask our address, phone number, nationality, ethnic group, and didn’t enquire about our culture. ‘What is your culture?’ was a question asked by a Health Line phone operator in New Zealand when my wife ringed them to enquire if it is safe to give a certain medicine to our child.
In Hyderabad’s clinics they didn’t even ask our surnames. They just asked what was wrong, diagnosed our daughters, and prescribed medicines and treatment. I really like it.