I think one of my favorite things in the world is the quiet, not just any quiet, but the one found in the middle of the night. Those hours that that don't quite belong to the night, but are not quite morning are my favorite, even in most large cities that space is held like a poignant pause, like the world holding its breath before that energy is flung simultaneously in all directions as people launch into the rigors of life.
Hyderabad is magical in the middle of the night. Though as far removed from the sleepy town of Thun, Switzerland, where we used to live, as the moon is from the floor of the ocean. At 9:30 each night Thun went to bed - figuratively or literally, almost as though you could hear the switch being flipped off. Hyderabad never really sleeps, but it stills...dramatically. The cacophony of city traffic and of blaring horns pauses so significantly that you can hear the cooing of the pigeons in their perches. Like a sigh of relief from the frantic pace of life, warm breezes caress the branches of palm and bottlebrush trees and if you are particularly observant you can spot a flying fox/fruit bat winging its way through the night. But like most large metropolitan cities this respite is brief and just before dawn the call to prayer beckons from the minarets of the mosques calling observers to worship and heralding the first rumblings of tuktuks and motorcycles through the city streets. Soon melody is joined by neighbors sweeping their entryways with long-tendrilled natural brooms. The steady rhythm of swish-swish interrupted only by an occasional horn then punctuated by the crow of a rooster who surprisingly lives next door in this sprawling metropolis. Vegetable carts begin their slow and steady journey through the city and more and more traffic until layer by layer like a symphony the city fully thrums to life. Yet a potent reminder that this sprawling city is a composite of individuals came from the fragrant scents of biryani and freshly baked naan from my neighbor's kitchen.
Hyderabad is magical in the middle of the night. Though as far removed from the sleepy town of Thun, Switzerland, where we used to live, as the moon is from the floor of the ocean. At 9:30 each night Thun went to bed - figuratively or literally, almost as though you could hear the switch being flipped off. Hyderabad never really sleeps, but it stills...dramatically. The cacophony of city traffic and of blaring horns pauses so significantly that you can hear the cooing of the pigeons in their perches. Like a sigh of relief from the frantic pace of life, warm breezes caress the branches of palm and bottlebrush trees and if you are particularly observant you can spot a flying fox/fruit bat winging its way through the night. But like most large metropolitan cities this respite is brief and just before dawn the call to prayer beckons from the minarets of the mosques calling observers to worship and heralding the first rumblings of tuktuks and motorcycles through the city streets. Soon melody is joined by neighbors sweeping their entryways with long-tendrilled natural brooms. The steady rhythm of swish-swish interrupted only by an occasional horn then punctuated by the crow of a rooster who surprisingly lives next door in this sprawling metropolis. Vegetable carts begin their slow and steady journey through the city and more and more traffic until layer by layer like a symphony the city fully thrums to life. Yet a potent reminder that this sprawling city is a composite of individuals came from the fragrant scents of biryani and freshly baked naan from my neighbor's kitchen.
You write really well, Deidre. Very evocative. I felt like I was standing there by your side on your new balcony looking out at the city at 5am.
ReplyDeleteKeep it up - I'm enjoying this.
Thank you...that means a lot coming from you! Third post is about to go up...so far, so good.
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