Once, so I have read, Hyderabad was a center of high Islamic culture, adorned with fabulous palaces and gracious gardens, and ruled by the impossibly wealthy Nizams – the Koh-i-Noor diamond came from their Golconda mines. That was before Independence and the partition of Pakistan and India. A great deal has been written about the horrors of partition on the frontiers, of whole trainloads arriving dead on either side of the newly-defined border, of hundreds of thousands, maybe as many as a million, killed. The story of Hyderabad is not told so often.
Just as the ruler of Kashmir vacillated, with disastrous consequences still in operation today, over the choice between accession to India or Pakistan, so too did the Nizam. But with joining Pakistan surely a geographic non-starter, he opted for independence from both. Negotiations with the new Indian government failed and the army went in, taking a mere five days to gain control. While Muslim militia units may have helped provoke the invasion (although it was called a “police action”) estimates of Muslim deaths after the invasion range from 50,000 to 200,000. The government report on the terror and bloodshed has never been published.
Certainly, there is little now to recall the city of palaces. William Dalrymple writes poignantly of an old man who grew up in the Hyderabad of the Nizams, and lives now in the Hyderabad of modern India, trying to forget the past. The streets are maybe a little broader, maybe a little cleaner, than elsewhere. A large lake is a surprising find near the city center. Here and there the bones of a once beautiful building still stand. But mostly, Hyderabad is just another Indian city. Better off than many, with a HiTec section growing on the western outskirts, and an upmarket area called Banjara Hills, where I stayed in the Minerva Grand.
But one palace, the Chowmahalla, has been recently restored. Situated in the heart of the old city, close to the bazaar, it is a surprising oasis of green grass, splashing fountains, and opulent white buildings. The durbar hall is still lit by 19 huge crystal chandeliers, and collections of porcelain, clothing, arms, photos and even very decrepit antique cars fill the halls.
Before the Nizams ruled Hyderabad, the Qutb Shah kings held power, originally in Golconda, on the outskirts. When the water supply failed they founded the new city. While the remains of Golconda fort, built on a substantial hill, are still formidable, I didn’t find it as interesting as I expected. It could use some cleaning up, as could the much more atmospheric Qutb Shahi tombs nearby. Sometimes I am puzzled by the choice of the Indian Archaeological Society of what to save and what to neglect. Even with the water channels empty, the grass brown and the buildings stained, you can see how beautiful the site must have been, and could be again.
Some people come to Hyderabad for the shopping – my drivers all wanted to take me to jewelry stores. Some people come for the food – the Hyderabad biryanis are famous. I didn’t shop, but I did eat chicken biryani, twice at my hotel, and once at a city center place recommended by Lonely Planet, the Hotel Shadab, where I felt distinctly out of place as a solo female. All three were fine, but I am still not a fan of biryani.
Besides sightseeing, I spent some time in Hyderabad figuring out how to leave. I had arrived at the sparkling new international-standard Rajiv Gandhi airport, driving the 22 kms into town on an impressive new highway. (I noticed a sign: “Please don’t overload your vehicle” just before we passed an overstuffed rickshaw.) I wanted to leave by car for Bijapur, Badami and Hospet (for Hampi). I had asked for quotes before I left, notably from savaari.com, but they seemed high, and based on my previous experience I expected to do better in-country. But my hotel’s quote was much higher, and when I finally tracked down a travel agent in town his quote was also higher, and I didn’t feel comfortable dealing with him.
I sent another email to savaari.com, and meanwhile worked out a Plan B. This involved flying to Goa, and staying at the Panjim Inn in Panaji. On the one hand, I liked the Panjim Inn. On the other hand, I had already done about all you could do based in Panaji, and I had skipped Hampi in favor of more time in Goa the last time I was in India. Getting to Hampi is a pain, and I might not be so close again, so when savaari.com replied, I accepted their terms.
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