Summer in Hyderabad

 It took me a while to muster the courage to drive through the highways in Hyderabad. It was the small-town girl’s fear of the city, the blasé attitude of the citizens, and the hurry. At the same time, city offers the freedom, to fall, get up and try again. Because… nobody really cares.

 If you get hit on the car’s bumper or rear-view mirror it’s just a matter of waving a sorry or faking ignorance. Who has the time?...

But it is something, in fact empowering, to get behind the wheel and steer away into the unknown. It is to this ecstasy the GHMC intercepted. The city corporation with utmost care placed speed limits wherever possible. Now wherever I go I see 40s and 30s marked in circles on posts. What is the fun in driving if all I can do is look out for cameras and speed limit boards?

It became harder when summer came with its bouquet of blooms. It started with so-far-unnoticed trees, turning gorgeous all of a sudden, in copious bunches of joyous yellow flowers and beaming out from the sides of the road. It felt like suddenly noticing stunning models here and there propped on either side of the way when you are focused on the road.

Golden yellow trumpet trees, that’s what they are called. I came to know later. 

Then came the Gulmohars. “Wildfire” ablaze all along the highway.

What all one should take care of! Speeding cars, bikers, traffic signals, speed boards, hoardings, and these distracting flower trees all the while when trying to maintain a speed below 40km/hr.

Sometimes I stop the car and walk along the footpath to take a glance at those bountiful blooms. Bliss.

Dear Wordsworth, now I know. The Golden Trumpets and Gulmohars have shown me how you felt when you saw the host of golden daffodils, beside the lake, beneath the trees. And…

"For oft, when on my couch I lie

In vacant or in pensive mood,

They flash upon that inward eye

Which is the bliss of solitude;"