Hyderabad from a bike.
Everything is more bearable, from Hyderabad on a bike.Things looks different from different places. From a car, Hyderabad looks closed off, bleak, there’s nothing to see, the sky is interrupted by the frame of the car. The scenery is visible in six separate shifting screens. The AC blows cold air and the air smells of coolant.
I walk past the intoxicating smells of samosa, Mosambi juice. People eating, people I can see, people I could touch. There’s no metal or glass between us.
A woman and a child laugh, men look distressed, students in Kurtis walk past. Not once bothering about the traffic, they walk with no warning. It’s their city.
I don’t pine for all those days, no longer mine.
I long for the sky, the sea and plain sunshine.
I’m a simple creature with basic wants and basic needs, but more than anything, I crave sanity. Even my insanity is simple. I’m tired of walls, and roofs and ceilings. The media tells me I should be outside, healing. But who has the time to frolic on the sandy beach side, or walk up the grand night sky? Who has the time to even cry?
For a while, even when I’m flooded with work, and terrified of their deadlines. Everything’s more bearable, in Hyderabad from a bike.
—Giaa-Marie Raj
A random account of a meaningful day.
